#I’m just very emotional about the epilogue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stellar-skyy · 30 days

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♡ - LOST & FOUND - Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: Hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been taken from them. ii. CWS & NOTES: description of blood and injury (mildly graphic but not gory), violence, mentions of kidnapping, swearing (like once), implied murder. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. angst & slight hurt/comfort. 2.5k words. iv. A/N: i am... so normal about parental arlecchino... so normal... i hope you enjoy because i loved writing this!! i have a little written for an epilogue featuring the lyntwins + freminet reuniting, so stay tuned for that ♡

It had been fifty-eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes since [Name] had vanished.

Freminet sat curled up in a velvet armchair that dwarfed his small frame, with Pers on his lap and his brother and sister flanking each side. They had both refused Father’s offer of a seat, which showed the severity of the situation more than words ever could.

No one ever refused Father. Even she had raised an eyebrow at their sudden rebellion.

“Lyney, Lynette. Defiance will not make [Name] come home faster. Take a seat.” Father sipped her tea, poised as ever. Even with that impassive mask, Freminet still noticed the tension in her shoulders.

He always noticed.

“There’s no need,” Lyney said shortly, adding on a respectful “Father.” as an afterthought.

“What my brother means—” Lynette cut in smoothly. “—Is that we do not want to draw this conversation out any longer than necessary. We only came to get permission to postpone our current assignment and search for [Name]. I’m sure you can see the circumstances are dire enough to warrant such action.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Lynette.” Father placed her cup down and folded her hands over her lap. “They are a very skilled agent, and this mission was hardly out of their ability. No need to compromise your current—and very important, I might add—mission, for trivial matters.”

“It isn’t trivial, it’s our sibling!” Lyney burst out, causing Freminet to flinch. He reached out a hand blindly to settle on Freminet’s shoulder, squeezing it quickly in both a comfort and apology for startling him.

“I would be mindful of your place within this household, Lyney.” Father said mildly, the warning clear. “I have given you a direct order, and you will follow it. Do not stray from your assigned mission. [Name] will be fine.” She paused for a beat. “You are dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Lyney hissed. “So, you’re going to just leave them to die?”

It sounded like less of a question and more of an accusation. Freminet winced, feeling Lynette stiffen beside him as well as they waited for the consequences of Lyney’s bluntness.

Arlecchino rose from her seat, the tension in the air thick enough to choke all three of the siblings.

“I never said that. [Name] will be home in due time.” Her gaze shifted from the left to the right side of the armchair. “Lynette, you will have tea with me later, won’t you?” Father asked, causing the girl to freeze.

She bit her lip, answering carefully. “I may. Maybe if [Name] returns, we can all have tea together.”

“A good plan,” Father agreed, ignoring the quiet angry undertone of her words. “When I see them, I shall invite them.”

“It had better be soon; it’s getting late.” Lynette countered. Freminet’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Lynette was always better at matching Father’s games. Freminet crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and Lyney wasn’t any better at handling the pressure without his emotions causing him to crack and splinter.

“Lynette, Freminet. Let’s go.” Lyney said sharply.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lyney’s hand had not moved from where it was planted firmly on Freminet’s shoulder, as if he was refusing to let another of his siblings out of his grasp. Freminet might have remarked that Lynette was handling her worry better, but he noticed how her tail kept curling around his leg when they walked into Father’s office. Neither of the three was willing to part with the others for even a second; not when one of their own had gone missing by doing just that.

As he drew back his hand and moved away, Freminet caught his arm.

“Just… a moment, please. Wait outside, I’ll join you soon.” Freminet murmured, letting go. Lyney pursed his lips.

“Be quick.”

The twins vanished through the doorway, leaving Freminet alone with his Father.

“Freminet dear. You’re hesitating.” Father raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something? Do you want me to give Pers a kiss on the head before I leave?”

Freminet flushed at the memories of holding the toy up to Father when he was young, insisting the penguin deserved a proper goodbye too. “Ahem. I’m not a child anymore… Father.”

“No? Then why are you still here?”

He swallowed awkwardly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. He met her stare

“I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said bluntly.

Father’s expression was almost impossible to read, but Freminet managed to catch a hint of surprise at his words. “I see. How did you come to that conclusion?”

It wasn’t denial, nor was it defensiveness. That was a good sign. Freminet continued, “There is a pinch between your eyebrows that you keep trying to smooth over. You’re gripping your teacup much tighter than usual. Your shoulders are tense. And you were far too quick to dismiss the twins’ concerns. You of all people would know that the situation is severe enough to allow a brief pause to their investigation, but you were swift in making sure they were kept as far away from the situation as possible.”

Arlecchino stared back at Freminet silently. She always had that unsettling way of watching him, as if she was picking apart the cogs and wheels spinning in his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Observant as always, Freminet.” Freminet stood up straighter, pink touching his cheeks. “So, tell me this: what am I to do next?”

“You’re… going to find them yourself?” He asked slowly.

“That is correct. I will be.” Father agreed, and something inside him swelled. If only Lyney was still in the room, he would have collapsed with relief. “And what will you be doing?”

“Helping.” Freminet said without a thought.

“Incorrect. You are going to return to your room, go to sleep, and not say a word to your siblings.”

“But—”

“No. You are not involved here.” Arlecchino turned her back on him, looking out the window with her arms folded behind her.

“Father—”

“Do not forget that if you or your sibling’s interference costs me my mission, [Name]’s blood will be on your hands.”

Freminet recoiled sharply, as if she had struck him across the face. Arlecchino refused to lay a hand on any of them, but her words were more than enough to wound them.

“I—”

“I’m not looking for an argument, Freminet.”

Freminet shut his mouth with a click, lowering his head. He forced back the wave of emotions sweeping across him, sinking them so far into the depths of his mind that not even a champion diver like himself would be able to reach them.

“I am looking for an answer.” Father raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” He said quietly.

“Good child,” She murmured, laying a gentle hand on the top of his head. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Arlecchino made her move at the stroke of sundown.

It was disgustingly easy to track them down, and the sheer incompetence only fuelled her rage until it burned brighter than the flames that curled beneath her skin. The assailants were sloppy, leaving plenty of traces for her to find, as if they were waiting for her to find them.

One of her agents had returned with a slip of paper that evening—a ransom note, crudely explaining that they had captured a House of the Hearth agent, and demanding a hefty sum in exchange for their safe return. She had chuckled at that last part. They would be lucky for her to leave them with their lives after what they have done, let alone a reward.

Their hideout was located in a quiet cave near the ocean, with an entrance half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. It was a quaint spot, a cosy place to sit back and watch the sun set over the water. She was sure the view behind her was breathtaking, but she made no move to take a glance for herself.

The vines made way for a long, narrow tunnel, ending with a wooden door. Arlecchino quietly turned the handle, scoffing under her breath when it turned without a key being inserted, and slipped through without making a single sound.

Six were scattered around the dingy room; one woman, five men. Seeming to be aged between their mid-twenties at the youngest, and early-forties at the oldest.

“Have we got a response yet?” The woman muttered impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor.

“How should I know?” One of the men grunted. “We left the note. Eventually it’s gotta make it’s way to the boss herself, and we’ll get the reward.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Another murmured. “Gotta be patient.”

Slightly past them was a wooden cage, secured with a metal lock.

They were in a heap on the floor of the cage, breathing weakly—Arlecchino quietly thanked the Tsaritsa that they were breathing at all—and looked to be passed out.

The fire inside her sang, and she could hardly breathe under the heat of it all.

“How long is this woman gonna take?” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Arlecchino chuckled, causing all of the six to jump. “Oh, then allow me to assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer at all.”

Instantly they were on their feet, grabbing whatever weapon was closest. Their expressions ranged from outright fear, to an egregious amount of confidence for how weak they were in comparison to her.

“Knave,” the closest man grinned crookedly. “How kind of you to join us. I’m assuming you’re here for—” he jerked his head towards the figure still unmoving. “—that one?”

“‘That one’?” Arlecchino repeated slowly, drawing her scythe to her side. “I am here for my child.”

Two of the men—the ones closest to the cage—looked at each other nervously. Arlecchino smiled. It was a pity the rest of the group didn’t share the sense to fear her, but they would learn soon enough.

“Well you see, we’ll be happy to hand them over—” the man’s grin widened. “For a price, of course.”

“A price, you say?” She mused. “How about this. You step aside, I retrieve my child, and offer you a quick death. I would say that is more than fair, considering what you have cost me.”

The smile dropped off the man’s face. “That ain’t an option, lady.”

“Then I think you misunderstand.” She took a step towards him, then another, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Boss—” one of the men tried to say.

“Shut it.” the first man hissed, bringing his shovel up in a defensive position. It was almost laughable, how he thought that would protect him.

“You made four mistakes tonight,” Arlecchino said smoothly. The tip of her scythe brushed the floor, sending a loud scraping sound across the walls. All of the people inside the room winced at the sound, but Arlecchino was unfazed as she continued prowling towards them.

“One… you failed to cover your tracks, making it remarkably easy to track you down.” In one swift motion, she lunged. The group barely had time to blink, before her scythe sliced across the chest of the closest one.

There was silence, before the man made a low gasp, bright crimson blood spilling down his shirt. He collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud, and the room erupted into chaos. A scream tore from the throat of the woman, and she dropped to her knees at his side, desperately clutching his shoulders. Arlecchino aimed a quick strike at her back, and she fell against the man heavily.

“Two, you left the door unlocked.” A pair charged towards her, hammers and shovels swinging. She knocked the weapons from their hands with one hit, and knocked them down with a second.

“Three—” One snuck up from behind, quickly tossing a string of rope over her head and around her neck, pulling harshly to cut off her breathing. An elbow in his ribs winded him enough to loosen his grip, and a knock to the head with the hilt of her scythe sent him to the floor. “You brought far too few people to last in a fight against me.”

The final man stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, shrinking against the bricks. Arlecchino walked with slow steps, stalking towards him like an animal cornering their pray. He shielded his face with his hands, in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Once she was about a foot away, she stopped, leaning in close.

“And four.” Arlecchino grasped the man by the throat, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “You hurt my fucking child.”

She tossed his body to the side, watching him hit the wall with a thud and collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Pathetic.” She scoffed under her breath, stepping over his limp body. Her anger wasn’t nearly quelled—an inferno is not easily cooled, after all—but seeing them all lying lifelessly across the floor of their own base at least brought some vindication. She turned her back to the man, looking over at her child.

They were curled up in the cage like a trapped animal, rattling breaths ringing through the bars. Arlecchino gritted her teeth at the sight, making sure to step on the nearest captor’s fingers as she walked over. She swung her scythe against the lock, shattering it into bits of metal.

Her hands were gentle in reaching into the cage, hooking a hand under their knees and cradling their back with the other. They made a pained cry, and Arlecchino hurried to pull them out. She held them close to her chest, letting their cheek rest where her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her face didn’t falter from that stony expression, but inside she was burning with fury.

“My child,” She murmured, more to herself than the shivering form in her arms. There was something dangerous in her tone, a note of warning to the assailants still conscious enough to hear her voice. She kissed their forehead, a tender gesture out of place among the bloodshed. “Didn’t I promise you that while you’re with me, no one can hurt you?”

“F-Father…?” A broken whisper slipped through their lips, followed by a sob, first sinking Arlecchino’s heart then shattering it into two.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I’m here.” She crooned, carrying them out of the room and through the tunnel. All throughout the journey through the tunnel and back onto the beach, she didn’t stop murmuring comforts and pressing kisses to their head in the most maternal way she’d ever remembered acting.

“I’m sorry, Father…” they mumbled, cheek pressed against her chest.

“Darling…” Arlecchino hummed, even as the smouldering ashes in her chest began to spark and flicker. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

The night was cold, but her child was a warm weight in her arms. She revelled in the warmth, a gentle reminder that they were still alive.

“We’ll be home soon,” Arlecchino promised, even though they were barely conscious enough to hear her. “Soon.”

reblogs are appreciated ♡

#✒️ — writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic x reader #arlecchino x gender neutral reader #arlecchino x gn reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x gn reader

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | series masterlist

Hi, and welcome to Bora Ranch!

At Bora Ranch you will rediscover who you are, reconnect with your sister, and your childhood friend, Park Jimin, that will stir old feelings back. There's a lot of ups and downs, a lot of heartbreak, misunderstandings, what ifs, bad timing, but in the end, you will know what truly makes your heart beat, and where your heart's home is.

It's a story that will take you on a heartbreaking journey to find out what love is and the meaning of 'home', coming home and finding love. There's a lot of angst in it, I'd call it HEALING ANGST. Everything will be good in the end! Just have to go through a lot of heartbreak before the sun truly shines. There's a lot of soulmates vibes/undertones in it, and it's a lovestory at it's core. It's very romancey (Why do I suddenly feel like I wrote a YA but with mature language???).

This story is HEAVLY inspired by McLoed's Daughters (both the world/setting/plot), some plot points follow that story, but most of it doesn't.

“It will take some time To find your heart And come back home You could walk for miles Cross every river And find your not alone ‘Cos I'll be there” - From McLeod’s Daughters theme song

🐴 Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite? 🐴 Pairing: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter)*, jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc *I also want to clarify some things about the tags/pairings! Jungkook x reader only happens once, it is crucial for the sake of the plot, but please don't let that stop you from reading it (I take it you want to read it because of Jimin x reader). Jimin x reader is the main couple! 🐴 Characters: female reader (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴 AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au 🐴 Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!) 🐴 Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴 Word count: 230k (epilogue excluded) 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴 Warnings/tag: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain sexual themes, smut and a lot of sexual tension and a hell of a lot of angst! Like series is an emotional rollercoaster ride, it will leave you both happy, sad, frustrated, mad, angry and oh so in love. All through the series. You have been warned, lol. 🐴 Status: completed 🥳 🐴 Fancy reading on AO3? It is cross-posted there! 🐴 Do you want to see the book cover (there's a teaser too)? [it's here] 🐴 Author’s note: this series is heavily inspired by the TV show McLeod’s Daughters. Some plot points will feel familiar, while others won’t (because I don’t follow that story structure to a tee). But If you love that show that I do, I’m 100% sure you’ll love this story too! Also, I don’t expect people to really be interested in this… this is more of a story about coming home, finding home, finding love and such… and I don’t know if you want to read that sort of thing? But I fucking love it! ✨

Chapter #1 - Inheritance | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter one

Chapter #2 - It’s a Long Road | word count: 9.1k | read → chapter two

Chapter #3 - Sometimes | word count: 11.8k | read → chapter three

Chapter #4 - It Comes to This | word count: 7.5k | read → chapter four

Chapter #5 - Our Home, Our Place | word count: 11k | read → chapter five

Chapter #6 - Wild Horses | word count: 11k | read → chapter six

Chapter #7 - We Got it Wrong | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter seven

Chapter #8 - Love You, Hate You | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter eight

Chapter #9 - Take the Rain Away | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter nine

Chapter #10 - The First Touch | word count: 16.4k | read → chapter ten

Chapter #11 - This Perfect Day | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter eleven

Chapter #12 - Broken Dreams | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter twelve

Chapter #13 - Love Letter | word count: 13.4k | read → chapter thirteen

Chapter #14 - I Wish the Past was Different | word count: 10.5k | read → chapter fourteen

Chapter #15 - Did I Tell You? | word count: 13.7k | read → chapter fifteen

Chapter #16 - The Stranger | word count: 14.1k | read → chapter sixteen

Chapter #17 - Love of Your Life | word count: 13.3k | read → chapter seventeen

Chapter #18 - By My Side | word count: 14.7k | read → chapter eighteen

Chapter #19 - Home [END] | word count: 18.2k | read → chapter nineteen

Chapter #20 - My Heart's Home [Epilogue + Q&A] | word count: 7.4k | read → chapter twenty

Please let me know if you're excited for this??? I'm still writing it, and honestly... I love it! But it's tough to write such a long series without any feedback or knowledge whether it's good or sucks... so.. yeah....

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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moondustpugh · 3 months

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High Infidelity

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Did you really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? Did you really have to tell him how he brought you back to life?

Author's Note: Babe by Taylor Swift, High Infidelity by Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift. I don't know... I don't know... I don't know. My mind is all over the place the past week and needed to write this down for some distraction. I don't know... I never done a back to back series nor have written something like this, so yeah. Forgive me for all the trigger warnings. Everything is all so crazy. This is a very very hard thing to write because of past emotional abuse experiences in real life that still terrorizes me and maybe it's a letter for the past experience to let it go.

Disclaimer: 18+, emotional abuse, mention of harming, infidelity

(Please, please don't read this if it triggers you. I need you all to think hard about it before reading this one. This is a bit of a dark fic).

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - epilogue

“Late again?”

Your boyfriend, Eli, asked you the moment you entered the flat. You were kicking off your shoes by the front door, eyes full of exhaustion as you sighed. He was by the kitchen heating up some leftovers. You didn’t exactly understand how it was “late” because technically it was only 9pm.

“Yeah, the event went pretty late.” You replied.

You technically left the event early knowing that Eli would start asking where you were. That was how he was these days. Keeping count of everything you did.

You were technically not an official assistant in the team. You just started this job, and it was more of a paid internship that you applied to because you needed the money, and it paid really well. You worked for Joseph Quinn’s team. A British actor who got pushed into the limelight too fast after his appearance in Stranger Things.

Joe was nice. His team was nice and very organized and all you had to do was bring Joe’s things, get coffee, and help his team organize whatever they needed for Joe.

That was all.

Nothing too complicated.

Nothing for you to really complain about nor do something that could ruin this whole internship that you applied for.

Well, at least that was what you thought.

“That’s a nice dress.” Eli stepped out of the kitchen, his eyes studying you as he ate a piece of chicken.

For some reason, his eyes studying you like that made you feel angry and annoyed. It wasn’t like he was doing anything to you, but the tone of his voice was making you feel annoyed.

“Thanks. I’ll go freshen up.” You gave him a small smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips before heading down the hall.

“I’m sure many men were staring at you tonight.” Eli added his little comment that made you stop halfway from your steps and looked over your shoulder.

“I was just doing my job, assisting.” You reassured him before continuing down the hall and into your bedroom.

You weren’t going to lie. Your relationship with Eli for the past two years has been rough. He was constantly jealous, constantly making rude comments about what you wear and how you wore your makeup to the point where you had stopped putting makeup on. You had changed your whole closet to just jeans, t-shirt or jumpers. You changed your whole style and personality because you didn’t want any trouble from Eli. You didn’t want to disappoint him.

However, this new job of yours came with the responsibility of dressing up and wearing makeup when you accompany Joe through the many events or movie premieres. That made Eli squirm even more for the last four months whenever you came home wearing a nice dress and nice makeup. He would comment how the dress was too short or the dress was too revealing.

“I wore a jacket, don’t worry.” You would tell him.

“Next time, pick one that isn’t so revealing.” Eli would scoff. “You’re mine. You don’t need other men looking at you.”

You could feel the love in your relationship was slowly fading, and you didn’t know how to get out of it. You were too scared to do something about it. Terrified even what he could react or say towards this decision of yours if you ever decided to cut this off. Eli had been very aggressive towards his words to you and sometimes, even if he wouldn’t say something, you could see the disappointment all over his face. You were a people pleaser, and you were the kind of person who didn’t want any trouble, so you tried to give what he wanted most of the time.

It made you hide inside yourself even more. It made you feel insecure. It made you terrified of every decision you made because you didn’t want to upset him. You didn’t want to see that reaction on his face even if his lips were saying something else. It made you feel like you were walking on broken glass every time.

Sliding yourself under the covers next to Eli that night, you saw his eyes studying you the moment you entered the room and brushed your hair in front of your vanity. His eyes never left you until you laid next to him. He immediately moved himself close to you and pulled you in his arms, hugging you from behind.

“So, how many more events do you have to go to?” He asked.

You sighed, closing your eyes. Eli was never interested in your job. You knew he was asking about it, so he knew what he was expecting. By that, it meant he would be monitoring the outfits that you would wear and the people that would be around you in that event.

“Not sure.” You murmured. “I’ll let you know once my supervisor lets me know.”

Eli lets out a soft hum and kisses you on your cheek before turning you to face him and kisses you roughly on the lips, towering over you. For a second, you went with it and kissed him back, pushing your body against his and letting him have what he wanted. He lets his soft fingers slide the strap of your tank top, kissing your bare shoulder. His lips found the skin of your neck as he softly sucked onto the skin, a small gasp escaping your lips.

“Babe.” You whispered, slowly pulling away. “I’m tired. I’m early tomorrow.”

Eli sighed, letting himself laid back down on the bed next to you.

“You’re always tired.” He argued. “The last time we had sex was last week.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired today, and I have to get up early tomorrow.” You turned your back on him, closing your eyes.

“Right.” Eli said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

You looked over your shoulder, sitting up on the bed as he made his way towards the door.

“No, c’mon. Don’t be so upset.” You said.

You could see it all over his eyes that was getting upset, and you knew if you didn’t do something about this, he wouldn’t talk to you for the next two days. He would make up an excuse that he was busy and that he would be with his friends.

“Come here.” You reached your hand out to him as he paused in his tracks and stared at your hand.

He gave you a small smile and walked towards the side of your bed, taking your hand in his as he kissed you hungrily and towered over you on the bed. You let him touch you in all the ways he wanted to, but you just felt numb. You couldn’t breathe as you stared into the white ceiling and kissed him back softly, letting his fingers brush against your burning skin. You felt disassociated as he kissed you hungrily and pushed himself inside of you.

You felt nothing but disgusted with yourself for being so weak.

That was how you have been feeling lately with your relationship. You felt trapped and you felt like a chain has been around your neck lately, and Eli was pulling it every chance he got.

“Hey, could you go to the coffee shop down the block to get everyone coffee?” Alex, Joe’s manager, asked, interrupting your thoughts the next day.

“Uh…sure.” Alex handed you a piece of paper with everyone’s orders.

Your job was always simple but as time went on, your interaction with certain people became more frequent. In the beginning, Joe couldn’t even look at you nor acknowledge you that much unless he was thanking you for bringing him the things he needed. Then, Alex and his team had gotten busier that the things in your list were starting to add up. Part of your job has been added to “make sure Joe is in this place at a certain time,” or “make sure Joe wears this suit instead of this.”

Then, there was the chore that Alex would give you to make sure that his collar, tie or buttons on his shirt was perfect before he stepped out of the red carpet.

“Do you enjoy your job?” Joe had asked you that one time when you had sat on the sofa of his dressing room, waiting for the rest of his team to arrive.

“Sure.” Your voice almost sounded so monotone that Joe couldn’t even believe your answer.

He sat there and tilted his head at you, one brow raised and waited for your real answer. You let out a deep breath, closing the magazine that you were reading and set it back on the table.

“I guess it’s okay. Couldn’t complain.” You shrugged.

Joe let out a soft understanding hum and focused his attention back to his phone, scrolling his time away. He was getting ready for his movie premiere, and you were there to make sure that everything he needed was there. That he looked perfect right before he stepped out of the red carpet.

Not that you hated your job but sometimes, it could get so repetitive that you looked bored after the events. The rest of Joe’s team would go and prepare whatever they needed to, and you would just make sure Joe was fine. That he didn’t need anything.

“Here.” Joe handed you a glass of martini at the after party of the premiere.

“No, thanks. I’m technically still working.”

“And looked bored.” Joe’s face was a little too close to yours as he whispered those words.

You hesitated, your eyes scanning the room trying to look for a sign of Alex. Joe couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“They went home. So, technically you’re the only one left here.” Joe answered the question that you were asking in your head. “C’mon. You deserve it for working so hard all the time.”

Pursing your lips, you stared at the glass that Joe was holding before finally taking it from his hand and taking a sip of it. Joe smiled and took a sip of his own drink, his eyes scanning the room before falling back to you.

“Are you usually this quiet?” Joe asked.

“I’m just doing my job.” You answered, a small smile creeping up on Joe’s face. “I don’t want to interrupt anyone.”

“You’re not interrupting me.” Joe smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

You could tell he already had a few drinks before this conversation. You continued to drink the glass of martini in your hand and didn’t reply a word to what Joe said. You could tell the alcohol was making him a little bolder, and he was trying to flirt. You didn’t want to step into any boundaries because first of all, it was inappropriate, and you didn’t want to lose this job either.

“So, how long have you been here in London?” Joe asked.

“About two years.” Your answers were plain and simple as Joe continued to play 20 questions with you.

By the end of the night, you both seemed to open up to each other a little bit more, and you were able to learn Joe more personally. The thing was that you didn’t realize that night was going to be a start of something new between you and him because ever since that event, Joe’s attention was on you most of the time. He would gaze down at you and give you small smiles, while you would fix his collar or tie before he stepped out onto the red carpet.

Then, during after parties, you would be left to babysit Joe, and you would notice how his eyes would catch your eyes across the room. You sat in the corner and minded your own business, your focus on your phone. However, Joe would walk towards you and catch your attention.

“Wanna dance?” Joe held out his hand.

You bit your lower lip and said, “I don’t dance, sorry.”

Joe sighed and sat next to you, his eyes lingering on the screen of your work phone.

“Whatever Alex is telling you to do can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have a full to-do list.”

Joe laughed softly, raising his brow at you. “A full to-do list? I’m the one who has to stand in front of those cameras and do the interviews, remember?”

Joe had a point.

Though, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “True.”

You and Joe would talk for the rest of the night. You both would laugh and tease each other. You both would start talking about personal things, and he somehow was able to understand you well. It made your heart swell a little bit.

It wasn’t right that you felt this way towards Joe because you were in a relationship. You could just easily let Joe know that you weren’t single and that whatever flirty tricks he was trying to do to you, it wouldn’t work. However, you kept dancing around that subject. You didn’t bother bringing that subject up and towards the end of the night, you both would start flirting a little bit more. Besides the fact that you were in a relationship, you also didn’t want to do anything unprofessional or inappropriate because at the end of the night, you were technically still working for Joe’s team and Joe. So, you tried your best not to lead him on.

That was until you had come home one night and found Eli waiting for you in the living room. You arrived home half an hour past nine, and he already looked upset the moment you had stepped inside the flat.

“Where have you been?” Eli’s tone of voice wasn’t what you liked at all.

“I’m sorry, I had to finish some things. I texted you I was going to be late.” You explained.

“No, you didn’t.” Eli argued.

“Yes, I did. Didn’t you get my message?” You knitted your brows, making sure your voice was calm because you didn’t want to upset him even more.

You watched Eli pick up his phone from the coffee table and looked down at it and let out a deep breath.

“You know, maybe you should look for another job if they keep making you stay up this late.”

You slid your coat off and hung it on the coat hanger and said, “It’s only 9:30. It’s not that late, Eli.”

You heard Eli scoff and shook his head. “So, you'd rather be with them than with me?”

You were confused.

Where did that subject came from?

You didn’t understand why Eli was acting like this. Shouldn’t he be more supportive about your career? Didn’t you tell him that you needed this job because you needed the money? What else did you have to say or do to make sure he would stop this jealousy thing because it was making you so exhausted.

“I… I didn’t say that.” You murmured.

“Maybe you just don’t love me the way I love you. Just tell me, and it’s fine. I’ll happily go.” Eli shrugged, looking down at the floor.

You walked towards him, taking his hands in yours. The guilt inside of you brewed in your stomach but at the same time, you wanted to vomit.

“I do love you. I told you that, remember? I love you.”

You felt nothing.

“Then, find another job… for me.” Eli looked into your eyes.

“I… I can’t. It’s hard to look for another job out there and this pays me well, while I’m able to learn the entertainment industry. You know how much I want a career in that industry.”

Eli’s eyes suddenly turned glum again. He slid his hands away from yours and exhaled sharply.

“Why would you even want to be in that industry? So you could be naked and show everyone that?”

You couldn’t understand what he was saying. You couldn't understand why he was acting like this.

“You know that’s not true!” You argued.

You were exhausted from explaining yourself over and over again, and he just didn’t believe you. You felt like whatever you did was never enough for him. Tears started welling up in your eyes as you watched Eli grab his car keys.

“Wh…Where are you going?” Your voice stuttered, terrified of what he might do.

“Obviously, you don’t love me. I mean… no one loves me, so what’s the point, right?”

You grabbed his hand, trying to take the keys away, but he had his hand in a fist as he tried to slide his hand away from your grip.

“No, stop! Please.” You begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Don’t do this.”

“If you love me, you’d do this for me.” Eli replied, his eyes hardened as he stared at you.

You didn’t say a word because what he was asking of you was impossible. You already had lost yourself and your dignity. Your job at the moment was the only thing that you have that could maybe help you get back up again. After a few seconds of not replying, Eli pulled his wrist away from your grip, shaking his head.

“If you find me dead on the road then that’s on you.” He stated before walking out the front door.

“Eli!” You cried out, running out the door, but it was too late as he had already gotten in the car and drove off.

Going back inside the flat, you laid on your bed that night, sobbing and questioning as to how you have gotten yourself into this situation. Questioning every decision you made as to why you were too weak to break this off.

What if you break this thing off, and Eli would actually harm himself? It would be all your fault like he said. What if no one could love you after this? What about the happy memories that the two of you had at the beginning? What if you would regret it at the end for letting him go? You knew you were the only one that he had left in his life. You couldn’t do that to him either. You couldn’t easily just get out.

You were trapped.

Stuck.

Frozen.

Around midnight, Eli had come back home. You weren’t asleep when he had entered the bedroom, but you had your eyes closed. How could you sleep after tonight? How were you able to have a peace of mind if he was out there? How would you know that he didn’t do anything to himself? It would be all your fault if something happened to him.

You just couldn’t shut your mouth and agreed with what he was asking, couldn’t you?

Feeling his arms wrapped around your torso, you felt him nuzzling your hair. You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You knew he wasn’t going to apologize, so you didn’t try to hope for that. Eventually, he had fallen asleep, holding you that night. A tear rolled down your cheek as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to block out your sobs, so he wouldn’t wake up.

At this point, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

You just felt numb and lost, choking in your own tears.

Taglist:

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#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #High Infidelity #moondustpugh #part one

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multiversal-bridge · 8 months

Text

Pale is Worth Your Time

So today Wildbow posted the last epilogue of Pale. It’s finished. Which means there’s never been a better time to get into a megafictional epic about three teenagers solving a murder mystery and learning to be wizards.

If you’re looking at its word count – longer than any of his other web serials by far – and wondering if something that long is really worth getting into…

I’m here to tell you that the answer is yes.

Pale is worth it. It gets my fullest, most ringing endorsement.

There are a few fight scenes that drag a bit, but overall, Pale is the best-paced and just plain best-written of any of Wildbow’s works. Unlike some other web fiction I’ve read, and even some of his previous works, Pale knows exactly what it wants to be and is firing on all cylinders to get there.

Pale is Wildbow at the top of his game, creating brilliant, emotional character moments and a rich, expansive magical universe. And I think it’s a better introduction to that universe than Pact, which is a much bleaker story. Pale makes the Otherverse fun and accessible, in a way that enhances reading Pact, too.

And also it’ll rewire your brain? In the best way? There’s no other story about how to fight for justice, about parents and children, about how to live in the world as a person, that comes anywhere close to discussing them with as much depth as Pale does.

But the neat part is, you don’t have to take my word for it.

Pale isn’t one of those works where you have to slog through a certain amount before it “gets good.” Everything I’ve been talking about here is present in Pale from the very beginning.

So if you’re on the fence about Pale, I recommend reading an arc or two and seeing if you like it. If it’s not for you, then you can figure that out without that much time investment.

But if it gets its hooks into you? Then you’re in for a treat. You’ve got one hell of a ride ahead of you, a story you can sink into with just as much obsession as a multi-season TV show.

Come join us in the world of Pale. Come hang out with Lucy, Avery, and Verona.

It’s pretty great over here.

#pale #pale web serial #wildbow #wormblr #parahumans #and whatever else we want to call the overall wildbow fan community

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celiciaa · 2 months

Text

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

EPILOGUE.

I just love you.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

special thanks to @otomehoneyybearr for proofreading! ♡

minors and ageless blogs dni.

The spy who reported Emma having been caught up in a runaway carriage looked as pale as the dead.

Probably because I was unconsciously emitting an unprecedented amount of murderous intent.

(As I thought, keeping the little rabbit in a cage is the best way to keep her safe.)

Fortunately, Emma’s injuries were minor, as the spy put himself in her place to protect her.

However, it seems that she hit her head while avoiding the carriage.

The moment when Walter’s examination revealed that she had lost all memory of her life as Belle,

I couldn't stay calm enough to start planning the date for the coachman's execution in my head.

Emma: Why…am I in Obsidian?

Gilbert: Of course, because I brought you here.

Emma: But why a commoner like me….?

Gilbert: Because I’m the big villain who loves the little rabbit very much.

(….You’re so terrified of me.)

The little rabbit backed up to the wall, looking visibly frightened.

In front of her is the royal family of Obsidian, the enemy of Rhodolite and the root of all evil,

Of course, her reaction was natural.

(I remembered the little rabbit was also like this back when we first met.)

(….The woman who told me she loves me is gone now.)

(….You said you will be by my side forever, but you lied.)

Although dark emotions swirled around me, I somehow managed to push them behind a smile.

But the little rabbit seemed to instinctively sense something.

(This is why I hated it.)

(…I never wanted to love anyone.)

The morning after with a calm head, I immediately started developing a cure.

━━

She may eventually remember, or never at all.

It's a gamble, but I'll go about it like I normally would.

(Easier said than done.)

(….I'll do it even if it's impossible.)

As I absent-mindedly listed various formulas,

I noticed that the gaze of the little rabbit that I had brought along with me had been fixated on something.

Emma: Why are there roses here?

Gilbert: Oh, you realized it was a rose even though it wasn't in bloom?

The roses, which rarely bloom in this barren land of Obsidian, are similar to this medicine.

As I approached the roses that were born out of love, the little rabbit stood next to me.

Gilbert: I'm thinking of building a rose garden in the castle.

Emma: A rose garden?

Gilbert: Yes. A rose garden even grander than Rhodolite’s.

Emma: To love roses so much…

Gilbert: Because you do.

Emma: Me…?

Gilbert: You love roses more than I do, don't you?

Gilbert: I thought you'd be happy.

(….But right now, these roses are poison to you.)

(You look like you want to go back home.)

(…I don't want to let you go.)

Gilbert: Shall I grant you permission?

Emma: Permission for what?

Gilbert: To return back to your hometown.

Emma: …!

Contrary to my heart, my mouth moves on its own.

(I really want to lock you in a cage….)

(But ever since I met you, I've been full of contradictions.)

━━

Since I had given permission, I had no doubt that the little rabbit would want to return to Rhodolite.

And sure enough, when I saw her visiting my room in the middle of the night, my premonition turned into certainty.

If I shot her in the leg right now, she wouldn't be able to go home— I thought to myself, this is such a cruel thing to do.

Emma: A surprise interview.

Gilbert: Huh?

Emma: I am here to request an interview with you, Gilbert.

Gilbert: ….

(….Ah, this is why…)

(I can't shoot you, and I can't lock you up.)

(You must be scared without your memories, yet you still prioritize facing me rather than going back home.)

(…Even if I don't want to love you, I still end up loving you.)

━━

In exchange for being interviewed by the little rabbit, I receive one kiss each.

I gradually provided her with information based on such an arrangement,

As we exchanged kisses, the types of kiss changed noticeably with each time.

What was initially done reluctantly, gradually extended the duration of our contact.

Now, the little rabbit is drowning in our deep kiss with our tongues intertwined together.

Even the little rabbit's expression that had been awkward while facing a fearsome beast,

Had also changed into something intoxicating that emitted a seductive allure.

(…I guess it wasn't the drugs you needed to cure your amnesia, but my feelings itself.)

(The more I talked to you, the more you seemed to remember how much I was in love with you….)

As I kneeled on the floor, I ended the long kiss and pulled away.

There was no fear left in the expression of the little rabbit sitting in the chair.

Gilbert: Do you still have questions for me?

Emma: …Yes.

Her pure, clear eyes flickered wildly.

Emma: Gilbert —— Gil, are you feeling lonely?

(….)

Gilbert: Isn't it obvious?

Gilbert: I am feeling lonely.

(You've already reminded me of what loneliness feels like, so please don't do something like this again.)

Emma: I’m sorry.

She kisses me tenderly with an apology, but I bite her lip, unable to forgive her.

Gilbert: Only words?

Emma: ….

With a glance, I urged her on, and eventually, she began to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse.

(Yeah....It really does seem like you’re remembering everything.)

I shook my head at the little rabbit who was now in her underwear,

Although her face looked like she was about to cry, different from fear, she methodically dropped the thin cloth onto the floor.

I bit down hard on her body that was wearing nothing but a belt around her thigh and a gun.

Emma: Ow…

I bit her thighs, her sides, her chest, and her shoulders.

As I traced the bite marks that were gradually increasing with my fingers, Emma’s body trembled.

Gilbert: There won't be a next time, okay?

Gilbert: If something like this happens again, I will strip away anything that might cause an accident.

Emma: That means…?

Gilbert: If there’s no coachman, no carriages, nothing at all, then you wouldn't have any more accidents…right?

Emma: …I'll be careful! I'll be careful, so please stop!

Gilbert: Ahaha.

(….I might actually do it, so I won't say anything else.)

Gilbert: Emma, even if it's an accident, don't make me feel lonely anymore.

Gilbert: It's your responsibility to keep me alive.

I bit her lips one last time, and Emma responds with a tender kiss.

Emma: I'll never forget.

Emma: I don't want my love to be concluded as "false love".

━━FLASHBACK━━

Gilbert: A beautiful heart that cares for others is nothing but disgusting. I still doubt you.

Gilbert: Where's the love in telling me a terrible lie and leaving me alone?

Gilbert: But…

Gilbert: Only for you….

Gilbert: I'm going to try to love you again.

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

(Really….)

Gilbert: Be careful, Emma.

Gilbert: You are my last hope.

▸ [ previous ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

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suddencolds · 3 months

Text

The Worst Timing | [5/5]

we made it!!! part 5/5 + a mini epilogue (5.6k words) at long last 🥹 (aka the installment in which i remember that h/c has a c in it in addition to the h, haha.) [part 1] is here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

The world comes back to him in pieces—first the wooden panels of the ceiling, the sloped wooden beams. The coldness of the room, the slight, monotonous whir of the air circulating through one of the vents overhead.

He’s leaned up against the wall, seated on the floor in the hallway, and Vincent is kneeling beside him, his eyebrows furrowed.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He had been about to head back to the courtyard, hadn’t he? He doesn’t have much memory of anything that happened after, but judging by Vincent’s reaction, he thinks he can probably guess.

“Hi,” Yves says, for lack of a better thing to say.

He watches a complicated set of expressions flicker through Vincent’s face—relief, first, before it turns to something distinctly less neutral.

“You’re awake,” Vincent says. He turns away, for a moment. Yves notes the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his grip—his fingers white around Yves’s sleeve.

“Was I out for long?”

“A couple minutes.”

Yves wants to say something. He should say something. Anything to lighten the tension, anything to get the point across that this is all just an unlucky miscalculation, on his part. It really isn’t something Vincent should have to be worried about.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he starts. Really, what he means is, I’m sorry for making you worry about me. “I promise I’mb fine.”

The look on Vincent’s face, then, is something that Yves hasn’t seen before.

“Why do you have to—” he starts, frustration rising in his voice. He sighs, his jaw set. “I don’t understand why you—” He drops his hand from Yves’s sleeve, and it’s then when Yves notices the stiffness to his shoulders, the tension in his posture. He runs a hand through his hair, lets out another short, exasperated breath. “You’re not fine.”

It’s strange, Yves thinks, to see him like this—Vincent, who usually never wears his emotions on his face, looks clearly displeased, now.

“Hey,” Yves says, softly. He reaches out to take Vincent’s hand. Vincent goes very still with the contact, but he doesn’t say anything. “I—”

Fuck. His body seems to always pick the worst time for unwanted interjections. He wrenches his hand away just in time to smother a sneeze into his sleeve, though it’s forceful enough to leave him slightly lightheaded.

“Stay here,” Vincent says, getting to his feet. “Lay down if you get dizzy again.”

Yves blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To tell the others that we’re leaving.”

Yves wants to protest. Dinner is already halfway over. It’s not as if the festivities are particularly strenuous. They’ll probably move inside after dinner, where it’s warmer.

But he thinks better of it. Judging by how exhausted he still feels, how much his head aches, it probably wouldn’t be wise to push it.

“Don’t tell them about this,” he says.

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Aimee is going to worry if she finds out,” Yves says, dropping his head to his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Vincent, doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face. “Just—let them have this night. It’s—supposed to be perfect.” I really wanted it to be perfect, he almost adds. There’s a strange tightness to his throat as he says it, a strange heaviness to his chest.

He knows what it means. If, after he’s tried so hard to do his part, their evening still ends up ruined on his own accord, he’s not sure if he could live with himself after.

For a moment, Vincent doesn’t say anything at all.

“Okay,” he says, at last. “Just stay here.”

And then he heads down the hallway. The door at the end of the reception hall swings shut behind him. Yves thinks he should be relieved, but he finds that he doesn’t feel much other than exhausted.

—

The ride home on the shuttle is silent. Vincent sits next to him, even though all of the other seats are empty. Yves thinks the proximity is probably inadvisable. He opens his mouth to say as much, and then shuts it.

Vincent sits and stares straight ahead, his posture stiff, and doesn’t say anything for the entirety of the ride. It’s strange. Yves is no stranger to silence—Vincent is, after all, a coworker, and Yves has endured more than a few quiet elevator rides and quiet team lunches at the office, but it’s strange because it’s Vincent.

Vincent, who usually takes care to make conversation with him, whenever it’s just the two of them. Vincent, who stayed up through the lull of antihistamines a couple months ago to talk to Yves, until Yves had given him explicit permission to go to sleep.

Yves tries not to think about it. Through the haze of his fever, everything feels unusually bright—the interior of the shuttle, with its leather seats and metal handrails.

The shuttle stops just outside the main entrance to their hotel. Just before he gets to the doors, he stumbles. Vincent’s hand shoots out, instinctively, to steady him.

“Sorry,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. It’s not that he’s dizzy. The roads are just uneven, and it’s dark. “I can walk.”

But Vincent doesn’t let go—not for the entirety of the walk through the cool, air-conditioned lobby, through the hallways to the hotel elevators. Not when the elevator stops at their floor, not when they pass by the grid of wooden doors leading up to their room.

Before Yves can manage to reach for his keycard, Vincent has already swiped them in, scarily efficient. He slides the card back into his pocket, pushes the door open.

“Thadks for walking me back,” Yves says. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer. You mbust’ve been halfway through dinner.”

“I already finished eating,” Vincent says.

“Even dessert?” Yves says. “I think Aimee got everyone creme brulee from one of the local bakeries. I was excited to try it. Maybe Leon can save us some.” he muffles a yawn into his hand. It’s too early to be sleeping, but his pull out bed looks very inviting right now.

“Take the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

“The bed’s warmer.”

There’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Vincent take the pull-out bed in his place, Yves thinks blearily. He’s spent the past couple nights muffling sneezes into the covers—if there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that he really, really doesn’t want Vincent to catch this.

“I dod’t think we should switch,” he says, sniffling. “I’ve been sleeping here ever sidce I started coming down with this. I’mb— hHeh-!” He veers away, raising an elbow to his face. “hh—HHEh’IIDZschH’-iEEW! Ugh, I’mb pretty sure I contaminated it.”

“We can both take the bed, if you’d prefer,” Vincent says. As if it’s that simple.

Yves opens his mouth to protest—is Vincent really okay with sharing a bed with him?—but then he thinks about Vincent finding him in the hallway—the stricken expression on his face, then, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched—and thinks better of himself.

Instead, he lets Vincent lead him to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made—the covers drawn, the pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Lay down,” Vincent says, pushing lightly down on his shoulders. Yves sits. He peels off his suit jacket, folds it, and sets it aside on the nightstand.

“Hey, I kdow that was sudden,” he says, in reference to earlier. “I’mb sorry you had to witness it. I… probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Vincent says nothing, to that.

Yves lays down, shuts his eyes. “You didn’t have to accompady me home, you know.”

Silence. He exhales, burrowing deeper into the covers. “It’s not as bad as it looks, seriously.”

He opens his mouth to say more. He has to say something, he thinks, to convince Vincent that it’s really not that big of a deal. Anything, to assuage that look on Vincent’s face.

But he’s so tired. He can feel the exhaustion now that he’s finally let himself lay down. The bed is traitorously comfortable, with its soft feather pillows and its fluffy layers of blankets, and Vincent was right—it really is warmer.

He feels the press of a hand on his forehead, feels the cold, unyielding pressure. Feels gentle, calloused fingers brush the hair out of his face.

“Sleep,” Vincent says, firmly.

And Yves—

Yves, already half gone, is powerless, when Vincent says it like that.

—

When he wakes, it’s just barely bright outside. He takes it in—the first few rays of sunlight, streaking through the curtains. The bed, a little more well-cushioned than the pullout bed he’d spent the past few nights on—higher up and decisively sturdier. He blinks.

Beside him, seated on a chair he recognizes as belonging to the desk at the opposite end of the room, is Vincent.

Vincent, awake. Yves isn’t sure if he’s slept at all. He certainly doesn’t look tired, at first glance, but closer inspection reveals a little more. It’s evident in the way he holds his shoulders, stiff, and perhaps a little tired, as if there’s been tension sitting in them all night.

He’s reading a book. Whether he bought it at the convenience store downstairs, or on one of the other days when Yves was busy running errands for the wedding and Vincent was elsewhere, or whether it’d been sitting in his suitcase since the start of the vacation, Yves doesn’t know.

“How’s the book?” Yves says.

His throat is dry, he realizes, for the way it makes him cough, afterwards. Vincent’s eyes meet his, unerringly. He shuts the book, sets it down on the bedside table.

“It’s a little boring,” Vincent says. “How’s the fever?”

Before Yves can answer, Vincent leans forward and presses the back of his hand to Yves’s forehead. His touch is unerringly gentle, and Yves allows himself to look.

Vincent’s eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and Yves wonders, suddenly, if he’s been this worried for awhile, now. If he’s been this worried ever since he’d walked them both back into the hotel room last night.

“I’m fine,” Yves says.

It has the opposite effect he intends it to.

Vincent’s expression shutters. “The last time you said that, you passed out in front of me,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a frown. “So forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

Yves sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s a fair point. “I’m usually more reliable whed it comes to these things.”

“What things?”

“Kdowing my limits.”

Vincent says, “I think you knew your limits. I think you just didn’t want to honor them, because you decided the wedding took precedence.”

He’s… frustrated, Yves realizes. Still. He’s sure he can guess why. Their fake relationship does not extend to Vincent having to look after him, to Vincent having to drop everything in the middle of a wedding, of all things, to take him home. To Vincent having to worry about all this—the fever Yves knows he has, now, and the bed he’s currently taking up—on top of everything else. As if being in a foreign country, surrounded by people he knows almost exclusively through Yves, who, for the most part, converse in a language he barely speaks, wasn’t already enough work on its own.

And Yves gets it. He hadn’t wanted this to happen, either. He’d told himself that if this—this pretend relationship, this pretense—is contingent upon both of them playing their part, the least he can do is be self-sufficient outside of it.

But now—because Vincent is here with him, and because they share a hotel room—all of this is now Vincent’s problem, too, by extension.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks.

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly, as if the answer is evident.

“You gave up your bed just for me to steal it,” Yves says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s really comfortable, and all, but I’mb pretty sure they make these kinds of beds for two.”

“Is that a proposition?” Vincent says.

“Maybe.” Yves thinks it through. “Realistically, probably ndot, until I have a chance to shower.” He’s still dressed in his dress shirt and slacks from yesterday, a little embarrassingly—he should probably get changed. “Speaking of which, I should do that soon, so you don’t feel the need to stay up all night reading—” Yves leans forward, squints at the book cover on the nightstand. “—Hemingway? Somehow, I didn’t expect you to be the type.”

“I’m not,” Vincent says. “Victoire lent it to me.”

“Oh,” Yves says, trying to think of when Vincent would’ve had time to ask her for a recommendation. “Yeah. She’s—” He twists aside, ducking into his elbow. “hHEH’IIDzschh-EEW! snf-! She’s quite the literary reader. Is it really that boring?”

“I can see why people think the transparency of his prose is appealing,” Vincent says. “But I’m fifty pages in, and nothing has happened.”

“Isd’t that the sort of thing Hemingway can get away with, since he’s straightforward about it?”

“In a short story, maybe,” Vincent says. Then: “You are trying to make me feel better.”

Ah.

Yves laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

Vincent just sighs. “I would be exceptionally unobservant not to notice when I’ve seen you do the same thing all this week.”

“What?”

“Telling people that you’re fine,” Vincent says. “And distracting them when they don’t believe you.”

Yves doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate. It’s not like he was trying to be dishonest. It’s just that it was never the most important thing to address.

“Distracting is a bit disingenuous.”

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, with a frown. “You’re so insistent on putting yourself last, even when you were obviously—” He sighs. There it is—that expression again, the one that makes itself evident through the furrowed eyebrows, the tense set of his jaw—frustration, and maybe something else. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, so why not just—”

“There are plenty of things more important than how I’mb feeling,” Yves says.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

But of course it is, Yves thinks. A wedding is a once in a lifetime occurrence. An illness is nothing, in the face of that.

“I promised I’d be there,” he says, because when it really comes down to it, it’s true. He had no intention of going back on his word. “I didn’t want to be the one to let them down. Is that so hard to believe?” He reaches up with a hand to massage his temples. His head aches, even though he’s slept for long enough that he feels like it ought to feel a little better, by now. “It’s already bad enough that I had to drag you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into this,” Vincent says. “I came on my own volition.”

Yves tries a laugh, but it’s humorless. “I made you leave halfway through the wedding dinner.”

“I’d already finished eating.”

“Ndot to mention, you practically had to carry me upstairs.”

“Because you’re ill.”

“That’s no excuse.” Yves wants to say more, but he finds himself beholden to a tickle in the back of his throat—irritatingly present, until he concedes to it by ducking into his elbow to cough, and cough.

When he looks up, blinking tears out of his vision, Vincent isn’t looking at him.

“You should get some rest,” he says, simply.

Yves can tell—just by the way he says it—that there is no argument to him, anymore. Just like that, Vincent is back to being closed off—poised and perfectly, infuriatingly unreadable, just like he is at work, his face so carefully a mask of indifference, even in the most stressful presentations, the most frustrating disagreements. Yves wants none of it.

“Hey,” he says. A part of him itches to crack a joke, to change the subject—anything to take away this air of seriousness. A part of him wants to reach out, again—to take Vincent’s hand, entwine their fingers; to reassure him, again, that he’s really fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead. Maybe it’s the fever that loosens his tongue. Maybe it’s just a combination of everything.

He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him, still. Vincent has always held a sort of intensity to him, a quiet sort of perceptiveness. “I’m not sure I follow,” Vincent says.

“This visit was supposed to be fun for you,” he says. “And now you’re here, stuck in the hotel room because of me, even though today was supposed to be for sightseeing.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. What can he say to make it enough? There’s a strange ache in his chest, a strange, crushing pressure. Yves is horrified to find his eyes stinging. He’s held it together for so long, he thinks. Why now? Why, when Vincent is right here?

But a part of him knows, too. Of course traveling to a different country would be more involved than going to a party, or spending an evening at a stranger��s house. But there was a time when he thought this could really just be a fun excursion for the both of them—half a week in his family’s home country, with someone who he thoroughly enjoys spending time with.

And now, because of this untimely illness—or because of his own short-sightedness in managing it—it isn’t. He didn’t get to stay through dinner, didn’t get to wish Aimee and Genevieve a good rest of their night, like he’d planned to. He has no idea if things went smoothly in his absence. To make matters worse, Vincent is here, having endured a sleepless night, instead of anywhere else.

And really, when he thinks about it, who does have to blame for all of this, except himself?

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” he says. “So I’m sorry.” He resists the urge to swipe a hand over his eyes—surely, he thinks, that would give him away.

He turns away. It’s convenient, he thinks, that the embarrassing sniffle that follows could be attributed to something else.

“You’ve been nothing but accommodating to me, this whole visit,” Vincent says. “If anything, I should’ve insisted that you take the bed earlier. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

He says it with such certainty. Yves opens his mouth to protest this—or to apologize, for all the times he must’ve kept Vincent up, including but not limited to last night—but Vincent presses on.

“You spent all of yesterday morning helping everyone get ready, and when I got back, you apologized for not being around—as if the reason why you weren’t around wasn’t that you were so busy making sure everything was fine for everyone else.” Vincent pauses, takes in a slow, measured breath. Yves is surprised to hear that he sounds… distinctly angry, in a way that Yves is not used to hearing.

“And then you showed up to the rehearsal and the wedding, even though you weren’t feeling well. And you still think you have something to apologize for? Are you even hearing yourself?” Yves hears the creak of the chair as he stands, the sound of quiet footsteps. Feels the dip of the bed as Vincent takes a seat at the edge of it.

“You know, after you left the dinner table, Genevieve was talking about how much she liked your speech? Do you know that yesterday morning, Solaine told me how grateful she was that you helped her with fixing her dress? Do you know that when I got lunch with Leon and Victoire, they told me how much time you spent preparing for everything—the speech, and the wedding, both?”

Oh. Yves hadn’t known any of those things, and he knows Vincent isn’t the kind of person who would lie about this sort of thing.

“I don’t get it,” Vincent says, sounding distinctly pained to say it. “How could you possibly think that you haven’t done enough?”

Yves finds himself taken aback—by the frustration in his voice, by the fact that Vincent has noticed these things in the first place, by the fact that he’s deemed them important enough to take stock of. He makes it sound so simple.

“I don’t know,” Yves says, at last. He shuts his eyes. “If it was enough.”

“I’m telling you that it was,” Vincent says.

But Yves knows that he could have done more, if the circumstances were different. If he hadn’t been so out of it during the wedding. If he’d taken the necessary precautions to avoid coming down with this in the first place. If he’d been able to stay through dinner, at least; if he hadn’t needed Vincent to accompany him home.

“You don’t believe me,” Vincent says, with a sigh.

Yves doesn’t say anything, to that.

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Vincent says. There’s the slight rustling of the covers as he shifts, rearranging one of the pillows at the headboard. “But I had fun.”

Yves’s heart twists.

It’s sweet, unexpectedly. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Yves says.

“When have I ever said anything just to make you feel better?” Vincent says, with a short laugh. When Yves chances a look at him, he’s smiling down at himself. “I mean it. Meeting your family has been a lot of fun. It’s not often that I get the chance to be a part of something like this.”

Whether he’s referring to France, or the wedding and the festivities, or being surrounded by Yves’s large extended family, Yves isn’t sure. But if Vincent is trying to cheer him up, it’s working.

“I can see why you like France so much,” he says, turning his gaze out the window, though the view outside is filtered through the semi-translucent curtains. “It’s beautiful.”

“Today was supposed to be the last day for sightseeing,” Yves says, a little regretful. “But you’re stuck here.”

“In a sunny, luxurious hotel room, with a view of the pool and the garden?” Vincent says, with a scoff. “I could think of worse places to be.”

Staying up all night, just to check up on Yves, more accurately. Vincent must be tired, too—yesterday was already tiring enough. And now it’s morning already, and he hasn’t gotten any sleep.

“Reading Hemingway,” Yves adds.

Vincent looks a little surprised. Then he laughs. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Perhaps it’s an agonizing experience after all.”

The yawn he stifles into his hand, after that isn’t half as subtle as he tries to make it.

Yves feels his eyebrows creep up. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep? There’s plenty of room.” He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed, just to make a point.

Vincent peers down at the space beside him, a little hesitant. “At 10am?”

“It’d be, what, 4am, back in Eastern time?” Yves says. “By Ndew York standards, you’re supposed to already be asleep.”

“That’s not how it works,” Vincent says, but he dutifully moves a little closer to Yves anyways. He’s changed out of yesterday’s wedding attire, more sensibly, but now he’s wearing a knitted cardigan which Yves thinks looks unfairly, terribly good on him. Yves finds himself marveling at the unfairness of it all. How can someone look so good wearing something so casual?

Vincent smells good, up close. When he lays down next to Yves, pulling the covers gingerly over himself—leaving a careful amount of room between them, but still dangerously, intoxicatingly close—Yves feels his breath catch in his throat.

Vincent is right there, less than an arm’s length away from him, closer than he’s ever been, and Yves—Yves is—

“See,” Yves says, as evenly as he can manage to, in his current state, as if his heart isn’t practically beating out of his chest. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “This bed definitely fits two.”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent says. “Now you can tell me if I’m a terrible person to share a bed with.”

“After everything I’ve put you through,” Yves says, “I think I’d honestly feel reassured if you were.”

Vincent smiles, again, as if he finds this humorous. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive,” Yves says. “You should sleep. I’ll wake you if I ndeed anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Vincent shuts his eyes.

It’s not long before his breathing evens out, not long before he goes perfectly still. He must really be tired, Yves thinks, with a pang.

Yves, for some reason, finds that he can’t get to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling for what feels like minutes on end, shuts his eyes, all to no avail. Maybe it’s because he’s already slept far more than his usual share. Maybe it’s the jetlag. Maybe it’s merely Vincent’s unusual presence—the strangeness of having him so close, in an environment so intimate.

But when he allows himself to look, he sees—

Vincent, his eyes shut, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. From the window, the filtered light gleams unevenly across the crown of dark hair on his head. There’s almost no movement to him at all, aside from the even rise and fall of his shoulders.

And Yves knows what the feeling in his chest is. He’s regrettably, intimately familiar with it.

He just isn’t sure he likes what it means.

—

Vincent—despite falling asleep so quickly—is up before him. When Yves wakes, next, it’s to a hand to his forehead.

“Hey,” Vincent is saying, softly. “Yves. You have a visitor.”

Yves opens his eyes.

He’s feeling—a little better, remarkably. Still feverish, still a little unsteady, but leagues better as compared to yesterday. When he looks over, he sees—

He doesn’t jolt upright, but it’s a close thing. “Aimee!”

He barely has a chance to ask before she’s crashing into him, encircling him in a tight hug. “Yves!” she exclaims, pulling back from him. “How are you feeling? Oh my gosh, when I heard you left early because you were unwell, I was so worried…”

Yves grimaces, turning away. “Sorry, I had every idtention of staying until the end—”

“You came all the way out with the flu!” she says. “I honestly can’t believe you. The fact that you still took the trouble to attend with a fever—”

“It—” Yves starts, but he finds himself twisting away, lifting an arm to his face. “hhEH-! HEEhD’TTSCHH-iiiEEw! Snf-! It’s fide, snf-! I’mb practically recovered already.”

“I should’ve told you not to push yourself when you told me you were coming down with something,” Aimee says, shaking her head. “And you stayed and gave such a lovely speech, even though you weren’t feeling well? When I was talking to Victoire after, she mentioned that you’ve been sick for days and Genevieve—you should’ve said something.”

“I’ll say somethidg next time,” Yves says, a little sheepishly. “Did the wedding go okay?”

Aimee visibly brightens, at this. “It was more than okay,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “It blew every expectation that I had out of the water.”

Aimee fills him in on everything that happened after he left, last night—dessert, the first dance, the cake-cutting; her favorites out of the photos they’d taken after the ceremony (a shot of Genevieve braiding her hair during the cocktail hour; a shot of them leaning in close, for the dance, tired but smiling; a shot of the cake with its multiple tiers, the frosting strung like banners across it; another where both of them are holding onto the cutting knife together and Genevieve looks like she is trying not to laugh; a shot of the bouquet toss, the flowers suspended in mid-air). She tells him about the conversations she and Genevieve had with others about marriage and their futures and their plans for their honeymoon.

Then she lectures him on how he should worry about his health first, next time. She tells him, in no uncertain terms, that she’s fully prepared to give him a piece of her mind the next time he tries to pull something like this. She insists that his health is more important than anything. Vincent stands off to the side the entire time, his arms crossed, passively listening in, but when Yves looks over helplessly, mid-lecture, he definitely looks a little smug.

All in all, she doesn’t seem disappointed in him at all. And, more importantly, she seems happy. Yves finds himself relieved, at this.

Genevieve stops by, too, a little later, to thank him for the advice he’d given her the day before the wedding. She hugs him too, and she leaves him a bag of tea that she promises “is practically a cure to anything—I hope it makes your flight home tomorrow a little more tolerable.” Victoire stops by, with Leon, and Yves resigns himself to more lecturing from the both of them. It’s humbling, a little, to be lectured by his younger sister and his younger brother, though he concedes that perhaps this time, it might be at least partially warranted.

Then Leon opens their hotel fridge to show him the two creme brulees he and Vincent had missed out on, packaged nicely in small paper containers. (“Vincent told me you were interested in these,” he says, and Yves finds himself slightly mortified—but perhaps also a little endeared—that whatever it was that he’d said last night, offhandedly, Vincent had deemed it important enough to text Leon about.)

Later, after Yves showers and gets changed—when he and Vincent eat the creme brulees at the table in the living room, and Vincent tells him that he’s finished the book, perhaps a little masochistically (“it doesn’t get any better,” he says, sounding a little spiteful)—Yves finds himself smiling.

He’s happy, he realizes, despite everything that’s happened. Even with the slight headache, and the lingering congestion, the fever that hasn’t quite gone away entirely. The revelation comes as a surprise to him, at first. But when he thinks about the people he’s surrounded with, he thinks perhaps it isn’t all that surprising.

—

EPILOGUE

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vincent asks.

“Yes,” Yves says. It’s not a lie.

This time, he’s seated right next to the window, and Vincent is in the middle seat. Yves had offered to take the middle seat instead, but Vincent had insisted(“If you wanted to sleep, you could lean against the window,” he’d said, and Yves had accepted only because it would be better to fall asleep against the window than do something embarrassing, like fall asleep on Vincent’s shoulder).

“It’s just the annoyidg residual symptoms, now,” he says. “I—”

God. He always has the worst timing. He veers away, muffling a tightly contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“hHEH-’IIDDZschH-yyEW! Snf-! I’mb — hHhEHh’DjjsSHH-iEW! Ugh, I’m fine. I feel better thad I sound.”

“Bless you,” Vincent says, leaning over to press his hand against Yves’s forehead. “No fever,” he says. “That’s good. But you should take another day off when we get back.”

Yves doesn’t think taking another day off is necessary. “I spedt the entirety of yesterday sleeping,” he says. “I think I’ve rested enough.”

Vincent just raises an eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you that someone very wise told you to take it easy?”

“Since when has Aimee been your spokesperson?”

“She made a lot of good points,” Vincent says, deceptively unassuming. “I think you should consider taking notes.”

Yves looks at him for a moment. “You’re laughing at me.”

This time, Vincent smiles. “Maybe.”

Yves leans back in his seat, reaching up with one hand to massage his temples. The changing cabin pressure is not exactly comfortable—his head still hurts a little, but he’s flown enough times to know that it won’t be as much of a problem once they finish their ascent.

“Thadks again for coming,” he says, unwrapping one of the small, packaged pillows the airline has left on their seats.

“You invited me,” Vincent says, blinking. “All I did was show up.”

But that isn’t true at all, Yves thinks. Vincent is the one who spent time learning basic French, who met Yves’s family and who spoke with everyone with genuine interest, who bought Yves medicine and water, all while being careful to not be overbearing. Vincent is the one who left the wedding early to walk Yves back to the hotel, who stayed with him the entire day afterwards.

“That’s such a huge understatement I don’t even kdow where to get started,” Yves says. “Thanks for meetidg my family—they love you, by the way. They’re going to be askidg about you every summer from now on, I just know it.”

He can already picture it—June, this year, after busy season is over, if their fake relationship lasts that long. Another flight where they’re next to each other. Another dozen conversations about how they’d met, about what it’s like dating a coworker, about what their plans for the future are.

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. This was never meant to be a long-term arrangement in the first place. But something about this—about being here with Vincent—just feels so unthinkingly easy.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says. “The feeling is mutual. I’m glad I got to meet them.”

“Thanks for looking after me, too,” Yves says, with another apologetic smile. “I’mb sure being stuck in a hotel room all day wasn’t how you were planning on spending your last day of vacation.”

“I don’t mind,” Vincent says, sounding strangely like he means it. “I like spending time with you.”

Yves nearly drops the pillow he’s holding.

When he looks back at Vincent, Vincent looks faintly amused. “Is that so surprising? I think I’d be a terrible fake boyfriend if I didn’t.”

“You make a really good one, as it stands,” Yves tells him, sincerely, and Vincent smiles.

Yves looks out the window—where the city beneath them begins to resolve itself into miniature, where the sky stretches where he can see Vincent reflected faintly back at him, from the glass—and finds that he feels impossibly light.

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #when i set off to write a slow burn h/c fic i don't think i expected it to be 28k words #this was a journey for me... thank you sincerely to everyone who's joined me for the ride 😭#i am not sure if this specific chapter feels rushed? or if it's too short? (if it does i'm very sorry 🙇‍♀️)#some thoughts... (spoilers ahead; pls read the chapter before proceeding)#1) this installment in particular is something of a turning point in their relationship development (and i hope that's not too subtle)#2) vincent not being like a traditionally 'soft' caretaker and having his frustration show a little more openly is something i've had in my #head for awhile :') it was fun to let that crystallize this chapter #yvverse #my fic

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wintaerbaer · 10 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,�� you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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lightwise · 1 month

Text

Hey guys. I know I’ve been relatively quiet on here since the finale, and I wanted to let you all know I haven’t just liked all your posts but not reblogged for the sake of lurking 😅. I had an insanely chaotic week in my personal life/schedule and the finale hit me hard, in some ways that I wasn’t expecting, so I’ve been processing a lot behind the scenes and trying to play catch-up.

I know there’s a lot of opinions, a lot of hurt feelings, and a lot of processing going around, no matter what your opinions about the finale itself. And even if it had satisfied every one of us, it still is hard to say goodbye to our Bad Batch in canon media. I’ve been crying every time I see shots from those last few scenes and the epilogue 😭❤️

I’ll be sharing everyone’s thoughts and my own as I have the bandwidth this week/ongoing. I have a lot of things I want to address:

- How Tech was handled

- Project Necromancer and Omega’s m count

- the death trooper batch and what worked and didn’t work for me

- how Crosshair’s hand was handled

- my reaction to the finale, as well as the pros vs cons of how it was executed

- the pros and cons of the season overall

- potentially analyses on Hunter and Crosshair throughout their arcs

- some posts that I had been compiling before the finale that will now have a very different tone 😅🫣 (you’ll know what I mean when I get there)

- final update on my Crosshair Sighs count

- additional chapters of the Be There one-shots I started at the beginning of the season. I have Hunter and Crosshair’s perspectives, and I will add in Wrecker’s, Echo’s, and Omega’s.

- I still have an upcoming Hunter short fic and my long fic Compass Pointing North (Rex and Echo leading the clone rebellion) that will fill in all the gaps of the last two seasons and potentially more (I have so many ideas!)

In short, I’m still here, not going anywhere, just need some time to process and get my thoughts together. For those of you grieving or feeling let down, I see you and feel the same way about certain things. For those of you ecstatic and fulfilled about certain things, I see you and feel the same way as well.

And lastly—I’ve been seeing and hearing both behind the scenes and publicly making fun of, tearing down, or vehemently shaming people for their various reactions to this finale. I have to say I’m a bit disappointed at some of the backlash that has been happening between fans for holding differing opinions and emotions. If someone else has a different favorite character than you, a different perspective, a level of difficulty that you are not experiencing—do not shame them for that. Do not go on anon and harass them. Don’t try to tell people who are upset that they should just be happy and get over it. And don’t tell people who are really satisfied with what we got that they shouldn’t be expressing that or that they are inconsiderate for feeling that way.

In short, don’t let the end of this show tear apart all of the good and wonderful and fun moments that we’ve built together over these last three years. This fandom has been a special place and a very meaningful place for most of us, I believe, and those who are in this fandom do not deserve to be treated poorly simply for having their own perspectives. Be kind to each other. Please. I know you all are capable of it 🙏🏻✨❤️

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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kckt88 · 2 months

Text

The Lost Dragon - Epilogue

Summary:

Twelve Years Later.

Warning(s): Character Death, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6772

A.N - If anyone wishes to talk about the kids or any of the other characters feel free to message me :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

“-Queen Vaelys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-and her Consort King Aemond of House Targaryen”

In the grandeur of the throne room within the Red Keep, the air was filled with a sense of anticipation and solemnity. Vaelys stood tall and resolute, clad in regal attire befitting her coronation as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Beside her, Aemond stood, his presence a reassuring anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

As Vaelys stood in the throne room, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of memories from the past. In an instant, she was transported back to the day her mother, Queen Rhaenyra, had fallen ill.

She remembered the urgency in her father's summons, her mother was gravely ill and asking for her presence in King's Landing.

Vaelys had travelled to King's Landing with all the speed Vermithor could muster, her heart heavy with dread as she entered her mother's chambers. The Queen, once vibrant and strong, now lay deathly pale and frail upon her bed, her breaths shallow and laboured.

Rhaenyra's voice, once commanding and powerful, was now small and weak as she called out to her daughter. Vaelys rushed to her mother's side, her eyes filled with tears as she took in the sight of the woman who had been her guiding light throughout her life, now fading before her very eyes.

"Mother," Vaelys whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she grasped Rhaenyra's hand in her own. "I'm here, Mother. You're going to be alright."

But Rhaenyra shook her head weakly, a sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. "My sweet girl-I'm sorry-for all of it-tell him-tell Aemond-I’m sorry”.

“It’s ok mother” whispered Vaelys.

“T-There is s-something else you must know-I should have told you many years ago-you may not understand but you must hear it-“ gasped Rhaenyra.

“What is it mother?”

“Our histories-they tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for the capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest-It was a dream”.

“A dream?” questioned Vaelys.

“-Just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. It will begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant North. Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. Whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When this great winter comes, Vaelys-all of Westeros must stand against it- if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne”.

“I don’t-“ muttered Vaelys

“A King or Queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream. The Song of Ice and Fire. This secret-it’s been passed from King to heir since Aegon’s time. Now you must promise to carry it-and protect it. Promise me this, Vaelys-“

“Mother I-“ stuttered Vaelys

“-Put the dagger in flames and you’ll see. Promise me-p-promise m-me,” wheezed Rhaenyra.

“I promise mother-“ replied Vaelys as she squeezed her mother's hand tightly, her tears falling freely now as she whispered words of love and comfort into Rhaenyra's ear. In that moment, surrounded by the ones she loved most, Rhaenyra closed her eyes for the final time, her spirit slipping quietly away.

As Vaelys and Aemond stood side by side in the throne room, their coronation ceremony nearing its conclusion, they made a decision that would set them apart from the rulers of the past. Instead of wearing the crowns of kings and queens who had come before them, they chose to have new crowns crafted, symbols of their own reign and the values they held dear.

The new crowns, crafted from gleaming silver and adorned with intricate dragon designs that reflected the unity and strength of their rule, were placed upon their heads with great care.

As Vaelys turned towards the Iron Throne, she couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation wash over her. The weight of history hung heavy in the air, each step she took towards the throne echoing with the footsteps of rulers long past.

But as she reached the top of the steps, her gaze fell upon Aemond, standing steadfast and proud at the foot of the steps. His silver crown gleamed in the torchlight, a symbol of his unwavering support and encouragement.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Vaelys felt a surge of determination well up within her. With a silent nod from Aemond, a gesture of reassurance and confidence.

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys hesitated for just a moment, her hand hovering over the cold, unforgiving metal.

But then she remembered Aemond's nod, his unwavering belief in her abilities, and with a final glance back at him, she took her seat upon the throne. The weight of the crown upon her head felt heavy, but she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After a few moment of looking across the throne room, Vaelys looked to her brothers and sisters, who lowered themselves to one knee.

Cregan who was standing with his wife and sons also lowered himself to one knee.

The other Lords and Ladies in attendance also bowing in respect of their new Queen and her King Consort.

With a steady voice, Vaelys was ready to announce her first decree as Queen.

"I declare that my eldest daughter, Sovia, shall be named heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone"

The room fell silent, the gravity of Vaelys' words sinking in as the ruling lords of the Seven Kingdoms exchanged glances. But then, one by one, they once again lowered to one knee, their heads bowed in respect.

"We pledge our loyalty to Princess Sovia, heir to the Iron Throne" they intoned in unison, their voices ringing out with solemnity and solemnity.

And there, standing tall and resolute beside her father, Sovia accepted the homage of the realm, her expression one of determination and strength.

"In addition," she declared, her voice carrying authority, "I announce that my daughter, Princess Sovia, shall be betrothed to her brother Prince Daevyn, to further strengthen the bonds of our house and ensure the unity of the Seven Kingdoms."

The announcement was met with nods of agreement and murmurs of approval from the assembled lords and ladies. It was a strategic move, one that would solidify the ties between their family members and reinforce their position of power.

Sovia and Daevyn exchanged glances, their eyes meeting with a shared understanding and acceptance. Daevyn stepped forward, his expression one of determination and commitment, as he took Sovia's hand in his own.

"In furtherance of our commitment to unity and alliance," Vaelys announced, her voice ringing out with authority, "I declare that my son, Prince Aemon Targaryen, shall be betrothed to Lady Laena Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark and future Lady of the Tides."

A ripple of approval spread through the throne room as the assembled nobles acknowledged the strategic significance of the betrothal. The marriage would strengthen the ties between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, two powerful families whose union would bolster their position in the realm.

Jace nodded in agreement as Vaelys' words echoed through the hall, his expression one of pride and satisfaction. It was a match that would benefit both houses, securing their alliance for generations to come.

Vaelys' gaze shifted towards Aemond, her husband and King Consort, as he stepped forward with a solemn expression. The anticipation in the room grew palpable as he cleared his throat, preparing to make his announcement.

"In addition to the betrothals already declared," Aemond began, his voice commanding the attention of all present, "I am pleased to announce a final betrothal that will further strengthen the bonds between our houses."

He paused for a moment, allowing the significance of his words to sink in before continuing.

"Our daughter, Princess Rekara, shall be betrothed to Rickon Stark, the heir to Winterfell. However, as Rekara is but twelve years of age, the marriage will not take place until she comes of age at sixteen."

A murmur of approval rippled through the room as the lords and ladies of the realm acknowledged the importance of this alliance. The marriage between House Targaryen and House Stark would bring together two great houses of the North and the South, uniting the realm in peace and prosperity.

Cregan nodded his head in approval and acknowledgement, the betrothals that had been announced had of course been arranged in the days prior.

No marriages would take place until both were of age, Sovia and Daevyn’s wedding would wait the year as he was currently fifteen, and the others would occur in the coming years.

Vaelys watched with pride as Aemond made the announcement, her heart swelling with gratitude for the love and support he had shown their family. This betrothal was a testament to their commitment to securing the future of their house and ensuring the stability of the realm for generations to come.

As the room erupted into applause, Vaelys felt a sense of hope and optimism wash over her. With these betrothals, she knew that they were paving the way for a brighter future for the Seven Kingdoms, one built on unity, strength, and the bonds of family.

With a sense of purpose and determination, Vaelys began to name her new council members, each chosen for their skill, loyalty, and dedication to the realm.

"As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," she declared, her voice strong and unwavering, "I hereby name my brother, Jacaerys Velaryon, as Master of Ships. His knowledge of the seas and naval strategy will serve us well in the years to come."

Jace bowed his head in acknowledgment, a sense of pride evident in his expression as he accepted the appointment.

"Lord Thaddeus Rowan," Vaelys continued, "Shall serve as Master of Laws. His commitment to justice and fairness will ensure that our laws are upheld and enforced throughout the realm."

Thaddeus Rowan nodded solemnly, accepting the responsibility that had been placed upon him.

“Isembard Arryn” Vaelys went on, "Shall be named Master of Coin. His expertise in finance and economics will help to ensure the prosperity of the kingdom."

"Prince Daeron Targaryen," Vaelys announced, "Shall take up the mantle of Lord Commander of the Queen's Guard. His unwavering dedication to duty make him the ideal candidate for this important position."

Daeron bowed deeply, his expression one of solemn determination as he accepted the honour bestowed upon him.

Aemond smiled at the expression on his younger brothers face, it had been his suggestion that had secured Daeron’s position as Lord Commander.

"As for the City Watch," Vaelys continued, "I name my brothers, Aegon and Viserys Targaryen, as joint Commanders. Their experience under the tutelage of our father Daemon will ensure that King's Landing remains safe and secure."

Aegon and Viserys nodded in agreement, ready to take on the responsibility of protecting the capital city.

With her new council assembled, Vaelys felt a sense of pride and determination wash over her. Together, they would work tirelessly to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm, guiding the Seven Kingdoms into a new era of peace and prosperity.

"Now," said Vaelys, her voice filled with warmth and joy, "Let us set aside our duties for a moment and enjoy the festivities. Tonight, we celebrate not only the strength and unity of our realm, but also the bonds of friendship and kinship that bind us together."

The room erupted into applause and cheers as the guests rose from their seats, eager to partake in the feast and revelry that awaited them. Musicians struck up a lively tune, filling the air with music and laughter as servants began to circulate with trays of food and drink.

Vaelys looked out over the gathered crowd, her heart filled with gratitude for the support and loyalty of those gathered before her. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, she knew that as long as they stood united, there was nothing they could not accomplish.

With a smile, she raised her goblet in a toast to the future, to prosperity and peace, and to the bonds of friendship and family that would carry them through whatever trials may come.

"Enjoy the feast, my friends," she declared, her voice ringing out with warmth and sincerity. "Tonight, we celebrate the dawn of a new era for the Seven Kingdoms!"

As the festivities carried on, Aemond approached Vaelys with a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Vaelys," he began gently, "I couldn't help but notice that you didn't name your Hand of the Queen during the council announcements. Is everything alright?"

Vaelys sighed softly, her gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to meet Aemond's eyes.

"I-I have struggled with the decision," she admitted quietly. "I know how crucial the role of Hand is, and I didn't want to risk appointing someone whose ambition or ideas could potentially bring our house to ruin."

Aemond nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He knew exactly what she was referring to — the legacy of his grandfather, Otto, whose actions had ultimately led to chaos and tragedy for House Targaryen.

"I understand," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "It's a difficult decision to make, especially considering what happened. But we'll find the right person for the role, someone loyal and wise, who has the best interests of the realm at heart."

“-I did have someone in mind-“ said Vaelys her gaze drifting towards Alysanne Blackwood, Cregan's second wife, who stood across the hall. Aemond followed her gaze, his expression thoughtful as he considered her choice.

"Alysanne," he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly. "She's a capable woman, to be sure. But are you certain she's the right choice?"

Vaelys nodded, her confidence unwavering. "She was one of my mother’s allies. She's proven herself to be loyal, shrewd, and dedicated to the good of the realm. And given her marriage to Cregan, it would further ally us with the North”.

Aemond considered her words for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of appointing Alysanne as Hand of the Queen. Despite his past differences with Cregan, he couldn't deny the potential benefits of such an alliance, sitting alongside the betrothal of his youngest daughter to Starks heir.

"I trust your judgment, Vaelys," he said finally, his tone firm. "If you believe Alysanne is the right choice, then I'll support your decision. Together, we'll ensure that she has the resources and support she needs to succeed in her new role."

Vaelys smiled gratefully at Aemond's agreement, relieved to have his support in this important decision.

"Thank you, Aemond," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

“Do you wish to make the announcement now?” asked Aemond.

“I believe I shall leave that honour to Issa dārys” whispered Vaelys (My King).

“ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond, hearing Vaelys call him that in their mother tongue made his blood run hot.

“Nyke gīmigon skoriot aōha mind emagon issare issa zaldrīzes, ao seek naejot fuck nykeā dāria bē zȳhon dēmalion-“ muttered Vaelys (I know where your mind has been my dragon, you seek to fuck a Queen upon her throne).

“Issa jorrāelagon-“ exclaimed Aemond (My Love).

“Be a good boy and make the announcement and I promise tonight I shall worship you like the King you are” whispered Vaelys as she leaned in and placed a kiss on Aemonds cheek.

Aemond nodded quickly, as he stood up from his seat beside Vaelys. The hall fell silent as all eyes turned to him, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice strong and commanding, "I have an additional announcement to make on behalf of our queen."

A ripple of curiosity swept through the room as Aemond paused for effect, his gaze sweeping over the assembled nobles before settling on Alysanne Blackwood, who stood with a look of anticipation on her face.

"It is my honour to declare that we have chosen a new Hand of the Queen," Aemond continued, his voice ringing out with authority. "In recognition of her wisdom, loyalty, and dedication to the realm, Alysanne Blackwood has been appointed to this esteemed position."

A murmur of approval filled the hall as the assembled nobles reacted to the announcement, some nodding in agreement while others exchanged knowing glances. Alysanne's expression was one of gratitude and determination as she stepped forward to accept the honour bestowed upon her.

"As Hand of the Queen," Aemond concluded, his voice filled with confidence, "Alysanne will serve as a trusted advisor to our queen, working tirelessly to ensure the prosperity and stability of the realm. Please join me in congratulating her on this well-deserved appointment."

With a round of applause, the hall erupted into celebration, the tension of the moment dissipating as the guests cheered and toasted to Alysanne's success.

Vaelys approached her father Daemon's chambers with a heavy heart, knowing that he had chosen to remain secluded in his grief. She paused outside the door, taking a moment to collect herself before gently knocking.

"Father," she called softly, her voice carrying a note of concern. "It's Vaelys. May I come in?"

There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, revealing Daemon's weathered face, his once fierce eyes now dulled with age and sorrow. He nodded wordlessly, stepping aside to allow Vaelys to enter.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the weight of Daemon's grief. Vaelys took a hesitant step forward, her heart aching at the sight of her father in such pain.

"I-I wanted to see how you were doing," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know these past few days have been difficult for you."

Daemon offered her a weak smile, his gaze distant as he spoke. "Thank you, my dear. It's been hard, losing your mother... She was everything to me."

Vaelys moved closer, her heart breaking at the sight of her father's anguish. She reached out to take his hand, offering what little comfort she could.

"I miss her too, Father," she admitted quietly. "But she would want us to carry on, to honour her memory and continue to serve the realm."

Daemon nodded, his grip tightening around Vaelys' hand. "You're right”

As Vaelys sat with her father Daemon, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of all the recent changes in their lives. Yet, she knew it was important to keep him informed of the decisions she had made for the realm and their family.

"Father," she began gently, "I wanted to speak to you about some matters concerning the kingdom and our family."

Daemon looked up, his weary eyes meeting hers with a sense of resignation. "Of course, What is it that troubles you?"

Taking a deep breath, Vaelys proceeded to inform him of the betrothals she had arranged for their children, as well as the members of her new council. She spoke of Sovia's betrothal to Daevyn, Aemon's betrothal to Laena, and Rekara's future marriage to Rickon Stark. She also detailed the appointments of Jace as Master of Ships, Lord Thaddeus Rowan as Master of Laws, and Isembard Arryn Master of Coin.

Daemon listened attentively as Vaelys spoke, his expression thoughtful as he considered her choices. When she had finished, he nodded approvingly, a hint of pride in his weary eyes.

"These are wise decisions, my dear," he said softly. "You have chosen well, both for the realm and for our family. I am proud of you."

Vaelys felt a swell of gratitude at her father's words, knowing that his approval meant a great deal to her.

“What of Aegon and Viserys?” asked Daemon.

"Aegon and Viserys have been appointed as joint commanders of the City Watch," she explained, her voice steady. "I believe their leadership and dedication will serve the realm well in this role."

Daemon's eyes softened with approval, a hint of pride shining through his weary demeanour. "A wise choice," he remarked. "They have always shown promise, and I have no doubt they will excel in their new responsibilities."

Vaelys nodded, grateful for her father's support. She knew that his approval meant a great deal, and she was relieved to see him taking an interest in the affairs of the realm despite his grief.

"And what of the Hand of the Queen?" Daemon inquired; his curiosity piqued. "Have you found someone suitable for the position?"

Vaelys hesitated for a moment before replying, knowing that her choice might surprise him. "Yes, Father," she said. "I have appointed Alysanne Blackwood as Hand of the Queen."

Daemon's brows furrowed in thought, but after a moment, he nodded in approval. "Alysanne Blackwood," he repeated. "An excellent choice. She is a woman of intelligence and integrity, and I have no doubt she will serve you well."

Relief washed over Vaelys as she watched her father's reaction, grateful that he approved of her decisions.

Daemon rose from his seat, his movements slow as he crossed the room.

"Vaelys," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "There is something I wish to give you."

Vaelys watched him with a mixture of surprise and apprehension, unsure of what her father was offering her. But as he reached for the sword at his side, she felt a sudden pang of unease.

"Father, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Daemon's hands trembled slightly as he drew the sword from its scabbard, revealing the gleaming blade of Valyrian steel. He held it out to her, the hilt offered in silent offering.

"Dark Sister," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Has been in our family for generations, passed down from one Targaryen to the next. And now, it belongs to you."

Vaelys recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in shock. "Father, I can't accept this," she protested.

But Daemon cut her off with a shake of his head, his gaze unwavering. "You must, Vaelys," he insisted. "Dark Sister belongs in the hands of a queen, and who better to wield it than you? You are strong, capable, worthy of its power. Take it, my dear, and let it be a symbol of the strength and courage that resides within you."

Vaelys hesitated for a moment, her heart torn between her desire to refuse the gift and her longing to honour her father's wishes. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the depth of his conviction, the fierce determination that burned within him.

With a trembling hand, she reached out and accepted the sword, feeling its weight settle into her grasp. She could sense the power that thrummed through its ancient steel, the legacy of those who had wielded it before her.

"Thank you, Father," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Daemon offered her a sad smile, his eyes shining with pride. "You are worthy of it, Vaelys," he said softly. "May it serve you well”.

As Vaelys entered her chambers, she found Aemond waiting for her, his eyes alight with curiosity. His gaze flickered to the sword in her hand, a question forming on his lips, but before he could speak, Vaelys pre-empted him.

"My father gave me Dark Sister," she explained, her voice tinged with emotion.

Aemond's expression softened as he took in her words, understanding the significance of the gift. He reached out to her, his hand brushing against her cheek in a gesture of comfort.

"It's a great honour, Vaelys," he said softly.

Vaelys nodded, a sense of gratitude flooding through her. She had never felt more connected to her father than she did in that moment, his faith in her abilities serving as a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded them.

"I will wield it with pride," she vowed, her voice steady. "And I will honour the legacy of those who came before me."

Aemond smiled, a warmth spreading through his features. "I have no doubt that you will," he said, his eyes shining with pride. "You are a true Queen, Vaelys, in every sense of the word."

“Speaking of honours-I have a gift for you” said Vaelys as she placed Dark Sister on the desk.

As Vaelys carefully opened the long box placed at the end of their bed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation coursing through her veins. Inside lay Blackfyre, the legendary sword of House Targaryen, a symbol of power and prestige that had been passed down through generations.

She looked up at Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest, as she presented the sword to him. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice filled with reverence, "This belongs to you."

Aemond's eyes widened in astonishment as he beheld the gleaming blade before him. He reached out tentatively, as if afraid to touch it, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the steel.

"Vaelys, I-I cannot accept this," he stammered, his voice choked with emotion, remembering his father and Aegon once laying claim to this sword.

Vaelys shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes. "As Dark Sister rests in the hands of a Queen," she declared, "Blackfyre shall rest in the hands of a King. You are my equal, Aemond, my partner in every sense of the word. It is only fitting that you should wield such a weapon."

Aemond was speechless, his gaze locked with hers as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of her gesture. He had never expected such a gift, never imagined that he would hold the legendary sword of House Targaryen in his hands.

But as he looked into Vaelys' eyes, he saw the depth of her conviction, the unwavering belief she held in him. And in that moment, he knew that he could do no less than accept her offering, to honour her trust and her love.

With a sense of reverence, he grasped the hilt of Blackfyre, feeling its weight settle into his hand. It felt like destiny, like the culmination of a journey that had brought them to this moment.

"Thank you, Vaelys," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. "I will wield it with honour, and with pride, for as long as I draw breath."

Vaelys smiled coyly at Aemond, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now that we're alone, Issa dārys" she said, her voice a soft whisper that sent shivers down his spine, "I do believe I have a promise to keep."

Aemond's heart quickened at the suggestive tone in her voice, his pulse pounding in his ears as he realized what she meant. He felt a surge of desire coursing through him, igniting a fire that burned hot and fierce.

Aemond slowly moved his hands down his wife’s body before roughly grasping her ass and hauling her up against the door.

Vaelys whimpers, gripping at Aemond’s shoulders as he slots himself between her legs, his tongue still invading her mouth.

Aemond presses himself against the apex of Vaelys’ thighs, and he growls like an animal when she reaches down and palms his hard cock over his breeches.

“Fuck-“ groans Aemond as he begins grinding his clothed cock against her.

“Someone’s eager” whispered Vaelys as she flicked her tongue against the corner of Aemond’s mouth.

“Oh, you have no idea” quipped Aemond as she spun her off the door and carried her to the bed.

Soon their clothes are abandoned in a haphazard heap on the floor and Aemond was laid between Vaelys’ open legs moving his fingers through her dripping folds as he expertly devoured her with his mouth, his nose bumping against her pearl as fucked her with his tongue.

Gods, she tasted delicious.

Aemond loved feasting on his wife’s cunny, he could spend the rest of his days between her thighs.

“Fuck,” squeaks Vaelys as she grasps at the back of Aemond’s head, her fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place.

“Are you going to come already?” asked Aemond smugly.

Aemond alternates between using his fingers and tongue to bring Vaelys to her peak.

Vaelys arches her back as she comes, Aemond gently sucks on her pearl as she rides out the euphoria of her peak.

“Is that you done baby, or do you want more?” asked Aemond playfully, his chin shining with her slick.

“M-More, please” gasps Vaelys as Aemond reaches forward and presses a singular kiss to her pearl before he quickly wipes his chin with his hand.

Aemond smirks as he removes his small clothes , his hard cock slapping up against his abdomen, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

“Kostilus issa dārys” (Please my King).

Aemond takes himself in his hand and guides his hard cock to Vaelys’ entrance, pushing in slowly, teasing her.

His wife writhes against him, her eyes lost in a haze of desire.

“Ivestragon issa ao jorrāelagon issa” muttered Aemond (Tell me you love me).

“Avy jorrāelan, nyke jorrāelagon sīr olvie issa valzȳrys” gasped Vaelys (I love you; I love you so much my husband).

Aemond lets out a pleased grunt and slams into Vaelys hard, smiling as she lets out a yelp of surprise.

The pace he sets is brutal, his hips slapping against hers.

Vaelys moans desperately, as she moves her hips to meet his, attempting to allow his cock to reach deeper within her.

Aemond gets the hint, and quickly lifts Vaelys’ legs over his shoulders, using the new angle to drive his cock even deeper than before.

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes” exclaimed Vaelys.

Vaelys’ praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her, the wooden headboard banging against the wall from the force of his movements.

“Aemond, please, I’m close”.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs Vaelys’ pearl in quick circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“Gods this sweet cunny–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Vaelys comes with a loud, scream, her body shaking underneath Aemond’s as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“J-Just a little longer-fuck”

Then with a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, leaning over his wife, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moves Vaelys’ legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes.

“I-I wasn’t too rough, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. I-It was wonderful” exclaimed Vaelys, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, and flops onto the mattress.

After a few minutes, Aemond takes Vaelys into his arms and runs his nose up and down her cheek, she giggles when his breath tickles her skin.

Vaelys then moved away from him and rose from their bed. With a tender smile, she reached out, and lifted Aemond's crown from where it rested on the bedside table, its silver gleaming in the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window.

As she held the crown, Vaelys felt a swell of pride and admiration for her husband, for the man who stood by her side, her confidant, and her partner in all things. She traced her fingers along the intricate patterns adorning the crown, marvelling at its craftsmanship and the power it represented.

“Are you ready?” asked Vaelys as she placed Aemond’s crown upon his head.

“For what-“ mused Aemond curiously.

“I promised to worship you-as the King you are. That my dear husband was just the warmup” replied Vaelys as she climbed onto the bed and descended under the covers.

“Y-You don’t have to” muttered Aemond weakly.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Vaelys, her soft fingers running along Aemond’s muscled thigh.

“Vaelys what are you-oh” gasped Aemond as he felt his wife’s tongue gentle lick the tip of his cock.

“I can always stop?”

“N-No keep going” exclaimed Aemond as his wife’s hot wet mouth engulfed his half hard cock.

“When I make a promise, I fully intend on sticking to it. Do you understand?”

“Yes-I understand fully, please Vaeryna do not tease me” moaned Aemond.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem very convincing”.

“I promise-I will remember, just please-oh fuck” huffed Aemond as Vaeryna took his cock into her mouth once again.

Vaelys smirked deviously as she continued to tease her husband, she was determined to make him beg and plead for her mercy and only when he was on the brink would she grant it.

The night was still young, and she would have her husband as many times as he was able to rouse himself.

Aemond sat at the breakfast table, exhaustion evident in the lines etched upon his face and the heavy droop of his eyelid. Beside him, their children Sovia, Daevyn, Aemon, and Rekara chatted animatedly, their youthful energy a stark contrast to their father's weariness.

Across the table, Helaena, and her children Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor joined them, along with Daeron. Aemond tried to muster a smile as they exchanged pleasantries, but his mind was still heavy with the weight of the night before.

Sovia, ever perceptive, noticed her father's fatigued state and furrowed her brow in concern. "Father, why do you look so tired?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Aemond rubbed a hand over his weary eye, a tired chuckle escaping his lips. "Just had a long night, my dear," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Beside him, Vaelys couldn't help but stifle a snigger into her drink, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she exchanged a knowing glance with her husband. She knew all too well the cause of his fatigue, and the memory of their very passionate night together brought a playful glint to her eye.

Aemond shot her a mock glare, but there was a hint of amusement in his tired eyes. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his mischievous wife, whose laughter never failed to brighten even the darkest of days.

Maelor stood up from his seat at the breakfast table, his young face filled with determination as he addressed his family. "Your Graces-" he began, his voice steady despite the hint of nervousness in his eyes, "-I would like to join the Queens guard”,

Aemond and Vaelys exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them as they considered the young boy's plea. Beside them, Helaena watched with a warm smile, her eyes filled with pride and affection for her son.

After a moment of contemplation, Aemond spoke, his voice steady and firm. "Maelor," he said, addressing the boy directly, "Joining the Queen's Guard is a serious commitment, one that requires courage and a lot of discipline, you know that I have insisted on training them myself-I am not one for favouritism.”

“I understand Uncle-I mean Your Grace. But I would like to try. I wish to serve you and my Queen a-and the realm”.

Vaelys smiled, her expression thoughtful yet supportive. "If this is truly what you desire, if you are willing to dedicate yourself to the service of the crown and the protection of the realm, then we will accept your request," she added, her voice gentle but resolute.

Maelor's face lit up with excitement and gratitude, his eyes shining with determination. "Thank you, Your Graces," he said earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. "I promise to serve with honour and distinction, to uphold the values of the Queen's Guard with every fibre of my being."

Aemond and Vaelys exchanged another glance, a silent affirmation passing between them. They knew that Maelor's journey would not be easy, but they also knew that he possessed the courage and determination to succeed.

With a nod of approval, Aemond reached out to clasp Maelor's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Welcome to the Queen's Guard, Maelor," he said, his voice filled with pride. "May you serve with honour and valour, and may you always uphold the legacy of those who came before you and training begins on the morrow-I suggest you rest well”.

“Might I suggest you do the same Your Grace-and possibly abstain from such prolonged physical activities the night before” quipped Daeron smirking.

“I had a duty to my Queen-“

“-And we all know how seriously father takes his duties,” laughed Daevyn, his long silver hair swaying back and forth.

“Boy-you’re not too old for a good thrashing” snarked Aemond.

“You wouldn’t dare” quipped Daevyn.

“Oooo Father has that mad look in his eye,” laughed Aemon.

“Daevyn needs to start running” giggled Rekara dreamily.

“-I-What? Asked Daevyn as Aemond rose from the table.

“You heard your sister-you best start running boy” said Aemond.

“M-Mother” exclaimed Daevyn.

“Brought it on yourself son” replied Vaelys smiling.

“You must really want to be thrashed-you don’t seem to be moving very fast” mocked Aemond as he manoeuvred himself away from the table.

“Oh-fuck” gasped Daevyn as he turned on is heel and legged it out of the dining room.

“How long do you think it will be before he realises that I’m not chasing him?” asked Aemond as he sat back down and reached for a drink.

“He’ll probably spend the rest of the day hiding from you now” said Vaelys.

“Father-can we go flying today?” asked Aemon.

“Of course-let’s finish breakfast and we’ll go”.

“Maelach will be pleased-he’s been a little restless since we moved here” muttered Aemon.

“The pit takes some adjusting, he’ll be fine once he gets used to it, but how about we make time in your duties so that you can fly with him every day?” suggested Aemond.

“I would like that very much thank you father” exclaimed Aemon brightly.

“Kara-will you be joining us with Nova?”

“Yes please” giggled Rekara.

“Make sure you change into your riding gear first byka rūklon” said Aemond (Little flower).

“I will-“ replied Rekara softly as she looked towards Ceci who smiled and took her hand.

“I shall ensure the little Princess is properly changed Your Grace”.

“Thank you, Ceci,” replied Aemond.

“Can we come?” asked Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in enthusiastic unison.

“Of course the more the merrier” said Aemond brightly.

“Shall you be joining your father?” asked Vaelys as she looked over at Sovia.

“I was going to find Daevyn actually-we agreed to read to one another under the weirwood tree”.

“Hmmm” muttered Aemond, casting a curious glance at Vaelys who smiled.

“Just make sure to have your guard with you-“ warned Vaelys.

“I will mother-“ said Sovia as she rose from the table and left the room.

“-And no, you won’t manage to sneak off because Daeron will be there as well” said Aemond his loud voice carrying down the hallway.

Vaelys and Helaena stood side by side on the balcony, their eyes turned upwards to the vast expanse of sky stretched out before them. The crisp morning air stirred around them, carrying with it the distant sound of wings beating against the wind.

Above, the majestic forms of dragons soared gracefully through the clouds, their powerful wings slicing through the air. Vhagar, the oldest and largest of them all, led the way, her scales gleaming in the sunlight as she flew with regal authority.

Beside her, Maelach, Nova, Morghul, and Shrykos followed in her wake, their forms a symphony of movement and grace as they danced through the sky.

Vaelys and Helaena watched silently as the dragons disappeared into the distance, their silhouettes fading against the backdrop of the morning sky.

Helaena took Vaelys’ hand and squeezed it gently.

The Dance of Dragons had almost destroyed the Targaryen dynasty, but now they would flourish and live on for generations. A Targaryen was seated upon on the Iron Throne as they were always meant to be, and the dragons would rule the skies for generations to come.

A great dynasty would be born from the blood of Vaelys and Aemond.

No lion or stag would oppose them.

“-And from their blood, will come the Princess who was promised” whispered Helaena.

“Everything ok?” asked Vaelys cocking her head to the side.

“It will be” replied Helaena softly, she leaned her head on her good sister’s shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment and for the briefest of seconds, she saw her again.

A beautiful silver haired dragon, the silver crown of her great grandmother many times over upon her head as she sat the Iron Throne.

‘All hail her Grace-Queen Daenerys Targaryen’

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd smut

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months

Text

Fic Finder

Feb 15th

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1. Hi! This is for fic finder. Its similar to "wide enough and wild" by impossibletruths. The difference is, in the fic that i want to find again is WWX is a sect leader of wen remnant. There are a fight between the wen remnant because of land and WWX has to resolbe it as sect leader. WWX and LWJ adopt Wen Yuan formally like they ask granny wen for permission to adopt Wen Yuan and there are some ceremony to solidify the adoption. LWJ get drunk and stole a goat (?). It involve a goat but i dont remember if it was LWJ or JWY who stole a goat. WQ has a student. Close to the end of story, WQ goes to Yunmeng with JWY and the title of sect healer goes to WQ's student. I think thats all i can remember. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

NOT FOUND stay, fury, your wrist wrapped in silk by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 228k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJi loses his golden core, yiling wei sect, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Temporary Character Death, War Crimes, Wen Remnant, Wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Revenge, LWJ goes dark for a while, WWX has a hard time with the bad shit going on around him, JGS is a bastard, Protracted Sunshot Campaign, War is war and hell is hell and of the two war is a lot worse, temporary impotence, growing intimacy, LWJ and WWX and the Wen Remnant live in the Burial Mounds together, WWX travels with LWJ and stays at his side post-Sunshot, Spanish Translation)

FOUND! sounds like the epilogue chapter of A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending)… but that's a really short piece of that particular fic to remember so I have doubts ^^; the goat part sounds like way earlier tho, when they get a goat, if I remember well.

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2. hello! I’m looking for a modern wangxian fic where wwx and lwj are high school (?) lovers but then lan qiren (who is also the director of the school I think) finds out about their relationship and sends lwj to the Lan school London. And then there’s a time skip and lwj ends up working at the school and the school system gets hacked so they engage the tech company that wwx started to fix the problem. And then they get back together - please help me!

FOUND? Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing) / Hello! I'm fairly certain that #2 on the most recent fic finder is in fact Tempo Rubato. I just finished doing a reread of that one and the details provided all line up :)

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3. hello! i hope u guys can help me find this fic. wwx and lwj are camboys then one day, wwx watched lwj for the first time just before his stream. (i think lwj is the no. 1 in that site) lwj watched his stream, wwx gave him his address and lwj went to his house. i know that its in my bookmark but i cant really find it. thank you in advamce!

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4. hi there are some fics that are continuously bouncing around in my head so some help in finding them would be very much appreciated and if my memory serves me correct all these stories were one shots

A) all I remember is that WY was a phoenix captured by the wens and LZ meets him during his capture and falls in love around this time, also not very sure if WY had healing powers or his tears turned to peals because he heals LZ and that LZ tells him to cry just because WY feels like crying

B) the story starts of with WY and LZ on a date arranged by all of their friends and other memories of it include NHS telling WY that LZ had made a separate group without him to warn them from ever repeating what they did WY also went out with LQY in (idk) high school and with WQ but they broke up because WQ had to focus on med school and didn't want to do Long distance and that WY seems to know that LZ is in love with him and LZ cries after telling WY that he's happy being his friend along with ending on the note where WY and LZ confirm that they are officially friends to every one else

C) this one revolves around WY being a sacrifice and LZ is guardian till his death but they fall in love I think WY was to be sacrificed on his 20 some birthday also the way the sacrifice was interpreted wrongly by the sects and in it WY and LZ also sleep together before WY is ultimately sacrificed but it was a happy ending that's all I remember I apologize if the descriptions are too vague but I read them a good while back and thank you so much for your help

4A)

FOUND! a thousand hills, no birds in flight | 千山鳥飛絕 by defractum (nyargles) (E, 26k, WangXian, Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon adjacent setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

NOT FOUND! Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake (M, 110k, wangxian, angst, fluff, captivity, creepy WRH, no non-con, dreamsharing, politics, people making the best decisions they can, epic length, mythical creature WWX, canon-typical violence, dark, happy ending)

4B)

FOUND! yeah theyre just bros thanks for asking by victortor (T, 10k, WangXian, Intimacy, Modern AU, Aromantic Character, Established Relationship, Communication)

4C)

FOUND! The Sacrifice's Last Guard by 0_Heta_0 (E, 24k, WangXian, Falling In Love, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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5. hi there! for the next fic finder — im pretty... sure... this is a jiang yanli-centric fic? but a lot of the POV was also madame yu. i remember that cangse sanren survived (this is not time charm). cssr, madame yu, and,, another woman who i forgot (possibly lwj's mother?) get into a relationship, and they raise the children together. im pretty sure jfm also dies alongside wcz (unless im mixing up two fics). either way, theres a scene where someone sneaks in the wives rm n mdme yu kicks their ass // (i'm the yzy/cssr/madame lan anon) i know for *sure* now that im mixing up two fics, but same ot3. it's not sami's sail away sweet sister. the character pov was yzy annd she was a lot more unsure about the whole thing bc she was painfully aware what she's like.

For the most recent fic finder #5 is absolutely Sail Away Sweet Sister. It's in Chapter 3, 2/3 of the way through. It may be conflated with another one, though, as that particular section is in Madame Lan POV (her name is Tang Lijuan). Sami tells stories in multi-POV though, so there are other sections from Yu Ziyuan's POV relating the incident.

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6. Okay so, looking for a fic where lwj or wwx accidentally summon incubus/succubus wwx or lwj. (I can't remember who was the sex demon or who was the human but it is a wangxian fic)

So, the succubus needs food and it is, unsurprisingly, cum. As in they have to literally eat cum to survive. So the human lets the demon feed from him. The human is followed by this succubus/incubus everywhere he goes to including his university.

The human loves feeding the sex demon and even lets him feed in the uni bathroom during breaks.

Does a fic like this exist? Does it ring any bell?

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7. Hi I'm looking for a fic in which Lan wangji and Lan Zichen got yin poisoning. And because Lan wangji in on the verge of death. Lan zichen decided to ask for Wei wuxian help on extracting yin energy but Lan Qiren prevented LAN zichen from fetching Wei wuxian because of his injury and decided the LAN Qiren himself will go and get Wei wuxian. And in this story Lan zichen and Jin gungyao will end up together jin gungyao was poisoned by his father. And wen Qing helps treat him thank you for the help @routel

FOUND? The Untamed: For the Love of Two Boys by YenGirl (Not rated, 181k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, 3zun, Yin Metal poisoning, wangxian wedding, XiYao wedding, 3Zun wedding, Single minded LWJ, Caring WWX, Supportive lxc, Supportive LQR, Prickly JC, Sweet JYL, Good JZX, Badass WQ, Cinnamon roll WN, adorable a-yuan, Supportive NMJ, Redeemed JGY, Evil JGS, Supportive Madam Jin, Annoying JZN, Evil XY, Rescued SS, Jealous SS, Useless Sect Leader Yao, Supportive Lan Healer OC, Accupuncture, Golden Core Reveal, Yunmeng sibs reconciliation, Implied mpreg jokes, stygian tiger seal, Burial Grounds fight, Meng Shi's grave, Jiang Sect Ancestral Hall, Lan Sect Ancestral Hall, wedding nights, minor OCs,nMingshi & Calming Bell)

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8. Hello I am looking for a fanfic where Wei Ying finds out that he still has family that’s alive on his fathers side. He travels with Lan Zhan and ayuan to meet them and finds out his father was from a rich merchant family but his father left them to become a cultivator. He meets his grandmother who has dementia and his family business ends up boycotting the Jins when they find out what they did to Weiying. I know I bookmarked this fanfic but I can’t seem to find it.

FOUND? Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 316k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ JYL, yunmeng sibling dynamics, good uncle LQR, sunshot campaign, PTSD, established relationship, angst w/ happy ending)

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9. Hi I really loved the fic A Myriad of Blossoms!! It's one of my favs now! Thank you so much for suggesting that fic.

Next I was looking for two fics :

A) Where Wei Wuxian after being expelled from CR is also "expelled" from YMJ and he works as a spy for Madam Yu and later when she dies the spy organisation is taken up by Nie Huaisang.

B) Where Lan Wangji asks Wei Wuxian to give up the Yin Tiger Tally and as a result WWX loses his new Yin core all over again and is severely hurt and LWJ regrets.

Thank you again!! @yilinglaobunny

9A)

FOUND! 🔒 Pendulum by ShippersList (M, 69k, wangxian, graphic depicitions of violence, rape/non-con, underage, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good JGY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

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10. Hi! I was hoping to have some help finding a specific fic? It was really long, a zombie apocalypse au? Where WWX gives birth to A-Yuan and LWJ is the father and then they get separated? And there's a big cruise ship? I remember the title was something like Nowhere Man? And it was finished! But I can't find it anywhere! Appreciate any help in finding this fic, thank you!!! @ariel-nolikeshakespeare

FOUND? For #10 could it be that its this fic? nowhere man - Red (zuwujun) At least if you search on google "nowhere man zombie ao3" thats the first result and it is a wangxian fic from the summary snippet visible from google. Sadly its currently hidden for a challenge

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11. Hi! I really appreciate the work you do. I'm looking for two fics: A) a deity!wwx au fic (not many tags beyond pairing, incomplete, hasnt been updated in a few years). Lwj meets night deity!wwx as a teen, befriends him, and during sunshot everyone thinks hes blessed by the sun god bc he has a branding iron he uses as a weapon. wwx turns himself mortal. B) The second is a cql post-canon fic: wwx sends lwj note hes in trouble from a night hunt. Family brings food to cave. Sex curse? Defeat Yao in lake. @classygreydove

11B)

FOUND? Fire in the Blood by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 20k, wangxian, First Time, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, hurt/comfort themes)

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12. Hi! I'm looking for these two fics:

A) WWX is the boss at some company and wants to keep LWJ from leaving because he's such a good employee so he offers him to double his salary or whatever he wants, LWJ says he won't leave if WWX offers himself. It's a modern AU.

B) During his stay in cloud recesses, WWX overhears two guys planning on cursing a woman with a toy connected to her, WWX stops them and changes the curse towards himself. The issue is that LWY confiscates the toy. That's what I remember.

Thanks!

12A)

FOUND? What's Wrong With Secretary Lan? by silverclaw (T, 5k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Modern, Inspired By What's Wrong With Secretary Kim? (TV), JZX and WWX are best friends, LWJ is "going through a rebellious phase")

12B)

FOUND? 🔒 The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones (E, 77k, WangXian, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Aged-Up Character(s), WWX POV, WWX is a gremlin, Internally Screaming LWJ, No Sunshot Campaign, First Times, Accidental Sex, Masturbation, PWP, Porn with Feelings, WWX experimenting with things he shouldn’t like always, Happy Ending, Porn With Plot)

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13. Hello— looking for a fic (au).

A) The Twin Jades go to Lotus Pier. Madam Yu makes WY stay out of the way (maybe even sleep outside?). LXC sees WY using talismans & is impressed. The next day he brings his brother & LWJ falls for WY:)

B) The twin jades are at Lotus Pier & MY makes WY sleep outside? But LWJ runs into him (and sees him using talisman:)

Thanks!!! @snowrose24

For number thirteen in the last item finder, I know that fic is an omega Wei Wuxian, but I can’t recall the title. Hope that helps? Definitely an alpha Lan Wangji.

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14. Hello, I am not sure how this works 😅. I think I am supposed to write my request here. I am trying to find a WangXian fic. It is a modern au. Lan enterprises is hacked and Nei Mingjue send Wei Ying to help them and by the end of day Lan Wangji and Wei Ying are set for a date. In this fic Wei Ying is a CEO of a big security company I think. Also they decided that Wei Ying will be an intern to catch the hacker. @veeru19

FOUND? Wangji's Beautiful Stranger by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 47k, wangxian, WIP, Modern, Soulmates, older LWJ, younger WWX, LWJ is So Whipped, Not Jiang Family Friendly, A-Yuan and Jingyi are best boys)

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15. Hi there! I'm looking for a fic that I sadly don't remember much about. The few things that stick in my mind are (1) Lan Wangji's father is alive, but they do not get along since his father left them, (2) Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a baby (can't remember if it's A-Yuan or an OC), and (3) there's some family event where Lan Qiren brings Lan Wangji's father and Lan Wangji (somewhat reluctantly) allows his father to feed the baby as a sign he's willing to try to start mending their relationship. Thanks for all the good work you do! @lucky-cat-13

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16. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much, unfortunately. What i remember is WWX send a letter to other clan. Like, there should be someone who married in to wen remnants right? So he send letter to those family to ask if they want to take their wen family back or not. I think LWJ help him too. That is all i can remember. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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17. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Lan Wangji is an emperor. Lan Xichen dies in the war against the Wen and none of the other clans provided support to the Lan. Wei Wuxian helps in the background, including saving the Dafan Wen. Lan Wangji demands Wei Wuxian as part of the treaty/alliance with with other clans post winning the war. Wei wuxian thinks he is a war prize/prisoner, but he is treated really well by the Gusu Lan for his efforts in the war.

It was WIP and I thought I had this bookmarked, but I lost it 😔

Thank you!!

FOUND! golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

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18. Hello again! Thanks as always for your help. Do you happen to remember that one fic where wwx has wildly overworked himself by taking in too many foster kids, and LWJ, his boyfriend, buys him a Fitbit to gently dom him into eating and sleeping enough? @balleyboley

I know number 18😭 I'll try to look for it. Wei ying wouldn't sleep or eat and didnt realize it, I hope someone finds it!

FOUND? underweight by sixstepsaway (E, 7k, WangXian, sex used as bribery lmao, Eating Disorders, Anxiety, full time dom!lwj, consensual control, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs)

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19. Hi, So i'm looking for two fics a) pretty sure his one is a one shot but it's basically during the sunshot campain and wwx is putting souls to rest when one of them wants something for him. The soul is all flirty and so on and after some time they find out it's nhs and nmj's father. b) also during the sunshot campain, nmj sees wwx being sickly and is like I'll take you under my wing, he feeds him just takes care of him @thatperson0-0

19A)

FOUND! Win Some, Lose Some by nirejseki (G, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Ghosts, Talkative Ghosts, Marriage Arrangements, NHS & LWJ friends agenda)

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20. hii. this is for ficfinder

I haven't read this but the summary of the fic was smth like wei wuxian disappears and I think sometime later lan wangji finds a man named mo xuanyu, I think it's a modern au, but I might be wrong!

thank you!!!

NOT FOUND! 🔒 Where You Fell by Sweet_William (E, 303k, wangxian, 3zun, JC/NHS, JYL/JZX, Modern, Angst, Mutual Pining, Homeless AU, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, accidental sugar daddy LWJ, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Esteem Issues, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Autistic Character, WWX Has ADHD, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex Work, Implied/Referenced Substance Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending)

NOT FOUND! vintage youth by sami (E, 13k, WangXian, Modern AU, references to past LWJ/others, references to past WWX/WQ, Family, Sexual Tension, set in the early 90s, Background Xicheng)

FOUND! don't leave me waiting, don't leave me here by sassybluee (M, 13k, WangXian, WangYu, Modern: No Powers, Missing Persons, Sex Work, Lawyer LWJ, Ambiguous Relationships, Hopeful Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, POV LWJ)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.3k

chapter summary: new dynamics, new outlooks. the story comes to an end.

warnings: cock worship, oral (male receiving), ass play, anal sex, spit as lube, dirty talking

a/n: this is the last chapter of this series but there will be an epilogue coming very very soon. thank you to everyone who joined me on this journey and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it xx

Railhead - The end of a railroad line where trains can be loaded and unloaded, often in a remote location.

You’re proud, to say the least. Looking back at the train, your chest swells with indescribable emotion. The outside might look rusty and dusty—something Javier was adamant about so no one would want to come take a closer look—but the inside was where your efforts truly shined. Through the windows, you catch a glimpse of the plants you potted in old cans you cut into two and one semi-intact clay pot. A fence surrounds the train, booby-trapped just in case someone lurks nearby.

Javier comes out and stands next to you, he’s chewing on a long-stemmed dandelion. His signature aviators nestled above his head.

“We fucking did it. An actual living place,” his shoulders raise slightly, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. “I can’t believe we actually did it without killing each other.”

You roll your eyes and come to stand in front of him. His eyes drop to your lips, then smoothly travel back up to meet your gaze. You smile playfully as you quickly pluck the dandelion from his lips, closing the distance, you slant your lips together. As always, he’s hungry. He cups your waist and pulls you flush against his body, slipping his tongue between your wanting lips. You groan loudly, your stomach doing somersaults as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Every part of you is humming with delight.

But then Javier suddenly parts, and you’re left aching.

“Hey—”

“I got a surprise for you.”

You blink before answering, “A surprise?”

“Si,” he chirps quickly, brown eyes shining. He holds your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the train. “Follow me, querida. I’m sure you’re going to appreciate it.”

“Hmmm we’ll see.” Javier sits you on the tattered couch and disappears into the makeshift bedroom—your shared bedroom. “How did you even manage to get me something?” you call out. “We literally go everywhere together.”

“I have my ways.” then he adds. “It’s handmade.”

Handmade?

He appears from the narrow threshold, he’s holding a small box, “Here,” he says, placing it on your lap. “Maybe you’ll complain less thanks to this.”

“Charming as always.”

You carefully lift the lid, a pair of intricately crafted insoles catches your eye. Javier watches you intently, his full attention making your heart stutter. The insoles, are fashioned from what seems to be a combination of salvaged leather and repurposed fabric.

“I—Insoles?” you gasp, tears prick the corner of your eyes. You lift your gaze and your brows furrow as you meet his. “I don’t remember mentioning I had shitty insoles.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The edges are neatly stitched with a weathered thread, showcasing the craftsmanship that went into it. You notice the tiny details, like irregular patterns and faded hues, hint at a past life.

Javier grins, leaning in as you inspect your gift. "I found an old leather jacket and some sturdy fabric in one of the abandoned buildings. Thought it might make your life a bit comfier. And hopefully—it’ll make my ears hurt less."

“Don’t ruin the moment, Javi.”

“I don’t want you crying. I can’t handle you crying.”

“Aw, big scary Fedra soldier afraid of some happy tears?”

“Didn’t say I was afraid,” his lips touch your forehead, you lean into the heat of them as he takes a seat next to you. “I just don’t enjoy being the person who put them there.”

“You do know what happy means right?”

He waves a hand, “Tears are tears, perla. I’d rather see you smile and laugh.”

Looking back down, you run your fingers over the textured surface. It’s soft, resilient. The insoles seem to mold to the contours of your hands, promising a snug fit when placed inside your old boots. The scent of worn leather and a hint of dust lingers.

"Try them on," Javier urges, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. He nudges you slightly with his shoulder.

“Alright alright. Just give me a second.”

You slip the handmade insoles into your shoes, a surprisingly pleasant sensation envelops your feet. You sigh pleasantly and your eyelids flutter.

“That good, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Javier watches your reaction closely, "So, what do you think?"

"Handmade indeed," you muse, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You always find a way to make things special," quickly, you lean in, your kiss taking him by surprise. “Thank you, Javier.”

He holds you by the hip, hands gradually moving lower to your backside. A shudder runs up your spine, your breathing becoming short-paced.

“Say my name again.”

“Javier,” you repeat, a bit more breathily this time. He stands up, the sudden movement making your head spin. He’s not touching you anymore. Instead, he’s just staring at you, his eyes like charcoal.

“Again.”

“Javier.”

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, he pushes you towards him, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. You inhale sharply.

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “The couch or the bed?”

“B—Bed,” you stutter. When he clicks his tongue with disapproval, you say, “I want you to fuck me on the bed, Javier.”

“That’s my good little troublemaker. My sweet thorn.” Before releasing you, he keeps you still, his fingers digging into your neck. “Before I fuck you,” he groans. “I want you to suck my cock, baby. I want you to get it nice and wet, want you to fucking worship it. Understood?”

You nod in a daze. Javier smiles, a bit of softness showing in his irises. His hand dropping from your neck, he kneads the plump flesh of your ass. “Then I’m going to worship this gorgeous ass. Does that sound fair to you?”

You swallow thickly, not sure what to say when your head is swimming in deep arousal.

“Yes,” you whimper. “That sounds fair.”

The way to the ‘bedroom’ is a blur of quick kisses and rapid stripping; some part of you doesn’t want to remove your boots, you want to continue to appreciate the insoles he made for you, but sadly, you end up kicking them off.

“Lay down,” you say, taking back some of the control. While Javier pulls down his pants, you suck the skin above his collarbone, tracing the bone underneath with your tongue. A soft whimper reverberates in his throat, dragging your lips up, you kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I haven’t even begun worshipping your cock and you’re already a mess?” You palm his erection, grinning at the way it twitches in your palm. “Are you going to come as soon as I wrap my lips around you, Javier?”

He grunts and grips your wrist, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish.”

You know the words are meant to be a lighthearted tease, but they affect you more than you anticipate. You look down at his scar, almost ashamed at the cruel past that ended up binding you two together.

He must’ve felt it because he lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to him, “We’re not in a battle anymore,” he reminds you. “There are no wars. And even if there were any, I have no intention of joining when I’m desperately in love with you.”

Love.

He’s in love?

With you?

“I want to witness the beauty the world still has to offer. . . with you.”

Your eyes go wide, your pulse skyrocketing in your veins. Your chest heaves. Love. A feeling so foreign that you thought you’d never be on the receiving end. Love. An emotion so complex that sometimes it felt you were the only one capable of it. Love. The emotion Javier feels for you.

Love. The emotion you feel for Javier.

You don’t say it—mostly because you’ll get choked up if you do—but you do kiss him with every bit of emotion you feel towards him. You breathe him in. Inhale him. You feel his lashes on your skin as he closes his eyes, feel the thud of his heart against your own chest.

Love.

What an amazing thing it was.

And a cruel thing you were only able to find after the world ended.

“Get on the bed,” you say, softer this time. Javier complies, the bed creaking in protest at his weight. You strip down completely. Your underwear and bra left on the floor. You want to be bare. You want to be safe. And you are safe, with him you’ll always be.

“I love this pretty cock,” you mutter, kissing the side. The muscle in Javier’s jaw tenses, his teeth coming together. You lick up to the tip and wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the ridge. Before he can get comfortable, you drag your lips back down, following the vein that throbs violently under your soft flesh, you take one of his testicles into your mouth. You suck on it slowly and release it, blowing a bit of air over the spit-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he growls, hips jerking. “Fuck fuck fuck—That’s it baby, that’s it. . . Shit—”

Javier’s head falls back, his dark locks a mess above the white-ish pillowcase. You dip your tongue between the crease of them and flattening your tongue, you lick the underside of his cock. His breath comes in short, fast pants. You take him into your mouth, sucking him halfway until the tip touches the back of your throat. You feel your nipples tightening, your pussy soaked from pleasuring him. Javier cradles the back of your head for dear life, thrusting into your mouth with shallow thrusts. You let him. You’d let him ruin you, you’d let him tear you apart and stick you together again.

A series of moans and groans drop from his lips. Saliva trickles down his length, going down his thighs. Moaning around him, you grip the meat of his legs and push yourself down. He sinks into your throat desperately, his breath hitching when your throat convulses around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pushing you off his cock. “I don’t want to come yet but your mouth is too damn tempting.” You look up to him with a grin, he reaches towards you, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “Next time I’ll fuck this pretty mouth so well you won’t be smiling about it.”

“I’ll hold you up to that, you know.”

“Good.”

Javier pulls the pillow under you while he guides you to all fours. Suddenly you’re feeling too exposed with your ass in the air. You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at the sheets. He flattens his palm above your spine, his hand moving all the way down, he stands on his knees right behind you, his cock wet and heavy above the swell of your ass.

“Just say the word and we’ll stop.”

“No, I. . . I want it, I’m just nervous because I’ve never actually. . .” you trail off, your cheeks flaring at the thought of speaking openly—which is hilarious when you think about it because this man has literally seen the worst of you. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Promise.”

Javier seems satisfied by your answer and playfully slaps your ass. You imagine him smiling, stoked to have you in a way that no one else has. He parts your cheeks, you hear the sound of his mouth as a string of saliva drips right onto your hole, Javier hums, and with a thumb, he smears it over. Your breath hitches. He hasn’t even done much, yet you’re already dizzy with the vicious way your heart beats in your chest.

Javier spits again, a pleasurable shudder crawls up your spine. Your nipples tighten. Goosebumps rising across your skin. He slowly pushes in a finger, he stops shortly after, examining the way your back tenses at the pressure. With his other hand, he caresses your spine. It’s soothing and you relax into his touch.

“Wish we had lube,” he murmurs. You hear the rustle of sheets as he moves. “But hopefully this’ll be enough to loosen you up, querida.”

His lips are nothing short of sin. You groan at the touch of his tongue, the velvet muscle swirling around you. He groans at your taste, pulls you closer by gripping your waist. You go willingly. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes, your body jolts as he wiggles his tongue inside.

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the swollen nub. You feel your arousal growing, your body responding to his touch. You moan and squirm, unable to control yourself. It’s too much but also not enough all at the same time. He kisses where he’s been fucking you with his tongue and presses the same finger inside. This time it slides in with ease but he stops half-knuckle deep.

Your body tenses when he swipes over your clit again.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, mouth moving over the plump flesh of your ass.

"Amazing," you gasp, your body tingling with pleasure.

He moves his hand away from your clit and you whimper at the loss of his touch. But before you can protest, you feel him pulling out. Slightly turning, you see him licking his fingers, getting them wet. His hair is a mess, his beard thicker now that time has passed. Your heart swells and your lashes flutter. A beat later, your eyes meet. Javier makes a show up sucking his fingers, smiling around them.

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asks, pressing both fingers against your hole.

Instead of words, a choked-out sound drops from your lips. Your head falls back, your body arching as he pushes them deep.

"Relax, mi amor," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. You wince at the stretch, but his spit makes it easier, and soon his fingers are sliding in and out of you, stretching you open.

Javier leans over you, his body covering yours. You feel his hard length against your back, and you know that he's just as turned on as you are. His fingers begin to move faster, scissoring and curling inside of you. He moans with you, precome dripping down your back and onto the sheets. Your body begs for more and more and more—

"Please," you gasp, meeting the thrust of his fingers. "I need you inside me, Javier."

“How can I ever say no when you beg so sweetly,” he rasps, chest heaving. “Mi dulce perla.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and you feel a sudden emptiness. But it's quickly replaced as he lines himself up with you and slowly begins to push into you. You gasp as he stretches you wide, he stops mid-thrust, waiting for you to adjust. Slack-jawed, you feel sweat beading at your temple. Javier finds your clit again, playing with it until you’re a soaking mess over his fingers, your body squeezing him tight. A loud groan trembles within his chest and he rocks forward, his cock filling you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, voice hoarse. “I could go on like this all day long—until the day I die.”

You want to quip back at him, maybe mention that there’s no way he can go that long, but you lack the ability to form sentences. An elongated groan slips past your lips instead and you swear he smiles, without even looking you can sense the mischievous smile curling at his pretty, plush lips.

Javier starts thrusting into you, slowly at first and then building up speed. His hands caress your body, over your back, and down your hips. You can hear the sound of his lower abdomen slapping against your ass, along with both your moans filling the air. His cock hits all the right spots inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You grip the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he hammers into you, the wet sounds growing and growing with every move.

You feel a sudden intensity building within you, rising higher and higher with each thrust of Javier’s hips. He lets out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you harder. You can’t help but moan loudly You’re feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible.

Javier leans down and whispers into your ear, “You look so fucking sexy like this, taking my cock in your ass. You enjoy it don’t you—my sweet filthy girl.”

His words, along with his cock pounding into your tight hole, send you over the edge and you come with a loud cry, your entire body trembling. Your clit throbs as your cunt squeezes around nothing, pulsing viciously as your orgasm is ripped away. You clench around him and Javier’s movements become erratic. Suddenly, he stills, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. You feel him release inside of you, filling you up as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging his orgasm. Your eyes roll and your lids flutter, your own release washing over you as you come undone with him. He stays buried inside, both of you panting and catching your breath, until he finally pulls out.

Javier collapses onto your back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You both lie there for a few moments, basking in the aftermath. He eventually pulls out of you and you move to lay on your side, feeling his spent trickling down the back of your thighs, you face each other.

He strokes your cheek gently, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You were amazing, mi vida,” he says, still trying to catch his breath.

You smile back at him, “So were you,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair. “Though sadly, I don’t think we can do that again for a while. I’m going to be feeling it for days.”

Just as he opens his lips, a sudden chill settles over your sweat-slicked body and his eyes drop down to your naked body with worry. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you admit unwillingly. You slightly stir, attempting to reach for the blanket. “Winter is finally coming, huh?”

Javier leans in and kisses you softly, his lips moving against yours in a slow, loving dance. You feel a warmth spread through your body, then you feel it on the outside as he reaches down, grabbing the blanket for you.

“It is.”

“Is there a reason we’re outside in the middle of the night?” you grumble, hugging yourself, you follow Javier’s footsteps. “It’s fucking freezing.”

The crisp night clings to your skin, freezing everywhere it touches. You miss the heat of your shared bed, the heat of another body against yours. With narrowed eyes, you glare at the man who is not slowing his steps. Javier takes your hand into his own, forcing you to move faster. He’s been secretive ever since he woke you—and it was definitely not pleasurable to be waken up in the middle of the night, especially in this day and age.

“Javierrrrr,” you whine, throwing your head back. “It’s cold. . .”

“You’ll thank me, I promise.”

“Fine. I trust you,” you chew on your bottom lip and smile. “But mainly because you made me new insoles.”

He turns to you, eyes round and simply adorable, “Are they keeping you warm?”

“They are.”

The two of you continue your journey through the night, and as you walk, Javier's hand remains firmly clasped around yours. The crunch of leaves beneath your feet echoes in the quiet darkness, a lullaby that once again makes you wish you were in bed instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Javier leads you to a small clearing. Your eyes go wide when you notice the soft silver beams cascading onto the patch of ground underneath The air is still, and the world seems to hold its breath, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves.

Your breath catches as you step into the open space, your hand slipping away from Javier’s. A field of flowers had bloomed in various shades, their slender stems standing proud. The delicate petals reflect the silvery light. They remind you of stars, their petals pointed instead of round like you’re accustomed to.

A gasp escapes your lips, and a radiant smile spreads across your face. Your head snaps to Javier, "What are these?" you ask.

Javier's gaze shifts from the flowers to you, and in that moment, the world fades away.

“I have no idea what they are,” he answers, finger moving over his bottom lip. “But they only bloom at night.”

Your heart swells, “They’re beautiful. Thank you”

He steps closer, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "Don’t mention it,” he brushes your lips together, the warmth of his breath making your melt into the earth. “Besides, they’re pale compared to you.”

“No need to charm me further,” you grin. “You already have me.”

“Do I now?”

“You do.”

As you share a tender kiss, the first snowflake falls. Then another. The world quiets down, and as you pull away, you notice the first snowflakes gently falling around you. Breaking away you both look at each other, then up to the sky.

It's here – winter has finally arrived.

Surprisingly, despite the cold, you've never felt warmer. In that simple kiss and under the falling snow, there's a magic that makes everything feel just right.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The grass tickled your bare ankles. You felt lucky to have found some regular shoes. If not you would have to wear your boots that made your feet feel like it was in a sauna. The lovely weather felt like a joke. It wasn’t the reality you lived in, just a mirage of the life before—though even then, it wasn’t quite perfect was it?

Your grip tightened around the straps of your bag. If you listened close enough you could hear the clatter of all the guns you were meant to smuggle in. The FEDRA was cruel in Kansas City. It was like the boogeyman stories but real.

You took a deep breath, your eyes scanning your surroundings one last time. It was like a spitting image of a Van Gogh painting. The world was still alive. It wasn’t infected, it didn’t know about the monsters that lurked on the surface.

Turning around, you continued to walk uphill, your chest starting to ache from both the heat and the constant walking.

Then you saw him.

A FEDRA soldier.

Your eyes momentarily went wide. He wasn’t looking at you, He was fidgeting, constantly looking around as if he was waiting for someone. Worry made a home in your gut. You didn’t think you had the strength in you to fight anyone off today. You just wanted to help the people and get rid of the weight of the guns.

The vest he wore looked like it dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back, and pistol snug on his hip. You wondered if he would use either one on you—

Your eyes locked on one another.

Your breath halts in your chest, your heart ramming angrily and fearfully against its boney cage.

He raised a sole eyebrow, eyes narrowing. He was assessing you, trying to see how much of a threat you were.

“Who are you?” he asked and pulled out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. “You’ll get hurt if you wander around much, hermosa.”

You swallowed, “I—I’m just walking by,” you paid careful attention to make your voice sound meek and frightened. You lifted both your hands in surrender. “Please don’t shoot.”

He lit his cigarette and made no move toward his weapons. You eyed him nervously. FEDRA was not to be trusted.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I just want a place to stay for the night. I was hoping to take refuge here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.”

The soldier looked through his lashes and he shielded the tiny flame with his hand. When the cigarette finally came to life, he took a deep breath then looked up to the sky.

“I really want to trust you. You have a kind face,” he said, sounding tired. “But your bag is making me doubt you.”

You froze, “Please. You can trust me.”

“And that’s all everyone needs during the end of times isn’t it?” he asked, not really wanting an answer. “Someone they can trust.”

He lowered his gaze, looking back at you, he sighed. His gaze lingered on you for an uncomfortable long amount. Your feet were glued to the soil, heat blossoming all over your skin. He had a kind face too. In another life, you might’ve even fallen for eyes.

The soldier suddenly blinked as if hitten by electricity, something he saw bothered him and you worried he saw right through you. Saw that you were a firefly, that you were carrying a shit ton of weapons. But he didn’t say anything.

“Go.”

“Go?”

He looked away, “Go before I change my mind. I have someone I need to meet anyway.”

So he was waiting for someone. Briefly, you wonder but quickly shrug the thoughts away. You had a mission.

You mumbled a thanks as you walked past him, your arms brushing in the process. As you left, you tried not to think about the electricity that circulated you, about the brown eyes and the tired look in them—

You tried not to fall for the possibility of a happy ending. Tried not to look for him when the chaos ensued, when Kathleen took over.

You tried.

And you failed. Miserably.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña au #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #tlou crossover #the last of us fanfic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction

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lightlycareless · 2 months

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How could you break my heart on Valentine’s Day??? Waaaahhhhhh, it makes sense but it still hurts. You’re gonna give me a part three or else 🔫

Seriously though it was really good! I loved it. I calculated and rounded up how much Naoya paid Mei Mei in U.S. Dollars and this dude really paid her around $17,500 and that’s not including all the gifts he bought Y/N. If I was Naoya’s parents, his debit card is getting confiscated. That is INSANE. I can’t imagine if they somehow managed to force out what actually happened to learn he spent all that on a girl that didn’t even RECIPROCATE his feelings like oh my god. I can’t imagine the earful poor Ranta is gonna get especially since this was kinda his idea for Naoya to confess his feelings(Although I don’t know if Ranta thought he’d go about it like this).

I wonder though if Y/N would reconsider Naoya’s feelings if she read his letter. Oof but now I’m thinking about what she’d do if she learned Naoya was the reason why she didn’t receive any gifts. I don’t know how long he’d stay on her bad side after that.

Hello anon!

Gee this is surely a really late response, but I still hope you know I appreciate your lovely words about my work!! Thank you so much 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I'm sorry that I broke your heart on the 14th haha it was kind of unexpected ngl, but that's just where the characters took me 🤭 though it's not all sad... if you know you know.

AS FOR THE MONEY HAHAHAH poor Naoya, he definitely got an earful from his parents, or more like the people in charge of the finances, I doubt Naobito cared enough to scold him (shall I make Tomoko involved? IF SHE WAS AROUND THOUGH THINGS WOULD'VE TURNED SO DIFFERENT) Damn I need to write a small drabble explaining what happened there, but in the meantime, it kind of went like this:

Ranta: What happened Naoya?

Naoya: nothing. *doesn't talk to anyone for weeks*

Ranta: That bad?

Naoya: :(

(he doesn't regret spending all that money on you. it's like a hobby of his lol he loves it.)

But anyways, I keep thinking that the third part for this series I would like something like an epilogue, a peak into the future…

Warnings: none. Fluff. A happy ending 😊. (By the way, this is the oneshot anon is referring to. Highly recommend reading this first!!!)

Happy reading!

“—And that, dumpling, was your papa’s and I first valentine’s day together! Kind of, not really, but it was the first time I got gifts from him. It was certainly different from what I expected, but if you look really closely, it was very sweet, and now, I’m able to look back on it fondly!” You smile; truly, who would’ve thought that you’d end up marrying that awkward, somewhat intense kid? And having a beautiful daughter too?

Though you could see in Naomi’s tense chubby face that this wasn’t exactly the romantic story she was hoping to hear, and you do not blame her, Naoya’s approach had been nothing short of alarming and unexpected, just enough to scare you off from ever considering something more from him!

But his subtle persistence, the small gestures he’d still give you even when openly denouncing he’ll never seek you again, is what eventually persuaded you otherwise.

Through his attentiveness when you were out on a mission with him, making sure that you were neither too cold nor too hot, either through offering you something to drink or his own sweater to wear.

Quick to save you from a curse that got too close, or a fellow student you were not in the mood to entertain.

Whenever you needed help with jujutsu—either a term you didn’t quite understand just yet, or plain practice. Naoya had much more experience than you, so it was only natural that you’d seek him; that wouldn’t change even with that awkward valentine’s interaction…

But above all, what made you see that Naoya might be the one you were waiting for all along, is the fact that he remembered all the things you liked, the ones that made you happy—from sweets, food, to even your favorite characters…

If his emotions weren’t genuine, he wouldn’t have done such a thing!

Perhaps your only regret is ever giving him the idea that you couldn’t come to appreciate him, or that he wasn’t deserving of love.

But that was long in the past, and after a few dates, and getting to know each other… you two fell in love.

Unfortunately, Naomi wouldn’t come to see it that way.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin? This isn’t the story you expected?” Naoya asks with a smile, enjoying the way she huffed in response—though that satisfaction wouldn’t last long.

“No, papa, you were creepy.” She pouted, and her mama could almost hear his heart shatter.

“Oh.” Naoya doesn’t even come to wonder how she knew of such word, undoubtedly from his cousins, but that would be a matter to tend to later after he mends his broken heart.

“Well, he’s done his due! Papa loves us very, very much and would never do anything to scare us!”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Naoya responds sarcastically. “That makes me feel much better.”

You giggle.

“Why don’t you leave us alone, pumpkin? Papa and I need to talk a bit.”

And Naomi obeys immediately after, not that it took much for her to do so, for her disappointment rapidly pushed her to seek something better, a bit more entertaining—like Mai and Maki’s daily occurrences, more ways to annoy her father and such.

Once alone, the two are able to freely look back on that fateful day…

“What I did back then was messed up, wasn’t it?” Naoya sighs.

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily.” You add.

“But nothing happened after that.” He says. “Things didn’t change until much later.”

“Well, I did get to see a new side of you, one I didn’t think you had.”

“What did you think of me…?”

“That you were… bold. Arrogant, a bit snobby too…” you say, Naoya’s face reddens out of shame.

“Don’t—Don’t say anything else.” He frowns. “I get the idea loud and clear…”

“But that you were sweet too.” You smile, taking his hand. “I’ve never been lucky enough to have someone hold such strong feelings for me… thought it to be something out of a fairy tale—Until I met you—someone that harbored so much love to give but didn’t know how to express it.”

“You make me sound much nobler than what I really am—I don’t know how you do it, Y/N…”

“It took me time to get there, love.” You laugh. “But it’s only because you’re so cute that I eventually thought otherwise.”

“Cute?” he huffs, ready to retort otherwise, until you lean in to kiss his cheek, gesture enough to have him willing. “Alright—but only you can call me that.”

“I better be the only one.” You warn. “Although I was hoping our dumpling would do so too when I told her our story…”

“…Well, I can’t blame her, it must’ve sounded crazy for her.” Naoya sighs. “…If someone dared do the same thing to my daughter you can be sure I’d send the kukuru to get rid of him! No jerk is going to impress her!”

“I don’t think that’ll happen; Naomi didn’t seem amused by us either way.” You reassure him. “And she’s too young to be worried about that too! All she cares about right now is when will her papa get her that kitten he promised her…”

“I’m working on it!” Naoya frets. “It’s just that kittens aren’t born until later in the year…”

“Well, let’s hope that you aren’t too late, something tells me that my sister might be already on the lookout…”

“NO, she’s not.” Naoya breathes. “I will never forgive her if she does!”

But you just shrug playfully, not really giving Naoya much of an opportunity to not worry about spoiling his daughter, fearing that he might lose the position of favorite human in the whole wide world against your sister! A rank Hinata has been coveting for as long as he could remember, competing with the rest of your family too…

A tough endeavor, though he’ll have something else to worry about now.

“By the way… I’m aware of what you did with what you did with the gifts.” You say, he freezes.

“Ho—How?” he blinks.

“Shoko told me. Mei Mei wasn’t that… fond of keeping secrets that were too juicy to hide.” You reveal.

“That woman… she told me that—!” but he goes silent, understanding there was a much bigger issue at hand. “…Are you angry with me?”

“Yes, so angry, that I’ve decided to personally torment you for the rest of our lives!” You tease, at the mischief of your voice, a weight is lifted from Naoya’s shoulders. “I was angry, but… it didn’t last long, considering that some of those gifts were from people I didn’t really want to be involved with… so, you kind of did me a favor… though I did have to go through a whole day thinking I didn’t get anything…”

“…I’m sorry—I might’ve gotten ahead of myself trying to impress you…”

“Well, for all the chocolate I missed back then, you made up for me, tenfold!” you grin, wrapping him in your arms and placing kisses all over his cheeks until you could no more. “I love you, Naoya—you and all of your bold, extravagant, though a bit silly, ways. So don’t worry about that anymore, not when it was the reason that brought us together.”

Naoya blushes, letting himself be consumed by the incessant demonstrations of your affection and the acceptance of your words, for there was honesty behind them—even when a rocky start, it ultimately fated the two together.

What was once nothing but a dream, one that seemed so far away on the day you rejected him…

Now was his everyday reality—if not better, for it brought along a small bundle of joy that made both of your lives happier, although there were moments where she didn’t feel particularly the same, unamused by her parent’s antics from time to time…

But even then, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

They got their happy ending nonetheless :') Really, that day was only the beginning for them. It was enough for Y/N to finally set her eyes on him!! And the rest is history 🥺❤️

Thankfully I do plan to write a bit more of this HS AU, you know, the simple things like them slowly falling in love 🥺 ajfghajkghajghjkas this has to be one of my favorite au's (if not the favorite haha) can't wait to write them in time.

Now, thank you so much for your support and patience 🥺❤️❤️!!!! I'm really glad you're liking my work!!!

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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