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#43 days after the crash
chaoticace2005 · 1 month
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Rules for the Hazbin Hotel, authored by Vaggie:
1. No drugs.
2. No fights.
3. No pranks.
4. No problematic language.
5. No murder (OR TERRITORIAL GENOCIDE WHAT THE FUCK ANGEL)
6. No smuggling in of drugs. Not by sticking them up your ass. Or by hiding them in a pizza box. Or by slingshotting them to the roof. Or getting someone else to. Not at all.
7. No sexual rendezvous with outsiders in the hotel. No SHOWING sexual rendezvous with strangers to people of the hotel either.
8. Make sure the pig/future pets stay in the patron’s room. (This includes eggs!!)
9. No singing Limit singing to once twice per day
10. Stop flirting with the bartender Angel
11. Don’t call Husk “Husker” unless he allows it.
12. No harassing the staff at all. This includes asking who tops.
13. Don’t suggest anything sexual/romantic to Alastor unless you want your head cut off.
14. NO CUTTING OFF PEOPLE’S HEADS
15. NO EATING PEOPLE
16. NO MAKING CHARLIE CRY.
17. Don’t ask me to put my spear “inside you” Angel, what the fuck?
18. Don’t turn the interior of the hotel into a swamp?! Keep it contained in your room if you must!
19. No stabbing staff or residents. No matter how much they look like bugs! (OR IF THEYRE NAME IS ANGEL)
20. Don’t try and stab bugs if they’re within 10 feet of another demon.
21. Don’t call anyone a “bitch” OR TALK ABOUT HOW MY NAME SOUNDS LIKE “VAGINA”
22. Limit Niffty’s access to sharp objects.
23. NO DEALS ALASTOR
24. No drinking. Limit drinking at bar.
25. No mentioning the Stock Market Crash of 1929. For everyone’s benefit.
26. Don’t blow a hole in the wall.
27. Try to keep roast battles OUTSIDE the hotel. (Or stop picking fights?? Please Alastor I swear to God…)
28. No spying on the hotel for outside sources or putting technology that can be used against us.
29. No evil laughing in the middle of the night, what the fuck Alastor?
30. No building weapons/war machines.
31. No eggs! (Fine the eggs can stay.)
32. Someone please keep an eye on Niffty. (And the eggs.)
33. Stop touching people ANGEL.
34. Don’t make other people storm off HUSK.
35. Respect boundaries.
36a. If Angel looks like he’s about to pass out/cry don’t comment. Let him do his thing.
36b. Don’t try to talk to Angel if he’s on the phone with Valentino. Honestly don’t even mention his phone calls with Valentino.
37. Please don’t call Lucifer “Daddy”
38. Don’t turn into a 20 foot tall demon-eating creature unless absolutely necessary.
39. Don’t cause angry loan sharks to show up at the front door.
40. NO EXPLOSIONS!
41. Rule #2, “No fights” can be broken if the person you’re fighting is Valentino. Or Adam.
42. Don’t lie to your girlfriend or hide the fact you were secretly an angel.
43. DONT TALK ABOUT PEOPLE’S TITS (or lack of)
44. KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING A BEDROOM ESPECIALLY IF SOMEONE’S HAVING MAKEUP SEX
45. Don’t give people makeovers while they’re sleeping, ANGEL!
46. Don’t pretend to eat someone’s pet, ALASTOR
47. Don’t die.
48. I never want to hear the words “cum-plete” again.
49. STOP HAVING FIGHTS ACROSS THE BUILDING LUCIFER AND ALASTOR!!
50. If Charlie is passed out on the couch LET HER SLEEP
51. No making bombs in the hotel Cherri!
52. Stop breaking rules and then saying it’s “FOR SIR PENTIOUS!”
53. Angel don’t try to shoot someone if they break spaghetti.
54. Don’t break spaghetti. Or “ruin” Italian food. Whatever the fuck that means. This apparently includes pineapple on pizza.
55. Don’t mention Valentino unless Angel brings him up first.
56. Don’t comment on Angel and Husk’s flirting.
57. Only call Angel “Anthony” if things are serious (or if you’re Husk)
58. Don’t use any of the nicknames Husk and Angel use for each other. This includes but is not limited to: “Whiskers”, “Legs”, “Kitty”, “Webs”, “Tony”, “Love”, and “Baby.”
59. It’s better not to question whatever facts Husk gives about his past.
60. Family dinners at 6 pm unless you can’t make it due to prior obligation. Game nights after on Sundays.
61. No hunting people for sport and NO KNIFE MONOPOLY.
62. Don’t attach knives to a roomba so you can have a “boyfriend” Niffty.
63. Keep Niffty away from Roombas.
64. Alastor, treat people with decency. Really, it’s not that hard.
65. No making giant ducks that breathe fire to chase people around the hotel just because they call you short.
66. Therapy. Everyone.
67. DONT HAVE SEX ON THE BAR WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?!
68. If Valentino enters the property you have permission to stab him.
69. “Hell is forever” is bullshit. You guys aren’t. You can do this.
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yxngbxkkie · 6 months
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surprises (b.c)
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two fics in one day isn't a common thing 🫢 i'm doing a fic of 3racha in NY for each one, so all that's left is hanji 🫢 I hope you guys like this and look forward to the next! 💓💓
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
Your heart is racing in your chest as you've been waiting for this moment for almost two months. You sit on a bench in Central Park, noticing a family having a picnic in the middle of the field. A smile reaches your lips as you watch the father chase his daughter around.
"Cute," you whisper to yourself, pulling your phone out. 6:43 pm.
You and Skijigi came up with a plan together to surprise your boyfriend, Chan, since the two of you haven't been able to see each other in a while.
"Just a little bit longer," you mumble to yourself, locking your phone before slipping it back into the hoodie pocket.
A shiver runs down your spine as the chilly wind brushes your clothed skin. You put the hood of your hoodie up, pulling the drawstrings to keep the warmth in.
You begin to glance around again, noticing two people walking in your direction. Your breath hitches in your throat as you recognize Chan.
You stand up from the bench, not being able to wait any longer. You start walking towards the two, and you giggle as Chan keeps his head down. You press your lips together before deciding to bump into him.
Skijigi slows down a bit without the man beside him knowing, wanting to give the two of you space to reunite. You purposely bump your shoulder with Chan's before instantly apologizing.
"Shit, I'm sorry," you keep your laugh in, placing one of your hands on his shoulder.
Chan looks up to apologize as well, only for his eyes to widen when he sees you. "Y/N?" He asks, looking around for his manager.
"Hi, baby," you chuckle, clasping your hands together.
He grins, dimples indenting his cheeks. "I can't believe you're here," he mentions before bringing you into a hug. "Hi, my baby."
You wrap your arms around his neck, your chuckling continuing. You hide your face in the crook of his neck as his grip on you tightens.
"What are you doing here?" Chan asks after pulling away, his hands moving to your shoulders.
"I came to surprise my boyfriend," you tell him, lifting a hand to pinch his cheek. "I missed you, so Skijigi and I came up with a plan."
Chan moves his hands to your face, stroking your cheeks before kissing you softly. "How did I get so lucky?" He sighs.
"Turns out," you pause, gaining his full attention again, "you're real cute, baby."
His cheeks start to blush, and you know for a fact that his ears are turning red under his black beanie. You lean on your toes, planting another kiss on his lips.
"I love you," Chan whispers against your lips, one of his hands slipping behind your head.
"I love you too, Channie," you mumble, resting your forehead on his. "Wanna take a walk?"
He nods his head, and you grab a hold of his hand, lacing your fingers together. You rest your head against his shoulder as you and Chan begin to walk through Central Park together.
"Are you guys excited for tomorrow?" You ask him as your free hand rests on his bicep.
"Yeah. Han and Changbin are probably the most excited though," he laughs while you shift your head to look at him. "They're actual kids sometimes, I swear."
You let out a loud laugh, nodding your head in agreement. "They are kids, Channie," you remind him, picking at the fabric of his hoodie.
"Anyway, we're very excited. The other members have wished us luck multiple times already. I wish they could've been here," he sighs, shoving his free hand into his pocket.
"I know," you squeeze his bicep in reassurance. "There's always next time, remember that."
Chan nods his head before kissing the top of your head. "Thank you, baby," he whispers loud enough for you to hear. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn," you joke with him, nudging his shoulder with yours. He laughs with you before playfully rolling his eyes.
"You're probably right," Chan giggles as he starts swinging your conjoined hands. "Hey, I've got a question."
The smile falls from your lips at the serious tone of his voice. "Yeah? What's up, baby?" You ask him, beginning to feel a little nervous.
He stops walking and pulls you off of the path. That way, you're not in anyone else's way. Chan holds both of your hands, his dark eyes looking into yours. You squeeze them gently, signaling for him to ask his question.
"Would you move in with me?" He asks you, causing your eyes to widen.
"Really?" You ask in disbelief.
Chan nods his head, smiling fondly at you. You pout at him as you can feel tears brimming your eyes. "Oh, baby, don't cry," he panics slightly, releasing your hands to hold your face.
"Sorry, I'm just -" you laugh, shaking your head. "I would love to move in with you, Channie."
"Yeah?" He beams, eyes lighting up at your words.
You nod your head, and he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. He deepens the kiss immediately, and you hook your arms around his neck. After the two of you pull away, Chan wraps his arms around you before lifting you slightly.
"Are the guys okay with it?" You ask after he puts you down.
"I've already spoken with them, and they don't mind you moving in," he assures you, "plus, you practically already live there."
You giggle. "You're right."
Chan quickly kisses your lips again. "When we get home, I'll help move your stuff in," he grins widely.
"I love you, Channie."
He kisses your forehead, mumbling, "I love you too, Y/N. So much."
~
tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky
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j-0ne25 · 2 months
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AVALANCHE
CHAPTER [VIII] of LEVANTER [18+!]
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“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that were sins, that were wrong—but loving you was always right,” he whispers.
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⛓️ SYNOPSIS: Your husband is found guilty, doomed to stay in prison for seven years. So, you spend the remaining days together, having a proper wedding that you two deserve—already trying to figure out how to prove Jisung’s innocence.
💊 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, chan x afab reader, minho x afab reader, gang/mafia au, angst/smut/fluff, gang leader jisung, doctor chan, gang member minho, they get married in a church and very brief themes of religion [jisung is christian but nothing is specified about reader’s beliefs], pls refer to masterlist for more info, content warning under the cut [include spoilers]
💵 WORD COUNT: 14.5K
🔪 CONTENT WARNING: [not too specific to not spoil the whole plot so read at your own risk] mental health topics, blackmailing and threats, (excessive) alcohol and weed consumption, explicit sexual content [includes dom/sub dynamics, semi-protected sex, breeding kink, reader gets called princess and baby], death threats and use of knives
🧨 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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It all came crashing down at once. Like an avalanche. Your husband is still in pre-trial detention and you haven’t heard from him since then but you’re gonna be okay. You have little Lino, Soonie and Minho around you. The latter does his best to keep you fed, remind you to take your meds and get back on the track of life. Which is ironic because all he does—together with the other members—is to head out at night, making money with shady strategies.
Since you’ve been part of Levanter you’ve cut yourself off from everything that was once important to your everyday life. This doesn’t only include staying in touch with your family—well, let’s be real it isn’t much of a difference since they never called anyway—as well as anything that could get you or your husband in legal trouble. You’ve missed therapy appointments and it shows. You’re a lot more on edge especially with everything that’s going on.
The good thing about all the criminal activities that happen around you is that Minho can still provide you the adderall that you need. Although, the effect is limited. It’s always been like this—when your mind is occupied with something else and you take your meds, you’re not focused on what you need to do, no, you solely focus on your problems more. But it’s enough to help you accomplish everyday tasks like showering, taking care of household stuff and occasionally leaving the house.
It doesn’t help that both your husband and your best friend aren’t in your life right now. Sure, it’s only been a couple of days that Chan has left you on read but it’s so not typical of him. Even during twelve hour shifts at the hospital he’s always managed to reply to you as soon as possible. You’re slowly getting worried, for sure.
You stare at the chat again, worry bubbling up in your chest when you realise you haven’t gotten a single answer yet. It’s so fucking late but you’ve had one glass of wine too much; and smoking a lot of weed after such a long time makes you more irrational than you already are.
Fuck this. You’ve texted Chan the day before yesterday after he’s ignored you for a couple of days already and it’s been continuing like this until now.
[You 18:42]: Hey Channie ❤️ when is your next therapy appointment?
[You 22:43]: just let me know once you know it!! so i can accompany you :)
You didn’t think anything bad back then. So you texted again the next day. Still no answer.
[You 08:52]: did something happen? lots of stress at work? text me or call me if you wanna talk! ❤️
[You 17:32]: have i done something wrong? are you ok?
This was only yesterday. Right before dinner and right before Minho left the house to go on his usual midnight spree with the other members of Levanter. After all, someone has to pay their bills and therefore they have to find some innocent person with a bit of bad luck every night to do that for them. He’s asked if you wanted to come with them but you’re not in the right state of mind—making a mistake during any kind of criminal activity due to lack of focus is the last thing your group needs.
So, this is how you find yourself at home, in the middle of the night, lying on the sofa and rereading Chan's chat. You don’t care anymore. You’ve wanted to stay polite and understanding—but he’s been ignoring your texts and calls for almost a week now. On top of that, the substances in your system are ruling your brain by now, making you forget that your actions have consequences. Therefore, you type again.
[You 04:20]: for fucks sake chris can you just reply?? i’m getting a lil worried..
You take another drag from your joint, allowing your lungs to invite the intoxicating smoke in, before you blow it out again. Getting up for a second, you realise how dizzy you are but you luckily still manage to walk towards the kitchen. The cold water that splashes into the glass first and runs down your throat a second later doesn’t do much but it’s better than nothing.
Getting back to the couch, you reread the messages over and over again, hoping for Chan to magically respond to you out of the blue. Occasionally, you check the news in hopes of finding something related to your husband. But the police seem to keep everything a secret which you would find a little suspicious if you weren’t so wasted.
Faster than you’re able to grasp it, your fingertips are hitting the screen again, typing another message—fury running through your veins.
[You 04:35]: listen if you don’t wanna talk to me anymore that’s fucking fine but just be honest and tell me what i did wrong!!
You need to walk around a little. You need more and you need less. Going to Jisung’s workspace room, you are in search of something very specific. Your eyes hover over the tote bag that Minho left here and when you reach inside, you find exactly what you’ve been looking for—a pack of cigarettes. After what feels like ages, you put one between your lips and grab the lighter that’s sitting on the desk. The flame hits the end and you take a deep puff from it, before you walk back to the living room.
Turning on some lighthearted show on Netflix, you allow your brain to shut off all the thoughts that have been harassing your mind. You’ve finally managed to stop drinking, though, now rather opting for water instead. However, you realise it’ll take some time to get sober anyway. Some twisted part of your brain wants you to stay like this, absolutely intoxicated, since it feels somehow less painful than real life. You’ve always made sure during your younger years to not use any type of substances in order to deal with your feelings. But you’re not able to think rationally anymore so screw that.
Speaking of, a vibration echoes through the living room, coming right from your phone. For a second you think it’s Chan who is texting you but it turns out it was just some notification about a sale on an app you installed to get some discount when buying something once, never using it again and forgetting to delete it after. It’s been on your device for two years now.
However, you end up opening the chat again. Absolutely delusional. Lost. Whatever you wanna call it. Your head is just as dizzy as the thoughts that are stumbling around in there. Fuck this. You’re so fucking overwhelmed. You realise that you’re crying only when one of the salty droplets hits your phone screen, ironically, right on the little space where you’re supposed to type a message on the chat.
So, that’s what you do before you hit ‘send’. Twice.
[You 05:31]: fuck this.. is this what i get for going to all those appointments with you??
[You 05:33]: i thought i meant something to you but it seems as if everyone is turning their back against me huh everyone leaves me.. and now you too
Minho finds you right after that when he comes back—your eyes are still red and puffy from crying and smoking too much earlier.
“Y/N… what’s going on? Why are you awake?”
“Can’t sleep,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, as if it’s nothing.
He’s starts coughing, when he tries to take a deep breath but the smoke that’s still lingering in the living room makes it into his lungs instead of oxygen, “Fuck. Wait—lemme open the windows first.”
Once he’s back, he grabs the used wine glass and brings it to the kitchen. The ashtray gets discarded to the office room again after cleaning, where it belongs too.
“Are these mine?” Minho asks, pointing at the pack of cigarettes that’s still lying on the couch table, a bit emptier than before.
You look at him with wide eyes, “Don’t be mad at me, please…”
God, you’re so overwhelmed and emotional and the substances spreading through your system don’t make this any easier. Minho immediately sinks down on the sofa, hastily reaching for your hands, squeezing them.
“No, kitten. I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he whispers with a low voice. “Just… worried, that’s all.”
But you don’t have to be scared anymore. Minho is here—ready to pick up the shards that are living in your heart, making sure that you aren’t alone. His hand slowly wanders up to your face, softly brushing over your cheek with the back of it. It feels like fire on your skin although his fingers are still pretty cold from staying outside for so long.
“Can you… sleep in bed with me together again?”
It just blurts out of you. Without thinking about it for too long. Just your inner needs speaking for themselves, not wanting you to be alone in a state like this.
Minho is quite confused from your wording—you usually don’t seek comfort in him in a way you’d do when reaching out to a friend or your husband, so his mind immediately runs into the wrong direction.
“Y/N… I’m not gonna have sex with you when you’re drunk and high,” he explains, a worried look on his face.
You instantly shake your head, “No– not like this. Just falling asleep together.”
He sighs, letting go of you and having his gaze meet his hands that are placed in his lap now, fingers intertwined with one another.
“That isn’t a good idea either,” he adds.
You’re confused. Why’s this supposed to be wrong? You’ve slept in a bed together before—that night after you filmed that video for your husband. Although, when you woke up the next morning, Minho was already gone. Perhaps, he regretted what the two of you did. Or he just doesn’t like you as much as you thought.
“Why? What about it?”
I’m catching feelings for you, he wants to say but doesn’t.
Minho has been trying his best to fight it but he can’t deny that he’s caught himself staring a little too long at you during these past days. Everything is still fresh—it’s just some crush that will eventually go away, but he doesn’t want to confuse you or himself.
“Min, please… I don’t– d-don’t wanna be alone r-right now,” you whisper, before the sniffles take over you again.
Your husband’s best friend is fast to pull you into a hug, the palm of his hand attached to the back of your head as he softly strokes your hair, trying to calm you down. Shit. He didn’t expect loneliness to be behind this but it makes sense. God. He can’t imagine how you must have been feeling these past nights whenever he’s gone, only Lino and Soonie with you. But since Jisung isn’t here right now, Minho has to take care of the gang and operate all the things they do at night once the sun is down.
So, he decides to help you up from the couch, “It’s alright, Y/N. I’m here. We’re gonna get through everything together, yeah?”
Minho brings you to the on-suite bathroom, wiping you off your makeup and doing your skincare routine for you. His hands are a little shaky caused by his nervousness that erupts whenever you’re near but he’s trying his best to hide it as much as possible. Your friend helps you brush your teeth too, before he puts you into your pyjamas and tugs you under the blankets in your bedroom.
“Wait here for me, yeah? I won’t take long, okay?”
You nod, before you watch Minho disappear in the bathroom again. He comes back five minutes later, changed into some sleepwear. Long strides bring him towards you, until you feel the weight of the mattress shift and he crawls under the blanket as well.
“Can you… hold me?” you shyly ask, finding his eyes in the darkness.
“Sure,” Minho replies before he pulls you closer. He dearly prays that you can’t hear the pace of his heart that is threatening to burst out of his chest.
“Goodnight, Min. Sleep well.”
He places a soft kiss on your temple, “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”
💊
You can feel your pulse crashing against your skull when you wake up—utterly hungover, ready to drop back to the mattress once again. Fuck. What the hell did you do last night?
You hastily blink, trying to fully wake up before you swing your legs to the side of your bed. Two things fill your vision now—your phone, screen lying flat against the nightstand, as well as a little note with a glass of water and an aspirin. Deciding to read the words first, you grab the piece of paper.
‘Morning, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready there’s food waiting for you in the kitchen :)’
Comfort rushes through your heart before the butterflies inside your stomach start roaming around—while you try your best to ignore them. 
Before you get up and follow what’s written on the note, you take a glimpse at your phone, realising you haven’t received any messages from Chan. Fuck. You don’t even dare to look at what you drunkenly texted him tonight, which is why you place the device away and get ready for the day, despite the pounding feeling inside your head.
The smell of fresh basil is entering your nostrils when you join Minho in the kitchen a little while later. He sends a gentle smile your way, already putting the food he’s prepared on a plate for you. It’s already evening time again, since you slept pretty long—exhaustion and the hangover were keeping you tied to your bed.
“Eat, Y/N. Your body needs energy.”
You nod, before you try some of the pasta Minho made. It tastes delicious like it usually does which makes it a bit easier to eat. You manage to finish the whole meal, nearly chugging down a whole litre of water in the process. Despite still being quite hungover, you feel a lot better now thanks to Minho.
He gets up and puts the plate and cutlery away for you, telling you to sit down on the couch. You do as you’re told, before he joins you a minute later, handing you a cup of herbal tea. You stay like this for at least an hour, cuddling a little together under one of the soft blankets.
Fuck. This all just feels a little too domestic. Minho shouldn’t be doing this with you. He knows that Jisung won’t be mad about it, if he found out but his guilty conscience is somehow getting the best of him.
It doesn’t quite help that you’re leaning your head on his shoulder, holding his hands and squeezing them tight. Occasionally, you change your position a little to look at him, your gaze flickering down to his beautiful lips, thinking back to how they felt pressed against yours.
You wonder when Jisung will be back. You wonder if he’ll be surprised about the fact that Minho and you get along again—maybe a little more than that. You wonder how he’ll react to this whole situation.
Minho is looking back at you now, staring at your lips just like you’re doing the same. No, he shouldn’t. Last time was different, right? This was just pure pent-up desire that the two of you had to take care of—but this time it feels different, at least from his side.
And for you, well, you’re thinking about Jisung and at the same time you feel lonely. You crave the touch, Minho’s touch, having him close to you and showing you that you’re not alone in this, a gesture to prove that you’ll get through this together.
At least that’s how you justify it when your lips land on his, sealing them in a kiss. The man is hesitant first, but gradually gives in. It doesn’t take him long to hover you into his lap. Your mouths stay connected to one another, as time seems to stand still around you.
“Is this okay?”
He’s so soft—so different to the last time you’ve been intimate together.
You nod, “More than that, Min.”
His lips crash into yours again, before you feel him smirk. Minho’s tongue slips inside your mouth, finding yours. You’re in trance—but in a good way. He manages to take your mind off all things bothering you.
Soon, he’s reaching under your shirt, pulling you closer by the waist as his fingers dig into the soft flesh. His kisses have made it to your neck, creating a pretty pathway down to your collarbones while you start moving on top of him. God, this feels so fucking good and it’s literally just kissing.
“You could have waited for me before you started, you know that, right?”
The voice and the chuckle added to it are coming from the doorway, echoing through the apartment. You immediately get out of Minho’s lap, turning around towards the source of the intruder.
Your husband looks tired and happy at the same time—finally being able to see you again.
“Sungie…”
Standing up, you run towards Jisung, pulling him into a tight hug. There are tears in his eyes and you’re not any better. Your heart is beating out of your chest—both because you’re so glad to have him again but are already scared about what he’s gonna share.
Considering the fact that he’s back probably means that he wasn’t found guilty, right? 
Or is this too naïve to believe?
“Princess,” Jisung says, before he places a gentle kiss on your lips.
The both of you stay like this for a minute—like opposite magnets clinging onto one another, as if mother nature created you to find each other and live a happy life together. Hopefully, Jisung will stay here for now. You can’t wait to find out what the future holds—your heart is beating out of your chest, mostly due to anxiety about what he will share.
Your husband lets go of you, before he walks towards his best friend, before he embraces him, too. Even from afar you can see the tears in Minho’s eyes.
“Is it okay if I talk to him first, baby?”
You wonder why he’s got to share the news with Minho alone. But you try to not question it. Jisung also has to discuss some things considering your traditional wedding and his best man needs to know some more information. As well as how that pre-trial detention went.
Fifteen minutes later Jisung gets back to the living room and Minho stays inside the workspace—his eyes are as red as yours last night. If he walks out now, you’re gonna worry even more than you already do. Jisung should get a chance to explain everything to you at your best pace.
“Sungie?” you call out your husband.
His gaze is directed towards the floor, as he’s squeezing his eyes together to hold back the tears. He sinks down next to you on the sofa, reaching for your hands.
“I have bad news, my dear.”
You knew it.
You fucking expected the worst.
And still those words shoot through your heart like a dagger.
“We don’t have much time, princess,” he adds, sniffles filling the room—you can’t differentiate if they’re coming from him or you. You don’t even have to put two and two together, your brain has already made the calculations for you. 
Jisung is going to prison.
Jisung, your husband, the love of your life, the man that you have waited for for three years that is finally back again gets snapped out of your life again.
How is anything of all of this fair? 
“I’m… going to prison because they decided I am guilty for creating C.Drugs and selling stuff online. Our old website wasn’t even mentioned… i-it’s just about this one that I actually am not responsible for.”
This is so fucked up on a whole new level. There has got to be someone behind it—some mastermind that planned all this, that must have spied on Jisung or the whole gang of Levanter just to get rid of him.
You seriously don’t get it. How could they even draw the connection to Jisung when he wasn’t caught with J.Drugs? And why aren’t you getting accused then?
Who’s got a reason to put him in prison?
Well—considering he is a gang leader, Jisung probably has many enemies. But Levanter has always reminded you that they operate a little differently than other groups. Inspired by the actual Albanian mafia—who Jisung or mostly Minho has connections with—they don’t form hostility, they rather opt for allies.
The first one that comes to your life is the gang that calls themselves after some Austrian musician but you just can’t bring yourself to believe that your best friend Chan is behind that.
Although… maybe that’s the reason why he’s been ignoring you? Afraid to spill the truth? Scared of his own guilty conscience?
You won’t get far with your assumptions now. You’ve gotta sit down, perhaps with both Jisung and Minho, and align all the hints and evidence you have for now and find out who is responsible for that. Possibly, once your husband is already in jail because there’s no time to lose that could be spent together instead, trying to not worry about the future.
Which leaves you with two very important things you need an answer for, although your heart is already beating out of your chest just thinking about them.
“When… w-when are you going to prison? And… for how long?”
Your throat burns and your breath hitches when speaking the latter question out loud. You seriously don’t want to find out for how long they will put him away from the real world.
“In two days,” Jisung says with a small voice, reaching for your hands. He squeezes them, as if this would help him to keep you with him, to hold you tight until the end of time. “It’s for… for seven years. They say it’s safer this way. You should have seen their faces when they decided to find me guilty.” 
Seven years.
Seven fucking years for something that he didn’t even do. 
Sure, they’re gonna get rid of a criminal nonetheless but this doesn’t seem fair. Jisung—or anyone—shouldn’t lose seven years of their lives for something they didn’t commit.
You’re gonna get him out of there. Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin, all the other members and you are gonna make it your only goal to get your husband back and fight against this system of injustice and corruption.
Still, you’re left with another thought on your mind. If Jisung will be gone for seven years, you can’t wait until then to have a proper wedding. He’s told you that he's always wanted to get married religiously, too, so that you’re spouses in front of God and not just that corrupt government.
Which leaves you with only one option, “So… our wedding is tomorrow then?”
Jisung nods, his eyes pricking with tears again and he’s sure he’ll die from dehydration before he even gets to prison.
“Yeah… I guess so. I’ve already messaged the pastor of our local church,” he informs you.
Wow. Then he was one step ahead. You’re glad he’s arranged that.
You get a little closer, letting go of his hands and placing your own right on his cheeks again, before you pull him closer.
“Jisung… I love you so much. I’m gonna get you out there and prove your innocence, yeah?”
He places another one of those gentle kisses on your lips, halting in place for what feels like eternity.
“I love you, too, my princess.”
💊
You have definitely underestimated how sore your legs would be on your wedding day, if Jisung has you in a mating press position for endless hours the night before. He had been thrusting his fat cock into your wet hole with no end, cumming inside of you again and again, his seeds spilling out of your cunt whenever he went for another round.
But you’re here now. In Yubin’s apartment that happens to be very near to the church where Jisung and you will be getting married. Cherry is currently preparing your hair, putting it in a style that you’ve talked about for years now and since she’s pretty talented when it comes to this, you just let her do what she thinks it’s best—and it is truly the best, you realise once you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
Yubin herself is responsible for your makeup. It’s simple but it fits—silver glitter is decorating your skin, the green eyeshadow really adds to it and works perfectly together with the wonderful dress that you will be wearing.
Speaking of, Gahyeon has already brought it here—the dark green fabric reflecting the light as little sparkles, almost making it look as if there’s fireworks printed on the material—carrying it towards where you’re seated. Once you’re finished with everything else, you get up and walk towards where your clothings are placed.
The transparent stockings will keep you warm, considering the chilly temperatures outside—a little untypical for the summer heat that the weather forecast announced. Gahyeon and Yubin help you into the dress, both being very careful with the silky fabric, trying to not ruin anything in the slightest.
They soon realise you’ll have to get into the bridal gown with your feet first in order to not destroy your hair. That’s what you do, stepping into it while Yubin hovers it over your hips. Right when it stays there, your chest covered in lingerie still exposed to the room, the door swings wide open, revealing Jisung behind it.
“God, princess, you look absolutely stunning,” you hear him in the distance. You turn around, observing a bright smile on his face and glassy eyes staring at you.
Suddenly, Gahyeon steps between the two, covering your whole body with her arms—and failing very much at the try—as she hastily yells at your (soon-to-be) husband.
“Jisung, get out!”
He looks at your best friend a little confused, cocking his head and chuckling, “Why? I’ve seen Y/N naked before, duh.”
Gahyeon sighs, walking towards him, placing the palms of her hands in front of his eyes like a blindfold.
“You’re not supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony! It’s bad luck, Ji,” she hysterically explains.
“It’s gonna be okay, dear,” you add from a few metres away. “That’s just some old made up superstition that’s based on the groom leaving the bride before they get to the altar. You know, considering arranged marriages and all and the groom doesn’t find his future wife pretty or something–“
“No. I mean, yeah, it’s based on this,” she interrupts you. “But still. Bad luck. Fuck– Jisung, get out!”
He decides to just give in and leaves Yubin’s bathroom again. After all, he’s forgotten why he came here in the first place anyway. And on top of that, Hyunjin and Yeonjun have to finish his hair and makeup too.
A little while later—with a few complications due to the heavy fabric—your friends have managed to put the dress on your body. When you take a step towards the mirror, looking at your whole finished look, you’re afraid that the expensive makeup will go to waste when you already feel like crying.
You try to convince yourself that it's because you’re going to marry the love of your life in less than an hour and not because of what happens tomorrow. You will hold onto the thought that Jisung won’t stay in prison for long, that his men and you will manage to get him out as quickly as possible, proving his innocence.
“We’ll leave you alone for a second, yeah?”
Gahyeon’s voice echoes through the bathroom when she notices that you're deep in your thoughts. You nod, before you watch your three friends disappear.
Okay. It’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve always found a solution for anything in life. You’re gonna solve this thing, too. Although this seems a little more severe this time. God. You feel dizzy and the stupid side effects of your meds only add to it, unfortunately.
You stay like this for a few minutes, trying to decrease the racing speed of your heart, until a knock on the door startles you.
“Y/N?”
It’s your friend's voice. “Yeah, Cherry?”
You notice how she’s hesitant. On the other side of the wall, there’s a curly haired man looking at her, waiting for Cherry to make the next move.
“Someone is here for y-you,” she says, before opening the door and letting someone that you thought had ghosted you.
“You’re alive,” you say with a scoff.
Cherry disappears somewhere in the living room, while Chan steps inside and closes the bathroom door behind him.
God. You look utterly beautiful in that attire. How he’s always wished to be the one responsible for seeing you in a wedding dress, destined to walk down the aisle with you, making life-time promises together. Yes, it’s ironic—after all, he was the first one who was engaged to someone else and you had been there, as you were preparing everything for his big day in order to help him.
How the tables have turned, right?
“Somewhat alive, yeah,” Chan huffs.
“You haven’t replied to my texts,” you state, turning around towards the mirror again. 
“I… I couldn’t, Y/N. I’m sorry. It was getting too much for me,” he admits.
This is ridiculous. He could have just told you that by sending a message. It’s literally not that complicated.
But it isn’t as easy as it seems.
What you don’t know is that Chan has been plagued by his guilty conscience ever since he stumbled across that sex tape you made and, well, his hand somehow landed around his dick while he kept watching your tits bounce up and down and listened to your sweet little moans.
On top of that, the person that sent the threats to him—who he suspects to be Minho—sounded more than severe. Chan isn’t risking anything that could get him, his men or even you in trouble. 
“And what about me, huh? Have you ever thought about how I feel with all this?” you ask, your voice increasing its volume by a few decibels.
“Of course I have,” your best friend says, approaching you further. “Which is why I distanced myself in the first place. You don’t deserve anything I’ve put you through during the last couple of months and I didn’t want to pressure you even more by going to the therapy appointments with me.”
You don’t get him. You also don’t want to deal with any of this a couple of seconds before your fucking wedding.
“Chan, I do that voluntarily. Because you are my best friend. At least I thought so,” you tell him.
“We are… we are best friends, of course, angel. It’s just–“
“It’s what? Why are you even here? The ceremony is in half an hour and you haven’t even texted me if you will be there,” you remind him.
Chan must be out of his mind. First he ignores you for a week and then he just pops up out of nowhere, trying to talk to you about God knows what right before you’re about to become the wife of his enemy.
“Of course I would be there. It’s just that–“
“What? What is it?”
God, Y/N, if you keep interrupting him, he will never be able to explain himself.
“Y/N… Don’t get married.”
The words echo through the bathroom.
Don’t get married.
How dare he? How fucking dare he tell you this?
You’ve had an agreement. That agreement included platonic feelings only—no matter how hard it is for the both of you—and Chan comes here trying to sabotage your wedding.
This is getting too much. He is getting too much. You don’t know what to do anymore. 
“What?”
“He’s not good for you,” Chan says with a small voice.
Why is he gaslighting you now? Well, nothing particularly new when it comes to the one and only Christopher Bang, right?
However, this isn’t the right place or time.
Or, perhaps, this is just the best moment. The final straw you need to break the camel’s back. If not now—when are you gonna wake up instead from the blossoming and pastel pink world you’ve built and imagined around what was once between Chan and you?
You wished you had a bulldozer to tear down the monument you created inside your head that was dedicated to him and the hopes you’ve had for the two of you on every imaginable level.
“What the fuck?! What are you on about?”
It just blurts out of you. The noises that came from the living room lingering through the thin walls suddenly stop. But you don’t care. You seriously couldn’t care less if Chan is standing right in front of you, throwing accusations about the love of your life around as if he’s some preacher himself.
“Let me explain–“
“No. Chan. No. Stop trying to convince me that–“
“For fuck’s sake– can’t you see how toxic he is– he even tried to–“
You scoff, “Ironic that you’re the one to say that.”
“Jisung literally put some GPS tracker inside that necklace just to know where you are at all times and he is trying to put the blame on me for–“
You won’t repeat all the awful things Chan did to you. It’s clear as the day on this summer afternoon. Just focus on the accusations he made.
“Chan,” you start, looking at him with a stern face. “He didn’t check that, okay? Besides that, it was already inside the jewellery before he gave it to me. It’s the most precious thing he owns. It is just to protect both the gemstone and me.”
Your best friend shakes his head, clicking his tongue. He gets a little closer to you. God. Why can’t you just let him speak and explain everything? Chan needs to tell you that your husband and his best friend blackmailed him and are trying to get him in jail for something they did.
He can’t believe this is really happening. Despite breaking the promise himself a few months ago, your best friend knows how much you value honesty and you deserve nothing less than that. He can’t watch you run into misery and into the arms of a man that isn’t as good as he pretends to be.
There’s so much more behind Jisung and Minho, that he is sure of. After all, he’s done some intense research these past days after receiving the threats from them. What Chan did since being a part of Wolfgang is nothing compared to even a single thing that Levanter is responsible for. After all, their leader and right hand man has real connections with the actual mafia. And these men might do a lot more immoral than a little bit pickpocketing, drug selling and blackmailing.
But judging from the face you make and the fury swirling around in your beautiful eyes, Chan knows he won’t be able to tell you more about it. You’ll come back to him when you find out about the truth. At least he hopes so. He’s promised to protect you and he’ll do anything to keep you safe—even if you decide against him.
“Keep believing that,” is all he says then, giving up.
You seriously don’t get him. You’re supposed to get married in like ten minutes and Chan shows up to lecture you after ghosting you for nearly a week.
“Why are you bringing this up now on my fucking wedding day, huh? We’ve been over this one hundred times– I am with him, I am in love with him.”
There are tears pricking at Chan’s lower lashline. He can’t hold back. It’s not just the jealousy that’s eating him alive but also the fact that you don’t know the whole story of your husband and his best friend.
“I thought therapy was going well for you…” you add, your gaze fixated on the bathroom tile. The makeup took long enough to not get ruined, you can’t risk any crying destroying it.
“It did.” Fuck it. It’s useless. Chan realises this. And unfortunately, this is the green light for those toxic emotions that still overcome him to be set free. Yes, he’s gotten a lot better than compared to a few months ago—but you triggered more than one thing here. Unintentionally, of course. But this doesn’t hold him back to tear you down with him, when you decide to demolish that monument you built for the both of you. 
“Until I found out that the two of you got married and I wasn’t invited,” he adds.
“It was a spontaneous appointment we took, so there was no time to ask any friends to join us. That’s why we’re having the actual wedding now,” you explain.
“That’s not what I am mad about.”
Chan is mad about many things that can be put under an umbrella named ‘Jisung’s red flags’. 
However, there’s one thing that cuts deepest in his heart and that’s caused by you and not his enemy.
God. It’s so toxic. But he can’t hold back. The words are already lingering on his tongue, waiting to be set free.
“What is it then?”
“Do you really wanna know why I wanted to attend the official wedding?”
Because he’s your best friend and wants to see you happy?
Just similar to how you helped him with preparing his own, when you still thought he was gonna marry Mia. Yikes.
“Why?”
He’s got that mischievous smirk on his face again. Until it turns into something different—an intense sign of pure spite. His wide eyes stare at you, his heartbeat quickens inside his chest.
“I was gonna say no.”
You shake your head. Then you scoff, not grasping the audacity he has. Ten minutes before the traditional ceremony he’s telling you this. Weeks of therapy for nothing, as it seems. All the appointments you came to the hospital with him, holding his hands after another tear shedding session to grab some ice cream together.
And the worst thing is—you still feel with him. You understand why he is reacting this way and it breaks your heart and at the same time makes you go absolutely furious.
But on top of that, it just adds to your suspicions that Chan is the one who is behind C.Drugs and blamed it on Jisung. You can’t believe he’s putting him in jail for seven fucking years just to get closer to you.
“I want you to leave.” Your voice is so small, almost inaudible. “I don’t want to ever see you again, Chan.”
A dagger stabs right into his heart. Gets turned around. Makes him bleed out all the emotions he’s bottled up right there for so long.
“Y/N…”
“Goodbye. Please, j-just go,” you say, sniffles making you stutter.
“Angel–“
“Don’t fucking call me that,” you yell at him.
“I–“
“You heard her. Piss off.”
You didn’t even realise that someone opened the door and got inside the bathroom as well. God. You’ve probably got pretty loud because of this heated argument.
Your husband’s best friend looks at you, searching for any signs how to handle this situation properly according to what you need right now.
“Min… it’s alright–“
“Go outside to the hall of the church, Jisung is probably already waiting for you at the altar. I’ll take care of Chan,” he informs you.
Minho watches you nod, not even taking a last glimpse at your former best friend, before you disappear and leave the bathroom.
Great. He’s got Chan right where he wants him.
The younger one chuckles, before he approaches the rival gang leader. He checks one last time if the knife is still placed inside his suit jacket. 
“Such a dumb mistake to make, Channie,” Minho starts, using the nickname that was reserved to spill from your lips.
“The fuck do you mean?” 
Minho chuckles, cocking his head, “Do I really have to spell it out? Why the hell do you come here a few minutes before the wedding to harass Y/N?”
“I didn’t harass her, what the fuck are you on about?!”
“Whatever. She obviously didn’t want you here and if you ask me, she should have erased you from her life a long time ago,” Minho says.
“Why do you care, huh? Are you the one marrying her?”
Chan gets a little closer to the younger one now, staring into his eyes with fury decorating his own gaze.
“No,” Minho replies. “But she’s marrying my best friend, okay?”
Of course, he’s pulling this card. It’s all about Jisung once again and how much you are in love with him. He feels his stomach twist at the thought of it. A week ago he was ready to let you go, watch you be with the one you want—until said man let his best friend blackmail Chan.
So, if they are taking unfair steps—he’s gonna trip them and watch the two fall into their own demise.
“I bet you’re just jealous, hm? That you’re not the one to get her,” Chan starts provoking, his voice getting a little less angry now, transforming right into that mischievous demeanour from just minutes ago.
Minho scoffs. Dearly praying that Chan is just saying that to piss him off and not because he’s been a little too obvious about his slowly developing feelings for you. He thought he'd been hiding them pretty well.
“Funny that you of all people are saying that.”
Chan clicks his tongue. “What? Am I right?”
“You know nothing, Bang Chan,” Minho spits through gritted teeth.
“Maybe, if you ask her nicely, she’ll let you fuck her. She’s never been the most loyal any–“
And that’s Minho’s signal to open his suit jacket and reach for the sharp object inside the pocket. He picks out the knife, holding it in one hand, while his other arm pushes Chan right against the tiles of the bathroom wall behind him, roughly hitting his back.
A second later, unable to react quickly enough, the older one feels a blade a little too close to his throat for his liking.
“Do it, Minho. Go on. Kill me,” Chan breathes, his voice turning into the one of a maniac. “But just know that Y/N is going to hate you even more than she already will. I know that you were the one who blackmailed me—but I’m sure Y/N isn’t aware of it.”
Minho believes Chan is bluffing, which is why he guides the knife even closer, blade grazing over the skin of his enemy’s throat without actually hurting him.
Chan just knows that Minho and Jisung are behind C.Drugs themselves. There is enough circumstantial evidence for that. But he won’t accuse them now, not wanting to make the guy in front of him even angrier. It’s so obvious—the website’s name indicates it must have been Chan’s creation while he thinks that HTML is some new special protein shake. He knows nothing about coding. He looked at the page, too, it’s a pure copy of the old J.Drugs.
“Besides that—it wasn’t me,” he continues. “You have every reason to suspect me but if you give me a chance, we can sort things out and find out who’s really behind that website. I can help you save both Jisung and Y/N.”
Okay. This puts things in another perspective. Although Minho fears that Chan is just saying this in order to save himself.
And unfortunately he was right about something else too. Despite you and Chan not being friends or anything anymore as it seems, you wouldn’t forgive Minho if he hurt him in your name.
So, he takes a step back, still directing the knife towards Chan but he isn’t close enough anymore to severely hurt him if one of them did a wrong move.
It’s the only chance he has, right? Maybe he can work together with Chan and make him confess. 
Minho reaches inside his suit jacket again and hands the older one a piece of paper, “Here, my number. Call me when you either come to your senses to confess or if you have someone else to blame.”
The older one scoffs, looking at the business card of Lee Minho that he just received.
“And now get the fuck out if you want to see the light of the day again tomorrow,” Minho adds.
Chan rolls his eyes, before he heads towards the door. 
Once he’s alone, the leader’s right hand man takes a deep breath. And another one. Before he turns around to the sink, turning it on and letting the cold water splash to his face. This will calm him down a little. Hopefully.
When Minho steps outside, he realises that everyone has already gone to the church, except for one person.
“Finally,” Cherry says, reaching for Minho’s arm and dragging him towards the entrance of the apartment. He doesn’t bother to question her, obediently following her instead.
Your friend doesn’t question him either, while she instead decides to comment on the flowers she finds outside in the garden right before the old medieval building. But Minho can’t listen anyway. His mind is still occupied by the conversation he just shared with Chan.
And when Minho and Cherry enter the church, they watch you and Jisung already being at the altar as the pastor speaks.
They hurry to the front row—well, there aren’t many people here anyway, just your close circle—taking a seat each. She sinks down next to Gahyeon, while Minho chooses the chair next to Cherry and Hyunjin.
Speaking of—he hears loud sniffles entering his left ear and when he turns around a little, there is his friend playing the end-level drama queen once again.
Minho rolls his eyes, as Hyunjin whispers, “Don’t laugh, okay? They’re just so… perfect. They make me believe in true love again.”
The older one gives him a soft smile, knowing that this isn’t something Hyunjin would say so easily considering what he’s been through.
Minho decides to bring his attention to the couple at the altar instead since you’re already at the part of the ceremony where you make your vows.
You’re shyly holding hands, making you like some silly teenagers and this just makes everything more adorable. Jisung’s suit has the same shade of dark green as your beautiful dress, whereas the gemstone is decorating your neck once again.
Jisung gulps, before he starts speaking, “I’ve always been afraid of showing my true form—the ugly and bad sides. But I know you’re in love with the mess I am. You… you helped me learn how to love myself.”
You just look at him, fighting the tears that are pricking at your lower lash line. 
“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that were sins, that were wrong—but loving you was always right,” he whispers. “Even in the darkest times I didn’t give up. Because there was a light at the end of the tunnel and that light is you.”
The first droplet rushes down your cheek but you let it be, focusing on your vow instead.
“Loving you is the highest form of truth I’ve ever experienced,” you start. “I’ve kept wondering my whole life if objective truth exists and I found it in the feelings I have for you. You’re the one that held me back from giving up, that always allowed me to be my true self around them.”
The man in front of you closes his eyes, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose, as he tries to gather himself. It’s so extraordinarily bitterly sweet. This whole scene. The rough contrast. Bad and good. True love and the thought of being away from you for so long.
He manages to look at you, giving you a sign to continue.
“Some might say this is all messy… I’m in love with the mess, too, as you know. Which makes this anything but that. Jisung—you mean comfort to me. Safety. You bring some type of chaotic order in my life that I can’t quite explain but it’s all I’ve ever needed but never searched for.”
There’s a weird mixture of sniffles and giggles filling the church—coming from the two of you but also the audience. When you catch a glimpse of your friends, you watch Hyunjin basically sink down the chair, unable to handle the emotions. It makes you chuckle.
“You may kiss the bride,” you hear the pastor speak from your other side.
A second later, Jisung takes a step towards you, reaching for your face with his hands. Your cheeks get placed in the palms, as he pulls you closer. 
Softly, he presses his lips against your own, making you forget about all the horror in this world—even if it’s just for the moment.
💊
“Jisung?”
The two of you are finally back home, inside your shared bedroom, about to spend the last night together—for now.
“Yeah, princess?”
You feel heat rush to your head when he calls you by that pet name. A little cheesy, for sure, but it just fits so well. He’s everything you ever wanted and just for the moment you try to push away those horrific thoughts of being far away from him for the next seven years.
Where were you?
Ah, right. The video. You wanted to show Jisung the sex tape you made—like a special little wedding gift for him.
“I’ve got something to show you…”
“For me?”
You smile, “Hm. Take a seat on the bed, I’ll grab my latop, okay?”
Jisung nods, watching you disappear behind the door. Luckily, Minho send the video to your device, suggesting for you to show the little movie you made to his best friend. So, you reach for your laptop that’s sitting on the couch table before you quickly rush back to the bedroom.
You place it on the mattress, pushing the button to turn it on before you walk towards your side in order to sink down on the soft cushion as well. A hand circles around your wrist, making you halt in place.
“Before we watch whatever you wanna show me,” your husband says, getting up. He’s standing right in front of you now, taking in another glimpse of that beautiful view of how the shimmering green fabric is hugging your curves.
“You look absolutely stunning but I need you to take off that dress, yeah?”
Jisung blames it on something like ‘we don’t wear any outside clothes in our bedroom’ but you know that it’s partly an excuse to just see you naked again. He doesn’t have any time to lose so he might as well just use every chance he gets.
Your husband watches you slip out of the dress, all slowly and sensually, before you’re standing there in your dark lingerie. The black lace fabric suits you so well, Jisung is afraid he might just get a boner at the sheer sight of it. You notice him getting a little shy, his gaze unapologetically fixated onto your chest now, taking in the beauty of your covered breasts.
“Good g-girl,” he stutters, “a little more comfortable this way, right?”
You take a step towards him, throwing your arms around his neck which just makes him feel even more flustered now. Fuck, Jisung can’t grasp how he deserves you. It’s unbelievable that after all the shit he’s done and that has been done to him in this life that he’s ended up with you. Perhaps, his prayers have been heard after all.
Maybe seven years in prison, seven years without freedom aren’t as bad when loving you was the one thing that has always granted him the most freedom he could ever get and ask for.
“I missed you…” he hears you speak, watching your eyes flicker down to his lips.
Jisung takes the initiative then, when they crash right into yours, sealing them in a heated kiss. You instantly let out a soft whimper, giving in. Why would you hold back anyway?
Your tongue slips into his mouth, somewhat trying to gain a bit of confidence and he lets you. This desperate side of you that loves to take the upper hand from time to time is one of his favourite versions of you. Sure, he loves all of them, but this specific scene reminds him of your first night together right again. Three and a half years ago. A lot younger, a little more naive. Not yet expecting what will happen some time later.
If you told your college self that you’d be marrying Han Jisung one day, you wouldn’t believe yourself. Unfortunately, the same counts for the dark future that lies ahead of the two of you. But you won’t allow this to get in the way of you. Tonight is only filled with pure love, tonight is reserved for the two of you. No thought wasted on the years in prison that are awaiting your husband and no thought about your best friend that turned his back against you.
Jisung is holding you a little firmer now, his hands pressed to your hips, while he keeps kissing you like a starving man. Your fingers are roaming all over his body—they left their initial location around his neck, thumbs placed on his cheeks. Now hovering down his shoulders, laying flat against his muscular chest, they start playing a little with the buttons that are attached to his dark shirt.
You open one by one, smirking a little while Jisung just continues to kiss you. He feels so helpless whenever you get a little more dominant, whenever you take the lead in this. But it’s all he can picture at this moment. Being with you like this feels so right. As if this is meant to be and it is in fact meant to be. The rings around his and your finger tell you the same.
Once your husband has taken off the cotton fabric, revealing his upper body to you, you send a mischievous grin his way. Starting with slow little kisses, you create a pathway down his neck, his collarbones, his chest and stomach. Until you reach his lower belly and decide to just drop down to your knees.
How much he’s gonna miss this sight. The way you’re looking up at him, your eyes begging to pleasure him, to allow you to take his cock inside your mouth, listening to the sound of your moans and gagging, until he’s shooting his cum to the back of your throat,
The fact that you wanted to show something to him is long forgotten—at least for now—when you’re already playing with the hem of his suit trousers. Jisung helps you a little when he starts fumbling with his belt, throwing the leather across the room, his impatience increasing its level with every second that passes.
You rush to pull down the trousers, watching them pool around his ankle. Your hand reaches to palm the tent that has built up in his boxers, making him wince a little. Jisung’s fingers travel to your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair in order to guide your gaze up to him as he makes you stop staring and drooling all over his clothed cock.
“Don’t be such a tease, yeah?”
He watches you nod, before your fingers slip under the hem of his underwear, pushing the remaining fabric right down. His hardened dick springs free, leaking with precum, ready to be pleasured by you.
You look up again, smirking a little, as your hand wraps around the base. You look absolutely ethereal like this. Jisung consideres to take a picture of the current scene, how you’re salivating at the sight of his cock, begging to be a good girl, solely with your eyes.
But then he remembers that he can’t bring his phone to prison anyway and despite him always emphasising how open he is about other men watching, flirting and touching you—his world might fall into pieces if Chan saw you like this. You haven’t talked about it yet. Neither yesterday in general nor today about the fact that your so-called best friend didn’t attend the wedding. But being in this pre trial detention for a week opened Jisung’s eyes a little or, well, made him a bit more jealous to be frank.
He knows that you only love him, he knows that when it’s about emotions you only have eyes for him. However, the sheer thought of being away from you for seven years—except for some weekly visits surrounded by security and prison guards—lets anxiety run down his spine. And of course, behind his closed eyes the first picture that comes to his mind is Chan.
He’s happy that Minho will be staying here for now, as well as Gahyeon from time to time as long as her work shifts and hours spent in college allow that. But the idea of your best friend close to you in any way—shit, this keeps messing with his mind a little too much.
Should he tell you this? Should Jisung tell you that he doesn’t want you to be intimate with Chan? It’s not like you’ve had sex with him since that weird kidnapping attempt in the other leader’s secret office and neither do you plan on making any move on him, but you’re—unfortunately sometimes—a very forgiving person and a lot can happen in seven years.
It would probably be inconsequential to not allow you to get close with Chan but don’t care if you hook up with any of Levanter’s gang members, right?
Speaking of—Jisung’s mind is a mess. At this point he doesn’t even know if he even wants you to engage in any activity with his men. Which is confusing. Because it has never bothered him until now. It has been quite the opposite, the sole thought of Minho touching you threatens to make his cock stiff wherever he is.
And it’s still like that. When he entered the apartment yesterday, observing you on top of his right hand man, it made him get aroused on the spot. This isn’t anything to worry about and if anything, he wants Minho and you to be happy, to be there for one another when he can’t be here. For hell—he might even encourage it further because he loves the two of you so much that he just wants you to be happy and take care of whatever animalistic fantasies might come up when he’s not here.
So why does he feel a change in his view about this topic approaching him?
Maybe that’s exactly the issue. Jisung won’t be here. This whole game about watching you engage with other men has only ever been fun if he’s allowed to participate as well—to the very least as a part of the audience.
He doesn’t want to admit it but there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head that makes him worry you’ll fall in love with someone else instead when he can’t be here for you.
It’s all fun and games that Minho is there for you, that he watches out for you and takes care of you—but the idea of his best friend and his wife falling in love and eventually abandoning him, makes his stomach turn. What if you realise that Minho is so much better than him?
This inner monologue suddenly dies out when your tongue meets his shaft, adding a long stripe to it.
“Come on, baby,” Jisung whimpers, getting a bit too impatient now.
All you do is smirk before a string of saliva collides with the tip of his cock.
And then all the synapses inside his brain shut off. He’ll never get over the feeling of your precious mouth wrapped around his dick. It just feels so delicious although you’re the one tasting him right now. 
“Yeah… just like that,” he adds, his hand still attached to your head, a fist full of hair caught between his fingers.
He watches you bop your head up and down, taking in centimetre after centimetre while he desperately tries not to blow yet. But it feels just too good and he might just go again after that, right?
Your hand is still circled around whatever doesn’t fit, until you decide to change the course a little—your nose gets closer to his stomach, when you try to stuff your mouth with even more of his length, until the tip of his cock brushes against the back of your throat. Jisung triggers your gag reflex with it, chuckling to himself when he sees you struggle a little, all while you let out another moan.
And it’s not as if he’s any better. Your husband is fighting so much to not reach his release yet. After all, he adores that view in front of him a little too much to let it end. But this is easier said than done when you’re so good at sucking him off. God. He dearly hopes you’ll get him out of prison as soon as possible so he can watch the beauty of your pretty lips around his cock every night.
Your eyes are looking up at him, pretending to make you seem to be any type of innocent when he knows this has never applied to you to begin with. He thinks back to that night in college when you first ended up in his bed. Jisung was so shy and it feels as if he’s a whole new person now. He’s the luckiest guy on earth that you seem to love every version of him.
When your pace speeds up and you squeeze his thigh a little with your free hand, you feel your husband twitch inside of you, getting dangerously close to his orgasm. He won’t be able to hold back that much longer, he fears, which is why you give him a few little nods before pulling him out of your mouth.
A second later, you stroke him to completion, feeling his hot spurts of cum land on your face, tits and tongue, creating the prettiest artwork this world has ever witnessed. Jisung continues to cry out your name, not at all caring that Minho is somewhere in the apartment, too. Whimper after whimper spills from his lips, that godly sensation spreading through his veins until he comes down from his high again.
You lick your lips, before you bring your index finger to your face, scooping up a bit of his cum that’s sticking to your skin and guiding it to your mouth. Your husband fears he might faint at the sight, which is why he helps you up again and places a quick kiss on your forehead.
Jisung is fast to bring a towel then, cleaning your face and himself all carefully, before the two of you get in bed together, realising that you initially wanted to share something with him.
“Okay…” you start, opening the folder on your computer where you saved the file. When you find the clip, you double click on the icon but immediately hit pause to keep it from automatically starting.
“A video?” Jisung asks, not quite understanding what this is about.
“Yeah… uhm… when you were away, Minho and I… filmed a little present for you. Yeah. I hope it’s not weird, if you don’t wanna watch I can immediately turn it off and delete it and we will just forget that this has ever–“
“Stop, baby. It’s alright. I’m sure I’ll like it.”
Of course, the doubts are still there. That overthinking in the back of his head makes him wonder if he should allow you more than what is usual in a monogamous marriage. But then again—it’s Minho. His right hand man. His best friend. The man that he is attracted to as well. This is like the utmost bisexual crisis for Jisung.
The clip has been playing for half a minute now, frame after frame of Minho pushing his fat cock into your hole in front of your husband’s eyes. You get a little nervous now since Jisung is so oddly quiet but when you dare to turn around to him, you see that grin on his face that’s just too typical for him when he watches you with someone else.
Screw any confusion he’s had about Minho and you—although they solely rely on emotional levels anyway—this video is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. The two people he finds most attractive in this world, the two people he loves the most on this planet—together, pleasuring each other in order to entertain Jisung with it.
“Baby, pause for a second.”
Still nervous, you do as you’re told, hitting the spacebar and the video stops.
Jisung reaches for your hand and guides it to the boxers he put on only a few minutes ago. You can feel the tent pressing against your fingers, making your eyes widening.
“God, you can already go again?”
“I guess that’s my body’s reaction to you, princess,” he confesses. You giggle along, as you start palming him through the thin material.
“Come on…” Jisung says, two fingers placed under your chin to make you look at him, “let’s watch this together while you sit in my lap, yeah?”
You nod as you follow his idea, getting on top of him. All eyes are on the screen when Jisung unpauses the sex tape again. You feel yourself growing impatient—and wetter—soon, especially with the feeling of your husband’s erection poking into you.
Throwing one arm behind you, as your hand starts playing with Jisung’s hair, you whisper, “Need you inside of me, Ji…”
He chuckles, the grip of your hips getting a little firmer.
“God… needy little thing, you’ve been warned though… always so impatient, hm?”
You readjust your position then, getting up on your knees, so Jisung can pull down his boxers. Pushing your laces aside, you spread your legs and reach for his hardened length. The tip is right at your entrance, your arousal dripping onto it, before you sink down on his cock.
“Fuck– big–“
“Yeah, big stretch, hm? That’s why I wanted to take my time with you, brat” your husband says, helping you a little with the first motions and getting used to the feeling. “Go on, baby, touch yourself. And stop moving.”
Is he for real? Jisung wants you to cockwarm him while you’re both watching that video in front of you and pleasuring yourself? He could have just said that he wants to edge you and overstimulate you both in one night.
Still, you dumbly follow suit, two of your fingers finding your clit as you start playing with you. You wonder if you look already as fucked out as that recorded version of yourself on the screen. Your movements are messy, they don’t really get you anywhere but you’re too far occupied with the feeling of Jisung’s dick inside of you.
“Let me do that, yeah? Pathetic little thing…” you hear him whisper behind you.
You haven’t noticed, but when Jisung went to grab some fresh underwear earlier, he also brought his belt with him that was still splattered around on the floor with the other clothes. He reaches for the leather, telling you to bring your arms behind your back, until he wraps the material around your wrists. Tying a knot, just enough to keep your hands together but not too much to hurt you, he chuckles to himself when he thinks about how helpless you look.
“Keep watching, darling. ‘M gonna take care of you, hm?”
You nod, doing as you're told. Your arousal is dripping out of you, gushing all over Jisung’s cock. It makes him bring two fingers right to your clit.
“Stay still, yeah? Bring your focus to the video.”
Jisung is pushing himself into demise with this, too, he knows that. But it’s just too good to watch you in a position like this one.
“Fuck… why are you so wet already?”
“Because I love you, Ji,” you let out, not caring how cheesy you sound.
Your husband chuckles, before he starts rubbing your clit, slow circles making you lose your last piece of sanity.
“Did Minho take care of you, baby?”
Jisung has got his answer now. It turns him on. So ridiculously much. How his best friends is towering over you, how your eyes get filled with tears when Minho stuffs you full with his cock, the fucked out expression decorating your pretty face. There’s no doubt your husband will hold you back from this.
“Y-Yeah, he did…” you hum, your focus switching between that unholy scene playing in front of you and your husband’s fingers between your legs.
“Did he take his time eating you out before, hm?”
God. Han Jisung is gonna be the death of you. You’ve underestimated this so much. Time to play along, right?
“Yes, f-felt so good… fingered me, sucked on my tits and all… he l-let me ride his thigh, too,” you whimper.
Jisung’s eyes roll to the back of his head, while he tries his best to stay calm while his length stiffens even further inside of your aching cunt.
“So he prepared you well for his cock?”
“He did– a-and he filled me so nicely… was so good…”
“Hm, what a good boy he is to my princess.” The circles on your clit become a little more precise now, while kisses erupt on your shoulder. “And you’re such a good girl.”
In front of you, there’s a copy of you doing almost the same thing with your husband’s best friend. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t watched the video before. But in this setting—it’s a lot more intense. You don’t know who looks more drunk on cock—your past self or your current one.
“Were you thinking of me, princess, when Minho was thrusting his cock into your tight little cunt, hm?”
If you remember correctly, your mind went blank because he fucked you this good.
“Or was your brain already far gone at that time?”
You giggle. Jisung knows. He knows your body so damn well, of course. He keeps playing with your clit, his other hand squeezing one of your tits, as he helps you closer and closer to your climax.
“Similar as it is right now, huh?”
You nod, leaning towards him, as your head falls back and your orgasm washes over you. Jisung helps you ride out your high and right before he’s able to see stars too, he slips out of you, somehow still managing to hold you and edging himself in the process.
Once you come back to your senses, your gaze falls down and you notice the mess you’ve made. But Jisung is fast, grabbing the blanket he’s placed underneath you for a situation like this and throwing it on top of the used clothes from earlier.
“Alright, let me turn that off,” your husband says.
He reaches for the laptop then, shutting it and carefully placing it on his nightstand table. Without a word, he gets rid of the belt around your wrists and holds you by the waist, quickly placing you on your back. Automatically, you part your legs for him, eager for more. God. Jisung can’t believe you’re actually real.
“I need you all to myself tonight, baby.”
You hastily nod, grabbing his upper arms in a way to make him hurry. Jisung laughs about your eagerness, before he aligns his cock with your entrance. He pushes himself into you again, curse words spilling from his lips when you clench around him. Despite all the preparation a minute ago.
He starts moving, opting for a steady pace right from the beginning. Fuck. He is not gonna last long. And judging from that look on your face, you for sure won’t either. But your wet walls just keep tightening around him, not making it any easier to not cum undone.
Jisung grabs the back of your legs, before he’s hovering them over his shoulders. He finds the perfect angle, thrusting harder and deeper into you, while his name leaves your lips like some broken record. His moans are filling the room, too, squelching sounds of your pussy that’s sucking his cock in, driving you closer to the edge. A little more. Just a little more and his fingers back on your clit before you tip over again.
“Come on, baby, fall apart on my cock,” is all Jisung says before the sensation takes over you.
Your legs start shaking, your mind turns into a blur, while you scream your heart out and cream around his cock. Jisung helps you through it, telling you what a good girl you are for taking him so well. When he gets a little sign from you to continue, he picks up his pace again, chasing his own high.
And you know exactly how to get him there.
“Need your cum, Sungie… I n-need you to breed me,” you whisper right into his ear.
The man lets out a high pitched noise, not seeming so dominant anymore when you speak to him like that.
“Fuck, princess–“ he lets out, feeling himself getting closer to his orgasm, too.
You both know that you’re on birth control. After all, Jisung and Minho always make sure you take your pill every day but this little fantasy still stays in your husband’s head. This is why he feels his cock twitch, when you are the one begging to be filled with his seeds.
“Shit– you’ll get what you're asking for, princess. Gonna stuff that pussy to the brim with my cum,” Jisung lets out, pounding into you without any mercy. “You’d look pretty… you know… carrying my babies… just imagine your pregnant body. Beautiful belly, swollen tits.”
“Fuck– Sungie–“
You can’t believe it but you’re reaching yet another high, tightening around his cock, before he shamelessly spills his seeds into your hole. He pumps you full of his cum, while trying to come down again but that’s easier said than done when you feel just so good.
A little while later, Jisung carefully slips out of you, watching the mixture of your liquids trickle down to the sheets.
“You can fuck as many guys as you want—but this is reserved only for me, you get that?”
Your heart skips a beat when you listen to him, already getting aroused again if you weren’t at the verge of overstimulation. On top of that, your husband brings two fingers to your cunt, gathering up the juices that run out of you, before he pushes them back inside and earns another moan from you.
“At the end of the day… you’re my wife… you belong to me, so I am the only one who gets to do this,” he makes sure you remember. His fingers leave your pussy again, as he gets up from the bed.
Everything happens in the blink of an eye, when Jisung places the softest kiss ever known to earth on your temple. He carefully gets up, before he rushes to the on suite bathroom, bringing a warm towel with him. Your husband takes his time, cleaning you from the mixture of your essences, making sure to be extra gentle with you. He hands you some comfy pyjamas from the closet next, before he takes his time and gets ready for bed, too.
You’re already snuggled up under the covers, when he finally approaches you and gets under them as well. He pulls you closer, watching the smile on your face, the sparkles in your eyes and the slight nervousness that’s spread all over you thanks to the life that is awaiting you from tomorrow on.
Jisung still has some things to discuss with you. He trusts you a lot. He doesn’t trust anyone on this planet as much as you. Both regarding your unconditional love for him but also that you will be getting him out of prison as soon as possible.
You stare back at him now, seeing some non existent question marks surrounding him. It’s as if there’s something lingering on his tongue but he can’t let out the words.
Until he gatheres up enough strength.
“Baby?”
You bring your hand to his face, softly stroking one of his squishy cheeks with the back of it, “Yeah, Ji?”
He gulps. He’s so nervous despite knowing that he can tell you everything.
“Can I ask you something?”
You nod, “Of course. Anything.”
Your husband takes a deep breath. No sounds coming out of him. He takes another deep one, hoping he will manage to speak what’s been harassing his thoughts since the trial… or possibly even before that, if he’s honest.
“Can we maybe… readjust those boundaries? You know with… sex outside our marriage,” he proposes with a voice so small you barely hear him.
The first thing that comes to your mind that your husband might be hinting at confuses you a little. Is he talking about him being in prison and meeting other people there?
Your heartbeat quickens at the thought of it. Whereas Jisung has always been more than open when it comes to you and other people doing anything physical together, you’re not sure if you could handle it if the roles were reversed. Jealousy might eat you alive, that you are sure of.
“Do you… want to expand them? So you can… you know… in prison?”
It’s hard to even say that out loud and you pray he didn’t hint at that.
“Oh God, no,” Jisung replies, immediately letting relief wash down your shoulders. “Nothing has changed about me. I only want you and it’s really okay that you have different standards for me compared to what I think is okay when it comes to you.”
You’re glad he’s put emphasis on the difference between the two of you. You’ve felt a bit bad about this dynamic, you can’t lie. Somehow, it felt unfair that you get more freedom in this marriage than he does.
“Okay. It’s not egoistic of me?”
Just making sure. In the back of your head it feels a little uneven.
“Baby, no… not at all. It’s just–“
“What is it, Sungie?”
Your interruption kind of takes the wind out of his sails but Jisung ignores it. It’s not easy at all talking about this but he understands that you might get as insecure as he already is, on top of losing your focus.
But he can do this. He can propose some adjustments. It will be fine, right?
It’s just some minimal changes, isn’t it?
Well, for the next seven years, he might add.
“Would you be mad if… if we shrink the possibilities that you have?”
You blink, looking at him confused, “What? No. Not at all. I can get through seven years of abstinence. Although I’m gonna get you outta there so much sooner anyway.”
Jisung doesn’t want to jinx it so he decides to ignore that second part of you fighting for his freedom.
However, he needs to elaborate on his boundaries first.
“Not that extreme. With Minho, it’s fine. I think you’ve noticed earlier,” he chuckles, “if you wanna… do things with Hyunjin or any of the other members don’t hold back either. There’s just two things on my mind.”
He catches his lower lip between his teeth, anxiety capturing him once again.
“This is a safe space,” you remind your husband, before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Whatever it is, we will find a solution.”
Jisung nods, closing his eyes in the process. He feels like the biggest ass for even getting jealous of someone else. But it isn’t just someone. It’s a man that has probably done you more wrong than right but you don’t seem to realise that yet.
“Okay… the first thing is… well, Chan,” he starts, watching your facial expression. “I know you are best friends and super close but I’d be very grateful if you would not… you know, do anything physical with him.”
His voice is so quiet now. Even quieter than before.
“Sungie…” you start, pulling him into a tight hug, “no need to discuss this further. I didn’t plan on doing anything with him anyway.”
Your words enter his ear all softly, making his heartbeat decrease a little.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” you continue, “we got into a fight right before the wedding and I think the friendship ended right there.”
You really didn’t wanna bother your husband with this. Especially not on your wedding day. But it’s probably important that he knows.
“Fuck, do you wanna talk about it?”
You shake your head no, “I don’t wanna waste a single second on thinking about him. Certainly not tonight.”
Jisung can’t hold back a smirk. He once again can’t believe that you chose him. Fuck. You decided to marry him. You’re his wife. This is so freaking insane, he won’t believe it in a hundred years.
Maybe with that fact in mind he will get through his time in jail.
Your eyes find his own again, when you add, “But even apart from what happened, even without you telling me, I figured that I wouldn’t do that. I don’t even want to anyway.”
He feels so relieved. Jisung is so glad you could talk things out. And so easily. Communication is always the key, he knows that, but still he gets a little anxious from time to time when it’s about his vulnerabilities.
“Okay. Thank you,” he lets out.
“No need to thank me, Sungie. I’m your wife, remember? I’m loyal and all,” you say, playfully clicking your tongue.
He giggles, “Good.”
“What was the second thing?”
Oh. He remembers now. There’s another thing he wanted to talk about in that matter.
Okay. He can do this. You reacted perfectly when it came to the Chan situation so it probably won’t be an issue to add something else, right? Despite that, it’s something that should be obvious anyway but your husband just wants to make sure that you have the same view on a certain topic.
“Ah… right. Uhm… we’ve never talked about it but we are on the same page that this only includes physical stuff, right? I’m fine with you sleeping with Minho or whoever because I know that you love me and no one else, okay?”
You smile at him. This is no surprise at all and although you’ve never explicitly discussed it, you knew that this type of freedom he grants you stops where actual feelings with another person get involved.
“We’re on the same page, I promise,” you tell him. “We’ve been on the same page this whole time, I can reassure you.”
Although you had feelings for Chan back then when Jisung and you weren’t official, they vanished that night in their headquarters. You’ve known since then and his behaviour earlier right before your wedding was just the cherry on top. Your best friend is a walking red flag but apparently you’ve been colour blind for too long.
Or well. Just doing what you’re best at. Trying to find the slightest ounce of goodness in people who treat you wrong. You wouldn’t define Chan as evil. You know where his toxic behaviour is coming from although this doesn’t excuse shit, for sure. But at some point you have to prioritise yourself, you have to prioritise the marriage with Jisung and the fact he wanted to get between that is enough for you to hopefully finally let go.
After all, he did that out of pure jealousy, right?
Well, Chan had a different reason this time. But no one believes a liar, even if they tell the truth. Your former best friend actually saw a red flag in Jisung and Minho, thinking of the fact that they seem to want to put the blame on Chan for C.Drugs. But you won’t find out about that. At least not for now.
Jisung brings you back to presence, when you feel his soft lips pressed against your cheek.
“I love you so much, princess,” he says, his eyes getting filled with water.
The tears start running down your face then, you can’t hold back.
“I love you too, baby,” you say in between sniffles. “Everything is gonna be alright, I promise, yeah?”
Jisung starts crying too, when he sees you like this. You’re miserable and it’s all his fault, so all he can let out is a small ‘okay’, nothing more. 
“Do you trust me, Sungie?” you ask him, making sure he’s looking right at you.
“I-I do. I trust you,” he hastily tells you.
“Good,” you reply. “Shall we go to sleep then?”
“One last time…”
“Don’t say it like that,” you interrupt him.
“… for now.”
You chuckle. Your husband seals your lips with a gentle kiss, hoping to dream about you every night for the rest of his life.
“Alright,” you say, after letting go again. “Good night, my prince.”
“Good night, my princess.”
💊
You wake up in the middle of the night, perhaps from your dry throat. Making sure to not wake the slumbering man beside you, you try your best to make no noises while getting up and actually succeed.
When you enter the living room, Minho is still awake, doing some stuff on his computer as he’s sitting on the couch.
“Are you okay, kitten?” he asks, not turning around while he speaks.
“Yeah. Just need a glass of water, then I’ll go back to sleep,” you inform him while you make your way to the kitchen.
“Alright,” he hums, not paying that much attention since he’s quite busy with doing God knows what kind of illegal shit this time.
The cold liquid hits the back of your sore throat, making you feel a little better again. You place the empty glass in the dishwasher before you say goodnight to Minho and get back to your bedroom.
Sinking down on the soft cushion again, Jisung is still fast asleep, luckily. He’ll need it.
You brush the tear that’s rolling down your cheeks away, as you watch his calm breathing.
Until your phone lights up that is currently placed on your nightstand table. You grab the device, almost letting it fall to the marble floor when you read the message.
[Anonymous, 01:43]: Congrats on getting married. You were so so close but yet you’re so far to finding out the truth. You’ll never find the real criminal behind C.Drugs if you keep looking in the wrong places. I’ll just keep hiding behind another one’s personality anyway, perhaps being closer than you believe. — C.
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❤️ AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my dears!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. but I am back now with it and the remaining two chapters of this season will be posted in the next two weeks. if you liked this chapter, please remember to interact with it by commenting, reblogging or sending asks. it would mean the world to me. i love you all and thank you for being here :)
© j-0ne25 2023-2024 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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steph-speaks · 8 months
Note
Hi. I have a brain worm, Like a Stone by Audioslave and Billy Hargrove. Like, something with the vibe of the song. I hope you're doing well and hoping any of this makes sense 😅
I'll Wait For You There
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Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,500
Warnings: Major angst but it gets better at the end! Mentions of panic attacks.
Author's Note: It's official, brain worm is my new favorite phrase lmao. Love you! <3 Sorry this took so long btw.
Summary: Despite all the progress he's made, Billy still has trouble believing you want him.
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When he gets in his head, on the bad nights, all he wants to do is be close to you. But tonight you have a closing shift at Daisy’s Diner, and you’re not here to recognize the signs that he’s caving in, blaming himself. He used to cut himself off from everyone when he had bad days like this, hiding himself in his closet and covering his head with his arms, but you’ve slowly managed to convince him to do the opposite—to talk about it—and that isolation would just make it worse. 
It’s reminiscent of how you found him, that first night you brought him a piece of El’s birthday cheesecake. You didn’t know at the time, but he had been sitting on the floor in the living room of the trailer, nerves alight with anxiety and fear. He’d felt like bolting out the door, and after being crouched down for close to a half hour, his muscles tense and aching, he nearly did. He was nearly hyperventilating with how fast he was panting, head pounding from the lack of oxygen. 
And then he hears the knock at the door, and everything stops. He lifts his head, and somehow he expects the door to open, expects the Flayed version of himself to be on the other side.
It doesn’t open, and there’s a second round of knocks. He swallows the bile in his throat and stands, swaying on his feet. He peeks through the door and sees you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. That was the beginning of things between you, when he opened that door. He’s glad he did. 
But now, after coming home from his shift at the pool and crashing for a nap, he wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s pitch black outside his window, and the blinking red numbers on his bedside clock read 10:43.
He tries to calm himself down by taking a shower, but he still hears the lingering words that woke him up in the first place. 
I see you, Billy. 
He grits his teeth and swipes his wet curls out of his face. 
You can’t escape me.
It’s his voice that echoes in his mind, and that’s the worst part of all, that he can’t distinguish between his true self and the Flayer’s version. 
But there’s a second voice in his head, too, and this one doesn’t belong to him either. 
It’s okay. It says gently. Take a deep breath for me. 
A sob of relief escapes him, the only sound besides the water hitting the shower floor. 
I’m right here. 
He can feel tears escaping the corners of his eyes, mingling with the water dripping from his hair and onto his face. He takes a shaky breath, hand on the tiled wall to steady himself. He exhales slowly as he pictures the time you said those words. He was in the middle of a panic attack, having found a bundle of rope in your garage next to some leftover roofing material from when you needed a repair. It was innocent enough in its neat little roll, but it made him think of Heather and her parents, and what he had done to them. He’d dropped the roll like it had burned him, and you had found him curled in on himself as he cried in the middle of the garage floor. 
You had held him, whispering quiet words of reassurance and comfort, enough for him to focus on and ground himself in the moment. It wasn’t the only time you’d guided him through an episode, as he called them, though he’d noticed they were becoming fewer and farther between since you started dating. Still, despite that, there were days like this one where it just hit him, full force. There could be a trigger, or it could just be sheer exhaustion, like now. 
While he gets dressed, he replays the various things you’ve said to him during his panic attacks. It’s late but he knows he won’t be able to sleep until he sees you, so he gets in his car and drives to the diner, his hair still damp and occasionally dripping on the collar of his dark shirt. He ignores it in his haste to get there before you leave for the night and go to your place. 
When he pulls up, he sees you wiping down table tops while a co-worker flips the chairs over and rests them on the tables you’ve already cleaned. You look happy but tired from the long shift, and although Billy really wants to go in and pull you in his arms, he knows the door’s probably been locked already, so he flashes his lights before he shuts the car off so you can see it’s his. You look out of the big windows, your face lighting up as you wave. He raises his fingers from the wheel and softens with fond amusement as you rush to finish your side tasks. You help put up the rest of the chairs while the other lady grabs a broom and dustpan, waving you off for the night. 
You come out with your bag slung over one shoulder and make a beeline for the Camaro, slipping in as smooth as butter to press a kiss to Billy’s lips. He instantly brings a hand to cradle your face, surrendering to your gentle movements in a way that he only does when he needs something from you. You pull back and he’s slow to open his eyes, but it’s there. The sadness, the self-doubt. It breaks your fucking heart every time you see it. 
“Oh baby,” You murmur, your own hand coming up to pet his curls away from his face. “Why don’t I drive back to my place and you can spend the night?” You press a gentle kiss on his forehead and don’t give him a choice as you get back out of the car, your hand lingering on his back as he passes you to switch seats. You turn the engine over, keys jingling in place. He clenches his jaw as the tears come back with a vengeance. 
He hates how weak he feels in this moment—knows a certain someone would’ve called him a pussy for crying and running to his girlfriend, but he also loves you all the more for knowing what he needs in order to feel better. He tries covering his mouth to muffle his gasps that get louder and louder, but you gently reach over and take his hand away, squeezing his fingers with your smaller ones. He sobs and presses them to his chest, curling over your hand protectively, as if he’s afraid you’ll take it away. 
You will yourself to stay strong as his entire body jostles when he hiccups, but it’s hard. You hate hearing him in pain but you can’t do much while you’re behind the wheel—
You feel a lightbulb go off and look in your rearview mirror. Seeing no one behind you—which is normal for this time of night—you spot a place that you can pull over without being too conspicuous. When you coax Billy to lean over the console, he tucks his face into your shoulder and hangs onto you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. 
Amidst his sobs, you make out words that you’ve heard from him before. 
“You deserve better,” He chokes out, voice raw. “Why are you still here?”
You press your lips to his hairline, to his forehead and his cheeks that are wet with hot tears. He’s burning up from the exertion of crying, both his eyes and face are red. 
“Stop,” He tries to dissuade you but you persist, kissing every inch of his face that you can. “Tired of y-you being stuck, waiting on me.”
“Never.” You swear as you kiss his swollen lips. “I’ll never, ever stop. You hear me?”
He hiccups when you make him look at you. “I will always wait for you, Billy. You say I deserve better, but you are my better. Okay?”
He sniffles, nodding wordlessly as you smooth his hair away from his face. “I’m gonna get us home, just sit tight for me. We’re almost there, baby.”
When you get home, you call your boss and tell him you have a family emergency that requires you to go out of town tomorrow, so you can stay with Billy while he recuperates. He tries to protest but can’t find the words to. He ends up clutching onto you the entire night he’s in your bed, head laying on your chest and your fingers running through his hair.  Hearing your heartbeat, smelling your lingering shampoo—just being close to you calms him down. A part of him feels bad, sure, but the other part of him feels eternally grateful that he got lucky enough to even be with you. It’s like the universe sent him an angel, made just for him.
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matthyeu · 5 months
Text
tim hortons ― smt.
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pairing ⇢ seok matthew x gn!reader
genre ⇢ comedy, fluff
warnings ⇢ this was just self-indulgence as you will see </3, mentions of a car crash but nothing happened lol
word count ⇢ 1377
synopsis ⇢ this is how matthew's life would be if he didn't get 3rd place on boy's planet. hey, at least he met you.
notes ⇢ HEYYY GUESS WHOS BACK,,, well not really i’m just like popping back in after the comeback bc like WOWWW but hi i’ve been really stressed back in school doing a lot of exams and applications for nursing school. i just finished my teas and like the semester’s almost over so i’m so STRESSED AAAAAA and this has been in my drafts for so long bc yk i’m just manifesting myself getting into nursing school but i will def try to get more uploaded soon but i’m always tired from work and school eueueu got some drafts tho so i’m hoping to get that done soon. take care!!
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perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get an early start to studying for your pharmacology exam. not, it definitely wasn’t the best idea. every professor had always told you to review and study more than you thought you needed, so you tried your best to do just that. it was just that one confused topic led to another…and then to another until you realized it was nearing two. 
late nights were no stranger for a nursing student, but they were not recommended if you had plans for the morning after, especially if the morning after was your weekly 12-hour long clinical rotation. 
that was how you ended up with two and a half hours of sleep, a frantically thrown together lunch, missing materials, and a need for caffeine after you overslept your alarm by twenty minutes. you cursed your ability to sleep through alarms but also thanked yourself for setting alarms every five minutes in case this ever happened. 
the facility you were stationed at was a little over an hour from your apartment, so you would barely make it in time. there was realistically no time for you to stop by for coffee. usually, you would just make your own, but your unfortunate luck continued to prosper as you had forgotten to purchase more instant coffee in your last grocery run. however, seeing as how you nearly fell asleep behind the wheel the first ten minutes of your drive, you knew you needed it. if you died in a car crash, there was definitely no chance for you to make it to your clinical on time. 
you pulled into the parking lot at the tim hortons nearest to your apartment, seeing only one other car there who you assumed belonged to whatever employee was on opening duty. it was only 4:43. this location opened at 5. if you waited for it to open, you would definitely be late. even if you had just told yourself it was alright to be late, you were sure your instructor would not be pleased if you were, especially since this was an obstacle you could potentially get over. 
reluctantly, you shuffled your feet to the entrance, not worrying if you would wear the soles of your white shoes quicker than they were supposed to last. you didn’t want to bother the poor worker, but it was your only choice besides sitting in your car waiting for 17 minutes, which was definitely not practical. 
reaching the entrance, you peered in to see a young man diligently preparing for the day. you figured he would be far too busy to notice you (or it was just your excuse to walk back to your car and wait). still, mustered up the courage to wave at him from outside, refraining from knocking on the glass. 
by some dumb luck, he noticed you and came to the door from around the counter. he gave an apologetic smile as he opened the door, popping his head out. “sorry, we aren’t open yet.”
“actually, i was wondering if you could make an exception. i have to be at the hospital in an hour and it’s an hour drive from here,” you explained as you fidgeted with your watch. 
“oh definitely i can do that for you. that hospital must need you as soon as you can get there,” he commented as he opened the door wider for you to come in.
“oh no, they do not need me. yesterday i put on my sterile gloves wrong 4 times because of nervousness. if anything, they hope i’m not there,” you casually blurted out, which caused the employee to give you a concerned look. “i’m a nursing student, not a licensed healthcare provider. everyone always thinks of nurse or doctor when they see someone in scrubs, but i’m just a stressed person in college trying to get through.” 
“ah, makes sense. i thought you looked young to be finished with school already, but i didn’t want to say anything in case it was offensive,” he commented once you both were at the register, “what can i get for you?” 
“just a medium iced latte please,” you ordered as you dug through your wallet for the right card. 
“go ahead and insert your card whenever you’re ready.” 
and you did just that, receiving the receipt from the employee once the transaction was over. “it will be out shortly.” 
there wasn’t much for you to do but stand off to the side as you watched him work. as time went by, there was something familiar about him you couldn’t catch. it was as if you had seen him from somewhere, but the only places you really frequented were the library and hospitals. was it from tv? 
“here you go,” he announced as he slid the cup over the counter. 
as he was about to head back to finishing his preparations, you took a sip of your latte. with the newfound courage taken over you by the caffeine, your thoughts spilled out of your mouth. “do i know you from somewhere?” 
he chucked. “no, i don’t think you have. if so, it was a long time ago since i just got back to canada.”  
“you have a celebrity lookalike or something? i swear i’ve seen your face somewhere before,” you asked. 
“ever heard of boys planet?” 
then it hit you. you looked at his nametag. matthew. of course, he was the canadian from that korean reality show one of your friends had shown you. in fact, she begged for you to help her vote, and she was devastated when her one-pick didn’t make the group. and here he was, standing in front of you at tim hortons. 
“ohhh that makes a lot of sense. my friend had me voting every day for you when the show was airing. interesting seeing you working here. totally thought you’d continue trying to be an idol if you didn’t make the lineup.” 
“i missed home too much, i guess. i had it planned out during the finale too, the part time job i’d get if i didn’t make it. didn’t think i’d actually end up at timmies, but alas, things happen. thanks for your support though.” 
“don’t thank me,” you insisted, “i’m just an unsuspecting victim to desperate fans who wanted the best for their faves.” 
“i think that’s the best feeling though, meeting someone who doesn’t really care about what you’ve done or who you are. you’re the first person who’s actually recognized me, and i’m glad it’s not someone who would leak this information. though, i’m sure it will spread eventually.” 
you finally noticed what he was doing throughout the conversation: packaging a 10-count box of timbits. “here,” he called as he pushed yet another item over the counter, “on the house.” 
shaking your head, you quickly responded, “no i can’t.” 
“trust me, you’re going to need the boost of energy from the sugar for your shift. just take it, or else you’ll be late.” 
“oh shit,” you cursed, realizing you had spent too much time in the shop already, “fine, but i’ll be back and next time, i’m going to buy something for you to enjoy.” 
“mhm good luck!” 
you ran back to your car, relieved you decided to come in when you did when you saw a plethora of cars pulling in with two minutes until opening. the coffee was placed into the cupholder and the box onto your passenger seat. 
before beginning your long drive to your impending doom, you decided to have one of the timbits matthew had given you. that was when you noticed the small message written on the top of the box. 
good luck! you’re doing great things for the world :) come back anytime! i always open on fridays and will take you after 4:30. 
you smiled at the little note, popping one of the pieces into your mouth. it tasted way better than timbit you had ever had. you weren’t sure if that was just because they were fresh in the morning or the care you knew was packed into them. needless to say, you would wake up a little earlier on your fridays to go back to this location to see matthew. 
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dramioneasks · 1 month
Note
Hello! Do you have recommendations for fics where Draco holds Hermione in captivity but to protect her or because he secretly loves her (he doesn’t want to hurt her) ? I really loved “The auction” and “Fire” by sycadelex. Thank out in advance for all recs! ^^
Secrets and Masks - Emerald_Slytherin - E, 75 chapters, Words: 465,554 - 9 years after the battle of Hogwarts, the war still rages on and everyone is much changed since their days at Hogwarts. Hermione is the most lethal soldier in The Order, spending her days on rescue missions to free captured Muggleborn slaves and fight on the front line. For years, she’s been meeting in secret with a spy within Voldemort’s ranks to exchange information. But, when she’s captured and made prisoner at Malfoy Manor,  of all the dark and evil ways she’d envisioned Malfoy would torture her, she never quite imagined anything this horrific. (I just wanted to make it abundantly clear that I was originally inspired to write this fic after I read the masterpiece that is Manacled, so I would like to thank SenLinYu for her amazing work! The memory searching aspect of  Manacled is what inspired me, and although I have adapted that, (and also made Draco head Death Eater, because… ya know… we all love it when he’s Voldemort’s right hand man 😅😉), Secrets and Masks will be a very very different fic all together.)
Captured - HiraethsHome - M, 44 chapters, Words: 175,704 - Hermione will do anything to save those she loves, including giving herself over to the Death Eaters as prisoner. But when Draco abducts her in an effort to bait Harry Potter and return to the Dark Lord’s good graces, they’re both surprised to find that while neither can give the other what they want, maybe they’ll be able to find what they need.
Resolve by MeropeReads - E, 42 chapters, Words: 175,309  - Harry Potter is dead. Hermione finds herself once again taken prisoner at Malfoy Manor- only this time, the young heir could not stand by and do nothing. Acting on impulse, Draco hides Hermione within the manor under the nose of the other death eaters. Keeping her as his secret, he struggles to find a way to help her escape without getting them both killed, and she plots to find a way to take down the death eaters from within. Slow(ish) burn Dramione taking place right after Harry loses the final battle of Hogwarts. I hope this story finds it way to people who love the couple as much as I do, and to people who are giving Dramione a chance for the first time. Thank you for reading!
Malfoy Manor gone wrong By: Miamii - T, 43 chapters, Words: 119,682 - Dobby’s rescue mission wasn’t as successful as one hoped. Ron can’t free Hermione before the Dark Lord arrives and has to flee without her. Hermione is left at Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord and his absurd ideas of punishment for the Malfoys for Potters escape. This story follows the storyline of the book up till chapter “Malfoy Manor” in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Left Behind by Lifespassion - M, WIP - When the chandelier crashes down at the Malfoy mansion Dobby apparates without one member of the group: Hermione. Suddenly Draco finds himself doing things he never imagined just to try and keep her alive. “What if?” scenario SLOW-BURN DRAMIONE. Dark-edged love story. Rated M: Full trigger warning Within. (UNDER REViSION)
Manor of Conception by psiphifan - E, 25 chapters - For not identifying Harry, Ron and Hermione at the manor when they are kidnapped by snatchers, Malfoy must serve his punishment in the strangest of ways. This shame will forever haunt him and the Malfoy name forever. The new relationship that develops is not what anyone expects, however.WARNING: Detailed depiction of rape in the second chapter. Please do not read if this bothers you. You have been warned (I hate to say it, but it’s been categorized as such.)
Broken Chainsby Leave it at that - M, 16 chapters - After Ron and Harry fail to rescue her from Bellatrix, Hermione is trapped in Malfoy Manor. Now she has to face Voldemort alone, but is she completely alone? Suddenly she is bonded to Draco. Then Draco and Hermione wind up somewhere they never imagined they’d be- bonded for life. Set during DH. EWE.
I Need You by DarkEyedDreamer - E, WIP - Hermione was unable to escape Malfoy Manor, and it seems the Death Eaters have a very specific plan for her to end the war. Until then, she’s left in Draco’s care. But the Death Eater himself is a little wary towards his cause, and Hermione is very convincing.
Blood Red By: Fluticorns - T, 29 chapters - When the golden trio is taken to The Malfoy Manor they make a desperate escape, forcing them to leave Hermione behind. After almost a month will Draco decide to save her or send her back to the dungeon? A Dramione! DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Harry Potter. You can check my wallet I have all of ten dollars to my name.
-Lisa
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amsgrey · 2 years
Text
Big Brother Hugs
Will Halstead x sister!reader
synopsis: After a particularly bad day, you seek out your eldest brother for a hug.
warnings: depression, mention of depression like symptoms, description about depressive thoughts, not proofread and generally mediocre writing.
Authors note (PLS READ): Modeled off my own experience with depression, hopefully this isn't too triggering for others but i do want to stress that if this could trigger you to please not read. Tried to avoid any in detail descriptions of anything past emotions.
If you are struggling with Depression or any mental illnesses pls reach out to someone, there is no shame in doing so. It will get better and you will find yourself again.
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Having a doctor and a cop as a brother usually meant they weren't around all of the time. You didn't really mind, they loved their jobs and you loved them. However it did mean that when you needed them they couldn't always make it.
Your day at school had gone about as well as you expected that morning, absolutely terribly. Every period it was like the workload grew and your energy diminished. When you finally got home you abandoned your bag in the entryway and headed straight for your bed. Lately it had felt as if every day was harder than the last, getting up in the morning had become near intolerable. You couldn't go to your brothers, they were busy with their own things and the last thing they needed was their little sister demanding attention.
You pulled back your duvet, revealing the tangle of blankets and sheets underneath that you hadn't tidied that morning. Jay was strict on keeping every part of the apartment orderly and tidy, which meant making your bed every time you got up. Today you had just pulled up the duvet and made it look tidy to save the effort. You climbed under the covers, pulling the blankets up to your chin and trying to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to crash into you like a tsunami. The weight of the day started to pull on you more, drawing you into a drowsy state. Just as you closed your eyes to sleep your phone buzzed.
Detective Chuckles
'Hey kid, won't be home til late. Don't wait up.'
You didn't bother replying, stuffing your phone under your pillow and closing your eyes again. Maybe the world wouldn't be so daunting if you just took a nap.
When you woke up the sky outside your window was dark, the entire apartment was cold and eerily quiet. You fished around for your phone, nearly blinding yourself as you checked the time. 6:43.
You lay there just staring at your phone for a moment, you didn't feel well rested or any better about your situation. You just felt like you had wasted time for nothing. Tears stung your eyes, this was stupid. You had nothing to feel bad about, everything was practically fine. You held your breath as you forced yourself into the bathroom, grabbing a face cloth and soaking it to clean your face of the running mascara and hot tears. You could faintly see yourself in the mirror despite the lack of light. Your face was red and puffy, it was clear you had been crying. You stared down at the basin, trying to calm yourself down but to no avail. You had to get out of here. Being alone felt like the entire world was silent, waiting, waiting for you to do something regrettable.
You tried not to sob as you made your way back to your room, pulling on your shoes and retrieving your phone. You walked through the apartment to Hailey and Jays room, pulling open the drawers until you found one of Jays old hoodies. You slipped it over your head,it was far too long on you, you had to bunch the cuffs up at your wrist to be able to use your hands but you didn't care. You just wanted to wear something comfortable and big. You grabbed the keys from where you chucked them in our bag and made your way out of the apartment.
As you made your way out of the building you contemplated going to the precinct to see Jay, but if he was staying late it meant they hd a big case and they were busy. Instead, you walked to the closest subway entrance and headed towards Med. Going to see Will meant he would try doctor you, but he gave the best hugs and it was exactly what you needed right now. And waiting in the doctors lounge in the busy ED sounded a lot better than lying alone in the dark at home.
When you got off the subway and headed towards Med, it had started raining. Normally you welcomed the rain, but tonight it felt like the world had a personal vendetta against you. You could have sworn the forecast had said it wasn't meant to rain this week. You walked into the ED waiting room and waved half heartedly to Leah at the reception desk. She looked busy but nodded a hello and didn't stop you as you walked through the doors.
The ED was always busy, tonight was no different. When you approached the front desk you waited out of the way for Maggie to spot you.
"Hey, Mini Halstead," She smiled, you could tell she was studying your puffy face. She put down the phone in her hands and ushered you behind the desk, pulling you closer. "What's wrong?"
You had to take a deep breath to stop from crying gain, you shrugged, "Nothing really." You mumbled.
Maggie frowned, "Doesn't look like nothing," She gently wrapped her arm around your shoulders.
You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands, forcing yourself to take a moment before talking.
"Can you tell Will I'm here when he gets a second?" You finally managed to get out.
Maggie nodded, "Of course," She guided you through the ED and opened the doctors lounge door for you. She told you to wait there while she told Will and that as soon as he had a moment he would come see you.
The doctors lounge was considerably more quiet than the ED just through the door. You sat down on the couch and pulled out your phone, there were no messages from anyone but you made yourself busy by scrolling through it anyway. After about 20 minutes, Will entered the lounge. He had a look of concern written over his face. He knew that you only ever came to the hospital to see him if it was important. You hated hospitals.
"Hey squirt," He walked into the room, taking off his stethoscope and leaving it on the table. You didn't wait for him to say something else, just got to your feet and wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Will immediately hugged you back, rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly as you cried into his shirt. He didn't say anything, just held you as you cried and soothed you until you were ready to talk.
When you pulled away he gently tucked your hair out of your face, wiping the tears off your cheeks and waiting patiently for you to meet his eyes.
When you did, he smiled softly and asked, "What's the matter, Y/N?"
You took a shaky inhale, "I don't know," you told him, "I just needed a hug from my big brother."
Will looked compassionate, he drew you back into a hug and held you a little tighter. "Is Jay not home?"
"No," You replied, "Him and Hailey are working late."
Will nodded, unwrapping his arms and leading you back to the couch. He sat you down and walked to the fridge, returning with a bottle of water. He cracked off the lid before handing it to you and quietly ordering you to take a drink.
He sighed, rubbing your back and looking concerned.
"Sorry for bothering you," You mumbled, unable to look at him.
"No," Will argued, "You aren't bothering me, okay? I'm happy you came."
You nodded, not really believing what he said.
"Have you eaten?" He asked, starting to merge from worried big brother to worried doctor.
You shook your head, telling him how you got home and fell asleep then came right here.
"Okay," He took a moment to think, "I get off at 8, in about half an hour, can you wait that long? We can grab Pizza and watch a movie or something, yeah?"
You nodded, relaxing back into the couch and making yourself comfortable to wait for him to get off. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before leaving the lounge with a promise he would try get away a little earlier. You couldn't find the energy to return to scrolling through your phone, just staring at the wall and trying to stay awake while you waited for Will. He returned just before 8, grabbing his stuff from his locker and pulling you to his side as you both walked to his car.
"I love you, squirt," He said, smiling at you as you walked, "Anytime you need a hug you can come find me, yeah?"
You smiled, "Yeah. I love you too."
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space-mermaid-writing · 3 months
Text
Wednesday [IronStrange]
Summary:Tony fights Strange and his weird wizards on a regular basis. So when he is woken up by Jarvis and being told Strange is sitting in his kitchen, waiting to talk to him, Tony just knows that something is not right. What he does not know yet is that it will be a string of very long days.
Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Tags: enemies to lovers, time loop, time shenanigans, hero/villain, hero Tony Stark, villain Stephen Strange, morally gray Stephen Strange, being a villain is a point of view, protecting the timeline, suicide but it has no consequences whatsoever, open ending, hopeful ending, Stephen needs a hug, Stephen and the never ending day, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, all the stuff you love
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 4.5k | Next
Author’s note: This is for @Hayan for the IronStrange Winter Holidays Exchange 2023 @ironstrangehaven Massive thanks to @rattledazzlebones for doing the beta in a short amount of time <3 New chapters every 2-3 days. 7 chapters in total. Happy Holidays!
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Chapter 1: "Sir, Doctor Strange has appeared in your kitchen."
It should have been a quiet night for the Avengers. Their presence at the fundraising gala was purely for PR reasons to get people to donate more. And for once it was for a really good cause.
It was why Tony was even more annoyed than usual when some sorcerers – who made his life already harder on a daily basis – crashed the party. After causing some disruption, they promptly attacked the host.
Tony, Steve and Natasha had their hands full keeping the magic ninja monks at bay while the visitors got evacuated.
Tony blasted one of his strongest beams right at the leader of the sorcerers, who threw up a shield at the last second.
“That's all you've got?" Strange taunted, hovering in the air with that stupid cape of his. His black hair was brushed back, except for a single lock that'd fallen down the middle of his forehead. He was gray at the temples and still managed to keep his youthfulness.
He was everything Tony hated. Magic… yeah that was it. It didn’t help that he was also an attractive and snarky asshole on top of it all.
Tony dodged the spell thrown at him, but didn't have time to catch his breath as Strange closed in on him.
This game of cat and mouse between them was nothing unusual and sometimes Tony lived under the impression that Strange was enjoying it far too much. This annoyed the engineer all the more.
Despite what the wizard may have thought; this wasn't a game. Actual people getting hurt were at stake.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to show up at a party you were clearly not invited to, Maleficent?” Tony growled.
Strange was up close now, moving his hands for another spell. Tony managed to grab his cape and yanked at it in order to hurl the man through the air. But the cape latched onto his armor and refused to let go.
Yeah, he forgot about that.
God, he hated magic so much.
__________________ A few days later__________________
Tony woke up to the voice of Jarvis announcing: “Sir, Doctor Strange has appeared in your kitchen.”
Tony opened his eyes wide. "What?" He was sure he had misheard or that Jarvis was joking with him. Only he knew that Jarvis would never make a joke like that. It was too absurd for his usually dry humor, similar to Tony’s own.
“He is sitting at the table and said he won’t leave until you talk to him. He said it’s urg-…”
Before the A.I. had spoken, Tony had already jumped out of bed and hurried off.
“Calibrate Mark 43.”
“Already on stand-by, waiting for your command.”
Jarvis was great.
Tony slowed his steps as he approached the kitchen. Strange had nerves to break into his home. He changed the smart watch he always wore into a gauntlet. With his suit as backup and Jarvis to watch his back he felt safe enough. This was his terrain and Strange would regret the day he intruded into his sacred home.
Tony stopped short in the open doorway.
Strange was indeed sitting at the table, his hands resting on the top of the table. He was wearing his blue robes and that weird red 'it's a cloak' cape. He looked… surprisingly tired, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was tangled, as if he hadn't paid attention to it after getting up and hadn't even looked in the mirror once.
It wasn't what Tony had expected. Still, he wasn't stupid enough to let his guard down and his gauntlet was still pointed at him.
“Hello Stark,” the sorcerer greeted him neutrally. His face almost blank. Tony thought that the man wasn’t acting wary enough for someone who was currently sitting in his arch-nemesis’ home.
“Strange; you look like shit. What are you doing here?”
There was the hint of a smile on the sorcerer’s lips. “I need your help. I’m stuck in a time loop and we believe that part of it is a science problem. And you’re the best man to solve a science problem.”
“Funny, haha. There, I laughed. Now leave.”
Strange didn’t move an inch. “We did various scans and readings of me and the Eye of Agamotto. You used a project named ‘back to the hot tub time machine’ as reference, but only five percent of it applies to this situation.”
Now Tony was one-hundred percent suspicious. “How do you know about that project? That’s classified information!” It was stored in Jarvis' database and Jarvis was anything but hackable. And he would never give this data out just like that. Especially not the sorcerer. And, “Who is ‘we’?”
“This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation. You and I have been working together on this problem for a few weeks. Well, for me it’s been weeks. You don’t remember anything.”
“Prove it,” Tony demanded.
Strange sighed and stood up with Tony following his movements with his weapon. “I appeared in your kitchen because it’s the safest place for me, without having your A.I. or you shooting me on sight. By the way, before we start working, you will offer me a coffee.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “In eight seconds you will get a call from your lawyers regarding the launch of a Stark hearing pro aid. 3… 2… 1…”
Jarvis spoke up again. “Incoming call from Pearson and Specter.”
“Tell them I’ll call them back.” “Tell them I’ll call them back.”
Tony and Strange spoke at the same time and Tony glared at the sorcerer. Strange didn’t seem to be perturbed about it and continued his case. “But this won’t be enough proof for you. You want something more personal. We spoke of this before and you told me to tell you: camellia flowers. They were your Mom’s favorite.”
The engineer stared at him. He was good. Tony was almost inclined to believe him. It was a clever piece of information he had offered him. Something barely anyone would know but nothing that the sorcerer could use against him.It got Tony thinking.
“So if this is true – and that’s a really big ‘if’ – have you tried to check your magic? It sounds like a magic type of problem.”
“Please believe me when I tell you that I checked that thoroughly.” There was a haunted look in Strange’s eyes, adding a deeper tiredness to the already present one. “You suspect an exceptional phenomenon in the plane of time, presumably the fourth dimension, as it is often called." At least by those who had never been to the actual fourth dimension. It lay exactly between the seventh dimension and the blue shadow dimension, and some sorcerers liked to use it as a small vacation destination. "So far the scans have revealed nothing, although you made some groundbreaking observations regarding the scientific view of time. You said, ‘it’s not an arrow of time but more like a moebius strip’. Oh, and you and I also checked if other people are affected by the loop – so far we found none.”
Tony was definitely hooked now and finally lowered his arm. He didn’t think Strange was an expert on the engineering science front and those sounded all like things he would consider in such a case.Hell, people with superpowers were real, so why not time repeating itself?
“Alright, let’s say I believe you and will help you. What-…”
“We agreed that you can keep all the data you collect. Plus an I owe you from me. No limits as long as it’s safe for the fate of the universe.”
“That’s quite the-…”
“Promise. Yes, I know. I desperately want Wednesday to end.”
Tony scoffed, kinda irritated by the sorcerer’s behavior. He was known for and proud of his fast mind but this was a lot to take in and he had been woken barely ten minutes ago. “You know this-…”
“Interrupting and ending sentences is annoying? I’m trying to save some time here. Can we move on?”
“After I’ve had a coffee,” he muttered, making a beeline to the machine Jarvis had already gotten started on the kitchen counter. He needed his first cup before he continued this conversation. This was too much Strange at once. An especially annoying Strange.
“D’you want one too?” He didn't know why he was even asking. It wasn't like he had to be polite to someone he normally fought with and who had just broken into his kitchen. He had spoken the words before thinking about them and was just now realizing that another thing Strange had said earlier had come true: 'Before we start working, you're going to offer me a coffee’.
Strange seemed to realize what he was thinking, because there was a small smirk on his lips. “Actually, I prefer tea. And before you say anything: you do have some chai in the back of that cupboard. Miss Potts stored it there once. By the way, you have a meeting scheduled with her at 11, which you should cancel or she won’t be pleased and make an appearance. Same goes with the boy that drops by after school.”
Tony, who had taken a look into the pointed cupboard and had actually found tea there, whipped around, his gaze sharp. “You met Peter?”
“You made it very clear from the beginning that you don’t want to pull him into this. Hence why I tell you it.”
It sounded logical. Tony couldn’t argue with it. “J, clear the day. We have to fix a groundhog day.” He eyed the sorcerer. “If this is an elaborate plan to isolate me to dispose of me quietly, I’ll have you know that Jarvis has an advanced offense and defense mechanism.”
Strange’s face sobered up like he was having an unpleasant memory. “I am aware,” he said in earnest.
To be honest, after hearing this threat a hundred times, it lost its effect. But he had experienced first-hand what Jarvis was capable of. And that hadn’t been nice.
By now he knew what he could get away with in Tony's presence. Whether the man liked it or not, he had gotten to know Tony well in his time trapped in this repeating day. His quirks.And what ticked him off.
If anything, Stephen had to be careful not to get too personal and too familiar with him. This was still the first day for Stark.
It was always the first day.
In his eyes, Stephen was still the enemy. It was tiring in its own way. But Stephen was sure that he was the answer to his problem. He felt it. At least he thought he felt something else other than just resignation and stagnation.
A cup of tea was placed in front of him and he realized he had spaced out. "Thank you."
Ton-… Stark deliberately ignored it and put more space between them again. “Let’s start. We have… how long until the day resets?”
“Midnight,” Stephen said and added as explanation, “It starts with me waking up and ends at exactly midnight. No matter what I do. My death doesn’t end the loop.” He tried that since it was kinda his to go solution for loops. “Although I don’t know if the loop stops immediately afterwards or continues until midnight.”
“I see.” Tony did not address the fact that those deaths were probably self-inflicted and instead asked, “What else did we try? Give me a roundabout.”He can’t keep the sarcasm fully out of his voice. It still sounded unbelievable. And he was also not overly fond of letting Strange into the sacred place that was his personal lab one floor below. It felt very personal.
“We did various body scans and blood tests of me while I was performing magic and without doing it. Nothing out of the ordinary was shown in the records.
“We tried to get reading at midnight when the set-back is, but I get sent back before I can read it and you don’t remember, obviously.We scanned the Eye of Agamotto, which is time magic, but it’s not the cause of this.And we tried to recreate what I did before the loop started to see if there had been anything that had set it off. Without result.”
This allowed Tony to cross the first four points off the list he had just drawn up in his mind. “What about the physical aspects of the reset?”
“I appear as I did the first Wednesday morning. All physical alterations made during the loop are gone.”
“So you did look like shit that first morning?” A mean smirk accompanied that dig.
Stephen scoffed. “The mental state is not wiped clean. If I am tired it will show on my face.” He brushed a strand of hair from his face. At one point he just hadn’t seen the point of caring anymore to put energy into a spotless appearance. Nobody would remember what he looked like today anyway.
With a small gesture he put a glamor on himself to mask his flaws. With it he looked more like his usual cocky self, beside his still tired eyes.
Tony found he liked it better before the spell. “Cool party trick. Point taken. I take it your time-magic necklace can’t take you back in time before the loop started?” He glanced at the golden eye pointedly.
Strange shook his head. “Time travel is no option.”
Tony’s eyes became a dangerous glimmer. “I bet I could invent time travel.”
“You would need more than a day for that,” Strange chided.
“True, but if I start now, you can give me my notes tomorrow and after that… wait! Have I thought of that in the past?” He noticed Strange sighing. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” the sorcerer managed to sound annoyed and exasperated at the same time with that single word. “You overestimate my ability to understand your science mumbo-jumbo. I have a very good memory but not on rocket engineering.”
Stephen had been at the top of his field because he had an outstanding mind and a lot of dedication to something he was interested in. Medicine… magic…But there was a difference to what Tony was able to do. He was a genius and brilliant in all his fields.
And right now the engineer was gleeful as he handed him a Starkpad. “Write down what you remember. I’ll work with that.” The gauntlet had long been transformed back into a watch and Tony got a second cup of coffee by a machine in his lab. He put some sugar in it and stirred it with a spoon.
“The last thing I thought would happen today was to be in a group project with a wizard. God, just saying it is weird. Let's rephrase it: a tentative truce? A temporary work group? Nope, still weird,” Tony decided.
“Let’s just…” Stephen gestured to the Starkpad and Tony nodded.
“Yes, let’s.”
And so they started working.
As soon as Tony got Strange’s notes he was absorbed into his own world. He asked for some specifics in the writing, but otherwise seemed to grasp it immediately.
Strange insisted on a lunch break – it was way after lunch time – but refused the bagels in Tony’s kitchen. Instead he disappeared for a moment to get Quesadillas.Tony didn’t complain.
Given that he only had one day, Tony progressed far too slowly for his liking. He played with various ideas based on the notes while Strange pointed out some details he remembered Tony had said on the Wednesdays before.
All in all, they had made little progress that evening. As the sorcerer had said: he couldn't invent time travel in one day. And Strange didn't really seem convinced that it was the right approach either. The later the hour approached, the more harsh words were exchanged between the two.
“You know you’re not the most reliable source to pass my records,” Tony said at one point, circling between two screens, because sometimes moving helped him think.
Strange was very frustrated. That kind that builds over several days of stagnation. “Yeah well, I tried to write everything down but it disappears every morning. So, excuse me for coming empty handed.”
“I thought you had a photographic memory. This would be much easier and faster if I had full access to my own notes.” Tony suddenly had an idea and he stopped walking. “Did you ever try… pulling me into the time loop?”
Strange looked up at that change of tone and topic. “What?”
“Think about it. If there’s a possibility it will work… you wouldn’t have to start over again and again on your own. You wouldn’t need to convince me anew every single day. We’d have more time.”
Stephen laughed hollowly and his words were bitter. “If there’s anything I have, it’s time.”
“And how far did that get you?”
“Fuck you.”
But Stephen actually thought about it. It would solve a lot of the technical issues he was facing while trying to break out of the loop. But he still was hesitant to agree. “You don’t know what it means. I have been in a time loop once. Another. It was worse than this one.”This time at least it didn’t end with his death every single time “People around you will forget everything every single day. It will drive you mad."
“Exactly. You shouldn’t endure that alone.” Tony pointed at him.
“Why offer? We’re enemies.”
That was the question, wasn’t it? The same question why Tony had agreed to help Strange in the first place that morning. Every morning.
Tony wondered if those Wednesdays had all the same course of events or if there were alterations. Like Tony not even willing to listen to the invading sorcerer in his kitchen.He found his answer rather easily.
“And that won’t change. But this is bigger than you and me. I want to live my life and not be stuck in the same day.”
“You won’t remember it tomorrow,” Strange pointed out.
“That’s even worse! Who knows how much time we have lost due to this time loop?”
Strange's reply was so quiet that he almost missed it. “It’s been 835 days.”
Tony stared at him in shock. He had thought about a few weeks at most. 835 days was… over two years. Two years of being the only one that remembered what happened the day before. Two years of the same interactions, the same conversations, the same meals in a row.
Tony didn’t understand how the sorcerer was still functioning at all after all this time. How he hadn’t gone insane or lost his motivation at all.
“That’s it. I’m joining you.”
“We don’t even know if it’s possible,” Strange argued.
“And we won’t until we try it. What are our options? I’m sure there are some.” He saw the way his words had made the sorcerer think and waited for the man to talk.
“There might be a spell.” Tony grimaced. That wasn't what he had wanted to hear. “It would create a temporary bond between us. If there’s a chance for you to be pulled into the time loop, it’s that way.”
Suddenly, Tony was no longer convinced of his idea. But before he backed down, he at least wanted to get more information. “You won’t mess with my mind, will you? I may have some second thoughts if so.”
“The mind is not involved with the spell. It’s a link between two souls.”
Tony snorted. That sounded rather made up. But then again, so did time loops. “How does it work? Are we becoming ‘soul mates’? And will that be enough to pull me into the loop?”
“It’s more complicated than that, but basically; yes. Although I’m not a hundred percent sure if it will work.”
“We didn’t try it before?” Tony asked, surprised.
“No.” Stephen shook his head. “At this point you made it very clear that you dislike magic. And I don’t expect you to link your soul to someone you can’t be sure won’t exploit the link”
“It can definitely be undone?”
“Tony,” Strange said unexpectedly softly. “You don’t have to do this.”
It sounded so familiar. This was a man Tony had thought a villain, still thought so if he was honest. But Strange had spent who knew how many of those 835 days with the engineer that for him he no longer was just ‘Stark’. And it showed.
Tony was also curious what the two of them were capable of. He knew that the wizard was a smart and witted man. Personal differences aside.
“Oh, we’re definitely doing this,” he managed to say with more confidence than he actually felt.
“What?” Strange didn’t predict this. “You never said yes to this. In fact you always agreed that this is something you will never do.”He tried to think about what he did, what he said to Tony differently this time that he’d changed his mind.
“See. Your reaction proves my point even more. You’re stuck in the same day with the same dialogues. You need something new. Sure, I hate magic from the bottom of my heart. I really do. But since souls aren’t a thing this won’t probably work anyway and I won’t remember this tomorrow. And then you can rule it out too. It’s basically science what we’re about to do.”He had to talk himself into it, because the prospect of magic did scare him.
Still, Strange hesitated and scrutinized the engineer with his clear blue eyes before he finally nodded in defeat. “Okay. The spell has no long lasting side effects for you and needs to be reapplied daily. You'll barely feel it. So if you change your mind any other day, it's totally fine."
Tony nodded as a sign that he had understood and was ready. It was probably better to get it over with before he realized how dangerous and stupid this was.
Instead Jarvis offered – as so often – a voice of reason. “Sir, I strongly advise against this.”
“Noted.”
“Sir-…”
But Tony shook his head, cutting the A.I. off. “Strange is not going to hurt me.” He looked the wizard in question in the eyes and his gaze made it clear that if Strange did hurt him, hell would be breaking loose.
The sorcerer nodded. “You have my word.”
Tony wasn’t sure how much Strange’s word was worth, but he seemed sincere enough, and since this whole thing had been his own idea he decided to move things forward. “Let’s start.”
For the spell they had to stand in front of each other. Strange moved his fingers through the air and a yellowish glowing thread appeared, following his movements. It almost looked like it was woven in a delicate pattern.Fear twisted in his chest at the sign, even though it seemed perfectly harmless and totally different from the magic he was used to.
“Give me your hand,” the sorcerer told him and Tony offered it. Strange sought his gaze to confirm one last time. Tony raised his eyebrow, but didn't back down.
Strange wove the thread around Tony’s wrist and hand, and then around his own.
The magic faded into their skins and Tony felt a tingle up his arm. Like it fell asleep – but warmer and more pleasant. It resonated with something deep inside of him.The thread that connected them faded as well and Strange lowered his hands.
“That’s it?” Tony asked, looking at his skin. There was no trace of magic. “Did it work?”
“The spell worked. I will know tomorrow if it stays through the reset.”
It was only one word but it told so much about the situation Strange was in. ‘I will know tomorrow’ not ‘we’. Because although they had apparently worked together on this problem for so long, the sorcerer was still alone in this.If the spell didn’t do what they hoped it would, Tony won’t remember this ever happened.
Strange was alone in a vast pool of people, cursed with awareness and knowledge. Trapped in monotony.No wonder he looked so tired this morning.
“Let’s go back to inventing time travel,” Tony said, switching topics and moved his arm to pat Strange on the shoulder. But the cloak slapped his hand away before he could even touch the man.Tony glared at the piece of fabric that ruffled in return. Like a red watchdog.
“Are you two done?” Strange asked with a side-glance.
“Your… thing started it.”Yeah, Tony proved once again to be very mature.
“You’re an adult man, Stark. I’m sure you’re above these kinds of things.”
Tony kept his mouth shut. No matter what he said, he would only lose.
By the end of the day, they hadn't made any significant progress. Tony made him memorize some equations anyway. Just in case Tony wouldn't remember them tomorrow.
It was a few minutes before midnight when Stephen felt the pull. It was familiar by now, expected. It didn’t hurt. He just knew the time had come. Another day he failed to find a solution.
Turning his head to Tony he noticed the engineer was watching him. He knew what question was on his mind. He had answered it so often.
“The reset feels like I blacked out for a moment. Everything goes dark. Then I wake up in my bed.”
“No time in between?”
“I don’t think so.” Stephen shrugs.
Tony looked at his watch. They were down to a few seconds. “See you on the other side.”
Strange smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.
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fireflameproductions · 6 months
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The steam team
Here’s my official lineup for the HIT era steam team! I’m super pleased with my designs for all of them and I think that they fit their personalities well! I have updated some things since then (this drawing is from July) but everything is still pretty much the same up till now.
They are a unique species that look human but share engine traits (grey skin, higher demand for water, and enhanced strength and speed). They all work as conductors and general workers on the railway.
My AU also takes place in the mid 1960s so technology is very limited and is still very old fashioned.
Headcanons and close ups below!
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💙Thomas Billinton💙
Voice headcanon: Eddie Glen
Physical age: 33
Mental age: 20
- Despite being the ‘leader’ of The steam team he lacks in leadership skills. Unless the task is extremely important
- He is kind but can be mischievous and slightly rude when he wants
- He is pan and is currently dating Emily
- Despite his previous mistakes and wrong doings he tries his best to better himself and to not let others bring him down
- If there he candy around it will be gone in less than 30 seconds
- Annie and Clarabel are his closest friends and would kill if something bad happened to them
- Likes to bully the older members as he finds it funny (Gordon especially)
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💙Edward Pettigrew💙
Voice headcanon: William Hope
Physical age: 65
Mental age: 47
- The father figure of the group, everyone looks up to him since he’s one of the oldest engines
- The sweetest member on the team (probably the sweetest on the island let’s be real)
- The best guy to go to for support and advice. He’ll try his best to help everyone
- Rarely ever gets upset, when he does you know you’ve messed up
- Due to his age he gets tired more easily. And has trouble working long, hard days
- He is currently questioning his sexuality
- Absolutely loves calm days on the railway, it gives him a chance to slow down and relax.
- Despite being pushed down by the younger members, he doesn’t let that bother him and continues to do his best
- Loves hugs, gives them out for free (go give him one he deserves it)
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💚Henry Stanier💚
Voice headcanon: Keith Wickham
Physical age: 39
Mental age: 34
- Is usually kindhearted but can be rude if you grind his gears
- Absolutely loves nature, he keeps a ton of houseplants in his room
- He is bi
- Has trauma from The Flying Kipper accident, he has a lot of scars from the crash
- Is a sucker for cuddles (will get flustered if you hug him)
- Has frequent anxiety due to past accidents. He doesn’t want to go through that much fear again
- He loves napping under trees (he has a favourite one in his forest)
- Hopes one day he could pull the express full time (despite Gordon’s pleas)
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💙Gordon Gresley💙
Voice headcanon: Kerry Shale
Physical age: 43
Mental age: 41
- Is one of the tallest and strongest workers on the island. He always thinks that he’s the best (and he is ofc)
- Despite his pompous and harsh exterior he is good hearted and wouldn’t hesitate to help others in need
- He is bi demiromantic and is currently dating Jessica (my self insert Oc)
- Has a massive fear of heights after the events of ‘A better view for Gordon’ and he hates it when people find out
- Avoids showing any form of weakness or vulnerability due to his reputation. He doesn’t want to look soft as he fears it will ruin him
- Enjoys a nice black tea at any time of the day
- Wouldn’t trade his job of pulling the express for anything. He absolutely loves it. And he hates doing any other jobs (especially if it’s dirty work)
- Despite getting teased by Thomas often he’s happy with his alliance with him, whenever he needs help he will come to his aid.
- Wouldn’t say it out loud but he would definitely cry if something happened to the ones that he cares about.
- He fears no one except for Diesel 10. He quivers in fear in his presence
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❤️James Hughes❤️
Voice headcanon: Rob Rackstraw
Physical age: 32
Mental age: 28
- MASSIVE show off, will take any opportunity to show the world who he is
- He’s gay and has a crush on Edward
- Definitely has the biggest wardrobe of the group. He loves fashion and will wear makeup when he wants to
- Isn’t afraid to start beef with someone. He is full of drama and comebacks
- Sometimes, especially after an accident he feels insecure about his self image. And feels like he’s not good enough. He absolutely hates this
- Would definitely throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get what he wants
- Always wants to look perfect, he wants to impress everyone
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💚Percy Stothert💚
Voice headcanon: Nigel Pilkington
Physical age: 27
Mental age: 19
- The youngest in the the group, he’s just a little child!
- Is way too pure for this world. He brightens up any room that he enters
- LOVES any job involving the mail. He takes pride in it and is always super proud of himself when he gets the job done
- He is ace
- He is very optimistic and always has a positive outlook on life. He’s also very supportive and wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand!
- He loves animals! And usually tags along with Henry when walking in the woods
- He’s very curious and wants to learn as much as he can
- He gets scared very easily, others take advantage of this and try to scare him. Though he tries his best to be brave!
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🤎Toby Holden🤎
Voice headcanon: Ben Small
Physical age: 53
Mental age: 51
- A kind and wise old man. On par with Edward on being a great source of advice
- Loves to take things slow and enjoy the littlest moments in life. You’ll never see him being in a rush
- He is straight and is married to Henrietta
- He has a massive fear of water after multiple incidents. And gets very upset when people tease him about it
- Despite being one of the smallest members of the group he has a massive heart. A great source of support
- Likes to participate in the younger members’ tricks on occasion. It gives him a good laugh
- Due to his calm nature, whenever he is stressed he often overacts as he’s not the best with dealing with anxiety
- He loves to wind down by sitting in his chair with a hot tea and with his wife close at the end of the day
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💚Emily Sterling💚
Voice headcanon: Teresa Gallagher
Physical age: 72
Mental age: 35
- Surprisingly the oldest in the group. Although she doesn’t get teased about it as much as Edward
- Loves telling stories about her work experiences in Scotland. Feel free to lend a ear and she’ll tell you one!
- She’s usually very kind but she can be bossy when she’s grumpy
- She acts as the bigger sister to the group, especially the younger members. She will do anything to help them if they were in danger
- Loves a good old fashioned tea party. It’s one of her favourite activities
- She is straight and is dating Thomas
- She enjoys a good book. Takes frequent trips to the library. It’s her favourite way to wind down after a busy day
- Like Edward she gets tired easily and has trouble working long days
- She is the queen of girl outings, and is always ready to plan a get together
Whew that was a lot of typing, if you’ve made it this far, thank you. And have a good day ^^
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hrts4wonu · 4 months
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“이상한 왕국” : spoilers
translation: the strange kingdom
you grew up in a small village, in a kingdom ruled by an evil queen who's time will soon end which was being celebrated by your peers. but, little did they know, another kingdom has arrived not to celebrate along with you all, and instead end the innocent lives of the people who live in this kingdom. the large, thick concrete walls that circled the kingdom crashed to the floor and fires were spreading everywhere. nobody else had escaped in time, you think. for days, you ran and ran and ran. far away from the kingdom that you thought was safe forever. 'what was i thinking? there's no forever, just like what my mom said.' you say to yourself as you crash to your knees, tired and barely having enough energy to run anymore. your eyesight was getting blurry the more you ran, and you brushed it off like it was nothing. you finally found the energy to run again after resting. your stomach was grumbling and you were in pain; nobody else survived except you and you were just running away from all of it. just as you were about to stand up, you fall to the ground losing your consciousness. and before you knew it, a kind-hearted prince approaches your figure and yells something out loud to the people near him that you just couldn't find the energy to pay attention to. 'fate' you thought before completely closing your eyes and fading into the dark abyss. when you woke up the next day, you were in some sort of bed. you gathered everything inside of you to stand up and walk— which, you couldn't quite do because of your exhausted legs and the wounds on them. the same prince from yesterday approached you worryingly and places you back on the bed, “what happened? are you okay?” he utters in such a panicked yet loving voice. you shook your head no in response. “another kingdom.. attacked ours.” you add to your nod, looking away with a frown. and from then on, you and the prince had become great friends; you now lived in the so called ‘isanghan wang-gug’ or in english, ‘the strange kingdom’
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tags. seventeen, royal au, ex ruler reader / yn, ot13, colonized village, kingdoms, fantasy, fairytale
warnings. violence (not quite), smut, slowburn, harem, seventeen x reader, arguments, swearing, sparring, unprotected sex (don't do this), overstimulation, tying up / bdsm, forced marriage, etc. (tell me if i missed anything!)
a/n: hey, starlings. kim here<3 this royal au is not inspired by anyone (i'm serious btw). this idea originated from the time where i used to play minecraft and i just all of a sudden went like 'oh my god, what if i make castles for seventeen? like an entire kingdom?' and i did. i wasn't able to technically finish it due to the fact that my minecraft wouldn't open anymore and yeeahh.. anyways, i made my own lore for it but instead of sending it to my friends i wanted to post it here on tumblr instead ^_^
-👑-
RELEASE DATE : January 1, 2024 - January 13, 2024 (between those dates)
UPDATES : every 2 weeks / 1 month
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MASTERLIST ;
MEMBERS & INFORMATION:
#1:
#2:
SEASON 1: The Journey Begins
ep 1:
ep 2:
ep 3:
ep 4:
ep 5:
ep 6:
ep 7:
ep 8:
ep 9:
ep 10:
SEASON 2: Eye Of The Evil
ep 11:
ep 12:
ep 13:
ep 14:
ep 15:
ep 16:
ep 17:
ep 18:
ep 19:
ep 20:
SEASON 3: Equality's Dead
ep 21:
ep 22:
ep 23:
ep 24:
ep 25:
SEASON 4: The Hurricane
ep 26:
ep 27:
ep 28:
ep 29:
ep 30:
ep 31:
ep 32:
ep 33:
SEASON 5: Roses, Wine, & Assassin 8
ep 34:
ep 35:
SEASON 6: Hidden Secrets
ep 36:
ep 37:
ep 38:
ep 39:
ep 40:
ep 41:
ep 42:
ep 43:
ep 44:
ep 45:
SEASON 7: One Last Glimpse
ep 46:
ep 47:
ep 48:
ep 49:
ep 50:
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a/n 2 : i might do more but for now, i will try continuing this and finishing all 7 seasons in 2024. i'm currently going to start with the first episodes now and might make the release date earlier than what i want it to be or maybe push it back to a later date.
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spawksstuff · 6 months
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De's Military Service
The National Archives and Records Administration is a great website for military records, especially old ones. Some have been digitized and some have not (and some were burned in a fire in 1973, presumably what happened to my great grandfather's records). I was searching for the two training films De was a part of besides "A Time To Kill" (I am determined to find them!) and decided to see if his record was on there, and sure enough it was. Even though it's a public website, I still blacked out De's Serial Number (his SSN was already blacked out) although I don't think anyone could do anything with it since its been so long and as he had no children, any potential VA benefits wouldn't be a factor today or in the future.
Draft Registration:
This address is right on the beach. His employer is "Cooper Arms" which is down the block from the residence address. Cooper Arms is where he got his elevator job. I don't know if this is before or after he crashed in their basement. He's 21 here, so this is sometime in 1941. Notice the signature on the bottom. The clerk most likely made him put in "Jackson" since that was his "official" name. Blue, Blonde, light complexion, and 150 lbs.
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10 March 1943 Long Beach Press Telegram
The newspaper article where De got on the bus to go to Basic. (Mentioned in "From Sawdust to Stardust"). (Article was saved in my "military" folder instead of "newspapers", which is why it wasn't posted before.)
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Payroll RAAF, Roswell NM 30 Apr 44
I don't know why this was included in his record, but I love finding records like this so I included it.
Going from left to right, 3 Mar 43 (date drafted). 0 is Years of Service (it's weird in the military: if you're in, but below 2 years, you're still considered having 0 years of service until you hit that 2 year mark, at least on pay records). With the comment under his name, it appears De stopped an allotment in February, and they are now reimbursing him for taking it after he wanted it stopped. If the codes are the same as today, an "F" Allotment is to a charity or emergency assistance fund. Blacked out is his Serial Number. The 6.60 is for an "N" Allotment which is life insurance. 3.75 is for "Class A pay reservations" which is a war bond as far as I can tell. 1.50 is for "Government Laundry."
In the second picture, I could not decode what the 10.35 was for (T/A). So he was due 65.65, but they collected the 1.50, leaving him with 64.15. He signed (with "Jackson" now) saying he received that money.
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Separation 28 Jan 1946 -
After VE and VJ day, the First Motion Picture Unit was shut down and some of the unit was sent to Colorado to wait for their separation orders.
Separation Qualification Record
Lists his military jobs, basic information, and a summary of military occupations, which would likely have been useful for returning GIs to get a job doing something similar to what they did in the service, for example, radio technicians, communications, etc. The address on Normandie is where he and Carolyn started renting right before they got married.
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Page 2 (Backpage), Military Education, Civilian Education and occupations. Again all of this would be helpful for returning GIs.
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Honorable Discharge Certificate
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WD AGO Form 53-55 - Official Separation Form
Basic information. Same address on Normandie as above. Blue eyes, but now Brown hair and weight is 165 (Guess 3 meals a day and all the PT helped him out 😂 Or Carolyn made him some good food 🤣). No. Depend-1, this is number of dependents, being spouse or children, or even at this time parents as the rules were more lax on supporting your parents.
Block 21 Civilian Occupation "Checker" - I'm unsure about this but according to "From Sawdust to Stardust" De told them he was an "entertainer." Box 35 is Immunizations, which continues in Box 55. I'm surprised by how late he got these. Perhaps the Army gave priority to those going overseas first and then the rest got them. Nowadays you get the majority at Basic Training if you don't already have them.
Served 2 years, 10 months, and 13 days, and was a Private First Class upon discharge. Reason for separation is basically "surplus." Pay Data was his final pay plus some travel money, and his insurance continued for another month.
Block 34, right thumb print. Box 55 Remarks: the continued immunizations. Inactive service is while he was waiting to board the bus to Basic, (the time between when he was notified he was drafted and the day he officially was).
The "6 Days lost" is throwing me. Usually "Days lost" means you weren't able to work because you made a bad choice (like you're hungover, or you did something incredibly stupid and hurt yourself, causing hospitalization, or you didn't show up for most of your shift) but I can't see De being too hungover to work or not showing up. However, there is the story of him, George Reeves, and another soldier getting lost in Colorado, pushed a car into the nearby town, and when they couldn't get the hotel owner to open up, they broke in and slept on the floor. They were drunk after drinking a bottle of bourbon trying to stay warm. The sheriff came by and took them to jail for the night. There's also the story of George Reeves getting recognized in Colorado at a hotel and decided not to spend the night because he got mobbed (De was with him). A sheriff pulled them over for something and decided to put them in jail for the night. I don't know if these two stories are the same or not, one was in the book and one was in a newspaper article, but if it made them late or made them miss a shift, that would count as being absent, (but not AWOL, which would have been much more serious). Also I don't know if the furlough time was considered "lost time". It's possible all of this was and it added up to the 6 days.
The 4 Discharge Emblems were pins issued to be worn on the uniform once someone was discharged. Since there was a clothing shortage, service members were authorized to wear their uniforms even after they were discharged (mostly while traveling home). The Discharge Emblem proved that they weren't away from their unit, that they were allowed to be wherever they were. ASR score was a rating given to service members to list who got discharge papers first.
De signed and he was now a Veteran and a civilian. Back to Carolyn at Normandie and Paramount.
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The Silver Dragon (43/?)
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character
Word Count: 18,112 (OOPS, but not really)
Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.
Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.
Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?
Chapter Summary: Aemond return to King's Landing. Arianwyn tells the Vale the truth.
Warnings: self-harm
Author's Note:
So sorry for the delay! After seeing some new BTS from episode 10, my brain sprang to life with some new things I could incorporate here. And my beta is on vacation, so if you saw any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, please let me know so I can fix it!
We are now officially leaving show canon behind...
Series Masterlist
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Three Days, Part III
On the 25th day in the ninth month, 136 years after Aegon’s Conquest…
The moon was tauntingly full and bright, and the clouds had long since dispersed. There was nowhere to hide. Anyone who looked toward the sky could clearly see the monster flying above them.
The monster, and the dragon he rode.
“Skoros emagon ao gaomagon?” Aemond whispered, far too quietly for Vhagar to hear over the roaring wind lashing at them as they raced back to King’s Landing with a speed he had never seen. What have you done?
He did not know if he was asking her or himself.
He was not sure if he had actually said anything at all, or so much as moved his lips. His throat was painfully raw from shouting through the storm – he may not have been able to produce a sound even if he wanted to.
But he must have said something, for Vhagar responded with a proud twist of her head and a victorious roar.
Gods save him. There was still blood on her teeth.
The blood of that poor young dragon whose name Aemond did not know. And…
Luke’s blood.
The pain that had been steadily growing within Aemond’s skull suddenly burst forth like a mighty wave crashing through a dam.
Even the sapphire – Aria’s sapphire – felt like it had come alive and was trying to claw its way out of his skin.
The vision in his good eye went blurry, and it was only thanks to the dozens of straps and chains tying him to the saddle that Aemond did not fall off Vhagar’s back and plummet to his death on the peaks of the mountains below.
He wanted to cut the straps away, break the iron chains with his bare hands. Anything to get away from the beast he was shackled to in body and soul, even if it meant his death.
Would it be anything less than he deserved?
But the pain was too great for him to wrap his hand around the hilt of his dagger.
Each beat of his heart brought on a new pulse of pure agony. With each surge, his muscles tensed until he was sure they would snap.
The only thing he could manage was to cradle the burning scar.
His eyepatch was not there, though he did not remember removing it himself, nor it falling off in the wind.
It was just… gone.
When another wave washed over him – the pain more intense than when he was first given the wound – he pressed into his hands, desperately seeking relief.
But it did not come.
The sapphire was as cold as ice – colder than anything he had ever felt. So cold that it burned the skin of his palm.
Aemond shrieked at the pain.
Vhagar echoed the noise, nearly coming to a halt over a mountain peak. But she recovered faster than her rider and began to fly faster still – so fast Aemond could not believe it – towards King’s Landing.
Towards home – to Aria.
Aemond collapsed against the saddle, not caring when the leather and chains bit into his skin as he strained against them.
His next cry came not from pain, but realization.
It wasn’t his scar that was hurting him so deeply.
It was the sapphire.
The jewel – the purest expression of Aria’s love he ever possessed – was fighting against him.
Burning him.
Hurting him.
Rejecting him.
He was unworthy of such a gift. Unworthy of Aria’s love and the protection her Runes offered.
She was so good, so pure, so perfect.
He was a monster.
Worse, a kinslayer.
Wearing her gift was an affront to her, the old gods, and indeed all gods and men. He could not be allowed to possess it any longer. His very touch marred its goodness irreparably.
He pulled his hands away from his face just enough to curl his fingers into claws – the same claws Vhagar bore.
Skin broke on the first strike.
Then again.
And again.
Over and over until his hands, and the sapphire that now sat within them, were coated in hot red blood.
Aemond squeezed his eye shut, unable to bring himself to look as he opened his hands and let the sapphire fall.
Then he screamed anew.
And he did not stop.
-
Sleep, restful sleep, had eluded Arianwyn, leaving her bleary-eyed as she watched Emrys bristle in the garden below. Her poor dragon was quite upset that his first-ever adventure had been ruined by the arrival of Vermax – almost as upset as his rider was by the arrival of Jacaerys.
Had it not been for the arrival of her stepbrother, they would currently be preparing to leave, if they had not left already.
Instead, Arianwyn was tugging half-heartedly on the satin belt of her dressing gown, wishing it was the leather lacings of her cuirass – freshly replaced after Aemond ripped them only days ago.
Emrys –just as averse to early mornings as his beloved rider – was not stretching his wings in anticipation of their long flight, but folding them tightly over his head to block out Vermax’s unceasing chirrups.
As she loosed her robe and sat at the end of her bed, Arianwyn bowed her head in prayer. “May the Crone guide me this day, that I may speak with wisdom and grace. If it is the will of the gods, allow my petition to be successful. And if it is not…”
She opened her eyes and gazed out into the gardens, where Vermax was excitedly sniffing at a large rose bush. If she ignored who the little green creature was bonded to, she could almost let herself be amused by the sight.
But she couldn’t ignore it, nor how Emrys was slinking closer and closer to her window, examining its stone walls as if trying to figure out a way to slip inside. It would never work, of course. He was so large that he couldn’t even fit his whole snout through.
When he finally figured it out himself, he dejectedly rested the tip of his chin against the windowsill and whined softly.
Arianwyn rose from the bed with a sympathetic smile and stroked his nose. “Nyke gīmigon, byka ossȳngnon,” she cooed as he leaned into her touch. “Lo jaelā naejot jiōragon qrīdrughagon hen zirȳla, kostā jikagon sōvegon ondoso aōla. Vermax iksis byka, se daor olvie adere, kessa daor gaomagon bē.” I know, little dread. If you want to get away from him, you can go fly by yourself. Vermax is small, and not very fast, he will not keep up.
Emrys snorted solemnly in reply, sending a small burst of smoke into the bedroom. No, he would not leave her now. Never when she was so upset.
“Kirimvose, dōna mēre,” she said with a kiss to his warm scales. “Avy jorrāelan.” Thank you, sweet one. I love you.
She could almost swear that as Emrys grumbled, there was a voice speaking in the back of her head that sounded eerily like that grumbling. It told her it loved her too.
“Kostagon jān arlī naejot ñuha jorepnon sir?” she asked playfully. Can I go back to my prayer now?
Emrys blinked and, with some difficulty, removed his snout from the window. Vermax immediately noticed the movement and began to approach the older dragon.
Arianwyn laughed as Emrys slumped against the wall, wrapped his wings around his face again, and pretended to fall asleep.
“Sȳz biarves,” she called. Good luck.
She did not return to her prayer immediately, for she did not know what to say next. So instead, she took off her nightgown and began to dress for the day. Jeyne had offered to send a maid, but Arianwyn found she enjoyed managing alone for a few days. Besides, she did not want to have to explain to someone new how to deal with her mass of curls.
When Brynna told her she had packed five dresses for the journey, even though it was supposed to take only three days, she had thought her maid foolish and unreasonably over-prepared.
But now, she was grateful to have options to choose from. It made her feel like a knight selecting which weapon to carry into battle.
She had already worn two of the gowns, leaving her with three options:
First, there was a heavily structured dress of deep blue silk – Arryn blue. The shoulders bore embroidery reminiscent of wings, a nod to the sigil of her godsmother’s house. But to wear something so obvious would feel dishonest. Too much like begging.
Arianwyn was not an Arryn. She was a Royce – and a Targaryen. She would not pretend to be anything else.
She would not rely on her connections to the Vale or the throne to make her argument. If she was to win Jeyne’s allegiance, it would be her logic and the brutal honesty of her story that won it.
So, the black and bronze gown – the one she had worn her first day back to King’s Landing – was also rejected.
There was only one option left.
A surcoat and linen underdress, like the one she had worn during the little game she and Aemond played the day before they left.
But this was far simpler than that one. The coat was made of soft, undyed wool, with voluminous sleeves to protect her from the cold mountain wind.
Its only decoration was the embroidery along the edges – intricate depictions of the beautiful flowers that graced the fields of Runestone. Campion and marsh. Cornflower and primrose. Foxglove and snowdrops. And Arianwyn’s favorite – meadowsweet.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt perfect. Soft, but regal. Stately, yet not too imposing. She was every bit the Princess and Lady she now was, but she was still herself.
All that was missing was a ring on her finger and her husband on her arm.
Suddenly, she knew how to end her prayer.
“I know that I am on the right path, and my cause is just,” she whispered aloud, feeling that the words were too important to keep inside. “But the path you lay out for us is not always so clear. If I am to fail today, I ask only that I be allowed to return safely into my husband’s arms, that we may face whatever is to come together.”
-
The very earth trembled as Vhagar landed just outside the King’s Gate. She had flown so far and fast that, by the time she started her descent, she was too exhausted to land well.
The talons at the tips of her wings and her claws had caught the stones of the city wall as she tried to slow herself, sending broken shards of brick raining down on the gold cloaks standing guard at the gate. She had landed with such force that her back legs dug deep rivets into the ground below her.
It hadn’t helped that as soon as the city was in sight, Aemond took up the reins for the first time in hours to try and steer her directly toward the Red Keep.
“Skoriot issi ao jāre?” he had rasped when she pulled against his commands. His voice was practically nonexistent after hours of ceaseless screaming. “Gūrogon nyke lenton.” Where are you going? Take me home.
Vhagar ignored his commands. She knew there was nowhere she could land in the city itself that would not result in the injury or death of some innocent. After how he reacted to the righteous death of that little dragon and its rider – the same hateful boy who had maimed her Aemond on the night they claimed each other – who dared to threaten him, she would not put him in place to be hurt again.
In the years she had spent making him fierce, she had never thought him soft. None of her other riders had been so.
Thankfully, he was far too weak from the flight, his self-inflicted wounds, and whatever demons were roiling within his mind to fight against her in any meaningful way. Not that she would obey, even if he could. She would follow no order which might put him in danger.
“Kostilus,” he begged hoarsely as she turned toward the tourney grounds. “Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon lenton. Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon naejot zirȳla. Nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla.” Please. I need to go home. I need to go to her. I need her.
She let out a sympathetic growl but continued to descend on the great stretch of grassy fields outside the city, frightening the smallfolk for how close they came to their roofs.
Aemond was not surprised by her disobedience. He had begged her to stop when she began to pursue Luke on her own after that dragon – barely more than a hatchling – had loosed a weak burst of dragonfire on her. And she had disobeyed.
Of course, she had. Who was he to command the Queen of All Dragons?
Compared to the paragons of his house who had ridden her before him, Aemond was nothing.
He was not an almighty conqueror like Visenya.
He was not a brave and beloved Prince like his grandsire, Baelon.
He was certainly not like Laena, adored and admired by all.
No, he was only a wretched, monstrous, broken excuse for a prince – for a Targaryen.
He had never been worthy of any dragon, much less Vhagar.
Allowing him to claim her had been some cruel, cosmic joke. A way for the gods to amuse themselves by watching him fail so miserably. Or a punishment, perhaps. For the darkness that had always lived inside his damned soul.
Oh gods.
He was damned. As a murderer, a monster, a kinslayer.
All because of the dragon – the abomination created by his Valyrian ancestors with their infernal blood magics – that he had bound himself to.
He had to get away from her.
The moment she came to rest in the middle of the road leading out of the city, Aemond began frantically removing each of the restraints keeping him in the saddle. It took him longer than it should have, as his bloodstained hands still trembled. His chest was heaving painfully with each panicked breath, and without the chill of the wind to numb it, his empty clawed-open eye was starting to burn again.
When he was finally free, he scrambled down the rope ladder on Vhagar’s side quicker than ever before, despite the pain circling his legs. Somehow, on the flight back, he had pulled so hard against the leather straps and chains that they had dug into his skin. He had no doubt there were bruises, and knew it was more than likely that blood had been drawn.
But he didn’t care. He just wanted to get away, to run back to his rooms and into the awaiting arms of his wife.
He didn’t want to acknowledge Vhagar at all. But when he began toward the guards at the King’s Gate, each of whom was staring with wide eyes as the fact of who was limping toward them and covered in his own blood sunk in, she let out a low, pleading whine.
His exhaustion and devastation faded instantly, replaced with an enormous, unquenchable rage.
“Gaomā daor jiōragon naejot sagon zūgagon syt nyke!” Aemond shouted as he whirled on her, causing his left leg to buckle. He only just caught himself before falling into the upturned dirt. “Emā ojūdan bona paktot.” You do not get to be worried for me! You have lost that right.
Vhagar shied away from his anger, her orange eyes wide with bewilderment. How could her dear rider treat her like this after all she had done to protect him?
“Gaomagon ao sesīr gīmigon skoros emā sepār gaomagon?” he asked, ignoring the calls from the guards offering him aid. Do you know what you have just done?
The dragon only whined again – a feeble, wounded noise.
“Ao ossēntan zirȳla! Nyke mērī jeldan naejot sȳngagon zirȳla – hae ziry istin gōntan naejot nyke.  Yn ao ossēntan zirȳla!” His voice cracked like a raging fire as he roared, his throat raw and aching. You killed him! I only wanted to frighten him – as he once did to me. But you killed him!
“Īles iā riña! Īles ñuha lentor, se ao ossēntan zirȳla!” he shrieked as pain began to well once more in his empty eye – the result of the salty tears pooling within and stinging the open wounds he had inflicted himself. He was a child! He was my family, and you killed him!
He almost collapsed as each one of his wounds began to throb as one. “Emā vēttan nyke iā letnor sēntys! Se syt bona iksan qrimbrōstan! Ñuha gīs kessa zālagon isse se trūmāje hen Sīkudi Nopāzmi ēva se mōris hen jēda… se kesan gūrogon ziry.” You have made me a kinslayer! And for that I am cursed! My soul will burn in the deepest of the Seven Hells until the end of time... and I will deserve it.
Vhagar dropped her chin to the ground and moaned, her best attempt at appearing innocent and coy. But Aemond could still smell the sharp tang of blood on her breath and see the faint traces of rusty brown embedded between the scales of her snout.
Another pang had Aemond stumbling into the dirt, the impact sending licks of fire up his injured legs. Several guards at the gate began to run for him, but reeled back when Vhagar, too, surged toward her rider.
“Daor!” Aemond ordered with the last of his remaining strength as he fought to try and stand. “Umbagon qrīdrughagon!” No! Stay away!
The massive dragon winced at the sheer fury contained in the command and began to slink away like a scolded pup. As she retreated, the guards once again began to cautiously approach the Prince.
“Eminna daorun tolī naejot gaomagon lēda ao,” Aemond spat with a fading voice between shaky breaths. “Jaelan ao naejot henujagon.  Skoriot jā daoriot jemagon.  Hēzīr, iksā daorun naejot nyke. I will have nothing more to do with you. I want you to leave. Where you go does not matter. From now on, you are nothing to me. 
He did not look at Vhagar as he finally stood, turning to the three gold cloaks now surrounding him. They looked at him like they had happened upon an injured shadowcat – something at once pitiful and deadly.
“My Prince…” the eldest among them said sheepishly. “Are you alright?”
Aemond did not so much as glance at the man as he began stumbling toward the gate. He could feel his mind, which he had only just regained as he came back to solid ground, begin to slip away again. If he looked at the man’s simpering face, no doubt full of pity, he might very well lose it again.
“I need a horse,” he growled.
“Of course,” the guard said, running ahead of him to the guardpost. The other two fell into an awkward formation behind the Prince.
It took a humiliatingly long time for Aemond to actually arrive at the gate, by which time a horse was saddled and waiting. Mounting the damned thing when every muscle he had screamed in protest was one of the most challenging things he had ever done.
As he gripped the horse’s reins, Vhagar made another woeful noise – a last attempt to try and ply him.
With the sound, he felt the last remaining dregs of his consciousness begin to melt away. He had to return to the Keep quickly, before losing himself entirely. Indeed, it was already becoming hard to focus his vision on anything beyond his horse’s ears.
But he still held to his anger at his damned dragon.
“Lo nyke mirre ilagon laesi va ao aril…” he hissed, his lone violet eye bloodshot and filled with disdain. “Nyke dōrī jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao arlī.  Mirre.” If I ever lay eyes on you again... I never want to see you again. Ever.
He did not wait for her reply before driving his heels into the horse and setting it galloping through the King’s Gate and into the bustling streets of King’s Landing.
Vhagar’s doleful wails were heard by all within the city’s walls, save for her rider. His mind had already begun to pull him away from reality. All he could hear was the pouring of rain, the cracking of thunder, and the horrible crunch of bones between Vhagar’s teeth.
-
If Arianwyn had thought hours of listening to the old men of the Vale debate over dams and crops and visitation schedules was miserable, having to stay still and silent and keep her face neutral as she listened to Jace speak on behalf of Rhaenyra was surely a punishment from the gods themselves.
It certainly didn’t help that he looked at her with that stupid smug smile whenever he thought he made a good point.
Perhaps she should have prayed more for the strength to endure her stepbrother rather than just for the success of her own petition.
Jace had begun with a rather monotonous history lesson detailing the Targaryen family line from Aenar to himself. But, of course, he had incorrectly listed the late Ser Laenor Velaryon as his father.
Arianwyn had let her impassive façade slip for a moment when a few disbelieving chuckles and jeers echoed through the hall at the assertion. But the ever-watchful Gerold had spotted her slight smile and quickly corrected her with a gentle pinch on her elbow.
To his credit, Jace had not let it deter him. Instead, he smoothly transitioned into detailing how and why Viserys had named Rhaenyra his heir. Then to a fumbling and faulty explanation of the Widow’s Law and how he thought it supported his mother’s claim.
Arianwyn listened closely, making a note of each inconsistency, vaguery, or inaccuracy – whether it be intentional or not. While the bulk of her argument would rely on the revelation of Daemon’s character and past crimes, she had to first counter whatever Jace said.
There was ever the possibility that some, perhaps many, would not believe what she had to say about her father. If they did, she would still need to say whatever she could to convince them.
“There is little more to say, my Lords,” Jace proclaimed. The self-righteous lilt in his voice grated on Arianwyn endlessly. “It is clear that by both law and my grandsire’s wishes, my mother Rhaenyra was always the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, whatever the would-be usurper may say.
“I never had the good fortune to meet my mother’s mother, Queen Aemma, but I have been raised on stories of her goodness. I am proud to bear her blood, her Arryn blood. Though I have been here not yet a day, I can feel the land here call to me, as I am sure it does to my mother as well.”
Arianwyn considered her restraint in not rolling her eyes at that to be nothing short of miraculous. She would have to commission a bard to write a song commemorating the feat.
Jace turned to Jeyne and gave a short, almost solemn nod. “Rhaenyra is not only your cousin and your Queen, my Lady, but your peer. Those who would try to usurp her throne do so for no reason other than that she is a woman, and for that, they consider her unworthy of her birthright.
“I ask only that you honor the oath you took some twenty years ago by acknowledging my mother as your Queen and pledging your support to her cause. With good fortune, this farce will not come to bloodshed. However, I cannot deny that having you declare your support for the Queen, with the might of your armies behind you, would do much to dissuade my usurper uncle from pursuing this any further.
“But I am willing to wait to receive your answer,” he said, turning once more to look at Arianwyn with a smile almost too genuine. “For my sweet sister has come to speak on my uncle’s behalf. I find myself quite curious as to why she has done so, seeing as she is, herself, a ruling Lady. Nevertheless, my affection for her is nearly as great as my respect for her intellect, so I will humbly stand aside and allow her to speak.”
Another subtle pinch from Gerold signaled Arianwyn to bow her head in thanks to her stepbrother and give him a grateful smile. Though she would never admit it, she was surprisingly touched by his praise, underhanded though it was.
“I commend you for your eloquent speech, Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne said from the throne as the light smattering of applause, led by Lords Sunderland and Corbray, finally quieted. “It is true that I have found myself in a similar predicament to your mother. Thrice have mine own kin sought to replace me, and thrice they have failed. My cousin Ser Arnold is wont to say that women are too soft to rule. I have him in one of my sky cells, if you would like to ask him yourself, or simply meet another long-estranged cousin.”
The gathered crowd laughed with her at that – including Arianwyn, despite her nerves.
Jeyne’s held up a hand to quiet the room once more. “As Jacaerys says, there is another here to speak to us on this matter. While she is not my blood as Rhaenyra is, she is my family in both the eyes of the gods and in the affections of my own heart. For this, and for her place as the Lady of Runestone, I now invite her now to make her petition on behalf of her good brother, Aegon.”
The silence in the room was so heavy that as Arianwyn walked to the center of the hall to stand before the Weirwood thrones, she felt as though she was moving through sand. But she swallowed her fear and willed her racing heart to calm.
Otto Hightower would not have sent her here if he did not believe her capable of succeeding – nor would any member of the Small Council, even Aegon. She reassured herself that she had not only their support, distant as it was, but that of the law, the gods, and her husband. With all that behind her, how could she fail?
“Lords and Ladies of the Vale, it is an honor to speak to you today,” she began, pleasantly surprised at the strength of her voice. “I ask that you please be forgiving should I not be particularly eloquent. I have never addressed a court before nor had any real oratory experience, and I find myself quite nervous to do so now.”
She laughed slightly, expecting others to laugh with her, at least out of pity, but none did. So, she took a deep breath and continued. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting most of you personally, so I will begin by introducing myself. I am Lady Arianwyn Targaryen.”
“Princess, my dear,” Gerold reminded her with a grimace from where he stood by the base of the throne.
Arianwyn winced. This was precisely why she had prayed this morning. She did not possess a silver tongue. Indeed, at the moment, hers felt much more like lead.
“Yes, forgive me,” she stuttered. “I am still not used to that title yet. It was granted to me only seven days past – or eight, maybe? I actually do not know what day we were wed. It was around midnight. But I am not quite sure whether it was before or after.”
“Aria?” Gerold’s call was unsubtly covered with an obviously false cough. When she looked at him, he widened his eyes to let her know she had already begun to ramble.
She swallowed, taking a moment to straighten her skirts and gather her thoughts. “My apologies, again. I, um… I became a Princess only days ago when I was wed to Prince Aemond Targaryen. Naturally, as it comes from my husband, the title is quite dear to me. However, dearer to me is that which I inherited from my mother, who was well known and, I hope, well-loved by all of you: Rhea Royce, Lady of Runestone.
“That title was given to me on the day of my birth, as it was also the day my mother died,” she fell silent then as all those gathered in the Throne Room bowed their heads in remembrance. Much to her surprise, Jace joined them.
“I am here to speak on behalf of my good brother, King Aegon, Second of His Name,” she looked to Jace then, copying the smug smile he had already given her several times that day. Perhaps it was cruel of her, after he had just offered respects to her mother, but she could not help herself.
“Five days ago, Aegon was crowned by Lord Commander Criston Cole of the Kingsguard in accordance with the laws of the realm and his father’s dying wish. Of course, there are those who would point to the Queen being the only audience to the proclamation as proof that it is untrue. But I have heard the tale from the Queen herself, and I believe with absolutely no hesitation.” She could sense, more than see, the sour expression on Jace’s face at her words.
“It is no secret that King Viserys was long ill,” she continued. “As such, he was often confined to his bed and unable to govern the realm himself. In his absences, it was Queen Alicent who most often sat the Iron Throne in his place, where she proved herself to be wise, kind, and above all else, honorable.
“It would have been well within her right to dispute Rhaenyra’s position as heir from the moment Aegon was born, but she did not.” At least, not publicly, Arianwyn thought. She had overheard more than one conversation suggesting Alicent had brought it up to the King privately. “For years, she steadfastly supported the King’s attestation that Rhaenyra was his heir, despite its dubious legality. I can offer no better proof to the veracity of the King’s change of heart than that.”
A slight nod and a half-smile from Gerold indicated that she had made her point well.
“However, it must be understood that despite the King’s insistence in Rhaenyra’s place as heir for many years, despite whatever oaths he had the Lords of the Realm make, she did lose that position when Aegon was born.”
This was the part she was most nervous about.
“The ruling of the Great Council was clear: a male heir is preferable to a female. Even before the Council was called, this was well understood by law and men. It is why Princess Rhaenys was passed over in favor of my grandsire, Prince Baelon, following her father’s death. And it is why the Great Council voted so overwhelmingly in favor of Viserys’ claim.
“According to the very precedent that gave Viserys his throne, Rhaenyra stopped being the heir from the instant Aegon took his first breath,” she declared.
A murmur made its way through the crowd, and Arianwyn was gratified that most of them seemed to agree with her. However, seeing the dejected expressions on several Ladies’ faces pained her, knowing she had likely just affirmed their deepest insecurities and fears.
She avoided meeting their eyes and instead looked to Jace. “My stepbrother has brought up an interesting point in his interpretation of the Widow’s Law. He is correct that it prevents a man from disinheriting his children from a first wife in favor of the children born to a second wife, but I am afraid it is not actually applicable to the current dispute.
“The purpose of the Widow’s Law is to prevent rightful heirs from being cast aside in favor of their younger half-siblings. But a man’s eldest son, regardless of whether his mother was a first, second, or any other later wife, is the lawful heir before any daughters. Nothing can pass to the daughter so long as there is a son. Therefore, a younger son from a second wife inheriting instead of an elder daughter from a first wife is not a dispossession.”
Arianwyn paused to see Jace’s reaction. He stayed silent and watched her carefully and with more than a little contempt.
According to the plan she had made with Jeyne the day before, she should now tell the court of the dangerous precedent that would be set should Rhaenyra insist that Jace – a bastard – was her heir.
She shouldn’t feel bad about it. It was true, and everyone knew it – even him.
So, why was she now hesitating?
Perhaps it was because many of the Lords in the room were already nodding along as she spoke. If they already agreed with her, she would not have to bring it up. She would not have to hurt him, Luke, or sweet little Joffrey to win the day.
For a heartbeat, she thought she might not even have to speak of Daemon.
But as she examined the crowd to assess how many were already with her, she found there were still more than a few who looked doubtful. It was to win them over that she swallowed her fear and continued.
No, she had to this for more than just winning the Vale. She had to do this because it was, and always was, the right thing to do.
“Of course,” she said with a sweet, placid smile, “you are all wise and intelligent men, with far more political experience than my stepbrother or me. Everything I have said thus far is only a repetition of what I am confident you already know.”
Arianwyn bowed her head and took a deep, steadying breath. “There is one thing more I must tell you before I end my appeal. Something that you do not know. Something that, until now, you could not know. Something concerning my mother and my father.”
Anyone whose interest in the proceedings had waned was suddenly brought back to attention.
“I imagine you all know the story of my mother’s injuries that led to her unfortunate death,” Arianwyn said as she looked around, but none met her eyes. Of course, they did not want to be reminded of something so terrible. “Perhaps some of you even saw them. I must admit, I do not envy you if you did. The descriptions I have been given are enough to curdle my blood, so I will not repeat them here. But I will tell you the story of how she was wounded. For the truth of it is far different from what you have been told, I am afraid.
“That day, my mother set out by herself to hunt, as was her habit. Ser Gerold tells me that she savored the time she spent alone. How she was never happier than when she was in the hills and moorlands of Runestone. Words cannot describe how much it pains me that what happened to her – no, what was done to her – was done in the place she loved so well.”
Arianwyn took another pause to calm herself as a flurry of whisperers flew through the crowd at what she was suggesting with that one little word.
“You were told that her horse startled and fell upon her, leaving her paralyzed and injured. And that it was a miracle that my father happened to be flying nearby when he spotted her, rescued her, and brought her home. That she was so charmed by his heroism that she finally consummated the marriage and fell pregnant with me. I do admit, it is a good story. Like something that I would read in my books.” She laughed slightly – a light, blithe chuckle entirely out of place amongst her solemn words – though she did not know why.
“But that was a lie. My father did not save my mother. He killed her.”
Arianwyn tried to continue but stopped when the clamor rising amongst the crowd grew so loud that she could hardly hear her own voice. She looked frantically to Lady Arryn and Gerold for help, but neither seemed as concerned as she did – they did not seem concerned at all. Rather, they seemed more than happy to let the Lords and Ladies have their moment of panic.
It wasn’t until Arianwyn again looked to Jace that she understood why.
His face was twisted with shock and rage, all directed at Arianwyn. She had just accused the man he so admired of the vilest of crimes – kinslaying. The gravity of such an accusation was not lost on him.
Nor was it lost on the Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Those standing near Jace were now shuffling away, as if the crimes of his stepfather had tainted him as well.
Arianwyn did not pity him.
Why should she? For years, he had ignored Arianwyn’s fear of Daemon, even when it was abundantly obvious.
It was clear in how she blanched whenever her father would look at her. How she would avert her gaze and stand to the side when she encountered him within the castle. How she flinched every time he raised his voice or slammed a hand on the table at dinners.
What did Jace think happened when Daemon dismissed them all from dinner only days ago to speak to his daughter alone? Was he truly so blind he did not see her fear the next day? Had Daemon so thoroughly deluded him that he actually thought her bruises were the work of Aemond’s hands?
Even Jace could not be so stupid.
“Silence!” Jeyne called from her throne. But even she could not wholly calm the chaos that had erupted. “You will all be silent and let the Princess speak!”
Eventually, the room was silent again, as all assembled decided their desire to hear more outweighed their instinct to rage at the accusations.
“I confess I do not know his motivation,” Arianwyn said when she finally began again, “but my father came to the Vale that day to kill my mother. In his cruelty, he apparently decided he would rather her die slowly and in agony than kill her quickly. Raping her was just another insult. He never intended for his seed to find purchase or for me to be born. Indeed, he has made it quite clear to me that his only regret is that I did not die alongside my mother in the birthing bed.”
She went on until she had told them everything.
How Daemon never acknowledged her until Lady Laena’s funeral. The cruel words he had said to her then. How he had taken her to Dragonstone not out of fatherly duty but to punish her for fighting with his other daughters. The neglect she endured on the island and the threats he made against her there.
The details of how Jace and Baela had treated her, she left out. It would serve no purpose to share them. And besides, he knew as little of this story as the rest of them – that much was clear from the abject horror growing on his face with every passing moment.
But she did speak of Rhaenyra. How she ignored Arianwyn for years, even after she became her stepmother. What she had said in the garden at Dragonstone, revealing that she knew what Daemon had done while belittling it and calling it merely “regrettable.”
How the would-be Queen had only stood there when Daemon wrapped his hands around Arianwyn’s throat. How she said nothing when he called her a ‘whore’ and a ‘virgin cunt’ to be sold for his own advantage. How she had stared blankly when Daemon threatened to kill Arianwyn.
Just as she had in the Throne Room while Daemon spun his horrible little story about Aemond, trying to pass the blame for his own attempt on Arianwyn’s life to her new husband.
Rhaenyra had only stepped in when it became clear Daemon was coming dangerously close to exposing himself – and her.
Arianwyn fell silent then. She could have continued, released all her anger in one fiery burst, and shouted so loud the gods could hear that Rhaenyra was unfit to be Queen and that Daemon was an even worse choice for King.
But she did not.
Revealing the story to the world, at last, had exhausted her body and soul. Besides, there was nothing she could say that could possibly make her case more convincingly than the simple truth.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jeyne broke the silence. And with it, the spell of horrified shock that had enveloped the High Hall – perhaps the entire Eyrie.
“I will offer only one correction,” Jeyne said, her voice as raw as though she had been crying. Perhaps she had, and Arianwyn just had not noticed. “There was a miracle, dear Arianwyn. It was a miracle that Rhea survived long enough to deliver you.”
-
“Where’s Aria?” Aemond grunted as he slid off his borrowed horse once he was in the courtyard of the Red Keep.
Faintly, he could hear servants working, people chattering, and even the low bleats of sheep. But his ears were still echoing with the sounds of the storm.
He stumbled as he stepped away from the horse, cursing his mind for abandoning his body like this. Thankfully, someone was there to catch him.
“Aria?” he sighed in relief. That was Rune-etched bronze armor before his eyes, perhaps the most comforting sight in the world.
But the voice that came from his rescuer was deep and gruff.
Not Aria, then.
Aemond couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. It sounded as though it was coming from behind a thick wall of stone.
“Take me to Aria,” he commanded, pushing away from whichever of his wife’s guards had caught him.
He stumbled again as he climbed the steps into the Keep but caught himself before he fell. It would not do to let the servants and courtiers see him in such a state, to see him weak.
He was Prince Aemond Targaryen, son of King Viserys and brother to King Aegon II. He was a warrior. A scholar. The rider of the largest dragon –
Dammit.
The thought of Vhagar brought another bout of pain and nausea coursing through him. He dove into the first alcove he saw and doubled over, emptying what little was left in his stomach onto the stone floor.
An armor-clad hand came to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “My Prince?”
Aemond shook it off, growling. This time, he caught a glimpse of brownish hair – the guard had removed his helmet. Still, he couldn’t tell who it was. His vision was too blurry.
“Do not touch me,” he moaned half-heartedly. Then, summoning all his strength, he stood once more.
Every step towards his apartments took the whole of his concentration – every remaining drop of his strength to hold whatever was left of his mind in place.
He likely would have failed had each beat of his heart not whispered to him: “Aria. Aria. Aria.”
All he needed was to reach her, collapse into her arms, and all would be well. She would make everything alright again. She could wake him from this nightmare and banish the darkness from his heart.
He just needed to get to her.
After what seemed like hours, he finally reached the dark wood door to their chambers.
The Runes he and Aria had carved into them years and years ago seemed to be lit from within, as worn as they had become over the years. Aemond ran a hand over them, and with each line, his resolve seemed to strengthen.
He was so close. She was right behind the door.
The metal of the door handle was cool, just like her touch – the touch that would soon soothe him.
But as the door creaked open, his heart sank, and his stomach roiled.
The hearth was empty. The fire unlit. The curtains drawn. The room dark.
Aria was not there.
“Where is she?” Aemond hissed as his weak, traitorous, broken body began to tremble and shake. “Where is my wife?”
He turned slightly to the guard that had followed him here – or guards? There appeared to be three of them now. Or perhaps his vision was multiplying.
“The Princess has not yet returned, my Prince.”
Aemond’s body went unnaturally still at those words, as his mind returned to him for only as long as it took for his world to shatter.
-
A small but not insignificant number of Lords had immediately made an impassioned plea – or, more accurately, demand – for Jeyne to declare war upon Rhaenyra and Daemon, not for their false claim to the Iron Throne, but for the rape and murder of Rhea Royce, and for the mistreatment of her daughter.
They had flocked to the base of the Weirwood throne shouting their demand the moment Jeyne finished speaking, forcing Arianwyn to retreat back to her place by Gerold’s side.
“Is this… good?” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the display before her.
Gerold wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I think this is perhaps the best outcome we could have hoped for, my dear.”
“So, you aren’t upset with me for telling them?”
He laughed as they watched one of the Lords surrounding Jeyne, a man who looked as old as time itself, start brandishing his cane like it was either a sword, a magic staff, or both.
“No, Aria,” he assured her. “I was quite nervous about what it would prompt Daemon to do, but I cannot deny its effectiveness. And if he does seek reprisals against you, I think all we must do is send Lord Upcliff to defend you. Gods, I thought he could hardly walk any more – just look at him!”
Indeed, the once doddering old man looked as though he was ready to lead the Knights of the Vale into battle himself.
As amused as Arianwyn and Gerold were, Jeyne’s smile at the reaction from her men had long since faded.
“My Lords!” she shouted again as her guards tried to pull the men away from the throne. “There will be no war today! So please – calm down!”
While the guards continued dispersing the irate Lords of the Vale, Arianwyn let her eyes drift across the High Hall to Jace.
He had said nothing since she revealed the truth. He had not even moved. His eyes were wide with shock and horror, his mouth hanging slightly open, and his brow furrowed. When he met her gaze, his expression hardened into one of anger.
Not at Arianwyn, as it had always been, but for her.
She could not bear the weight of that look, yet she could not turn away from it.
“Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne called, breaking him away from his ceaseless staring. “You are the only representative present from Dragonstone. In the interest of justice, I here offer you the opportunity to defend your stepfather against the accusations levied against him. Have you anything to say to the court?”
Jace’s mouth opened and closed, words forming and then dying on his lips. Finally, after a moment of fruitless scrambling for something to say, he glanced back to Arianwyn, and his face crumpled.
“Nothing, my Lady,” he whispered as he looked down to his feet, weakly shaking his head.  
“Then I think we can forgo any further debate or discussion,” Jeyne declared. “As well as the lengthy process of a formal vote on this matter. I feel that we have heard more than sufficient evidence to know what we must now do without a doubt.”
Jeyne pursed her lips before looking back to the Lords suspiciously. “But, of course, I have the utmost respect for our laws and traditions. So, I will tell you what I propose we do. And should any of you wish to disagree with me, I will allow you to explain why before I ignore you and do what I believe is right anyway.”
Arianwyn almost laughed aloud while Jessamyn sighed and rolled her eyes. But no one else acknowledged the humor, so they both remained silent.
“It is my intention to declare my support for Aegon Targaryen as King,” Jeyne proclaimed, her voice once more that of the Lady of the Vale. “While I have always believed that in this world of men, women must band together, I cannot reconcile myself with Princess Rhaenyra’s abysmally poor choice of consort.
“Even if the law were on her side, and the Iron Throne was hers by right, it is my belief that her willful association with Daemon Targaryen renders her unfit to rule. It is most unseemly for a woman to stand by a man who has mistreated women – women I love – as severely as Daemon Targaryen has. I cannot forgive her complicity in his crimes. That is in the hands of the gods, though I have my doubts that even the Father himself would pardon such sins.”
With a deep, steadying breath, Jeyne braced her hands on the arms of her throne and looked imperiously over the men she ruled. “Is there any who would oppose this decision?”
Lord Sunderland began to speak but swiftly changed his mind. Then, though it obviously pained him, he bowed his head in acquiescence.
“Then it is decided,” Jeyne proclaimed with a wide grin. “The Vale and all its people hereby recognize Aegon, Second of His Name, as the rightful heir to his father, King Viserys, and as the one true Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”
She paused to allow applause – louder than it had been for Jace’s petition – to again sweep through the room as her steward led chants of ‘Aegon the King.’
But she did not move to dismiss the court. Instead, she turned to her godsdaughter. “Princess Arianwyn?” she called, only continuing when the girl was again standing before her. “You have presented yourself well today. You should be proud.”
Indeed, Arianwyn was filled with such pride and relief that she felt her chest would burst for it. But she tried to remain humble as she bowed her head. “Thank you, godsmother.”
“You are very welcome, my dear,” Jeyne cooed fondly before slipping back into her more regal demeanor. “But your mission is only half-accomplished, is it not?”
“Yes, my Lady,” Arianwyn said quickly. “The King has asked that I negotiate for the support of your troops, should they be needed to defend his crown.”
“I do not think ‘negotiation’ is necessary,” Jeyne laughed. “I have only two requests of our new King, and I do not imagine he will object much to either. Will you hear them?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
“First, I ask that he use every tool at the Crown’s disposal to bring Daemon Targaryen to justice and ensure that he is punished in accordance with the severity of his crimes.”
Arianwyn nodded eagerly, too overwhelmed by the ferocity with which Jeyne spoke – a ferocity which suggested she would tear Daemon apart herself if given the chance – to say anything.
“My second request may be somewhat more difficult, I am afraid. Should war break out, it will be fought with dragons. Now, I have no fear of armies. Many and more have broken themselves against my Bloody Gate, and the Eyrie is known to be impregnable. But you,” she nodded to Jacaerys as well, “the both of you, have descended on us from the sky, as Queen Visenya once did during the Conquest, and I was powerless to halt you.
“The decisions I have made today, and truths that were revealed in my keep, will no doubt reach Daemon’s ears. Should he come seeking retribution, I must not be powerless to defend myself and my people. Send me dragonriders.” There was a flicker of genuine fear in Jeyne’s dark eyes as she spoke. Fear that her people would suffer the consequences of her actions – however righteous they were.
Arianwyn understood that fear. It was the same that had kept her and Emrys from escaping Dragonstone for all those years.
“I will do what I can, my Lady,” she said, hoping it would be enough. “I have little involvement in matters of war, but should it be necessary, Emrys and I shall come and defend the Eyrie ourselves.”
“Nothing would make me feel safer,” Jeyne agreed. Then, with a dramatic sweeping of her skirts as she stood, she descended her throne to take Arianwyn’s arm and begin leading her from the High Hall. “Speaking of your delightful dragon, I believe you are past due to fly home to your equally delightful husband...”
-
“Where is she?” Aemond demanded. His body had begun to shake again, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Only one thing mattered.
Arianwyn.
He felt the uncomfortable sensation of hot, salty tears pooling in his empty eye.
Oh gods. The sapphire was gone, as was the patch.
How many people had seen his true, monstrous self?
Aemond’s feet began carrying him to the bedchamber before he heard the guards reply – if they had replied at all. He pushed open the door so hard the wood cracked, but he did not stop.
Not until he reached the mirror.
The one he had set into the eastern wall. So that he could see his sapphire every morning and think of Aria. So he could see himself as she would – as she did – as the man, not the monster.
There was nothing left of the man in his reflection now.
His skin and hair were stained with his own blood, only interrupted by the clean tracks left by his tears.
His one eye was wide, wet, and bloodshot – the eye of a cornered, feral beast, not a civilized man or Prince.
His lips were so dry they had begun to crack and bleed, and the remnants of his sick were still at the corners of his mouth.
The wounds he had inflicted on himself were savage and deep. They would likely scar, but he did not care.
Aemond recognized the monster reflected back at him.
It was him, as he truly was, behind all his masks and lies.
“Where is she?” he asked, though he did not know whether the guards had followed him. “Why isn’t she here? I need her.”
He needed her so badly.
He would die if he did not find her.
He would die and go to the deepest hell, where he belonged.
He would never see her again.
She was good. Her soul was pure – she would not be sent to the hells.
While he suffered for eternity, she would live in bliss alongside the gods.
She would forget him, the broken man she had felt enough pity for to shackle herself to him in life.
Aemond hoped she would forget him quickly. He did not want her to suffer on his behalf.
He did not want to shadow her beautiful soul with the darkness that lived in him.
He screamed, the harrowing sound coming from the very depths of his broken soul, as he threw his fist into the mirror with all his might.
It shattered into a million tiny shards of pure silver, exploding throughout the room.
Each new cut on his face and each sliver of glass embedded into his hand at once anchored Aemond to reality and pulled him further into his distant, dark soul.
Suddenly, a hand brushed his shoulder.
He was so entirely consumed by the monster staring back at him that, even through the mirror, he had not noticed anyone approaching.
His training kicked in, and he moved on instinct.
He shoved the hand on his shoulder away as he turned, reaching for his assailant. Finding another arm, thin and fragile, he seized it with all his strength and twisted, twisted, twisted. Until he heard them scream in pain.
But he knew that scream.
Kirin.
At once, Aemond’s mind came racing back, and he was what was before him – what he was doing.
His hand was wrapped around Kirin’s arm – his bad arm – bending and pulling it past its natural limits. His manservant’s face was distorted in pain as he screamed, but his blue eyes were filled only with concern for his master.
Aemond pulled away the moment the guards burst into the room. Ser Conin and Ser Christor grabbed Kirin as he fell, immediately rushing him out of the apartments. To the Maesters, no doubt.
Ser Warren remained behind, his dark gaze fixed on the Prince, assessing him as a threat. But then, the old man saw the wounds on his face, the tear tracks through the blood, and the fear in his eye.
“My Prince,” Warren said, his voice soft and careful, as though he were trying to soothe a rabid dog. “Princess Arianwyn has not returned. She is expected tonight. Is there someone else I can summon to… help you?”
Aemond took a step back into the broken shards of the mirror, wishing that one of them would break through the leather of the boot and cut him. He needed more pain, worse pain, anything to anchor him to reality until Arianwyn was back.
“Get out,” Aemond whispered, his voice too broken to shout again, as he wanted to. “Get out. Leave me alone. If anyone other than Aria comes in here … I will kill them.”
Not a threat, exactly, but the expression of genuine fear. If he could hurt Kirin – his trusted servant and friend – he was capable of hurting anyone.
Except Arianwyn. Never her.
Ser Warren nodded and left quickly, muttering something about stationing guards at the door.
Aemond staggered through the rooms to the door, falling against it and ensuring the lock was turned. Only Arianwyn held the key to unlock it – only she could free him from this cage.
Or perhaps she would leave him in here. It would be safer to keep the monster contained, where it could hurt no one.
But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even see him as a monster.
For once, the thought brought him more pain than comfort.
He didn’t want to be anchored to reality, he wanted to escape it.
He stumbled across the room once more. Not to the bedchamber, but to the cabinet he knew had been recently stocked with Arianwyn’s favorite wines. Flavored with fruit and flowers, their taste was as delicate as the woman who loved them.
His body was so out of his control that he ripped the door off the cabinet rather than opening it. It didn’t matter. He had what he needed.
He had always hated that loss of self and control. It was why he had always avoided wine for so long. And it was precisely why he needed it now – to hasten his mind’s retreat and keep him far away from reality until Arianwyn was here again.
Aemond grabbed the first bottle he could reach, ripped out the cork, and began to drink.
-
Jeyne, Gerold, and Jessamyn were the only ones to accompany Arianwyn to the gardens to say goodbye. Emrys, who had fallen asleep too quickly the night of their arrival to greet anyone, was thrilled to see Gerold again, and even more so to meet his rider’s godmother and her companion.
While Gerold was already acquainted with the dragon and knew how to approach him, Jeyne and Jessamyn wore twin expressions of equal delight and terror as they strode toward the great beast. Thankfully, Emrys was one of the friendlier dragons in Westeros, especially when the new people he met approached hand-in-hand with his rider.
Still, Jessamyn’s knees buckled when she first touched his smooth black scales, requiring Jeyne to catch her before she fell. Emrys immediately swiveled his head to check on her, prompting an outpouring of laughter from everyone.
Laughter that ended the moment Arianwyn spotted Jacaerys enter the gardens, lock eyes with her, and begin to walk her way.
“I’m leaving,” she hissed to Gerold as she started to climb into the saddle. “Right now.”
“Arianwyn,” Gerold scolded, grabbing the back of her armor to halt her. Even when he had not been training for many months, he was still much stronger than her, allowing him to hold her still despite her protestations and wriggling. “If he wants to say goodbye, you should let him. He is your cousin and stepbrother. And you all but humiliated him today. You owe him this.”
Looking to Jeyne and Jessamyn for support was useless, as they both muttered their agreement with Gerold.
“Please?” she begged pathetically as Gerold hoisted her from the stirrups and set her gently but firmly back on the ground, making her feel like she was no more than a ragdoll.
Again, it was to no avail. Jeyne stepped forward to tuck away a few strands of hair that had already come loose from Arianwyn’s braid as she whispered, “You have proved yourself a skilled diplomat today. Consider this but one final test, yes?”
“Will you stay with me?” Arianwyn asked, leaning into her godsmother’s touch.
Jeyne sighed and kissed her godsdaughter’s forehead. “No, my dear. I think you need to do this alone. There is more between the two of you than what happened today. If war is coming, you should make peace while you can.”
Arianwyn could not quite see the logic of making peace in preparation for war, but reluctantly agreed. Not wanting to show weakness, she held back her tears while she said goodbye to her cousin, godsmother, and whatever one calls their godsmother’s secret lover.
Then they left, passing Jace on their way back into the Eyrie. Jeyne and Jessamyn only politely dipped their heads to the Prince as they walked by, while Gerold stopped and grabbed his arm to whisper something to him before moving on.
Emrys growled as he approached, angling his head and wings to hide Arianwyn as best he could. At least he supported her.
“I want to talk to you,” Jace pled after several minutes of trying and failing to outmaneuver the dragon.
“And why should you ever want that?” she hissed, her voice muffled through the membrane of Emrys’ wing.
“I think after what you just said in there,” he huffed, “I deserve some answers.”
“Mmm,” Arianwyn hummed, fastening her bag to Emrys’ saddle a little too tightly. The dragon grunted, though he directed his frustration not at his rider but at the bastard Prince that was upsetting her. “I didn’t think I left any room for questions.”
Jace groaned in frustration. “Aria…”
“Do not call me that!” she shouted, abandoning her preparations for departure and bursting from beneath Emrys’ wing to round on her stepbrother. When she reached him, she shoved him as hard as he could. “You do not get to call me that!”
He stumbled back but did not move to retaliate. Instead, he held out his arms to try and dissuade her from attacking again. And to placate Emrys, who was viciously baring his teeth.
Arianwyn was disappointed. For a moment, she thought she might get to use the dagger Aemond gave her, now strapped to the belt of her riding leathers. She did have a better record with live targets, after all. But whatever her desires, she would not attack unprovoked.
She rolled her eyes as she stepped back to Emrys. “You may speak until I am ready to depart. I would be quick about it if I were you – I am anxious to return home.”
Jace scoffed as he took a cautious step forward, “To your one-eyed beast of a husband?”
That was provocation enough for Arianwyn.
She drew her dagger and whirled around. Rather than try and bring the blade to his throat, she grabbed his collar and pulled him to the blade. It worked much better than the lunging attacks Aemond had forced her to practice. She did not press hard enough to cut, only to apply enough pressure for him to think twice before talking again.
“My ‘one-eyed beast of a husband’ taught me how to use this,” she spat. Only partly true – he had taught her how to hold it. They had not had much success past that. But she understood the concept of the dagger well enough. She did not need much training to know which end would cut. “Would you like me to show you, bastard?”
At the pain that went through his dark eyes at the word, she almost regretted the insult. She had never used it before – she always thought she was in no place to judge someone on their parentage.
But she would not endure insults to Aemond. Especially not from Jace.
He and his brother were the cause of so much of Aemond’s pain. What was a single cruel and undeniably true word against what they had done to him? To what he had said to her on Driftmark over the past six years?
She could not decipher the expression on his face as he pulled as far away from her blade as he could. His eyes were sorrowful, but his mouth was curled in a sneer. “Do you really hate me that much?”
Arianwyn was taken aback, so much so that she released his collar and let him stumble away from her dagger. “What?”
He looked to be almost on the verge of tears as he looked at her beseechingly. “Do you hate me, Arianwyn?”
She expected him to accuse her of lying about her father and his mother. To demand she recant all that she had said. Or even to try and stop her from leaving.
But, true to form, he had asked her another stupid question.
“You spent our entire childhood making Aemond miserable,” she said, her voice thick with anger and confusion. He moved to refute or argue with her, but she raised her blade again to stop him. “He never did anything to you, yet you took every opportunity to torment him – whether Aegon was there or not. It was you who brought the knife to that fight!”
Jace looked away from her, lips thin with anger. But he said nothing as she continued her tirade.
“You had to know it was him.” she dropped the hand holding the dagger to her side as tears welled in her eyes. “When you came to the tunnel. Rhaena was with you, so who else could it have been?”
She began to laugh as her tears fell, and she waved her hand, in which the dagger was now only loosely gripped, as she spoke. “You saw Vhagar and knew it was Aemond. And you were not as desperate or ill-educated as Rhaena. You knew that he had not ‘stolen’ her,” she spat, the word that had long caused her animosity with her youngest half-sister disgusting her still. “You knew it was his birthright to claim a dragon.”
Arianwyn had never intended to say so much to him, having responded to his taunts with as few words as possible for so long. But he had somehow unearthed a rage buried deep within her, feelings toward him that she had not known were there.
“It had been his birthright to have an egg to warm his cradle – as you and I both did – but he was denied that, as he was denied so much by his father,” she laughed again. “But what would you know about that? Viserys always loved you and your brothers so well. And you have been blessed with an excess of fathers: Laenor Velaryon, Harwin Strong, and now Daemon.”
Her laughter faded, and her bitter smile fell. “It’s disgusting, you know. How you follow Daemon around like a dog, begging for his attention and praise. What is it you expect from him? You don’t really think he’ll let you inherit anything, do you? He has two trueborn sons with Rhaenyra. Not even you can be so foolish as to think he’d let a bastard take the throne before them.”
She took a heaving breath, fully intending to continue her tirade, but then Jace moved. He snatched the dagger out of her hand, sending it clattering across the flagstones and into the bushes. When her silver gaze finally left him to stare at it in disbelief, he grabbed her but the shoulders.
“Arianwyn,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “I just want to know – ”
“Why did you bring that knife?” she screamed with all the breath in her lungs, then fell silent.
She had not known it, but that question had burned in her mind for more than six years. It had fueled every frustration she ever held for him. It was the reason his every word grated on her – why she had always bristled under his gaze.
Luke’s hand had stolen Aemond’s eye, but Jace’s knife made the cut.
Jace did not answer, though he did let go of her. As she glared at him, he could not meet her eye.
“What did you plan to do to him?” She asked, as still as the stone of the mountains surrounding them. “If I hadn’t been there, what would you have done?”
“Nothing,” he sighed, his lip curled in a scowl. “I just… I wanted to scare him.”
“Why?”
“Because I did not like him.”
“He had never done anything to you, or anyone,” Arianwyn said, still not understanding. “He is your uncle – he wanted to be your friend. At Laena’s funeral, he tried to tell you he was sorry about Ser Harwin’s death. Why did you dislike him so?”
Jace released his grip and turned his back on her, so all she could see was his dark hair blowing in the breeze as he looked at the statue of Alyssa Arryn, only steps away.
“He had you.”
Arianwyn had never felt so lost. Her mouth hung open as she stared at him, desperate for him to say just one thing that made sense. “He ‘had’ me? What does that even mean?”
“You were always with him!” he shouted as he whirled around to her again, though he never met her eyes. “At meals and parties, in your lessons, in the library. Seven hells, you even came to watch him train even though you hate fighting!”
“He was – and is – my best friend. I was always with him because I liked being with him,” she countered, brow furrowing tighter. “Just like you were always with Luke and Aegon.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Jace said, laughing darkly and shaking his head.
Arianwyn scoffed, “I don’t even know what the ‘thing’ is!”
“It – ” the muscles in his jaw were so tight they seemed about to snap. “It was… frustrating to me. That I could never talk to you without him being there.”
“Still, it never seemed to stop you,” she said, crossing her arms. “Or Aegon.”
He had the courtesy to look mildly regretful. “That wasn’t talking.”
“No, it was ridicule.”
“And it wasn’t you that we were – ”
“It might as well have been.”
“Can you please just – ”
“What do you want from me, Jace?”
“I’m trying to tell you that I love you, dammit!” he roared.
Arianwyn felt as though she had woken suddenly from a nightmare. She stumbled back until she hit Emrys’ scales, then slid down until she was slumped against him with her head in her hands. “Tell me this is just another of your stupid jokes, or I am going to vomit.”
Jace grimaced and kicked the tip of his boot against the side of a loose flagstone. “I’m sorry.”
While she didn’t vomit, Arianwyn let out a miserable, guttural groan that sounded quite close to vomiting. “How can you love me if you don’t even like me?”
“I do like you,” he answered, still not daring to approach her or her angry dragon. “I’ve always liked you.”
Arianwyn finally raised her head, leaning against Emrys’ hot scales as she looked up at her stepbrother. “You don’t treat people you like the way you’ve treated me. You’re cruel to me.”
“No,” he sighed, stepping toward her just enough to earn a warning growl from Emrys. “It’s not cruelty, I promise. It’s jokes, teasing – that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”
“But we aren’t friends, Jace,” she countered, hating herself for feeling badly when he looked hurt by her words. “We never have been.”
“Why not?”
“Because you aren’t nice to me!”
“You wouldn’t talk to me if I was nice to you!”
“How do you know? Did you ever try?”
Jace opened his mouth, but what came out was more of a quiet squawk than an actual word. Arianwyn could do nothing but look at him in bewilderment as he recalled their every interaction. His face scrunched like he was trying to solve some great mystery.
“You didn’t,” she answered for him, lacking the patience to let him figure it out for himself. “Even once I was on Dragonstone, where Aemond couldn’t ‘have’ me, you were never nice to me. None of you were, except Rhaena. She’s the only one who ever apologized to me for what you did on Driftmark.”
He stared blankly at where Emrys had wrapped the tip of his tail around Arianwyn. A gentle touch of comfort, protection, and possessiveness from a beast capable of such awesome death and destruction.
She closed her eyes and let herself imagine that the touch was not Emrys but Aemond. That it was his warmth she was feeling. But if Aemond were here, if he heard what Jace was saying to her…
Perhaps it was a good thing her husband was so far away.
“So, you do hate me,” Jace whispered as the revelation finally came to him, “and… I deserve it.”
Arianwyn rolled her eyes, prepared to say something cutting, but then she saw the devastation and self-loathing on his face. She swallowed the retort, along with the slight pang of guilt in her chest. “Well, maybe not ‘hate,’ exactly. Just… very, very strong dislike.”
“That is the definition of hate,” he replied with a sad laugh.
“I’m sorry,” Arianwyn said, and despite herself, she meant it.
He shook his head, shoulders drooping. “No, don’t do that. I should be the one to apologize to you. For how I’ve treated you, for the things I’ve said, and for… everything with Aemond.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. It was not forgiveness, for that would require more than a simple apology. All she would – could – give him was acknowledgment. That she had heard his words, that she understood him. That, perhaps, forgiveness was possible.
Sensing the tension disappear, Emrys rose from his protective crouch and flexed his wings. He stretched a bit, testing the weight of all the saddlebags – and the sword, Lamentation, carefully attached to the side of Arianwyn’s seat. There had been a place for a weapon built into his saddle, but it had never been used until now.
“I think he’s ready to leave,” Jace sighed.
Arianwyn stood and looked back to her mount. He certainly was. She could tell by how he leaned down on one side – his way of asking her to climb on. She smiled, stroking his side before gripping the first handhold of the saddle.
“Can I…” Jace started, making her stop her ascent for a moment. “Can I ask you one more question before you go?”
Emrys bristled at the further delay but did not make any other attempts to intimidate the boy. Arianwyn didn’t respond until she was settled in the saddle with the leather straps around her thighs fastened. “You may.”
Jace looked up at her, brown eyes pleading and shoulders squared. Arianwyn knew that whatever he was about to ask, the answer was monumentally important to him.
“If things had been different,” he began, never breaking his gaze from hers for more than a blink, “if I had been different – been better… could you ever have loved me? Chosen me, instead of him?”
Arianwyn froze. He had just given her the power to break his heart.
She knew she should think about her answer, should try and imagine a world where Jace had been kind and sweet. One where it may have been him to spend those long days in the library with her. Or one where, once they were on Dragonstone, he changed to her and became the Prince to rescue her from her tower.
But none of those imaginings could even begin to form in her mind.
For each time, her mind instead conjured an image of a story she’d so often been told. Two white-haired babes – one swaddled in green, one in bronze – meeting for the first time. Smiles breaking across their still-pink, chubby cheeks as they reached toward each other with clumsy arms.
They had never stopped reaching for each other. And they never would.
“No,” she said. She knew it was the answer he was dreading, but no matter what he had done, he deserved the truth. And this was a truth etched into her heart, her soul. “It was always Aemond.”
Though his eyes began to water, Jace smiled tightly as he nodded. “I am very happy for you, that you are so happy. And… I will try to be happy for him as well.”
Arianwyn knew that ‘try’ was the most important word in that sentiment, but she smiled back anyway as she grasped Emrys’ reins. “Thank you, Jace. I will pray that you and Baela can find the same happiness in your own union.”
She meant it. When the betrothal was announced, she saw how excited Baela was. How her half-sister had looked so deeply in love the night of the dinner. If Jace would allow himself to, they could find genuine love together.
He pursed his lips in a way that usually meant he was about to make some snide comment, but he bit it back with a twitch of his head. Then, he stepped away from Arianwyn and Emrys, giving the dragon ample space to take flight.
“The next time we see each other,” Jace called, his voice sodden with regret. “We may very well be true enemies. It will be my duty to hurt you. Or kidnap you. Or...”
“I think it is more than likely, I’m afraid,” she agreed.
Jace was silent for a moment, looking down at his shuffling feet. “Aria?”
Though she still bristled at hearing him call her that, she did not comment on it. “Yes, Jace?”
He took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. “Promise me that whatever happens, you will stay far, far away from Daemon.”
So, he did believe her story.
To her surprise, she felt no instinct to gloat. On the contrary, she was touched by how worried he was about her.
“Don’t worry,” she said in consolation, allowing herself a slight grin. After all, she was most comfortable around Jace when she was teasing him. But now, her tone was far more playful than spiteful. “I was planning on doing that anyway.”
Then Emrys took to the sky, hollering in delight that he was finally going home –where Arianwyn knew her husband would be waiting for her.
-
Aemond waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Still, Arianwyn did not come.
How long had he been sitting on their bedroom floor amongst the shards of shattered glass, just waiting?
Minutes?
Hours?
Days?
Years?
An eternity?
He blinked slowly, his eye dry and heavy. And far too blurry to see where he had put his bottle.
So, he reached out blindly, discarding the empty bottles he found and savoring the clattering sound they made as they rolled across the floor. The pain it caused his aching head reminded him that he was alive and served as the beginning of the punishment he deserved.
Finally, he found a half-full bottle and brought it to his lips. Then, after another long gulp, he rested it against his heaving chest.
Night had fallen – or fallen again, if he had indeed been here more than a day. Moonlight shone through the window, reflecting off the pieces of mirror sprawled on the floor as it had once reflected off his sapphire.
But Aemond did not look at the moonlight. He could not appreciate its strange beauty.
He could only stare at the impenetrable darkness in the corner of the room.
It seemed to have emerged from within his broken soul.
And from within, staring at him like a wolf in the night, was the horrible, simple truth that he felt infinitely more guilt for hurting Kirin than he did for killing Luke.
It was that truth that made him a monster.
“Aria…” he whispered, his voice hardly more than a breath. Even as he drank, he did not dare look away from the darkness as he called out for his wife.
And he did not stop.
Next Chapter
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wibblewomble · 1 year
Text
Ranking Ajins by Death Toll
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Oh but count them I did.
Have you ever wanted a comprehensive list of Ajin deaths? Well, here is one anyways!
The list is based on manga events as I actually haven't seen the anime 😬
The ranking only includes Ajins (AKA revivable characters) because otherwise the list would be…even longer than it is and 90% of it would be no-name characters. They also MUST make an appearance (so ruling out mentioned Ajins, like the Chinese Ajin with 2,000+ deaths).
Without further ado, AJIN CHARACTERS RANKED FROM MOST TO LEAST DEATHS!
...under the cut (I’m sorry, it is very long)...
🚨CW for Ajin typical shenanigans (death, mutilation, suicide, the like)🚨
Ranking by onscreen/shown deaths
Satou (44 deaths)
Kei Nagai (35 deaths)
Kou Nakano (15 deaths)
Koji Tanaka (9 deaths) TIE
Izumi Shimomura (9 deaths) TIE
Takahashi (6 deaths)
Masumi Okuyama (4 deaths)
Shinya Nakamura (2 deaths)
Reiji Akiyama (firefighter) (1 death) TIE
Himeko Tachibana (diet member passing the Ajin bill) (1 death) TIE
Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag) (1 death) TIE
Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs) (1 death) TIE
Ranking by estimations
Koji Tanaka (5,892 deaths)
Satou (692 deaths)
Kei Nagai (347 deaths)
Kou Nakano (215 deaths)
Izumi Shimomura (9 deaths)
Takahashi (7 deaths)
Masumi Okuyama (5 deaths)
Shinya Nakamura (2 deaths)TIE
Reiji Akiyama (firefighter) (2 deaths) TIE
Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag) (2 deaths) TIE
Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs) (2 deaths) TIE
Himeko Tachibana (diet member passing the Ajin bill) (1 death)
Everyone gets +1 to account for their first death in the estimation rankings (except Satou, Kei, Kou, Izumi, Shinya, and Ms. Tachibana because their first deaths were shown and already counted in the initial ranking)
Ajin’s with too little information to estimate (at least one death)
Takeshi Kotobuki
Jun Suzuki
Dr. Smith
Jim
Satou detractor (with the glasses)
Satou collaborator (with the glasses)
✨Honorable mention✨
Kai (by technicality)
Let’s go into some more detail about each death and estimation calculations.
Deaths are listed chronologically by manga appearance. “S” means it was self-inflicted with intention. They have to be the ones to cause the fatal blow (aside from one exception, being Izumi throwing herself in front of a car). Assisted suicide, like Tanaka stabbing Satou as a demonstration, does not count as self-inflicted.
Koji Tanaka
Gunshot to head (chpt 1)
Crushed by hydraulic press (chpt 2)
Stabbed with rods (chpt 3)
Neurological experiments (assumed) (chpt 3)
Dismemberment by lab researchers (assumed) (chpt 3)
Collision trauma (used as a crash test dummy) (chpt 14)
Gunshot to head by Gen (chpt 33)
Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 37)
Assumed reset (shoulder wound from Satou is gone) (chpt 43) S
+1 for first death (implied in chpt 13).
+1 assumed reset after being accidentally shot by Satou in chapter 41. His shoulder wound is gone and he (or the rest of the gang for that matter) probably wouldn’t wait for it to heal.
+1 assumed reset at some point after chapter 56. His leg wound—where he got stabbed by the minister's goons—disappears. Could have been forgotten about, could be he’s still walking around with it, but I think they would want to be in top shape when fighting Satou, so I’m counting it as a reset.
+5,880 for deaths while in captivity. Some were already included, but it pales in comparison to the total count. Tanaka was probably subject to experiments everyday. Let’s assume 3 deaths per hour (accounting for setup time and various death methods), 8 hours in a working day, and 245 working days in a year (Japanese work duration from Google). Which means in 10 years that’s 5,880 deaths. This is a very VERY general approximation, not taking into account probable overtime, lengthier experiments resulting in slower deaths, or extremely fast causes of death like getting shot. Regardless, with 10 years of captivity, Tanaka’s death toll is certainly the highest.
Tanaka’s total estimated deaths: 9 + 5,883 = 5,892
1 suicide, 2 estimated suicides
Satou
Stabbed by Tanaka (chpt 6)
Gunshot to head (chpt 9) S
Shot multiple times by Kei (chpt 10)
Stabbed and tossed around by Kei's IBM (chpt 11)
Shot by Tanaka (accidentally) (chpt 15)
Plane crash (chpt 19) S
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 20)
Shot by SAT (chpt 21)
Shot by SAT (chpt 21)
Shot by SAT (chpt 21)
Shotgun to the chest (chpt 21) S
Diced by wood-chipper (chpt 35) S
Caught in explosion (chpt 36) S
Gunshot to head (chpt38) S
Gunshot to head by Kuroki (chpt 38)
Gunshot to head by Kuroki and Suzumura (chpt 38)
Gunshot to head by Kuroki and Suzumura (chpt 38)
Gunshot to head (chpt 38) S
Gunshot to head (chpt 40) S
Impaled by own IBM (chpt 40) S
Gunshot to head (after severing arm) (chpt 42) S
Jumped off Forge Safety building (chpt 42) S
Gunshot to head by gang members (chpt 47) FIRST DEATH
Decapitation by Takahashi's IBM (chpt 52)
Gunshot to head (assumed) (chpt 54) S
Shot by soldiers (chpt 54)
Shot by soldiers (chpt 54)
Gunshot to head (chpt 54) S
Blown up by C4 (chpt 54) S
Shot by soldiers (after intended suicide detonation) (chpt 55)
Gunshot to head (chpt 57) S
Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 60) S
Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 61) S
Bomb vest and plance crash (assumed, offscreen) (chpt 62) S
Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 65) S
Bomb vest and plance crash (assumed, offscreen) (chpt 65) S
Bomb vest (chpt 71) S
Gunshot to head (after severing arm, assumed) (chpt 71) S
Head trauma/snapped neck from falling from heli after being shot by Manabe (chpt 76)
+40 for deaths from organ harvesting. Satou trades 10 livers, 10 kidneys, and 10 hearts for guns in chapter 8 so that’s at least 10 deaths. I don't think he would ask Tanaka to help given him being freshly released from lab experiments. Nekozawa calls him “a valued client”, it’s implied he’s done this before. Satou needed guns to save Tanaka, but aside from that we don’t know how many times he’s done this. Let’s just add another 30 deaths on top of the 10.
+540 for deaths from repeat killings by SAT. I imagine the SAT encounter until Satou’s recovery was quite fast and lasted at most 5 minutes. Killing Satou at a rate of 2 shots per second means 600 deaths in 5 minutes. Let’s subtract 60 (half a minute of deaths) to account for moments when SAT was distracted by Takahashi’s sniping.
+15 for deaths from fighting with SAT offscreen. Satou is a power house. He takes out at least 5 people for every death of his own. Slapping on an estimated extra 15 deaths from this fight since he was still tuckered out by the end.
+3 for deaths from fighting gang members (chapter 47). Though unarmed against a group of 100+ men, Satou would probably make quick work of these guys since they seem mostly untrained. Slapping on an estimated extra 3 deaths.
+50 for deaths from fighting Iruma Air Base soldiers (chapter 55-57). I’ve had enough of this dude. Let’s just add 50 more for his fight against the army base soldiers since they are highly trained, killing him without restraint, and there are a lot of them. Satou is also visibly weary by the end of it.
Satou total estimated deaths: 44 + 648 = 693
22 suicides, at least 40 estimated suicides
Kei Nagai
Hit by a truck (severed in half yikes) (chpt 1)
Strangled (chpt 2)
Slit throat (chpt 3) S
Bike crash (chpt 6) S
Stab to chest (after torture and dismemberment) (chpt 7)
Dismemberment by lab researchers (assumed) (chpt 8)
Drowned (chpt 12)
Stabbed in the throat (chpt 17) S
Shotgun to the chest (chpt 22)
Assumed reset (head wound from car crash is gone) (chpt 22) S
Shot by Satou via attack helicopter (dream sequence, yeah buckos i'm counting these) (chpt 31)
Assumed reset (hand wound is gone) (chpt  33) S
Caught in explosion caused by Satou (chpt 36)
Gunshot to head by Kou (chpt 39)
Gunshot to head (chpt 39) S
Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 40)
Gunshot to head by Hirasawa (chpt 41)
Gunshot to head by Hirasawa/Kou (after severing both arms) (chpt 42)
Gunshot to head by Hirasawa (chpt 42)
Fell off Forge Safety building (after being shot) (chpt 43)
Hypoxia (chpt 49) FIRST DEATH
Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S
Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S
Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S
Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S
Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S
Slit throat (assumed, to heal fingers) (chpt 57) S
Gunshot to head (after poped eardrums) (chpt 60) S
Gunshot to head by Anti-Demis (chpt 61)
Plane crash and explosion caused by Satou (chpt 70)
Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 72)
Impaled by own hostile IBM (chpt 72)
Gunshot to head (chpt 77) S
Gunshot to head (missing an arm and impaled on a rod) (chpt  78) S
HIT BY A TRUCK LMAO DUMBASS (chpt 83)
+240 for deaths while in captivity. Using the same metrics as Tanaka, in 10 days Kei died 240 times. Again, this is a very general approximation.
+72 for drowning deaths while adrift for a week (chapter 14). The stages of drowning take between 10-12 minutes. But let's be generous and say Kei either lucked out with calmer waters or manages to stay afloat for longer. So he drowns at a rate of 1 death per hour. Let’s also say Kei was confused and his estimation of being adrift for a week was off (downing consecutively will do that to a man), and he was only in the water for 3 days. I also don’t think he would be floating around for a week, especially if he didn’t make it out of Tokyo Bay.
Kei total estimated deaths: 35 + 312 = 347
15 suicides
Kou Nakano
Jumped out a window (chpt 15) S
Electrocution (chpt 16) S
Bled out (after falling from aparment building, stabbed in the stomach, run over by Tosaki) (chpt 16) S...ish...I’m counting as 0.5
Impaled by Kei's IBM (chpt 16)
Jumped off a cliff (chpt 17) S
Assumed reset (leg wounds from Kei are gone) (chpt 17)
Impaled by Kei's IBM (chpt 25)
Hanging (chpt 26) S
Shot by Satou via attack helicopter (dream sequence) (chpt 31)
Caught in explosion caused by Satou (chpt 36)
Impaled by Tanaka's IBM (chpt 37)
Gunshot to head by Kei (chpt 39)
Gunshot to head by Kei/Hirasawa (assumed) (chpt 41)
Fell off Forge Safety building (semi-accidental) (chpt 42) S, another 0.5
Head trauma (could also be eventual starvation/dehydration) (chpt 43) FIRST DEATH
+200 for deaths from hanging. We are doing a lot of assuming, so let’s continue that trend. Let’s say Kou would only hang himself for 5 hours a day after training and before bed. Let’s also say they had approximately two weeks of training. To account for extra training, rest time, and Kou generally not feeling up for dying on repeat, we’ll assume out of the two weeks, Kou only used 10 days. Where am I getting these numbers? My gut tells me so (source: trust me bro).
Short drop hanging takes 10-20 minutes for complete brain death. Let's take the middle road and say 15 minutes. So on average, 4 deaths per hour. 4 x 5 x 10 = 200 deaths.
Kou total estimated deaths: 15 + 200 = 215
5 suicides, 200 estimated suicides
Kou and Satou were really hard to estimate for, but we powered through lads.
Izumi Shimomura
Impaled by Tanaka's IBM (chpt 4)
Head trauma (chpt 27)
Untreated illness/STD (chpt 27) FIRST DEATH
Fell off a building with Satou's IBM (dream sequence) (chpt 31)
Bled out (after losing an arm fighting Tanaka) (chpt 39)
Gunshot to head by Tosaki (assumed) (chpt 41)
Hit by car (chpt 56) S
Shot in the throat (chpt 56)
Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 78)
I’m assuming Izumi didn’t die after Tosaki hired her since she wasn’t being researched nor was it likely she needed to die for Tosaki as a bodyguard.
Izumi total estimated deaths: 9
1 suicide
Takahashi
Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)
Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)
Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)
Gunshot to head by Gen (chpt 33)
Assumed reset (shot by Satou) (chpt 37)
Gunshot to head by Anti-Demis (chpt 66)
Takahashi total estimated deaths: 6 + 1 = 7
Masumi Okuyama
Carbon dioxide poisoning (chpt 32) S
Electrocution (chpt 32) S
Assumed reset (shot by Satou) (chpt 37)
Improvised explosive device (chpt 58) S
Okuyama total estimated deaths: 4 + 1 = 5
3 suicides
Shinya Nakamura
Motorcycle crash (accidental beheading) (chpt 9.5) FIRST DEATH
Gunshot to head (chpt 9.5)
Shinya total estimated deaths: 2
Reiji Akiyama
Bled out (after being harpooned and fighting Tanaka's IBM) (chpt 15)
Akiyama total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2
Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag)
Bled out (shot in spleen by Tanaka) (chpt 15)
Total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2
Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs)
Sliced in half after pushed off building by Izumi (chpt 63)
Total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2
Himeko Tachibana
Satou's plane crash (chpt 65) FIRST DEATH
Total estimated deaths: 1
Kai
Gunshot through throat by Satou (chpt 72)
Total estimated deaths: 1
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asahicore · 1 year
Text
100 kisses - prompts
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1 - prompts that have been written 2 - free prompts, you can still request! (esp for trsr but also enha & tbz) 3 - prompts that haven't been written yet
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1 - prompts that have been written
4. breaking the kiss, your lover instantly pressing their lips back to yours - bfb!heeseung 13. pulling your lover closer by the waistband - best friend!jake 19. “if we're caught kissing we're most likely dead but let's risk it anyway" - bfb!heeseung 22. smiling in-between kisses - coffee shop junghwan 26. “i was supposed to take a shower, alone, but go ahead jump right in” - bfb!heeseung 35. a kiss leaving you breathless - best friend!jake 45. “we shouldn’t do this” but they do so, anyway - bfb!heeseung 70. an accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment pass before you crash your lips back against each other's - coffee shop junghwan 72. accidentally bumping noses - coffee shop junghwan78. pushing your lover onto the bed, kissing down their stomach - bfb!heeseung
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2 - free prompts
1.whispering "kiss me" to your lover 3. kisses traveling from your lover's nose to their lips 5. intertwining fingers 11. a kiss that says “we're late for work, but let's be later” 13. pulling your lover closer by the waistband 16. “welcome home” kisses 23. hard kisses, wanting and needing them to feel what they feel 25. good night kisses 27. brushing lips together, lingering for a moment, catching your breath 30. this might be our last kiss so let's make it last 32. jumping into your lover’s arms 36. stopping a kiss when it gets too heated 40. kisses that start out passionate but grow more delicate 48. “i've had a terrible day at work so just kiss me” 50. soft shoulder kisses 52. “i can't believe i’m kissing you right now” 55. light kisses scattered across your lover's face down to their collarbone 57. brushing your lips against your lover's, wanting to savor the moment 65. shushing your lover as they try to kiss you, telling them tonight is all about them, not you 67. leaning into your lover's touch, their fingers tracing down your stomach, their body pressed against yours 74. kissing someone you'd promised yourself you'd never kiss again 81. “we just broke up, but let's kiss one last time” 86. sharing a first kiss 89. kissing someone you never thought you’d kiss
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3 - taken prompts
enhypen
heeseung trying to deny your feelings, but attraction gets the best of you, and you push them up against the wall (84)
sunghoon surprise kisses, your lover wasn't prepared but responds immediately (10) / grabbing your lover by the collar (18) / kitchen counter make-outs (31) / wrapping your legs around your lover's body as they lift you (43) / kissing your lover's wounds after having bandaged them up (59) / your lover pinning your arms above your head, telling you to stay quiet (83)
jungwon caressing your lover's cheek (24) / a kiss shared during a game (truth or dare, spin the bottle, etc) (28) / a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim (46) / whispering “i love you” in-between kisses (82) / smiling in-between kisses (85) / using your lover’s tie to pull them into a kiss (94)
jake forehead against forehead (7) / playful kisses, such as, “i’m not going to kiss you.” “why?” “because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today” (58) / not being able to unbutton your lover's shirt, their kisses are everywhere and too distracting (95) / kisses in which, we've already said goodbye for the day but i can't help stealing another one (29)
jay a kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips (37) / trying to concentrate on a task, but your lover kisses your neck, making your head spin (63) / hungry kisses and ripped apart clothes (99) / “it's always been you” kisses (100) / your lover pulling you into their lap, you straddling their hips (56)
treasure
junghwan soft kisses while cuddling in bed (33) / surprising your lover from behind, smacking a kiss on their cheek (61) / throwing your lover over your shoulder, carrying them towards the bed (79)
jihoon a tender kiss on your lover's chest (68)/ crashing your lips together during an argument (80) / kisses in which “i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you” but the kiss proves the opposite (88) / a kiss between two people in a fake relationship trying to make others believe they’re dating (90) / sliding your hands down your lover's chest (17) / legs wrapped around your lover's body, hands tearing their shirt off (77)
haruto running your fingers through your lover’s hair (8) / spinning your lover into a kiss on the dance floor (51) / tucking a strand of hair behind your lover's ear (53) / kissing your lover so gently, worried that if you pull away for just one second, they might disappear (69) / your lover kissing your forehead, then bending down to meet your lips (73) / standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips (75)
doyoung wrapping your arms around your lover's neck (2) / a kiss to wake your lover up in the morning (39) / telling your lover you want all of them tonight (91) / sliding your hands down your lover's chest, unzipping their zipper (93) / passionately making-out against a wall (97)
jeongwoo kisses under a light waterfall (12) / hand kisses (20) / a “practice” kiss to get ready for the real thing (62) / unrequited love that is now requited, and a kiss that proves it (76) / kissing your lover's tears away (96)
asahi i missed you kisses (34) / a kiss attempting to convince the other to stay (48) / kissing the corner of your lover's mouth (54) / a kiss only meant to last a moment, but when your lips meet, you can't pull away from each other (66) / grabbing hold of your lover's collar, begging them to kiss you (92)
yoshi kissing under the stars (14) / a kiss that happens after one too many drinks (49) / mistletoe kisses (60) / a kiss to celebrate the new year (42)
hyunsuk soft kisses that grow more passionate each second (6)
junkyu unbuttoning your lover's shirt, pressed against the wall (9) / holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them (15) / “let’s just kiss to see what it’s like” then pulling away, lingering for a moment, then going in for the second kiss (98)
jaehyuk exploring each other’s lips (22) / looking deep into your lover's eyes, before dropping your gaze to their lips (64) / not being able to focus on anything during a conversation, you're too busy staring at your lover's lips (87)
tbz
juyeon trailing kisses from your lover's lips to their neck (38) / pulling away from a kiss to look at each other, smiling as you dive in for another kiss (41) / a kiss cam kiss between “friends” (44) / lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other and barely having enough strength to breathe (71)
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list by @/screnwriter (deactivated) with some changes - works by me! © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, plagiarize or translate my works! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated :)
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admiringlove · 2 years
Text
part one | part two.
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[22:43]
.
.
.
atsumu's scared. he sees you after years of no contact at osamu's restaurant, and now the three of you are making half-awkward conversations. atsumu stays quiet for the most of it, but he watches you. he watches your body language, the way you laugh, the way you smile—and god, does it feel good to see and hear it again.
he wants you again. he wants you in his arms, in his embrace—you haven't left his mind ever since the day when you got in a fight with him and he said the harshest things he could to you. he regrets it all, of course. but would you want him again after he caused you so much pain? and you moved away from hyogo and didn't even spare him an explanation after that, so how was he supposed to feel anything but regret and guilt?
you get up from your spot now, and osamu smiles as he says goodbye. atsumu shakes himself out of his trance, and looks up. you're walking away. you're walking out of the restaurant. holy shit, you're gone.
"oi," he hears osamu say.
he blinks profusely, looking up in a panicked state. osamu slaps the side of his face lightly, "go get 'em, moron."
"right," he gets up, fumbling towards the door as he runs out, "i'll pay ya for the food later, i promise!"
"we all know you won't!"
atsumu sees you. you're around twenty paces from the restaurant. god, why do you still walk so fast? his mind is filled with fog, yet somehow there's a billion thoughts just floating around. would you even talk to him? would you forgive him? would you stay this time? would you give him another chance? would you perhaps fall in love with him again?
you stop when you hear his hurried footsteps. atsumu almost crashes into you, and is now standing with his hands on his thighs as he pants. you look at him with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, as he says, "i parked my car 'round the corner, lemme drop you home."
"atsumu, that's not necessary-"
"please, 's the least i can do," he smiles, standing up straight. you nod awkwardly, and then the two of you begin walking side-by-side when he decides to break the silence, "how've ya been?"
"good. i got a job right after college so the pay's been great too. mom and dad visit whenever they can—speaking of, they're actually coming tomorrow. all my coworkers are nice and we go drinking every now and-"
"i asked how you were. not yer coworkers, or yer job, or yer parents. you. how are you?" his look is of sincerity, and you sigh.
"i guess i'm okay," you say. there's a long pause, and then, "i'm sorry."
"why're ya sorry?" he questions. you had no reason to be sorry. if anything, he was sorry. he drove you away with his arrogant personality and crude behavior. he called you multiple times after you left, but you never answered them. and after he changed his number, he tried to keep you off his mind. but he ended up failing anyway. he would ask osamu how you were, because apparently his brother was the only person you kept in touch with.
"i... left without telling you. i got into tokyo university and my dad got a big raise and a transfer. so we had to come here either way. even if you hadn't yelled at me that day, i wouldn't have told you that i was leaving because i didn't want to hurt you," you mumble. but then you chuckle dryly, "i guess you would've been hurt either way. because me leaving without saying anything is worse than me confronting you about it. you must've felt horrible. and i'm sorry for being a dysfunctional coward."
"so ya weren't mad at me all these years?" he asks in disbelief, "why'd ya never return my calls?"
"because i'm an idiot who wanted you to find someone better," you admit, "i didn't want to hold you back from volleyball. or string you along while i live a thousand miles away."
"i can't believe you were never mad at me."
"you thought i was mad at you?" you ask, eyes big and blinking up at him as the two of you stop. he nods, swallowing a hard breath. a huge weight had just decided to drop off his shoulders. and he was so, so glad it did.
"i thought ya hated me. i yelled at ya, that too for no good reason. i was irritated that i didn't win a game. and ta make things worse, i blamed ya for things ya didn't even do."
"atsumu," you halt. the yellow light above the two of you fixating on your eyes as he looks down, "i'm so sorry."
"it's not yer fault," he reasons. you give him a melancholic smile before you get knocked out of your daze, "i’m gonna take the train, don't worry about dropping me home. if i hurry, i can catch the one that leaves in ten minutes."
you're about to leave, and atsumu feels like you're sand rushing out of the palm of his hands. and then, his voice takes action on its own.
"if i can't drop ya, can i buy ya coffee sometime?"
you stop, widening your eyes. he's doing the same—there's a blush on his cheeks too, and he slaps a hand over his mouth before you throw him the happiest grin he's ever seen, "i would love that very much, 'tsum."
he smiles as if this is the most joyous day of his life as he says, "g'night."
"i'll ask 'samu for your number when i get home!" you yell before going down the subway stairs.
i would love that very much, 'tsum.
he punches the air and jumps around like he’s a teenager again. your voice rings in his ears as he unlocks his car, and he sleeps like a baby that night.
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Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament: Round 1 Statistics Dump
Followers: 230
Total Votes: 22087
Times my modem crashed so I was without wifi for two weeks and had to go to my neighbors' house so I could ensure the tournament could continue undisturbed: 1 (thankfully)
Beloved By Gender
Starting out, we had a tournament of 209 women against 931 men, with percentages shown below.
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After voting, the pie chart looks like this:
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Which means on average, tumblr loves female wrestlers more
Voting Trends
During the first round of voting, we had a low of 309 votes per day up to 593, with our highest voting day being the day of the Great Naomi VS Scott Steiner debate
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The 100%ers
In the first round, a good number of wrestlers did not get a single vote against them
Tony Atlas (26)
Cedric Alexander (33)
Rick Rude (35)
No Way Jose (36)
Dusty Rhodes (46)
Kofi Kingston (53)
Eddie Guerrero (53)
Owen Hart (56)
Damian Priest (69)
Public Opinion
Tumblr has long been known for going against the grain of "wrestling professionals" opinions, so I collected a few opinions of the highly regarded to compare ours to (I left out the names of the wrestlers who were not included in this tournament)
Sports Illustrated's 101 Best Wrestlers Of All Time (2016)
Ric Flair (18, lose)
Shawn Michaels (53, win)
Steve Austin (29, win)
The Rock (23, lose)
The Undertaker (53, win)
Dusty Rhodes (46, win)
John Cena (47, win)
Hulk Hogan (10, lose)
Sting (51, win)
Andre The Giant (56, win)
Randy Savage (37, win)
Roddy Piper (54, win)
Chris Jericho (27, win)
Harley Race (17, win)
Mick Foley (58, win)
Bret Hart (52, win)
Randy Orton (58, win)
Kurt Angle (45, win)
Antonio Inoki (28, win)
Ricky Steamboat (28, win)
Daniel Bryan (61, win)
Triple H (31, win)
Buddy Rogers (21, win)
Edge (41, win)
Bob Backlund (26, win)
Brock Lesnar (23, lose)
Stan Hansen (22, lose)
Bruno Sammartino (30, win)
CM Punk (57, win)
Ted DiBiase (27, win)
Bruiser Brody (33, win)
Hideo Itami (34, win)
Rey Mysterio (48, win)
Vader (32, win)
Dory Funk Jr (17, win)
Mr Perfect (37, win)
Eddie Guerrero (53, win)
Jake ROberts (32, win)
Arn Anderson (25, win)
The Sheik (31, win)
AJ Styles (40, win)
Goldust (70, win)
Samoa Joe (61, win)
Terry Funk (27, win)
Verne Gagne (14, lose)
Mil Mascaras (10, lose)
Rob Van Dam (43, win)
Tatsumi Fujinami (25, lose)
Rick Rude (35, win)
Owen Hart (56, win)
Jeff Hardy (52, win)
Goldberg (23, win)
Ivan Koloff (15, lose)
Chris Benoit (17, lose)
Larry Zbyszko (4, lose)
Ultimo Dragon (9, lose)
Scott Hall (44, win)
Trish Stratus (38, win)
Dean Malenko (37, win)
Ultimate Warrior (28, win)
Fabulous Moolah (18, lose)
William Regal (62, win)
Gene Kiniski (14, lose)
Scott Steiner (44, lose)
Rick Steiner (26, win)
Chyna (68, win)
Seth Rollins (55, win)
Kane (40, win)
Jimmy Snuka (9, lose)
Davey Boy Smith (22, win)
The Iron Sheik (49, win)
Pedro Morales (20, win)
Michael Hayes (10, lose)
Johnny Valentine (14, win)
Shinsuke Nakamura (58, win)
Diesel (39, win)
Batista (53, win)
Lita (46, win)
Christian (56, win)
Ron Simmons (25, win)
Big Show (41, win)
JBL (10, lose)
Christopher Daniels (26, win)
The Miz (34, win)
PWI Wrestler Of The Year
Pedro Morales (20, win)
Jack Brisco (17, win)
Bruno Sammartino (30, win)
Terry Funk (27, win)
Dusty Rhodes (46, win)
Harley Race (17, win)
Bob Backlund (26, win)
Ric Flair (18, lose)
Hulk Hogan (10, lose)
Randy Savage (27, win)
Sting (51, win)
Vader (32, win)
Diesel (39, win)
Big Show (41, win)
Lex Luger (25, win)
Steve Austin (29, win)
The Rock (23, lose)
Brock Lesnar (23, lose)
Kurt Angle (45, win)
Chris Benoit (17, lose)
Batista (52, win)
John Cena (47, win)
Triple H (31, win)
Randy Orton (58, win)
CM Punk (57, win)
Daniel Bryan (61, win)
Seth Rollins (55, win)
AJ Styles (40, win)
Adam Cole (47, win)
Dean Ambrose (58, win)
Roman Reigns (51, win)
PWI Woman Of The Year
Joyce Grable (30, win)
Susan Green (21, win)
Stephanie McMahon (26, win)
Lita (46, win)
Trish Stratus (38, win)
Victoria (27, win)
Candice Michelle (24, win)
Mickie James (47, win)
Michelle McCool (29, win)
AJ Lee (48, win)
Sasha Banks (44, win)
Charlotte Flair (45, win)
Asuka (58, win)
Becky Lynch (58, win)
Bianca Belair (34, win)
TOP 10 MOST VOTED THUS FAR
Naomi, 173
Billy Gunn, 138
Goldust, 70
Damian Priest, 69
Chyna, 68
Shotzi Blackheart, 65
Finn Balor, 65
William Regal, 62
Samoa Joe/Daniel Bryan, 61
Toni Storm, 60
A big thank you to everyone who voted and I hope next round brings even more vicious infighting to shatter the dreams of old men who have had their egos boosted way too high over the last 40 years (yes, I'm directly roasting Ric Flair)
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