#I love the smell of misogyny in the morning

[ladyniniane]

[avtrbee]

the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

-

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

-

check out my masterlist, and don’t forget to lmk how i can improve this fic <33

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Love.

Yan Illumi x F Reader.

Synopsis: His stare brings more death than a guillotine's blade.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping/forced marriage, dub-con, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, pregnancy, threats of violence, manipulation, misogyny, mentions of physical abuse/isolation, and descriptions of murder.

Word Count: 1.3k.

*~*~*~*

In the morning, you were given a nightgown slightly shorter than the one you laid in the evening before, and your houseshoes were nowhere to be seen. The dress had no sleeves and a space above the bodice which made your collarbones and neck show.

Nothing covered your injuries from the night before – even though you know that everyone knew about your escape attempt last month, and everyone knew the way Illumi dragged you back under the full moon. Kikyo scolded you and threatened to sear your tongue and palms with a hot iron, Silva refused to let you have treatment for your sprained ankle until you apologized, and Zeno won’t even look at you.

Your assigned butlers said even less than usual. Remina merely said two words. Stay here. Haruhi had more to say, but not by much. Master Illumi will be here shortly she said, and then they were both gone. 

You were sitting upright on the bed as your more injured leg was surrounded by pillows – a tactic made by yourself to attempt to not make the sprain worse. Jalil… Jalil taught you that.

“I’m coming in,” Illumi’s voice rang in your ears despite his tone being on the quieter side.

When he locked the bedroom door up again, you smelled something faintly sweet. Soap and shampoo and conditioner, perhaps. Or maybe it was just cologne. Either way, it was odd for such a scent to be coming from Illumi. He usually just used products that had no scent at all. There is less of a chance of being caught, he said when you had asked. His steps were slow and steady. They would be undetectable if he did not announce his appearance prior. It was not surprising, because you know what he is, what his whole family is. 

You welcome him just as you were taught. Illumi simply nodded.

“Illumi… I…”

He puts his hand up, a gesture common among family members when you speak when you are not supposed to. Compared to all of them, you are just a dog. A rowdy street mutt that was taken in by force and must learn what its job is; to please its master. 

“Not yet,” Illumi says. His tone wasn’t the harshest you had heard from him – that title by far goes to him yesterday as he threw around furniture attempting to find you and Jalil. “I have questions, and you are going to respond with a nod or a shake of your head.”

You stay quiet. He sits across from you, leaning on the lower side’s bed frame.

“I understand,” You murmur, not daring to make any eye contact just yet.

“Was that man someone you knew before you married me?” He asked. “Nod or shake your head. It doesn’t matter what your answer is, you know. He is already dead because of you.”

You flinch. When you don’t answer, he asks the question once more. You can feel Illumi’s eyes widening and narrowing with each second that passes on the ticking clock above the vanity. He asks the question two more times, slightly harsher. You don’t say a word because all you can see and feel is red – it’s sticky and warm and smells awful and-

“[First],” Illumi repeats your name enough times to make you come back to reality.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper, accompanied by a shake of your head.

Illumi’s face doesn’t soften. Perhaps it did in the past, but that feels like an eternity ago. You got away with things back then, as small as they were. When you apologized, it all went away. Illumi defended you against his mother’s ideas of punishment, saying you will learn what it means to be his wife. But… that time never came, the lessons weren’t drilled into your skull enough. You didn’t heed any warnings from the younger butlers. You didn’t learn how to read Illumi’s body language fast enough.

“You aren’t forgiven.” 

His tone is sharper, more akin to a hiss than something more crooning, but it isn’t full-on anger. 

You’ll take what you can get for now.

“However, we’ll continue, and discuss your aborance later.” 

You can only imagine what that means. It makes your heart deflate and attempt to free itself from your ribcage – banging and screaming to be freed from the hell that is your body, that is Illumi, that is this family, that is this mansion, that is your life from now on. 

“Had you lived with this man for two weeks or more during your escapade?” He asks.

You nod. Illumi didn’t seem to like that answer, from the way the corners of his lips turned downward. Then he buries it inside himself now, just like everything else he dislikes and feels and wants.

It’s only a matter of time before that bomb explodes and burns you to ashes.

“Third question,” You grip your knees, onto the thin soft fabric of the nightgown. If you had more hands you would hold onto the blankets too. The pillowcases and the mattress cover too; just anything to give you the illusion of safety and stability. “Did you have sex with this man?”

Your life flashes before your eyes like you’re a moth about to be absorbed by a lantern’s flame. The good memories, the bad ones, everything. Everything relies on your answer here. No. You rely on your answer here.

If he finds out what is inside your stomach, what you have done when you were free to do whatever you pleased, what would he do then?

Would he kill you? Kill the only part of Jalil you have left?

You cannot bring yourself to allow either of these things to happen.

You shake your head. No. No, you didn’t. You don’t want to forget the memory, but you don’t want to scream it from the rooftops either, especially if it means your life ends then and there.

Illumi liked that answer, you think. His kind smile was uncommon, but all things considered, you and Killua were the only ones he ever did smile at. 

“Good. That’s good. Final question,” You dodged a bullet with that last question. You don’t think it can get any worse, and it doesn’t. “Do you want to be a true Zoldyck?”

Not for the first time or the final time, you nod.

*~*~*~*

The sheets were as cold as Illumi’s skin, just as pale too. The curtains were already shut far before you were brought back – his room was untouched because he spent weeks looking for you, after all. Sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuckling his belt, Illumi is grinning. It feels unnatural, like a puppet who has gained sentience or a devil who is learning what it means to be human. His wide eyes were essentially crawling on you, looking everywhere he wouldn’t let anyone else see. 

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers.

The lights are off at your request.

Later, when you assume he is asleep, you take the pin off your discarded nightgown that is on the floor. The puncture wound blended in with the rest of your injuries well, and when enough blood was spilled on the mattress, you wiped off the excess under one of the pillowcases, one of the black ones you think. 

There.

You put a hand on your stomach. The baby shouldn’t be bigger than those little inch-long cat figurines you used to have in childhood, so everything should be fine.

You are now a Zoldyck too.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: The First Branch, Belle, Nice and Airy How Does a Moment Last Forever (music box), No Matter What,

art credit goes to Marbipa

this au is very heavily inspired from the 1991 movie, 2017 movie, and the musical, some things will seem similar and at times different, some parts of dialogue will be familiar, however it's for the sake of the plot. to summarize, this is basically a retelling of the story. I hope you guys enjoy!!

also let me know if you want to be on the taglist!!

<< prev. | ch.2 >>

Warnings: brief mention of character death, slight misogyny

word count: 1.9K

summary: life as the inventor's daughter

Chapter 1 : The Village

In a small province, east of the castle, there was a small village called Arachna,

This village is quite unique on its own as there are many people of different personalities, Men go to work and get an education and the women stay at home to learn how to be housewives and tend for children. Reading was considered wrong for women to read…Men didn’t want them to develop ideas or think for themselves and only solely focus on the children… However…At the edge of the village, at a small house lived an old inventor, he knew how to fix clocks, create music boxes, and most importantly invent. He would slave the day away just tinkering and figuring out new ideas on how to make life more comfortable and convenient, he proposed his ideas constantly to the villagers to help them make their lives a bit easier, but alas…the villagers called him a loon and demented for frivolous ideas. He would go home dejected, but his greatest pride and most precious invention would be at home; Y/N…

He had raised y/n all on his own after his wife passed away when y/n was 5. To his precious daughter, He promised himself that he wouldn’t shun her from her curiosity and instead showed her all there is to know. Y/N learned how to read, write, speak, analyze, and even sing a little, all due to her father’s promise that he made to her dying mother and to his daughter. Eventually, Y/N grew to be a lovely and beautiful woman. She’s kind, compassionate, loving, and even imaginative. She even has a huge affinity for reading and especially having a bit of a collection of books at home. 

You may wonder, what is Y/N’s life like at her village

well it goes a bit like this…

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A rooster crows in the distance, as the sun rises, signifying the day to begin..

Y/N has woken up and looked at her book beside her bedside table and smiles “well now...time to return this to the bookstore” she says softly to herself. She opens her curtains and opens the window, smelling the morning dew from the fresh air. Y/N gets dressed in her favorite blue dress, tying her hair in a low ponytail with a ribbon and walks downstairs to cook some breakfast for herself before leaving. She puts her book in a little basket and walks out and heads for the village. “Any moment now…before I hear-” she gets interrupted by the waking village “BUENOS DIAS MI GENTE” 

Y/N rolls her eyes as she sees the empty streets quickly fill up with people with errands and work to do. She smells fresh wheat from the bakery, and she smiles as she thinks how the baker always sells his bread right on time. “Ah, Buenos Dias Y/N” the baker says. “Oh Buenos Dias, señor”, The Baker looks at her and smiles and asks, “where are you off to?” Y/N smiling and excited to tell him says “Oh I’m going to the bookstore! I just finished reading this amazing story about an ogre, a donkey, and a cursed princess-” she gets interrupted “oh that’s nice. OYE MARIA, LOS BOLILLOS” he ends up yelling to his wife in the bakery. Y/N shrugs and moves along her day.

The villagers see her and start whispering amongst themselves, they gossiped about how she would always read, always having her nose stuck in a book.However, they could all mutually agree that despite her odd personality, she’s truly a sight for sore eyes, a truly beautiful woman who sadly knows how to think. 

Y/N arrives at the bookstore and opens the door, the bell on top of the door chiming, announcing her arrival. “Buenos Días señor ! vine a devolver el libro que me prestaron” she says handing the book back to the salesclerk with much care. The salesclerk laughs “ Already? Y/N my dear, it's only been since yesterday.” Y/N who was already on the ladder searching for another book looked down at him sheepishly “yea, well I couldn’t exactly put it down…” Her hand lands on a familiar blue book, she pulls it out of the bookshelf and hands it to the salesclerk “I’ll borrow this one !” The salesclerk looks at the title of the book and shakes his head, amused by her antics “you’ve read this book almost 2 times already, are you sure you want this book again ?” he says, while helping Y/N down the ladder. “Well I can’t help it, faraway places, tense sword fights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise” 

The salesclerk chuckles and hands her the book “well if you like it so much it’s yours...” Y/N holds the book in her hands in excitement “I-I… are you sure?” she asks hesitantly. “I insist, please take it” he tells her. “Well then thank you, thank you so much!” Y/N leaves the bookstore happily, immediately opening to the first page.

While Y/N is in the distance walking with her new book, next to a tavern there is a strong, tall, blone, handsome brute of a man, checking himself out in the mirror, making sure that his looks are impeccable. “BEN! I caught your uhh…whatever this bird is, oh and some girls told me to tell you you’re an amazing hunter” says a shorter looking pudgy man to him.

“Why thank you Eddie for reminding me how perfect I am,” Ben says. Eddie nods as he pretends to agree with his own statement. “I bet that not even a beast or girl can handle you,” he says, feeding the man’s ego. Ben looks down at Eddie and grins “oh and that’s true as well, but my next hunt is that one over there” he says pointing at Y/N. Eddie looks at him a bit appalled and says, “the inventor’s daughter?” Ben then inhales and goes on a tangent “Why yes, Eddie…she’s the one I’m going to marry, the most beautiful girl in town. As soon as I met her, I knew that I have to make her my wife, a handsome man like me and a gorgeous woman like her are meant to be together” Eddie agrees with him reluctantly as he sees Venom speed walk to catch up with her.

Ben goes through a bustling market in order to reach Y/N who is easing her way through the crowd despite reading a book. “Please let me through” he said exasperated, not wanting to let Y/N out of his sight. Eventually he does finally reach her by climbing the roof of a house and landing right on his feet like the man he is. “Hello, Y/N” he says as his eyes scan her from head to toe. “Hola, Ben” she says in response while still focusing on her book. ben then smirks and quickly takes the book away from her hands to get her attention. 

“Ben, por favor give back my book” she says politely. Ben ignores her by butting in her way and flipping the pages in the book “How do you read this… there’s no pictures…” 

“Well if you read books then you would know that some people have something called an imagination” 

Ben looks at her and throws the book somewhere as he tries to charm her “well Y/N, I believe it's finally time for you to stop reading books and pay attention to more…attractive things, like me” he says. “The whole town talks about it. It’s not proper for women to read...besides women thinking means they develop ideas and start assuming things” he says with a bit of a grimace on his face. 

“Ay, Ben you’re so antediluvian.”

Y/N then reaches down to pick up her book and wipes the dirt off with a handkerchief. She turns around to keep on going back home but is stopped by Ben yet again as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, mentioning how she should join him at the tavern so that they could talk and bond. “Oh, but I can't. I have to go help my father, goodbye now” she says, as she walks away as fast as her feet can take her away from the brainless man.

A few minutes later after speed walking, Y/N sees smoke coming out of the basement and rushes there quickly. “PAPA!” She opens the basement door to let out the smoke and searches for her father “ay papa, que paso? estas bien?” she asks as she helps him get up from the floor “Ay Hijita, I'm fine... I just can’t get this piece of metal to start working” Y/N chuckles and kisses her father’s forehead “papa you always say that when you’re frustrated… Besides, if you get this to work… you can finally go to the contest and win that prize you’ve always wanted.”

Her father thinks for a while and nods “ you’re right…i shouldn’t give up, i’ll get a patent on this and i’ll finally be Mauricio, the greatest inventor ever seen!” Y/N smiles and hugs her father before leaving to let him finish his invention. “Oh right, papa did you…” she looks at him with a knowing look “yes I did mijita, it's upstairs at the kitchen table.” Y/N nods and dashes up inside the house and speeds to the kitchen. She stops when she looks at the table and smiles fondly. It was her mother’s old music box…now fixed after so many years…

Y/N sits by the table and winds up the music box and hums along to the melody being played remembering the lullaby her father used to sing to her before going to sleep as a child. She then looks up and sees her father smiling at her, enjoying the melody as well. “Papa…do you think i'm..odd ?” she says softly to him. Her father raises an eyebrow and sits beside her “y a donde sacaste eso??”

“People talk papa…” she says looking to the side. “Solecito…they talk about me too, we’re not odd at all…” He brings his hand to her shoulder to console her “you’re my daughter…and you’re mother’s daughter as well, They’re the common people and you…you’re unique Hija. No matter what you do I’m always on your side ok?” Y/N smiles and chuckles “are you sure that’s just not you being biased?” Her father laughs and shrugs “Maybe…maybe not…don’t ever change who you are, ok?” Y/N smiles and nods “ok papa” A few days later, Y/N’s father was finished with his invention and had prepared the wagon, placing some food, medicine, horse fodder, and his invention all neatly placed inside the wagon. As he adds the saddle onto Felipe’s back, placing the reins properly on the horse’s side. He then looks at Y/N and smiles “Hijita…what do you wish for me to bring back for you? Shall it be jewelry, or dresses, or new perfumes?” Y/N thinks for a minute and says, “A rose, like the one mama had embroidered on her dress” He chuckles “But, you ask for that every year. Y/N smiles as she looks at her father “and yet every year you’ll bring it...” “Fine then, you’ll have my word, adios por ahora y/n” he says as he gently caresses his daughter’s cheek. “Adios Papa...” Y/N would watch her father ride up the hill into the distance. 

“Stay Safe...”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Art of Persistence

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After a long day, you return home to the comfort of your two favorite boys.

warnings: swearing, brief misogyny, Frank being adorable

a/n: For the lovely @zomtart who wanted to see something with Frank and a dog! As always, reblogs and comments fuel my writing!

w/c: 2.1k

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.” Albert Ellis

Walking through the doors into the bakery, your heart sank. It was going to be a long day, you could smell it on the air. The humidity seeping through the cracks in the doors had made the atmosphere purgatorial. You could feel the heat clouding around you, the air laden with moisture only made stickier by the ovens inside. Blowing a frustrated breath out of your nose, you gave a pleasant nod to your manager as she slunk past you towards her office.

“Good morning to you too,” You muttered, stalking into the back to set down your bag.

You were rapidly approaching your breaking point. Each inhale flooded your senses with the aroma of toasted sesame and melted butter--the combination turning sour after a week of beligerent customers and stressful shifts. If you didn't need the money, you'd have called out. Unfortunately, those precious wages and tips were keeping you afloat right now.

Tossing a thin canvas string over your neck, you secured the flashy red apron around your waist with a tight knot, not minding the line of pain that encircled you as you yanked at the ends. Pinning your worn name tag to your chest, you spun on your heel and headed for the counter.

Today was a new day. It would be busy, Mondays always were, but that didn't mean it would be bad. Right..?

Lamentably, by the time the morning rush had ended and you were finally able to slip into the break room for a moment away from the chaos, you were confident today would be the same as every other day. In a period of three hours, it had all gone to shit. Two of your coworkers had called out, throwing you and the one other reliable employee to the wolves. One particularly aggressive customer had thrown a cup of scalding coffee at you—claiming it was burnt after the tiniest sip you’d ever seen. And, the cherry on top of the crappy day you were having, you'd burnt the shit out of your hand pulling a bagel out of the toaster for a family that wouldn't stop nagging you. Fuck your well-being, they had places to go.

The circulation to your legs was slowly being cut off by the tourniquet you'd accidentally tied your waist in, but you couldn't be bothered to fix it. Staring wearily at your bandaged hand your body trembled with fatigue, discomfort, and residual adrenaline. Pulling out your phone, you positioned it in your good hand, selecting the proper contact and crossing your fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, please—

“Hey doll, did you need somethin'?” Frank's gruff voice crackled over the line, relief crashing over you as it did. Your body sagged at the question, the idea that you weren't handling it all alone.

“Um, yah, I was wondering if you could take Wes out for me? A handful of people didn't come in so I'm stuck working a shift and a half.” You nibbled at the skin on your bottom lip, hoping Frank wouldn't be annoyed that you asked him to care for your dog again this week.

You'd gotten Wesley as a puppy about a year ago, after a friend found him and his siblings abandoned in a nearby park. He was the last to be adopted, but you just couldn't deny his sweet little face. Unsurprisingly, the pair of you got along swimmingly.

The only problem arose at times like these, when your manager demanded that you stay past your scheduled end time to fulfill someone else's obligations. Wes was a good boy, but he could only hold out for so long without needing to pee or expend some energy. When you weren't there to play fetch or run around the block, you often turned to your partner for help.

You knew Frank adored your rambunctious pup, but the thought of adding more to his plate for any reason always made you guilty. He was busy, he had his own life and job and shit to do. Wes was your responsibility. Frank hadn't signed up for this, nor was he being compensated for his time. You really needed to hire a dog walker or something, that just wasn't an option given your slim budget right now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. I’ll head to your place when I can. You know when you'll be home?” As always, Frank accepted the burden immediately, without so much as an irritated sigh. His readiness to care for you and your four-legged roommate never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Around 6, if I'm lucky. I know that's late—” You rubbed at the back of your neck, grimacing as your fingers were met with warm, clammy skin.

“Don't worry about that, doll, you ain't the reason for that.” Frank reasoned, his patience only fueling the flames of guilt swirling around you.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who could be at fault.” You laughed bitterly, swallowing the despair coating your tongue.

“No, you aren't.” Frank protested firmly. “Ain't your fault your boss wants you to stay, babydoll. You're just doin' whatcha can to stay employed. No shame in that.”

Your eyes fell closed as you let out a breath you hadn't meant to hold. Frank's response was tender, effortlessly caring, as if he was there rubbing your back and calming you down. Soothing your doubts with every syllable. He understood the pressure you were under and he never blamed you for it.

“Thank you.” You whispered, the longing you felt to be with him only intensifying as he comforted you from a distance.

“No need to thank me, honey. Just get home safe, yah?” The concerned edge that perpetually lined Frank's words tipped the corners of your lips into a smile.

“Ok.” You promised, bidding him goodbye.

The rest of your day slogged along like a fish attempting to swim through jello. Slow, awkward, and unbelievably messy. Each interaction corroded your dwindling social battery, wearing your patience thin. It took every fiber of your being to not scream right back at the customers as they demanded ridiculous things from you.

Oh your espresso isn’t coming fast enough? Why don’t you come around the counter and make it your damn self. 

Rolling your eyes at the annoyed tone of the customer begging for the drink, you pretended not to hear him as you steamed milk for another order. 

“Geez bitch, are you deaf?” 

You barely registered his muttered comment, but it struck you like a blade anyway. Fist clenching around his cup, your fingernails punctured the cheap, waxy paper, splattering the freshly brewed espresso over your work station. 

“Oh no!! I’m so sorry sir, I’ll make you a new one.” Shooting the fuming man your best try at an innocent, I’m-simply-so-ditsy smile, you tossed the ruined cup into a nearby trash can gracefully. With growing satisfaction, you took your sweet time restarting the beverage, hoping the asshole would burn his tongue the second you handed it over. 

Shoving the tiny cup across the counter, you cemented your beaming smile in place as the dude snatched it from your grip without a word. 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You muttered as he slammed the door on his way out. A glance to the clock quickly lifted your spirits. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the shift from hell would be over. You’d collect your tips and bolt before your supervisor asked for something else. 

Behind you, your next problem cleared their throat. Whipping around to face the uptight, blazer-clad woman, you raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?” 

Fumbling with the keys on your ring, your fingers hadn’t even lined the correct one up with the lock when the bolt thunked, the door sliding open. Standing on the other side of the frame, taking up most of your frame of vision with his broad stature, was Frank.

Tumbling into him, you groaned happily as his giant arms engulfed you, his stomach shaking with a brief laugh.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We both did.” Pulling back slightly, Frank jerked his head to the wiggling golden retriever who was barely containing his excitement a few paces away.

Squeezing through the door past your hulking boyfriend, you knelt before your ecstatic canine, opening your arms for him to clamber into. Hugging your dog as he wriggled and chirped happily wasn't easy, but it made your heart swell with adoration every time you tried.

The way your dog reacted when you came home from work was nothing less than an ego boost. Poor Wes could never seem to keep still, too overwhelmed with joy and love that his tail swished wildly, shaking his whole body. Once you were within kissing distance, Wesley was determined to slobber all over you, reminding you just how much he'd missed you while you were away. These moments made all the hardship worth it.

Crouching behind you, Frank's hand slid beneath your raised elbow to scratch at Wesley's back, crowding in until you were fully leaning against him. You exhaled, sinking into his chest as he tugged you impossibly closer. Trailing kisses down the side of your face towards your shoulder, Frank rumbled with a chuckle as your dog plopped over the pile of legs, rolling belly up with an open-mouthed smile.

“Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be the favorite.” Frank remarked, giving Wes a firm rub on his stomach.

“Well, I do feed him.” You snorted, scratching at your dog's ear. “Seems to be the key to both of your hearts.”

“Got that right,” Frank agreed, squeezing you tightly until you giggled. “Did your shift go ok?”

Puffing out a breath, you shrugged, turning your head so he could see your face. “Only got called a bitch once so, I'd say that's a win.”

Scoffing indignantly, Frank scowled. “Gimme a name, sweetheart.”

“Frank,” You groaned, not unhappily. “If I let the Punisher loose on every asshole that came through the shop, we'd have a massacre on your hands.”

“I'd do it anyway. They deserve it, treatin' service workers like that.” Frank grumbled, nuzzling your cheek.

Your hand slid up to the base of his scalp, twisting the edges of his hair in your fingers. “I appreciate it, handsome. But I'm ok, promise.”

“Did ya make good tips at least?” His question was genuine, his expression almost hopeful, but you barked a laugh anyways.

“Take a guess.” Your voice was bitter, thinking of all the ungrateful patrons you'd had in the last twelve hours.

“Hmm,” Frank pondered. “Twenty?”

“Fuck Frankie, I wish.” You rolled your eyes. “Two bucks.”

“You're shittin' me.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, I am telling the god's honest truth.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Two bucks. Fuckin' hell.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw as his anger roiled deep within. “I'm so sorry, doll.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You pouted, feelings of inadequacy mingling with the fear of being utterly stuck in this dead-end job. “I hate asking you to help with Wes every damn day. You deserve better.”

“Hey now, don't you go worryin your pretty little head about me,” Frank scolded gently. “You're the one who don't deserve to be treated this way.”

“Don't have much of a choice, do I?” You wondered aloud, shoulders curling in as you descended back into hopelessness. “I need this job.”

“Then you'll stick with it for now,” Frank proposed. “And I'll help ya find somethin' better in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that Frank,” You objected, letting him slip out from under you and offer you a hand up.

“I know I don't have to, darlin'. I want to.” Kissing your lips tenderly, Frank cupped your cheek as heat rushed to your face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, chest tightening with emotion.

“Anytime, gorgeous.” Frank winked at you, bringing a smile back to your face.

A piercing squeak caught your attention, drawing it towards the floor where an impatient Wesley displayed a plush toy you didn't recognize.

“Did you buy him a toy?” You asked Frank, knowing grin creeping over your face as the man blushed bright pink, shrugging one shoulder. Bending down, you tugged at the arm of the wooly sheep, pretending that you were grabbing it for yourself until Wesley ran off, squeaking it victoriously.

“Needed somethin' to do and he seemed bored, so we took a walk to the pet store on 45th.” The embarrassed man mumbled, rubbing at his nape and averting his gaze.

“Aw, Frankie,” Winding your arms back around Frank's tree trunk waist, you peppered kisses across his face. ”That's so sweet of you.“

“It's nothin', really,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“Sure, tough guy. It's nothin',” You smirked, clenching your arms one final time before gripping his hand. “Come sit, we can order dinner and play with Wes.”

Planting a firm kiss against your hairline, your scalp tickled as Frank smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @vsplanet @pigeonmama

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Gojo Satoru [epilogue]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, pregnancy talks

words: 3,6k

notes: so here is the epilogue of this short series that was a gif to everyone that started supporting my works on this app. Finally we close the story of Duke Gojo and angel. I hope everyone enjoys it 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

It had been 8 months since you and Satoru met again. And as soon as Satoru could walk again you got married, it had been a bigger wedding than you had ever imagined, after all Satoru was a duke and a close friend of the prince so it had been something normal. Thanks to the wedding you also learned that Satoru was not as hated as your parents had made you believe, in fact Satoru was extremely loved by everyone.

Regarding your parents, you know that they were stripped of their titles and all their property and sent, along with others, to a prison near the border. Satoru didn't want you to see them, apparently they had completely lost their minds and he didn't consider it safe for you.

Satoru asked you if you wanted to stay with your parents' house, and go there during the summers. But although you will love that landscape and the smell of that place, the memories of those walls were mostly painful.

But those memories had been locked in a box and kept far away. Now you were creating new memories in that place you called home. You had arrived at the Gojo residence in winter and for the first time you had admired the snow. And you also met Megumi, Satoru’s nephew. Although the relationship they both had was more of a father-son relationship, after all Satoru had adopted him and taken care of him since he was 4 years old.

In those 8 months you had managed to feel at home and feel that you belonged to the family. Rose kept telling you how happy you looked, how bright you were again. And you also felt it like that.

Satoru had kept all his promises, from a library that you could never imagine to a summer house where you could enjoy the sea breeze again.

Now summer was starting again and that only brought back memories of how last year you were on the beach reading and a boy with a mysterious smile and sharp gaze approached you. Without knowing very well that that meeting would change everything about you.

“What’s my beautiful wife doing?” You felt how Satoru left wet kisses on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring the view and thinking.” You looked at him with a shiny smile.

“Thinking about what, my love?” He looked at you with the most loving expression.

“About us, about everything that has happened in the last year and how lucky I am.” You kissed him.

“I think I’m the one who is lucky.” He said.

Satoru began to kiss your neck, closing your eyes and pushed your neck back, giving him more space so he could devour you. You could spend years, but you would still be addicted to his kisses and his caresses.

“You know this white dress you are wearing today is driving me crazy.” He said, biting your ear.

“I thought it was cute for our getaway today.” You purred with a smile on your lips.

“Oh definitely it’s cute.” He smiled. “But I bet you look cuter without it.”

You could listen to Satoru say provocative things a thousand and one times and never get used to it. Despite the time, you continued getting nervous and blushing like the first time.

“Satoru…” You put your hand on his chest, feeling his buildup muscles under your hand. “We are on the beach.”

“That makes it even more exciting.” He smirked. “But no one will come, you know that.”

“You can't be satisfied, can you?”

“I will never get enough of you, my angel.” He says, before devouring your mouth again.

Satoru laid you down on the cloth that you had brought to sit on the sand and left a trail of kisses until he reached the cloth that separates your breasts from his lips. With a wicked smile on Satoru's face, he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it down, exposing your breasts to his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispered before introducing your nipple into his mouth and beginning to devour it only as he knew how.

Your back arched and your hands went straight to his hair, where they became tangled in the white hair. With each suck you felt your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You desperately needed Satoru inside of you.

“Satoru…” You moaned. “I need you.”

Satoru separated from you and smiled when he saw your state, disheveled, swollen lips, your nipples completely red and with your legs open, inviting him to enter. Taking off his belt and pulling down his pants, you felt your body react as his cock emerged from his underwear. It was hard, you could see it, very hard.

Satoru lifted your dress and yanked your underwear off, leaving you completely exposed to him. With his hand on his cock, he placed it at your entrance and with a grunt he entered you.

You purred as you felt Satoru fill you and begin to thrust into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and becoming one with each other.

His warm touch made you melt under his touch. Not only that, you become more desperate for more, wanting all of him to fill you, to kiss you, to adore you with passion. And you could see his hungry eyes, his frenetic pulse and desperate touch. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The shockwaves that ran through your body, made tears of pleasure run down your cheeks and inevitably made moans escape from your throat. Which luckily for you were silenced by the noise of the waves crashing against the coast.

Satoru growled your name with each thrust, his voice rough and full of intensity. The sound sent shivers down your spine, a mix of pleasure and anticipation washing over you. His hands, large and possessive, dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving marks you would probably see the next day.

Every movement was deliberate and powerful, the rhythm relentless and intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you, his almost desperate grip on you.

Your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations, each one more intense than the last.

Satoru's eyes met yours, his gaze was filled with hunger and that turned you on even more. His breathing became labored, you knew you were both close, you could feel it by the way he was throbbing inside you and the way your body was reacting.

Satoru spoke your name desperately with each of his thrusts, the way he said your name made your heart race even faster, and your breathing quickened with every movement.

His hands grabbed your hips with a possessive intensity, anchoring you against the sand that was under that fabric.

“Satoru.” You breathed, your voice shaking with the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing your cries with a searing kiss that left you both breathless.

The desperation in his thrusts grew, each one more urgent and insistent than the last. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving marks.

You could feel the spiral of pleasure tightening inside you, his every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His name was a song on your lips, a plea and a prayer.

When your climax finally hit you, it was like a wave crashing over you, sweeping you away in a torrent of bliss. Your cries of ecstasy mixed with Satoru's guttural moans as he followed you to the edge, his release a powerful, consuming force.

Panting and trembling, they held each other, the aftershocks of their passion still coursing through their bodies.

Your chest rose and fell as you felt Satoru fill you. After a few seconds, Satoru pulled out of you and lay down next to you.

“Stop taking that medicine.” You said, still feeling your voice shaky and your body trembling.

Satoru turned to look at you confused. “What?”

You sighed and adjusted your dress back to how it was. “I heard you, with the doctor.” Satoru sat down. “I know you have been taking that medicine to prevent me from getting pregnant. And I know you did it because I was weak when we got married.” You said. “But ever since coming here, I gained weight and got healthier. Satoru, I want us to have a bigger family.”

“Angel…” He held your hand.

“Megumi has been asking me for a sibling you know?” You smiled. “And I really want it.”

“Megumi has said that?”

You nodded happily. “I want Megumi to have a little brother or sister. Don’t you?”

“I…” Satoru sighed and then looked back at you. “Yeah of course I would love that, but… you know how risky pregnancies can be.” Satoru’s eyes reflected concern, agony and fear. “What if…”

“Satoru.” You tried to calm him down. “I know the risks and I know what could happen but I think I’m ready.” You smiled.

Satoru sighed. “We will talk with the doctor and we will see, alright?”

You nodded and hugged him. “I love you.”

He chuckled and smiled back. “I love you too.”

You both hugged each other until the sun started to set down and the temperature of the day started to go down. Satoru picked you up bridal style and between laughter and soft kisses he carried you to the horse to return home. It sounded good, home.

It filled your heart with a warmth that you didn't know you could feel and a longing to return that you had never experienced. Normally you would extend your readings on the beach until the last ray of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to shine.

But at the Gojo residence, when you had to go out to attend to matters like the Duchess you were, you returned home with Satoru, with Megumi, who you could say had become almost like your own son, with Rose, Nanami and the household employees, who had given you affection and love from the first moment.

Entering the large hall you were greeted by several of the employees, including Rose, who had had a special glow for some time and you both knew what it meant.

“Ask the doctor to come tomorrow.” You heard Satoru speak.

“Duchess.” Rose bowed, you were still not used to that title and it still felt weird.

“Rose.” You smiled. “Did Megumi have his dinner?”

She shook her head. “He is waiting for both of you to have dinner together.”

You looked over to Satoru and this one smiled at you. “Let’s have dinner.” He held your hand.

You both walked to the dining room where you found Megumi concentrating on reading a book. Satoru looked at you and you gave him a warm smile.

“Gumi.” You called out to him and he quickly looked up from him to look at you both.

“Mom.” He put the book aside and ran over to you to hug your legs.

You still weren't used to Megumi calling you mom, the first time she said it you were completely paralyzed, not knowing how to respond or act, Megumi noticed that and regretted it but you told him that he did want to call you mom and then you would be very happy. And since then he had called you mom. On the other hand, Satoru was offended, since for years he had been trying to get Megumi to stop calling him simply Gojo, but the little boy didn't want to.

“I’m still offended that you don’t even call me uncle.” Satoru murmured.

You chuckled looking at Megumi. “Just give him time, right Gumi?” Megumi simply hide his face on your dress.

“A little bird told me that you want a brother or sister. But that won’t happen until you call me uncle.” Satoru challenged him and Megumi turned his face away from your dress and looked at him offended.

“Not fair.” He said.

“It is not.” Satoru smirked. “You just have to call me from now on uncle and you might have a sibling.”

“Satoru… you can not do that.” You said to him.

“Why not?” He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“He is a kid, give him time.” You said.

“Dad…”

“Yeah but why call me Gojo when…” Satoru paused and looked at Megumi. “What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.” Megumi walked away.

“Angel, did he just?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him and noticed how Satoru was getting emotional. “Satoru…”

“Sorry, I just.” He shook his head. “I love you Gumi.” He shouted.

Megumi didn’t turn to look at him or say anything, but you knew that he was just embarrassed. Megumi opened out at you a few days after calling you mom from the first time about how he wanted to call Satoru dad but he was beyond embarrassed to do it. You found that heartwarming and adorable and seeing how they both reacted filled your heart with happiness and love.

The evening passed quickly between laughter, light conversations and Satoru's jokes and Megumi's protests for Satoru to leave him alone. You knew Satoru wasn't going to let go of the fact that Megumi called him dad and you felt a little sorry for him but it was fun to see his pout. Those new memories that you were creating with those new people that you didn't know a year ago filled your entire heart.

The next day the light passed through the curtains of your room, making you open your eyes to find the bed empty and the sheets cold, indicating that Satoru had woken up long before you. With your hips a little sore after your sex session last night, you got up to get ready to meet the doctor on that sunny morning with clear skies. Rose, like every morning I come into your room and help you.

Once ready, you left your bedroom and began to walk through the Gojo family's large house, still not getting used to all the wealth that you saw when you walked through the wide hallways, with their high ceilings and walls covered in ancestral portraits. .

Approaching the entrance you watched as Satoru walked near the large windows, his expression was a mix of concern and determination. Approaching him, you held his hand and gave him a comforting look, seeking for his agitated soul to relax under your touch.

The heavy entrance doors creaked open and the family doctor entered, whose presence attracted attention. Dr. Stone was a middle-aged man, with a kind but serious demeanor.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo.” Dr. Stone greeted with a respectful nod. His voice was calm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. “I trust you're both okay.”

“Good morning, Dr. Stone.” Satoru responded, his voice was firm despite the tension. “Thanks for coming.”

Walking down a hallway, the three of you entered an office where you could have a more private conversation. The doctor sat across from you, opened his case, and arranged his instruments with practiced precision. “So what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

You both looked at each other and Satoru took a breath. “We want to try to have a child.” You squeezed his hand. “And we wanted to know if my wife, well, if she doesn't run any significant risk by getting pregnant.”

Dr. Stone nodded and began his examination with a gentle, professional touch. After a few minutes he looked at you both and smiled. “There are certain risks, though.” He said he. “With careful monitoring and appropriate measures, I believe a successful pregnancy is within reach. It will require diligence and caution, but I am confident we can manage any complications that may arise.”

Satoru, who had been watching intently, let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. “Thank you, Dr. Stone.” He said with relief. “We appreciate his guidance and support.”

The doctor agreed, with an expression of understanding and empathy. “It is my duty and honor to serve this family. We will proceed with care.”

With a final bow, the doctor departs, leaving you and Satoru to digest the information. The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the heat of the sun.

“Satoru...” You whispered looking at his expression.

But all the doubts you might have dissipated when you saw how Satoru smiled widely at you. "We could start now, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes. “Always so needy”

Satoru's eyes, electric and searing, met yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He closed the distance between you in the blink of an eye, and taking hold of your face, he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His lips were insistent, full of desire and passion, wanting to claim your lips as his alone.

The kiss deepened, your tongues tangled in a heated dance, each moment fanning the flames of desire and igniting something fervent inside you. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body seeping through the layers of your spring dress. You could feel the hard lines of his muscles, his need for you as palpable as yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru's hands began to work on the zippers of your dress. The fabric gave way under his skillful fingers, sliding down your shoulders until it reached your waist. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down your spine as he collided with your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his touch as he explored your skin.

With a grunt, Satoru pushed aside the objects cluttering the desk. His strength and urgency left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as he lifted you off the desk.

You moaned softly as his lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roamed your body, hiking up your dress until he bunched around your waist, exposing your legs. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure through you, your body arching against his in an invitation for him to continue.

Satoru's fingers found the hem of your underwear, teasing the delicate fabric before sending it somewhere in the room. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his back as you writhed in pleasure, each touch bringing you closer to the edge.

With a final, desperate kiss, Satoru pulled away just enough to throw off his own clothes. Seeing him, naked and magnificent before you, made your heart skip a beat. He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you, his eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity.

“You ready?” He whispered, full of need.

You could only nod, your breathing ragged as anticipation tightened within you. Satoru's lips captured yours in a searing kiss as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, an avalanche of pleasure that made you arch against him, your moans mixing with his moans of satisfaction.

He set a rhythm that was both tender and demanding, each movement taking you higher, the friction of his body against yours igniting sparks of ecstasy. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over you. His name was a breathless plea on your lips, a mantra of desire and need.

“Oh my lovely angel.” He said against your ear. “Can’t wait to fill you up with my baby.” You moaned loudly feeling how he grew bigger inside of you.

“Satoru.” Your body moved closer to him, wanting to be touch.

“So needy, my baby.” He said. “You want that right?” You bite your lips as he started to bite the skin of your neck. “You want me to put a baby in you huh?”

“Yes!” You moaned. “Satoru!”

Satoru's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. With one last thrust your back arched and you felt Satoru come completely inside you. The room that just a few minutes ago had been filled with the sound of your voices agonizing from pleasure and your skin colliding, had now been plunged into a sea of ​​silence that was only interrupted by the soft sound of your breaths mixing, while you searched for it to return to normal.

“You know I love you?” He whispered against your now sweaty skin.

You smiled and touched his hair with love. “And I love you too.” You kissed his hair. “Thank you…”

“For what?” He looked at you with his eyes full of curiosity.

“For that day, for coming to me while reading and making me fall in love with you, for everything Satoru.” You smiled.

He shook his head and cupped your face with cherish and love. “I should be the one thanking you angel.” He smiled. “You don’t know how you change my life. I love you so much.”

And both of your lips connected in a sweet kiss full of love, understanding and commitment for one another. You were grateful for going out that day to read on the beach, for looking at those blue eyes, for going out to the back garden despite the warnings, for your heart, your body and your soul reacting to him. You were grateful that man was yours and you were hers.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Extra scene

You watched as Satoru whipped his tears away and Megumi looked at him with a weird expression, you wanted to laugh about the scene but your body was too exhausted to make a single movement, even for a simple laugh.

“You are going to scare her with that face.” Megumi said.

Satoru, still crying, shook his head. “Gumi, I can't help it. Look at your sister, she is so small.”

Megumi looked at her and nodded in agreement. “She is cute. Thankfully she looks like mom and not you.”

Satoru gasped offended and looked at you. “Did you hear that?” You hummed in response and Satoru walked towards you. “How are you feeling, my angel?” He sat down next to you.

“A bit tired.” You smiled. “But… she is finally here with us.”

“She is.” Satoru looked over to where your newborn baby girl was. “You did a great job.” He held your hand. “Thank you.”

Heavily you approached him and kissed him. “Thanks to you Satoru. I love you."

Satoru smiled. “How lucky I am that a woman as amazing as you wants to spend the rest of her life with me. I love you too my angel.” He whispered and kissed you again.

The kiss was interrupted by some small cries and you both smiled, realizing the new stage that awaited you.

Final note: thank you for the love and support ❤️ I have another Gojo fic called Birdie if you want to check it out, also a new Geto fic called The forgotten boy

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout @storacy

[ryuzakemo128]

Who eats alone, dies alone.

Pairing: Poly141 x Outlaw! Female Reader Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not eat, kidnapping, murder, cheating, affairs, coercion to get sex and a 'family', reader is bisexual, tall and plus sized, misogyny, violence against women, violence, and other things that will make your stomach turn. Don't read if you're squeamish. word Count: 3074

Masterlist

Credit 4 Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

You weren’t a small.

You were tall.

You were never considered a pretty little young thing like the women you envied around you. The anger at your circumstances, at yourself, burned inside you like a furnace and the only thing to fuel your wrath was bloodshed.

You're useless, aren’t you if you can’t be like the surrounding women?

What use is your existence if you're scaring people away?

Your charm lured in a victim for your boss. But you didn’t care.

Your boss being a pretty young blonde with enough money to make the oil barons wish she was their wife.

You shot three people in order to get to your target, you didn’t even look at them.

The gun felt light in your hands, the three bodies dropped pretty quickly. 

“Get in.” you ordered. Slamming the carriage door after getting in with him to deter from leaving. You pointed the gun in his direction, “I would hate for someone to get the wrong idea that we’re together.” you spoke in a low husky tone. The smell of his fear drifting to your nose. You might be enjoying this a little too much. Might.

You brought out the handcuffs and snapped them wright on his wrists. Your gloved fingers making sure he can’t simply run away without look too suspicious. 

Ghost called out to Price whom was shooting at the caravan as it rode off into the dirt and dust. They got there far too late. Like they always do. Too late to make any kind of real proper change. 

As soap looked around the medium-sized carriage for an escape route, “Sweetheart, Sugar, darlin. You’re goin no where. You’re stayin on that sweet arse of yours and accepting how things are for time bein.”  You whispered into his ear. 

“I don’t want this to become permanent. So I suggest you compose yourself. A lovely woman will make sure you’re well-fed and cared for. And you’ll be thankin the good lord for everything she is.” you winked at him. Right as the carriage bumped and jostled around along the uneven terrain. 

Price saw you in person the following week with information on a new target. The one who took Johnny MacTavish. The same women who killed three men without a single sign of remorse in her eyes. 

Finding none made his stomach drop.

His heart beats faster now. 

He knew you. The woman kicked out from the church his parents always went to on a Sunday morning. He remembered how a man kicked you in the stomach until you coughed up blood from the blunt force to your stomach. Always kicking himself for never standing up for you. 

Had he known you were forced to take this path alone, then. What would he have done? 

Your mother eventually passed from a cancer which ate at her mind as well as her soul. Your father cheating on her with the maids inside your manor. He thought his amassed wealth would grant him a front row seat straight into heaven by the time he died. Not that he have ever personally read the actual thing himself. He knew a few proverbs and apparently it’s all he ‘needed’. To your poor mother’s dismay, who had actually read it in her youth.

Your eyes looked into his, a wall of steel and stone standing before him. Unlike the woman who was beaten by men just because she couldn’t control her sexuality. The faint scar along the left side of your jawline, a memory and a reminder that men could never be trusted.

Why did you take Soap so aggressively? So much show of power from someone in a short amount of time. It was like you were begging to be shot down. 

But Price knew better than to take a book by its cover. He’s seen the same look in your eyes as the men he had taken to be his lovers years ago. The look of someone who had seen too much, felt too much pain, and was now numb to the world around them. Someone who could endure any amount of pain or punishment and keep coming back for more.

Price still speaks to your father. Not that he would admit this to your face. ‘A monster by association’ you would call him. Not like you would be completely wrong. But you wouldn’t be right at the same time. Though he knew you wouldn’t care for the complexities or details. 

They’ve seen your type, your kind and your brood before. Thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. Thrown to the curb like you weren’t worth a damn thing. Not like you shown it on your face how much it bothered you. Not like you could get in somebody’s face and scream at them before. Not like you can now.

You never felt so free in your life. 

A pity, things came to a head this way.

He didn’t want you dead. He wanted you to bring MacTavish back to them. But it was certainly clear you weren’t going to do to just that. Not like you could defy your boss’s orders in the way he desired you to. If you did, you would be on the streets again, and who was he to tell you to leave a home you found on your own? 

Maddening to be sure. To be stuck between a rock and a hard place. You were making your own way to support yourself, your own way to bend the world to your own image and your own liking. Crafting it to your own whims and desires, like you enjoyed the thought of playing god to serve yourself alone.

Price had to regroup to the others. Before things got messy like it had last time. Three dead in the attempt to blockade you. Like a ram, you barrelled through like they weren’t worth a damn thing. Ruthless in your loyal servitude. A pity. It should have been him you were serving instead.

To have you bent over. 

What a sight that would be. 

But he knew your boss. The dinner party he’s invited to indicate as such. 

Hoping he would be able to sneak Johnny out of there. While she played hostess to her dinner guests with a fake smile. One which never seemed to reach her eyes. A plastered, well-rehearsed smile which looked haunting if you knew sadistic ways. There wasn’t much he could do for him from this far away. 

If you were there? It would be borderline impossible to get him out of that estate. No matter what. He couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“If she’s there, we won’t be able to get him back, Kyle.” price protested, waving at the naive man’s suggestion. “She’s like a dog with a bone, relentless, tenacious, a loyal bloodhound. And I don’t think it’s the money keeping her loyal, either.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t loyal to her for the money alone, were you? The money made things easier to swallow. Easy to deal with the eccentric nature of her whims of her sexual drive. You couldn’t be bothered to argue with the semantics of why you worked for her. The captives didn’t need to know. Anyone outside wouldn’t understand either.

Not in the ways you would have hoped to get. You would repent later. Repent tomorrow. But tomorrow is always one day away, and you were allergic to the thought of confession. To be brought to your knees because of something as fickle as truth. To escape the wooden pressures of the crucifix and sermons spoken from inside their little chapels won’t touch you again. 

Not while you still live and breathe. 

You were in the hands of a powerful woman married to an oil baron who was away for months at a time. Known for his thing for bringing in young mistresses to breed like some kind of rabid dog. You ignored how some woman would be paid to live there with his wife. Normally as well paid maids and servants. What better way to keep your marriage and the women you found attractive all in one place? 

According to him, it didn’t sound nearly as insane as his wife’s sadistic streak of kidnapping young men from the streets to play with as her one-way lovers. A way to cope with the sadistic desires from his wife, or did he enjoy it too much to take much of an issue with her actions? Who knew. As far as everyone else is concerned. Those men disappeared from the face of the earth.

Gone. Never to found again. Not even their loved ones ever knew what happened to them. But you did. Some of them died trying to escape. Mauled by vicious guard dogs on their front lawn or starved. 

You still remember when your boss spanked you hard enough to make cum like crazy. Not that you could ever explore that side of you. Not like you ever could. Not with the parents you have. “Call me mummy.” she’d hiss into your ear as she’d finger your clit. Masterfully. 

She knew your secret. The kind which could get you killed if the right kind of people knew about it. It’s how she kept you in check. The strangle hold on you was real. Even as Soap was forced to watch the same night, he was brought in to her estate. 

A bisexual woman of your standing? You wouldn’t last a week by yourself. You didn’t want them to that secret. The other being shunned by the church you used to attend with your parents. The church disowned you and threatened your parents to urge them to do the same. When your parents refused because they didn’t trust what the church tried to say.

With your mother dead.

Your father lost to himself with the lust of women and greed of the green dollar bills. 

Picking up a gun, learning how to shoot, learning how to intimidate, and learning to forgive yourself for hurting so damn much. 

You were finally good at something.

Scared men paid more. Scared men didn’t argue. And scared men didn’t survive.

Those who crossed you wished they never saw you. Those who survived knew what kind of monster lurked beneath your eyes. 

The most dangerous thing someone could be is a dangerous woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And you played up your dangerous look, and attitude to the absolute maximum. Unhinged in the ways you felt alive. Unhinged in ways men would be praised for. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked every bit of the part of a dangerous gun slinging outlaw you made yourself into. Like you always wanted to be. Like you are meant to be. 

A cold-heart gunslinger because otherwise you would have been dead years ago. How your trench coat bellowed and how your bandana remained firmly on the lower half of your face. Hiding your identity. Keeping others from trying to find you or tracking you down. Covering your mouth in the covers of darkness. Either way, it worked well for you.

The stallion you rode on while the carriage was getting repaired in the workshop just outside of town. The black horse, a symbol of your capabilities and tenacious spirit. The woman you served had the audacity to still call herself, ‘Lady of the Sapphire Manor’.

You weren’t like her. You were never like her. Never fed into someone’s desire for company like she did with you.

The same manor is technically yours by all rights and reason in terms of inheriting after your mother passed on. It was little to no wonder as to who should own that manor. 

Your father was the first person you murdered. Tied him up on a wooden chair in the backyard, stacking every portrait containing his likeness painted or printed onto them into a bonfire formation. Piling them up around him like a final act of self realisation. He was asleep until you poured that gasoline over him. 

The cold, biting, gasoline-soaked person who gave you life as Soap watched from the balcony in the second story of the manor. Soap saw you getting ready to murder your father in cold blood. This wasn't any old stranger you could emotionally detach yourself from. This was your bloodline.

You didn’t blink.

You didn’t flinch.

Looking over to the woman in the balcony for approval. Her approval. ‘It’s like she needs it, like she craves it, to be owned completely instead of wandering around and wondering if you’ll ever fit anywhere.’ Soap pondered watching this as he remained tied up in his wooden chair. 

The match flicked to the match box, the fire burning the match stick to the gasoline covered man. As his pleas for mercy were ignored, as his screams splitting the night sky as the flames licked his flesh until he was nothing but burned flesh and bone. The flames reflected in your eyes. It’s clear kidnapping, keeping people hostage, tormenting hostages weren’t enough anymore. 

You’re no longer satisfied with small amounts of murder, mayhem, chaos, and pain. You wanted Soap to see the real thing. To smell the burning flesh from people who were the real monsters in the world, and you wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw everything. 

He wasn’t like the rest. He didn’t belong in your world. Just like you didn’t belong in his. You have a part to play. You played it so well.

A monster. A terrible beast. Unloved and unlovable. You had to play the role of the monster to survive.

Soap found him high as a kite walking to his lovers without his pants on with only fifty dollars to his name. Pockets full of opium. No memory of how he got inside the manor. Plenty of memories of all the horrors lying inside the depth of Sapphire Manor. Inflicted by you for the amusement of ‘The Lady’. 

“We’re dead price. DEAD long before we knew she existed. You don’t see it. You’ll never see it. I have seen it. We’re dead.” his nonsenual muttering as Soap gripped his face, rocking him side to side like they were in some kind of long term hospice centre on giant wheels. Too afraid to stop moving in the case, he heard the screams of the man he watched burn to death come back. 

“She killed her father Price. She turned him into a human bonfire and watched him burn.” Soap continued to blabber on and on. 

This all happened in a matter of four days and five nights. Breaking him until he couldn’t trust what he saw in the dark. Always checking to see if you were standing in the darkness. Checking outside his window every five minutes, sometimes hallucinating you were standing outside. 

You were never physically there. You haven’t been since you left him in the middle of town to walk home alone. Likewise, you weren’t a babysitter and you got what you wanted from him. An excuse to get more from your boss. A pay raise. 

Torture isn’t a one shoe fits all scenario. It is usually tailored to the individual targeted. But somehow your methods were brutal enough to break every man The Lady held within Sapphire Manor. The letter you had left in his pants that you gave through the mail slot. 

‘The lady holds no interest in a man who's lost his wits, Soap. Perhaps it's time for you to leave us. I return you to your ‘family’ what ever that is. Lest this be a reminder to keep your nose out of her opium business and shove off elsewhere. 

You turned him into a broken man. Like you have done so many times before with so many other men. A master of torture. A musician in the realm of pain, fear, and madness. You weave it well. You play with it like an artist who poked and prodded, working with your clay. Moulding people over and over. Swimming in the sea of your seemingly eternal madness. 

Taxidermy people sitting in various rooms, permanently frozen in their state of distress, stuffed and poised like hunters did with their animal trophies. Redesigned, redressed and posed in ways you wanted them to look. Another thing, The Lady took pride in her home. People would assume they were fake and none the wiser. Unless they knew of the method of how they came to be. They will never know the gruesome side. 

Your methods of torture evolve after each ‘failure’ finding what works and what needed to be changed. The opium haze of your victims made them easier for them to ply the information from their lips, easier for you to manipulate. You weren’t always so good at this, your first attempts were clumsy and lacked finesse, but with each soul you crushed, each man you bent to her will, you grew more adept, more skilled, more terrifying.

When it came to dosing them with morphine on the second day? The effect of the morphine made them susceptible to suggestion, one tool of many you used to help get you what you wanted from them. You didn’t have to get to the actual torture if they gave you what you wanted. Gentle whispered promises to stop if they talked. 

Was it really so hard to imagine soap gave in so quickly?

 You didn’t even need to get your hands dirty with the actual torture. 

Who knew imagery of darkness, formed and sculpted by your own hand, was enough to break people? 

Price shouldn’t blame him from folding so quickly. If you call being stuck there for four days and five nights relatively quick. Which, in terms of torture? 

It was a record.

The only one who went mad in such a short time. A sick, twisted form of pride gurgled inside you. Chewing at the leftover rage you kept in the furnace called your brain. 

The Lady had eyes everywhere in her manor, and you were just one set of eyes under her service. A gatekeeper. The one who decided who kept their sanity or not. If they even got to see the light of day again, that is. 

What you are now? He wouldn’t have guessed you would have become. He would have called anyone mad for thinking this would have happened anyway. That you were doomed from the start.

[kurishiri]

20 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: written depiction of blood, near death experience (= suicide attempt), maybe vague misogyny? angst.

The next morning, I woke up to a familiar sense of unease.

(Wait, huh...?)

I was the only one on the bed.

To be fair, that was a given, as this was my room, but also for a reason beyond me, I couldn’t help but feel something was severely off.

(...I... I’m pretty sure I slept with someone yesterday... or that’s how it feels...)

(.........But, just who was that someone...?)

I racked my brain, but nobody came to mind — it was as though some haze was blocking the way.

Even as I looked at my body and around the bed, there was not even a single trace of anyone having been here in sight, with the bed so neat and clean.

But——

(This smell... what was it again...?)

The moment I started to move, a sweet fragrance wafted up my nose in passing.

(Just what is this... when I’m taking in this scent...)

[1] my heart feels painful.

[2] my body starts to throb.

[3] a flame lights in the depths of my heart. (+4 / +4)

(I really feel as though... a flame has lit itself in the depths of my heart.)

(I don’t even know what this is, and yet...)

It was a fragrance that resembled a flower soaked in the dew of night, one that could clear the mind and calm the heart——

...And I wanted that scent to wrap me in its gentle embrace, never to let me go.

—— Scene change; dining room ——

Kate: Good morning.

Roger: Hey, morning.

Roger was the only one sitting in the dining room.

Kate: Is everyone else out?

Roger: Yeah, Jude and Ellis got their usual jobs going on. And Liam and Harrison went to the cake shop together.

R: As for Victor and Will, they’re at the palace, and Elbie... well, he might be out cold somewhere around here, maybe.

Roger gave a general overview of everyone’s whereabouts as he bit into his bread.

Kate: Oh, and thank you for yesterday.

Roger: No need, I was also able to make some good progress with my research too. It’s like a give and take situation, yeah?

R: Besides that, are you doing okay? You were looking pretty pale yesterday.

Roger pushed a silver stand with toast on it, silently telling me to eat.

Kate: Yes, I feel better now, thank you...

(Wait a minute... just why did I feel so down in the first place though?)

I came to the realization that the events of yesterday seemed faint and vague.

(I remember I went with Roger yesterday afternoon to meet the family of someone who had held a bearer of the ‘Curse of the Mirror’ dear.)

(And then...)

Kate: Wait, just why was I so pale again...?

Roger: Huh? It was because the results of the investigation came up empty. I thought you knew?

R: Well, empty aside from the fact that a memento alone is not enough to be able to escape from the tragic fate of those with the ‘Curse of the Mirror,’ so that’s why.

Kate: ...Well, yes, but why was I so bent on finding a way to escape from the Mirror’s fate specifically——

Just then, my heart thumped loudly in my chest.

(Just what... is this feeling...?)

It was like my body was being burnt from the inside as an intense urgency rushed through me.

(I have to remember.)

(I have to——)

(Because it was surely something that I should not... or absolutely could not afford to forget.)

——...You truly are a fool, in every sense of the word, aren’t you.

There, I heard the voice of someone who had rooted himself in my mind.

——Alright, fine, I understand now. I admit my loss.

Whose voice was this?

——Let us put an end to this now.

And just who are you?

——“I have always loved you” — in my own way.

Kate: ...——!

K: It was Alfons...

Roger: Alfons? Who in the world is...

After a moment of silence, those eyes widened sharply.

Roger: ——Tch, blast it, he got us...!

Kate: You mean, he used his ability to...?

Roger: I imagine. He probably said something like, ‘When you wake up, you will forget everything about me.’

R: I was taking a nap down in the lab then. Damn... so he went and used his ability at that time, I bet.

Kate: I think it was the same for me... but that leaves the question of why he would...

(——Hold on. Could it be...)

‘Let us put an end to this now.’

(N-no, that can’t be true.)

The moment a certain possibility bubbled up in my mind, I shut it down.

After all, how would he even think of doing that for someone he didn’t even love? Snow would fall in summer first.

(But...——)

Elbert: ...Kate, Roger.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

Seeing Lord Elbert enter the dining room, I instinctively found myself walking toward him, pressing for an answer.

Kate: Do you remember Alfons...!?

Elbert: ...I do.

E: It seems that... Al’s ability has never lasted very long when he used it on me.

E: So that was why I was able to remember, the moment I saw the note he left behind.

(He left a note...?)

He handed me a slip of paper——and on it, the only words written were ‘Have a lovely rest of your life.’

Kate: ...No way...

That very message, ‘have a lovely rest of your life,’ rang with an air of a farewell for life.

Roger: Forget about a note, that sounds like an entire last will.

Kate: ...gh.

That possibility that I had shot down just before resurrected in my mind.

Elbert: ...There was a time I had asked Al what he would do were you to not give up on him.

(Give up... on him...)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Of course, to see whether you have given up on me.

—— End flashback ——

Elbert: And at the time, the only answer he gave me was that he would ‘cross that bridge when he got to it.’

E: But, when it comes to Al... I thought then that there was only one choice he would make.

Kate: And... what choice is that?

(Please.)

(I beg of you——please don’t say what I’m imagining.)

I stared at Lord Elbert, as if pleading with him.

Elbert: That before you get involved with Al further with your heart and body, pouring your time into him, and falling deeper in love with him...

E: ...he would disappear himself.

That one word — ‘disappear’ — was more than enough to freeze any thoughts in my mind, which had been in turmoil, breaking it down to shambles, just before.

(That’s right... from what I’ve seen, Alfons——was most definitely someone who would do that kind of thing.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: And... are you telling me you would throw away your life just like that for a mere ‘plaything’?

Alfons: Exactly.

A: My own life holds about as much worth as a little tin soldier anyhow.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: ...We have to find him.

K: I can hardly bear for this love... to be what drives him this much to a corner...

Elbert: ...I had an inkling you would say that.

E: And I, too... normally, I would not chase after Al. But this time, I will make an exception.

E: ——After all, I would never let him disappear on his own like that.

(Is... is Lord Elbert angry...?)

I would expect anger from anyone other than him.

But, nonetheless, I still understood very well where he was coming from.

Truly, Alfons undermined the feelings of those around him.

Roger: But even so, someone who can slip by Victor’s eye doesn’t come around every day. It won’t be a walk in the park finding him.

William: ——If you are searching for Alfons, I’ve just received a report from Liam.

Kate: William!?

(I thought he went to the palace, so why... and besides...)

Kate: Wait, I thought Liam... didn’t he go to a cake shop?

William: As per the suggestion of the Privy Council, the purification club had set their sights on Alfons.

W: So that is why Liam and Harrison had been tailing him since yesterday.

Kate: I-is that so...?

William: That said, our goal was to follow the trail of those who were aiming for Alfons,

W: so that we could locate a central figure in the purification club and where he lived...

W: But this morning, Alfons didn’t bother to evade them. In fact, he allegedly even let them take him away.

(No way...)

William: And so I plan to go to the place he was taken to in order to pass judgment on the members of the purification club...

W: But as for you guys——

William’s eyes then meaningfully narrowed at us.

William: It seems there would be little point in asking what you guys want to do, am I right?

—— Alfons’ POV: a dilapidated mansion ——

Just wandering around the alleyways was enough for the purification club to take the bait,

as they took me to a room within a mansion that had clearly seen better years, where paintings with faded colors decorated the walls.

Dust could be seen everywhere, and I was sure if it were a lover they were taking to bed, such a room would be in sorely bad taste.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I thought you would resist more.

Alfons: Then I’ll have you know that I do happen to be the type to simply be whisked away wherever any voice may call.

A: Oh, or was such information not disclosed to you when some certain higher-up handed you documents on us?

We were in a mansion that more so resembled ruins that people would rarely step foot in.

I sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, and several men surrounded me, all armed with a gun.

——I couldn’t ask for a more ideal situation.

Alfons: Would Lord Goa happen to be in attendance?

A: Well, I suppose not. Dirtying his hands from an evil syndicate would be sorely beneath him, I would imagine.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I loathe that you call us as such. In fact, I should be calling you guys an ‘evil syndicate,’ no?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: After all, here you are, not bothering to even try to hide that suspicious power of yours, and even showing it off. That will only make you an enemy.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Your name came up as soon as we told a certain personage about the features of the intruder who had broken into the hotel.

Alfons: Ahha! Now my curiosity on who that may be does tickle me. Were that I could spend a night with such a fan of mine, you see.

The man’s hackles seemed to raise when I responded with words to egg him on.

(Well, it’s a relief to know he is a simple-minded person.)

It seemed as though half a taunt would be enough to make that thread of patience break.

Alfons: ...Would you happen to be familiar with the story of Snow White, perchance?

A: I’m curious to know who you believe to be the most cowardly of the cast? What about the most cruel?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I did not take you here to listen to you ramble about your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You will be telling us about the organization you work for, and its members. If you do, I will at least let you go alive.

Alfons: Hehe... I take it this is your first time interrogating someone?

A: Because dare I say, you could learn a thing — or perhaps ten — from a professional.

A: Interrogation 101 is first researching every nook and cranny about the person you’re going to question, so you know how to threaten them into giving answers, you know, or you will only be making a vain attempt.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ...And dare I say, that’s some advice from someone who simply let himself be taken here.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Very well then. Allow me to answer your childish riddles.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: The most cowardly one is you, and the most cruel one is none other than me.

Alfons: Oopsie, I’m sorry to say you’re sorely wrong.

A: The correct answer would be the Mirror. For both questions, at that.

A: After all, it spoke a truth that nobody needed, and invited such a tragedy... and yet, by the end of the story would you not agree the Mirror has gotten away with it all?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, just what are you getting at!? Do you not value your own life at all!?

Alfons: Goodness gracious, you cannot even find it in your heart to entertain my fun word play? I implore you, do read in between the lines, will you?

A: I’m saying that I despise tragedies.

A: So, do you see now? You can kill me right at this very moment, and I will go out without so much as uttering a complaint.

A: Go on now, everything shall go as you wish. I could hardly care less about when or where I kick the bucket.

Perhaps unable to understand my words, the man with the round glasses humphed.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You are a valuable source of information. Thus, until you spit out information regarding this ‘Crown’ and its members, I won’t grant you death.

Alfons: ...Oh, you poor soul. It seems reading between the lines was just too much to expect from the likes of you, so allow me the honor of clearly enlightening you.

I stood from my seat before approaching the parliamentary member.

Seeing me, who had not shown any signs of resistance until now, the guards who were originally relaxed, raised their guns in a single motion.

(Yes, that’s it, now there’s a good boy.)

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

—— Kate’s POV: city streets ——

On the way to the mansion where Alfons was taken, we crossed paths with Harrison and Liam.

After all, Roger had noticed there were guards lurking at the perimeter of the mansion, keeping watch.

Roger: I would bet they’re trying to get information on the people coming to rescue Alfons — that is, the members of Crown.

(If we’re too reckless, Crown would be put in danger.)

(...But——)

When I thought about the possibility that my memory of him would be lost for eternity,

I felt an urge so intense I could hardly bear it to just jump in the fray then and there.

Elbert: Roger... could you ensure not a single guard can escape?

Roger: Based on their positions and the number of people, I’d say four people are needed for that.

Elbert: ...If that’s so, may I leave that to you?

E: Kate and I will go inside.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

I was not the only one with widened eyes: the others also looked at Elbert with a slightly surprised expression.

Harrison: Well would you look at that, it’s not every day Elbie takes initiative.

Liam: I’m all for it. I’ll make sure there’s not a single witness around.

William: ——You are free to do as you like.

W: After we take care of those lurking around here, we’ll follow after you.

—— Alfons’ POV ——

Alfons: Speaking the truth and whatnot is positively beyond me. Do what you wish with me, but you’ve chosen the wrong person for true information.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: You wretched——

Alfons: Come on now, won’t you shoot me? Or are those guns of yours simply for display in light of all your cowardice?

As I drew closer to the guns, step by step, I unsheathed my saber with a smooth motion, and I heard the sound of guns being readied.

But lackeys needed an excuse to kill a valuable prisoner.

(For example, they got so agitated at having been egged on, they couldn’t put a cap on their emotions.)

(Or perhaps they felt their own lives endangered by retaliation, and so they acted out of self-defense.)

And if it was a mix of both, then all the better for them.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Don’t shoot yet!

Alfons: Ahh! Is it that, despite the fact you find no problem in massacring people in the slums left and right like their naught but garbage, you feel disinclined to point a gun at a ‘noble’?

A: Golly, how much trouble I must have caused you.

A: But allow me to be the first to reassure you that, though I may act and talk like a noble... I actually do come from the slums you so loathe and despise.

(Just one more push.)

I only needed to make these foolish underlings, who didn’t bother to take away my saber just because I didn’t show resistance, think ‘I was dangerous.’

Alfons: So, how about it? Does it seem more doable now?

A: Oh, but if you still can’t find it in you to shoot, then perhaps I will take one of your arms first?

Just as I pointed my saber at him, fully intending to land a killing blow, though...

Kate: ...Alfons!!

Alfons: .........? [surprised]

——Resonating through the room was a voice I should have never heard again.

Upon hearing that voice, for a moment I had forgotten the smile I had worn to egg them on.

If this were a play, I would imagine such a scene would elicit a load of heckling.

And when I turned back, there I saw her, running toward me.

(——Why...)

I knew Liam and Harrison were tailing me.

And so, I led them here, and before they actually arrived on the scene, I would die by the hands of the purification club.

Afterward, Crown would interrogate them like the experts they were before condemning the leader of the purification club, and that would be the end of that.

I was sure they would only question ‘come to think of it, who was this again?’ over my dead body before being disposed of along with the rest of the guards.

——Or, that was how it was supposed to be.

Alfons: Ahh... good lord.

A: This reality can dig itself in a ditch for all I care.

A: Now look at what you guys have done. Thanks to your hemming and hawing, yet more trouble has found its way here.

Guard: Is that woman one of his friends——!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: I’m not sure, as there was nothing in the report. Well, I’m sure this woman is one of many he picked up.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: ——It doesn’t matter anyhow. Just kill her.

The guns then all took aim at her.

(Ahh, jeez——)

Truly, what an absurd thing it was. [1]

—— Kate’s POV ——

Kate: ...Alfons...?

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

The guns that had originally been pointing at Alfons shifted to me.

But right as I thought that, Alfons’ back blocked them.

It was only after his body slowly reeled——

That the flow of time seemed to return to its normal state as his body crumpled to the floor.

Kate: Alfons...!!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: What in the world have you done! Blast it all! How can I face Lord Goa if he dies...

Guard who shot: I-I apologize!

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Forget it! You useless goons! Don’t move another finger until I order it!

While I heard the scolding from a distance, I ran to Alfons.

And I set his head atop my knees, somehow managing to lift his torso.

Kate: Alfons! Hey, Alfons!? Can you hear me!?

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Tch, you damn woman, you’re in the way, so move it!

A loud voice called out to me, causing me to raise my head.

(This person is——)

The man glaring at me was the parliamentary member with round glasses who was talking to Lord Goa in the purification club hotel.

The muzzle of the guns, which resembled a black hole, were pointed at the two of us.

Parliamentary member with round glasses: Stay away from that man. I’m sure if we torture him even on the brink of death, we can wring some in...for——

Man with round glasses: gh, ughh!? What is this...!? M-my head——

(Lord Elbert...!)

At some point, Lord Elbert was standing behind him.

Elbert: …I could say the same for you guys.

E: Could I ask you… to not get in the way?

Due to Lord Elbert’s ability, the parliamentary member with the round glasses was now clutching at his head, crouching on the floor while crying.

(I have utterly no clue what’s going on… but anyhow, we’re saved.)

The befuddled guards stood where they were, stupefied at the strange scene unfolding before them.

Alfons: Pfft, hehe, ahahaha!

Kate: …!?

All of a sudden, I heard laughter from within my arms, bringing my attention back.

Kate: Alfons!? Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake... wait, no! Why are you laughing!?

Alfons: Ahah— sorry, that’s my bad, it’s just... utterly funny to me— pfft, ahaha!

With every word he spoke, the crimson of the blood gradually stained the black of his clothes.

Kate: The blood...! Don’t laugh any more! It’s only going to make the bleeding worse!

K: Right now, the wound——I need to stop the bleeding!

Blood was flowing out from around his shoulders.

Seeming to overflow ceaselessly, I pushed down a handkerchief on the wound.

And it only took a moment for the white handkerchief to be stained in red.

Alfons: haa... hehe, haa... I really am sorry. I know myself that I’m a bloody mess right now.

A: But, goodness, how could I not laugh at this... pfft, ahaha!

(But... there’s so much blood...)

Kate: Gosh, I don’t understand, just what in the world’s so funny to you!? Because I sure don’t see anything worth laughing at...!

Beyond my control, tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes, overflowing.

They threatened to fall and scatter to the ground, but before they could, I felt his black gloved fingers wipe them, his touch ever so gentle.

Alfons: ...Hehe, seeing you so worked up... what a fool you are...

A: To think you would remember me so quickly, and chase me all the way to a place like this...

Feeling the warmth that seeped through his gloves made my chest tighten, and once again, I couldn’t do anything to stop my tears.

Alfons: As I thought, things never seem to work out with you, truly.

A: In fact, it went so awry, I found myself laughing.

Kate: Alright, fine, I understand now, so please, just don’t speak anymore...

Elbert: Kate, let’s tie this over the handkerchief.

Lord Elbert ran to us, a long white cloth in his hand.

It seemed he had cut off a part of his outer clothes from its seams.

And when I looked around him, I saw that the bodyguards, too, were crouching on the floor, as was the man with round glasses.

Kate: Thank you...

Alfons: Hah... were you always this efficient, Elbert... or did I miss something along the way?

Elbert: You were the one who taught me to use what is around at times like these... a long time ago.

Alfons: ...Well, look at you, so awfully earnest.

Once Lord Elbert wrapped the cloth thoroughly around the wound, he left the room to call Roger.

Alfons: ...I cannot help but wonder, though, how did you wake up so quickly?

Alfons looked positively bewildered as he asked.

Kate: I don’t know... how could I?

Alfons: Were it that you could stay beguiled for a tad bit longer...

A: ...you wouldn’t have to go through the person you love dying before your eyes like this...

A: ...and by the time the illusion wears off on its own, you would have forgotten about me already... if only.

Kate: D-don’t... don’t you dare say things like you’re going to die...

K: I would hate that... for you to die...

K: My love, all of my feelings for you...

K: Don’t you even dare... think of turning them into an illusion ever again...

I hugged Alfons’ body tightly — that was the only thing I could think to do now.

Otherwise, the shadow of death that slowly crept toward him would take him away.

Or, much like a mirage, his very existence would fade away from my memories.

Alfons: haa...

From within my arms, Alfons started to move.

And realizing that he was trying to lift himself up, I went into a panic.

Kate: No, you can’t get up! You’re still bleeding...

Alfons: By God, from the bottom of my heart, this was the last thing I ever wished to happen.

Just then, I felt a warmth brush against my lips.

(A kiss...)

The touch of his lips on mine was as light as a feather...

...and yet, out of all the kisses we had shared, this very one was the most fleeting, just as it carved itself into the deepest place in my heart.

Alfons: ...It would seem that... I love you quite a bit myself, as it were.

Kate: ——?

Alfons: At least, to the point where I want to confess like this at death’s door, and leave a trace of myself in your life... one that would never fade away.

A: Would you not agree that life... is quite a fickle thing?

He let out a laugh before his head started to spin.

(No...)

(Please... I beg of you, don’t...)

Kate: ...you...

K: Well, you haven’t left enough of a trace behind...! So I won’t ever, by God, let you die in a place like this...!

Even though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he still slowly looked up at me.

Alfons: ...Then... how about we make a bet... the two of us?

Kate: ...? A bet...?

Alfons: If I die, then I win. I bid you adieu, and have a lovely rest of your life.

A: But, if I happen to survive this ordeal... then you win.

A: And, just as you so wish, I will love you back to the fullest——

A: And tear your life to bits and pieces.

to be continued…

“ love me madly or love me blindly. ”

← prev mad love blind love

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

NOTES:

[1] I find it a bit unclear what the subject is here; he could be referring to reality, or it could be directed at Kate. Or maybe both.

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[themidnightcrimson]

religion ࿏ wm

summary: in which the new reverend at your hometown church wants to give you a lesson on sexual immorality.

words: 5.6K

warnings: pastor!wanda, fem!reader, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), slight non-con/dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, degradation, religion, lots of bible verses, rip my religious trauma, spank me with a bible, fuck me with the crucifix, yes lord in wanda's name we pray amen

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

A few women in the church had put together a potluck after one Sunday sermon, or a “covered dish supper” as the elders liked to call them. You remembered loving those potlucks as much as you loved church itself when you were a child. As the years went by and your worldview got bigger and your mind opened up to the broader possibilities that this was not what life should be like, you scarcely ever went to church.

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

“Very good, my child,” she soothed as you panted, her fingers still inside you. You trembled on her lap, seeing that your wetness had dripped onto her hand and down her maroon robe. “The Lord our God is a merciful one. He forgives you.” She played with the end of your dress, moving her fingers inside you and seeing just what a mess she had made of you. She looked up at your beat red face and teary eyes, her eyes alight with an idea. “Have you ever been baptized?”

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Eleven

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm so happy I'm actually able to upload once a week now! I'm sure you guys are too. xD This story and the support it has gotten is one of the only reasons I stuck through my severe depression. I feel like this character has so much to say. She's all the women who have been a victim of men. She's the breaker of the generational cycles of misogyny women before her suffered. She was weak and powerless because of the systems put in place, but not anymore. Many women throughout actual history have been written out, forgotten, or replaced by men. 

P.S. I decided to feature some Middle English dialogue to make things sound more ~fancy~ when it comes to written words. Also note that starting from this point on, everything that happens in the story is throughout two and a half years.

Translation Guide: Perzītsos: Little Flame. Muña: Mother or mom. Sōvēs: Fly. Prithee: Middle English for please. 

Chapter Warnings: Jace is a turdy younger brother, and the italics when speaking is High Valyrian, which I didn't feel like butchering the translation of.

"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."- C.S. Lewis.

You strolled along the halls of Dragonstone, content and relaxed with your arms clasped behind your grey-blue dress, parchment that you haphazardly wrapped together in your hands. It had been freezing these past few days, and you had to bring out some of your winter gowns.

It was always so cold here on the island. Even in the scorching summer heat, there was always a chill in the breeze. It was nothing like Kings Landing. Though the air was icy, it was clean, with a free-flowing salty smoke smell that wafted through the cracks in the walls instead of the sticky, humid stench of sweat that permeated over all of Kings Landing.

As servants dressed in the traditional bright red garments passed you, each bowed, stopping for their Princess. Even though you were still just a bastard in their hearts, they treated you respectfully, as if you weren't. You had done more in your years here at Dragonstone than they could ever wish to accomplish in their lives.

You had claimed a dragon, the fiercest and most wild one ever to conquer the Westrosi skies. You studied history and philosophy, mastering your ancestor's natural tongue quicker than any of your brothers. You learned to wield the sword as a man, besting serval of the knights that tried you.

When lords and envoys came, negotiating imports and exports between the Island and that of the mainland, seeking to manipulate the heir to the Iron Throne simply because she had teats instead of a cock, you advised her, observing through hidden passages inside the walls and whispering to your mother what you thought.

You were brilliant, too clever for your own good; Daemon would often say, warning you about the dangers of a man's ego. There was no wrath like a man whose pride was wounded. They had started wars over the fact.

"Perzītsos!" Rhaenyra called out to you as you entered the Chamber. A topographical map of Westeros carved into a sturdy wood, each set of land painted in different colors. Quickly, you shoved the letter up your sleeve, hiding it from your parent's eyes.

"Good morn, Muña. What appears to be on the agenda today?" You smiled at your mother, bending forward to give her a peck on the cheek, continuing to keep the letter out of view.

She sighed through her nose, leaning her palms on the table. "Your father has made it his current obsession to support the troops battling in the Stepstones. An opinion in which I agree but not many others share," she said, shaking her head.

"You speak as if I have no ears," Daemon commented like an upset child, crossing his arms.

"Those stuffy cunts of the Small Council won't do anything unless the war is upon their hearth," you spoke in High Valyrian, an annoyed stare directed at the Lords surrounding the Painted Table. "Inaction at the face of those in need aid the oppressor," you declared, now speaking in the common tongue and moving your body to become eye level with your mother.

From his place across the table, Ser Steffon Darkling grinned wistfully, reminiscing at your untainted conviction. It was a quality after years of serving the crown he had lost.

"Despite what you and your father believe," your mother began, finally addressing Daemon, who stood proudly to the side, "we cannot simply send men to the battlefield. There is a process we have to follow, people we have to sway to our side that have historically refused to do anything in the Stepstones."

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his stance. Rhaenyra did the same at his immaturity, sticking her nose in the air. They, indeed, were a match made by the Gods.

As heated discussion commenced, you observed the advisors bickering at one another, their hands wildly gesturing as they spoke. You listened intently to their words while staring at the map, tracings the lines with your pupils as the parchment scratched at your wrist. Supplies were most critical for Lord Corlys than actual swords, you gathered from their arguments, biting your lip as you listened to the options people spouted.

Everything they said was nonsense, some wanting to wait until the Hand accepted their petitions which would be a death sentence for all who occupied those disputed islands.

"The crown will not supply men without consent of the Small Council and the King. That is something we cannot change," you interrupted, looking at each of their surprised faces. "But we still owe it to our Valyrian brothers to help them in anyway we can." As they watched, eyes bulging out of their sockets at your instruction, you twisted your arms behind your back to straighten your posture. "They have been steadfast supporters of the crown going back decades, and they are family." Your voice softened towards the end, staring into your mother's and father's eyes. "It is our duty and honor to do what we can to aid their efforts."

"And what do you suggest then, Princess," an advisor, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, interrupted.

You eyed the older man coldly. He was an unrelenting, incorruptible, and highly wealthy Lord—years of commanding people with ingenious strategies from his towers. Daemon had told you that your mother would need an ally when she ascended the throne.

"We have three able-bodied dragon riders, do we not," you questioned him with an arched brow. "Prince Daemon, myself, and my brother Prince Jacaerys will escort our fleet of ships with supplies—weaponry, food, clothing, healing salves, anything they might need."

"Prithee, Princess, where we would acquire such supplies." Lord Bartimos laughed condescendingly to the sky, the black fur lining his coat shining in the daylight as he shook his head at nothing. It was your turn to smile, showing your teeth as you revealed the elegant paper.

"I have received a raven, Lord Celtigar, from Kings Landing." You quickly looked at your parents simultaneously as their heads snapped toward you and smiled apologetically. You could see Daemon's fury at the secret you kept from him but refused to wither under his gaze. "I was invited to Prince Aegon's name day celebration. Personally," you spoke, your posture stiff and your chin held high. "While there, I will talk with my Grandsire and the Council to ensure our supplies and safe travels."

Bartimos laughed again, grabbing the bronze chalice of mead he had sat down and taking a quick drink. "You believe you can convince the King, let alone the Small Council, to give us aid to the Stepstones," he scoffed and faced Rhaenyra. "I mean no disrespect to his majesty, but we realize it is not him sitting on the Iron Throne; the Hand is. And it will not matter to him what you petition. They have consistently denied ever becoming involved in the Stepstones."

"My father is still the King, despite with rumors you may have heard," Rhaenyra defended, "and your blatant disrespect of him will not be forgotten." She turned to you with a bittersweet but proud smile as she stroked the long, intricate braids on your head. "You have grown wise and strong, perzītsos. You have my approval to go."

Daemon continued to stare at you, unable to hold his gaze. Your eyes darted to the silver buttons on his tunic as he brushed your mother aside and gripped your arms firmly. He was unyielding as Rhaenyra dismissed the meeting until tomorrow.

"You received a letter from Kings Landing?" He leaned down, whispering heatedly in your face. You nodded, a guilty expression covering your features. "When did you think about telling me this, hmm? Have you forgotten what they did to you?" He questioned harshly.

"My love," Rhaenyra whispered, stroking a gentle hand along his shoulder blade. He calmed instantly, inhaling as he let go, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Though it has been years, I have not forgotten what they did," you scowled, stepping away from him. "I know Otto Hightower will be the hardest to sway. His great disdain for our family and us is not unknown to me, but he will have no other choice than to yield once Grandsire and I speak."

Your father huffed and looked away, a childish act from a grown man, as Rhaenyra smiled gratefully. "I am so proud of you, sweet girl," she said kindly, tears forming in her eyes. "You are ever the grown woman, cunning and wit and beauty. I have no doubt you will bring us what we need."

"Thank you, mother." You tried not to show how deeply her words moved you, swallowing a lump in your throat as your cheeks and ears heated. You bowed, exiting as Daemon gave you one last unamused look before Rhaenyra turned sharply toward him.

***

You had read that letter at least a hundred times before you attended the meeting, the contents coming as quite the shock, making your knees buckle over each sentence. It was not addressed to your family as invitations like this should be, but directly to you, from the Queen herself.

Initially, you had come to the Chamber to inform your parents of the note, hardening your heart as you shoved any empathy regarding what Queen Alicent had asked of you and thinking this could be useful to them.

A knock sounded at your door, gentle yet firm as you bid them enter, folding the letter into your lap. Daemon's lithe form crowded the doorway, light from the hall outlining his silhouette as his boots thudded on the stone floor. You refused to acknowledge his presence.

"I came to apologize," he spoke, but you ignored him, still turning your head away and walking to your desk, shutting the letter inside a drawer. "Twas... wrong of me to have acted in such a manner."

Finally, you faced him, looking at his taut expression and putting your fists on your waist.

"That sounded painful, Father," you teased, though you still hid anger beneath your smirk. "I shall call Maester Gerardys to fix you some healing tea."

Your father sighed, dragging his feet to an armchair near the stone fireplace and plopping in it. He cradled his head in his palms, sighing profoundly and moving his body in your direction. Moments like these were the only times you saw the actual inner workings of your father. Alone and after he has made a mistake. You sat in the seat across from him, staring at his aged face and white shoulder-length hair as he thought over his words.

"I should not have acted the way I did," he began, sighing as if he was disappointed with himself as he studied the small orange flames before him. "I forget, sometimes, that you are not like them. Those cunts at court who seek to undermine I and Rhaenyra's claim to the throne."

"Mother's claim to the throne," you corrected, and Daemon grunted, nodding his head curtly.

"The Hightowers seek to undermine your mother's right. They have believed since Aegon was born that he should be named heir because he is a male. Years of precedent my brother had set tossed aside simply for a boy who does not want it nor deserve it."

You looked away, moving your gaze from him to the floor as you chewed your lip. He was right. Everyone in the realm felt the uncertainty of Rhaenyra's claim, but no one believed the Hightowers would actively try to supplant her beside Daemon... and now you. You couldn't trust them not to take advantage of such an opportunity because you knew Daemon himself would if given a chance. You had experienced the evil they could commit, something you believed your father would never do, how the Queen turned a blind eye to the Hand's decision to murder and publicly shame people you loved.

"My invitation to Kings Landing could be more advantageous than I thought," you said aloud. Daemon did not outwardly acknowledge your words. Only the ghost of a smirk let you know he was listening.

"If Prince Aegon does not want the crown," you said to yourself more than anything, "what is preventing them from crowning him any way upon Grandsire's death? With enough persuasion the Prince could change his mind. A glutton would surely not turn away a feast simply because someone said no."

"We have preparations set in place for that moment. The bells will be rung upon his death, and a raven will be sent here to summon Rhaenyra for her corination." Daemon shrugged, watching the dwindling fire before him. You looked at him perplexed.

"That is all," you questioned, and he nodded.

"And honor, I suppose," he offered half-heartedly. "The lords of the kingdom have sworn fealty to her. In everyone else's minds, the matter is set."

"Do you think a man such as Otto Hightower, a man who has been removed from his position once before for conspiring in his own self-interests, has honor?" You abruptly stood, pacing between the fire and Daemon as you crossed your arms, pulling the skin off your lip. "He will do everything in his power to keep Mother off the throne and crown someone who is his kin. There has to be more done to secure Mother's place and make sure there are no doubts about secession after Grandsire's death."

You were irate, vividly gesturing as you thought of what to do, of what plans to make. On the other hand, your father sat still, completely unmoving, as the light danced over his pale skin. You became irritated at his lack of response, kicking his boot in frustration.

"What do you suggest we do, daughter? There is only so much one can in such a short time. A name day celebration only lasts till the next morrow's dawn, and it would be improper to stay longer than customary."

Your mind stopped at his words, glancing over at your mahogany desk. There would be a way for you to stay longer, long enough to change preparations to ensure a smooth succession.

"I am certain there is a way I can arrange for a greater," you paused, looking at your father's sitting form, "stay. If you are willing to let me, of course," you hastily added.

A grin slowly spread across Daemon's pink lips, the closest to a smile you would ever get from him, as he stood. He rested his hands on your shoulders like always when he wanted his point heard.

"Good. Like your mother, I have faith that you will succeed. Failure is not in our blood," he spoke, his purple eyes following the white streak in your hair. "I know you care deeply for her, which is why this needs to be kept between father and daughter. I do not want any undue stress upon her as we plan for another child soon," he said in a lowered voice.

You nodded, your lashes fluttering with a faint smile as he left your chambers. Breathing deeply, you went to your desk, plucking the note from the drawer as you reread it.

"I hope this letter finds thou well. Despite your start, I have heard tales of the feats thou have accomplished and how you have grown into a lady fitting of thy station. Though I realize we did not leave within the terms I had wished the last time thou visited the Keep, I need thy help. My son, Prince Aegon, hath become unruly since you have left. He lives inside the brothels on the Streets of Silk and drinks until he cannot move. He hath gone missing multiple times in the past months.

Watchmen discovered him in a pool of his own gore, and when I reminded him of his intended name-day celebration within a fortnight and all who were expected to be in attendance, he was enraged. I had never seen him in such a way. Aegon now refuses to attend for unknown reasons and hath disappeared again. I dispatched Ser Criston Cole to find my son, but he hath had nay luck.

I implore thou to forgive the details that I am about to divulge. Years after thou had left the Red Keep, I had come looking for Aegon within his chambers and had found what couldst only be titled as an alter for thou. Dresses, underclothes, bed linens, stockings, miniature portraits of thou, and a journal were sullied and hidden inside a compartment within his mattress. I realize it was wrong of me to dost so, and I have prayed to the Seven in recompense, but I chose to read his diary's contents. What I saw inside were the inner thoughts of a madman.

I am disgusted by what I read, but it couldst be used to the advantage. Depravity depicted in such blatant language, vulgar thoughts, and words that nearly stopped my heart, but what disturbed me the most was that thou were in it. I know of the time you and Aegon spent together and his lingering feelings toward you.

I beg thou, pray, come to Kings Landing. Thou art my only hope to stop the shame brought upon this family by his absence. I wilt give thou whatever thou desire in thanks.

Nay soul knows the contents of our correspondence, and I wouldst like it to continue that way.

With sincere regards, Queen Alicent of House Hightower"

The Queen was a simpleton to believe that her begging could make you feel an ounce of sympathy toward her plights. You did not owe her anything. For all you cared, Aegon could fuck every woman in Kings Landing, never appear at any event, and drink himself to death, and it would still not be enough shame cast upon her family.

The Hightowers deserved to suffer—every single one of them.

***

It had been three days since you had received Queen Alicent's letter begging for your help. It was plenty of time to send one of your own to the Red Keep and pack your things.

Rhaenyra had found it odd that only you had been the one to receive an invitation to what indeed should be a family event. All the noble houses that were sent a raven would surely bring along their spouse and gaggle of children.

Despite the petty attempt at an insult this was to Rhaenyra and her kin, she did not pry further nor send word of her displeasure to her past friend. The trip did serve a hidden purpose from House Hightower, so she let the offense slip with the wind.

"Sister. You truly do not desire to return to that den of vipers," Jaceaerys questioned as the Dragonkeepers perilously dragged Cannibal's chained body. It was something you could never watch as you lowered your gaze to your riding pants.

It always stung your heart to observe such a wild beast in shackles, the Keepers hitting him with whips if he disobeyed. Dragons cannot be tamed with soft riders, you chanted internally. The reminder of it carved into the flesh of your palm. You had to be brave, strong, and intelligent. Kindness did not get you a dragon.

"Sister," Jace waved his hand beside you, "are you even hearing my words?" You hummed, nodding as you looked into his brown eyes, which were not so different from yours.

"Yes, I am listening, brother," you replied condescendingly. "My desire is certain. I will travel to Kings Landing upon their request, for it would be rude to refuse the words of the Queen."

"The Queen sent it to you?" he asked, incredulous, his black eyebrows raising to the sky as you gave him a perplexed look.

"Did I not tell you," you requisitioned, tilting your head at his bewildered expression. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but you swiftly cut him off. "It is no matter who sent it, so I do not see why you are concerned."

He huffed, crossing his arms as he toed the loose stones in front of the entrance to Dragonmont. You rolled your eyes.

Yes, you did love your half-brother as if he was truly your whole, but the lack of blood relation did not make him any less annoying.

"Why would they only invite you? I am to inherit the Iron Throne after Mother. It should be I mounting my dragon and flying to Kings Landing," he said proudly but with envy in his tone. "I am the Kings grandson and not the bastard of-"

"Jacaerys!" Your mother shouted, Lucserys's and Joffrey's hands in her own, closely followed by the rest of your family and some servants to see you off. "Give your apologies to your sister, now."

Jace turned to you, red tinting his cheeks and mumbling under his breath as he went to stand beside the nursemaids holding the twins, Viserys and Aegon. You walked over to your mother, showing none of the bottled emotions your brother had opened as she wrapped you in her warm embrace.

"I will miss you my perzītsos," she whispered into your tightly braided hair. "No matter what anyone says, we are your family, and the blood of the dragon flows strongly within you."

You looked up at her violet eyes, shimmering in a pool of unshed tears as you smiled and said you would miss her. It would be the first time since you had been brought to Dragonstone you ever traveled anywhere without your family.

Occasionally, you would travel to Driftmark for Rhaena's name day or holidays so she could be with her twin and grandparents or when the rare Lord would invite Rhaenyra to gain her favor as the heir. Your family had their own little world here on Dragonstone, so there was no reason to leave it.

You gave each of your younger siblings a kiss on the cheek, promising Luke how you would write every moment you could. Rhaena, whom you never had a close relationship with despite sharing the same father, came, offering you a sincere smile and hug before you reached Jace.

He couldn't look at you, his eyes focusing on anything but his half-sister standing before him. You stepped closer, surprising him with a genuine hug before whispering.

"We are more alike than you think. I believe that is why we tend to fight so much," you paused, pulling him closer to your body under the guise of a sentimental moment as he processed your words. "But once you accept that we are not so different, perhaps we will finally have nothing to upset our parents about." You felt his sharp intake of breath as you released him. The implication hung in the air as you gave him a loving smile and a peck on his nose before you went to Daemon.

Your father nodded to the servants behind him as you watched them, bewildered. They carried a rectangular item wrapped in a leather cloth, the shape unmistakable as they uncovered it, placing it delicately not to hurt Daemon.

The sheath was as golden as the sun as your father removed it, the longsword blade reflecting a mirror image of the grey sky above. Its hilt had the same gold with intricate designs on the smaller-than-average handle that expanded its way up to the blade, licking the steel like flames. The crossguard comprised two dragons on opposing sides, turning their head to bite the blade. A blood-red ruby sat in the center, surrounded by what you could only assume were four circles of Dragonglass. It reminded you of Dark Sister, Daemon's sword, only more ornate.

You could not form words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish thrown onto the shore. You wanted to thank him. Spout your never-ending gratefulness and praise until the end of time, but none of that leaves your lips.

"Could I hold it," you asked Daemon, your eyes flicking to his and the sword. He smirked, his eye wrinkling in the corner as he placed it in your upturned palms.

It was heavier than the training swords you used, sharper than them, too, as you run your finger across the blade. You were sure it had taken some convincing on Daemon's part to get Rhaenyra to agree to have your own weapon. You had overheard them arguing behind closed doors regarding your upbringing on more than one occasion. Your half-mother refusing to let Daemon commission you a simple sword of your own, and your father arguing back about how she had no say over his blood.

You knew what it meant to have your own sword. It was more than finally showing your prowess and reaching your full potential but was a silent way of your mother and father believing you were ready and that it was your turn to teach and guide yourself in the art of life and the dangers that came with it.

"Thank you, father," you quietly breathed, hooking the sword onto the leather belt of your pants.

Its golden sheath stood out among the black cloth of your outfit, clashing with the silver that accented your body. You would have to commission new clothes once you were in Kings Landing.

Daemon said nothing, tilting his head as you came in for a firm embrace. He squeezed you tightly, nearly crushing your ribs as he rested his chin on your hair, noting Rhaena's avoidant gaze. This was the most affection you had received from him, never having been the type of man who smothered his family in kisses and hugs. You melted at his touch, smiling into his chest as you both stood there for the longest time, making no effort to pull away until the young Viserys sneezed.

"You will write to me very day, yes?" Daemon questioned, his hands on your shoulders as he raised his brows.

"Of course," you said passionately. "Everything I see, every whisper, rumor I hear will be sent to you." He hummed in approval, releasing you as you climb atop your dragon.

You adjusted yourself in your saddle, stationed between two of Cannibal's large spikes, as you gave your family one last parting glance.

Though you were on one of the most enormous dragons in the world, you could still see the teary eyes of Jace, your mother, and Luke. All looked up at you with the same expressions as you pressed your lips to your leather riding gloves, sending each of them a genuinely heartfelt kiss.

"Sōvēs!" You shouted, and the black dragon reared its hind legs, pushing off the rocky ground as he lifted his wings.

Master List of Series

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If you want to know what her sword is based on, here is the link. Her sword has much more pizzazz than the one pictured because she is royalty. xD Let's just send a silent prayer for Aegon in the next chapter. He's gonna need it because someone has unresolved trauma.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @adelusionalwriter

[00angelyoon]

-⟡ sort of like romeo and juliet ?

(a teaser)

sorry I didn’t kiss you, i wanted to though ?

⟡ synopsis: “you love me?” you questioned “i’d be insane not to.” he replies confidently “why?” you mumble “don’t you want a perfect quiet housewife.” he chuckles softly “I don’t, i want you.”

⟡ featuring: chwe hansol x journalist afab reader

⟡ warnings: fingering, begging, praise kink i think, kind of public sex, soft dom vernon, sub reader, (angst, sexism and misogyny not in this teaser) kissing, swearing, petnames (pretty, pretty girl, good girl, sweetie and sweetheart), this fic takes place in the 70’s, big dick energy from hansol and intentional lowercase.

⟡ tags: coworkers to lovers, seventies, smut, fluff, angst, non idol au (18+).

⟡ notes: i really love this theme, saw this pic of hansol and i just clicked, i really didn’t want to say bridal style. 🫶🫶🫶

mdni!

“hansol we can’t do this here.” you pull out of the sloppy kiss, you were sharing with hansol a line of saliva connected both your lips. everyone left the office a while ago but you and hansol had to finish an article together, you were from the journaling department, hansol was from the marketing department, he was supposed to help you get people to read your article but that man was so much of an endearing airhead you guys ended up drinking wine and making out after he confessed his crush on you, your not complaining though.

he was carrying you bridal style in his lean arms. he brought you to his office “there’s no security cameras in this room.” you joined your lips with him again. he smelled like coffee brewing in the morning, he tasted like the cheap red wine you both were drinking, he was so fucking enchanting.

he placed you on the desk. “you’re sure.” you questioned “you’re sure, that no one will see us.” he chuckled softly “i’m sure.” he pulled up your skirt to your hips, he pecked your lips one more time gently. he pulled off your soaked panties revealing your glistening folds, “oh pretty.” hansol whispered into your gummy walls, the praise sent blood to your head, “hansol please.” he hummed in response. he brought two of his fingers to your mouth, “open your mouth.” he commands, you open your mouth for him, he circles his fingers around your mouth “good girl.”, he took his fingers out of your mouth and moved in between your thighs.

hansol then kisses your upper thigh, “so pretty even down here.” he compliments. “hansol please.” you mumbled underneath your breath “please what?” hansol moved up to your face, “please what pretty girl.” he pushed one of his fingers up your entrance, you screamed out in pleasure “hansol.” you stutter, you don’t know if it was the pleasure you were experiencing or was it the two glasses of wine you drank, you weren’t sure.

“again.” he added his other finger “please what sweetie.” he pumped his fingers in you, you let out a soft moan “hansol, please fuck me.” you grabbed his shoulder “please.” you whispered in his ears. he laughed softly “i was planning on doing that sweetheart.”

-⟡ sort of like romeo and juliet ?

(a teaser)

[sanctuary1988]

~ Subtle Conscience | 5 | Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers? fluff, light angst, TENSION, this is another light chapter tbh. period typical misogyny, age gap (huge), dark romance, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.5k words

A/N: Hi, everyone! SO, chapter 5 is here, I actually got a bit of writer's block during April and this came to me in a moment of inspiration. I really hope you will like this chapter as we are building something here! The cake is baking, darlings!

I inspired a scene on "Beauty and the Beast" as it was my favourite childhood princess movie. I guess that's where all the love for broken men started O.O

ANYWAYS.... I will not entertain you further, love. Happy reading everyone and please let me know your thoughts on this! I'd love to hear anything you had to say. 🫶

Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Time seemed to fly from your hands as you occupied yourself with managing the underground palace. Everything was on point, in order as you made it your task to keep everything in its place. You came to know that Gwi often left the underground paradise at night and never left during the day. He enjoyed having tea in the evenings and for you to join him for breakfast every morning. You came to know he often read in his solitude and the sweet nicknames he called you were your new designated name. 

You sat in your room reading a book under the big cherry blossom tree that made the place smell deliciously sweet. You sighed to yourself already bored of the things written in it as it was the third time you read that book; however, despite your boredom, there were always things to do around the underground palace. 

Morning came around and the routine began turning monotonous for you. With swift steps, you left your bedroom to meet Gwi in the main hall. He was sitting in his throne as usual, his demeanour as domineering as always. You bowed down at him, acknowledging his presence. You felt his eyes on your form as you walked in front of him and sat down at the table set out for you. 

“I have noticed your impeccable work around, petal.”

He commented, his deep voice resonated over the big room. You sipped your tea, softly humming at the sweet taste before you spoke, your tone soft, bored even as you began to eat. 

“I need to keep myself occupied, My Lord.”

“Is that so?”

And you nodded at his inquiry. Enjoying the food displayed out for you to eat. A subtle breeze entered the place, it was slightly colder than before, autumn was approaching and for that you were grateful, cooler days were to come. And with that, perhaps a change in a life you were forced to live. 

Gwi noticed your apathetic self. Your grey soul reflected itself to him as if he were gazing at an enchanted mirror. His eyes trailed down your form, eyes as dark as night with a tinge of crimson of buried secrets and broken promises. He looked at you, taking in the way you were tense in your posture, your hands rigid as you ate and the restlessness in your still beautiful features he was mesmerised about. 

He suddenly rose from his throne and you couldn’t help but look at him with big eyes filled with curiosity. Just as he took a step forward you rose from the table, hands tangling in front of you as you waited for his next move. 

Gwi was entranced by your beauty. Delirious over your eyes and enchanted by your lips that spoke words that encouraged him to a path he knew was doomed to drown in blood. He remembered that day when he followed you into the marketplace. That day he got a glimpse of your silver innocence. Of your pure soul that was now at the mercy of his cruel hands. He missed seeing that smile, yearning for that ray of light that illuminated his dark life. 

“My sweet flower, come with me.”

The command was soft-spoken yet it carried his power within the words that reached your ears. He extended his hand toward you and without hesitation, you took it. Trusting him blindly. Gwi didn’t know what to do with the knowledge of your blind trust. For he had once desired to have it in his possession but sadly realised you could be in danger for your golden heart. 

But his flower was owner of very sharp thorns. 

You followed him in silence, blinded by a trust you had earned ever so slowly. You reminiscenced on the first time Gwi took you to his underground palace that day at the flower garden in the royal palace above. The experience was similar, the sensation of being guided by him allowed you to rest and enjoy his mysterious self as he walked through his large palace hallways with torches and candles to illuminate the place even during daylight. 

He stopped in front of a closed door before he turned to look down at you, his eyes met yours and you could swear you saw a spark of anxiousness in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came before he spoke in that thunderous voice of his. 

“You once spoke about your enjoyment when it came to reading and not once had you visited the marketplace again since we had that conversation.”

You blinked up at him, softly tilting your head to the side as your hand still rested in his bigger one. 

“When you are burdened, flower of mine, lose yourself in the world of words”

His other hand slid open the door and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips at what was in front of you. You took a step forward, then another and another and your hand left his as you ventured into the room you didn’t know existed within this walls. 

You couldn’t help the smile at what you were seeing, the craftings, the shelves, the books. The beauty within this room was magnificent to even put to words. The hidden room was a mesmerising library with large shelves filled with books and scrolls as well as paintings on the walls and flowers on vases. You could even smell the aroma from where you stood. 

Gwi watched as you looked around in utter surprise. Completely awestruck at what you were seeing. Not even the royal library in the palace above you was this beautiful and you could firmly say so as you had once ventured there without your father’s permission. 

“It’s beautiful.”

You whispered, completely enchanted by the beautiful library before you. Gwi watched you from the entrance way, he admired how the spark returned in your (e/c) eyes and how you smiled so innocently. Like that day at the marketplace. Silver Innocence. He thought to himself as he walked to stand next to you. 

“If you like it, it’s yours then.”

You turned to look up at him with your eyes wide in utter surprise, trying to suppress the smile on your lips as you asked him, suddenly conscious of what he was giving you. 

“Really?”

Gwi gave you a solemn nod as his hands tangled behind his back. 

“I have found solace within these walls for many years. Come here whenever you like, petal. You do not need my permission to enter this place, it’s yours now.”

Your eyes locked with his in a delicate dance led by sentiment. You smiled, that smile that had dulled out from your beautiful features, that smile he had secretly missed. That smile that was enough to light his dark world. 

“Thank you, My Lord. You have made me really happy.”

If you had looked at him for a second longer you would have seen the subtle smile that danced over his lips. Delicate in its nature. But you turned around as your eyes went from book to book, to scroll to scroll as you lost yourself in the world of poetry and ancient history. A new world Gwi had shown you and that you welcomed with open arms. 

Evening came sooner than later and it was only when you noticed one of the candles in the library already about to burn out that you stood up and walked out of the magnificent room you had lost yourself into. 

The underground palace was drowned in silence as usual. For only Gwi resided there and it was you who served him. It sometimes felt suffocating, to have so much empty space, so many thoughts wandering around, so many things to do. So much freedom inside your cage. You found a strange connection with the man who kept you to himself. It wasn’t of hate or of love. It was of gratitude. For he had saved you from an unwanted fate that would put even heavier chains on your heart than to serve him with absolute devotion to the lord who lived in secrecy. 

You were quick to prepare his evening tea before you were walking to the main hall of the underground palace where Gwi sat in his throne, candles were all around the place as they flickered softly with the delicate blows of the wind that entered the palace from time to time. 

His eyes met your form the moment you stepped inside, you bowed down while carrying the tray with his tea, your eyes casted down as you walked further into the room, up to his throne so that you could place the tray on the table next to him and pour him a cup of the steaming beverage. 

In silence, he watched you work. In silence, he accepted the cup you held out for him. And in silence he took a sip from it. 

“Your tea is always so sweet. What is it that you put in it?”

His words were spoken against the cup, murmured even. If you had been standing further away from him, you wouldn’t have been able to listen to him. Yet in their nature they were gentle, curious even as his eyes met yours under the candle’s light around you both

“Just some honey, My Lord. If you do not like it, I can always make you another cup.”

Gwi tilted his head, looking at you with utter magnificence that made a subtle blush paint your cheeks. 

“I never said I did not like it.”

And with that, he took another sip, nearly emptying the cup before he handed it back to you. A silent order to fill it up again. The moment you handed it back, his fingers brushed against yours, sending tingles along your arms and down your spine. 

“Did you enjoy your gift?”

A smile immediately painted your lips. And he admired the way you were so open with your happiness, especially after the source of said happiness was himself. 

“How could I not?”

You spoke, your voice carrying emotions he couldn’t fully comprehend. Emotions he had already forgotten how they felt. Emotions that had died with his immortality. He lifted an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, merely curious about your perspective. But you lowered your gaze again, clearing your throat before speaking in a more proper tone. 

“It is a beautiful gift, My Lord. I do not have the words to express just how grateful I am.”

But he didn’t like the change in your demeanour. He didn’t like the way you hid your feelings behind the veil society demanded you to cover your true nature. Your true emotions. Your innocence he so wanted to keep and corrupt at the same time. 

He lifted your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you with delicate motions to meet his eyes once more. You did, though shyly at first. His eyes, dark with a tinge of crimson explored your beautiful features, your micro expressions. Your true colours at the reach of his palm. 

“Don’t do that.”

You frowned and he continued, his deep voice nearly making you purr as he held you with firmness yet still softness to his touch. A touch that burned your skin. 

“Do not hide from me, petal.”

You swallowed, your eyes never left his as his words crushed down everything you had learned since you were a mere child. To always appear beautiful, to never express yourself, to stay quiet, to never voice out your thoughts and concerns. It was mostly your father who taught you to be that way. It was socially acceptable. It was needed for you to belong to his circle. But you did not live that life anymore. 

“Forgive me. Customs die hard, My Lord.”

Gwi lifted an eyebrow at you, his hand left your skin and you felt instantly cold at the lack of his tender touch. 

“Is that so?”

You hummed, bowing softly before you stepped aside. Trying to break the tension between you both that threatened to drown you. Gwi continued to enjoy his tea in silence. The flickering candles dimmed out softly with the slow passing of time. You refilled his cup two more times before he spoke once more. 

“Tomorrow night you’ll join me for dinner at the royal palace.”

With curiosity you looked at him but he seemed unbothered by the words that had just left his mouth. You blinked twice, trying to resist the temptation to ask, to question his choices. For you served him, he was your lord and master. But he had also forbidden you from hiding your true self. 

“Why would you desire my company at such an event, My Lord?”

You knew tomorrow night an important dinner was to be hosted at the royal palace with the council. Gwi was to attend. Your father as well. Perhaps even the king himself would be there. But you were of little significance to the royal council. He looked at you, his expression soft as his eyes held a key to his many secrets. Gwi was a mysterious being. Something you did not dare question at all for you knew you’d receive no answer whatsoever. But there was something in his gaze that moment that made you want to unravel all the secrets and sins he held in his heart. 

“Because you belong to me. You go where I go. You exist where I exist, and you will obey when I order it, petal. We made a deal, remember?”

You casted your gaze down, missing the subtle smirk that danced over his lips at your delicate submission. Yet the fire in your eyes never died down. The confidence in your stance never faltered. Not one bit. 

“I’ve never forgotten, My Lord.”

Gwi tilted his head ever so slightly looking at you with expressive eyes that, had you been looking at him at that moment, you’d have seen oceans of feelings he kept hidden behind the veil of his nature. The veil of his power. 

“Wear a red dress, my sweet flower. You are dismissed for today.”

You placed the teapot on the tray before bowing down in silence. His eyes followed your every movement as you walked away to your room and never glanced back at him. Never did you misstepped. Never did you lose your elegance in your walk. Never did you show him weakness. And for that, he smirked to himself. 

For he knew he had a beautiful rose by his side with poisonous thorns that had already pierced his heart. Though if it was painful, he couldn’t tell. His heart was dead. But maybe, the roots of your existence could start making his heart blossom with something different from his infatuation. 

Something deeper. 

Something sacred. 

Something he’d have to protect from the world and even from himself.

April/25/2024

A/N: How are we feeling about this? O.O

Are we excited? What would you like to see next, darling? My inbox is open 🫶

~ Masterpost

[green-typewriterz]

LILACS AND FORGET ME NOTS

Pt TWO

PART ONE

Harry Styles x Queen!reader

Summary: its been a few years since your wedding to harry and you couldnt be happier

ASK: Could you write a prince Harry Styles/ princess reader. It can be an idea of your choosing PART TWO TO PREVIOUS ASK

Warnings: talks of battle, death of mother, mentions of scars, misogyny if u squint (mediaeval era)

word count: 1295

Three years had passed since the wedding and both you and Harry were the happiest you could be together. However, despite the connection between the two allied families, war was still building in the west and there was no way to avoid it. Your father had abdicated the throne two years ago and it was your job as Queen to assure your people would not feel the effects of the storms raging in other places.

Harry stuck by your side, an innocence to war that you envied. He was a good fighter, skilled in combat, but he had never fought in battle, you weren’t sure if he was prepared. You had chipped away at his rough personality for years and made him a kind, generous king, but it was up to you to fight now - something he didn’t agree with. You both sat at the large birch table in the dining hall, hands intertwined tightly.

“The Western armies are approaching quickly, Y/N. I’m sure you realise I am expected to fight?” Harry spoke softly, not taking his eyes off of his beloved wife. You nodded slowly, understanding what had to be done.

You put down your glass and took both of his hands in your own, talking quietly, “you must understand that I am to fight as well.” His eyes widened, shocked into a silence that you spoke into, “I am nothing if not my mother. I must lead her army the same way she had.”

You barely spoke of your mother, but a portrait of her hung in nearly every room, watching like some kind of goddess. Harry found himself staring at the paintings for hours, wondering about the shine in her eyes and the scars on her face. He had never seen the same determined glint of battle in your eyes, so your confession scared him.

“You can't. You aren’t prepared, my love.” He replied, worry spreading through him like fire. You spared a short glance with your maid and she nodded silently, leaving the room. This was a private matter and Tilly understood that. “I don’t know how I’d live if you were to be injured.”

You sighed and let go of his hands. “You don’t think I feel the same? You are strong, Harry, I know this. But you’ve never fought!” He stared at you for a moment. Then, so quietly you weren’t sure he had ever spoken, he whispered:

“How can you feel the same?” You questioned his words in confusion, barely understanding what he meant. He spoke loudly now, “You may be Queen, but you are no warrior either. I don’t have a choice, Y/N. I have to fight. You don’t.”

You scoffed and stood, heading over to the large fire and staring at the dwindling embers. “I find, what makes a good ruler is their ambition, their willingness to die for their people. Don’t you?” You heard a scrape behind you and after a moment, felt Harry’s strong hands gently clasp your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing in the smell of your perfume. You leaned backward into him.

The fire burned low, the room’s coldness forcing the flames away. “Promise me you won’t go.” He whispered, begging. You didn’t turn to look at him, knowing you would not be able to give your reply to his face. His breathing was calm against your neck, blowing small strands of hair away from your skin.

“I promise.”

What a solemn lie it was.

——

You woke in the early morning, the sun casting a golden hue over the room. You had written a letter in haste, the parchment creased from the amount of times you had folded and unfolded it to check the wording. Once you were certain it was perfect, you got ready, putting on a simple tunic and trousers. Your horse was waiting in the crisp morning air, its armour already placed and secured. You spent a moment calming her and placed your head against hers, whispering a silent plea to any sort of spiritual being that was listening for her safety, then set off, heading to the large open field where the battle was to take place.

Your horse slowed as it reached the main knight’s grounds and you felt the stares of Harry’s army on your back. They most likely didn’t expect any women to be on the battlefield. Your own army arrived moments later, clad in their glinting silver armour. You were handed a chest plate and chainmail of your own and quickly got prepared, your fingers gently grazing over the forget me nots branded onto the front. This was your mother’s armour, your mother’s weaponry and you wore it with pride.

You stood in the main tent, strategising with your Countess Marshal, when Harry stormed in, clad in his own armour. “You left, not only without me, but after you had promised to stay behind!” He shouted and the knight excused herself with a knowing smile toward you, she had known this was coming.

“There is no time for this Harry, there is a war.” You spoke back, writing notes quickly on a bit of parchment. He walked closer and took both of your hands, stopping you from working. His eyes blazed with anger and worry, but you could tell any anger was not aimed toward you, yet to himself for not keeping you safe. “This is my country's tradition.”

He stood there, still clasping your hands. “What do you mean by tradition? There is no tradition here; it is a battlefield.”

You sighed and let go, fixing your armour tighter to you. “I am very aware of where we are situated, Harry. Don’t be fooled by my apparent femininity, I am not naive to what a knight looks like. Did you think the scars on my mother’s portrait were from sewing? The women here fight, just the same as your men do. I am trained for this, as are my girls. Don’t you worry about some futile argument of whether or not I can when I clearly already have before under my mother’s guidance.”

Harry had never seen this side of you before, the ambition, the strength. You seemed like some sort of warrior queen he had only heard of in legend. He smiled and stood closer, taking your chin in his hand. “Well, let’s agree to let one another fight. Though, you cannot stop me from worrying about you.” You nodded and he leant forward, your lips connecting in a sweet kiss.

“Milady- oh.” Your Countess Marshall, Lilibet walked into the tent, stopping in her tracks as she saw the two of you kissing. Her face tinted red. “My apologies to your highnesses, but we are all prepared.”

You laughed and pulled away from the kiss, leaving a lingering longing in Harry’s heart for something more than what had been given. “My bow, Lili.” She grinned and handed it to you swiftly. Your fingers traced over the engravings in a soothing pattern as you made your way out of the tent, sparing one last glance at your husband. You placed your sword into its hilt and headed for your horse, brushing its main gently.

“My love!” Harry called out and you turned to see him running toward you. He placed a strong kiss to your lips and lifted you into his arms, the momentum spinning the both of you around. “A goodbye kiss” He whispered as you pulled apart.

The both of you smiled and you smoothed his mess of waves as you replied, “Stay true, fight honourably.” You climbed onto your horse and rode away, preparing your bow. Harry watched you leave with a kind, loving smile. He knew you’d fight. And he knew you’d win.

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter nine: new leather boots

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 3819

The next morning had been like harsh laughter spitting in her face. Not long after the sun had entered the sky, clouds had rolled in from nowhere. Thunder cracked and rain poured down heavily from the skies. From the moment she had woken up, all through the breaking of her fast inside her chambers — just as she had taken her meal the evening before. The rain never so much as lessened. The day had been dreary from its very start. Oddly enough, such weather had always been the princess’s favorite. She loved the cool mist that chilled her hot skin and the cover of clouds that blocked out the sun. Life slowed down, creatures sought dry shelter. She felt like she could relax, like nothing debaucherous would seek her out while the sky cried. It was after the storm when she would worry. That morning’s rain had been different. It only brought bad news, as if the Gods themselves did not christen their trip. The three sisters would not go riding that day. While their father would encourage it, Princess Rhaenys would never allow them to do so in such conditions. Much like with their family dinner that evening, there would be no argument. Like she had decided to do with dinner the night before, the princess quietly finished her meal in solitude. She watched the rain out the window and stewed. All through the night, she tossed and turned, not getting a lick of sleep. She had even slept with one of her pillows on top of her head to try and block out any distractions. Yet nothing was more distracting than the fear and anticipation that overcame her with the very thought of seeing her father again. Hearing of the men he had slain had been entirely different from seeing him kill a man before her eyes. He had done so with no hesitation prior and no regret after. He did not even break a sweat. It was normal to him. In fact, he took pride in it. Alone in her chambers, she could not help but imagine the body on the floor to be her own. The picture in her mind tortured her. She hoped with all her heart that he would not truly be capable of such an atrocity. But she could not change what had already been done.

After eating, her handmaids came to ready her. They were very focused that morning, starting with a full body exfoliation by using a special technique from Volantis. Maetilda had immediately recognized the smell of the scrub. Noarysa guided Adelyn as the younger diligently followed instruction. Together, they moved onto the princess’s hair. Adelyn threw in helpful tips to Noarysa as they braided the long silver honey locks into the cascading updo they had come accustomed to styling since their first day. It was a style that the princess found herself almost emotionally attached to. Even if she had originally chosen to style it in such a manner to subconsciously flatter the Queen. Normally, she would wear her hair in Valyrian braids. Her handmaids at Dragonstone would spend an entire morning working her hair into intricate weaved styles. They would always comment on how fun her hair was to work with. It was long and full and had been cared for with the most expensive oils and potions money could buy for the entirety of her life. Many would comment how it resembled her grandmother Princess Alyssa’s hair in curl, texture, and bounce. It was the one thing that Maetilda had always liked about herself. Whenever she had ever felt less than her sisters because everyone around them had always seemed to love them more than her, she would always tell herself that her grandmother would have loved her if the woman were alive. They misted her face with rose water before dressing her only in her undergown and stays. It was late in the morning, yet they did not move to dress her in any gowns. Instead they slipped a big slate blue and dusty jade quilted housecoat over her shoulders. One that she had never seen before. The princess looked at Noarysa and Adelyn in confusion.

“Princess Rhaenyra should be here soon with a dressmaker. My husband and another shoemaker in town are coming to measure for shoes.” Noarysa informed.

“New gowns and new shoes?” Maetilda asked suspiciously.

“I knew of the shoes last night, the dressmaker was sent for after the Princess and your father had breakfast with the King and Queen this morning.” The handmaid continued.

Information. Without any bribe. She had either made a new friend or owed a new debt. Regardless, she bowed her head in gratitude, “Thank you, Noarysa. I am excited to finally meet this husband I have heard so much about.”

“Your family has honored mine greatly, Princess. Thank you.”

“If your husband does well, I shall be ordering more and telling everyone else I know.”

“T-T-That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Fine work deserves to be finely compensated for. Adelyn, if there is anything I may do for you. I would love to extend my gratitude for the wonderful styling you have continued to do with my hair.”

The blonde smiled and she glanced at the floor, but she did not move to ask for anything. Instead she twiddled her thumbs and shifted her weight back and forth. Before anything else could be said, there was a knock at the door. Ser Eddrin stepped in and announced Princess Rhaenyra and the tradesmen. Maetilda watched her handmaid beam at her husband proudly as he tried his best to hide his blush under her gaze, his name was Syresso Stassys. The shoemaker was an older man, Dennas Shoer, and the dressmaker was a woman around Rhaenyra’s age, Josey Flowers. They all bowed to her with big grins, while Rhaenyra radiated anxiety. The future Queen refused to meet her stepdaughter’s eye. Immediately, the younger princess knew that she was in trouble. Her father was angry with her and she could tell by her stepmother’s demeanor. It made the hair on her arms and neck stand on edge.

“Good morning, everyone.” Maetilda greeted unsurely, “Thank you for braving the rains to come here.”

“Our pleasure, Princess.” Dennas assured.

“Let me get you a chair so we may begin.” Syresso grinned.

Soon, a chair was placed behind her so she could sit down without so much as taking another step. Noarysa began to massage her shoulders while the shoemaker grabbed a stool for her foot. The leathersmith pulled out a tape measure, charcoal, and parchment. As if they were old friends, Dennas and Syresso spoke numbers and units of measurement and construction techniques back and forth to each other like it were their own language. All the while, Adelyn poured Princess Rhaenyra a goblet of Maetilda’s tea from that morning. The Realm’s Delight accepted it and continued to ignore her step daughter.

“Stepmother, I must say. I am surprised and pleased you remembered what I had told you of my handmaid’s husband. Is there a reason father is suddenly having new things made for me?” Maetilda cautiously poked.

Rhaenyra’s shoulders stiffened before she finally turned to face the younger princess, “You certainly needed new riding boots, new ballroom shoes. You will be in need of new formal wear as well.”

“Formal wear?”

“Yes, your stepbrothers’ weddings and other affairs.”

The knife twisted in her gut again. Of course. All of her siblings were being wed off except for her. All of their futures and fates luxuriously secured except for hers. The younger princess tried to remain composed, “Are they all to wed soon?”

“Lucerys and Rhaena will wed first. Sooner if Corlys passes as expected.” Rhaenyra spoke gravely.

Maetilda nodded, “May the Gods grant him good health.”

“Yes, they have favored him thus far.”

After the shoemaker and leathersmith finished with their measurements, they bowed and collected their things. The princess was allowed to take her foot off the stool and the men exchanged information with the dressmaker in order to assure seamless collaboration between the garments. Syresso smiled to Noarysa as the two men said their goodbyes and left. The dressmaker remained. She had a satchel full of charcoals, parchment, swatches of fabric and more. The handmaids removed her housecoat, leaving her in her undergown and stays. She was instructed to stand on the stool. Each handmaid held one of her hands to help keep her stable.

“It is an honor to be making dresses for you, Princess. As I have said, my name is Josey Flowers. I have been making dresses for ladies at High Garden since I was a little girl. I hope you will enjoy what I create for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Flowers.”

“To start, you are a soft autumn. I shall stick with fabrics within those shades.” The woman scribbled words with her charcoals onto the parchment, “And you have quite beautiful shoulders and collarbones.”

The princess raised her eyebrow at the woman’s words. She did not expect such blunt compliments or descriptions of her body.

“I want to showcase that with some flattering necklines,” She began to sketch out a few different gowns, “The third one will be the most captivating with a wide boat neck. Perhaps off-the-shoulder, although that would be a bit scandalous for the Sept.”

“Do not be afraid to be scandalous, Miss Flowers. I would like to see Queen Alicent squirm,” Rhaenyra interjected.

“Off-the-shoulder it is. It shall be big and have a long train too.” Josey smiled smugly.

“I have had big gowns, but I don’t think I have ever had a gown with much of a train before.” Maetilda smiled.

“I will make it your most special gown, I assure you.” The dressmaker’s grin only grew, “What color are you thinking, your Grace? Red, ivory, perhaps bronze for her mother’s house?”

Rhaenyra answered quickly, “Make it black. Large red statements, bronze detailing.”

“Forgive the pushback, Princess. Black will not be her most flattering color.”

“While I trust and appreciate your knowledge, it must be black.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“I like it when my dresses are not too tight on my arms.” Maetilda perked up.

“How about the bust?” Josey inquired.

“Yes, it must be.” Rhaenyra answered, looking away.

Knots tied within the younger princess’s stomach. She had never seen her stepmother speak in such a way. Even when her father was mad. He must have been livid beyond reason. As soon as the dressmaker finished her measurements, she was permitted to leave. She curtsied with a lilted grin.

“Thank you again for the opportunity.”

The door clicked loudly behind her. Rhaenyra stood at her stepdaughter’s window with the goblet in hand. She sipped at it again before once again allowing herself to glance at Maetilda, “I shall see you at dinner tonight. Look your best.”

The future Queen left without sparing her another glance. The door clicking loudly behind her. The handmaids helped Maetilda down from the stool as they began to ready her for the day. She was tied into a soft coral dress, waist pocket secured underneath. The satin dress had a square neck and leg of mutton sleeves. She slipped on simple bronze and carnelian rings and necklaces. She reimagined her stepmother’s actions and movements over and over again in her head. Rhaenyra’s behavior had been downright unsettling. It had to have been Vaemond’s murder or the state of the King. Her stress wore on her face and shoulders. It was worrying to witness. Especially while the future Queen was expecting. After the princess-by-title was dressed, her handmaids left with a bow. Maetilda had been alone once again.

The rain continued to pour from the sky. In her solitude, the princess moved the chair she had gotten her feet measured in over to her balcony door. As she sat, she opened the doors to allow the humid air in. The wetness from outside misted in as well. Comfortably on her chair, she sat and watched it fall. She wondered if the Gods were sending a message. Such heavy rains after the death of a distinguished knight had to hold some sort of significance. Vaemond had fought alongside her father in the War for The Stepstones. As he said, he had dutifully looked after Driftmark for almost an entire decade as his uncle had continued to wage war at various sea ports. Perhaps the Gods were disagreeing with the King or voicing their discontent with her father. She couldn’t help the suspicion that nestled in the back of her head. Instead she thought of the stones in her waistpocket. She wondered if Ser Gunthor had filled Ser Eddrin in already. Certainly he had. Ser Eddrin would know their meaning and significance far better than either of them. She prayed the knight would have answers for her, but she found herself scared to ask him. It would make the whole scenario all the more real — a mystery person pursuing her through binding spells. In fact, a large part of her wondered if it had been the ghost of her nightmare attempting to bind her to the land she had crashed into. Ever since the Manderly son, not a single lord had gone out of their way to show interest in her. It was not about to start in the middle of the night. Not to mention, how difficult it would’ve been for the suspect to enter her chambers. Nothing added up.

Eventually her afternoon meal was served. Yet it served as no distraction. Shepherd’s pie, more fruits, and breads. All she could think of were the stones and who had put them under her pillow. Her left hand played with them idly in her lap as she ate. Who would truly think such a stunt would work? The leg of mutton sleeves on her gown itched at her underarms. She barely tasted the food as she tried to imagine someone sneaking in from over her balcony. They would have had to climb one of the Keep’s many towers in order to do so. A feat she had long considered impossible, but had increasingly begun to consider. Perhaps with an iron arrow, strong rope, and good aim, the climb would be more manageable. But there seemed to be nothing off about her balcony, no evidence of an iron arrow or other anchor. Surely, it would have made enough noise to wake her. Perhaps a sleeping potion in her knight’s dinner, and her knights were too afraid to admit their mistakes. But she had seen no symptoms. No grogginess, no fog inside the head. She was at a loss. After the servants took away her food, the princess decided to call her knight into her chambers. Ser Eddrin toed inside carefully before shutting the door behind him. The princess offered him a goblet of wine, which he dutifully declined. His eyes were narrow and focused. She could tell he knew why she called for him.

“Do you know anything more than Gunthor, Ser Eddrin?” She inquired bluntly.

He huffed frustratedly, “I know you carrying those damn rocks around with you has only made things worse, Princess. Ser Gunthor informed me last night. Should have gotten some spices, a bit of your hair and blood, and a black candle the minute you found them.”

Panicked by the thought of anything worsening, the princess dropped the stones on the ground and they scattered. The knight dove to the ground to collect them. Her breath quickened with anxiety as she thought about how much harm she had already unknowingly caused. If only she had known more about the magic of her mother’s home.

“Certainly it’s not too late. We can still gather all that!”

“I’ll collect them while you’re at dinner. We can try to unbind you this evening.” He conceded.

“Do you think it is too late?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Thank the Gods. We shall handle this ourselves. I do not want to cause a fuss. We are capable without the Crown, Ser Eddrin.”

“Whoever did this may try again. It was done with intention.”

“How do we find the culprit?”

“How precious of you, daughter, to be carrying out justice. Just as your father would. Perhaps I should be proud of you after all.” His voice was a distinct sneer, sounding from the other side of her chambers.

Her blood ran as cold as the Land of Always Winter. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She had not heard the chamber doors click. Neither had her knight. They had not heard his footsteps approach or enter. They both jumped with a startle as they turned to see her father. He stood in front of the floor to ceiling tapestry. It depicted a very high tower along the coast that sat atop distinct black rocks. The Hightower of Oldtown of which the Queen got her surname. Despite the towering image behind him, Prince Daemon looked menacing in his place. The princess swallowed the lump in her throat before she spoke.

“Thank you for your service, Ser Eddrin. You may return to your post.”

“Yes, Princess.” He croaked.

His armor squeaked as he stepped. The door creaked before softly clicking closed. All the while, Maetilda and her father held intense eye contact. Her breath shook as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her body itched with anticipation of what would come next. Would she run? Would she stand and take it? Would she cry for help?

“Do you know what you have done?” Daemon spoke lowly.

She tried to hide the shiver that ran down her spine, “I am sor—“

“Save your apologies. They will not change the whispers. You disgraced me in front of Court yesterday. You continue to disgrace me today.”

“I had never seen—“

The slap was hard and quick across her cheek. The force of it threw her to the side. Her entire cheek stung like thousands of needles. She cradled it with her hands as her eyes welled with tears. She felt her bottom lip tremble. She choked back any cries. He would only make it worse if she showed weakness. Targaryens were not weak. Especially not the women. He had drilled it into her from the time she was learning to read and write.

“You’re a thick-skulled little cunt, just like your mother, Maetilda.”

She bit on her lip so hard she could immediately taste the iron. She had drawn blood. She prayed it was not something that would be visible at dinner.

“Ever since you came along, every fat fuck in the kingdom has tried to take that castle from me. Think because you're a damn girl that they can have what’s mine. They look for every fucking excuse.”

Her heart pounded even harder in her chest, not knowing where his rant was leading. She prayed his slap would be the last of it, but his words continued.

“And you make it no fucking better!”

His growl was one sent straight from the Stranger as he grabbed a fist full of her cascading waves. She could not help the yelp of pain that escaped as the sting in her cheek transferred to her scalp. By his fist full of hair, he led her onto her wet balcony. The rain sprinkled their cheeks not quite as strong as it would have been in the morning. Her father tightened the grip on her hair. He forced her to look out at the bay. She could feel him pressed up against her back. The feeling was anything but a comfort. His breaths were shallow in her ear as he barely held back his rage.

“You see all that water? Those crashing waves? How deep it goes down? All sorts of unspeakable, bastardly monsters lurk below. And to think, I almost threw you out there as a babe when we flew dragonback… but I didn’t.” He spat, “I want you to know that.”

The princess nearly gagged as her stomach dropped. All breath escaped her lungs. She could almost see herself being thrown from the balcony already. There was no need to ask herself if he was being truthful, she already knew he was. There would be no reason to lie about such dark thoughts.

“I have shown you nothing but mercy, and you have repaid me with humiliation.” He seethed.

All she could think to do was nod in agreement. Anything to get it to stop, to go inside and crawl under her bed covers. The raindrops did well to disguise the few tears that had escaped. Her entire body trembled. His chest against her back made her skin crawl. She fought the urge to visibly cringe away from him.

“Of course, so pathetic.” He laughed dryly.

“I try my best!” She choked out.

He chuckled harder before shoving her back into her room by her hair. The warmth of the room felt better on her skin than the rain, but she would not be able to relax. With a hard push, she was thrown on the chaise. She scrambled to turn onto her back so that she could see him. His demonic face. Just like the cloaked figure from her nightmares, he loomed over her — effectively paralyzing her. Except at that moment, unlike in her dreams, she could actually move her mouth. She could scream for help if she wanted to. If someone would actually come.

“Please, father. We have dinner soon.”

He glared down at her as he straightened his surcoat. Once he was perfectly manicured again, he scoffed, “Yes, you need time, ugly girl. Shame you don’t favor your sisters.”

“Yes, father. I am cursed to look like you.” The words slipped out as soon as they came to her mind.

“You are a leech.” He spat at her feet before promptly departing, “‘Best watch yourself.”

The door clicked behind him unceremoniously. If she had not already been sat in the chaise, she would have collapsed on the ground. Silent sobs beat through her body like a maid cleaning a rug. Suddenly, she had felt the same as all those insects Helaena would embroider for her — small and insignificant in comparison to any leather boot. All of her suspicions had been confirmed, he was going to hold her hostage forever. She would be known to history as the Spinster of Runestone or the Rogue Prince’s Mad Daughter. They would laugh at her across the Realm as the bards wrote songs of her ignominy. The shame and despair tightened her chest like a manual crank. As she fought to breathe, an odd numbness began to spread throughout her organs. The realization that she was doomed either way, forcing her to resign to defeat. There was no one that could save her from her own father.

A/N: some more toxic daemon to stir the pot, he is not done throwing his tantrums yet. but i promise there will be an outcome to it all.

thank you to @imsoshygirl for your comment!! i’m so glad you like my series, it literally means the world to me.

i would like to apologize to @snh96 i just recently saw that you had commented and asked me to tag you. i will tag you moving forward!! i promise i’m not a boomer, i just haven’t used tumblr in years <3

xoxo messy

[rufflesandbows]

In the Den of Dragons (Part III)

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

The month is dwindling away faster than you can keep track with your head in the clouds. As you enjoy your time with Aegon, you are still required to humor Barston with a once a week date. Normally it doesn't go well. However, a surprise visitor crashes the date, alleviating your headache, and sparking your envy.

Warnings: Misogyny, old timey views, inappropriate language Word Count: 4000

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Two weeks had gone by so fast. All your mind was consumed with two things: the marriage and Aegon. 

Others found it charming how you and the prince had become such friends. The vulnerability you had shown must have triggered some glimmer of a conscience in him. How pure a concept. What a miracle. You were often speaking with one another now, Aegon requesting you to where he was so he might amuse you on whatever was happening. No one seemed to have any inkling of what was truly happening when you managed to be alone with him, behind a closed door. You hoped. The Queen had gone back to ignoring you at least.

He won’t ever love you. Sir Erryk once warned, very quietly in the deep night. He was the only one who knew the truth in it’s entirety, but was sworn to Aegon’s secrets. Those secrets included you. You politely responded I’ll be leaving soon. What we do here won’t matter then, will it?

Erryk gave you a look, a cross of pity and warning, but said no more. 

Lunch today was set up for another date with Barston. You nearly slapped the medicine from his maestor you were in such a foul mood, entirely brought on by the very thought of being in the same room as the Clay Keeper. The last two, as the first, had been utterly insufferable. Your father was supposed to arrive in King’s Landing soon, and he was going to get the lecture of a lifetime. 

In the meantime, you slipped into Aegon’s room earlier in the morning than usual. The only way to ease the sharp knot forming in your skull.

He’d left the Keep maybe a total of four times since the liaisons had begun. Each time you were tense through the night. Caught between jealousy and chiding yourself for being jealous. He wasn’t yours to keep. And he was Aegon. What were you thinking imagining he’d have any sort of loyalty to you? You were not special to him. 

When he’d leave, he always came back with the scent of his adventures clinging to him. Be that in a high end brothel or low. In a bar or in the gutters. You could recount his time in the night you became so familiar with them through him.

Quietly approaching, careful not to wake him, you leaned over Aegon and could smell the incense mixed with wine, a bit of perfume and not much else. It seemed that when he left, he’d only gone to catch up with friends, likely with a woman presented on his lap. Perhaps they did a little more than sit and talk, but the little relief you felt made you smile.

You crawled on the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Another on his jaw. When you kissed his neck, Aegon gave a hum as he lightly shifted. You moved on top of him, his hands naturally falling on your waist as you kissed down his collar, a smile growing on him. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”

You started working your way back up, softly admitting by his ear, “I missed you.”

“I’ll have to take you with me next time. You might of enjoyed the show.” Aegon cupped the back of your neck as you drew close, turning in to kiss your lips. Just as quickly he snapped back with a grimace, “Oh! You taste awful!”

You took back, defensive despite knowing your mouth and every little bubble up your throat was coated in that vile decoction. “I had breakfast! You can still taste it?”

“Did you drink aged milk with your breakfast?”

You grumbled miserably, “No.” Dropping your cheek to his chest as obviously he wasn’t going to want to kiss you now. Disappointed, you curled up around him, arms and legs hugging him tightly and you got comfortable. Resting there and savoring his heat before you were to face Barston.

Aegon slowly grew tense. His hands on you tapping anxiously. You found he often got awkward after a while of your insistent cuddling. As if there was a specified time limit one should hold another. He had to find some way to escape your strange behavior. “So… what chores are you supposed to be doing?”

You scoffed. “Preparing your bath.” That was going to be something you wouldn’t miss in leaving. Pampering fully grown and capable adults as if they were children.

“Are the others behind the door or-”

“I told them to stick to their regular chores. I wanted to spend some time with you before… you know.”

“Ah. One of those days, huh?” You nodded, as well felt his legs growing restless under you. “Probably wouldn’t want to see him smelling of me.”

You lifted your head to look at him, how innocently he looked back as if he wasn’t making all this awkward. In spite of his ways, you carried a sense of teasing. “What’s the rush? Why do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t want you to leave! It’s just… I don’t know,” He grabbed your hips and moved them over his, pressing with eagerness yet he wasn’t even roused. “feels like we should be doing something at least.”

You glanced down at your connected bodies. “I’m holding you.”

“Y-yeah.”

“I like holding you. It makes me feel better.” Those big eyes of his looked around, down as if he was just made aware you were on top of him. It seemed all words were lost, looking to you for some sort of confirmation. You started pulling back, “My prince, if you don’t like it-”

“No-no! I do! I do like it!” In a rush he caught you, leaving you to straddle his lap, his hands roughly gripping your waist as if you might be stolen at any second. Amused by your cheeky ploy, he chuckled, slowly relaxing. “Usually people get a decent fuck in and can’t wait to leave the room once it’s done.” 

“More customers means more money.” You shrugged. Yet the light in his eyes faded, glancing to the rest of his room with little joy to be had. You could ask him, but you worried he might shy away. Selfishly, you had come here to lift spirits, not dampen them. Reality was going to flay you alive on your wedding night, the least the world could do was let you hover above it until then. “Maybe you should invest in a small pet.”

He raised a brow to you, a sharp smile returning to him, his hands roaming your body. “Maybe I’ll make you my pet.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, Aegon sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, suddenly very comfortable with just touching. “You think you wouldn’t like that? I’d get you everything you could desire. The finest dresses and the most glittering jewels. I could make you happy.”

You brushed his long bangs back and cupped his soft cheeks. “You already make me happy.”

Aegon gripped you tighter, the smile on him timid, a unique sight on him. He dropped his head on your chest, his arms holding you tight as he nuzzled into you. You enjoyed being held so tightly, holding him back and savoring the silence of it. After a long beat of being wrapped up in you, you heard Aegon through muffled words, “You really think you can convince your father to drop the marriage?”

“I don’t understand how he ever accepted.” You bitterly huffed. But you tried to relax yourself, combing through his silver hair and reminiscing out loud. “He trusted my council before my arrival here, he still should.”

“It’s been a year.”

“But I came here to learn more of politicking and the state of things. So I might return with a plan of raising our status and our wealth back to what it was, with the allies to support it. It would be ridiculous for him to have forgotten that.”

“And yet he’s matched you with a man who shouldn’t be matched with anybody.” When only silence returned and your hands stopped moving, he tried to pet down your rush of anxiety, moving so he could speak more clearly. “I just don’t know if you should have your hopes so high. You don’t know what’s going to happen when he gets here or what’s changed in a year.” 

“My father will listen to me.” You assured yourself more than Aegon. “He’s just been listening to the wrong people since I left. Or worse, listening to himself. I’ve always brought him to reason before.” A stirring behind the door made you jump, looking over your shoulder. You had hoped by coming to Aegon, you’d relax. Now you wanted to drag him away and hide from the world for the rest of your days, pretend like none of your situation existed.

“I best call for the others.” You reached out, running your fingers along his jaw until he looked up at you with those big pretty eyes of his, making you smile. Hesitantly, he returned it. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

~~~

“What is this talk you went bawling to the prince about your marriage?”

You nearly burst with a sardonic laughter. He was just hearing about it now? With clenched teeth, you were grateful for sitting far across the table from Barston. His skin leathery and peeling dry from the sun, yet somehow he’d not obtained any tan. Just a permanent burn, pink red like wine stained on white cloth. His brow was so low you could hardly see his spiteful eyes, of which matched his thin bitter frown splendidly. Despite his lacking choice in apparel, he was enjoying the luxuries of the Keep and Kings Landing with ease. At lunch he always demanded it be a full table, and picked at it endlessly yet it seemed to contribute to his strength and towering height rather than any gaining of weight. Not once did he make an offer to you or ask what you might like. Such things were irrelevant. With a controlled sigh, you spoke politely. “I, admittedly, felt quite a bit of shock over the announcement and-”

“Why should you be shocked?” He grunted, guzzling on honeyed dates one after the other. “You were always bound to be married off. If anything you should have been preparing for the day since you were born. Marrying a lord and fathering his heirs is your greatest purpose. What is to fear of that?”

“I have been waiting on the day, of course-”

“Have you been taking your medicine?”

You rolled your jaw to ease the tension in it. “I have, yes. But you had asked me about the prince-”

“I don’t want you wearing white or green on your wedding gown.” 

“... they are my house colors.” The sage green willow on a crisp white field. There were once rumors of the ancient willows whispering to your family. Gathering secrets on their leaves that your ancestors used to gain great advantages. Cleverness had once been a big trait of your house. Once. It had been well over a century since someone in your family had done something truly impressive to be remembered by. Not like the ancestors that traveled the world and returned with great fortunes and beautiful paramours. The first Master of Whispers, named by Aegon the Conqueror himself for his political prowess. Even a mythical tale that they tricked creatures made of ice into returning stolen children.

That was all far in the past. Your house had since lost most of its wealth and respect over the decades. Stolen by a repeat of poor leadership.

Barston grunted, “It clashes something awful with reds and browns of mine.” 

Nonsense. You could make it work just fine. He just wanted to strip you of anything familiar. Make you forget you were more than his belonging. “I was not aware you were so adept with fashion.”

He stopped eating to glare at you. Yet it was difficult to tell since he was always glaring. His tone however, had dropped to a threatening gravel. “Don’t get cheeky with me, girl.”

“I was paying you a compliment-” 

“I can taste the venom on your tongue from here.” Unable to deny it, you remained silent. “I’ll not stand for any backtalk from my wife. Don’t think I won’t have you whipped.”

You remained silent as the heat of your anger thrashed inside. So violently you wanted to react. To set the table on fire, crack the stone beneath your feet and send the entire Keep crumbling on top of him. Yet you dug your nails into your palm and stared at your crumb ridden plate. Once you were able to wrestle back the hot tears of frustration, you asked, “When will my father be arriving?”

“Soon, I imagine. Must have been delayed, or side tracked.” He grunted. “It won’t change anything. You women think you can twist your tongues and make men bow to your whims. My money is worth far more than your words, girl. Remember that.”

“Worry not, Lord Barston. I remember everything you say.” You sneered. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” A far too cheery and familiar voice came. You almost felt like you were losing your mind as Aegon smiled at you and took an open seat beside Barston. 

The old man sat up straight, trying to put on an air of dignity. “Not at all, prince Aegon. Your presence is always welcome. Please, have whatever you like.”

A brow on Aegon jumped as he look at you, his smile broadening as he was in on the joke. He could at least be subtle. Barston wasn’t a complete idiot. Lightening up you gave him a forced smile. “There is plenty to go around, my prince.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He reached in and grabbed a ripe peach. “I just wanted to see how the happy couple was doing, and congratulate you on your upcoming union.” He motioned to Barton, “Will you be having a grand show of it? Or a tourney perhaps?”   

As he took a large bite of the peach, you bite your lips. How long you went off to Aegon about Barston wanting to just whisk you away back to his mud hut. Not even giving you the courtesy of fine gifts and praise for a single day. Surely that would boost your ego too far to be treated as a proper woman for even a single day. 

Barston looked at you, sensing your disapproval. You didn’t say anything and let your soon to be husband explain himself. This man who so easily berated you, suddenly too stiff to move and speaking carefully.

“Uh, no. Much as it is a special occasion, I must be returning by the end of the month. The Reedmarsh has been without its Lord for too long already.” It was nice to see Barston finally behaving himself. See him a little shook up, a little uncertain. A wonder then how he’d feel about your familiarity with those he trembled before. 

Aegon was being a bit noisy in his eating of the peach. You weren’t thinking anything of it until you glanced at him, just to see he was looking directly at you as he sucked and licked at the soft fruit. You were amused as he was trying to be sensual and clearly aimed to arouse you, but really he was just making a sticky mess of himself. Fighting back a smile, you asked, “Aegon, what are you doing?”

He shrugged innocently, his mouth half full. “I’m eating.”

“You’re being quite the tramp about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Barston flinch in shock, his mouth slightly agape and for the first time, you saw he had green hazel eyes. Aegon gave you a pout, setting the mauled peach on his plate. “I was trying to impress you.”

You chuckled, “I’ll say, that peach is thoroughly ravaged.” Honestly, watching him nonchalantly lick up and clean his fingers had far more of an effect on you. It was a more familiar sight, making your face heat at the memories of only a few nights before. The scene had the added benefit of seeing Barston utterly appalled and helplessly silent. You steepled your fingers and rested your chin on them, leaning closer to Aegon as you teased him, “You know, I heard a rumor just before lunch that you acquired quite a large debt from gambling last night.”

As his thumb slipped from his lips, he became awkward and looked away from you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I heard your mother was quite… livid, is the polite word.” He made a stressed expression, unable to even look at the table. “You wouldn’t be joining us just to hide from her, would you? Hm? Is the prince of the Realm a craven?”

Barston made a very audible choking sound, his knuckles white on the table, pressing so hard you were surprised the wood didn’t crack. His face was more red than you’d ever seen it before, a deep red tomato standing out on his brown attire. “How can you speak-”

“Call me a craven all you want, my mother is ferocious when angered.” Aegon was sat lower in his seat, ankle resting on his knee, having brushed off your accusation with ease, now chewing at his nail.

Much as everyone would doubt, you knew Queen Alicent would try to be strict with him, and that it served little purpose. It only pushed Aegon to leave the Keep for longer and indulge deeper and darker vices. If things weren’t smoothed over between them, you might not see Aegon for the next two weeks. Not until you were long gone to Reedmarsh, never to return. You thought a moment before coming up with a plan. “Stop me if I am too bold, but what I would do is go back to my princely room. Get a sizable and ornate box and fill it with gold, silver and gems. You have a plethora of old gifts collecting dust, I’m sure that won’t be difficult. I’d take that box and preferably offer it on the high council, but if I couldn’t make a formal presentation, I’d take it to Lord Beesbury. I would say, I feel awful about the debt, and I wish to give a donation to cover the expenses. He’ll politely take enough to cover the debt, and try to give back the rest. I’d refuse. I’d push it back and insist this is a donation. I’ve taken far more than the most recent debt in the past. This is compensation.”

Barston leaned over the table, seething at you between clenched teeth. “That is too bold. You speak of conspiracy.”

You let out a high gawk of surprise. “Conspiracy? No one is getting hurt or deposed. In fact it adds to the crowns revenue!”

“You speak of manipulating the Queen.” He said. A quiet air of threat as if the guards would spring at any moment and drag you both to the dungeons. Aegon kept a watchful eye at the new couple already bitterly snapping at one another.

“How is paying for his own debt and gifting a surplus a manipulation!?”

“It is your intentions. They are not genuine nor honorable.” Barston was trembling to restrain himself. He wanted so badly to openly scream and berate you, slam his fist on the table or throw it to the ground entirely. But he wouldn’t while royalty sat next to him.

How the Gods damned you. What a pleasure it would be to live as royalty. 

“What matters is what is written down. The intention will be irrelevant when it has a very real and even helpful impact. The trinkets are of no worth to the prince, but they will have great worth to the crown and the smallfolk.” You turned to Aegon, “It would be better than showing up with nothing.”

He gave a nod and a reluctant frown before rising to his feet. “Very well. I better find a way to sneak back to my room before Sir Erryk finds me. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, my lady.” 

As he walked by, he reached out and quickly drug his fingers, still soaking wet and sticky from the peach and his failed attempt at cleaning them along your cheek. “Ah! Aegon!”

He laughed as he quickly walked away, flashing you a bright smile as you quickly grabbed your napkin and started wiping down your face. A small giggle slipped through your lips. Once Aegon was out of earshot, Barston slammed his fist on the table, making everything jump. “How can you speak to the Prince so formally? Have you no respect of rank!? Are you such a spoiled and arrogant-”

“The Prince Aegon prefers natural conversation.” You said simply, still trying to scrub the stickiness off your face. “He finds people who are too formal fake and annoying. His words, not mine.”

Barston was huffing through his nose he was so worked up. Yet he didn’t say anything. Slowly, he sat back, looking between you and where Aegon had left to. “I did not expect you to be so close to the Prince.”

Such a sentence could be interpreted in a few ways. You weren’t sure if he knew of Aegon’s reputation, but you knew Barston as prideful as he was suspicious. When your father finally came to Kings Landing, you wouldn’t have to bother knowing anything about him again. “I have been living in the Red Keep for a year. I bathe his little ones and give his wife company. I bring his mother breakfast and wash her dresses. It should be no surprise I am close with the Royal family.”

You stared one another down hard, the meal holding all the gravity of a battlefield awaiting action. “You may go.” He said. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

With a polite bow, you left, positively glowing. A nice change from leaving these dates. Feeling uppity through the rest of your chores. When it came time to deliver Aegon his nightly wine, the moment the door shut and you set the decanter down on the table, you were warmly embraced from behind. 

“You are a gift from the Gods, you know that?”

You chuckled, pouring a cup as Aegon buried himself against your neck, sending all the hair to rise as he peppered kisses there. “All went well then?”

“Her temper cooled as soon as I set down the box.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, staring off rather than taking his cup. “She even said she was proud of me for taking responsibility for my actions.”

“Must have been nice to hear.”

He was silent as thoughts you were not privy to danced in his eyes. You were patient, content with just seeing him. There was a tick in his gaze and everything shifted. Aegon pulled back enough to turn you around in his arms, a sultry lilt in his voice. “For your efforts, there should be a talk of your reward...”

“Reward?” You said innocently. “I need no reward. I only wish to serve my kingdom as best I can.”

Aegon didn’t by it. He gave you a nod and pulled back completely, taking his cup of wine with him. “Alright then. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t hide the pout on you even if you tried. “What?”

“Oh? What?” He mocked your surprise, relaxing on his bed and sipping his drink. “Maybe you do want a reward? Hm? Maybe you do want me up your skirts? You want my hands on you? You want my mouth on your cunt?”

You should be used to his brazen filthy talk by now, but still you felt your cheeks heat, took a very coy stance in swaying your skirts. “I wouldn’t dare ask for something so specific but if that’s what you want to do, it would be awfully rude of me to refuse a gift from the prince.”

“What a sweet girl you are.” He reached out to you and you eagerly jumped onto the bed, Aegon nearly spilling his drink as you enveloped him completely. Giggles filling the room before you kissed him, this time without him grimacing at the taste of the medicine.

(Part 4)

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Satoru Gojo [ch.05]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: 18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, mention of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, character death, nightmares

words: 5,2k

Notes: enjoy this last chapter, just know that the epilogue still needs to happen 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Your gaze was on the window, you had barely moved a muscle since the sun had risen. But it had been like that since your father read that letter. You didn't know how much time had passed, you had stopped counting, the only thing you knew was that summer was coming to an end. Was it September? You didn't know, nothing mattered to you anymore.

You knew Rose was in the room, despite everything she still came and took care of you. Every morning she was there, trying to cheer you up and make you smile again, to pick up one of your books, to go to the market with her.

The only time you got out of your bedroom was when Mr. Harrison visited. You felt nauseous when seeing him and when he talked about how excited he was to take you with him to his house and finally have an heir. You felt sick to your stomach, but you stood there in silence, feeling how your heart didn’t beat anymore.

“My lady…” Rose whispered. “You need to take the herbs.”

You turned your head and looked at Rose. “Don't you think that if there was a baby, that baby is no longer there?”

Rose grimaced and sat up on the bed. “I don't know, my lady. But your mother insists that she keep drinking it until you bleed again.” You just nodded and took the glass from her hands.

You felt the bitter taste pass through your throat and the unpleasant smell invade your nostrils. It was so unpleasant that your eyes watered and a gag shot up your throat. You closed your eyes tightly and swallowed.

“I know you don't want to hear this…” Rose whispered. “But the wedding is in three days.”

“You won’t come with me right.” You raised your knees and rested your forehead on them.

“No, my lady.” You could notice the anguish and sadness in her tone. “Mr. Harrison doesn't want anyone from the house to accompany you, he will provide you with maids in his house."

You closed your eyes and nodded. “You can leave now Rose.”

“My lady… please eat something.” She said walking towards the door.

You heard the door open and then close. You sighed heavily and lay back down on the bed, looking again at the blue sky outside. No matter how much you thought about Satoru, you had a hard time believing, you had a hard time accepting that everything had been a hoax. That you had been manipulated by him.

Maybe it was the fault of your heart, the fault of falling in love the way you did for that man with white hair and crystalline eyes. Maybe it was all your fault and you should never have given him your heart the way you gave it to him.

But his voice and his words echoed in your head.

Trust me.

We will live in a house by the sea, you will have your own library.

I don’t plan on hurting you.

His memory was fresh in your mind and the pain was intense.

You rolled over yourself and you cowered between the sheets, mulling over the matter. The letter talked about some documents, something about the nobles. Satoru told you about it, how your family and a few others had refused the king's reform proposal 20 years ago and had paid for it. And some time later Satoru's parents had been murdered and Satoru's brother had spent his entire life investigating to clarify the facts and they had taken him to your family.

There was something that didn't quite fit you in that whole matter and that is, if Satoru was thinking of betraying you from the beginning, why did he tell you the plan he had in the middle? Maybe he thought you were going to be extremely stupid not to say anything.

You shook your head and tried to remember the last encounter between the two of you.

“I told you.” He said with a smile. “Before you finish your second book I will be back.”

“I trust you.” You whispered.

“Just… believe me.”

Were those promises empty? You stood up from the bed and walked around your room, feeling your body aching and heavy.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru knew something was happening. And that’s why he looked like that the last time you saw him.

Covering yourself with a thin jacket, you left the room and walked looking for a specific figure. If Rose was your most trusted person in that house, that person was the second most trusted.

When your eyes met his straight figure and his gaze looking straight ahead, you smiled and approached him.

“Nanami.” You whispered causing his head to turn in your direction.

“My lady.” He said, bowing his head subtly to show her respect.

“Nanami, I need your help. But first walk me to my room.” You turned around. “I don't want anyone to hear us.” You walked, feeling Nanami's footsteps on your back.

When you got to your room, you made sure that no one was in the hallway and you closed the door. You walked to the couch and looked at Nanami.

"I need you to do me a favor." Nanami nodded slightly. “I have a feeling that something happened to Duke Gojo and I would like you to check it out. You and Rose are the people I trust the most, which is why I want to entrust you with this mission.”

“I will gladly do it my lady.” He said bowing.

“But before you leave, my parents are gone, right?” Nanami nodded and you felt your heart accelerate at the idea that had been established in your mind. “I need you to accompany me to my father's office and watch the door while I look for something.”

“No problem my lady.” You smiled and thanked him.

Waiting for a while to pass, you and Nanami left the room, trying not to be seen by any curious eyes. As you stood in front of the door of your father's office, you felt your heart pound and your nerves begin to attack your body. You took a breath and looked at Nanami, who nodded giving you the signal to enter.

Nanami stayed outside, keeping watch and preventing anyone else from entering. You moved through the room quietly and carefully, and among the pile of papers and letters that were on the desk you began to search and read, wanting to find something, some clue that would indicate that Satoru had not lied to you, that there was something more behind all that.

You found two letters that caught your attention, one of them had a stamp that you didn't recognize and the other was a letter addressed to your parents. It was a letter from one of the servants informing your parents about how you had been having premarital relations with the duke. You crumpled the letter slightly and sighed, there was nothing you could do about it now.

You took the letter with the unknown seal and began to read, the letter was addressed to your parents and talked about the crown prince and how to change the balance in favor of the person who sent the letter.

“My lady.” Nanami called you. “I think it’s better if we leave.” You nodded.

With that letter in your hands, you left the office followed by Nanami's steps. You felt your heart racing, that letter could mean something. You knew that Satoru was a friend of the crown prince and that your parents had not disagreed with the king's reforms, so this could mean something. But that seal, you didn't know which house it belonged to, nor were the names known.

“Nanami.” You called him when you got to the room and, uncrumpling the letter, you showed it to him. “Do you know this seal?”

You could see how Nanami was stunned looking at the letter. “Was this in his father's office?” You nodded confused. “My lady, if this letter is found by the palace, the entire family will be condemned for treason.”

You opened your eyes surprised. "What? What do you mean?" Nanami sighed and pointed to the seal.

“The seal belongs to the king's brother, that is, to the uncle of the future king.” You looked at him confused, you had never heard of the current king having a brother. “You are young to remember, but the king had a little brother. He was sent into exile after he tried to assassinate the prince. The king took pity on him and did not kill him, he simply exiled him.” You opened your mouth in surprise.

“Did this person have anything to do with the event 20 years ago? Where several noble families opposed the king?” Nanami nodded and you sighed. “Nanami, I fear that the duke knew about this and that something has happened to him.” You looked at him. “Please find out.” Nanami nodded once again.

“I will leave right now my lady.” He bowed his head and left your room.

When the door closed and you were alone in your room again, you sat on your bed and put your hands to your face, terrified to think that something could have happened to Satoru and that your parents knew about it.

It was terrifying to think that Satoru could be… No, no. You shook those thoughts out of your head and tried to think positively. That Satoru hadn't betrayed you and that he would be fine. You just needed Nanami to return and confirm all your suspicions. And you prayed that this would happen before the wedding that would take place in three days.

Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling, the night darken the room and the accumulated fatigue that you were carrying covered you peacefully. But it was not like that. That night you couldn't rest.

Nightmares tormented you. The image of a dead Satoru haunted you throughout the night, reflecting in your tired eyes every time you closed them. The dreams were vivid and unrelenting, showing you scenes of Satoru lying lifeless, his once vibrant presence reduced to an eerie stillness. You saw his bright blue eyes, usually full of mischief and warmth, now dull and empty. You watched as the confident smile faded, replaced by an expression of eternal peace that brought you no comfort.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around your legs as you struggled to find a way out of the nightmare. Every time you woke up suddenly, your heart would race and your breathing would be difficult. The silence of the room was oppressive and the darkness suffocating, leaving you gasping for air with every breath you tried to take.

You shifted between the sheets when the first rays of the sun began to penetrate through the curtains. A new day began and in your mind and heart there was only the anguish of knowing Satoru's whereabouts and condition. You got out of bed and opened the window, letting the breeze fill the room and the smell of the sea occupy your nostrils.

“My lady?” Rose entered the room with a surprise look on her face.

“Rose…” You smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“My lady, how are you feeling?” She approached you and held your hands with care.

“I am…” You sighed. Not knowing what to respond.

“It’s okay my lady.” She tried to calm you down.

You sat down on your dresser and looked at her through the mirror. “I send Nanami to investigate the whereabouts of the duke.” Rose looked at you, intrigued to know more. “Rose, I think something happened to the duke and I think my parents have been involved.”

Rose swallowed and opened her eyes slightly. “My lady, are you sure?”

You nodded and clenched your fists. “If it's true... and what they did is discovered, the palace will kill us.”

“My lady”

“Rose, we must find some way to leave this place before the wedding, if Nanami does not arrive with news before.”

Rose nodded. “I will be with you my lady.”

You felt your chest fill and your eyes water as you realized you weren't alone. “Thank you Rose, thank you.”

“No problem my lady.” She gave you a warm smile. “But my lady…” You looked at her. “Your parents and Mr. Harrison will be arriving today.”

You sighed. “Alright.”

The morning and part of the afternoon passed faster than you would have liked. Anguish and uncertainty had established themselves in your body, they almost seemed like an extension of you, one that was dragging you down. Your hands were sweaty and your heart rate was fast, having to meet your parents and Mr. Harrison was like putting a noose around you. You were afraid but you wanted to be brave, even if it was for once in your life, you didn't want to tremble.

The carriage carrying your parents and Mr.Harrison arrived and now you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Rose brushed your hair. Your gaze was fixed on your face but at the same time not, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying to find something so that the wedding would be delayed or canceled.

“My lady…” Rose whispered as she let the brush down. “I have an idea that might help us win some time.”

You looked up and looked at Rose through the mirror. "Tell me." Rose leaned close to your ear and whispered her idea to you.

It was crazy but it would be a shock and Mr. Harrison would even want to cancel the wedding. You lightly laughed and looked at Rose.

"Thank you."

“I am here for you my lady.”

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed candlelight. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

You looked out the window and saw how the sun was setting in the sea. You took a deep breath and stood up from the chair. The room was beginning to be illuminated only by the specifically placed chandeliers. Asking Rose to wait for you in the room, you left and walked through the hallways, feeling your legs give out with every step you took.

The room was filled with the faint smell of old books and ink, a testament to the countless hours spent here studying and negotiating.

Your parents sat on the side of the desk, their expressions a mix of expectation and concern. Mr. Harrison was standing by the window, his back to you as he watched the darkening night. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of the impending conversation pressing down on you.

“Just two more days and we will all be family.” Your father proudly smiled.

“Yeah.” Mr. Harrison proudly sat on the chair. “Hopefully a baby will also come soon.” He looked at you and you felt nauseous.

You took a deep breath and stood up in your seat, trying to show a little confidence and strength. “Father, mother, my hand has already been asked for by another man.” You spoke without showing any hint of tremor.

You knew that talking about this in front of Mr. Harrison was not the right thing to do but you had to find some way to escape from this or the wedding would be delayed.

Your mother ground her teeth and said your name in a harsh, cutting tone. "Shut up."

“Darling.” Mr. Harrison called you, with that nickname that ok his lips sounded so disgusting. “Duke Gojo only came here and used you. You really want to marry that boy?”

You clenched your fists and clenched your teeth as you looked at the cynical smile that had spread across his face. Your blood boiled as the atmosphere in the office became increasingly overwhelming and cutting.

You wanted to get out of there but you couldn't, you had to delay that wedding. Or else, in two days you would be damned forever.

“Honey.” Your father spoke, with that false tone that you had already gotten used to hearing. “Mr. Harrison is right, don't you think about the damage that boy has done to us?”

Looking at him you wanted to laugh out of anger and ask your parents if they knew the damage they had caused to you for years and that Satoru had been the only one who had managed to make you feel alive.

Filling your lungs with air you spoke or rather screamed. “But daddy I love him!”

It had been years since you stopped calling your father that, but you knew that if you threw a tantrum in the middle of that place, your parents would be embarrassed and maybe, with luck, Mr. Harrison would put the wedding on hold.

You looked at their faces and could see how your mother was red with rage and your father clenched his teeth tightly.

“Well darling.” Mr. Harrison spoke, cutting the tension in the air. “I’m sure you will grow to love me too.”

You bit your lip and the crazy idea that Rose had proposed crossed your mind. What else could you lose?

“I’m having his baby!” You said out loud.

“What?!” Your mother and father screamed with speechless looks on their faces.

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Mr. Harrison, who had his mouth slightly open and his face, like your parents', was a poem.

“This…” Mr. Harrison began and slightly smirked. “This is humiliating.” He turned to look at your father. “Did you know?”

“Mr. Harrison, I…” Your father stuttered trying to find some words, but they all got stuck in his throat.

“You stupid bitch.” Your mother approached you and held your arm tightly, you narrowed your eyes, feeling his nails dig into your skin. "Didn't you take the herbs that the doctor prepared for you?"

“Yes mother, apparently they didn’t work.” You smirked.

“You stupid bitch.” She slapped you and your head turned to the side, leaving you breathless.

Stunned by the slap heard how your father tried to reason with Mr. Harrison and how your mother also joined in.

They weren’t hiding anything anymore, how that marriage was going to bring them a large amount of money and how Mr. Harrison was also going to support the king’s brother's return. You smile when you hear those words, it was the confirmation you needed that those letters were real and that most likely there were more.

You left the room and practically ran to your room. Your heart was thundering in your ears and your head hurt from the enormous pressure you felt. It was almost like you were going to pass out before you could get to your room.

Holding onto the doorknob you entered your room and leaned your forehead against the door once you closed it. Trying to make your heart calm down and air return to your lungs.

“My lady…” You heard Rose approaching you from behind.

“Rose I need a minute, but…” You began to talk.

“My lady.” You froze and turned yourself to look at the man that just talked.

“Nanami!” You said breathless and looking at him.

“My lady.” He looked at you, then at Rose and then back at you. He took a deep breath and then you heard his words. “Your suspicions about him were correct, Duke Gojo had an accident when he was heading back here. His carriage failed and he fell down a hillside, all I know is that the Duke is currently under the care of His Majesty the Crown Prince. But I don't know his condition."

When your father read Satoru's supposed letter your heart stopped, but at that same moment you felt like your heart was falling out of your chest. Your breathing accelerated and you began to feel your eyes stinging because of the tears that were accumulating.

“My lady.” Rose caught you when your legs gave out. “My lady, you need to breathe.”

We tried but it was like a foot was pressing on your chest and sinking you into the ground. You held Rose's hands and tried to speak. “We need to go…”

Rose looked at Nanami and they both nodded. “We will leave here as soon as possible, my lady.”

“The letter…” You whispered.

You had to take the letter with you and give it to the king or someone from the palace, you knew that this would mean the death of your parents but those two people were no longer your parents and you wanted to see them sink.

Rose grabbed your arm and the three of you left the room, heading towards the stable. You still felt your emotions on the surface, at any moment you felt like you would break but you shouldn't. You had to stay strong and leave that place and send that letter.

Taking the reins of your horse you raised your gaze and fixed it in front of you. Sighing heavily, you signaled to Nanami, telling him to leave.

Your body was so exhausted that you practically didn't remember much of the trip. You remember stopping to pick up Rose's husband, you remember Nanami telling you to ride with him, and you remember arriving at a lodge where you spent the night, but other than that, your memories were vague and confusing.

When you opened your eyes, you blinked repeatedly, taking in the light that filtered through that window. Rose was still asleep in the bed next to her. Sitting up carefully and quietly, you changed your clothes and left the room, meeting Nanami's figure guarding the door.

“Nanami.” You spoke with your voice still sleepy.

“My lady.” He greeted you with the same courtesy as always.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You don't need to continue behaving like this Nanami, I don't belong to that family anymore.” You smiled at him. “But my last proposal as your lady is that you accompany me to her majesty so I can deliver the letter to her.”

Nanami held your gaze and shook her head. “My lady, if I am still here serving you and accompanying you it is because I trust you completely and my loyalty is yours alone.”

“But…”

“I don't care if you never belong to the family again, I am faithful to you my lady.” He bowed. “And I will follow you.”

You looked at him stunned by the words he just said. “Nanami…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I will follow you and make sure you meet the duke once again.”

“Thank you…” You whispered, whipping away the tears that had gathered in your eyes. “How long do you think it will take us to get there?”

Nanami thought for a moment, thinking of the shortest and most feasible route for everyone. “Probably in two more days.” You nodded and smiled calmly.

“Good.” You said.

And so once you were all ready you left again, heading towards the capital. You were amazed with each new place you visited, with the people and the landscapes. It was the first time you traveled, since you had always been in your town and had never left there. You didn't know what would happen after delivering the letter and showing them the evidence that the king's brother was still plotting against the crown. If they would also condemn you or what would become of you. You did not know.

You also didn't know if you would be able to meet Satoru. Nanami had told you that he was in the capital, where the palace doctors were treating him but you didn't know if you would be able to see him, but you longed to see him, you longed to touch him again and feel his warmth.

When you crossed the wall that surrounded the capital you felt your heart begin to accelerate and when you began to enter the castle gate to have a reception with the king it accelerated even more. And standing there in front of the king and the prince, you felt like you could faint.

“So…” You began. “His majesty, I’m the only daughter of…” You said your family name and bowed. “I’m here to give you this letter that I found in my father’s office.” You held the letter in your hands. “I believe it’s extremely important for his majesty to know about this information and to take care of it.”

The king nodded and one of his guards took the letter from your hands and brought it to the king. He read it carefully and with a slight frown.

“You say you found this letter in your father's office?” You nodded. “You know what it means right?”

"Yes sir." You said with your eyes downcast.

“Why would you betray your family like that?” He wondered.

You clenched your fists and clenched your lips into a thin line. “Those people were not my family, my family is the ones who have accompanied and supported me on this journey and the man I am looking for.”

The king touched his chin and smiled and then looked at his son who nodded. “Thank you very much for this young lady, the crown will take care of it.”

The crown prince looked at you and smiled. "Follow me please." You looked at Rose and Nanami doubtfully and the prince, noticing it, turned to you. "Don't worry, you can trust me."

You nodded and followed his steps, tightly gripping the pendant you were wearing, trying to calm your nerves. Your eyes roamed every corner of the hallways you walked through, marveling at the details of the walls and ceilings, admiring the paintings of old monarchs that hung on the walls and the large windows that illuminated your entire path. It was like being inside one of your books, where the protagonist toured her spacious palace.

“It must have been a long trip, right?” The prince spoke again, exalting you a little.

“Uh… yeah a little.” You smiled.

“Well now you can rest here as much as you want, I'm welcome.” He smiled at you again and you smiled back. “Oh!” He stopped short in front of a large white door. "We have arrived." He said, taking the knob he opened the door.

His back blocked your view of what was in front of you so you couldn't see well what was inside.

“Look who came to see your injured ass.” The crown prince stepped aside and you finally saw what was in that room, who was in that room.

Your breathing stopped and your heart forgot how to beat when you saw him lying on that bed. His face had the occasional scar that seemed to be healing and his arm was completely bandaged. But it was there, he was there. Satoru was before you, he was alive.

“Angel…” He whispered with his blue eyes looking at you, unblinking.

And that nickname, that whisper was enough to break you down. Crying, you approached the bed and fell next to it.

“I thought…” You tried to speak but words were hard to pronounce.

“I’m so sorry my angel.” He held your hand. “Suguru give my future wife a chair or something!”

“Tsk.” You heard the crown prince. “You know I’m going to be the next king right?”

“And she is going to be my wife, so what?” Satoru replied.

“It’s okay, I…” You tried to speak.

“My lady, here you have a chair.” The crown prince smiled.

“Thank you, his majesty.” You bowed and sat down on the chair.

“I will leave the two of you alone.” The crown prince said and left the room.

“Angel…” Satoru called you.

“I though you died. I thought you left me, I…”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed your hair. “After going on that visit, I planned to take you with me to my house and finally get married. But well, the accident... it left me unconscious for several weeks and when I woke up your engagement to Mr. Harrison had become official and my condition was not the best." He sighed and squeezed your hand lightly. “I wanted to go there, get you out of that place and take you somewhere where I knew you would be happy but…” He touched his leg and smiled. “Suguru, the prince, did not allow me to do anything and I had to resign myself to knowing that the love of my life was not going to be able to be happy.”

You grabbed his hand in your hands and looked into his eyes. “But now I can be happy.” Satoru smiled.

“I didn't tell you at the time and when the accident happened my last thought was how sorry I was for not having told you but I love you my angel. I love you." He said and cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

You closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that you had longed for so much and you let yourself be enveloped by all the love and affection that Satoru was emanating at that moment.

You had believed that you would never taste those kisses again, that you would never again feel the soft touch of his skin against yours. But there you were, enjoying the love you both felt for each other.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Satoru…” He hummed in your ear. “Your brother was right.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry my parents were behind your parents death and also behind your…”

“Hey angel.” He made you look at him. “None of that was your fault, you are not like your parents. And soon you will be a Gojo.”

His kiss made all the storms disappear from your heart, and calm was restored, allowing your heart to beat again with serenity and tranquility.

The tumultuous waves of doubt and fear that had threatened to engulf you subsided and were replaced by a deep sense of peace. Her touch, gentle, felt like a soothing balm for a wound you didn't know was so deep. It was as if, in that moment, all the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued you dissolved, leaving only the clear, steady rhythm of love.

Satoru broke the kiss and caressed your face. “Suguru told me that before you ran away from home, Mr. Harrison had called off the engagement or proposed. What happened?"

You smiled slightly. “I told them I was having your baby.” Satoru opened his eyes. “No I'm not.” You clarified. “But you should have seen their faces.”

"I would have loved it." Satoru smiled. “But next time it could be true.” He whispered.

You turned your face. “You must recover first.” You said.

“Angel, we can do a lot of things while we wait for me to recover.” He kissed your shoulder. “A lot of new things you still don’t know.”

You turned your face to look back at him. “Like what?” You had been tempted and Satoru knew it, which is why that smile that had captivated you from the beginning appeared on his face.

Fin

Notes: I can’t believe BDILH is over (the epilogue still needs to happen but still) 😭. The fact that this short series started as a Mikasa one shot, then turned into a dark romance with Sukuna but it ended up being a Gojo short fic bc I’m such a Gojo sucker… But thank you everyone for the likes, the comments and the love.

Also sorry bc this final didn’t have much angel x Satoru but the epilogue will be fully focus on them and just them and it will be 4-5k. But the main story needed a conclusion and didn’t want to extend the chapter too much. I’m quite satisfied with the result and I hope everyone enjoyed it ❤️

— comment if you want to be tagged in the final part

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