#I have a thousand ideas and I want them all

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

heyyy so like you are the only creator i fllw that can maybe write this...uhm like sukuna and insecure!reader that start making out and it gets heated and then sukuna takes readers shirt off and then his but when he wants to pull down her pants she stops him bcz she is insecure of her stretch marks but then he reassures her and they do it😭 I hope you will maybe write this and didn't have a stroke trying to understand this request 💓

- love anoo (i LOOVEE your work)

Unwavering

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, insecure!reader, soft!Sukuna, trueform!sukuna, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, mdni, NO PROOFREAD SORRY IM TIRED.

An: I think this is a stupid cute idea 🥹 Thank you for trusting me and requesting anoo!! I really appreciate it 🫂

Sukuna’s a patient man. He had waited over a thousand years to execute a failing plan to take over the world. Now that he’s lost, he’s decided to take up other avenues in his life.

Learning to simply… live was hard. Sukuna’s a determined man. He needs to have a goal in mind in order to function. Whatever meaningless hobby he took up, he tried being the best at.

With his newfound free time, he also decided to try to live the slow life. He took meaningless trips to coffee shops, and he tried not to think about murder when everyone screamed and ran away from him. Maybe it was his 7’3 stature… maybe it was the extra set of arms… maybe it was the tattoos.

Everyday he was reminded of why he didn’t live this life in the first place. Humans do not accept him. They do not want him in their society. He was willing to bet that they’d almost rather him play the villain… Then, they could all shamelessly hate him.

Though, there was one human who didn’t run. The nervous barista gave him a shaky smile, and she politely asked for his name.

Sukuna was taken aback. This tiny mortal wants to know his name? Knowing someone’s name in the heien era was a privilege — not a right. He grew up and lived in a time before social media and phones. If you wanted to know someone’s name, you had to ask them for it, and they had to be willing to oblige you in an answer.

With your cute demeanor, Sukuna was willing to oblige you with his name. “It’s Suk-“ He stopped himself. That was a name that struck fear into people’s hearts. He didn’t want to be associated with that fear anymore, and the thought of frightening you actually brought him no joy. “Ryomen.”

You gave another shaky smile before you carefully etched his name into the side of a cup. For you, this interaction was terrifying, but you couldn’t afford to quit in this economy. So, you were serving a monster. No big deal.

“I like that name.” You complimented. It’s often a compliment you give patrons when you’re nervous… or when you’re trying your hand at flirting. Either way, you look back up at him, trying not to focus on the extra set of eyes. “What can I get you?”

Sukuna felt a weird shiver going up his back when you complimented him. Perhaps this was your cursed technique? Were you a sorcerer pretending to be a barista, so you could spy on him? The shiver wasn’t necessarily unpleasant… just unfamiliar. He didn’t hear much compliments from anyone besides Uraume, and Uraume’s doesn’t count. They compliment him for everything, including the way he breathes. He finds it annoying.

“It’s custom to give your own name when someone else has graced you with theirs.” He grunted, coming off much more gruff than he intended. He just wanted to know your name.

“Oh…” Your voice was soft, and you gaze away from the behemoth in your lobby. Was this some sort of trick? Some old myths and legends say that a name holds power. Would he be able to kill you if he knew your name?? You glance back over at him, noting his large muscled and incredibly toned chest that his kimono didn’t bother hiding. He was so fucking big. Your thoughts were completely baseless. If he wanted to kill you, he simply just could — regardless of knowing your name. “It’s yn.” You finally answer.

Sukuna nodded. “That’s a good name.” He realized that his compliment didn’t sound as personable as yours. It’s his first time though… He’s sure that he’ll figure it out.

“Thank you..” You respond as you started to contemplate what exactly your life had come to. You were having a semi-pleasant interaction with a monster at your job… Do you get paid enough to deal with this? “So… Ryomen, what can I get for you?”

Sukuna felt another shiver. He liked hearing your voice say his name. He wanted to hear it again and again. He wanted his name to fall from your lips like a mantra as he made love to you.

Shaking away those pestering thoughts, he finally gets to the task at hand. “Yes.. what is this.. coffee that you mortals speak of..?”

Oh boy.

*** *** ***

After explaining to the very skeptical monster what coffee was, you served him a cup with very little milk and sugar. Sukuna was delighted by the taste, and he was delighted with your company.

He made it apart of his routine. He woke up, took care of himself, got dressed in whatever Uraume had picked out from his closet, and he set forth to your coffee shop, where he’d hang around for hours — scaring away every potential customer.

He asked you all sorts of things, and you two got to know each other better. It was an unlikely bond.

It took him forever to finally kiss you. Scared of running off his one and only human companion — his first chance of living the slow life, he wanted to make sure you absolutely were ready and wanted that sort of relationship with him.

It led to some rather funny moments of you trying to kiss him, him getting confused and flustered, leaving you to feel rejected.

But when he finally did kiss you, Sukuna felt a sort of hunger that he hadn’t felt in his years of living. Sure, he has had sex before, mostly out of sheer boredom. Immortality isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

But this, this was different. This was lust, longing, yearning. He wanted to make you feel good. He needed to show you how… happy you make him.

He had you sat upon his lap as he chased your lips with feverish kisses. Today would be the day. He’s going to finally indulge himself in your warm embrace and allow himself to enjoy on of the most human of pleasures: connection.

His hands were slowly rubbing your hips — trailing them up and down, feeling the beautiful curvature of your body. He loved every ditch and mound. He loved how you just fit against him.

His hands finally take a chance, and he slips them underneath your shirt. The skin-on-skin contact is nearly dizzying, and he feels almost embarrassed for letting a little bit of steamy foreplay get him so riled up. He can’t help it though, not when your lips taste so sweet.

Your shirt is promptly slipped up over your head, and he discards it to the side. His oversized palms slide up your tummy to your chest where he carefully grasped at your breast, groaning into your mouth as he feels the fullness and weight in his hand.

Though, despite his lust clouded brain, he didn’t miss the way your stomach flexed and tensed under his touch. Assuming you were just a big ticklish, he decided to ignore it.

His lips trail down to your neck, where he’s making mark after mark on you. Every mortal who dared to step foot in that coffee shop should know you’re not on the menu.

“Ryo.” You gasp his name so sweetly while your jaw tilts back ever so slightly. He’s never been a witness to something so pretty and pure.

His teeth go to nip at your neck, and his hands slide to your back, so he can free you from this contraption that dares to keep your beautiful breasts from his reach.

After a moment of trial and error (and a small giggle from you), Sukuna finally unclasps your bra, and his mouth waters when he’s graced with the sight.

He doesn’t take a moment for granted. Living the slow life would need to wait for a moment while he chases this euphoric feeling you give him.

His hand rests underneath the globe, and he flicks his tongue out over your nipple. For a moment, he wonders if his ministrations are more for you or him. His answer comes to him in the form of a breathy whine from you.

Clasping his mouth over the swollen bud, he uses his hand to toy with your other one. Your hands are entangled in his hair, weakly tugging as you let out those frantic whines.

He switches sides, paying an equal amount of attention to your other breast. He’s subtly experimenting with your body, trying to determine which of his tongue movements do you like the best based off the sounds that fall from your lips.

Licking and gentle sucks seem to be the winner. Personally, Sukuna would like to try biting, but you had let out this pained hiss when he tried. He quickly went back to his more gentle, loving licks.

By this time, his cocks were throbbing in agony. He can’t remember a time where he’s been this hard and hadn’t already decided to promptly handle it himself.

His hands fall to the waistband of your legging that hug around your hips, and he notices you tensing and arching away from his touch once more. He pulls away from your nipple with an obscene ‘pop’.

“Do you have a secret wound that you are not telling me about?” He finally prompts you, hands moving to your back where you seem more comfortable with him touching.

You shift just a bit in his lap from the sudden discomfort of the conversation. You figured this would come up at some point, but you didn’t know how he was going to handle it. Debating on lying to him and saying you are wounded, you actually end up deciding to tell the truth.

“It’s not that. I just…” Your eyes try to find anything else in the room other than him to focus on. “… don’t know if I am ready for you to see me like this.”

Sukuna’s face relaxes, and he sits up to eye you. “That’s an interesting choice of words, princess.” He casually notes before his hands go back to idly rubbing on your waist. “If you’d like to stop, you can just come out and say that. I think I can surprise you with my patience.”

You give him a small appreciative smile. Despite the coldness of his sharp facial features, Sukuna can say somethings that just instantly warm you to him. “It’s not that I don’t want this because I really do… Can we.. just maybe turn the light off when we…?”

His eyebrows furrow. If you wanted this, why did you seem so cautious. Then, it hits him. It must be his face and extra appendages. With the lights off, you can pretend that he’s another mortal man… that is very large and muscular.

“I don’t think dimming the lights will erase an extra set of eyes and arms, but I will do it to ease your worries, princess.”

Your eyes widen, realizing Sukuna had taken your request the entirely wrong way. “What-? Nononono- I don’t want to hide you.” You quickly scramble to get the words out, and Sukuna seems surprised when you cup his jaw so lovingly. “You’re perfect. I’m trying to hide myself from you.”

Sukuna blinks a few times, taken aback by your admission. “Why would you punish me that way?” He asks, not able to fathom why you would hide the most perfect thing he’s ever seen from him.

You’re rendered completely silent. Truthfully, you know why you don’t want him seeing you naked. You’ve seen the sight before… the purple and blue stretch marks that litter your lower tummy and inner thighs. You don’t want to tell him what’s making you so shy to the idea because then he’ll only notice it more. Plus, anytime you’re honest with yourself about the insecure thoughts, it feels like you’re one of those girls who fish for compliments.

Sukuna, while not very emotionally intelligent, is able to see the emotional turmoil you’re going through. His hands slowly move from your hips to your cheeks, and he holds your face to maintain eye contact with you.

“Do you know how long I’ve been alive?” He asks. His tone is warm and even. His red ochre eyes resting upon yours.

“No, I don’t.” You answer truthfully. You knew he was immortal, and he had lived a long life already. You just didn’t know how long that was.

His thumb tenderly strokes your cheek as he admires you. “I’m older than soap.” He quietly laughs. “I promise you… I have seen some things that you couldn’t fathom. Across all my time on this horrible planet, I have been with curses and mortals alike, and trust me mortal women put curses to shame when it comes to what’s downstairs.”

You let out an appreciative laugh, easing up in his lap. His lips crack into a small smile — glad he’s able to provide you with some comfort.

His hands engulf your cheeks. “You are the prettiest thing these hands have ever touched. Nothing about you could turn my gaze away. You have my word.”

“Besides, I think you may be a bit more put off by what my clothes are hiding.” He adds, piquing your curiosity.

“Oh? Is that right?” You ask with a cheeky smile that makes Sukuna’s chest feel all warm.

“If you’d like..” His voice feels like velvet across your skin. He speaks in a purr. “I can show you.”

Your mind goes completely blank, but you nod slowly, encouraged by his words. His lips reconnect with your neck, kissing right below your ear, and he moves his hands to your hips, guiding your movements to slowly grind against him.

You’re able to feel just how well endowed he is through the thin fabric of your leggings and panties. Every inch slides against you — rubbing and bumping against you in just the right way.

It quickly derails into another needy makeout session — as if you two are horny teenagers chasing each other’s lips.

This time, Sukuna undoes his own robes first. His philosophy is that once you see that he has two cocks instead of one, you’ll feel comfortable enough showing whatever you’re so afraid of.

Your eyes widen, and your head tilts a bit, causing Sukuna to chuckle. “Told ya I would win.” He smirked proudly.

“How am I…?” Your voice trailed off, not even knowing what to say — too embarrassed to ask how you’re suppose to take all that.

“Slowly and with a lot of prep.” He gives you a toothy grin, showing off his fangs. “Now…” His hands slowly dipped back down to your hips and the waistband of your leggings.

You tense up involuntarily, but you nod slowly, giving him permission. Sukuna lifts you off his lap, and he carefully lies you on your back against his bed — treating you like you’re fragile.

Once your leggings are discarded, your eyes avoid his — too scared of what he’d might think. You don’t even look down to see what you look like in this position, knowing you’d just end up turning yourself off if you saw the marks on your thighs and tummy.

Sukuna’s eyes rest upon your pretty cotton panties that are soaked and sticking to your cunt. His mouth waters from the sight, and he tests his luck, slowly removing your panties from your body.

Your pussy looks even more delicious than he could’ve imagined. His cock literally twitches from the sight before he gets on his knees at the edge of the bed, and he pulls you by your hips down to where he can get a good smell of your arousal.

He groans from your scent, imagining just what you’re going to taste like on his tongue. He wonders if you’re more of a moaner or a crier, but he snaps his thoughts back to your earlier hesitancy.

“What was there to be nervous about, princess?” He asks as his fingers can’t resist touching you. He teases your clit gently as he waits for an answer.

“I-“ You stifle a small whimper as you feel his fingers graze against you gently. After a beat of silence, you finally speak back up again. “It’s just… the stretch marks.” You mumble quietly.

Sukuna furrows his brow, and he looks down to where your inner thighs are, and he looks at your tummy. “What about them?” He bluntly asks.

You shift uncomfortably, wishing you could wipe his memory of it entirely. “I just don’t like how they look is all.”

Sukuna’s thumb slowly applies pressure to your clit, and he starts to rub in loose circles. “That’s stupid. Everyone has them.” He replies bluntly, his more rough around the edges nature coming out as he listened to you.

A small muffled whine comes from your lips, and you arch your back as you feel his ministrations. “What?” You ask, not able to grasp what he’s saying.

Sukuna smirks as he sees you start to lose track of the conversation. He leans into your cunt before letting out a warm puff of air from his mouth. He loves watching how your entrance tries to clench around nothing. It’s cute seeing how your soaking wet pussy thinks it’ ready for him.

“I said that’s dumb. Everyone had stretch marks. It’s a part of growth.” He reasserts as he looks back up at you.

“You clearly haven’t seen girls on the internet.” You mutter, but your attitude is quickly dispelled whenever Sukuna lightly spanks your cunt, causing for a wet slapping noise.

“No. I haven’t. I have no interest in looking at something fake.” His eyes glare at you before he leans in and gives your swollen clit a kiss. His tongue darts out, and he laps at your puffy folds. A groan escapes from his mouth from your taste, gently vibrating against your cunt before pulling away and returning his thumb to your clit. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed over such trivial things. The marks just show that you have grown, and everyone grows. That’s it.”

You try to think of a rebuttal, but your mind is so cloudy with lust that you can’t think of one. Your hips lift from the bed with a small whine — no longer wishing to focus on your insecurities. You even look down, not caring if you’re going to see the stretch marks. Your eyes meet his, and you give him a pitiful gaze.

Sukuna instantly chuckles as he knows what you’re wanting. “We’ll come back to this, princess.” He hums before he dives back in, gently kissing and suckling on your clit. If his eyes weren’t closed, he’s sure they’d roll back into his head from how sweet you taste.

When he feels your hands grabbing onto his hair, he lets out a small smug laugh before lapping at your cunt with his tongue. The wet sticky noises fill the room along with your moans and whines.

Sukuna begins to wish that he was blessed with two tongues like he was given two of every thing else, and that’s when he remembers…

His mouth is focused on your clit, licking, swirling his tongue around, gently kissing. He brings his hand below his jaw, and he presses it against your opening.

You’re briefly confused, but you don’t question him since he’s making you feel this damn good with his mouth. Your confusion is quickly whisked away when you feel a second tongue delving deep inside you.

“Fuck-!” You moan before quickly jerking your hips up, but his other set of hands holds your waist down while he enjoys his meal.

Sukuna’s such a genius. With this technique, he can make you feel twice as good, which means you get twice as wet.

His tongues work together, lapping and plunging to drink the most nectar from you. Your poor thighs are already shaking, and you’re a squirmy thing when you’re getting close.

Sukuna doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s so lost in your perfect cunt that anything besides the word “stop” would fly right over his head.

“K-Kuna… mmnnf! I’m gonna…. ah, gonna cum.” You warn, feeling that pit tightening in your stomach. He pulls you down onto his mouths harder, frantically devouring you as he hasn’t had his fill yet.

“Cum for me.” His words are deep and raw with desire. He pulses his hand tongue in and out of you quickly until he feels the way your sloppy walls constrict around him, making small squelching noises as you find your orgasm.

“Fuck-! Shiiiit~” You whine as your hips try to lift up, trying to escape all of the stimulation.

“Thaaat’s it.” He purrs as he watches his hand mouth do all the work. His chin is absolutely covered in your juices but he doesn’t seem to mind.

When your body relaxes, and you’re panting against his bed, Sukuna promptly removes his hand mouth before plunging two fingers deep inside your wet heat.

His fingers are so thick and long. He’s literally a monster. Taking two of his fingers is like taking four of your own. The stretch burns but in the best way possible.

“Ah-! W-wait.. too much!” You whimper, leaning your head back with a quiet hiss.

“Really? I think you can handle it.” Sukuna taunts with a small smirk before carefully pumping his fingers in and out. Your pussy is still so soaked, fluttering around his fingers to cause wet mushy noises. “I’d say she’s enjoying it.” He adds with a smug grin, referring to how noisy your cunt is.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to cope with how sensitive you are right after finishing so hard on his hand and mouth, but your eyes snap right back open when you feel his oversized palm grab onto your chin.

“Ah, ah, I want you to look at me, pretty girl.” He teases with a toothy grin. “Look at who you’re letting get you off.”

“Fuck..” You whimper as you try to lean up to kiss him, but Sukuna leans back and rejects you. He’s still such an asshole.

“You’re not getting out of looking at me.” His fingers start to piston harder, curling upwards until his bumps against that special spot that makes you see stars.

Your eyes cross as you grab at the sheets. No one had ever made you feel this good, not even you could when you touch yourself.

Sukuna’s just content drawing orgasm after orgasm. He loves watching you let go of all that worry you had, letting you focus on some of your most primal desires, and it does things to him knowing that you’re comfortable to do this with him — comfortable letting him see this side of you.

His cocks are still rock hard, pressed against his stomach as he feels how tight you are wrapped around his fingers. “You’re going to feel so good wrapped around my cock.” His voice is a low growl, fingering you harder as he thinks about what it’s going to be like to finally fuck you.

Your pussy is sobbing all over his fingers, damn near coating his hand in your arousal. He’s bullying your g-spot again and again, fucking directly into it to make you whine and cry out in pleasure.

“Yeah? You like that idea? How badly do you want me to fuck you?” He taunts, feeling the way your walls are constricting around his fingers. He can tell you’re getting close again.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, throwing your head back against the mattress. Your skin feels like it’s vibrating as your pleasure starts to build once more.

“That’s not an answer.” Sukuna’s other hand swats at your bottom, causing for a slapping noise to echo in rhe room.

“Badly! B-badly… please fuck me. Please!” You whine as you’re on the brink of an orgasm.

Sukuna’s fast. He removes his fingers, but before you have time to react, one of his cocks is sliding in, replacing that empty feeling.

Even with all that prep, it’s a tight squeeze, making even Sukuna growl. “Fuck. How can you be this tight?” His hands grab onto your hips as he buries himself to the hilt.

Your back is arching off the bed, letting out silent screams that come out as whiny mewls. The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your spongy walls start to clench around him, pulsing as another orgasm is pulled from you.

Sukuna’s stuck in an awkward position as he’s too tall to fuck like this, besides he doesn’t want to move to ruin your orgasm, so he stays leaning over you as your body comes undone beneath him.

“Beautiful.” He groans, admiring your raw beauty as you cum on his cock. He’s truly never seen anything like it. You’re such a beautiful mess.

Your breath is shaky as you slowly come down. Sukuna sits patiently waiting for you to calm. His hips are beckoning to move, but he sits still, letting you get use to the feeling of being so full.

“Ah… hah.. fuck.. s’kuna..” Your voice is breathy, filled with utter need that makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Up you go.” He murmurs as he wraps his monstrous arms around you, lifting your body with absolute ease. He’s able to maintain full control over your body as he eases you down onto his cock carefully.

Your body is shaky, and covered in a sheen of sweat as you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging his body to yours closely. You two are connected in every way.

His lips press sweet kisses to your cheek and neck, gently nipping at your skin to give him something to focus on so he doesn’t absolutely ruin your cunt immediately.

It doesn’t take long before you’re squirming in his arms, trying to get whatever friction you can out of him. He chuckles lowly, “Careful princess. Don’t hurt yourself.” He purrs directly into your ear, breath brushing against you.

He slowly picks you up, until just his tip remained inside, plugging your tight cunt before he lowers you back down onto him like you weigh nothing.

“Mmm fuck… such a perfect cunt.” He growls before picking you up once more and lowering you back down. He loves the way your soft body feels against his, and you’re so warm. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“Goood girl..” He praises in a soft whisper. He’s not use to giving out compliments still… but he’s getting better. He’s been learning by watching your reactions, and this is by far the one that makes you blush the most.

“Mmph~ Kuna… so deep..” You whimper into his neck. He continues to move you up and down his cock, using you like a perfect little fleshlight.

The sound of wet squelches and clapping stays consistent throughout the room, and his other cock throbs from neglect - a pearl of pre-cum leaking out.

“Gotta give both of them attention, baby. I’m greedy.” He growls before slides all the way out of you, and he pushes his other cock inside instead.

They feel almost identical, except with different curvature. He was a little more forceful now, jerking your body up and down his length aggressively.

Your clit rubs against his pelvis, creating for the perfect friction. You grip at his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut as it’s all just so much.

Your thighs were trembling, and you let out every cry of pleasure that bubbled in your throat. No way to try to gain any control in this situation — you’re forced to just take it and cope with the stimulation.

Sukuna grunts and growls with each thrust. One of his other hands that aren’t holding you up reaches up to grasp your hair, and he pulls it back — forcing you to look him in the eye while he fills you so full again and again.

Your mewls and cries only fuel the more primal side to him. His mind is cloudy — chasing that high, wanting to spill himself so deep inside you that you feel him for days to come.

He yanks your hips up, and he takes a moment before he carefully sinks you back down on both his cocks. Both of them are slick from your arousal, but you’re still so tight.

“S’kuna~! Wait- nnngh… fuck I can’t!” You cry out, holding his gaze with bleary eyes from overstimulated tears.

“Shhh.. you can take it.” He mumbles lowly. “You wanna make me proud, don’t you? Take it…”

It feels like he’s splitting you apart while he tries to push deeper. Your entire body is trembling against him, let out pained whimpers as well as pleasurable cries because the stretch feels so good.

He gives your poor cunt just a moment to adjust before he starts bouncing you along both his cocks. The way your drooling cunt clenches around him, smushing his cocks together while he ruts upwards into you, making him grunt with pleasure.

You’re a whimpering mess in his arms, already embarrassingly close to your third orgasm while both his cocks are kissing your cervix so deeply — both leaking with an unnatural amount of pre-cum to make sure your pussy stays nice and lubricated for them.

His hand pulls your hair again, forcing your eyes back up at him. “Look at me.” He growls in a demanding tone, “Look at me while I breed this cunt.”

All 5 of his red eyes focus on you — completely enamored by your beauty. Lost in the haze and heat, only a couple words could fall from his lips. “So pretty…”

As if on cue, he feels your gummy walls squeeze around him, and tears fall from your eyes as your brought into another soul-crashing orgasm. His hands continue to bounce you up and down, riding you through your orgasm before he pushes himself in so deep. He swears he can feel your womb.

Both of his cocks pulse inside you, pumping your abused cunt so full of cum that it seeps from the edges of your entrance while he’s still plugging you.

“Oh gods-! F-fuck…” You whimper as it’s so hot. Like, it’s genuinely so warm in your pussy — you’re almost worried. “Why..” You manage to pant out, trying to ask him why it feels like that.

“Shh.. shh.. I have no explanation for you, princess. It just feels that way.” He speaks lowly as he slowly sits on the bed, still holding your body in his lap.

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, and he feels your heart beat against his flesh. As he holds you to him, he wonders that if he had a heart, would it be in sync with yours? Would you two beat as one?

[ribread03]

Our Song I

m.sturniolo

Summery: When you receive a DM from nick asking you about doing a collaboration with them you cant help but say yes!

THIS IS MY WORK AND MY IDEA! PLEASE DONT USE THIS AS “INSPIRATION” OR TAKE IT WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST! thank you :)

AN: this is part one of the series “our song” if you would like to know more about “y/n” you can use the mood board! Enjoy :)

Y/N POV

You’re sitting at your desk editing the newest YouTube video you plan to put out. Music is playing in the background as you zone out into your computer. Your phone dings, pulling you out your computer to see who might have messaged you.

Your heart skips a beat when you see “nicolassturniolo sent you a message” in your notification stack. You’ve been a fan of the sturniolo triplet since what felt like forever, and now Nick is messaging you on instagram. You’re in such a state of shock as you open the message, hands trembling as you read what it says;

“Hello, Me, Matt and Chris have come across your YouTube channel and we’re wondering if you want to collab with us sometime in the future….”

Flash Back Two Weeks Ago…

You had just finished editing a YouTube video to post, hitting the post button you close your computer and lay down to take a nap. Expecting the usual few hundred comments and likes when you wake up in a few hours.

Boy were you wrong… A few hours go by and you wake up and see that your video has blown up, thousands of views, thousands of comments, and thousands of new subscribers. Your eyes scan your phone “congratulations on 1 MILLION subscribers” was in your email.

“OH! MY! GOD!” You screamed out, alerting your parents who happened to be downstairs, to hear you. Jumping up and out of bed, starting to exit your room, stepping over piles of books and clothes.

“Y/N? Are you okay!?” You can hear your mother frantically call up to you while walking up the stairs.

“I HIT A MILLION SUBSCRIBERS!” You say excitedly while meeting her in the hallway…

Back to the present…

“Oh. my. god…” you say quietly, fingers hovering over your screen, scared that if you hit anything this will all be a figment of your imagination. Clicking on the notification you hold your breath as your phone unlocks and opens instagram… this is no figment of your imagination. This is real life and the triplets really want to collaborate with you.

You let out a few more silent “omgs” before heading downstairs to talk to your mom about all of this. You exit your room and walk down the stairs, “Momma?” You say softly as you round the corner into the kitchen.

“Yeah sweetie?” Your mom says as she’s washing the dishes. You sit on a small stool on the floor before you talk again, petting your cat, nugget, that was by your feet.

“I got a message from Nick Sturniolo, asking if I wanted to collaborate with them,” you can hear the excitement in your voice as you tell your mom. Your mom also knows that you’ve been a fan, and practically obsessed, with these three boys since high school and have always wanted to meet them one day.

“You did? That’s great honey, what did you say?” She asks turning the sink off and turning to face you.

“I didn’t answer yet.. I'm honestly scared because what if they change their minds?” You explain to your mom with a nervous chuckle. Your cat had now made its way up onto your lap, purring loudly.

“I think you should do whatever you want, just know that a flight out to LA might be expensive.” You took your mom’s words to heart and gave her a small nod.

“I want to go out and meet them, a collaboration would help me so much.. maybe if I get a little more information then I’ll be able to see if I can afford it or not,” you explained back to your mom, pulling your phone out to DM Nick back.

“I would love to collab with you guys one day! That has been an absolute dream of mine forever. I would love to share some more information about when and where if possible.” You hit send with slightly shaky fingers before talking to your mom again, “I just messaged him back, I asked him for some more details on when and where we would collab”

“Okay sweetie,” your mom says softly before returning to whatever she was doing in the kitchen, before you came out there to talk to her. You give your cat a few more pets before standing and going back into your room, waiting for Nick to message you back with more details surrounding this possible future collaboration…

Matts POV

“Did you ask her yet?” Matt was sitting next to Nick looking over at his phone. Matt had seen your YouTube video and thought you were the most beautiful, funny, and relatable person on the internet, and he knew right then and there he needed to meet you.

He had asked Nick and Chris what they thought of some of your YouTube videos, hinting at the idea of a collaboration with you. Saying and pointing out things that would hopefully catch his brother's attention and make them also want to meet you, just maybe not for the same reason.

Matt would find himself scrolling through your instagram when he was bored, careful not to like any of your posts, wanting to keep you out of his fans stalking obsessions before he could even properly meet you. Thumbs carefully scrolling on TikTok as he watches every video you’ve made on there, watching how every video is a little different.

“Yes Matt, I did ask her,” Nick says with a slight eye roll, becoming tired of his brother’s constant asking. Nick's phone dings lightly, alerting that someone messaged him, the someone being you. Nick opens instagram and the messages that the two of you have sent back and forth. Matt's eyes scan the screen quickly, not caring that he might be invading some privacy of his brothers.

Matt's eyes land on the words, “I would love to collab with you guys one day! That has been an absolute dream of mine forever…” and he immediately becomes happier, his smile widening and eyes seem to sparkle and little more.

Nick sends you a quick DM back, asking if regular texting would be easier to send information through and that the collab would be sometime within the next two months. “I can’t believe she said yes!” Matt explains to Nick, his excitement evident in his tone.

“I didn’t think she would say no,” Nick says calmly, typing out his phone number to send to you…

AN: i hope you enjoyed this first part! If you would like to be on the tag list for this series comment on this post! Just asking to be added and i will do so :) feed back and thoughts are always welcome!

All boarders are from @issysh3ll

[megalony]

Have A Little Faith

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine I had based on a idea after seeing the newest episode. I hope you will all like it.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie goes to confession because he feels guilty. Guilty for distancing his family from his parents, for not trusting them anymore. And for the memories he has from trying to protect his wife when they didn't help her.

(I'd love any feedback on this one)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dios, what am I doing here?"

It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Eddie wasn't so sure if he was asking himself or if he was in fact, asking God for the answer to that.

His head tilted back and his eyes cast high until he was staring up at the ceiling which seemed thousands of miles away just like the stars when he stared up at them at night. He found himself focusing on the arched roof, the vertical beams and slanted wood holding the roof together and the high arches that provided shelter for the birds that often flocked into the church for sanctuary.

Eddie figured all forms of animals needed sanctuary from something at one point or another, not just humans.

His boots clammered against the heavy stoned floor and made it sounded like he was making an entrance, but not the good kind. The vibrating noise his boots made sounded omnimus, like he was making his descent into Hell and announcing his presence. Maybe that was what he was doing, he couldn't be sure.

At least there was no one else here.

It was early. Morning mass had already taken place, but the next one wouldn't be until late this evening. That was why Eddie was here. He knew from experience that hardly anyone came to church at this time and he was relieved to find every pew was vacant. There wasn't a soul in sight, except for the priest who was conveniently stood near the confessionals.

Part of him wanted to turn away. A big part of Eddie's mind was telling him to turn around and leave. This wasn't a good idea. He shouldn't be doing this. He hadn't committed a big sin in order to be here, and he wasn't in a dire situation where he needed to pray to God for strength or a miracle. He hadn't been inside a church since before he moved to LA and he hadn't done confession since he was in school.

But he didn't know what else to do and there was a tiny, miniscule part of Eddie's brain that told him that a confession, or that being inside a church like this, might just give him the sense of peace he was searching for.

His hand stuffed deep into his pocket and his other hand merged with the back of his head so he could scratch his nails deep enough into his hair to reach his scalp and create scratches along the base of his neck.

His head aimed down and his eyes trained in on the slabs of stone beneath his feet as he trudged down between the aisles.

Walking like this reminded Eddie of his first marriage. The one that had gone wrong. The one he was pushed into by his family because of his faith. He didn't want to get married at nineteen. He didn't think being married would make much of a difference between him and Shannon; they had been in love at the time and they were having a baby, marriage wasn't a necessity.

It was for the family, though. And when Eddie signed up for the army, being married seemed like the safer option. If he didn't come home, Shannon and the baby would be okay, and being married gave them both better benefits with the army.

His second marriage was the one Eddie was proud of and happy to remember because it was the marriage he actually wanted. The one that didn't happen in a church. The one with a close-knit gathering of just the main family and a few close friends and the girl who had stolen his heart, vowing never to give it back.

Eddie kept his eyes firmly on the floor when he reached the confessional.

He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, desperate to break out of his body and run away to safety. The panic started to overwhelm his system when he pointed his shaking hand at the confessional without looking at the priest. He didn't want to look.

He didn't want to see who he was going to be confessing to and he didn't want his confessor to see him either. He didn't want to be observed, only listened to and absolved.

The moment he sat down and pulled the curtain across, Eddie dug his short nails into his thighs through his trousers and tilted his head back until the back of his head hit the wood.

He let his eyes fall closed and took a very slow, deep breath. He could hear the old mantra in the back of his head. In, hold for three, out for three. Again. And again.

He could hear (Y/n)'s voice in his mind when he used to suffer panic attacks on a daily basis.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's okay, just breathe with me."

Sometimes, when he heard those words, Eddie could close his eyes and feel (Y/n)'s fingers tracing his face. He could feel her temple pressing against his and her words ghosting across his lips and he could feel her smiling against him. That was how he got through the panic attacks; he either envisioned his wife sat on his lap, cradling his face in her hands. Or he actually had her sat next to him, coaching him through it.

She was a great coping mechanism.

He took another deep breath before he tilted his head to the left and dared to look through the wooden slats that separated him from the priest on the other side. He knew the priest had sat down because he heard the other curtain pull across.

At least they were the only ones in the church. Eddie wouldn't have to hang his head and avoid looking at anyone else when he left and he didn't need to worry about anyone hearing what he was going to talk about today.

What was he supposed to say?

Was Eddie supposed to speak first or did he wait for the priest to tell him how this worked and ask what he was here to confess?

It had been over a decade, almost two, since Eddie had been in this position and it was making him regret turning up at all. Maybe he should have gone straight home. He wasn't even sure why he detoured here on his way home from work.

"What's your name? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but it might help you relax."

Was he that easy to read, even through the pannels? Did he look that nervous?

"Eddie. It's uh, it's been a while, since my last confession. I haven't done this since school. I haven't been to church since we moved to LA."

Eddie only used to go to church when his mother insisted. His parents went almost every Sunday when his father wasn't away working, and he knew his sister's went to church at least once a month. He may have been raised Catholic, but Eddie didn't instill those beliefs into Chris and he didn't want to follow such a devout life.

He had his faith, he kept his beliefs to himself and he prayed when he had to. His faith never wavered, even if he didn't think or speak to God very much these days.

"That's okay. What do you want to confess?" It didn't feel okay, but Eddie was glad he wasn't being judged.

What did he want to confess? Why was he really here? What had drawn him to this church when he was passing? What caused that instinctive decision to turn right and pull up rather than carry on straight and go home?

"I don't- I don't have to reel off every sin, right?" He almost quirked a smile and when he glanced to the left, he saw the priest dip his head forward and he could just imagine the Holy man smiling.

He must get asked that a lot. There would be some people, like Eddie, who weren't sure they would get resolution if they didn't atone for every sin they had committed since their last confession. But surely Eddie couldn't be asked to recount each and every sin because some were little, and admittedly some were large. He did have the time, the energy or even the memory to recount every time he had sinned over the last fifteen years or so.

"Maybe just the main ones. There must be a reason you decided to come here today."

"Yeah…" There was a reason. Deep down, Eddie knew what had been playing on his mind long enough to make him come here.

His hands switched to clasp together on his lap until his fingers were imbedding in the back of his hands between his tense knuckles that were starting to turn white. He pressed his hands down into his thighs and tilted his head down until the back of his neck ached and his shoulders arched up to try and relieve the tension.

With a deep breath, Eddie tilted his head back up again but he couldn't find the will to open his eyes. He kept them tightly closed as the thought of his parents crossed his mind like a vision from God, telling him the real reason he was here.

"My folks called, they want me to visit." He heard how pathetic his voice sounded and he hated the words as they passed through his lips.

They sounded so ordinary, so normal and usual as if Eddie was talking to one of the guys down at the station in passing. Rather than sitting here in a confessional, opening up old wounds for God to see and resolve him of the sins he was harbouring.

"And you don't want to?" There was an air of caution in the priest's voice because he could tell he was missing something here.

Eddie wished he could open his mind. He wished he could transfer his thoughts, feelings and memories into the mind of the man on the other side of the wooden pannel. He wished he could show him what was wrong instead of having to explain. Eddie was never good at explaining, he could never find the right words or the right way to explain without making a mess of things.

He was surprised he even managed to ask (Y/n) to marry him without blundering it all up. But then again, he hadn't made a huge gesture out of it. He'd had the ring for a few weeks and when he looked at her one night and couldn't think of his life without her, he asked her outright to marry him before giving her a million reasons why he loved her afterwards.

"They're the reason I moved here." A sarcastic, croaky laugh followed Eddie's words as he finally released his hands from his death grip on his lap and tipped his head back again.

"And… you feel guilty, about distancing from them?"

"I guess,"

Maybe it was guilt that drove him here. Maybe that was why Eddie was sitting here asking for resolution. But he knew this wasn't going right. He was talking like he wanted the priest to know the answers without knowing the situation or the problem. He was trying to let the priest lead this conversation but it wasn't working. Eddie had to open up, it had to go both ways.

"Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, it can't be for deciding to move away. People grow, people move, that's not a sin."

He could see the priest looking- or at least trying to look at him through the wooden pannels and it made him shiver. He didn't like to be observed. He didn't like opening up like this. Eddie was used to bottling things up, that was the example he was led by with his parents and the way he always dealt with things since he was little.

It was hard to rid a lifetime of practice like that and install a new technique to open up and make himself feel better.

Eddie knew moving away wasn't a sin and he knew it wasn't the reason he was here, at least, not the main reason. But it had something to do with the guilt he was feeling. Moving his family down to LA had been a big step and it had been the best decision he'd made, but it didn't let Eddie run away from his fears and his memories.

"I feel guilty for not trusting them around my family." The guttural, choked sound Eddie let out sounded like he had just swallowed poison when the words were finally off his tongue.

The guilt was weighing heavy on his heart. It was the reason he could never find the will to talk to his parents for more than a few minutes at a time. It was why he avoided their calls and tried not to talk to (Y/n) about his folks either. It was why whenever the kids wanted to talk to them, Chris would simply call his grandparents rather than ask Eddie. Chris knew his dad wouldn't speak to them, even if he didn't know why.

Eddie loved them. He loved his parents, but things were strained between them and Eddie couldn't get over how he felt and how guilty he was for distancing them from his family. It was like he had two separate families to live with. He had his home family, his wife and kids, and then he had his external family, his parents and sisters.

His abuela and aunts mingled somewhere in between those two groups because they weren't the ones he had problems with.

"Why don't you trust them?" The priest rolled his lips together and clasped his hands together while his head inclined in Eddie's direction like he was trying to make sure he didn't miss a word.

Why didn't he trust them?

That question was enough to have shivers crawling down Eddie's spine and he looked up at the roof of the confessional like he was waiting for God to leer over him and tell him how stupid and selfish he was being.

He could feel sweat glistening on his skin and trickling down his neck as he grated his nails over his knees.

All he could see was (Y/n).

Her image flashed before his eyes and when Eddie snapped his eyes closed, he could feel water splashing across his skin. Luke warm droplets of water trickling down his face. Tidal waves splashing up his arms, soaking into his shirt and drenching his thighs.

He could feel (Y/n) in his arms. He could feel his throat rubbing raw and he could remember the screams he had let out that made his jaw ache and almost made him lose his voice.

Eddie didn't realise he was crying until he felt a single tear jump from his chin and land on the back of his hand. He quickly swiped his hand beneath his eyes and took a deep, gasping breath to wake himself up. He wasn't back in that memory any more. He was here. He was in church, somewhere he never thought he would find himself again. He was okay and (Y/n) was safe at home with the kids.

Everyone was safe.

"There was an incident. I'd- I'd been out at work, and when I came home, my wife was- she was passed out and they… they weren't helping her."

His hands ran up and down his face and he clicked his jaw into place while he took a few deep breaths to try and settle his system once again. He shook his head, but he could still see that memory flashing before his eyes and it made him want to scream. If he were in here alone, maybe he would of. He might of screamed until his lungs deflated and he passed out. Because that was how he felt when he thought back to what had happened.

"She's epileptic, my folks knew that, and I told them. I told them what to do if something happens, how to help her, what she needs, everything. They've seen it before, seen me help her. But they… they put her in danger. If I didn't get there, she could of- I could have lost her."

Shuddering breaths left Eddie's lips but he managed to reel them back in and get back to a normal breathing pace. He didn't want to be having a panic attack here, in church, in front of a priest. That would be one of his regrettable nightmares.

"I see. And you don't think you can rely on your parents anymore?" His words were careful and calculated, he didn't want to upset Eddie or get this situation the wrong way round.

"Our daughter's epileptic too. My job's hard, we need people around us, but I don't think I could risk my folks trying to help like that again."

(Y/n), Chris and Bella were Eddie's world.

They meant everything to him, always had, always would, and he and (Y/n) were trying for another baby.

Having a family to look after was stressful, Eddie's job was hectic and they needed people around them who could help. People who could help with the kids and who could be there for (Y/n) if she wasn't well or if she was having a bad day with seizure flare-ups.

Both Eddie's girls were epileptic and Chris had CP, and if he couldn't rely on his parents to help look after them properly then he couldn't be around them. How could they stay in Texas after what happened? How could Eddie ever ask his parents to watch the kids?

If Bella had a seizure while staying with his parents, they might not help her properly, the same as they hadn't helped (Y/n). Eddie couldn't risk Bella's health, her safety, maybe even her life, if he couldn't trust his parents. He couldn't allow them to look after the kids and he couldn't have them around to help (Y/n) if they weren't going to take things seriously or listen to them.

Eddie would never stop his folks from seeing the kids and he didn't want to cut them out of his life, that wasn't his intention or what he was doing. But he had to have some distance from them, it was the best thing he could do to look after his family.

"What does your wife think about all of this?"

Eddie's lack of response made the priest suck in a deep breath and he couldn't help but look through the pannels to see what Eddie was doing.

He looked in distress. Both hands back to clasping together, his elbows on his knees and his knuckles pressed deeply into his lips like he was trying to silence himself and stop from saying something he shouldn't.

"She doesn't agree with you?"

"She doesn't know."

Eddie could feel another tidal wave of tears welling up in front of his eyes, blurring his slighted vision of the tiny darkened confession cubicle he was sat in. The lack of lighting in here made Eddie feel like he was in some kind of warped dream or like he was on his descent down to Hell. It didn't do his anxiety any good.

"I don't follow."

Eddie knew his words wouldn't make sense, he knew he wouldn't be able to explain, but he had to talk to someone. He had to get some clarity and resolution and have someone put him on the right path so he knew what to do next.

"The seizure was bad, she woke up in hospital with no idea what happened. She thinks it was a bad seizure, a-and when I said about moving, I didn't mention this was another reason."

Did that make him a bad husband?

Eddie had been torn. He didn't know what to do.

When (Y/n) woke up in hospital, it was much the same as her other bad seizures. She couldn't remember most of the night, she didn't know the circumstances around her seizure or the aftermath. She remembered feeling sick and then waking up with a blank space of almost twelve hours erased from her mind.

Eddie thought he was doing the right thing. He thought telling (Y/n) it had been a bad seizure- which was the truth- was better than saying his parents hadn't looked after her properly like Eddie asked them to. Like they should of. He thought it was better than having (Y/n) be upset or distrusting towards his parents. And he thought it would be easier on his parents.

When they talked about moving, they had reasons. A fresh start, get away from Texas and everything there, family, old memories, old jobs they didn't like. They knew people in LA, there was a good job going for Eddie down here and he'd already done all his training for the LAFD, he only needed to do a prohbation period and then he was fully classed as a fireman. And (Y/n) had a good opportunity down here at Dispatch.

When Eddie told his parents they were moving, they hadn't been happy, they wanted their grandkids and their son close by. But they didn't argue, they knew they couldn't change Eddie's mind. And they knew he didn't trust them anymore, even if his love for them didn't change.

"Then maybe this is a conversation you should be having with her. You might be protecting her, but you could make the situation worse. She's bound to talk to your parents at some point and you're putting yourself in an impossible position between your family. I think you're being weighed down by the truth, it's making you think you're guilty of something you're not."

"Maybe."

"I don't think you need much resolution here, the only sin in that situation is taking all this responsibility on your own."

Eddie didn't know how or why, but those words lifted something from his shoulders at the same time that they sent his heart dropping down to the pit of his stomach.

That was what he wanted to hear. He needed to be reassured that he wasn't a horrible person, that he hadn't committed some increadible sin that he needed resolution from. He was justified in some aspects and that was all he had to hear.

But he had also heard something he was afraid of. That he needed to talk to (Y/n). He had to explain what was weighing heavy on his mind and how it was affecting him. He had to tell her what happened and see what she thought about things and what she wanted to do regarding his parents and moving forward.

But Eddie didn't want to explain. He didn't want to tell (Y/n) about that night.

How could he talk to her about it when that memory plagued his mind and fuelled most of his nightmares?

***

[1 Year Ago]

Moving his hand to cup his forehead, Eddie scratched his nails into his scalp as he closed the front door behind him.

It felt strange to be walking into his parent's home like this, as if he had reverted back to that seventeen year old kid who went out to work in the morning and went out with his friends on an evening- if he wasn't conscripted to babysitting his sisters. He felt like that teenager who had finished a double shift and who was crawling through the door, trying to wake himself up enough to make his way to bed.

The only reason Eddie was coming to his parent's home rather than his actual home was because he knew his family were here.

He had dropped (Y/n), Chris and Bella off here this morning on his way to work and he had talked to his mum before he left.

He kicked off his boots by the door, remembering his mother's rules and traditions that shoes were always left at the door. Something Eddie often did back home because of how instilled those rules were into him.

The tiredness within him started to wash away the moment he headed through into his parent's living room and caught sight of his boy.

Leaning over the back of the sofa, Eddie gently cupped Chris's chin and tilted his head back so he could press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"Hey buddy, you had a good day?"

"Yeah, we watch a movie now?"

Eddie danced his eyes up and down Chris's frame and around the sofa. The eight year old was curled up in the centre of the sofa, already in his pyjamas and he had a fluffy blanket strewn across his lap. Eddie hadn't been sure if they would be spending the night with his parents but if Chris was already settled for the evening, he figured they were clearly spending the night here. That was good, Eddie wasn't sure he could find the will to drive back home, even though home was only ten minutes away.

"Give me five minutes and we will." He promised with another kiss against Chris's cheek before he looked around.

He slowly reeled up from the sofa and trudged towards the kitchen to find the rest of the family.

(Y/n) hadn't been well yesterday and most of the night last night she hadn't slept properly. At one point Eddie had spent a good hour cradling her in his arms as she cried because she could feel a seizure oncoming but it took its time.

It didn't seem like a good idea for (Y/n) to stay home today with the kids on her own. Eddie's parents had helped Shannon look after Chris while Eddie had been in the army and after the divorce, they had been there for him and Chris. They had been very welcoming to (Y/n) when she and Eddie got together and now they had Bella, they were one big unit.

His parents never minded helping with the kids and when Eddie rang them this morning and asked if they could help with the kids and keep an eye on (Y/n), they instantly agreed.

A light sparkled in Eddie's eyes when he walked into the kitchen and saw his mum. She was stood at the fridge, a beaker of juice in one hand and Bella in the other. The toddler was sat on her hip with her head on Helena's shoulder and a pacifier in her mouth. It was her bedtime now.

But when the two year old tiredly looked towards the doorway, her lips curved into a grin and she stretched her arms out in Eddie's direction.

"Daddy!" She squealed tiredly around the pacifier between her lips and started to wriggle until he headed over towards them.

"There's my baby." He cooed and carefully took Bella from his mother's arms once she turned in his direction. He lifted her up high before settling his girl down on his chest and pressing a few dozen kisses to her cheek to make her giggle.

Her hands patted his face and she nudged their noses together before she laid her head right against his neck beneath his chin. Her arms cuddled up in between them and she settled comfortably in Eddie's arms, tilted on his chest so she could doze off to sleep if she wanted.

"How's everyone been?" Eddie kept his left arm beneath Bella to hold her up while his rhythmically rubbed his right hand up and down her back and he found himself swaying from left to right to settle her.

His lips formed into a gentle smile when his mum leaned up to kiss his cheek while she set the beaker in her hand down and started tidying up the kitchen while they talked.

"These two have been fine. (Y/n) had a few of those little seizures today though," Helena waved her hand near her temple as if that would help explain what she was talking about, but she knew Eddie would understand.

"Absent ones?" He muttered while he looked down at the little girl in his arms and started to kiss the top of her head.

He could feel Bella's breaths fanning against his chest through his shirt and he could tell she was already halfway to sleep. It was a good thing they would be staying here tonight or she would be unsettled being moved to the car and then back home again.

At least absent seizures were better that full on clonic ones where (Y/n) would tense and spasm and thrash around. And those kinds were easier for his parents to help with. They weren't used to seeing people suffer with epilepsy until (Y/n) came into the family and now Bella had just been diagnosed too.

"Hm, she was drained and looked groggy, so she's gone for a bath." His mum waved her hand up near the ceiling to signal upstairs at the bathroom before she turned around and started cleaning the counters.

But her words made Eddie's eyes narrow and his lips fell into a frown against the top of Bella's head.

"What?"

What was his mum talking about? Why had (Y/n) gone for a bath? Did that mean she had just come out the bathroom or was she still in there?

"She's in the bath, honey." The way his mum cast her head over her shoulder and raised her brows at him made Eddie feel like a teenager just being told some kind of obvious answer. But her words did nothing to calm him down, if anything, they ignited the fire that was starting to rage in his system.

"Who's with her?" Eddie couldn't help the sense of urgency in his voice as his arms tightened around his daughter like she was a comfort teddy in his arms.

"Hm? Eddie she's not a child, she doesn't need supervision."

Helena looked perplexed and she tutted at the end of her sentence with a strange smile on her lips. She shook her head at him before she looked back down to the task she was completing, but she barely managed to swipe the cloth along the counter before Eddie suddenly gripped her arm. He tugged until she had no choice but to turn and face him and his grip tightened to keep her attention on him.

"Ma I told you she's been seizing all day- if she seizes in the bath she could drown. You know someone has to stay with her."

Eddie knew his wife wasn't a child and he would never treat or talk about her as if she were. But he was protective. (Y/n) was epileptic and on a bad day like his when she was having multiple seizures, she had to have someone with her to make sure she was okay.

(Y/n) never took a bath unless someone was in the room with her. Whenever she wanted a bath she would sheepishly ask Eddie if he could sit in the bathroom with her. And nine times out of ten, she ended up pulling Eddie into the bath to lay with her.

It was too risky to get a bath alone, especially if she was suffering bad seizures during the day because if she had a seizure in the bath she could slip under the water and drown. It was why (Y/n) stuck to taking showers because at least if she had a seizure during a shower, she could hurt herself but she wouldn't choke or drown.

"Oh Eddie calm down. She was very tired but she was fine, I helped her get into the bath and the tremors seemed to stop, she was quiet and content so I left her to it."

Eddie's heart plummeted down to his chest as if the organ had been disconnected and felt like a stone dropping into his intestines.

"She was- oh Jesus!"

A disgruntled sound left Bella's lips when she was suddenly jostled from her father's arms and thrust back into her grandma's hold. She whimpered and reached out for Eddie but it was too late, he was already skidding out the kitchen and running for the stairs in the hall.

No, no no. Please don't be happening now!

If (Y/n) was quiet and still trembling when his mum got her into the bath, that meant (Y/n) could possibly have still been enduring a seizure.

Eddie knew his wife. He knew she would protest if she was left in the bath on her own, she was petrified of having a seizure and not having anyone with her when it happened. If she was unusually quiet and trembling Eddie would guess she had been slipping back into an absent seizure and with all the seizing activity today, (Y/n) was liable to go into a tonic clonic seizure at any point.

His feet smacked harshly against the stairs as he thundered up two at a time, grabbing the bannister to propel himself faster until he was at the top.

He spun to the right, almost crashing into his dad at the top of the stairs but he paid him no mind.

Eddie prayed. He prayed he was wrong and he was panicking for nothing. He begged and pleaded to be overreacting and to crash into the bathroom and find (Y/n) laid there, relaxed and calm as ever. Or to walk in on her getting changed and have her flash him that cheeky, flirtatious smile and ask him what he was so eager for.

"Eddie-"

But the moment he flung open the bathroom door and peered inside, he couldn't feel his heart anymore. It felt like someone had thrust their hand inside his ribcage and physically tore out the organ that no longer seemed to be pulsing and beating within his chest.

"Dios- shit- somebody call an ambulance!"

He hurtled into the bathroom, his knees crashing down on the tiled floor with such a thud that it felt like he'd dislocated both his knees.

Without a second thought, Eddie slammed forward until his abdomen was splitting apart with the edge of the bath imbedding into his waist and he surged both arms into the bath.

He could feel the lukewarm water sloshing around and gulping up to his elbows as he joined in the tidal waves that were splashing up either side of the bath. Water was already coating every square inch of the rim around the bath and large puddles were splotched onto the floor around him.

She was seizing.

(Y/n)'s head was periodically slamming back into the bottom of the bath so much that Eddie was surprised there wasn't a dent or even a crack in the tub. But each horrid thrash of her head was dulled down by the water slowing her movements. Her arms were pinned against her chest like she was trying to cover her modesty, but her hands were bent at odd angles and her fingers were curled in odd positions like she was playing an invisible piano.

Her elbows were jabbing at the sides of the bath and causing great waves to splash about her body and her feet were crammed at the other end of the bath while both legs were jerking up and down like she was trying to back stroke in the bath.

Eddie wasted no time in sliding his hands beneath (Y/n)'s jerking body and he reeled her up until she was thrashing in the air, her back barely touching the surface of the water to keep her fully afloat.

He could see tiny marks in the back of the bath where (Y/n)'s head had clearly slammed into the bath before she went under the water.

But he had no idea how long she had been under the water or how much water she had inhaled and had been choking for. It could have been seconds, it could have been a minute.

"Fuck! Fuck!" He didn't care how loudly his voice resonated around the walls as he all but screamed.

Why had nobody listened to him? He told his parents about (Y/n)'s condition, they had known about it for years, since they met her. He told them how to look after her if she ever stayed with them like she had today. He showed them what to do if she seized and started throwing up or choking. He showed them the best positions to lay her in and how to administer emergency medication if needed.

He told them what not to do, don't let her to go sleep after a bad seizure, call an ambulance if she had continuous seizures or started biting her tongue or if she'd injured herself. And he strictly told his mum to stay with her if she was having a bad day and wanted a shower or a bath.

His mum made it sound like she had gotten (Y/n) into the bath and then left her. Did (Y/n) even want a bath? Had she even been lucid, or had his mum decided this would calm her down and helped her strip and then left her to it? Why hadn't she listened to him? Why didn't she check back in and make sure (Y/n) was okay?

"Okay baby, okay, come here. I've got you." Words tumbled past Eddie's lips as he held (Y/n) in his left arm and used his right hand to reach out and pull the plug. He heard the drain gurgling as it drank up the water.

His right arm then slid beneath (Y/n)'s thrashing legs and Eddie did his best to stop the adrenaline from making him tremble all over. He pushed up from his knees so he was crouching beside the bath and tried to be as careful as possible when he lifted (Y/n) from the bath.

He cringed at how her head bent around his arm and pushed her neck out and the strangled noises she made were breaking his soul.

Once she was in his arms, Eddie backed up and went back down to his knees so he could lower (Y/n) down onto the bath mat.

As soon as she was laid out, Eddie got to work. He rolled (Y/n) onto her left side so she was facing the bath and he was knelt behind her. His hands moved to her throat and he leaned over her with his ear as close to her mouth as he could without (Y/n) head-butting him.

She wasn't breathing properly.

She was gasping and spluttering. Her head was still jerking back and forth but water was steadily pouring from her lips. Eddie pulled back and started to pat the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades while his other hand gripped her chin and he tried to pull her head down so she could cough up the water she had inhaled.

It seemed to work. A great surge of water left her lips and spluttered onto the bath mat and her chest seemed to stop convulsing as much as the rest of her body.

"Good girl, breathe for me." Eddie's voice shook as he switched to rubbing his hand all along her back to try and keep her lungs stimulated and open so she would take in proper breaths.

He reached out and yanked a towel from the rail and draped it across (Y/n)'s waist, keeping it loose so it wouldn't tangle or consctrict her while she continued to thrash around.

"Eddie?!"

His head snapped to look over his right shoulder and daggers shot from his eyes when he looked at his parents. His mum was stood in the doorway, Bella in her arms who was thankfully looking the other way over Helena's shoulder. And his dad was stood beside her, trying to crane his head around the door to see what exactly was happening and why he was on the phone to 911. He was asking for an ambulance but he had no idea why.

"She was under the water!" Anger flooded Eddie's gritty voice that was an octave lower than usual.

This was why he was protective. This was why he asked his parents to help (Y/n) today. This was exactly what he feared happening to (Y/n) when she was alone, but not when his family were here to help her.

How was he supposed to trust them when they had let his wife drown? When they had completely ignored his advice and (Y/n)'s state and left her on her own when she was in a bad state.

What if this happened with Bella? What if Bella was playing outside or she was having a bath and they took their eyes off her for a few minutes? Would they let her drown too? Would they take proper care of Bella, or would this happen to her as well?

If Eddie hadn't of come home when he did tonight, (Y/n) would of drowned. He dreaded to think how long it would of taken for someone to check on her and find out what was happening in here.

Terror flooded Eddie's veins as he turned his attention back to (Y/n) when her arm jerked out and slammed into the edge of the bath with a horrifying thud. He gently took her wrist and bent her arm back near her chest so she wasn't at risk of hitting anything else.

When he heard Bella whimper and fidget, he looked over his shoulder to his parents who were still in the doorway.

"Take her downstairs- papi tell them she was fucking seizing under water!" Eddie clicked his fingers and waved his hand towards his parents who were being more of a hindrance than a help tonight. He knew his father hadn't told them the situation and Eddie wanted an ambulance now, this was high priority.

If (Y/n) had been under water for long she could still have some water in her lungs and she could contract pneumonia from this. And all the seizure activity she had been having yesterday and today wasn't good, she needed to go to hospital and be observed and looked after.

He was glad when both parents retreated and he heard his mum hurrying downstairs, although he heard his father standing in the hallway, shakily reeling off the situation to the dispatcher on the phone.

A sigh tumbled past Eddie's lips and he leaned over when (Y/n)'s limbs slowly started to tremble rather than thrash around. She was reduced to shaking instead of violently throwing herself around and it made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his stomach.

His lips attached to the top of (Y/n)'s head and he began gliding his hand up and down her arm over the top of the towel while his other hand brushed her wet, tangled hair from her face and his knuckles glided across her cheek.

"Okay, mi amor. You're okay, it's gonna be just fine. Good girl, I've got you."

His lips stayed against her neck and he shuffled a bit closer when a tiny murmur left (Y/n)'s lips along with another splutter and a trickle of water. He carefully curved his arm around her waist and let her lean back on his lap, but Eddie felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and trying to transfer into (Y/n)'s chest instead.

This wasn't going to happen again. Eddie couldn't let his family stay with his parents like this if this was how they were going to be looked after.

He almost lost his wife.

Eddie wasn't losing (Y/n); not for anything in the world.

[spiderb00]

I'm live - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X reader 

Synopsis: Being a streamer is fun, even more fun if your girlfriend shows up by surprise on your live. 

Genre: Fluff 

a/n: I had this idea while I was watching Tinakitten's live on Twitch, I love her, she's my favorite streamer 

English is not my first language so maybe I messed up a little and blablabla. <3 

Streaming on Twitch has always been very relaxing for me, just playing and connecting with people felt very enjoyable. I never imagined how big this would all become, when I started it was just for fun and now I have just over two thousand people watching me every time I turn on the camera. All of this has given me amazing experiences, including meeting my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

I met Sophia at a concert, specifically backstage at Olivia Rodrigo's concert, we talked a little and discovered many things in common. After a lot of talking we ended up exchanging phone numbers, going on dates, and before I knew it I was acting like a teenager with they first crush. 

At first we were very afraid that it wouldn't work. Sophia has tight schedules and seems to be everywhere all the time, but we quickly managed to unite our schedules and make everything fit perfectly 

We hadn't made our relationship public yet, so no one knew we were dating, except of course, our families and the Katz's. What happens is that a few days ago my chat noticed that there was a female voice speaking a little loudly in the middle of the live, which earned me several spams and donations where people asked who was with me at home and why I didn't show them on the live, given that all my friends had already appeared on camera at some point. 

Even though I said it was just a friend and trying my best to shift the focus to something else, my chat didn't seem to be very convinced, they were always making jokes about the "mysterious girl" in my kitchen, like at this very moment.  

"Chat, can't you just forget about it?" I said as I leaned back in my chair, resting my arms above my head to be more comfortable as I waited for all my friends to join the strange game that Foolish forced us to play. 

"What are you talking about dummy?" Tina, my friend, said when she heard me grumble about the chat.  

"The chat just being mean to me!" I said while making a sad voice, only to break laughing at the comments.   

Superglue2000 - We're Not Being Mean, We're Snooping 😊  

Bealovesyn – I'm trying to know who my wife is cheating on me with!!!

Cowboybibi – why did we never consider that it could be the voice of Tina? Yn and her seem very close... :/   

"Chat, what? Why are they putting Tina in this?" I said while laughing nervously.   

"Uh? Putting myself in what?" Tina said, her voice confused, she also seemed nervous about the situation. Tina and I are friends, neither of us wants things to get weird because of some speculation.   

"Guys, stop spamming Tina. She's never been in my kitchen." I said laughing, trying to give off an air of confidence, but I honestly think I was failing miserably.   

"Oh, that's crazy." Tina said laughing, I think she had already understood what was going on, she knew she wasn't involved in anything, so she had no reason to be afraid. 

Before I could say anything else, the door to my studio was opened, and there she was, in all her glory, my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

"Hey baby, I just arrived, I bought pizza on the way, do you want me to bring it to you?"  

Completely paralyzed, that's how I was. Without arguments and without knowing how to elaborate a word if you want. My only reaction was to whisper; 

"Baby, I'm live!"   

"I know beautiful, that's why I came here to ask if you want to eat, you've been there for a long time." Now, listen to me, despite the friendly tone, I know my Sophia, okay, I know my girl, and something's not right.  

"So yes, that's fine, thanks for asking."  

For the first time I had the courage to look at the chat.   

Spidermanmasc – Bro, you literally got a girlfriend, you dumped the losing nerds 

Cutekate – OMG, YOU REALLY HAVE SOMEONE! SHOW HER ON CAMERA!!  

Superglue2000 - Don't be shy miss, come and say hello...   

Eyekonswinning – this sounds crazy, but it sounds a lot like Sophia's voice??? 

"Well, now they're asking you to say hello..."  

Before I could complete my sentence and tell her that she didn't have to do it if she didn't want to, Sophia was already on my lap, appearing gracefully in the camera frame.   

"Hi guys, my name is Sophia, I'm Yn's girlfriend." The smile on her face seemed immense, I was completely paralyzed.   

Macaronechease – OMG, SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!  

Eyekonswinning – WHAT??? I KNEW THE VOICE WAS SIMILAR, BUT WHAT'S IT???? (You guys are very cute btw.)  

Superglue2000 – Your girlfriend is simply the leader of Katseye???

Spidermanmasc – like, and I say HOW DID YOU PULL THIS GIRL??? 

"Hey, what are you saying? I know my girlfriend is amazing, but you don't have to humiliate me." I said smiling. As unusual as all of this was, I was very happy with the positive comments.  

"Well, how about I go get the pizza and come see you play?" Sophia said as she looked at me, giving a quick kiss on my cheek before getting up and heading towards the kitchen.   

"Well... That was epic." Tina spoke, for a minute I forgot I was on the call.   

"Dude, how did you pull her???" It's literally the first sentence Foolish said on live.   

"Dude, shut up and let's play." 

After the live is over, Sophia and I are on the couch, relaxing.   

"So I love that we're public now, but I have to ask. Why did you decide to do this so unexpectedly?"  

"Because I love you, and I want everyone to know it..." She said as she gave me a long kiss.  

"And you're mine, no one will ship you with anyone other than me." she says grabbing my face with those huge nails.   

This woman is the death of me. 

[starry-bi-sky]

haha tags have a 140 character count and a max 30 tag limit, not that i would know anything about reaching max of that....

whole ass fucking backstory is PHENOMENAL-

TY!!!! If you want I gave that whole backstory its own post which, there's nothing NEW to the post other than I gave the rogue cultivator that adopted Xin Yuan a name -- Lin Kai -- and i gave XY a childhood best friend, Liu Zhihao, who I shamelessly based off Liu Qingge. Are they ancestors?? Perhaps. They certainly share a resemblance, not that SY will know since this world's Liu Qingge has passed already.

Altho it'd be so very fun in the tragic sense if SY saw Liu Mingyan and has to do SUCH a sharp doubletake because regardless of the veil concealing half her face, the half he CAN see reminds him so sharply of his dear Xiao Zhi that its like he was slapped in the face. And yk he's purposely avoided thinking about the family he left behind for the last,,, thousand years or so,,,, so he's very rapidly overwhelmed with a bittersweet sense of grief.

LBH talks to LMY for some reason or another and is so surprised when, for the first time ever, Xin Mo isn't roiling in seething jealousy. He's not sulking, or pouting, or emanating discomfort. He's uncharacteristically calm, and if LBH searches, he can catch passing glimpses of grief?? Xin Mo refuses to comment when LBH asks him about it.

(TL:DR; Xin Yuan and Liu Zhihao promised to ascend together prior to Xin Yuan getting sworded, and traveled together constantly when they were adults. LZH was XY's best friend.)

Anyways-- the Shang Qinghua and Xin Mo friendship is probably one of my favorite ideas for this au specifically because neither of them are willing to provide context?? About why they're all of a sudden friends now?? Whenever LBH is in the northern empire, Xin Mo is either sheathed at his hip, or off bothering SQH for reasons unforetold.

Shen Yuan is sprawled across one of the chairs in SQH's provided Spy Office either bitching about some dumb wifeplot they came across, bothering SQH about what Cang Qiong Mountain sect is like -- bc cmon he's SO curious about it, and he wants to know about the peak lords before they're all slaughtered in binghe's quest for revenge, OR they're complaining about their systems or about missing modern amenities. Albeit Xin Mo's memory is probably much fuzzier than SQH's in that regard since he's centuries old.

"Oh yeah I forgot about that" is a bit of a common phrase. Shang Qinghua is probably the first person -- outside of Binghe, although its up in the air whether or not Xin Mo would be that willingly emotionally honest about his past -- to know that Xin Mo was once Xin Yuan. Of which SQH inelegantly goes "WHAT?!"

Add a new conversation topic: SQH bugging SY about what his world was like a thousand years ago and verifying which epic about Xin Yuan is real and which is blown out of proportion nonsense. It's like pulling teeth though, Xin Mo would like to Ignore His Past ty. He is an epic demonic sword now, epic demonic swords don't have families or friends or lost loved ones.

It's actually not that well known that Xin Mo has cultivated a human form I think. Nothing more than a rumor, actually. Xin Mo doesn't take human form unless he's certain that the area they're in is secure. He knows that Binghe can handle himself very well on his own, but still -- it makes him twitchy.

Binghe has to coax Xin Mo out of the sword at every lord's house they take sanctuary in, and at every camp they set up in. It's a coin toss whether or not he's successful, and depends on a ton of different variables. Wifeplots, Binghe's physical state, the terrain, etc. Once Binghe takes over the underground palace, Xin Mo starts to make more physical appearances.

Once they reach the mortal realm is a new ballpark though. Xin Mo has a huge demonic presence that's easier to suppress as a sword -- but as a human? That's a different story. It's probably where Xin Mo finally reveals that he can take in spiritual qi, he just never mentioned it before because it wasn't relevant. Also, his spiritual meridians were in far worse shape than the demonic ones. The equivalent of atrophied muscles from a thousand years of disuse.

I'll need some time to figure out how that works, but eventually Xin Mo is able to cultivate enough spiritual energy to, for lack of better words, switch forms. He can't go by Xin Mo in either human or sword form since that'll certainly raise a few eyebrows, so he tells Binghe to refer to him as Sha Yuan.

Also, Binghe takes one step into the human realm when Xin Mo quite literally throws himself out of the sword and collapses onto the ground. LBH is alarmed for all of thirty seconds, before Xin Mo says "I haven't seen the sun in a thousand years" in this breathy, astonished voice, like he doesn't mean to say it out loud. His fingers are kneading the grass, and he's pressing back into the ground like he's trying to sink into the dirt.

Luo Binghe lets him stay like that for as long as he'd like.

Svsss au where Shen Yuan transmigrated as Xin Mo. Yes, that Xin Mo. Obviously Shen Yuan is pissed at this development and tried to kick up a storm but can't because sword so he is stuck waiting for Luo Binghe to show up.

After dealing with the occasional demon and mindless boredom of being just a sword, Binghe shows up. Shen Yuan is just ready to throw himself at him so they can finally get out of the abyss and the rest of the plot to happen. Binghe is surprised to learn the super powerful sword that can rip through time and space is a chill dude that wants Shen Qingqiu's castration a little too much.

Eventually through the power of the system, Soul Eater logic, or straight up complaining to God himself (sqh), Shen Yuan gets the ability to transform into a humanoid form and Luo Binghe officially needs him carnally. Shen Yuan is so happy to have hands again that he totally missed how Binghe was looking at him.

Rest the au goes on with Shen Yuan pushing Binghe to get the plot going, trying to get him to get his empire, revenge, and wives as Binghe is trying to figure out swordception.

[vikkirosko]

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Oneshot My King 🐍

Awake. Get yourself cleaned up. Prepare breakfast. Take care of your ward. To do chores around the house. And so it is from day to day. Your job has not changed for several thousand years, and perhaps someone would say that it is so easy to go crazy. But you were of a different opinion.

You were close to the ruler of Hell, Lucifer himself, and it would seem that you should have had a responsible job, and it really was, but this was a different kind of responsibility, especially the last seven years.

And so, you're doing your daily chores again. Awake. Get yourself cleaned up. Prepare breakfast for two. Then you went back to his workshop. It's been a long time since you expected that he slept normally at night, and when you opened the door, your assumption was only confirmed. Lucifer was sitting at the table, working hard on something. He was so focused that he didn't even notice you coming.

"Good morning, Your Majesty, I see that you are still busy"

Lucifer turned around abruptly and smiled broadly at you. There were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but despite this he was clearly enthusiastic.

"(Y/N)! You're just in time! I want to show you something!"

He took you to his desk and you didn't argue with him. You've known Lucifer long enough to realize that the best option right now is just to see what he wanted to show you.

"Behold! My new creation! A rubber duck that does a backflip!"

He held out his palms to you, which had a cute looking rubber duck on them, which really knew how to show a trick. A soft smile touched your lips.

"It looks pretty cute"

The smile disappeared from the face of the ruler of Hell, and he tiredly threw his new creation into a pile of similar ones, after which he hugged you. You gently stroked his back.

"I'm so tired… It feels like I'm constantly doing things wrong… Even in my own family…"

You sighed heavily, continuing to stroke his back. It was never part of your job. Initially, you just helped him with his business, but every year you became practically part of the family for Lucifer. And when he divorced his wife, his condition only got worse. He seemed to shut himself off from the whole world, even from his own daughter, with whom he had a strained relationship. But you stayed by his side. You didn't want him to starve himself one day by locking himself in his workshop.

"It's probably better if you leave… You've done so much for me… I don't want to become an even bigger burden for you…"

"Lucifer… I'm not going anywhere… I won't leave you alone…"

He looked up at you and saw your serious expression. You weren't joking or lying. You were firm in your intentions and words.

"I cannot change what happened, but I will try to make it so that you can move on. I will stay by your side and until you send me away, I will stay by your side."

Lucifer smiled guiltily.

“Thanks… You have no idea how much I am grateful to you…"

He saw how your expression softened and your lips stretched into a soft smile.

"All for you, my king"

[starberry-cupcake]

oooohhhh boyyyyyyyy Stuff Happened you folks, this might be obnoxious because there was a lot of exposition, let's hope I can keep it decent. As always, sending you all positive vibes in these trying times ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 50

30 minutes for emperor destruction, prepare the champagne

gideon is being taken by yandere twin to meet doctor reverend emperor john

she isn't very into that idea, but doesn't have much of a choice

doctor reverend emperor john is having a very important conversation with someone in the room, so gideon and yandere twin hide to listen in

and the conversation is with non other than not!dulcinea

not!dulcinea is being possessed

by commander wake

I ASKED FOR THIS IN THE PREVIOUS ONE

why did you need harrow, then, you dramatic asshat?

so, basically, commander wake's name is actually a couple quotes and lyrics to eminem's song from 8 mile

her name isn't amanda, it's just awake, etc.

I'd take amanda over eminem but ok

they said they are words that date back thousands of years, so we're in the future

I considered this, but not due to book reasons, just because one time I was talking to @lady-harrowhark about one time a barbie of mine was stolen when I was a kid and it somehow related to tlt, this was A Long Time Ago but I thought "what, are the books in the future?"

I have no idea if my hollywood hair barbie had anything to do with the books directly or if it was just some fandom thing @lady-harrowhark knows and I don't, but that planted the idea in my head

if it's a spoiler, don't tell me

but I didn't pick up any clues from the book until eminem

emperor's last name is gaius, which I knew from an untagged non context dashboard post

doctor reverend emperor john gaius wants to know what commander wake was doing in the ninth, because she landed there on purpose

and also is impressed that she's been a revenant for nearly 20 years and doesn't know how she got there

I think it's the sword

so, in come augustine and mercygirl

because now we're having a party

dr reverend emperor john says "Am I in trouble?" because he's the most punchable asshole in the known universe

and introduces commander wake with an evanescence quote rather than an eminem quote

yes, ok, I much prefer that, thank you

thank you, Fallen by Evanescence (2003) you changed my life

so, turns out that commander wake was in cahoots with these two lyctors

but things turned south and gideon the first was sent to kill her

she went to the ninth to break into the tomb

it always comes down to the tomb

ice cube barbie is very popular

so, I was right when I said that gideon wasn't conceived Traditionally

the eggs were my clue on that bit, the eggs on the notes

they were supposed to 1) use dr reverend emperor john's genes to 2) create a baby with his blood to 3) break the blood ward to 4) open the tomb

CONVOLUTED LYCTOR PLANS

but the eggs didn't work, so commander wake decided to birth gideon herself

when I said gideon was a demigod and used hercules memes and when I compared her to superman or whatever

I was more correct than I thought

commander wake called gideon "bomb"

this song could go into the gideon playlist @lady-harrowhark and I were talking about

because we didn't have enough lyctors at this party, in comes gideon the first

from battling the beast, which is what everyone was supposed to be doing, btw, just putting that out there

gideon the first will receive a lot of very clever, funny and amazing nicknames by gideon that I can't even remotely compete with

I vow to you and your prowess for nicknames, queen

gideon the first comes in, removes gideon's glasses from harrow's body, and slides them on his face

commander wake me up before you go go looks at him with heart eyes

and he shoots her

gideon, things were so much easier when you didn't have a family, girl

this is too stressful

everyone is surprised that gideon the first fought the beast, the beast ran and gideon the first is alive

I am NOT SURPRISED because HE WAS FIGHTING ALONGSIDE MATI NONIUS

and ortus, and protozoa, and martita

BUT, MOST IMPORTANTLY, MATI NONIUS

well done team harrow!!!

so, basically, gideon the first didn't say anything about the whole commander wake situation because he thought gideon was his

which accounts for my doubts the other recap on how I thought gideon wasn't Conceived Traditionally but there were doubts from gideon the first's side

gideon prime, gideon zero, gideon senior (all gideon jokes, not mine) says he was with her for about two years

so augustine starts explaining how they got dr reverend emperor john's genetic material through god apate major

WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED

IT'S ALWAYS THE ORGIES, ISN'T IT?

man, I'd rather not know the details, thank you

gideon the first also doesn't want to know the details

the emperor's bolthole wasn't as inexorable as it was advertised to be, turns out

it's basically a revolving door

ANYWAY

the emperor goes "so you killed her and the baby, right?"

IN COMES GIDEON, INTRODUCING HERSELF

"I'm not fucking dead"

and the emperor goes "hi, not fucking dead, I'm dad"

CHAPTER 51

gideon starts remembering childhood things like suffering and fighting with harrow and telling harrow that maybe she is the daughter of someone important and they don't know it

"You remember how the fuck-off great aunts always used to say, suffer and learn? If they were right, Nonagesimus, how much more can we take until you and me achieve omniscience?"

man, this is rough

so, the thing about the eyes

gideon apparently has AL's eyes

whose name isn't only Annabel Lee

it's also Alecto

the alecto everyone keeps mentioning in the fandom

so, this explains why seeing gideon's eyes was like seeing a ghost to these lyctors

also why ice cube barbie had gideon's eyes

THERE ARE A LOT OF THREADS GOING ON IN THIS BOARD

GIDEON IS CONNECTED TO A LOT OF PEOPLE

NONE OF THEM GOOD

the lyctors bring back what teacher said in canaan au, about them asking dr reverend emperor john to kill AL aka Annabel Lee aka Alecto aka ice cube barbie

apparently all of them (except for gideon the first) hated her and were low key scared of her and high key scared of what might happen with her around

they think the beasts are coming partly because of her

and whatever dr reverend emperor john did to resurrect her

the emperor says he didn't kill her, he "switched her off"

not successfully, because she's been sort of roaming around

mercygirl and augustine say that everything about this is very sus because what if he didn't kill AL??? and what is going on with the origin of his power???

dr reverend emperor john goes "you both do tend to go overboard on the foreplay"

mercygirl and augustine figured out that harrow's true cavalier had AL's eyes

but it was impossible for a baby to be born with AL's genes

however, it was very probable that a baby had been born in the ninth with the emperor's genes

because they had been planning on that to happen

albeit in a different way, without the human intervention

so, if gideon has AL's eyes but the emperor's genes

it means AL's eyes aren't hers and the emperor's aren't his

the emperor's weird eyes are AL's and gideon's eyes are the emperor's

because.......

he achieved lyctorhood without having to slurp his cavalier aka AL

I'm very interested in this potential situation if we get gideon alive again

but everyone else is pissed off because they had to slurp their cavaliers unnecessarily

yandere twin also decides to join the chat after this

and, apparently, anastasia had figured it out too

the ninth necro who everyone said was the one who couldn't become a lyctor

the one with a room unused

until harrow

the emperor's version of events is that things went off the rails in the process and he had to kill them both

augustine tells dr reverend emperor john to just stop already with his plan of destroying everything

and the emperor says that the man before his resurrection would have hated him to say that

mercygirl then goes "I'll forgive you if you tell me you didn't mean to kill my cav"

and the emperor goes "yes, I'll do whatever"

so he hugs mercygirl

and mercygirl

FUCKING DECIMATES HIM

SHE WRECKS HIM

SHE MELTS HIM INTO NOTHINGNESS

gideon says she's an orphan again while I'm giving everyone a party hat and a piece of celebratory cake

I'M SORRY THIS WAS LONG but we're reaching the end of this book!!! See you next time!!!

[skyeconch]

[Game night]

Y/N : Jeff!

Y/N : get off tinder! We’re playing a game!

J : for the last time— it’s █████! Not Jeff or whatever names starts with j!

Y/N : I literally have no idea what you’re talking about

J : you— anyways I’ve got no matches on this godforsaken app. These females don’t want me

J : and I’m a decent nice guy, if I’m doing this bad, imagine how bad Curly’s doing 🙄

Curly, smacks lips : okay 😐

Y/N : what do you even have to offer a woman? A five inch d!ck?

Daisuke : :O

J : 😑

J : you know I’m just really grateful that you rounded up instead of down. Most people don’t do that for me, that was nic—

Y/N : yeah, yeah no problem

Curly : nothing wrong with five

J : Ok. No. But seriously— I mean— I have plenty to offer.

J : because number one— I have a car.

Y/N : It’s Curly’s car 😑

Curly : MY car 😐

J : number two— I can drive. And I mean what more do you need to do these days?

Y/N : I mean— I don’t know. Maybe change your name?? And maybe stay 20 feet away from people?? Or just don’t engage with people?? Move to places with 0 population??

Swansea, butts in : yeah, yeah you’re a real catch. I call *drops some chips*

Daisuke : you can’t call :((

Swansea : what the fuck are we even playing?

Anya : we’re playing Go Fish. But instead of saying “Go Fish” we say, “Go Dale” :)

Y/N : God bless his soul

Curly : y’all have any jacks?

Daisuke : you asked that last turn— GO DALE

Curly : damn it

Y/N : don’t worry, Jennifer—

J : it’s █████ 😐

Y/N : —JDP445 ☺️

J : 😶

Y/N : like I said, don’t worry, you’re not missing out on much

Y/N : y’know I was married once!

Curly : really???

Daisuke : tell us your love story!

Anya, rememberers Y/N’s last psychological evaluation : oh no. Please don’t ask them that right no—

J : SHUT UP!

Curly : █████! Don’t yell! Uhh go ahead, y/n

Y/N : 1956 😌 Las Vegas 😌

Curly, sees Daisuke’s open cards : You DO have a jack!

Daisuke : oopsies

Y/N : —she was a dancer and I had just won a 5 thousand dollars hand of blackjack!

Y/N : she insisted we wed by sunrise ☺️

Y/N : she tried to pickpocket me the whole time ☺️

Curly : I guess that is beautiful?? In a way??

Y/N : her mobster boyfriend found us in the bridal suite of the Fremont Hotel

Y/N : and splattered her ALL over the wall ☺️

Anya : you just had to ask, huh 😑

Y/N : I was just happy I didn’t have to share my 5 thousand dollars 😌

[howtostartafight]

You really thought you did something? That uno reverse card is pointless (and dumb) when all of your points are untrue and don't even have a basis in canon. The Jedi (as written by Lucas) have never justified or even perpetuated a genocide and I have no idea where you are even getting your information when it is so blatantly untrue. (Anakin and Dooku were both no longer Jedi when they committed the atrocities that they did.) The Jedi don't even use violence as their first choice, they're diplomats first and foremost. They even offered Palpatine the option of surrendering before he killed Saesae, Agen, and Kit and Mace realized he was too dangerous to be kept alive.

The Jedi are not a cult by any definition, they don't brainwash anyone and they certainly don't force anyone to stay a Jedi. Dooku himself left the Order with no contest and even remained in contact with people there because they loved him and still thought of him as a friend even though he didn't want to be a Jedi anymore. And what "dark & unnatural families" are you even talking about???? Jedi come from all over. Dooku was a noble, Feemor was a farmer's son, Quinlan was royalty, Aayla was a slave, A'Sharad was a legendary Jedi's son. The Jedi came from all over and your attempt to generalize is sad. The Jedi don't need to "fix" anyone, they teach them the ways of the Jedi and if that doesn't fit with how the child wants to lead their life, they can join the Jedi Service Corps or, y'know, go home???? They don't even kidnap kids, the parents have every right to refuse. Hell, Quinlan's parents DID refuse and Tholme only taught him when he was younger because of how strong his psychometry was. Quin was never supposed to join the order, but his parents were killed by his aunt and then his aunt tortured him, and it wasn't safe for him to be on his home planet anymore. Jedi aren't hive-minded either, the Jedi Code is literally up for interpretation by members and they're aware they have differing interpretations

You also can't fucking remake the definition of genocide just because you feel like it??? A genocide is, by definition, "the deliberate and systematic destruction of a racial, political, or cultural group." The Jedi were most definitely a culture and their genocide was planned for over a thousand years, so definitely deliberate and systematic. The Jedi don't mold children to their box, because there's no single, perfect way to be a Jedi. They teach mindfulness and self-discipline, they value knowledge, balance, and teaching. They aren't victims of circumstance, their deaths were orchestrated and planned for and, again, a GENOCIDE. The Jedi were quite literally the most open minded people in the galaxy, they were inter-galactic diplomats and peacekeepers. There is no way they would have been able to do their job if they weren't open minded and considerate of other cultures.

Sure I'll give you that maybe the Sith weren't based on Nazis, but you can't say that Palpatine's (Nazi based) Empire is separate. Palpatine is a fucking Sith???? He is the culmination of over a thousand years of planning and manipulation. He IS what the Sith wanted. He and his Empire aren't separate from the Sith, the Sith RAN the Empire. He created it, he defined it, and he is exactly what the Sith dreamed of. Complete and utter power and control over the galaxy. The Jedi weren't even remotely similar to Nazis, they welcomed differences (including religions, so many Jedi practiced their homeworlds religion) and had the most diverse range of sentients in their ranks. They didn't even have to hide behind a halo, they knew they weren't perfect, because they were only human, and strived to simply be the best they could.

The Sith's core beliefs were not "self-empowerment and personal freedom"?????? Where did you even get that idea?? Self-empowerment literally means "making meaningful choices and positive change" and not a single change the Sith ever made was positive. Yes, the Sith were founded by a former Jedi, who wanted more knowledge and POWER through the dark side. They were driven by their hatred, anger, and greed for more than what they had. They spent a thousand years planning for a galactic takeover, they started a war for it, and began their takeover with a genocide. No sensible Sith was focused on survival, they literally killed each other to further their own power when the other showed weakness.

Sith concepts are the opposite of great??? They kill each other to further their power, which is part of the reason they fell (because of all the infighting). I have no idea where you got the idea that Jedi think people "need their saving" and "who you are is bad and wrong" because it's insane. The amount of differences welcomed and cherished by the Jedi compared to the Sith?? The Jedi openly allowed their members to practice their homeworlds religions and cultures (Bariss, Luminara, Shaak-Ti, and Ahsoka all do off the top of my head). Sure you may feel that way about the Sith, but that just signals to me that something about Star Wars was fundamentally misunderstood by you, because every time the Sith appear on screen, they do something AWFUL. (Genocide, murder, torture comes to mind).

Yea I know the Sith were former Jedi. Former Jedi who became fanatics and started millenia of suffering. They also left the Jedi themselves, the Jedi didn't "throw them away". They rejected their new practices because they were dangerous and built their empire on the backs of slaves and suffering.

Jedi were peace-loving warrior-monks. They spent their lives fighting for democracy and equality. If you had bothered to do your research, you'd know that both the Sith and the Jedi were based on "knighthood, chivalry, paladinism, samurai bushido, Shaolin Monastery, Feudalism, Hinduism, Qigong, Greek philosophy and mythology, Roman history and mythology, Sufism, Confucianism, Shintō, Buddhism and Taoism, and numerous cinematic precursors." Please point to where on that list Catholicism and Nazis fall. I beg of you to give me one good example of how the Jedi are inspired by either of those things. Just saying it is never going to make anyone believe you. And point me to where the Jedi were systemic liars, because I can point you to where the Sith were.

I am very far from media illiterate. Lucas wrote the Jedi as the good guys. Therefore, they are the good guys. It wasn't shades of gray where the Sith were right sometimes and the Jedi were right others. The Jedi were warrior-monks who kept the peace for centuries. I know exactly what I'm talking about. I have citations and proof. You do not. You have not given me a single example of your claims.

I didn't even call you either of those things, please get checked for cataracts. Don't even know where you got the idea that I was a weird church kid or I tell people they're "going to burn in hell" but honestly you clearly make illogical assumptions all the time so I'm not shocked.

order 66 was NOT a genocide. you can only genocide people & cultures, you can’t genocide a systemically deified super-religion that wants everyone in existence to either agree with them & exist their way or burn in hell for eternity. any decent ppl who went down with the purge forfeit their lives down the drain along with their family, home & very sense of self. they. had. it. fucking. coming.

from an indigenous person, fuck y’all for even comparing order 66 to genocide & talking all over survivors of real genocides to save face for your evangelical faith & the people you think are good guys. you are not about to disrespect the continent-sized OCEANS of blood that make up our ancestors & loved ones who were lost to real genocide. fuck off.

[patience-knowledge-focus]

After looking through several days of syscourse, you know what:

There is no point in spending thousands of words arguing about the validity of experience. It's pointless.

You can scream from the rooftops that the ICD/DSM/DIDresearch/Your Uncle says some experience isn't possible. And people are going to keep having it all the same. And they will give it whatever label fits.

Much more interesting are some of the bounds and conditions.

Did you know (from purely anecdotal evidence of reading #plurality tags for the last years) that people of all labeled origins tend to describe very similar experiences? Whatever is happening in the brain, is occurring in ways that share common language. This is fascinating.

Did you know that most systems on Tumblr stumble onto their systems rather than create them (again, regardless of origin)?

Or that most systems view their headmates in a generally positive light? Even when sharing frustrations about them and about the disorder (for those who are disordered). People who talk about spiritual origins, including possession, also discuss their experiences with generally positive words.

Did you know that some people introject fictives wholesale, and others seem to create and introject particular qualities or archetypes? And that those introjects often speak to the system's real-world influences, often from their childhood?

Did you know that a fair few people discuss a particular experience of being two, often complementary, beings? Specifically, two, often of different genders, often perceiving themselves as close friends, person+imaginary friend, or siblings? And I have no idea why. If this isn't cool, I don't know what is.

What I want is to see more people be interested in the details and less worried about policing each other's lived experience. I want to know what that means? Why does the brain do it that way vs. some other way? What does this mean for personality development?

Look, all I'm saying is that, arguing about whether someone is or isn't a system isn't going to get you anywhere. Whereas discussing shared experiences is a fascinating glimpse into how people understand themselves, how brains work, and how spirituality is closely connected to physical experience. These are remarkable things to dive into. That's what I want to see discussed more.

[ordowrites]

Transaction

cw: mild hurt/comfort, allusions to aventurines past. mdni, blank blogs dni. allusions to ns/fw activities. some angst. a plot bunny to expand on later. maybe spoilers. nb!reader. maybe ooc.

You're quietly getting out of bed and all he can do is simply watch you, and how the morning sun makes you glow. You are a sight to behold, art to memorialize for eternity. Normally, he'd say something snarky or off putting or flirty, but he can't today. Just doesn't seem possible.

He rolls over. You haven't left yet. Maybe -

"If I pay you a few thousand credits, would you entertain the idea of breakfast with me?" Aventurine hates to admit that he doesn't want to be alone. Not for anything. But if you leave, he'll -

You frown at him. "I wasn't aware that our relationship was transactional." You don't need money to stay. You sigh, he thinks he ruined it. Money usually gets people to stay. Why doesn't it with you? "What do you want for breakfast?"

"To be perfectly honest -"

"Don't say pancakes."

"They're a breakfast staple." He says, with a little smile. He doesn't like him, but they were his first meal after he was freed for killing his former master. It's hard to not like something that tasted so good at the time. "I can make them."

"No, don't worry. I will." You hesitate for a minute. "Aventurine. Don't ever feel like you have to pay me for...being your fuckbuddy." You leave to go make breakfast.

"Ha...of course not. Silly me." he chides himself as he looks down at his bed. You're different, obviously. He likes you more than he should.

So please, he silently begs as you return with the food. Stay.

[delta-lethonomia]

ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

[voyter]

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

seven's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough. 

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, “will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders. 

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook. 

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well. 

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last. 

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties. 

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear. 

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again. 

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable. 

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice. 

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter. 

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision. 

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from. 

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace. 

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. ���We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth. 

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children. 

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear. 

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment. 

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point. 

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you. 

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.���

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly. 

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?” 

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his. 

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[matcha-chai-latte]

This page is so full of naivety and misperception. After all the events, I really doubt that the meaning of Yona's existence is to bring happiness to the dragons, and the way she believes in it so devoutly arouses suspicion.

She is contradicting herself. “Back then he had no choice but to leave them behind, so I said I would go for them again. That I wouldn’t let it be the end”.

Girl… yes he did have a choice! The only reason you had to go for them again is because you didn’t let Hiryuu end them back then. And you had to go for them again to actually put an end to them, because of the cycle of deaths YOU started. Where is the logic in what she says? And Hiryuu agreed with Yona’s idea because he wanted to live a little longer and not leave the dragons behind. As a result, countless generations of these dragons and people have suffered for thousands of years. And where is the logic in that?

And as I said earlier, she really did go to the god realm with ZERO plan of action. Little princess just felt like telling off the gods (with the loud words of making them fall), ordering them to dispel the curses and returning back on her own terms😂 what a fool…

I’m honestly starting to think that Yona is simply a naive egoist and that her purpose is to bring doom to the kingdom because of her actions.

And the lesson of this story would be that it’s scary when huge power lies in the hands of idiots…

[vidavalor]

Thanks for reading, @simonezitrone79 💕 If, by a mask, you mean that you think Aziraphale is faking something because he has a plan, we'll have to see what happens but I am afraid that I disagree. I mean, in the long run, Aziraphale has chosen wisely because he has chosen Crowley and good people overall, but people can sometimes make the wrong choices in the moment for the right reasons and I think that's what is happening in The Final 15.

Aziraphale is lovely and smart and a good judge of character but everyone has blind spots and those blind spots are usually driven by past trauma. I think that's kind of a lot of what's happening in S2, as it also is in Crowley's story and his self-doubt causing him to trust only Beez's take on The Book of Life and to not be able to fully see the big picture with Gabriel for most of S2. I do not think that Aziraphale has a secret plan in the elevator. I think we see the ups and downs of this stuff a bit in S2-- 1941, Part 2 is a story of having a win but The Final 15 is one of a loss.

It's only a loss because both Crowley and Aziraphale are having trouble talking about their frozen peas when they are usually better at such things. As such, they both fall victim to their own blindspots and can't see or hear one enough to recognize what's really happening and help each other through the way they usually do.

Aziraphale's blind spot is that he'll sometimes trust the wrong person for the right reasons. He is only really prone to being able to be manipulated-- and to manipulating himself-- when the situation is around a part of Aziraphale's life where he feels that he's not good enough. He is good enough but he doesn't let himself believe that.

He once wound up held at gunpoint in a church by Nazis to whom he had given several of his most beloved, priceless books out of a sense that he wasn't doing enough to help the Allied Forces win the war. It's that 1941 scene that The Final 15 is mirroring in a lot of places and I think it's for similar reasons that Aziraphale goes with who he believes is The Metatron.

It's not for the world this time, the way it was with Rose/Greta in 1941-- it's for Crowley. Aziraphale was a hard pass on going to Heaven until he was tempted with the idea of eternal safety for Crowley. It's not a genuine offer-- it would collapse Heaven & Hell if even one demon were to be restored as an angel-- but it's an offer Aziraphale feels he can't refuse because to do so would be to reject something that he thinks could keep Crowley safe.

He's taken the wrong path with this because he is letting their abusers dictate the parameters of their life but it's understandable how he got to this point. It's not easy watching someone suffer for years upon years the way he has with Crowley. He wants to be able to offer Crowley the safety and peace that he doesn't think he can give him, even as Crowley is trying to tell him that the only safety and peace he knows is with Aziraphale and that's all he needs. It's Aziraphale not allowing himself to accept that he is good enough as he is and it will, quite literally, be the death of him. That's the "going to Heaven" and going into the light of the elevator to me-- it's a fall, it's a death.

Gabriel could have gone all the way down this path himself but he didn't to have a contrasting story to Aziraphale. Gabriel's issues are, at the core, the same as Aziraphale's. They are both excessively self-sacrificing and struggle with being told that they exist to serve God and others and so are not to claim any resources for themselves. They are supposed to be above all of it and they both know that's bullshit but they've been stuck trying to figure out a path forward. It's not a matter of access to resources as to which one of them survived it in S2 because they both found what they needed.

It's a matter of who shut people out and who let people in.

People can go up and down with this. Gabriel spent thousands of years too afraid to trust-- and for understandable reasons, considering the culture of Heaven. It's only when he is open with trusted friends who see him as a person that he starts to heal. Aziraphale is often open with Crowley and that has saved him for a long time. One of the loveliest moments in the series is an example of that in 1941, Part 2, when Aziraphale expresses his hesitation to go to Goldstone's-- to do the human things he loves and wants to do. Aziraphale has been doing those things for thousands of years but he still has conflict over them. Crowley recognizes that struggle in Aziraphale and he was able to help him in 1941 because Aziraphale let him. In the present of S2, though? The opposite is happening.

In the present of S2, Aziraphale ultimately shuts Crowley out. It's not just Crowley he shuts out-- Aziraphale also ignores any lessons he could be taking from Gabriel and Beez. He does so because he's blinded by his negative self-thoughts-- the darkness/demons have overrun his bookshop. It doesn't mean it's permanent but I think that's the plot more than that it is that he gets into the elevator with a plan. His smile over the closing credits is a miserable kind of madness. Is he ultimately going to help burn it all down? Oh, yeah. But, in the short term, he's completely fucked.

The angel with the huge heart that helps everyone else seems too lovely to fall but he is falling because, while he's the first person to help others in need, he goes through periods where he doesn't acknowledge that he's a person in his own right as well. He thinks he should be above being a person but he also knows he is one. Some days, he can fight it and some days, he loses the battle. It is kind of the ultimate in human stories, eh?

All of Bedford Falls is going to need to save George Bailey here.

Playing with Fire

Armageddon: The end of the world.

World: The Earth. Also: a person's own universe-- the life of an individual and the people they let into that life.

With that in mind...

Armageddon: The destruction of Earth and the deaths of all living beings inhabiting it. Also: a person's mental health crisis.

"When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre." -Agnes Nutter's final prophecy of Armageddon and a big theme of the story in a nutshell.

Faces: The front portion of the head of a human or an animal.

Also: to confront and deal with a difficult or unpleasant task or situation.

Also: the front of a building, including its front door.

Agnes Nutter's prophecy is not just about the destruction of Earth but about the everyday Armageddon of people's lives. Soon enough, we all will eventually find ourselves playing with fire-- in dark times and in the danger zone of falling. We all wind up there at some point and we need help either staving off a fall or getting back up from one.

The only way out of that is to choose our faces wisely. It's to choose to trust the people who show us they are worthy of that trust and to let them in enough to help with safety and support.

It's to form a mutual aid association and face the world together as a group. That's the only way to move through the dark stuff to keep it from getting you-- to go as one, together.

In S2, Gabriel survives by doing exactly this to the letter, even though he doesn't know Agnes' prophecy. He is the positive example of this theme in action.

Gabriel chooses his faces wisely. He is unconcerned with how a person is labeled or judged by others and, so, trusts two demons in Crowley and Beez to help him, and enjoys joining the human world as a bookseller. He puts his fate in the hands of Aziraphale, the only angel he has seen with the good heart and moral character to be fully trustworthy.

He isn't bothered or intimidated by Beez's change of face because he can recognize them enough to know they are who they say they are and outward appearance matters little to the guy who is, ironically, also sometimes the vainest person on the show.

He picks a person in Beez to trust with all of himself who has proven with their actions that they are worthy of that trust. This is the wisest of choices as it's evident Ineffable Bureaucracy were made for each other.

Without opening up and trusting Beez, Gabriel would not have had the means to survive his fall without losing himself entirely. Trusting them is the wisest choice of a face that Gabriel has made.

He then is ready to face his issues with Heaven and its role in all definitions of Armageddon. He rejects the, well, literal face that is The Metatron...

...and goes to the face of the building where he knows he'll be safe...

...because he knows he can trust the faces of the couple who lives there to let him in and help him.

As such, Gabriel survives his personal Armageddon. He falls and he's struggling but he is saved from forms of death by Beez, Crowley and Aziraphale, finds a new way forward, and rendered literally immune to darkness as a result.

Gabriel went down in S2... both figuratively and literally... a mental health crisis and cast down from his position at the top of Heaven and down in the lift to Earth as he ran for his life... but he's saved from the fall leading all the way to death by virtue of the fact that he chose his faces wisely. Beez, Crowley and Aziraphale helped him find his way through and join The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association and now Jim has people.

Not only does this help Gabriel but it's going to help others as well because now that Jim is on the mend, he can be there for them and others as well.

But what about the one whose story Gabriel is paralleling in S2?

What about Aziraphale? Did he remember in S2 what Agnes told him?

He did not.

In S2, for the most part, Aziraphale was pushing away the people and things he needed to survive a personal Armageddon and, as of the end of S2, is playing with some serious, serious fire.

In The Final 15, Aziraphale chose an untrustworthy being wearing the very same face that Gabriel had wisely finally rejected...

...over quite literally a lot of face of the person he trusts more than anyone else...

...he chose the elevator door face ("going to Heaven"/death) over that of his own bookshop (life)...

He was offered the chance to become the new Gabriel and that is likely more true in the S2 falling Gabriel sense of things than it is in terms of the job offer being real. In his effort to take care of everyone, Aziraphale didn't let in the people around him to help him, too. He didn't see himself as a person in his own right. He made the fatal mistake against which Agnes cautioned and which Gabriel avoided.

That said... everyone goes down. It's just gravity. Everyone wants to live and they'll eventually fall trying. No one asks for death. They all ask for coffee.

But those that manage to survive can find wings can fly and go back up together.

Insects, birds...

The flies. The nightingales...

Did you give wings to peacocks, Job? The communication metaphor of feeding the ducks frozen peas:

Or teach the ostrich to run? The ostrich who ran:

And when you feed your ducks your frozen peas and make your own history, you're living life together.

Everyday/it's a getting closer/going faster than a rollercoaster...

A rollercoaster goes in a bendy loop. It goes up, it goes down, it goes upside down and right side up again and sideways and every which way, and when, all is said and done, it drops you off back off in what looks like the same place you began... but the experience has left you a changed person. This is life.

Life is a series of loops on the rollercoaster track. You can go up and you can down and it doesn't matter because it's all the same track and your position, so long as you are alive, isn't fixed but forever in motion.

If you choose your faces wisely like Gabriel did, they can help you stay alive, get back on the rollercoaster, and take the ride with you. If you shut out those who are there, you might never get back on. If you don't, as the song suggests, love will surely never come your way.

But what if you're like Aziraphale and you have chosen your faces wisely but then, unwisely, pulled away from them? What if you push people away when you're struggling and are only going so high up because the track has run out and you're about to take a massive plunge down? Is it really all over for him?

Yes and no. Yes, because a fall is a death of sorts and there is no going back. Aspects of it will forever be a part of him... but, also, no, because while he might have chosen his faces, for very sympathetic reasons, ultra-poorly in The Final 15, he has chosen them very well before. As such, Aziraphale has people around him, like Crowley and The Lords of the Flies, that will help him back up-- as well as some people he might not yet even realize are in his corner.

To save Aziraphale from the effects of Aziraphale's own, personal armageddon, they're going to have to come together to change Heaven and, in doing so, they will stop the destruction-of-Earth kind of Armageddon in the process. In choosing the faces of one another over the floating head's face, they'll save their individual worlds and the Earth as a whole, giving everyone a chance to live their lives as they see fit.

Save the angel, save the world.

A-hey? A-hey-hey. 😇

[gauntletgirlie]

Anyone else think about writing fan fiction but then realise your OC would just end up being an idealised/better version of yourself and also you keep attacking the story with different plot lines because ultimately you just want to end up with the character you��re obsessed with and you can’t make up your mind what the best/most compelling/most satisfying way for that to happen would be, so you keep the stories in your head?

Besides, your ideas are too insane for anyone to like, surely, even though you’ve written whole scenes in your head and you think they might actually be quite good alright?

Just me?