#and that was the start of their marriage truly crumbling

[sneverussape]

sweeping her off her feet / falling head over heels

—

eileen knew they had talked about her, how eileen prince could have gone and married a muggle.

her response if she hadn’t stayed her tongue was this - who wouldn’t have fallen in love with a muggle like tobias snape? although older than her by a number of years, he was steadfast, loyal, and honorable. a soldier through and through and worth at least three wizards.

how could she have known then how they would have ended up?

she couldn’t have.

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[sonolynn]

A Fools Game

request | would love to see your take on Aemond feeling like a fool. Aemond thinks he charmed someone all on his own, only to find out they were pressured into pursuing him by a power-hungry family member, much like Alicent with Viscerys 👀

summary | Aemond thought you loved him.

paring | Aemond x Fem!Reader

tags | swearing, unrequited love, arranged marriage, hurt no comfort, angst, miscommunication kinda, not proof read.

w.c | 1.3k

note(s) | I love angst. I love angst so much.

____________________________________________

Aemond loved you. Whole heartedly he loved you. He never thought himself capable of love or being loved, but somehow you changed that; changed his way of thinking and his way of everyday life. He didn’t like it, at first. He thought at first that this new way of life that was instructed by you was something to feel scared about, or to fear. It wasn’t until he got to know you-truly know you-that he found himself drowning in what it was like to love you. 

While he was courting you it felt surreal. He had charmed his way into your heart and your affections with all but simple words and small touches. He thought himself to be a human for once. Not a mindless sword for the crown but a human-perhaps even a boy. 

When he asked you to marry him he thought you would say yes immediately, but when you said you needed to think he felt a little bit of his resolve crumble away and fill with anxiety. 

____________________________________________

“He asked me if I should marry him.” You told Queen Alicent. The queen nodded at your words, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. Your family had been a vital part of the crown’s court for generations. Your father had gifted the crown lots of gold, and even more weapons and military assistance with what you could spare. More times than you could count your father had saved King Viserys’ ass. 

Hence why now, the queen was pressuring you into marrying her son. A marriage between the great Targaryen’s and your house would surely be prosperous for both sides. 

“And you said yes?” Alicent asked. You had always felt the pressure to say yes to anything the prince had asked you; You did not find him scary, or intimidating as most did, but you didn’t know if you could love him like how he seemed to love you, at least, not with the pressures of his family.

“I told him that I would think about it, your grace.” At your words Alicent stopped and she turned back to you. 

“Think about it?” 

“Yes, your grace-” 

“You will say yes.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded slowly. You knew that this was coming, you knew that you had no choice in the outcome of your own life. You were born into this, being the firstborn daughter of your family and all. From the minute the maester declared your gender you no longer had a choice in what you would choose to do in your life. Your decisions, your actions and your fate all rested in the hands of powerful men and women. 

So, when Alicent told you that you would say yes to the prince, you only nodded softly and went on your way. A pain in your chest that you couldn’t yet seem to pinpoint. 

____________________________________________

When the day finally came for the wedding the whole keep was a bustle. Servants ran around, preparing the decorations and the food and almost everything. You, however, sat in your chambers, staring at yourself in the mirror as the servant behind you did your hair. 

Aemond found himself excited, marrying the girl-no, women-that he had fallen in love with made his head spin and his heart burn in anticipation to see you in your white dress. 

You, however, didn’t recognize yourself, decorated in gold and ivory like a doll for Alicent Hightower to play with. Your hair had adjournments and jewels that you had never seen before, and your dress was starting to feel too tight. You quickly stood from your seat, and you walked to Alicent’s chambers. 

The minute you got to Alicent’s room, seeing her sit in her chair as a servant did her hair, you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you. If you backed out now surely your father would hate you for it…But you were done looking out for others. 

“I can’t marry the prince.” You spoke quietly, but Alicent heard you. She stood slowly, pushing the servant back a little. 

“You are just nervous. You shouldn’t say such things-” “The only thing that I am nervous about is being thrown into a loveless marriage! I cannot marry the prince lest I drive myself insane!” Alicent paused, and she gave you a look; a warning look. But you ignored the look, only to continue talking. “I have never looked out for myself. Not truly. But for once I wish to be able to make my own decision without that of a higher power!” 

You watched Alicent’s eyes drift from your eyes to behind you, and her breath caught in her throat. 

“Aemond.” 

You froze as she spoke the name, and you turned quickly, only to be faced with that of the young prince. Your heart broke, something you didn’t know it could do for the prince. You watched his wide eye, his soft frown as he stared down at you. 

“My mother forced you to do this?” He spoke carefully, his voice slightly wavering. You watched, as the last bit of excitement in the prince's eyes drained out into something more; hurt and betrayal. 

“M-My prince-” You went to speak, but Aemond quickly turned, his hair falling over his shoulder blades as he rushed out of the room. You sighed heavily and followed him, calling out his name. 

As he descended down the stairs, you quickly picked up your dress and ran after him. 

“Aemond, wait! Please! You do not understand-” 

“I understand enough!” His voice was loud, he was truly yelling, which caused you to stop and stare down at him. His one eye was slightly red, and his jaw was clenched. 

“Aemond-” 

“I understand. I understand that my mother is a two tongued cunt who forces others to bend at her will. But I did not expect you to be so easily pliable.” Your face hardened at that, and you glared at him. 

“How is it that when looking out for myself, I become pliable! I wish to live a life in which I do not have my decisions made for me-” 

“You could have had that with me!” Aemond spoke frantically, looking up at you with soft eyes as his voice tore between the lines of hurt and fury. “I would have loved and cherished you with everything I had!” 

You scoffed. “Loved? When does love ever come out of a political marriage?” 

“Political?” His face softened into confusion and he looked up at you, his eye tracing over your face in disbelief. You looked at him with the same amount of confusion. 

“This marriage. It is political.” 

“No. No, this marriage is because I find my heart at your feet.” You stopped at his words, staring at him with an expression slowly turning into that of shock. 

“You care for me?” 

“No, I fucking love you!” He stares for a moment longer, before he speaks again. “But now I see what it truly is. Forgive me, my lady.” He gave you a quick nod of his head before he turned and returned to his descent down the stairs. You stood frozen, looking at his back as tears formed in your eyes. You knew this wedding would go on no matter what happened, but this complicated things, so many things. 

As Aemond walked away he felt his heart beating faster. How could he not hate? Why, out of all of this new found hurt did he still feel a connection towards you? 

He wished to scream, he wished to punch the walls until his knuckles went raw and bloody. He wanted to do so many things but he seemed paralyzed to action as your words rang through his head. You never wished to marry him, you wished to please his mother. Gods did he feel like a fool. 

A mistake he vowed he’d never make again.

[luvsupa]

GOODBYE, PRINCE GOJO.

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (fingering), gojo has no shame, ANGST, royalty, sad ending arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..

w.c: 4.4k

a/n:FINAL PART 🥹🥹 tysm for everyone who supported me and my story! ALSO THANK U GUYS SM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! IM BEYOND THANKFUL 💗+likes and reblogs are appreciated 🤍🤍

the next morning, unease settles over you as you touch up your makeup at your vanity desk, preparing for family breakfast. your entire life feels like it’s crumbling. you have only two days to choose your fate. strangely enough, you’ve grown comfortable around gojo again, but the fear of him tormenting you lingers.

but then there’s nanami.

he promised you a loving future. he’s charming and everything you want in a husband. yet, you can’t have both. society would never accept it; you’d be shunned if you tried.

choosing nanami means finally being freed from gojo, the twisted curse that has haunted you. but also being sent away could benefit you, offering no drama and pure freedom from him.

this is the only way you could truly be happy.

you grip your makeup brush tightly, feeling beyond conflicted. in a fit of frustration, you throw the brush and stand abruptly, nearly tipping your chair. this decision is tearing you apart. you don’t care about your appearance anymore as you exit your room and head to the breakfast room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hear distant chatter before arriving in the royal breakfast room. you greet the guards kindly as you enter, finding only your mother, gojo’s mother, and ayana seated around the long table. you expected more seats to be occupied, but many were empty.

the servants were bringing plates of fruits and vegetables to the table, along with freshly squeezed juices.

ayana notices you first, scoffing and turning away. you walk to the opposite side of ayana, catching gojo’s and your mother’s attention with your heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“oh, good morning, dear,” your mother says as you greet everyone respectfully. you sit directly in front of ayana, with your mother to your left at the table’s end.

“will ‘ruru be joining us, your majesty?” ayana asks annoyingly. the queen confirms his arrival. ayana looks at you with a hint of mischief, but you’re already weary of the torment you’ve endured.

just in time, you hear his laughter echo outside the breakfast room as he chats with the guards, thanking them for their hard work. ayana leans back in her seat, trying to see gojo through the doorway, biting her lip as she eyes him.

you feel a pang of jealousy at her reaction to him—oh.

i get why.

gojo walks in with his hair fluffy and damp, wearing a white button-up with the first few buttons undone, revealing a bit of his chest. you feel yourself start to salivate as his lotus tattoo peeks out.

holy fuck, he’s hot, you think.

“satoru, dear, must you always arrive in such untidiness?” his mother inquires with a touch of regal authority as he makes his way toward you. ayana’s jaw drops as he ignores her and takes the seat beside you.

you nearly moan out loud as you inhale his scent.

“presentable for whom?” he questions in a sassy tone.

“the royal authorities and ayana’s parents will be joining us,” the queen says as gojo rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in anyone but you.

as you wait for the remaining guests to join, gojo keeps trying to hold your hand under the table. you keep shoving him away because your mother and ayana are watching you like hawks.

gojo knows they’re watching and doesn’t care—he wants them to see. as you push his hands away for the fifth time, the guards notify everyone that the rest of the guests have arrived.

you all line up to greet each person, feeling especially awkward when greeting ayana’s parents.

eventually, you return to your seats, still sitting in front of ayana and now her parents, as well as other royal authorities along the table, and beside gojo. great.

the maids kindly serve everyone plates of their desired breakfast. the room fills with the clatter of forks and knives scraping plates, and the soft chatter of the queen and royal authorities. as you enjoy your food, you notice gojo’s plate is untouched.

“you’re not hungry? you didn’t touch your food,” you whisper, concerned about his lack of appetite. he lazily turns his head to you, leaning in.

“i want you,” he murmurs.

you hold your composure, not wanting to show a reaction as you know many eyes are on you, including ayana’s. you ignore his words and focus on eating, but you feel gojo’s gaze, intense and searching.

he won’t back down, will he?

gojo deliberately knocks his utensils under the table, the clattering noise drawing everyone’s attention. you know he has something up his sleeve.

“ahh, don’t worry about me! just clumsy,” gojo reassures everyone as they return to their conversation. he lifts the tablecloth and ducks under the table to retrieve the utensils.

just as he’s getting up from under the table, you feel his hand slide under your gown. his cold fingers trail smoothly up your calf, moving higher and higher until they reach your thighs.

your heart races. he cannot be doing this—the royal authorities are here!

your breath hitches, but you try to maintain your calm persona. his touch sends shivers through you, and the risk of being caught only heightens the tension. gojo’s fingers tease your inner thigh, his touch both infuriating and electrifying.

“please,” you whisper, almost inaudibly, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to continue.

you nearly moan out loud as he rubs you through your already wet undergarments, holding the utensils in his other hand. “here they are! silly me,” he says jokingly, eliciting laughter from the guests. with a rough pull, he moves your undergarments aside, revealing your cunt under the table.

if anyone dared to look under, you two would be sent to the guillotine.

“be a good girl and keep quiet,” he huskily whispers into your ear. you feel yourself slowly turning to mush, his voice, his fingers, his scent—

you cannot keep quiet like this! you must look presentable, especially with ayana glaring at both of you, her annoyance evident.

gojo rubs his fingers along your slit, parting your folds and applying pressure, provoking you to the brink of losing all sanity. his long, slender fingers tease your entrance, almost inserting, but not quite. you bite your lip so hard you think you could bleed, desperately trying to maintain your composure.

shaking, you hold your fork and struggle to focus on eating. gojo, meanwhile, looks unusually pleased, a smug satisfaction on his face as he watches you squirm.

“dear, have you made your decision?” your mother asks, her voice cutting through the hushed conversation at the table. you nervously glance around, internally cursing gojo for his reckless games.

“I-I haven’t,” you stammer, feeling exposed and vulnerable as gojo pinches your throbbing clit. he smirks knowingly, enjoying your struggle to maintain composure.

“you must decide soon, mustn’t you?” gojo interrupts, his tone taunting and cruel. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, realizing he intends to torment you in front of everyone.

“I- mmf”

your whole body jolts as gojo shoves two of his thick fingers straight into your sloppy pussy, the stretch burning in a way that feels strangely good. your velvety walls immediately pulse around his invading fingers, your wetness flowing down your legs. you bite your lip to stifle a cry, struggling to maintain your composure, slowly forgetting that everyone is waiting for your coherent response.

“I will,” you frantically whisper, unsure if anyone heard your hasty response or grasped its significance. as gojo curls his fingers, finding that spot that sends shivers down your spine, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker with each thrusting movement.

your clit twitches in desperate need of attention, neglected by his deliberate touch, heightening the risky thrill of the forbidden act.

“she would be happier away from all of us,” ayana says, attempting to provoke a reaction from you. but you’re too intoxicated by gojo’s fingers to fully register her words. your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as gojo inserts a third finger, stretching you to the fullest as he’s reaching the deepest parts as you feel intense waves of your orgasm approaching.

“ahh you would love the countryside wouldn’t you?” gojo asks again, smirking at how dumb you’ve already became from his fingers. to an outsider, you appear dazed and drowsy, your senses overwhelmed by gojo’s addictive touch. meanwhile, gojo sits composed and seemingly innocent, oh how this made you want to scream at him.

gojo sneakily snakes his other hand under the table. just as you were about to respond, he begins to rub circular motions on your sensitive nub. the double stimulation causes your velvety walls to rapidly tighten around his curled fingers, soaking both his fingers and your gown.

your brain feels fuzzy as your orgasm intensifies. your eyes flutter continuously, as you hear lewd squelches erupt from under the table as his thrusting movements quicken, eager to have you come for him.

your legs continue to shake uncontrollably as the climax rushes through you, your body tensing up. you collapse onto gojo’s chest, your pussy gushing out juices non-stop, creating a messy puddle under the table. as you catch your breath from the intense release, your arousal remains heightened. gojo holds you close, supporting you as you lean against him.

“oh, she might not be feeling well,” gojo remarks, feigning concern. he slides his fingers out of your cunt, and you silently whine at the sudden loss, your walls clenching around nothing.

wait.

you forgot that you were still having breakfast with all the royal statuses as you and gojo were acting like fools! someone for sure had to notice. you’re too scared to look around as you remain leaning on gojo’s chest.

“i will bring her to her room to rest; this topic can be overwhelming,” gojo says, and everyone believes his cover story as he helps you, guiding you out of the breakfast room.

instead of taking the direct route to your room, gojo leads you down a longer path, where fewer guards are present. he stops at a secluded corner, where you have more space to talk openly.

“do you have any sort of decorum? i almost lost it in front of them!” you exclaim, still feeling the pulsating aftermath of your recent actions. your jaw drops as you watch gojo suck his pruned fingers into his mouth, humming loudly as he savors the taste of your arousal. his bright blue eyes lock onto yours with intense lust.

“i said i wanted you,” he murmurs, seemingly dazed by the lingering taste in his mouth.

“i do not want you to go to the countryside. i want you with me,” he pleads, his eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

“you cannot always get what you want, big boy,” you tease, your hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into a passionate kiss. you both moan loudly as your tongues entwine, tasting your arousal on his tongue immediately.

you pull away, denying gojo’s attempt for more kisses. he looks desperate, as if he’s dying without your touch, but you reject him again.

“i have to make my choice,” you say, smoothing out his unbuttoned shirt. your hands slip inside, revealing his lotus tattoo once more. he watches you intently, recognizing your odd attraction to his ink.

“i will see you later, ’toru,” you declare, ending the encounter. with that, you take the longer route back to your room, leaving gojo flustered once again.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as gojo makes his way back to the breakfast room alone, he re-enters the bustling atmosphere where a few people notice his presence. feeling already bored, he settles back into his original seat and makes eye contact with ayana's glossy eyes.

"is my daughter alright? i didn't want her to feel overwhelmed," your mother asks gojo with concern, while ayana eavesdrops. gojo reassures her that everything is fine, but ayana grows more impatient, her leg bouncing in frustration as she knows what transpired between you two.

"all she needed was rest—"

"do you all find this quite odd?" ayana rudely and loudly interrupts, causing a stir in the conversation. her parents are taken aback by her outburst, and the room watches in confusion, waiting for her to continue with her suspicions.

"the man i am supposed to marry is all lovey-dovey for that bitch!" she exclaims, prompting your mother to scold her for her language, which earns ayana's parents a disapproving glance from yours. on the other hand, gojo glares at ayana, visibly restraining himself from reacting impulsively.

“i mean mother, father, you have not seen it all yet but all she does is manipulate my poor ‘ruru,” she continues, spinning a false narrative to fit her story.

“manipulate how?” one of the royal authorities questions, clearly curious about the drama, which could further complicate your choices. ayana shifts her attention to the royal figures, grinning mischievously.

“it’s been many times i have caught them in sexual acts together, she manipulates him into it,” she lies, faking a sniffle to garner sympathy from the authorities. “j-just the other day—oh goodness—they were going feral for each other,” she claims, drawing everyone’s attention to gojo, whose smirk infuriates his mother as he reminisces on your shared intimacy.

“and you were a witness to all of their sexual acts?” the royal authority questions again, setting his utensils down and wiping his mouth with a cotton cloth as he stares intensely at ayana.

“unfortunately, i was. i just hope her punishment increases even more—even right now! they were just engaging in sinful acts under the table! how shameful,” she continues, causing shock and discomfort throughout the room. gojo slouches back in his chair, arms crossed, and begins to laugh, confusing everyone except the royal authorities.

“ayana hara,” another royal authority calls out, catching the attention of ayana and her parents. “as of now, you have confessed to committing a taboo—” ayana’s jaw drops as the authority’s words sink in. her plan isn’t unfolding as expected.

“t-taboo? my royal authority, i-i have not!” ayana interrupts, frantically trying to deny the accusation.

"as i was saying," the royal authority declares firmly, his demeanour visibly upset at her impudent interruption. "bearing witness to sexual acts among two unmarried individuals and failing to promptly report such transgressions to the authorities is considered a grave breach of decorum and law."

ayana’s face drains of color completely. she turns to her parents for support, their eyes seeking guidance from the queen, who remains composed but stern. tears begin to trickle down ayana's cheeks as she comprehends the gravity of her confession. meanwhile, gojo surveys the room with a knowing smile, fully aware of how ayana has unwittingly sealed her fate.

"i- i do not understand, there’s certainly no law about this," ayana stammers, desperation evident in her plea as she searches for any form of support, even casting a fleeting glance towards gojo, hoping he might intervene on her behalf.

"the king and queen uphold the law of the realm without exception. as for your transgression, ayana hara, you are hereby stripped of your duchess title, and immediate banishment of the hara estate is mandated," the authorities pronounce with unwavering authority, rising from their seats in disapproval of the disruption during breakfast. the queen and your mother remain somber and silent throughout, their disappointment clear.

"w- where would i s- stay?" ayana sobs, her world collapsing before her eyes. had she only kept silent, gojo thinks.

"there exists a remote village in the southern reaches, designated for those who have fallen from noble status. there you shall reside until further decree," he continues, the other authorities respectfully concluding their business with the queen and gojo before exiting the room, leaving ayana to cry out in anguish. tears stream down her face as her mother attempts to comfort her.

the room hangs heavy with tension, your mother and the queen maintaining bowed heads. ayana's father hastily pursues the departing authorities, seeking to work out the severity of his daughter's punishment. meanwhile, gojo remains seated, quietly amused by the unfolding drama. from the moment ayana spoke out, he knew her fate was sealed.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

"she was screaming all the way to her carriage, it was hilarious," gojo recounts the scene that unfolded in your absence. ayana had finally got what she deserved, and although you wish you could have witnessed it firsthand, it was satisfying to know she was facing her karma.

gojo stands in your room, recounting the events as you sit at the end of your bed. his shirt is still unbuttoned, and you notice a few more buttons undone than before.

"where has your pretty mind wandered off to?" gojo teases, his hand reaching down to gently lift your face so you meet his blue eyes.

"i am deciding on the first choice," you say, indicating your plan to move to the countryside. you don't want to be forced into a marriage with one of his distant relatives. gojo's smile fades, and he slowly lets go of your face, taken aback by your decision.

"what? no, we must figure something out," he stammers, reality sinking in as he realizes your departure is soon. "time's running out, 'toru. i have to decide, or your father will decide for me."

"no, we will go speak to them." before you can respond, gojo grabs your arm and pulls you out of your room, determined to find his parents. this time, you don't resist his grip, knowing that no matter what gojo says, the king's decision will stand greater.

as you descend the stairs, still hand in hand with gojo, you enter the drawing room to find the king and queen, accompanied by an unfamiliar woman.

“ah, perfect timing,” the king remarks as you both halt. gojo tries to speak but is immediately cut off by his father.

“son, with ayana’s banishment, it disrupts your marriage plans,” the king states.

“yes, father, but i have decided i will marry—”

“you are going to marry ayana’s cousin, rina.”

you shift your focus to the beautiful woman standing beside the king. she’s the same height as you, with long blonde silky hair draping along her back, some pieces neatly curled. her satin blue gown with white accents is beautifully hand-made as she holds a matching fan in one hand. she’s stunning.

you let gojo’s hand go as you feel utterly defeated, his plan of trying to convince the king shattered.

“dear, we ask if you can give them privacy to speak,” the queen says, ordering you to leave. gojo once again grabs your hand.

“she hasn’t decided yet, mother. she has two more days,” gojo says through gritted teeth. the queen chuckles softly at his defensiveness.

“she no longer has a choice. after the incident at breakfast, she will be sent to the countryside permanently first thing tomorrow,” the queen declares.

you can feel his anger.

“are you serious? you allowed her until—”

“i understand,” you say, cutting off gojo as he looks at you in disbelief. he cannot believe how quickly you surrendered your future.

“very well, come now, let us give them space,” the queen says, guiding you out of the room. gojo and rina are left alone as his anger boils over.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you wander the estate, feeling under the weather, you notice nanami through a window, sitting alone in the outdoor library, writing in a journal.

you approach him, and he looks up, smiling as he gestures for you to join him.

“how have you been?” you ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“I should be asking you that. i never wanted this to happen to you,” he replies, closing his journal and placing the feathered pen neatly beside it. you nod, fidgeting with your fingers.

“i have been avoiding you for a few days. i am so ashamed of what occurred, my dear,” he apologizes, his voice rich with sincerity. you immediately forgive him, not wanting to hold a grudge.

“i am being sent to the countryside tomorrow. satoru will marry ayana's cousin,” you inform him. his brows raise in shock at the speed of the decision.

“and you wanted this?”

“no, i initially wanted to marry you, then sat—“ you stop yourself before you can fully say his name, but nanami already knows. he nods at your almost slip-up.

“i believe moving away is probably for the best, but cutting all contact with all of you is the hardest part,” you say truthfully, your heart aching at the thought of never seeing them again. nanami reaches for your hands, taking them into his larger ones.

“you will always be in contact with me. i shall visit you often and write to you,” he reassures you, his voice calm and steady, making you feel more at ease. "and who knows, perhaps one day i can truly make you my queen," he adds, making you gasp at his words, almost as if he's making a promise to you.

“you are destined to make a great king,” you compliment, rubbing circles onto his hands. his cheeks tint a slight pink beneath his glasses, and he smiles humbly, a touch of warmth in his expression.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

night approaches, and the maids and servants diligently pack your belongings. your room is filled with many helpers, working immediately on the king's orders. your mother and father are nowhere to be seen, their absence suggesting their disappointment in their daughter.

you quietly leave your room and make your way to the staircase, heading towards gojo's quarters. you walk down the long hallway and stand before his door, noting his initials engraved on the wooden surface.

you knock, and he swings the door open, not expecting you. his eyes widen as he sees you standing there, arms crossed, gazing into his puffy eyes—he has been crying.

“my room is filled with servants. may i sleep here?” you ask. he steps aside, allowing you into his spacious room.

“how was the meeting with rina?” you ask, turning to look at him as he locks the door, wanting to know if he has any interest in her.

“i want to move with you,” he says, disregarding your question. you look at him in confusion.

“you know that is impossible. are you truly willing to abandon your future as king for me?” you remind him. he nods, not caring about royal status anymore. you glare at him, wanting him to be realistic.

“please wait for me. i promise i will find you and make you the ruler of this estate,” he says as you step closer, embracing him. he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“i will delay the marriage until i can be with you. just, please, wait,” he pleads, and you chuckle softly at his desperation.

“there will never be a time when we can be together, ‘toru,” you say, shattering his dreams of your future together.

“y-yes, there will be. my father's illness will not last long, and my time as king will soon come. i will bring you back,” he says, choking on his words. he releases you from the embrace, sharing his plan.

you smile at his words, knowing that by the time gojo ascends to the throne, you both will have moved on with your separate lives. you take his hand in yours as you both climb into the large, comfortable bed, cuddling together as you stroke his fluffy hair. his continuous promises of your future together ring in your ears as he slowly drifts into slumber.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

your bags are placed across the grand entrance of gojo's estate. through the large double doors, you see three carriages ready to transport you and your belongings. you’ve barely slept, having spent the night in gojo’s tight embrace.

standing beside your parents, you see the tears welling in their eyes at the thought of their daughter departing. the king and queen arrive, with gojo trailing behind them, a look of sadness all over his face.

“it is indeed a sorrowful sight to see you leave,” the king speaks , “but we must act in the best interest of both our families and your reputation.” your gaze shifts to gojo, whose expression mirrors the anger he felt upon first seeing you enter their home.

“thank you for your hospitality,” you reply, your voice trembling as you bow respectfully to the king and queen. the king gestures for the guards to take the remaining luggage to the carriages, while both sets of parents attempt to accompany you.

“i would request that satoru escort me to my carriage,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo’s face lights up with a mix of relief and sorrow as he takes your hand, guiding you down the grand staircase. your parents and his look on in surprise at your request.

as you descend the steps, you can feel gojo’s sorrow acutely. “i love you,” you confess softly. his eyes glisten with emotion, his cheeks flushing as he averts his gaze to conceal his smile.

reaching the final step and approaching the carriage, a guard opens the door. you slip from gojo’s grasp and turn to face him.

“please wait for me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he presses his lips to yours. unperturbed by the guards or your parents watching, this kiss is laden with his anguish. he pulls away, tears brimming in his eyes, and kisses your forehead tenderly.

“stay in contact with me, my love,” he says, handing you a letter adorned with your name and a heart. you take it, fighting back tears as you strive to remain composed.

“prince gojo, we are to depart now,” the guard announces, interrupting your moment. you give gojo a final, lingering kiss before entering the carriage. as you adjust your gown in the seat, the guard shuts the door, and you are left alone, moving away.

overcome by emotion, you burst into tears as the carriage slowly begins its journey. gojo stands at the entrance, his heart breaking with each muffled sob that escapes from within. the further the carriage travels, the more his frustration grows—unable to bear the thought of being apart from his true love.

turning abruptly, gojo rushes up the stairs back into the estate, pushing past the concerned crowd as he ignores their calls. all he truly ever wanted was you.

[eyelessfaces]

about time we found each other again.

leto atreides x reader

summary: even years after your wedding got called off, leto is not sure he truly really got over you.

warnings: implied cheating (I am so sorry lady jessica I love you), death of a parent, angst, probably inaccurate dune lore stuff my most sincere apologies I did my best

tags: f!reader, arranged marriage, first love, love confessions, estrangement, time jump where the second part takes place a few years before the first movie (this doesn't matter at all tbh)

word count: 2.1k

this is my first time writing for leto so I hope he's alright lol<3

When you came to meet Leto Atreides for the first time, it was instantaneous; maybe you couldn't rightfully affirm it with conviction yet, but some deep part of you immediately knew that you desired him to be the one by your side for the rest of time. 

He had been the only other person around your age when you and your family attended a special meeting on Caladan, and you could very well feel your heart beat faster and your cheeks burn hot at each of his furtive glance thrown your way and each slight smirk over either of your faces when your gaze met his. 

Maybe leaving your home land and being sent to eventually move to Caladan wouldn’t be as bad as you had thought, after all.

And it wasn't. You quickly, borderline scarily quickly fell in love with Leto, you were sure of it by now. His manners were those of a man of respect, and he was kind and compassionate, he didn’t have the over excessive pride you would expect from a destined duke.

And ultimately, you grew to also be almost pretty sure that he felt the same way towards you, from the way he listened to you with no feigned interest whenever you shared stories with him, from the way his warm brown eyes so gently looked over at you, from the way he always made sure you were treated right.

You remembered it to be a warm evening when he officially confessed his love to you. 

You had been walking mindlessly through seemingly never ending fields, talking about anything and everything for what felt like a lifetime, eventually stopping to lay down and watch the sun set. 

Leto had settled on gently putting flowers in your hair while you told him about your childhood on your home land, smiling radiantly as he admired you lovingly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand before he leaned in to kiss you. 

Your own hand was quick to find his dark curls neatly slicked back as he hovered over you, the tip of his fingers delicately tracing your face and neck before he pulled away from your lips when it became absolutely necessary. 

From there, the sunset and everything else became insignificant, everything could be crumbling around you and you wouldn’t pay it any mind; nothing mattered, not when Leto promised to love you until his very last breath here in the middle of nowhere. 

So when you eventually had your parents visit you on Caladan and announce to you that you had been sent there for them to agree with the Atreides upon arranging a marriage with Leto, you couldn’t be happier and it couldn’t be more convenient; you would have chosen him anyway, if given the choice.

Leto had the competence of making everything seem so easy, and he turned out to be quick to ease your worries about your upcoming future as a duchess.

Even under the looming political pressure of your marriage, this wedding meant a starting point for the rest of your life, a part you could not wait to share with him, even if it meant a lot of responsibilities and changes.

Then so suddenly, all at once, it all fell apart, everything. 

It was late in the night when you and Leto were laughing and dancing, rehearsing for the forthcoming wedding. Servants had knocked onto your shared room door, and Leto’s hand left your waist as he scurried away to answer the door, opening and making way for them to enter the room. 

They came in with a polite nod, one of them unrolling a parchment letter, reading out loud to the both of you.

The letter was from your father, announcing the news that your mother had died while on a mission, resulting in the need of your presence at your home land to take over her legacy and responsibilities for a while.

You didn’t understand what it involved right away, maybe from the shock of the sudden, dreadful news, the loss of your mother too hard to swallow.

You didn’t understand that it meant that you and Leto were bound to be no more, that either of you were now assigned to different fates and responsibilities, that the marriage was therefore called off for the moment being.

And you quite certainly didn't realize that the night you spent tossing and turning around your shared bed with eyes wide open until the sunrise was the last night by his side, that the morning you left was the last time you would see him.

Until years later, what felt like a lifetime.

When you came back to Caladan for political and business reasons, it was only because of the absolute necessity of your presence, otherwise you wouldn't have shown up.

Finding him again after so long drowned you right back again in the same hollow feeling you endured the moment you were drawn apart years ago, and while you mirrored his polite nod and smirk, you couldn't help but still feel the pain of being estranged so brutally, of seeing him again after so many years.

He was wearing the slowly appearing gray streaks of hair beautifully, and the beard suited him like he was made for it; it made his handsome face look a bit more harsh and severe, but he was a duke now, after all.

You lightly cleared your throat as you made your way to leave the meeting once it was over, troubled as you could feel the weight of his gaze burning holes through you all along. You could feel your heart pound through your ribcage the exact same way it used to when he held you when you were younger, and you ultimately came to the rotten conclusion that your stay here in his presence would be a tough, challenging time for you, and that dwelling on the past had been a bad idea, exactly like you had anticipated it to be. 

—

It was wonderful out there, just like you had remembered it to be. The view from the balcony offered you an endless panorama over Caladan and its lush lands, and while you loved your home land with your whole being, you couldn’t deny missing living on Caladan.

The fresh breeze of the night was nothing but pleasant, and even though you were slowly starting to feel goosebump growing over your skin, you figured the view of the sun starting to set was more important.

“I thought I could stay focused while in your presence.” you recognize his voice all too well, and you wonder if the shiver running down your spine is caused by his sudden apparition or the wind hitting you. “I was deeply wrong”

“Leto,” you chuckle sheepishly, blushing as you turn around and face him.

A bittersweet smile has quirked upon his face, and he steps further and approaches you. The years have been unkind to him, lines of wisdom and experience growing upon his face transforming him into a man hardened by duty. Yet, beneath the rough facade, you can still see the eyes and soul of the man you once knew and loved.

“Why only now?” he asks, a certain helplessness painted across his face.

“What?”

He sighs as he looks away, licks his lips as he walks besides you and grips the barrier of the balcony with both hands. You only hear the wind as you watch and wait for him to do, to say something.

“This should have been yours. All of this” he mutters, gaze fixed on the sight before him. The clouds look like cotton ripped apart and spread through the wide sky, and the sun setting over Caladan turns them into an abnormal color, one you wouldn't even be able to define. “I waited for you.” Leto declares, head turning to look back at you like he is trying to figure out how you feel or waiting for you to say something.

Your eyes close as a small exhale leaves your mouth. “Why should it matter now, Leto” you scoff, turning away to try to escape his gaze, heavier than you remember.

“It has always mattered” he declares, following your steps as you try to inch away from him. He calls your name in a weak plea, his hand coming to rest over your arm. “Look at me. Please”

You do. You turn back to him, and he looks at you like you will be slipping away from him any moment now, like you're just a ghost, like you're water in his bare hands. “Tell me you did not think of me all those years and I'll leave you alone.” he whispers feebly, face close to yours as he still holds onto your arm, and you can feel your breaths mingling from how close he is to you.

His unwavering gaze is locked on yours, desperately waiting for you to say something. Eventually, your lack of response speaks for itself, and he nods slightly. “That's what I thought.”

“Leto.”

His hands come to cup your face, holding it steady as with a sigh, his forehead rests against yours. Your eyelids fall shut under the weight of it all and you exhale softly, your hand wrapping around his wrist, stroking along his forearm.

“I have loved you since I met you. I should have found you and married you regardless.” he mutters, barely louder than a whisper. His declaration makes something flutter deep in your core, and you grimace like his words feel sour to hear. You should have done it differently, should have come back to Caladan after everything went back to normal after your mother's death.

“And your wife?” you rhetorically ask, with a dubious scoff.

“She's not– we never married.” he shakes his head, pulling away from your forehead to look back at you, your hand falling to your side again when you let go of his arm. His gaze and the way his eyebrows are angled weakly are conveying everything you need to know, confirming every conclusion you made. 

Your lips part slightly, some part of you refusing to believe in what he's indirectly telling you, refusing to believe that he gave up on some part of his life waiting for you.

“We were promised a marriage together, a life together” he continues, taking hold of your hand, fingers lacing with yours tentatively. “I always hoped you would come back and we would resume our life together where it stopped.”

“Now still?” you weakly ask, equally pained and somehow flattered that he never really got over you.

Again, the lack of answer and his previous actions prove the point, and you hold his hand tighter when you swallow with difficulty. Your other hand slightly trembles when you reach to touch his face, settling to rest at his bearded cheek, and you smile weakly as you trace the lines that you never got to witness appear. 

“We were so young” you smile, drawing one out of him. The corners of his lips turn upwards as his hand covers your own over his face, pulling it to bring it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles softly, the feeling of his warm breath over your skin taking you years back.

“Don't go back.” he begs against your hand, his voice wavering a little. There’s a glint in his eyes as his gaze darts up at you that makes it impossible for you to consider refusing and giving up on him again. “You belong here.”

Your eyebrows knit in uncertainty as you tear your gaze away from him, looking at the endless view again. You can't help but overthink every consequence coming back to Caladan is going to involve, for you as much as for Leto, and especially for his own concubine that is at this point already long forgotten by him.

This is unfair, but some part of you acknowledges your younger selves feelings and remembers how devastated you were to leave him; leaving again while knowing that he still cares after so many years and regrets not marrying you may hurt even more.

“This will make people talk, Leto.” you wince, looking back at him.

He shakes his head carefreely. “Let them.” he affirms with a dismissive scoff as his hands settle over your hips. You grin softly as he pulls you closer, and a soft exhale leaves your mouth when your arms wrap around his neck.

He takes a while to admire your face, how it has changed despite still remaining the one of the woman he fell in love with long ago.

When he kisses you, it is the exact same way he used to when you were young.

—

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[pretzel-box]

you killed me with the last part of sunkissed 😭😭 i NEED a happy ending for it ill go insane!!!!!!!!

Sequel to Sunkissed Collection. Final Part.

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship [Marriage], more fluff, comfort, reunion, more fluff again.

Words: 1,2k

Authors Note: It was a close call between not posting another part anymore or satisfying the mass of readers.

“It feels like… we’re not meant to be together,” Sebastian screamed suddenly into the hallway, his voice cracking under the heavy emotions he tried to conceal. All the words that didn't come out previously, were now spilling out of his mouth into the silence of the facility. “Not anymore.”

His breath hitched, his chest tightening at his own twisted words and his guilty mind ran wild with thoughts that screamed at him. His fluorescent eyes, usually so guarded, shimmered with the threat of unshed tears as he stared at you, a torrent of emotions storming behind them. For a moment, he was silent, lost in the tumult of his feelings. He doesn't know anymore at this point. He wished he could just run to you at full speed, tackle you from behind and start where you two left off. And at the same time, he knew it was unrealistic. You deserved your happiness, without his new life…

“And yet,” you continued his sentence, standing at the end of the hallway, the hand hovering above the door handle as if you had waited all along. Your voice was like a gentle balm in the heavy air, a strong contrast to him. While he was on the edge, you tried to be his lifeline, trying to save him from himself. “We aren't meant to part ways either.”

Sebastian's gaze met yours, and he felt his heart stir at the sight of your smile—the perfect, warm smile he cherished so deeply. The one that, in his darkest moments, always brought him hope. It was a sign that everything was okay. And if it wasn’t, then somehow, someday, it would be. Seeing it again after all those years, not in his broken memories, but right in front of his very eyes, made something in him flip. He thought you had already left.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you murmured, your voice carrying a tenderness that seemed to melt away the fear holding him back.

He flinched as you took a few gentle steps forward, your hand reaching out to him with such care, such deliberate grace, that he couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of surprise and longing. “Even if it seems impossible.” Your fingers hovered near his skin, tracing soft circles over his cheekbones, gliding into the dark waves of his raven locks. The touch was so familiar, so filled with unspoken love, that he felt his defenses crumble. “I would do anything.”

You were still here. You hadn’t left.

“Anything to give us one last chance, even when I know it's already over.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Sebastian raised his own trembling hand, placing it softly over yours. He was scared, terrified that this was just another cruel trick of his mind. But the moment his cold fingers touched yours, a spark ignited in his heart, warm and real, spreading through him like wildfire.

He felt a rush of emotion—a mixture of relief, hope, and an overwhelming love he’d buried deep within himself for so long. You were here. Truly here. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

“I’ve missed you… so much.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched as the dam of his deep emotions finally broke. Tears began to fall freely, tracing the contours of his cheeks, and his body trembled with the force of his sobs. He could no longer hold back the pain, the guilt, the relief that flooded him all at once, that suffocated him from the very inside. It felt like a tidal wave crashing over him, threatening to pull him under.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m so sorry for everything… For what I’ve become, for the things I’ve done to survive… I—” His words were cut off by a sob that tore through his chest, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands, ashamed to meet your all loving eyes.

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him with a loving care, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Sebastian,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with a quiet, unwavering love. “Look at me.” When he didn’t, refusing to disgust you further with his apperance, you gently lifted his chin with your hand, guiding his tear-filled gaze to meet yours. “I love you. No matter what you look like, no matter what you’ve done… I love you.”

He blinked, his three eyes wide and shimmering with fresh tears, his breath catching in his throat once more. “But… how can you?” he whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of his guilt and self-loathing. “After everything… how can you still love me?”

You smiled softly, a tender warmth in your mesmerizing eyes as you held his gaze. “Do you remember our wedding vows?” you asked, your thumb brushing away the tears on his cheek. “At the beach, with the waves crashing behind us? You promised me to be my home. And I made the same promise to you, Sebastian Solace.”

He nodded, barely able to speak, the memory flooding back—the salty breeze, the sound of the ocean, the way your eyes sparkled with happiness as you exchanged your vows. He remembered how you both laughed when the wind caught the veil, how you both spoke with such conviction, such hope for the future.

“Those vows… they weren’t just words,” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “They were a promise. A promise that I still keep, no matter what. I don’t care what you look like now or what you’ve done to survive. I care about you, the man I married, the man I still love with all my heart.”

A strangled cry escaped Sebastian’s lips, a mix of relief and heartbreak, and he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if afraid you might vanish if he let go. “What belongs together will be together, Sebastian. No matter what comes before, between or after.” His face buried in the crook of your neck, his tears soaking your skin. “I… I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice muffled, full of anguish.

You stroked his dark hair gently, pressing a soft kiss to his temple like you did countless times before in the past. “Maybe,” you replied, your tone teasing yet full of love, “but you’re stuck with me anyway.”

He chuckled softly through his tears, a small, broken laugh, and for the first time in so long, he felt a flicker of hope. You were here, holding him, loving him despite everything. You hadn’t turned away, hadn’t abandoned him.

“You’ve always been stubborn,” he whispered, his voice trembling but softer now, filled with a kind of peace he hadn’t felt in years.

“And you love me for it,” you replied, a smile in your voice as you held him close, feeling the tension slowly leaving his body.

“I do,” he murmured, his grip on you tightening. “I love you so much.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt as if the world around you faded away. It was just the two of you, together again, bound by the love and promises you made on that beach so many years ago. And for the first time in a long time, Sebastian dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for happiness, since he was home once more.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞? || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚

part one: here || part two; i’ve been the archer

summary_ after returning from Egypt, you are set to marry your half brother Geta. When you fall in love with General Marcus Acaius, your brother tries everything to prevent you from slipping away from him.

warnings_CRINGE, age gap!, semi incest (do not romanticize irl) reader x Geta, drama, angst, VERY quick love confessions, implied SMUT +18

NOTES_ who’s afraid of little old me?, I just wished there were gallows in Ancient Rome, listen to my awful playlist for Marcus and the classic I have for Pedro bb.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist + Marcus’s playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

If there was something you’d never miss… were the carmine sunsets. Those lasted more than usual. That kept the beginning of the night warm and made you the silent promise of another good day by the following morning.

It had been easy for your father to send you away as soon as your mother quit their marriage. Your brother was a big inconvenience and a hidden mistake that shattered your little wealthy family. Under the cautious look of the Roman Senate, your parents were still bonded in a strong marriage. But the truth was that your father never truly loved the woman who gave birth to you. Which led to your mother leaving for Egypt, a Roman Province. Soon after her departure, you were sent to Alexandria too.

Each day was a boost to your status. Learning a vast variety of languages and dialects, learning different types of dances, being able to handle weapons, and gaining control over the Egyptian cities, to help your powerful father; The Emperor.

You barely missed Rome. Your mother was a cold Empress that loosened all the knots your father could have tightened around you. Growing up used to the Egyptian parties, drinking the finest beer and bread. Taking occasional lovers since virginity was not a necessity for marriage in Egyptian society. One of those lovers specifically, was a tall warrior with sun-kissed bronze skin that transformed you into a woman in every aspect you couldn’t discover by yourself. It was a shame when he died after a bad injury during war.

In the present, being in your first years as a young woman, things were likely to change, and you were very aware of it. That didn’t stop you from having the time of your life in the vivid city of Alexandria. With very few friends, a dead lover, and a dream.

Every night you savored those carmine sunsets to pray to Venus. Perhaps your dream of finding a true love hadn’t happened yet due to praying to her instead to Hathor; the god of love in Egyptian territory. Nevertheless, you intended to marry a man who was ridiculously, recklessly, and borderline obsessed with you. You wanted to live the broken dream of your mother.

Until desires were abruptly paused one night. When you received a letter from your father.

“A letter from the Emperor. It is the wish of your father to have you back in Rome” Your walls crumbled into pieces. The face of shock was splashed all across your face as you listened to your mother.

“What motivated his decision?”

“I can assure you, I don’t know, my child,” your mother says vaguely, tending his favorite flowers inside the palace.

“Do not lie to me, mother” she sighs and suddenly, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, but the sight unsettles you.

“He wants you to marry Geta…” your eyes get impossibly wide open, and you gasp in shock.

“My brother?” your mother nods. You pace back and forth, wondering why and how could your father come to that conclusion.

Although you were used to attending weddings in Egypt that came from a mother marrying her son, to a brother marrying his sister, it was… awkward. This was the boy that destroyed your family, the boy that would take half of your rights as heir was meant to be your husband and father of your children.

The mere thought scares you.

“Will you accompany me?” It’s the first thing you come up with.

“I must stay here since Egypt won’t have you now” You frown at her words. But your throat tightens, defying to produce tears that quickly threaten to spill everywhere.

“Be strong, remember everything I’ve taught you. No men will defy the tenacity of the emperor’s daughter.” you nod, your eyes prickling with fear that explodes in your chest.

“And in between, find the love I couldn’t keep, no matter what, y/n…”

“I’m seeing you again, Right, mother?” she nods, giving you a cold hug.

“I’ll always be here…”

For the first time, the carmine sunset does not bring you peace. Your mind is edging towards collapse as you approach Rome. As the light of the light leaves, you question everything. So many questions and nothing of time.

…

There were no shattered crystals after dinner as you expected. Your brother Geta welcomed you in Rome with excitement and it confused you even more. He gave you a short and personal tour of his newest garden and prepared the finest banquet made by all of the servants.

Geta is a sole copy of your father. Same mannerisms and style. Only behind his attentive look, you were aware of the sadistic man who talked to you with respect.

“Where is Father?” you ask him, sipping at your wine.

“An important meeting surged. He’ll join us tomorrow, we are preparing vast festivities”

“Festivities for what?” he smiles, you don’t like how compassionate and polite he’s being.

“Our marriage, soror” The heavy makeup on his face does everything to hide the truth of the narcissistic man he is.

You could swear he hated you because your mother was the sovereign empress and you the rightful heir. Your father just happened to have two wives and two kids at the same time.

And despite everything, you didn’t hate your brother. You despised her mother for drawing your own apart from your father. For convincing him to send you away from your solemn fair future. For transforming your brother into some incompetent who seemed to have a hunger for chaos and madness.

“I must thank you, for welcoming me… despite our background differences” It takes him aback. Geta expected a disheveled girl, a rebellious female who followed the ways of the savages; the Egyptians. But he encountered a bright and marvelous sister who tried to act with peace after being so far from home for so long.

“I wished we could’ve grown together, like a united family” you admit coldly, avoiding the whole marriage issue.

“We will be a family, y/n. I’ll make sure of that” he says hiding his lips in his cup of wine and it sends shivers running down your spine.

Geta sees how you stand up and politely push forward the chair you were seated in; excellent manners.

“As a tradition of mine, I’ll see the sunset and pray before going to rest. Please excuse me….” your brother nods, still processing your words as you leave the imposing place where you were born. You desperately need fresh air.

Near there’s a meadow with empty spaces. It’s just a piece of land that soon would probably serve to build another coliseum.

One thing is noticeable. Sunsets in Rome aren’t carmine… they are mauve. And for some reason, you can’t feel peace.

But you hold tight to your dream. Your happiness is what you’ve prioritized ever since a teenager.

That’s why you hadn’t failed a day to pray to Venus.

Venus, hear me, please. You whose care, throughout all the centuries, the unions of men and their lovers have been placed, what, I pray, have I come to merit? Release me from this uncertainty, gift me a lover, who will warm my heart for eternity. Venus, save me from the hells of my ancestries.

Someone touches your naked shoulder, it makes you gasp in horror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” someone says. When you turn around, you are facing a man who’s incredibly taller and broader than you. He’s significantly older than you, but he’s graceful. The second he takes to appreciate the sunset as well is your chance to study his profile. Gorgeous classical profile.

“Excuse me, but… Who are you?” you ask, moving aside, leaving his hand that rested on your shoulder in the air. He noticed it.

“General Marcus Acaius… I wondered why a woman was here all alone” you know him. He’s the most successful general your father ever had. He was a concise warrior, even considered a killer.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but find some sweetness in his deep voice. By knowing him for just a second, you felt comfortable by his side.

“I take pleasure in appreciating the sunset…” your soft features intrigued him. You looked slightly different than most of the women he sees in Rome.

“I haven’t appreciated the sky since I was a kid”

“What a shame, General. You would find some peace hidden between the clouds” Your accent was slightly colder than everyone’s. You didn’t have the golden hair that usually meant power. He was infatuated and tremendously interested in the woman he was facing.

“I must know where you come from…” he says, paying attention to your eyes. You smile, touching the little pearls that fall from your pale blue dress.

“I was born here… but circumstances made Alexandria my home. I arrived last night…” his eyes show surprise. He analyzed your bracelets, made of pure gold. You had a leaf crown with tiny sapphires that shimmered around your head. It wasn’t hard to tell who you were.

“majestas… you shouldn’t be here” he mutters and you don’t even flinch.

“I can assure you, General Acaius… I rarely find myself in the position of damsel in distress” he chuckles and you are relieved to see he doesn’t carry a ring around his finger. It was happening so fast, you wanted to know everything about him.

“You may call me Marcus. Except when we are in the presence of your father or brother” you remember you are supposed to marry your brother. But it wasn’t official just yet. And you were quickly falling for this older and gorgeous General.

After a sweet battle or glances, he has to put down his sword. You notice the details and the signs of years of use it has.

“Is this the weapon you master the most?” he nods, noticing the dry blood around the edges.

“Indeed… I learned to wield it before I even went to school” You smile, nervous but eager to throw your next comment. He was speaking very softly towards you. But it was obvious that he was a reserved and serious man.

“I use the spear and axe” Your revelation leaves Marcus surprised. There were very few female gladiators, most of them being treated worse than common slaves. No female in the Roman hierarchy wielded weapons.

“You truly are one of a kind, majestas” As the emperor’s daughter, you weren’t supposed to ever wield a weapon. Contrary to that rule, you were required to learn about politics. In Egypt, you were free.

“Oh, don’t call me that… my name is Y/n”

“Precious name…”

His smile mixed with yours burst in an obvious mutual flirtation. After talking for about two hours, the moon is the only witness in the dark meadows, where Marcus and you kiss until your lips are swollen and he has hydrated him after days of dryness. He promises to keep close to you as his fingers slip under the fabric of your tunic. You swear to welcome his touch no matter what as your hand palmed his girthy length under his heavy armor.

That night both of you seal your fate. That night Marcus Acaius ignites a vivid fire inside your heart.

…

Often, you wondered if candles could run out due to the excessive use of them each night. At least thirty candles are illuminating the place. You patiently wait in the room Marcus had in the Emperor’s palace, seated on the edge of the bed. When the General comes out, he spots you at his resting place. Immediately, you frown at him.

“You said it was a minor injury” There’s a lot of dry blood on his shoulder. He had taken a bath… but the injury was there, uncomfortably lying over his skin.

“It is a minor injury.” He assures, sitting beside you on the bed.

It’s been only a couple of days since you met him… and you are already too keen on him.

“There are no gladiators where I come from. Only warriors… Generals only command their soldiers. We never used weapons as a spectacle”

“I’m starting to believe Egypt is a better place than Rome” you shrug.

“I miss my home. I miss the freedom. I can’t marry Geta…” you admit out loud for the first time. Marcus huffs, he doesn’t have a problem with letting you know he is jealous.

“Right… the wedding.”

“I have to marry him after all. Only that way I could share the title of Empress with him” Marcus sighs tired.

“Am I descending into madness for these strong feelings I have for you?” you turn to look at him. Your hand moves to the end on top of his.

“I look into your eyes… and I feel safe, Marcus” you admit, straddling him. Your fingers trace his beard as you lean to kiss him deeply. He reciprocates and holds your hips steadily.

It’s a wild moment to openly share carnal passion, but neither of you cares. You push him against the feathery pillows and continue kissing. His hair gets tangled around your fingers and his forearms and hands have disappeared under your dress. You start throbbing and he gets hard. But the moment is suddenly interrupted by some footsteps near the room. In a blink of an eye, you get away from Marcus and he stands up from the bed too.

“Use the trail at the end of the hallway. I’ll see you tomorrow, satis” he says, kissing your forehead before you quietly leave his resting place.

Some guards were wandering around the place as usual. You skillfully pass by them, using the trail Marcus told you. But it’s dark and very quiet, not even illuminated by torches. Your sandals barely make a sound against the floors.

So it’s a huge surprise when a hand covers your mouth and the next thing you feel is getting slammed against the wall. It didn’t hurt you but it was violent.

You gasp for air and encounter your half-brother. He has his golden crown and velvet robes, his face almost clean of tints that weren’t his natural skin.

“What were you doing with General Acaius?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” his ginger hair is the only thing that shines in the dark trail.

“Quit the lie, soror. Has he made you impure?”

Oh dear brother, if you knew my purity has been gone for many years. But the truth was that Marcus hadn’t claimed you his yet.

“No. And it should not be a matter of importance to you” he chuckles.

Geta isn’t an idiot. He had seen the way Acaius looked at you during dinners. He noticed you came back to rest later than usual. And it was making him boil in anger. His disgust towards you before your arrival was strong. But after you turned to be a delight for his taste, Geta was burning for you.

“Oh, but it is a matter of importance to me. You are my future wife” he says, threatening to seal his lips with yours. The arm that was holding you still sneaked around your waist, applying a little too much pressure.

“Do you think I like the thought of other men touching or even smiling at you?”

Oh… so he was jealous.

His lips gently brush your neck as you set your eyes on the moon, waiting for the moment to be over. His touch is vicious, possessive, and harsh. The trail his lips have followed from your collarbones to your throat ends in your chin, mere inches away from your lips.

“If we can even consider this love… you have an odd way of showing it” he lets you go, the cocky smile on his face never leaving.

“Love or not… you are going to be mine”

“I’m also the heiress of the Emperor. We’ll see about that, Geta.” You spit bitterly, literally running away from him.

You have converted into an enemy for him. And you had to be ready to walk cautiously. Because you had changed your mind. Perhaps you would lose the crown… but weren’t going to marry him.

…

You missed dates so badly, but then the following morning, when a plate of them was included in the morning, you couldn’t resist. You are eating alone. Until the doors open and your father appears followed by two guards.

“Father…” you stand up, making a reverence to him. He smiles, extending his arms to hug you.

“I have wonderful news. We’ve arranged an encounter for you to demonstrate your abilities in combat” You are extremely confused.

“What?” Your father sighs, breaking the hug.

“I’m aware you performed in celebrations back in Alexandria. This is just the perfect opportunity to show the senate and council you are a prepared lady to receive the title of Empress one day…”

“Father… as much as I appreciate the intention. I’ve performed as a way to train for battle; gods forbid us from having to go to war, but… here, your soldiers and slaves fight for the mere feeling of feeding the greediness of hierarchy. I can’t do that…”

You weren’t a target for the empire to show off. You were more than just a woman with the ability to carry a weapon. You valued your freedom. And ever since arriving in Rome, day by day, you feel that you keep slipping away from it.

“The decision is taken. Heavens know why but the official announcement of your engagement with Geta remains being delayed. Hence, I won’t turn the Senate and council against me when there's no need. I may only wish you good luck, dear” You remember Marcus. He could have voted against the encounter. He was the General.

Suddenly you are bursting in anger, making the coldest reverence to your father as he leaves.

Your angry steps lead your way to Marcus. You found him taking a rest on a nearby balcony. When he spots you, his smile vanishes.

“You couldn’t impede that brainless idea of me participating in a combat?” Marcus has to sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He was expecting your anger to be honest.

“I couldn’t say no. If it did, they would suspect. I already have your brother behind my back all the time” You can fight him because he’s right. But it doesn’t dissipate your anger.

“You are going to be fine. I may be able to arrange the rules. I can choose the gladiator that will fight you, but your father and brother have the last word. What weapon do you want to use?”

“The spear…” he nods.

“Female gladiators tend to wield the bow and sword. You can easily disarm her…” you are not scared, you are just frustrated.

“Teach me the methods warriors use here…” you mutter. Marcus nods, taking your hand and giving an apologetic look.

“You will win, my dear.” His fingers place some strands of your hair behind your ear, it melts your anger and transforms it into peace. You want to scream how much you desire him. But you must retain your feelings given the hatred days you were living.

“Let me thank you for the training in advance, General,” you say, getting on your knees.

“Good girl…” Marcus whispered as soon as your tongue started working on him.

…

The usual crowd in the Colosseum couldn’t be compared with the amount of screams and cheers from the people watching the emperor’s daughter fighting one of the greatest female gladiators in Rome; Calista.

The sandy floors were covered in an elegant tapestry that marked the square where the show was occurring.

You are sweating, there's blood running down your chin and you can’t breathe correctly. Calista was ordered not kill you, but for some reason, she seemed to be personally trying to knock you out.

She had a helmet and armor in gold and red. But it was hard to deny everyone was invested in the attire you wore. A golden mask of Neith, the god of war that covered your face and a gold vest and bare shoulders. Everyone thought you were insane for that.

You remember all the things Marcus told you. Soon after your father started the encounter, you learned gladiators were blinded by the necessity of seeing blood on their rival instead of following a technique of combat.

Calista’s sword is sharp enough to give you a long cut by the movement of a soft swatch. You yelp in pain and she kicks your ribs, making you fall to your knees.

Marcus stands worried from his seat, but he soon returns to his place after making eye contact with Geta, who sends daggers with his eyes. Marcus understood your brother was insane when he disapproved of the gladiator he had chosen. Geta picked the most sanguinary and violent warrior to fight you.

Marcus couldn’t do anything. But he was impressed by your skills. He sighed with joy everytime you slipped from Calista’s touch. Even your father was displaying a face of proud.

But it’s not the same for you. You enter in panic, knowing you are at full mercy, almost dropping your spare. Your father is about to stop the encounter. The crowd is impossibly louder. You want to throw up. The sweat mixed with nausea, the cold air of the night, and the dryness in your throat are too much to handle. But you refuse to lose. With the sharp edge of the spare, you cut Calista’s calf. She’s startled, ready to strike back when your leg pushes her on her back. The heavy sword she carries makes a loud noise. Her skull crushes against the floor. It gives you enough time to stand, place your foot in her throat and point the spare against her forehead, ending the encounter.

The cheers are disgustingly excessive. But you’re done. You did what your father asked. You take off the mask and look at your brother in anger. Geta offers you a fake smile. He was surprised to see you were able to slip away, from his evil plans, from defying your father.

You offer your hand to Calista, but she refuses. She looks like she wants to kill you. But she only reverences your family and leaves.

Everything is forgotten when you set your eyes on Marcus. You want to smile and run to his side. He sees you with adoration. He sees the reincarnation of Psyche in you. A woman who Marcus swears it’s even more graceful than Venus and Persephone themselves.

Marcus Acaius makes a decision; He must marry you.

…

After a banquet, your bones and muscles ache with each movement you make, but you run towards Marcus. You need to see him after such a long day. He waits for you in the secure spot of the farthest tower. His light robes and leaf crown are securely dressing him when you spot him. The gold in his attire matches your bronze bracelets and indigo dress.

He’s the man you desire. He’s the man that had offered you a real demonstration of affection. He wasn’t trying to manhandle you like everyone before did. It’s more than enough to make you think your prayers to Venus have worked. You collide in his chest, giggling.

“I love you”

Both of you say at the same time. It leaves you shocked. Marcus smiles and you have to kiss him to believe it’s real.

“I promise you… we’ll be together” you nod dying out of happiness. He kisses you back and you feel you want to cry out of happiness.

What feels like a second was an hour of kissing.

And Geta was able to witness some of that time. Drowning in a monstrous wave of jealousy, he ran towards the Emperor to accuse you of adultery. But it was too late, your father was out of the city for the rest of the day. Geta is beyond enraged with the news. So he sends part of his father’s cabinet to a brothel, hoping his evil plan would work.

Later, when he finds you going towards the garden, he fastens his pace to harshly grab your forearms and stop you.

“That General is no good for you.” He spits with disgust as you squirm away from his touch.

“Neither are you” you fireback, stepping backwards.

“Go find him. You should know he just uses you to have our father’s approval. So I insist you, go find him and see what kind of man he is after you leave his bed” You raise your hand ready to slap him, but you don’t. You simply turn away and keep walking.

Geta’s words echo through your mind. You question him, valuing the honesty of his words. Marcus was a man after all. There wasn’t a perfect man nor a perfect woman, but you liked to believe there was still good in the hearts of the people.

Perhaps Marcus would be disappointed by your mistrust. But the uncertainty of his loyalty was something you couldn’t risk.

That night, you go out in a linen cloak, hunting the man you love. The guards won’t know you went out prowling around the city.

It’s late, but not for the city. Although is not crowded, there are a lot of people in the market. You let yourself wander across the place. There’s handmade stuff that women and kids sell. It makes you think about power and how not all of the people had it. If you ever became Empress, you wanted to see a prosperous and bright city. You want to ensure them with security and peace. You want to get rid of eccentric stuff, including gladiators.

The sound of music along with laughter draws your attention to a specific place. At first glance, you think it’s a tavern. But as your feet made it to the entrance, you gasped in shock. There are more men compared to women. The females are scattered around the place. Some feed grapes to men. Others dance and use their bodies to charm. All of them have their chests bare, showing their breasts and silver bracelets. It shocks you to see some of the females naked, kissing between groups of four or more and almost fucking them at the sight of everyone. The wine smells cheap, the whole place smells like sweat and sex combined.

You see from afar a large table of men. Your eyes look at the head of the table and it causes a great mix of confusion and intrigue. Because it’s your Marcus who’s seated with those men. He talks and looks seriously intimidating with his sword resting on the table. Your heart starts racing as a woman gets closer. She raises her hand to touch him. Marcus turns to look at the woman. She has short blonde hair, pale skin, and purple fabric that barely covers her body. Your eyes water at the sight. Your lover, who promised find the way to be with you hours ago is there, surrounded by naked women and you can hear him cursing. When the blonde woman is about to sit in his lap, you leave the place running away. There’s not even time to tear yet, you are completely covered in shock and disgust.

Soon you are back. You gasp for air, opening the doors of the place you call home. Two guards let you enter and you throw your cloak to the floor. When you look at the end of the long hallway, you spot Geta talking with his counselor. At the sigh of you, he indicates the man to leave. You want to leave him behind so bad, you avoid his eyes but it’s his voice that stops you.

“I told you so…” he says with an evil smile.

“Be quiet…” his laugh is loud and it angers you more.

“He doesn’t care about you. Acaius only cares for power. He could never love you-“

“SILENCE!”

You push him towards the granite bench behind and he is taken aback.

Even more when you lean to smash your lips with his.

It’s disgusting. There’s no care, only two individuals fighting for control in the lips of each other. Even the beetroot juice you applied hours ago has transferred to your chin and Geta’s. His hand is resting with pressure on your nape, and you slightly pull his hair, making him groan before kissing you even harder.

Just when you are about to sit in his lap, you stop. You look at him in horror. There’s no way you just kissed him. That you almost succumbed to his touch. But you remember Marcus with that woman. What were you doing?

Geta sees you quietly crying before standing up from the bench and watching you bolt.

You run to the meadows. The place where everything began. And at that moment, you realized you had completely failed.

Fighting in that encounter with Calista for what? Unnecessary approval of men who would surely die before you birthed your first child.

You pleased your father to live in peace for what? To carry the weight of a narcissistic brother and a traitor lover.

Your prayers were in vain. The love you wanted to find was over before it even started. Because it wasn’t real. You should’ve stayed back in Egypt. Maybe you should have married Geta on the first day. At least whatever he did to hurt you would have a payback. But with Marcus, it resulted in an excruciating pain that you had never felt before. Which makes you feel so ignorant and brainless. All that ego your mother had helped you build collapsed at that moment. You just wished for a remedy. Which for sure didn’t exist. But there must be a way, to make everyone feel at least a drop of what you have.

—————————————————————

part two or what? (Literally didn’t add the part I wrote for the sneak peak lol)

taglist: @drewharrisonwriter @my-dearest-agent @yellowheartz @spookyxsam @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle @uncassettodiricordi @kluvspedritooo @littleblackcatinwonderland

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 19 - Criminals

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Only when Vhagar settles on the beach, do you notice the crumbling ruins of an old castle, its shattered walls peeking through the trees like a mischievous child.  

People had lived here once, you think, and for a moment, you almost envy them, spending their lives in a place where the forest meets the sand. How strange and beautiful, you’d never seen anything quite like it. But even the beauty of such a place, could not distract from its location.  

How much time had passed since you’d left the party? Surely close to an hour by now, yet here you were, on a beach instead of your chambers. 

“This is not the Red Keep,” you say, anxiety quietly twisting in the pit of your stomach. 

But Aemond laughs, not nearly as concerned as you are on matters such as time or propriety.  

“You have a keen eye, Lady Baratheon,” he says, and his tone is flippant, teasing. 

"Need I remind his grace that he was supposed to be returning me home?”  

“All the way to Storms End? Now that would be quite a ride.” 

You turn to face him, “you're not funny.” 

But he was funny, at least in his opinion, and his cheek twitches with amusement, while his eye widens with feigned innocence, “I'm simply trying to clarify what my lady means by home .” 

“Is that so?” you begin, a little tartly, well, very tartly, “because I’d say you were being a fastidious arse who knows fine well what I mean by home.” 

Any ordinary man might have been aggrieved by such an accusation, but not Aemond. His grin is entirely guilty and fiendishly unapologetic.  

“Fastidious arse ?” he repeats, “that is what you call your prince when you want him to return you home?” 

Your eyes widen, but there’s not enough alarm in the world to douse the fire suddenly burning in your belly, “I will not beg you if that’s what you imagine.” 

“On the contrary, I'm quite content to know that my lady will have me grovelling at her feet for the duration of our marriage.” 

So cocky. Even if you actually wanted to marry him, you wouldn’t do it. 

“Oh?” you say, “and who is this lady that has agreed to be your wife?” 

He purses his lips, and there’s a wicked spark behind his eye, before his hand settles on his thigh, reminding you just how dangerously close you’re sitting to him. “I’m working on it,” he nods to the ropes on Vhagar’s neck, “now climb down so I may continue.” 

“And if I refuse?”  

Aemond’s head tilts, his hands suddenly grasping your hips with far too much enthusiasm, “then I might start believing that my lady would rather stay seated on my lap?”  

“I’m not your lady,” you insist, sliding your fingers around his wrists to pull him away. But he seems to have just as much enthusiasm for the way you're fighting him than he did for touching you. 

He struggles against your grip with a soft breathy chuckle, his efforts not enough to free himself, but enough to make you hold him tighter. Firm and steady, the illusion that you could ever truly hold power over him.  

“Vhagar needs to rest,” he says, as though it explains your stop at the beach, but it only forces you to glare at him. 

“You’re lying.”  

He doesn’t even try to deny it, he only grins wider, testing the strength of your grip again. 

“I’m not going to ask you to take a dip in the water, if that’s what you imagine... unless you want to, of course,” he teases, and why you let him crawl under your skin with such ease, you cannot say. But it seems that's all it takes, to get you to do exactly what he wants.  

Blowing out a breath of frustration, your leg swings over the pommel, and if you weren’t so irritated by him, you might have been more afraid. As it happens, you’re beginning to think you rather prefer Vhagar over her master. At least she doesn't speak, or look so dammed smug. 

This is what you think, as you climb all the way down her long neck with the kind of frenzied confidence only anger can provide, and before you know it, your feet have hit the ground and you don’t wait around. You storm down the beach, away from the tooth and fire end of the dragon, and more importantly, away from Aemond. 

"Will my lady be walking all the way back to Kings Landing?” he calls after you, and you do not slow.  

Maybe you will walk back. Maybe you’ll walk right into Alicent’s chambers and say that her precious son stole you away on dragonback- though she’d probably like that. She may have even been the one to suggest it! And the very thought makes you want to scream, so you do, feeling powerless as you kick up a big clump of sand.  

“If that is your wish, then you are heading in quite the wrong direction,” he calls again, the sound of his voice so much closer than before, and you stop, anger quickly turning into rage. 

“Just when I think that perhaps you might be somewhat tolerable, and that maybe we can actually be friends,” you snap, hair tangling wildly with the wind, as you turn to face him, “you prove yourself to be the most insufferable man that has ever lived!”  

“Are we not to be friends on a beach?” he says, as though your reaction was a surprise to him, though you can see he’s enjoying it either way, and why wouldn’t he? You’re completely at his mercy. 

“Were we friends, you would not trap me here!” you shout over the crash of a wave before crouching down to scoop up a ball of sand, which you promptly throw at him. 

He dodges it, arms spreading wide, “I see no shackles, no prison walls.” 

“Do not press me,” you throw another ball, which he dodges yet again, “or take me for more of a fool than I have already been!” And you were a fool, yet again you were the most foolish girl on the beach. 

It was hard to remember what exactly you had been thinking in agreeing to leave the party with him. Certainly nothing rational. But Aemond didn’t want you rational, he wanted you here, miles from home, with the sea lapping at the shore and the stars your only witness. 

He could keep you here all night, and even if he didn’t lay a single finger on your skin, you would be his, no questions asked. 

“I do not think you a fool,” his voice is soft, coaxing, “I think you’re...” 

“ What ?” 

His lips curl, “the most terrible aim imaginable.” 

You throw a third ball of sand, and as if to prove his point, it misses, and he proceeds to laugh. So, you throw a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth in quick succession. 

“If you actually manage to hit me with the next one, then you have my word that I will take you home this instant,” he baits, knowing you’re just as competitive as he, and you suppose that’s part of the fun, if you could call it fun. You'd rather call it attempted murder with the only weapon you had at hand. 

Crouching down to scoop up a fresh ball, you don’t waste it on a shot that might miss, you charge towards him, and Aemond runs away, clambering up a grouping of large rocks which form a sort of staircase towards the old ruins.

“Craven!” you shout, pursuing him as quickly as you can go, but finding your dress, and Aemond’s cloak, enough to hamper your every step.

You’re panting by the time you make it over the rocks and onto level ground. But you’re not giving up. You’d rather eat this ball of sand than let him win. 

So you edge closer to the thick of trees surrounding the old keep, hoping his hair might give him away in the dark, but he’s vanished, or to put it another way, he’s hiding. 

Returning to the beach and waiting him out would surely be a more sensible strategy. Yet, your patience has already worn too thin for strategy, and you can feel him watching. No doubt wearing that oh so familiar smirk he seems to acquire whenever you feel your blood begin to boil. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you say, the words more demanding than playful, and the sound only met by the screech of an owl, and the rustle of leaves. 

Still, despite the rush of nerves which shiver along your spine, you keep moving. Creeping towards a watch tower covered in ivy, while the ground below your feet, changes from grass to checkerboard tiles in the places where nature has not quite reclaimed the earth. 

If it wasn’t so dark, you might have found it more enchanting. But with the tree cover filtering the moonlight, and another screech of the owl, your heart begins to thud. 

This was yet more madness. There could be wolves or boars or bears lurking in this place, and you have to dare yourself to keep going, deciding to never speak with Aemond again if he jumps out and startles you.  

But it's a whistle which catches your attention, and you spin around, looking up to see him standing on the second floor of the tower.   

“How did you get up there?” you demand, moving to where the stairs have caved in, leaving only two steps to bring you closer to him, and both of them slippery with moss. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he taunts, walking to the edge of the floor before crouching down. 

“Do your worst,” he dares, and if he stays still, you’re feeling quietly confident with your chances as you take the time to roll the sand between your hands, fashioning it into a perfect sphere. 

Then you arch your arm back, and launch the ball as hard as you can, before watching the way it soars through the air, fast and sure, but too heavy, too flimsy. Aemond doesn’t even bother to flinch as it collides with the floor, eliciting yet more laughter. 

“This is why I hate you, you know!” you say, wiping your sand coated hands onto the soft folds of his cloak, and finding at least some pleasure in that. 

Still laughing at you, Aemond scrambles down from the tower with relative ease, before stalking closer, slowly , as though it's you who’s the most dangerous creature in these woods.  

“You don’t hate me,” he decides, “you just hate losing.” 

“I can hate two things at once, and I only lost because you ,” you point your finger at him, “had the advantage.” 

“What advantage?”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing boots, not these,” you hitch up your skirt and kick out your foot to show your shoes, dainty and made for dancing, “nor do you have to wear a gown. I should very much like to see how you’d fare if you had to scale a tower without any trousers on-” 

Just as the words leave your lips, you hear them, “I mean , you know what I mean.” 

With his laughter simmered to a soft chuckle, he lets your blunder stew in the air before inching closer. 

“Then perhaps I should remind my Lady Baratheon that she has two eyes, and the aim of a blind woman.” 

You scoff, taking full offence even if he is right, “and I suppose you're an authority on throwing balls of sand?” 

“I’d say that hardly matters anymore, and now you’re obliged to stay until I say we leave.” 

It was strange, but you’d somehow forgotten the reason you'd been chasing him in the first place, and anxiety quickly returns to the pit of your stomach. “And if someone notices I’m gone?” 

“It’s still early. They'll be drinking and dancing for quite some time I should imagine.” 

Deep down, you knew he was right, but there was always a chance, even if it was a small one, that one of your family would retire before the party was finished, then what? “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a prince, you can do as you please.” 

“Don’t worry,” Aemond promises, his voice serious even if his eye betrays him, “if my lady's virtue was to come into question, then you can be assured I would do the honourable thing and marry her.”  

“The honourable thing?” you repeat with a sharp laugh, “a punishment far worse than the accusation, I’m sure!”  

He moves closer, the toe of his boot grazing against the hem of your gown, “but not the crime?”  

You try to laugh, but really, it wasn’t hard to imagine such crimes as letting him kiss you, or the way you might fall together on the soft mossy ground. In fact, it was all too easy. 

“We are not speaking of this,” you whisper, though you hadn’t meant for your voice to lose all strength, or your body to lose all resistance, when his hands bunch into your cloak. No, his cloak. His smell.  

“Only thinking it,” he suggests, fingers curling tighter, reeling you in, “I must admit, I seem to think of little else.”    

You can’t look him in the eye, if you do, you might say something crazy like ‘so do I.’ Instead, you say, “then his grace needs better hobbies to occupy his time.” 

Aemond snorts, “perhaps you could teach me to embroider, that would certainly take up some time.” 

Trying to act more annoyed than you feel, you attempt to wrench the cloak from his grip, “perhaps lessons in manners would be better suited?” 

“Oh, I’d say it's far too late for that, wouldn’t you?”  

And he does let go of the cloak, but only so his hands can slide to cup your cheeks, and force you to look at him.  

“It’s never too late...” your words trail off, evaporating into the crisp night air. In fact, the whole forest seems to have fallen silent, perhaps the whole world, and you know you can pull away from him. But your heart is pounding, and there is something dangerous, something wanton, curling in your veins.   

Perhaps Aemond feels it too, perhaps he notices the way your breathing has slowed, just as you notice the way he’s looking at you, so tenderly- 

“Do you think Vhagar supposes where we have gotten to?” you blurt, and his eye brightens in surprise, as you tear yourself from his hands, before quickly turning towards the beach. 

Though your swift exit is certainly hampered by the rocks, which seem even more difficult to descend than they had been to climb. You almost fall down them, before Aemond overtakes you, his hands catching your waist to stop your escape. 

Or perhaps he’s just trying to stop you from breaking your neck. Either way, you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you’d been running away from him at the beach. 

The sound of the waves had been just the same, and your heart had been beating just as quickly, but your reasoning had been different. He'd been a stranger then, now he was the opposite, too familiar.  

“Perhaps it would be best to return to the party,” you say, as though returning to the party was not the least of what you wanted to do.  

“Why?” he almost laughs, “ so you can dance with Lucerys Velaryon?” 

You’d forgotten all about Luke and his half-hearted offer of a dance, but Aemond hadn’t, couldn’t , and even though his tone was light, there was quiet fury in his eye. Fury which could be abated so easily, except you didn’t want that, you wanted to turn the tide of conversation. Needing to shift it from a place where you might easily fall into his arms.  

“Why do you hate him so?” you say, even if you’re almost certain you know the answer. 

“You know why.”  

“I know rumours.” You’d heard a dozen since arriving in Kings Landing, but you’d often wondered at the truth, Aemond’s truth, even if it didn’t feel like your place to know.  

“Of the night I came to lose my eye?” he says, and hearing it said like that, you realise this was a stupid, awful , thing to bring up.  

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why ?” his head tilts, “you think me ashamed of the way I look?” 

“I...” you stutter, “didn't say that. I don’t-” 

He scoffs, “everyone pretends they cannot see my eye, when for most people, it’s the only thing they ever look at.”  

"It’s not the only thing I see,” you say, and you’re not sure why it's so important for him to know this. You were supposed to be hating him after all, but you can’t stand to think he’d ever imagine you don’t see him. All of him.   

He doesn’t say anything, and his attention turns towards the sea, his hands no longer interested in your company, and you can sense the old wound, still fresh and sore, as though it had happened only yesterday.  

Now it was you who felt like the most repugnant person in the world, and you hate yourself for the way his shoulders have stiffened, the breeze feeling so much cooler than before. Because no matter how you might have felt about Aemond Targaryen, you were sure you never wanted to hurt him. 

"Aemond ,” you reach for him, your hand finding purchase on his arm, and his muscles tense beneath the leather. Perhaps you shouldn’t notice such a thing at a time like this, but you can feel his strength, feel how he could break you apart if he really wanted to.  

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you say softly, wanting to bring him back from whatever dark place you’d sent him. But it's too late. 

He stares at the way your hand is touching him, before his eye slowly scrapes to meet with yours.   

“I was ten when I saw Vhagar on the beach,” he begins, his voice small, raw, and hearing him like this, somehow feels more intimate than any of the times he’d held you in his arms. 

“You were so young,” you say, picturing the white-haired boy, who’d dared to face the largest dragon in the world.  

“Not for a Targaryen,” he swallows, his words garnering more control, “you can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up in this family without a dragon, even the bastards had them. So, when I saw her, all alone, it was like she was waiting for me, while the rest of the world looked the other way.”   

You glance at her, sleeping peacefully on the brow of a hill, but still so fierce, so terrifying.  

“At the risk of giving you another compliment,” you say, trying to lighten the mood you have created. “I cannot believe you had the courage to tame her.”  

“You never tame a dragon.”  

You frown, uncertain, “but she is yours, is she not?”  

“It's a bond, one that will last a lifetime. And I don’t know if it was courage, so much as desire...” he steps up, so he’s standing on the same rock as you. Then his eye crinkles with the beginnings of a smile, or perhaps it's just pride for the boy he was that night. “The first few minutes of the flight almost killed me. But I clung to her so tightly, and then we were flying as one, and I knew she was mine.”  

You both turn to her now, and she snorts as though she’s listening. Perhaps she is. Perhaps her eyes are closed but her ears are open. 

“When we landed,” he continues, and together you settle down on the edge of a rock, knee pressed against knee, “I was so excited and... perhaps a little too proud, I could hardly wait to tell everyone of my triumph. But my nephews were already waiting for me, with Rhaena and Baela, and they already knew what I had done.”  

“What you had done ? You make it sound as though bonding with her was a bad thing?”  

He tilts his head, looking at you strangely, quizzically , “Rhaena wanted Vhagar for herself.”  

“But ... she chose you .”  

“And so we fought.”  

“You fought all four of them?”  

When his eye narrows into a pointed look, you cannot help but laugh, “of course you did.” This was Aemond, a child who’d mounted the largest dragon in the world, he wasn’t about to run from anything or anyone.  

“Hand to hand at first, and naturally ,” he shrugs, “none of them were any match for the hours I’d spent in the training yard. But even so, I was only one boy against four, and they just kept coming.” 

“After a while, I picked up a rock, I just wanted to frighten them,” he holds out his hand, his fingers curling at the ends, as though he can remember the very shape and weight of it, “but Jace drew his sword, just a little thing, a needle really.”  

He looks at you, and your stomach tightens, afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“He tried to swing at me, but I was taller and faster, so I knocked him down, and the sword fell away. I thought if I just kept hold of the rock, then surely they would run. It was already over, you see? Vhagar was already mine. And I’d bested them, they knew that.”  

Suddenly his hand tightens into a fist, and you imagine the rock crumbling into dust, before he wipes his palm along his thigh as though he cannot even stand to touch the memory of it. 

Then he laughs sadly, “but my nephews and I have never held any love for each other. So, when Jace saw an opportunity to throw dirt in my eyes, Luke picked up the sword, and -" 

His hand reaches towards your face so quickly you startle. But his touch is not pain or blood, it's a slow caress across your eye, sealing it shut. Yet only for a moment, instead of forever.  

“An eye for a dragon is a fair exchange,” he shrugs, but the words feel too well practiced; the hurt pushed away as though its nothing more than a speck of dust.  

Yet it was so much more, and you have to swallow the swell of tears which has caught at the back of your throat, as you think of that little boy, so proud, so excited, then broken .  

“No ,” you say, your voice strained, “what they did to you wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair.”  

The way he looks at you, almost surprised, makes your heart ache all over again. And if he was one of your sisters, you would wrap him in your arms, and hold him so tightly he'd have to fight to break free. But doing so, would cross a line you were trying desperately to avoid. 

“You know, the strange thing is, I don’t even hate them for taking my eye. We were children, and the fight was far out of hand, but they never apologised. Even now, they laugh about it, like it was a joke, like it meant nothing .” 

You hadn’t wanted to cry, but your eyes are too full, and a tear dares to break free, rolling lazily down your cheek, before its silvery trail is interrupted by the brush of Aemond’s thumb.  

“Lady Baratheon... don’t tell me you’re crying for the most repugnant man in the world?”  

Sniffling, you force a laugh before wiping the back of your hand across your eyes. “ I'm not .” 

“You know, now that I think of it,” his voice is lighter, his eye more playful, “it seems I have a habit of finding all the best things waiting for me on beaches.” 

You roll your eyes, before finding a length of cloak not sullied by the sand to pat your cheeks dry, "I’m not a dragon.”  

“Not yet .”  

The way he says that last word, so certain, you almost believe him, and force another laugh to hide any other emotion which might slip onto your face. Because sitting and talking with him like this was far too easy and far too comfortable.  

“Speaking of which,” he continues, “since my many charms have yet to convince you to stay in Kings Landing, does that mean I am to invite myself to suffer a winter in the Stormlands? Or will you be so kind as to bestow me an invitation yourself?” 

“Suffer?” you repeat with mock surprise, “I happen to like the stormy weather; I think it very beautiful.” And cosy, there was nothing better than a warm bed and a raging storm to pound against the walls.  

He brushes your hair from your shoulder, his eye tracing your face, “I’m growing rather a taste for storms myself.” 

“You should think me tame if you ever flew through a storm over Winter Solstice.” 

“That I refuse to believe,” he says, close enough that even a whisper is easily heard over the waves, and leaving you to wonder why every moment, seemed to shift into a moment which felt like he might just lean in and kiss you.  

“Well ,” you stand, pulling yourself from his gentle touches, “thanks to your mother, and this gown,” you gesture along the green silk beneath your cloak, “we are not leaving tomorrow after all.”   

Aemond’s eye widens, the blue so much brighter than before, “you’re staying?” 

“Only so we can entertain Tyland Lannister.” 

His jaw ticks, “Tyland Lannister?”  

“It's just tea ,” you add, thinking Tyland might not have been your favourite person, but he wasn’t bad, and you hardly wanted him to suffer over tea and cake.  

But Aemond doesn’t seem so convinced, and his laughter is almost a growl as he stands, and begins to climb back down the rocks, before turning to offer you his hand, “then we should leave at once, I wouldn’t want my lady to miss an afternoon in the company of another man.” 

“I’m not your lady,” you remind him, climbing down haphazardly without his assistance, “and if you must know, it was my mother who invited him.” 

“Your mother?” he ponders this information as you walk back towards Vhagar side by side, “then we shall have to remedy that .” 

Alarmed, you stare at him, trying to read his expression, but his face shows no tells. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” you say. 

His lips quirk and he has no intention of telling you. Instead, he mounts Vhagar with the same swiftness he’d used in the dragon pit, leaving you to wonder. 

Then again, you don’t wonder for too long, because all too quickly, you begin to remember that you weren’t supposed to be on a beach with Aemond in the first place.  

Then you’re only wondering one thing; if it's late enough for you to be caught. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[yanderes-galore]

Hi! Could I get prompts 7 and 10 from your list with Rhaenyra Targaryen?

Sure! Here's a short of Rhaenyra with an obsession she used to be close, only for them to join The Greens.

Yandere Rhaenyra Targaryen Prompts 7 + 10

"All this blood? It's all for you! Everything I do is all for you!"

"I've given myself all to you! Yet you call me a monster!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Mature themes, Angst, Violence, Medieval marriage practices (Viserys/Alicent), Targcest (Rhaenyra/Daemon), Manipulation, Kidnapping, Dubious bedding mention/implication, Murder mentioned, Forced kiss, Forced relationship.

Young love is such a fickle thing, isn't it?

When Rhaenyra was young she was exploratory with relationships. She's had some guilty temptations deep within her chambers. However... nothing compared to her first real love.

You were part of a House sworn to the Targaryens, sworn to her father, the king. When your father came to do business with the council, you were often left in the Red Keep. That's when Rhaenyra met you... often speaking with you and Alicent as you sat in the royal garden.

You've always been pleasant company to Rhaenyra. Your presence around the Red Keep due to your father's work was something she often looked forward to. It was to the point she often abandoned her books to search for you.

As you both grew up, feelings naturally grew. You stick by the young princess as her life slowly crumbles apart... forced to watch as her best friend marries her father. However... who didn't leave her...

Was you.

Such dedication during your visits sparked something in Rhaenyra. When you two got older, even when she was married to Laenor, you two often met. Rhaenyra never hid her feelings from you. She was always open with you.

Unfortunately she had to hide such a... relationship with you from prying eyes. Rhaenyra, as an adult, was already considered promiscuous by many. But you had truly captured her heart since you were young.

The unfortunate thing is the fact you wanted nothing to do with her once the Dance started.

Your father, a man Rhaenyra still has a grudge with even with him dead, told you to stay away from her. Your loyalty naturally stayed with her father, then soon Aegon II. Loyal to the crown...

You finally abandon her...

A thought she can't deal with, even as war wages on around her.

Rhaenyra never understood why you chose King's Landing over her. Were you tempted by the role of being on Aegon's council just like your father? She could've given you that and so much more.

Rhaenyra gave you everything she had. Even when married to Laenor and Daemon, she kept coming back to you. She risked her reputation for you because she loved you.

Did you really think she'd sit back and let you go?

Rhaenyra never thought The Greens deserved you. She'll never understand how you could've chosen someone else other than her. You two were lovers... not Alicent. Not Aegon.

You've always been hers.

Rhaenyra originally planned to let you go. She wanted to forget you... you're with The Greens now. Unfortunately, late at night, she can't get you out of her head....

It was only a matter of time before Rhaenyra ordered your capture. She never revealed her true intentions, she simply said capturing someone from the council could provide info on The Greens. Plus, you'd be more receptive as you merely knew each other.

Your connection was so much deeper than that.

To Rhaenyra, it didn't matter how much blood was spilt to drag you to Dragonstone. She herself would've taken Syrax to demand you be handed over, yet Jacaerys convinced her otherwise. King's Landing shouldn't be your home... Dragonstone should.

Rhaenyra ordered you to be treated with care when taking you in. Not a hair on your head should be harmed. Anyone else, their blood can stain the streets.

You hadn't thought much of your previous lover until Meleys crashed Aegon's coronation. The dragon's rider, Rhaenys, had meant the visit as a threat... yet she also came with another purpose. Rhaenyra had very specific orders...

Which lead to you being kidnapped atop the Red Queen, dragged back to Rhaenyra like some insolent child.

Anyone who attempted to stop the dragon was quickly burned or made into dragon feed, Aegon's coronation ending in a smoldering fire. The thought made you sick. People were injured... People died...

All because Rhaenyra wanted you.

It was your fault, wasn't it?

Rhaenyra wanted a warm greeting when you arrived. Part of her wanted you to crawl back into her arms like she missed. But the queen knows better.

A cold glare was what she really expected... even after she gave you your own chambers close to hers.

She tries her best to be patient with you. You'll need some time to readjust. Although... She's getting tired of intercepting letters you keep sending to The Greens.

Any little spies you keep trying to inform are often slaughtered, their heads brought to her for proof thanks to Daemon.

The bloodshed Rhaenyra does for you is supposedly out of love... but you obviously don't view it that way.

"How much blood have you spilled, Rhaenyra?" You coldly ask the queen when she enters your chambers to check on you.

"This is war, my love. Blood is going to be spilled." Rhaenyra answers back, watching you quietly as you sit at the desk she provided.

"You've killed innocents, Rhaenyra." You frown, glancing at your captor. "You killed people because you don't trust them, all because I was around them-"

"You want to know why I spilled their blood, don't you?" Rhaenyra cuts you off, stepping closer. "I did it because of you."

You go to protest, only for Rhaenyra to stand in front of you. She cups your cheek, looking at you fondly. It's a familiar feeling... but you no longer have feelings for the queen.

"All this blood? It's all for you! Everything I do is all for you!" Rhaenyra confesses. "You left me all those years ago to join The Greens... you broke my heart, love. Naturally... I had to take back what was mine one way or another."

"You're a monster." You cry, terrified of the woman in front of you as you bat her hand away. The queen pauses momentarily, watching you with a dark gaze.. To think you once found it pleasant to bed her....

"A monster?" Rhaenyra scoffs, amused yet hurt. "I've given myself all to you! Yet you call me a monster!"

You want to fight her more but she grabs your chin, pinning you to the desk you were sitting in front of. You gasp, fear in your eyes as Rhaenyra glares down at you. A fury like no other burning in her gaze....

"If anything I'm a dragon, dear..." Rhaenyra purrs, holding your face with both hands. "A dragon who wants nothing more than to take what she wants... what she deserves...."

You want to show more defiance, to show how much you despise what she's become... but Rhaenyra is quick to silence you. The queen has been patient enough, quickly pressing her lips to yours. The kiss stuns you... all while Rhaenyra groans at the familiarity.

She's missed this.

Expertly Rhaenyra leads you away from your desk, herding you like a sheep as she lightly pushes you on your bed. You may hesitate, you may even curse and fight her... but she knows you'll break eventually. She knows you love her still...

She just needs to show you what The Greens can never give you...

That you've always been hers since the start.

[dragon-ascent]

Touch-Starved

An account of giving Zhongli affection.

★彡domestic fluff, zhongli is baby

Normally, Zhongli is the one to shower you with affection and love. He makes amply sure that you feel cared for at all times, and that you know he loves you more than anything else.

But when you turn the tables, your husband shows you a whole new side of himself. He's been touch-starved for centuries, after all. Shower him with kisses all over his face, and he'll melt like ice cream on summer's hottest day. A low, deep rumble would reverberate from him, oddly calming to you as well. Who knew a god could crumble so easily at the hands of a mortal?

He even purrs when you cup his cheek! Just like a cat after a satiating meal curled up beside a window, Zhongli purrs softly, nuzzling your hand with his cheek. His eyes close in bliss, reveling in the softness of your touch and the affection it heralds. To him, there is nothing better.

...But when you finally retract your hand, don't be surprised if he huffs and opens one eye to stare at you unsettlingly - until you finally bring your hand back to cup his cheek, of course. Then he sighs contentedly and leans into your touch once more. He only needs this for a short while longer, after all. Maybe...six hours? Six hours more, and then he'll let you carry on with your day.

Zhongli's generally one to wake up early and get started with his day, but when particularly affectionate, he simply prefers to relax and sleep in if it means he can hold you for longer. When that happens, be sure to give him lots of good-morning cuddles; it lights up the Geo archon's day brighter than the sun.

In a marriage, standings such as god and mortal don't matter, as it is a contract between equals. Zhongli truly understands the meaning of this when you bring his head to rest on your lap, your fingers gently running through his silky hair. He could fall asleep right there on your soft thigh, and dream of all the peace and serenity he had fought all his life for, and it would still pale in comparison to the way he feels when he stares up at you smiling softly down at him, gazing at him like he's the very picture of love.

It puts a smile on his face, too. With your fingers lovingly tracing his skin, he truly feels like the embodiment of love.

[tsspromptmonth]

Cafe Menu Drop!

Hey Babes, we'll be hiring baristas next week starting on the 21st, so watch out for my truly insufferable number of posts about that. On that day we'll post a link so you can send in your application or like whatever.

Now since this is a cafe we figured y'all would want a menu, but like fanfic has so many options so this is just the basics, more will probably come.

Important Deet: Our baristas can't work for free and you pay in comments! Writers are needy bitches who need encouragement. Our hand-crafted stories will run you 1 comment per 100 words, so for a 500 word request, you'll 'pay' in 5 comments on any Sanders Sides story.

The Sleepy Bean Café serves up a range of story sizes: you get to request the size you're craving! The biggest size the machine can handle is a quintuple shot: 5000 words. (That's 50 comments for you big spenders out there!) Sometimes, our baristas are having such a blast mixing up your request that they add a little extra and go over the size of your original request. Consider that a bonus and the managers will look the other way.

Full text under 'read more'

Our baristas think they're creative and might add a little somethin extra from the menu, so if there's anything you just can't stand, better tell us up front.

And for all you barista hopefuls, six days til the hiring process begins. I'm gonna need a lot of bitches to make all these drinks.

~Remy XX

Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe Menu

More options available by request.

Drinks (Setting or AU)

Brewed Coffee = Canon Verse Steamed Milk = Soulmates Latte = Human AU Hot Chocolate = Parental AU Herbal Tea = Magic AU (Modern day or fantasy) Machiatto = Time Travel Cappuccino = Gods AU Green Tea = Merpeople

Milk (Tone)

Skim = Hurt/No comfort 2% Milk = Hurt/Comfort Heavy Cream = Fluff Oat Milk = Ambiguous ending Coconut = Crack taken seriously Olive Oil = Crack

Syrup (Characters)

Starfruit = Janus Loganberry = Logan Peach = Patton Kiwi = Remus Cherry = Roman Cranberry = Virgil

Toppings (Tropes)

Whipped cream = Only one Bed Caramel drizzle = Childhood Best Friends Chocolate sauce = Fake Dating/Marriage Chopped nuts = Arranged Marriage Burnt sugar = Time Loop Chocolate Shavings = Mutual Pining Honey = Sick Fic Cinnamon = Enemies to Lovers Nutmeg = Love after Loss Blended = Found Family

All drinks are 1 comment per 100 words with a 500 word minimum.

Specials

The Serpent God

A cappuccino with 2% milk, starfruit, and crushed raspberries. (Gods AU, hurt/comfort, featuring Janus, and hiding a fatal injury.)

Space Jam

A boba with starfruit, kiwi & Loganberry jellies, blended with honey. (Space AU with Janus, Remus, & Logan, found family sick fic.)

Peach Berry Sweet Treat

Peach/Loganberry Cobbler Latte, with ginger cookie crumbles. (Human AU, only one of them knows they are dating with romantic Logicality.)

Melting Clocks Crumble

A macchiato with burnt sugar topped with whipped cream. (A time travel AU with only one bed, time loops and a choice of characters.)

Lost in Space

Boba tea with steamed skim milk, kiwi/peach boba. (Soulmate Space AU, romantic Intruality, hurt no comfort.)

Winter's Comfort

A mocha with 2% milk, topped with caramel drizzle, nutmeg, and chocolate shavings, syrup to taste. (Parental human AU, hurt/comfort, childhood best friends, mutual pining, and love after loss, any characters.)

A Classic

Herbal tea, with 2% steamed milk. (Human magic AU, hurt/comfort, any characters.)

Cinnamon Sunrise

Steamed milk with cinnamon. (Human AU, with enemies to lovers. Your choice of characters, tone, and tropes.)

[lightlycareless]

Hiii, I just imagined a scene where Naoya and y/n sleeping in the same bed, but they don't get along, because y/n hates him for the things he did, but then he asks her with the most pleading voice ever: "can I hold you?" and it just melts my heart. (for the arranged marriage au)

Hello!!

This was really sweet and angsty :( I had to write it I'm sorry. lol I won't distract you from it now!!

Anyways, here are the warnings: misogyny. arranged marriage. you're getting yelled at.

Happy reading!!

Also, I'm unsure where this arranged marriage au came from, but I tend to take it as a guiding point as the context behind naoya's and y/n's relationship hahaha—unless this is referring to first it hurts? unsure unsure... hope you like it anyways :3!

If were talking about a marriage that even when having a rough start, Naoya and you still managed to fall in love…

Then we gotta go all the way back to the beginning. Where you don’t know Naoya at all, and technically, Naoya doesn’t know you either.

Yet, he still knew he wanted to marry you. Because of all prospects out there, you were perhaps the best choice… or maybe there was something deeper inside him pushing him to favor you?

But regardless of what you and Naoya think, the moment both clans know of their suitability, an agreement was struck, a marriage of “convenience”—intended to obtain a better future, or at least a more tolerable present.

Due to the nature of this decision, you obviously weren’t consulted. Not even aware of until a week before the grand celebration!

Still, you did your best to call off the engagement. Justify that this union couldn’t amount to anything due to your ignorance regarding the Zen’in and their ways, how you wouldn’t be able to fit in what they considered appropriate, and how unwilling you were to put your family in such humiliation—things that were more than anything, trying to appease your clan’s approval, not truly reflecting your true emotions…

But the decision was firmly set, so much so that as soon as Naoya became aware of the faintest possibility of his engagement crumbling, urged your family to push the date earlier, just so you couldn’t argue against it any longer.

Eventually, the ceremony finally occurs, and while everyone is celebrating the union of a powerful clan and all the benefits that ensued, you couldn’t be any more dejected about it.

It was nothing but evident, even in the pictures taken afterwards, that the only ones happy about this were everyone but you.

How they were elated to see your suffering is something that you’d never be able to comprehend, as well as the “friendly” manner Naoya attempted to approach you, as if trying to distract you from the fact that he roped you into this union, probably even threatened your family into it given his clan’s reputation…

You didn’t want to do anything with him—nothing at all. Not even giving him a chance to get to know him. He didn’t deserve that.

All that he could get from you was nothing.

Nothing

And that would be apparent in the way you’d avoid him at all costs, to the point where even your marriage was not consummated during the honeymoon.

The Zen’in elders had yet to believe that such thing had been the truth; thinking it to be some kind of baseless rumor created from the owners of the ryokan both stayed in order to… well, humiliate the Zen’in heir—either way, they did not believe it. Didn’t think someone like Naoya could’ve allowed such transgression to occur...

But it did.

It was the undeniable truth: you did not want to be near him in any shape or form.

Because you didn’t even agree to marry him, what made them think you’d be willing to be intimate with Naoya?!

Unfortunately, your reasoning isn’t something the elders from both his and your family cared about—they simply wanted to see fruits of this union to cement their agreement as soon as possible.

And to achieve that, they started pressuring Naoya to act.

Naoya would try to first “ease” you by giving you gifts, as his relatives would suggest, for “women, as much as they’re sentimental, they’re also materialistic. Specially the modern ones.” They’d say. “Give them a few things, tell them nice words, and you’ll see how easily they succumb to your demands.”

Naoya didn’t question their patronizing words, nor cared to demand respect towards his wife, because at that point, feeling both humiliated and perhaps discouraged by your aloof behavior, all that your husband wanted was to close the broadening gap between the two, one that had evidently grown bigger and bigger with each passing day.

The gifts started with basic things he believed girls liked, such as: jewelry, clothes, accessories… objects that you didn’t end up paying mind to, or actually liked for they were none of your allure—just to highlight the fact that he knew nothing of you, nor bothered to find out.

Given the failure of this attempt, Naoya swiftly believed you were the type of person that liked to be rewarded with a good time, going out and such.

And while Naoya wasn’t particularly fond of these activities, not when he’s already gotten what he wanted, didn’t mean he was sympathetic to the fact you were nothing but apathetic to his alternatives—if anything, you appeared to be disgusted by them.

Naturally, it didn’t take long for Naoya to grow desperate beyond this point.

Yes, he imagined that something so out of the blue couldn’t sail smoothly at the beginning, didn’t expect it either… but shouldn’t his efforts count for something? Be recognized for what they’re worth? For what they represent?

It’s not easy for him, it couldn’t be for someone raised in the circumstances he did.

But if the things that are worthwhile take effort, then why isn’t he seeing results??

Naoya is tired of the way you dismally behave towards him. The way you always ignore him, the way you act like he’s not even there, when he’s your husband, the man who you will more likely spend the rest of your life with. The father of your children!

Yet, you act like he is nothing.

At the thought, alongside the nth failed approach, Naoya loses his cool.

Dropping everything on the spot and yelling his frustrations at you, careless of who saw, where he was, in such way a way that lets you know he has been holding onto this for a while now—

And that he’s not only capable of that, but more.

Naoya didn’t mean to.

Naoya didn’t intend to… lash out the way he did, yell as loud as he did, insult you as harshly as he had done…

But it simply came out like that.

His emotions getting the best of him, completely overriding any semblance of common sense, decency… and seemingly putting down the last nail onto the coffin this marriage was doomed to be enclosed in from the very beginning.

The only time Naoya manages to snap out of his trance is when he sees the frightened, tearful way your eyes look back to him, body trembling, throat tight, speechless, as you take one, two steps away from him, before turning around and running away, to seemingly nowhere he could find you for the rest of the day.

Your husband was never one to measure his words, care about the way they could impact others, but when he sees the consequences of his actions for the first time in his life, he quickly finds himself regretting all that he done towards you, immediately urged to mend whatever he could before this marriage crumbles even more—if there was anything to rescue by this point.

But as much as he considered himself to be diligent, a good sorcerer, with a keen eye that nothing ever escapes him, he can’t find you.

No matter where he searched, or how many times he’s asked the staff to cooperate, demand an answer of your whereabouts less they wanted to be fired, you were nowhere to be found.

At one point, Naoya believed you had escaped the estate. Even though there was nowhere for you to run given the location they were in, he couldn’t overrule this possibility thanks to your prolonged absence, to the point where he’s already gathering up a search crew to find you—

Until he finds you back in his bedroom, lying on your side of the futon, with your eyes to the wall, as close as the edge as possible, just as you always did when sharing a bed with him, already deep into slumber.

The first thing anyone would’ve done is demanded an explanation from you, seek to know where you’d been, reprimand you for thinking this was even right in the first place…

But all that Naoya could muster is a sigh, relieved to see you again, seemingly well, and there with him once again.

Yet, as much as he is glad to see this familiar sight… he knows nothing has changed.

If anything, it just worsened.

Naoya is tired.

He doesn’t feel like putting up a fight, or stopping you when you inevitably move away from him once he joins you in bed; so, all that he does is dismiss whatever plans he had in mind before changing out of his attire, stepping into his nightwear, slip onto the futon, and drift into sleep, which he assumes will happen in a matter of minutes.

But it doesn’t.

No matter how much he tries, how many sheep he counts or how many numbers he goes through, Naoya cannot succumb to his exhaustion, ignore the presence next to him, nor his desire to be close to you.

Even if you were there, he doesn’t believe it. He can’t believe it.

Because for a moment, for a very, very brief moment, he thought he’d lost you.

And it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

He knows, deep in his heart, that his attempts haven’t been nice. He knows that his actions hadn’t been ones that many would consider right when trying to approach their partner, seen them fail countless times in the past—

But even with all these failures, having lead them to nowhere…

Naoya still wants to be close to you. Wants to be in your life, and you in his.

He doesn’t ask for much, he never needed much if he’s being honest.

To simply have you there, alongside him, was enough to achieve what he considered his own personal happiness.

So, with all the pain in his heart for his actions and the relief to have you there with him for another night at least, he is urged to move closer to you. Slowly shifting onto his side and sliding closer and closer to you, until he’s barely inches away from you.

Naoya’s never said it before, but his thoughts always remained the same when it came to it: he loves your scent. The overwhelming way it filled his mind, with thoughts of nothing of you…

Of the shiny way your hair looks underneath the sunlight, how soft he imagines it to be, or at least has the idea from the brief times he’s touched it, regretting how he always seemed focused on everything else but that, how he would do anything to thread his fingers through it, or make your face brighten when he compliments it.

And of course, the undeniable, most vital thing he could not live without: your warmth. The sensation that always welcomed him whenever joining you at night, which he wishes he could bask in all the time, every single second of the day: when coming home from a long day at work, or when he’s feeling particularly down.

Naoya would do anything to have you in his arms, and to not feel like he was forcing you to be there, trapped with nothing less than your tormentor.

Was it too much to ask?

… will he ever live to feel such a thing?

Can today… be the difference?

“Y/N.” Naoya whispers, softly, enough to not wake you up if you’re already asleep, but loud for you to hear if you. “Are you… awake?”

You don’t answer, yet… Naoya knows you’re awake given the way you unwittingly tense at his voice—just about the common way you’d react to him.

But even if this was proving to be the same as any other time… his heart still felt like this could change.

Or perhaps hoped it would.

“… I didn’t mean to scare you, you know?” He continues, but you still do not respond. Perhaps you were asleep after all…

Until a sniffle proves him wrong.

The sound, albeit small, was tremendous in Naoya’s mind, resonating in every crevice of his thoughts, rattling his heart and shattering whatever he had left of it, guilt settling deeper into his soul.

If he had any doubt that he had been a mad monster towards you, the same kind that his family often bred into existence—

Your tears ruled him out of any uncertainty.

To believe he embraced these ideals in the past…

But not anymore.

Because all that he cares about now is caring for you, the way he always should’ve done, and comforting you from the struggles he knows he put you through.

One step at a time.

“Can I… hold you?” he whispers, there’s still no answer from you…

But it’s maybe in the tone he asks you, or because he asked you in the first place, that you don’t do anything when his arms hovers around you, don’t put up resistance when he finally touches you, wrapping you into an embrace and pulling you towards his chest—Naoya taking in your warmth, a sentiment so… soft yet welcoming, he never thought he’d be capable of experiencing in his life.

Yet, he did, here, with you, his wife.

The only woman he has ever set his sights on for something more than just a good time, the only person he feels he could do far more than just have there, living with him, inspired him to go to the end of the world and back, just to see her smile.

Naoya always believed that something silly as this could never happen to him. Thought it stupid, delirious, an invention for people to not feel as pathetic and lonely as they really were.

But now that he’s had a taste of that emotion, or at least something he considered remotely similar… Naoya doesn’t want to let go.

Naoya wants more. Wants to know if he’s deserving of such, wondering if this could be his reality, a marriage that wasn’t built in frustration, fear, the constant disgust for the other, or convenience…

He… wishes to believe so.

All that was left then, was to know if you thought the same.

Maybe, considering you didn’t push him away…

…

…

Truth to be told, you had your own thoughts, your own doubts; naturally.

The question of whether there was any hope for you to begin with constantly lingered in your mind.

If there was even a reason for you to remain here if Naoya had been nothing but less than desirable, and that’s without even considering his family.

How little to nothing your husband had done to defend you, alongside excusing those that have wronged you, or how he intentionally keeps you isolated from the world for some unknown reason…

And now, intimidated you into thinking your life could be in danger through his own furious actions.

Any other night you would’ve rejected Naoya, just like you always did. You would’ve pushed him away, demanded to keep his hands to himself, as you did your best to survive the night.

It was obvious by this point that you didn’t sleep—no one could expect you to do so in these conditions; how you even managed to stand up in the morning without passing out due to exhaustion was a surprise, but at the same time, it’s not like you could do anything else: whether you tried to separate yourself from him, the staff and his relatives always pushed you against it.

So, it’s why you were here again at the end of the day, in his futon, listening to his surprising request…

Which you should’ve rejected, especially after the horrible way he treated you for rejecting him again.

Yet, you didn’t.

And maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that he asked you for the first time…

But not only did you not push him away, you stayed there, and allowed him to touch you.

Because at the end of the day, just as Naoya thought it impossible for him to feel something nice, something he once considered delusional, stupid, impossible…

You also wondered if this is what it felt like when having a husband that cared for you.

That held you with intentions of protecting, cherishing, and not to demean and humiliate…

To have a partner to love and be loved by.

Only for tonight, you’ll let his actions answer for you.

I like to think that after this, things begin to improve between the two 🥺❤️

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask! I really enjoyed diving into this particular scenario, agghhhh 😭😭😭 I cried a bit.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

(p.s. something like this will happen in my main fic aagagaaggagagaa spoilers)

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 2

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Here to present this week's chapter art is @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Hello, I have a quick message that I would like to add to today's chapter. I want to make note of something that happened in the past week. I received an uptick in messages asking about when the next chapter of Soft Spot would come out. While normally I try to make myself as accessible as possible, the way these comments/questions were framed were incredibly disrespectful. I will make my stance as clear as possible.

Do not go on my other works and mention updates of others.

Do not ask me repeatedly when an update will happen.

I strive to post weekly, but when I am bothered, these types of repetitive comments make me not want to indulge. I write at the speed at which I do because I like it, but the fact that that is somehow not good enough or that another of my works is supposedly is lesser to you because of it is a form of disrespect that I will not tolerate. I should not even have to say this because it violates common decency (which is comical considered that's a mention in this chapter). I understand you are excited about this new content, I am as well, but please understand that I am a human being. I will still be open for any and all questions, but do be mindful. Thank you for your understanding.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜

“You must clarify if that was instigation.” Donatello had a death grip on your bare knees.

You weren’t exactly sure when you had lost your pants, but it made sense they were gone. “Donnie.”

He squeezed you tighter.

You covered his hands with yours. “It’s starting to hurt…”

“It is the only thing keeping me sane. Answer.” He didn’t relent.

You dug a nail under one of his digits to alleviate some pressure. “I’m not against having sex again, but I mean it.”

“Truly?”

“Donnie!”

“Y/N!”

“Yes, I mean it! I want to have a kid with you! I’m not hitting up your breeding kink; I’m telling you I’m ready!!!”

He only gaped.

“Do you really not believe me…?”

He made a weary noise and you could feel through your bond that he wasn’t the least bit convinced.

“How many times do I need to say it?”

“More.” He begged.

“Help me clean up.”

He nodded and flew to grab tissues.

“I want to have kids with you.” You told him the moment he returned.

He helped wipe you clean.

“I want to have a kid with you.” You told him the moment you felt dry.

He helped you to your feet and you headed to the restroom.

You went, washed your hands, and cracked the door with the hand towel still in your grip. “Kids, me and you.”

You caught him flapping his hands excitedly as he disappeared around the partition.

“Let’s have kids!” You called out as you walked after and felt painfully aware of how you only had half your outfit on.

He thrust an arm out from behind the wall with your pants and underwear.

You took them and chuckled. “It’s so crazy you’re being shy because you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me naked when you, you know, knock me up.”

You heard some part of him slam into the wall so hard you thought he might break through.

There wasn’t a crumbling sound so you put your bottoms back on. “Like with a baby.”

You heard his footsteps plod wayward and you finally gave proper chase.

You found him with his fists in the air where he appeared to be thanking your rooftop garden. “Baby.”

He turned in a blush.

“Baby, baby!” You ran at him.

He fled around the couch.

“Donatello!! My sweet and darling husband and mate…?” You sang for him.

He was nearing the dividing line between rooms and peaked at you between the fingers covering his face.

“Would you like to have a child with me?”

He nodded once.

“You sure?”

He nodded again.

“Sure, you’re sure?!”

“Yes!!!” He launched himself over the back of the couch and pulled you down with him into the cushions to snuggle.

“There you go, believe me now?” You teased as you wriggled to get comfortable.

“Ah!” He popped a waiting sound.

You stilled and looked up at him. “You don’t-?”

“Not that!” He scolded and righted you. “My preparations!”

“Donnie…?” You let him sit you on a cushion.

“You’re not staying there either.” He was up and moving towards his computer.

“Donatello, I need you to say you believe me.”

“It will come with a demonstration.” He said and tapped a screen to wake the system.

You listened to him tap in a flurry and got up to follow.

A dozen or so screens appeared and when you tried to look them over, he blocked you with his body.

You crossed your arms.

He grinned and then pulled his office chair out for you.

“Is this where I’m allowed to sit?”

“Yes. This is your preferred seat.”

You took it and he immediately spun you around so you could watch both him and the monitors. He then stepped back, appraised your distance and began to adjust. It came with about a dozen tiny tweaks to the chair’s position that were barely perceptible to you, but he eventually appeared with a self satisfied nod. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.” You shifted bored, but ready in the chair.

He took a step back, checked the monitors about as much as he had your seat before he flicked forward.

Screens projected off their spots and curled around him for a globe of information.

“My dearest. My heart. My love. My partner in this life and any others.”

You waited with a hopeless smile.

“I would love to have a child with you.”

You twitched wanting to meet him again.

He watched you with a similar gambit, but shook himself to stay in place. “What you see here is all my research associated with our childbearing.”

You tabled your excitement as best as you could and looked over the data.

He blinked and it began to scroll to show that it was even more than what was being displayed.

Your lips rounded in surprise.

“Years worth of calculations, studies, notes, and any other information necessary for our push to have progeny.”

You flicked your eyes over the screens one last time before you settled squarely on him. “How long?”

He quirked a brow.

“Have you been building this?”

“From the moment our intent at sexual relations arose.”

“Donnie! What?!”

“It starts with birth control!” He rebuffed your irritation. “To not have children means I needed a basic understanding of how we might in order to negate the possibility!”

You straightened a little as that was sound enough logic.

“I… didn’t examine otherwise until we expressed the possibility.” He looked a little embarrassed and moved a screen for the sake of it.

“Then you looked into how we could?”

“You expressed concerns that we might not be able to conceive. A reasonable worry. We also mentioned adoption.”

You nodded.

He followed suit and then sat back to look at his many years of computations.

“I’ve-”

He outright startled at the sound of your voice.

“Come here, the chair placement doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“It does!” He dragged out his whine but collapsed onto his knees in front of you regardless.

You pulled his head into your chest and cradled him.

The chair’s wheels slid, but Donnie held you in place.

“I love you.” You told him.

“I love you.” He replied.

You urged him to look at you before you carefully lifted his mask to place a kiss to his bare forehead.

He churred as you then put the fabric back in place.

“We don’t have to hurry. Presentation or not, let’s go through this however we want. Sound good?”

“Yes… No rush…” He spoke the words as if to convince himself.

You kissed his clothed head this time.

He churred louder and moved up to catch your lips once before wondering, “What were you about to say? Before.”

“I’ve…” You gave a little struggle. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I’ve never asked you how the birth control works...”

He lit up with excitement.

“Will you tell me?” You nurtured the prospect.

“I love you!” He yelled before flying to his feet. “My birth control!”

You watched as he sent some screens away and brought more forward.

“When I set out I was limited…” He addressed a specific hologram. “This one of my own volition, mind you.”

You tilted your head.

“I swore not to track you and while I didn’t swear to your secondary statement, you mentioned you did not want to hold my hand through the relationship. While the latter was difficult for both of us, I found duty in the first and saw to it not to manipulate that holding.”

Your brow came down to enhance the question on your face.

“I personally vowed to respect your privacy then, as an extension. In that moment.” He told you earnestly.

You hadn’t known that and your face warmed a bit.

He took you in with tenderness. “A choice made rash, but thankfully one that ended up falling in line with the accursed common decency.” 

You bobbed your head in both agreement and for him to carry on. 

You could hear his churr from where you were. “As such I was not aware of your body’s make-up, meaning I did not gather samples of your DNA or the like. After our first kiss, it felt as though a dam was broken and I got to necessary work. By our first date… It didn’t seem far-fetched to believe we might also partake in relations. I thought myself over-prepared until we saw one another.”

You remembered that night fondly.

“But that is moving too far forward. Planning began after our first kiss as a precaution. I tested local and Hidden City condom brands. I also dabbled in making my own until I found a suitable one for my member if that was what you so chose… We were meant to discuss such an option…”

“But you had already put yourself on the birth control.”

“Yes… I hoped your proclivities aligned with mine…”

“Breeding kink.”

He shot you a heated look. “I converted you.”

“I never said you didn’t.” You responded the same.

He chirped as an outlet and blew out necessary air. “Ahem. Again, I had no bodily data on you and I needed to prevent my sperm from fertilizing your eggs if they were to be introduced. Birth control typically functions the same amongst all forms: stop fertilization. This can be done in a number of ways from negating ovulation, release of an egg, to making the ureteral environment one not suitable to support pregnancy.”

You nodded.

“Altering your make-up was out of the question as it tampered with bodily will-”

“You wouldn’t slip me something without my knowledge.” You remembered.

He nodded appreciatively. “That meant I needed to stop my own gamete. How to stop a sperm and a mutant one at that?"

You nodded.

“It proved… difficult. As you surmised, I was additionally designed to breed. Be it leftover DNA structures or the fool Draxum’s concoction, species hinge on viable offspring and my fabrication made it especially so.”

“Obviously your sperm are mutated because you are, but what? They get their own superpower…?” You chuckled.

He didn’t not share the comedy. “Yes, actually.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” He sighed. “When tested they were especially resilient. Commercial and yokai brand spermicides were inefficient. The condom kept them contained, but they were tenacious. A typical condom, we’ll consider both human and non in this case, is 98% effective when used correctly… In my case that number bobbed around 83% because even a single one of my sperm, given the necessary liquidity and need I remind you most condoms are lubed, had the strength to search true for its host.”

You gave a frown.

He nodded with large eyes. “I looked into mystic concoctions then. So many side effects, so many impurities, none made even close to a facsimile of my unique chemistry!”

“So you made one.”

“I made one.” He agreed. “I dug into male contraceptive research and found one that disabled sperm. As that was my exact intention, I chose that particular medication and ran with it. There were hormonal and non-hormonal methods, but I needed complete assurance that my sperm would not inseminate you under any circumstances. That led me to my current concoction, the one I am still on, a shot that inhibits tail maturation in sperm.”

You blinked once. “Your sperm…”

“When examined under a microscope, have tails that do not provide motility.”

“So you’re not shooting blanks, you’re shooting… sperm that can’t move.”

“Exactly. If you’ve seen films regarding fertilization, you will note that it takes quite a bit of mobile effort for a sperm to breach an egg. With the necessary mobility, they sit useless until they perish.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, I had to hyper-escalate study and production to ensure it was viable in time for our meeting.”

“We barely set a few weeks for our date.”

“A dangerous prospect, but I had checked that morning before and found a sample was completely immobile and thus felt assured we would not have issue.”

“Donnie…”

“While I would still prefer that I never injured you during our first meeting, I must admit your recovery was advantageous as it gave me time to further refine the product for its necessary long term use.”

You nodded.

“While my personal study was rushed, the medication was undergoing the usual technical trials at my lab. We found it reversible given time as it will evacuate the system. It works by suppressing the necessary enzyme production. For the typical specimen, it took longer to go into effect and there was a lengthy duration for its dissipation, but again, completely safe and repeatable. For my dosage, I take a monthly shot that covers my needs…. Our needs.”

You smiled at him.

“Which… unfortunately leads me to my heat…” He grimaced.

You made a nervous noise and vaguely remembered something from a certain video.

“We had no idea what was going on. I had only summations. Barely a hypothesis. It was a scientific nightmare scenario.”

“You overdosed…”

He blinked wide at you.

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. showed me some security footage that first time. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I remember him being worried about side effects from some shot.”

Donnie looked at you with a sort of hopeless affection. “You are a delight.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“As much as it pained me, I had to go off conjecture which was that my sperm production would be increased. If that were the case, it reasoned that my body ramp up enzyme production. In studying mammalian heats, in which I have mammal DNA along with reptile, there was an exhausting list of side effects that could tamper with the medication: heat, hormones, and more. I had to cover them all while not being lucid, which I wasn’t, and therefore I created a hyper concentrated dosage of the birth control which had the threat of untested side effects…”

He stopped completely.

You watched your mate hang in the air.

“Donnie…” You whispered.

“There was… a chance that my enzyme production may not stabilize if I were to ever stop the medication.”

You straightened. “That…”

“Is not something I have been able to test as I continue to take the medication. There is a chance my sperm motility might not recover.”

You tented your hands over your mouth.

“A necessary risk. Your safety superseded all else. At the time of my first heat we had never yet discussed children. I wasn’t going to let an accident like that fall upon you due to my inane biology.”

You nodded, feeling a little weepy.

He broke from his presentation and came to you.

You hugged him as soon as you were able.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head.

“I am. It was not something you had a say in.”

“None of it was. We didn’t know what was happening.” You squeezed him. “You made the best decision you could at the time.”

He gave one nod before he buried into you.

It bothered him more than he admitted.

How long had he been struggling with that knowledge?

It must have been a hanging bitterness against his dream.

He’d endured it all alone.

“I should have asked sooner.” You told him. “About the birth control and all this.”

“You trusted me. I meant to earn that. Plus, it is not known for sure.”

“But you worried.” You pulled back to see his watery eyes which he tried to hide. “You’ve been worried about it all this time.”

He gave the barest nod.

“You could have talked to me…” 

He wilted against you. “I prepared the presentation. It seemed a waste to bring up any sooner. Unnecessary discomfort that would have taken us several months to test. Between that and time to re-establish my medication, I would prefer to spend it making love to you and not concern myself with some unknowns.” 

You kissed his temple. “There’s a lot to plan and see. We had a feeling this wasn’t going to be so easy. We’re… you’re still… okay with adoption… if we need to?”

“Of course!” He spoke without hesitation. “It is the same in my mind. No less.”

You nodded and tapped the tip of your nose to his beak.

He gave a cutesy mating call for it.

You trilled one back.

“Let’s see…” He stayed close and looked back at his screens. “Where does that take us…? It will take approximately two months for the birth control to evacuate my system. We will know around then. It’s not exact. Then there’s your ovulation schedule if we were to try to conceive. What are your thoughts on giving birth?”

“That’s…” Your gaze shot away. “W-wasn’t this about your notes…?”

He didn’t pressure you in the slightest. “I’ve explored many possibilities. What I discuss next depends on what we’re considering…”

You snuck a glance at him.

He pet your leg in a soothing way.

You let him stroke the limb until you built up a bit of courage. “It’s… scary… In general and… and I don’t mean this is a bad way… but with a mutant… partner…”

Donnie nodded and dipped down to gently rest his chin against your leg.

You ran your hand over his head and whispered. “Can I pass a spiny carapace…?”

He looked up with a gaze that was both sympathetic and unsure.

“Pregnancy and childbirth… take everything from you. It ravages your body…”

He laid his hand out as a comforting weight.

“I know that’s what you’d prefer, but…”

“I prefer nothing. I prefer you.”

It was the perfect moment to interject.

“It’s a fear as old as time itself. It has gotten safer, but the dangers are still incalculable.”

You nodded.

“I only ask for the sake of direction. You do not need to decide now. I will not pressure you as there is no provocation.”

You thumbed over his cheek.

“Raising a child is no different than creating one in my mind. Whatever instinctual itch will be scratched.”

“You’re lying…” You whispered. “I know what you thought about a sonogram...”

He was similarly as caught as you had been and looked away.

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t.” He snapped back to attention. “Your concerns are founded. I am the concern. My mutant status…”

He made a little move and you released him.

He stood and summoned more screens.

He pointed to one in particular that had a set of chromosomes on it.

“The truth is… and this labeling is the best I have considering, but my DNA is elastic in nature, so to speak. From the many times I have examined myself, the closest labeling I have is that I suffer from a form of aneuploidy.” A few more chromosome maps popped up and had a different number of sets. “They can vary between cells. They have changed both with an increase and decrease throughout my lifetime. It is a wonder I am a stable organism.”

You took to your feet and came closer.

Donnie passed off his medical records.

You looked between them and the dates and saw they ranged throughout his lifetime. 

“Even if my sperm do recover, there is a likelihood that we are not compatible. That may come in the form of my inability to fertilize you to an inability of our cells forming a viable fetus.”

You pushed the screens away.

Donnie held a deeply saddened look.

It was yet another thing he’d held onto his whole life.

You hugged him.

He held you.

“I treated my ability to impregnate you as a grave concern, but the reality is I have always tempered my expectations. I never outright believed we were compatible in that way. I never believed it with anyone. I suppose that added to the taboo and enhanced the aforementioned kink. A space in which I can… have such a fantasy.”

You squeezed him as hard as you could.

He rubbed your back. “Mind, I also never expected to have a life partner or… make it this far in existence. My love, it’s alright.”

“But you got those things!” You lifted up and sent him a dewy gaze.

“And I will have more…” He smiled reassurance. “I… will admit… fine, adoption does not satisfy my instinct the same way as the thought of you round with my child…”

He took a little too long in his daydream and your lids fell, unamused, against your heartache.

“It’s not the same, but being at odds with my instinct is no new feature. Logically and emotionally I will be sated and I imagine my hindbrain will eventually make the necessary connections.”

You thumped your head against his plastron.

He swept his hands over you for a while.

You eventually gave in to a slight sway and he rocked with you.

“You need to check my DNA?”

“A blood sample ideally, yes. We could calculate compatibility.”

“Have you never checked with another human?”

“I’ve never run this analysis with anyone.”

You cuddled closer.

“Though… I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that genetics is a bit of an introductory topic. Meant non-demeaning as I am aware of the US educational system, but it is… as one might say, child’s play.”

“Bad pun.” You told his scutes.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to take your DNA to know our chances will be low. I would only need your genetic material to know exactly how low, but even that has a level of chance. Do you know of mules?”

“Donkeys?” You looked up at him.

He stared down a warm gaze. “Mules are a cross between horses and donkeys actually. The parent pair have differing chromosomes, but can produce offspring… only such creations are usually infertile.”

Your gaze widened with concerns.

If you had a kid with Donnie would they be sterile?

You knew this choice wasn’t going to be an easy one, but the amount of things to consider only seemed to grow.

“Usually. Not always. It can occur. Mitosis and meiosis. I can already tell you our chromosome numbers differ. Meiosis spits up our homologous chromosome pairs to create sperm and eggs which would meet for reproduction. They seek to match back up with their compliments, but ours leaves gaps which increases room for error. In mules, the lacking chromosomes from the donkey mean that all male mules are sterile, without question, but females can occasionally be fruitful due to the repeating chromosome formations.”

Your head spun a little.

“Without practice it’s hard to say. Those are separate species and they can produce offspring, but the next generation can’t. Lions and tigers are the same species, but also often create infertile offspring. I am part human and novel… We can go off what is known, but there will always be an element of unknown as a pairing such as ours has never occurred.”

“You mentioned mitosis…?”

“The process from fertilization on that creates a baby. The errors I mentioned would show up here in whether the pregnancy was viable.”

You made a little noise of vague understanding. “What about test tubes or clones…? It’s hard to believe yokai haven’t figured out some mystic cheat code too… You told me about womb tattoos.”

He almost sweat with guilt. “I may have indulged in a bit too much hyperbole…”

You hummed dry interest and waited.  

“Yes, womb tattoos have served to aid in fertility issues, but yokai constitute something that supersedes human rules of species. You have creatures who can naturally shift their form. If they chose to have offspring, which some do not, long life and all, little drive to reproduce, they have what I’ve been referring to as that elastic genetic material. It can match form to create those homologous pairs intrinsically. If the creatures are too different though, even mysticism has not superseded that. They’ll use surrogates if need be.”

You watched on.

“Clones and test tubes…” Donnie sighed and seemed obvious about trying to make the subject matter palatable. “I would still need other genetic material, I could not solely clone you or me. I could stimulate or even fertilize your eggs myself in a lab setting, but they would need to be gestated in a host. Artificial wombs are not something I can imagine we will crack in this lifetime. There is still too much we do not know. All that simulates the necessary environment in which a new organism can be created… The longest trials of gestation in an artificial setting have been about six weeks… or something similar? I theoretically could take that a few weeks further, but that would be asking me to break through an estimated hundred years or so of science on top of mixing our DNA? I… I fathom many unknowns. I’ve broken countless barriers, but that would be… our child! I would be the one directly responsible, using my own two hands, to make the fertilized cells. All that would go into their existence would lie on me! The mental toll of failure in that regard…!!” His closing throat cut him off.

You released his middle so you could tug down his neck in a tighter hug.

He dropped to his knees to give it. “Trial and error is a stage of science I usually relish in, but asking that while using our components…!”

“You don’t have to say it. I understand. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know…”

“You couldn’t have…” He rooted into you and you felt him let loose a few tears.

You kissed his head over and over.

He slowly, but surely pulled himself back from the possibility.

“Not that. Never that.”

You felt his apology through his ring and cut him off.

“No, Donnie.”

He begrudgingly relented.

You moved to scratch his shell, but his battle shell was in the way.

It nearly immediately withdrew from the spot and you dipped down his collar to grab the dormant plate.

Donnie opened up his posture enough for you to pull it out of his shirt, then you returned your nails above the fabric and scratched in the way he liked.

He slowly melted into you.

“We are not doing artificial gestation. Not at all. Where.. did that leave cloning?” 

“It is a similar impossibility to clone me. My unstable DNA. Finding a genetic match to mix with. Finding a host.” 

“You would only be able to clone me…” 

He squeezed you. “A child that is wholly not ours is one thing. I…” 

You felt anger bubble up in your ring. 

“The thought of another’s genetic material… applied in vitro… to yours…” He seethed. “I can’t stand it. I apologize. I refuse. The same with donor sperm. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“No… It’s okay… I wasn’t really interested in pregnancy already… I don’t care about it being me… I wanted… If anything I wanted it to be you.” 

He couldn’t muster a churr, but a faint loving squeak emerged from him. 

You breathed in the air. “There’s… so much… Is trying to have a baby… even worth it?”

Donnie was quiet.

“We should make adoption our go to, shouldn’t we?”

He gave a bare nod.

You leaned your head against his.

He sat still for a long time.

Your thoughts morphed. You thought about what you’d imagined in the park earlier today. Your mind’s eye saw Donnie and his little green duplicate. From the way your husband talked, there would be no way to even know if the child would be his color. There seemed to be thousands if not millions of possibilities and the outcomes recombination was even more with his mutant status.

You closed off the line of thinking and thought about adoption. There was the state paperwork to complete. There were thousands of children up for adoption across the country at any moment. They needed families and parents who would love them. You could easily see yourself providing that. You saw everything from troubled infants to even teens who you could care for.

That was only considering the human side of things.

Though Donnie had talked down about the yokai birth rate, there still had to be young ones who needed help. Their ages were further skewed and you wondered how you could provide with a human lifespan. You supposed that would help Donnie as he was going to outlive you, but wasn’t that in and of itself a negative way to think of things?

You pulled yourself from the thought only to find a mental image of you plump. You were waddling wide and had to stop for a break in that same park you were in just a few hours ago. You were in discomfort and blew out an exhausted breath. Donnie appeared doting with water and tales of pregnancy books he had read. He had done all the obsessive planning he had for your wedding, but in a new extreme form.

He was going to be an amazing dad.

How selfish were you?

There were children who needed help and you dared to imagine having a child of your own?

You cuddled closer to your mate.

Why would you cling to the scariest possibility?

Not only were you not sure you wanted to go through with it, there was a high likelihood that you couldn’t.

You were incredibly selfish.

An angered part of you also screamed.

You’d given up before starting.

You hadn’t even tried.

Hadn’t the odds always been against you and Donnie?

It was a miracle the two of you dated let alone married. 

You were happy on top of that. 

You’d endured endless trials.

You had never given up in the face of uncertainty. 

All you cared about was being with Donnie.

You’d done that.

You were here.

You were all better for it.

You pulled away from him.

He looked after you and searched your face for whatever it presented.

No one ever called you a saint.

You were just a person.

You pulled your hands from Donnie’s carapace.

He continued to examine you.

Donnie was the same.

Morality was subjective.

Lifetimes were about choice.

You’d chosen Donnie.

You would make more choices.

“I want you to do that blood test.”

His expression opened up to the possibility.

“Let’s try. There’s time. It’ll take some to get the results. It’ll take more for you to get off the birth control. There’s adoption wait times. All of it. We can take each thing as it comes and see what works best for us.”

“You’re… sure?”

“Are you?”

“I’m sure of anything that relates to you.”

You pinched his cheek. “This won’t be just me.”

“Part of you, whether in paperwork or DNA, is still you.”

You soothed the skin you pricked.

He smiled. “I’m sure.”

💜 NEXT 💜

Beta baby babes? The triple B's? @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[arlathavellan]

The Silence Left in My Wake

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: (past) Rhysand x Reader, Azriel + Reader, Morrigan + Reader, Cassian + Reader

Reader: she/her, High Fae, Y/N used

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 3.6k

<<request>>

For a while, you had convinced yourself they would come for you. Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan... Rhysand. It was the one hope you held onto over the years. But fifty years is a long time to hope for something that will never happen. || The world keeps spinning when we're gone. Unfortunately for you, that means when you're finally free after over fifty years of captivity, nothing is the same. Once told you would marry the love of your life and become his Lady of Night, you come come face-to-face with your new reality, and reunite with the family you had been waiting on to save you.

The Court of Nightmares was no place to dream. You had no hopes, no freedom, no choice in the life you would live.

Then came the High Lord; Rhysand. A dark force of nature, who came into your life like a terrific storm and upended everything you thought you knew. With Rhysand, you let your walls crumble, let yourself imagine a life outside of that mountain. There were politics to navigate before he could steal you away, of course, but he assured you that one day he'd sweep you off into his City of Dreams and make you his wife, his Lady.

But The Court of Nightmares was no place to dream.

Rhysand had the perfect story to spin for your father; a proper marriage alliance with the High Lord himself. Your father was not the ambitious fool your lover took him for. He knew there would be no true alliance, that marrying you off would be no better than sending you away to never hear from you again. After all, Morrigan was at his side, and Keir was no better in his good graces for it.

Cassian and Mor both advocated for taking you anyways, but you agreed with Azriel when he argued all the ways that could end badly. As much as you wanted out of that mountain, you wanted to truly be free from it. So, Rhysand continued his painstaking negotiations, with his patience whittling down to nothing. Compromise seemed impossible between the two bull-headed fae, and you began to wonder if the end was in sight.

Then, the worst came to pass.

Amarantha, who you had been carefully hidden from upon her visit to Hewn City (one of the only things Rhysand and your father could agree on), forever changed the the course of fate in one fell swoop.

It was Azriel who had visited you that morning, half-hidden in the shadows in case your father or one of his servants entered your room. He told you of the meeting Rhysand had been invited to with the other High Lords, Amarantha hoping to “make amends” for her actions during the war. He told you of Rhysand's plans to finally take you to Velaris, father be damned, before she was made aware of your existence.

"Pack only what you need," Azriel had said. "If Rhysand doesn't make it, I will come get you myself— Mor and Cassian have been preparing for you all morning."

You had laughed, sending him off with a chaste kiss on the cheek as he melted back into the darkness, his shadows curling around the hand you’d held against his jaw.

That was the last you had heard from them. For the next fifty years, you were well and truly alone.

-----

That night, your father had stormed into your room while you were getting your bag together. Grabbing it and you, he dragged you down to the dungeons and threw you in a cell with a simple “be quiet, and stay safe.”

It wasn't often that your father came to visit you himself. His visits became more and more scarce over the first few years, until you would go years before seeing him again. He looked more haggard every time. You were so lonely that you started to miss him.

You took solace in the darkness at first, but it soon became your greatest torment. Something would move in the corner of you eye and your heart would soar, thinking maybe—just maybe—those familiar shadows had found you. Maybe you would soon be free.

The wraith servants who brought you your food were your only company, and they barely said a word. The room was smaller than your bedroom, not much more than a cell with a bed, desk, and bookcase thrown in, and the bathroom had you longing for your carved tub.

No one would tell you anything. Screaming yourself hoarse got tiring after a while, and your father remained outwardly unmoved by your tears. A dread had crept into your chest, wondering if he had discovered Rhysand's plans to take you away to Velaris. He never mentioned it, but the timing couldn't have been more suspicious. No one had come for you, not even Azriel. How had he stopped even the Shadowsinger from getting to you? Surely the High Lord and his Spymaster had access to the Hewn City dungeon.

You stopped asking questions years ago. Now, you wallow in your monotony, reading every book on your shelf by dim candle light, and occasionally letting those delivering your food know that you needed new ones. They'd always bring you more the next morning, your father's scent, fir and petrichor, faint on the covers and pages. Some nights, when the isolation grew to be too much, you'd hold onto them and cry. You never thought you'd miss the days of your childhood, of him teaching you personally from his own library. You never thought you'd miss your father.

He'd never been like Keir, never treated you the way Mor was, but you'd certainly never have called him loving. And now, he'd locked you in a heavily warded cell and refused to tell you why. You started to feel an odd kinship with the monster you knew lurked beneath the stone, trapped here as you were, only seeing someone when it was time to be fed.

Time blurred together. How long had it been since Rhysand had promised to marry you, since Mor promised a shopping trip, Cassian promised to train you, and Azriel promised to make sure you made it to Velaris? Why had no one come for you?

"Who?" you ask, voice shaking as you sit up in your bed. "Why did you do this to me?"

Then, you’re woken one morning to some answers from your father.

"I'm sorry," he says, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to you. "I couldn't let them find you. They would have torn you to pieces just to hurt him."

A tense silence falls on the room. "Amarantha trapped the courts Under the Mountain. Rhysand stood at her side for fifty years, and his Inner Circle were unreachable."

Your heart plummets in your chest at his admission.

"I told Keir you were gone, that they had taken you before they disappeared," he continues, voice oddly soft. "I couldn't reach his daughter or the Spymaster, or even that damned General to take you away from here. He told Amarantha about you, wanting to get in her good graces, and she had that damn Attor tear the manor apart looking for you."

He runs a hand down the wall your headboard is against, and you get a peek at new scars across his skin as his sleeve falls at the motion. "This cell is warded heavily. If Rhysand knew you were in here, he was good at hiding it. But Keir kept sending his Darkbringers to check every so often, either hoping to catch me off-guard or just remind me of where I stand. This was the only place I could think of that even they wouldn’t search."

"What happened?" You finally ask. "Why tell me now?"

"Feyre Cursebreaker," he says with a resigned tone. "High Lady of the Night Court, and Rhysand's mate. She defeated Amarantha, and now we’re preparing for war with Hybern."

Nausea rises in your throat. Out of everything he said, Amarantha, Keir, war—one fact continues to ring in your head. "His mate."

“I’ve tried to get into contact with them since they reemerged, but they’ve refuse to hear me.” He looks back at you, and you wonder if his gaze has always looked so empty. “If Keir knows you are alive, he will kill us both. The High Lord’s lackeys are the only ones who can get you out safely.”

The stress of your situation settles heavily on your shoulders. “So I’m stuck here. Is that what this is leading up to?”

You watch his brows pinch as he considers for a long moment. With a weary sigh, he stands from your bed. “I’ll bring some stationery.”

He drags a heavy hand down his face, but makes no move to deny it.

“Let me write a letter,” you say. “They may not listen to you, but I may have more luck.”

-----

News of the war ending comes long before any response. A letter a month for three months, before they start getting sent back. Perhaps that in itself is a response. The first time he brings a letter back, you let yourself break down. It had been years since you had any hope hopes to crush, but you had let yourself imagine for a moment that it could all be over.

What was even waiting for you out there, now? Your future had been stolen from you the moment the High Lords put their trust in Amarantha, the moment Keir turned his gaze your way. Perhaps it was always supposed to happen like this, with you alone in the end and Rhysand with his mate and High Lady.

In the end, it's Keir who lets it slip and hands you the key to your freedom. Keir, whose mouth works faster than his brain, who looks for any opportunity to hurt his daughter. Keir who sneers, asking how Rhysand’s Hewn City pet felt about being pushed aside for Feyre Archeron.

And it's that daughter who finds you. Holed up in your cell, sitting on your bed and reading anything you can find to take your mind off of your eternal solitude.

It scares you, the way she throws the door open. Her eyes are wide, breath ragged, as if she'd run all the way down to the dungeon instead of the simple winnow she'd more likely done. You hold her gaze, eyes burning as the silent disbelief stretches between you. Setting your book down carefully, you stand from the bed slowly, as if moving too quickly would make her disappear. She stumbles forward, and you find yourself meeting her halfway as her arms wrap around you almost too tightly.

"I thought he was lying," she says, voice shaking. "I wanted him to be lying. I wanted to go back up there and tear his tongue from his lying mouth and—"

"I'm so sorry, Mor," you manage, squeezing her just as tightly.

"Rhys said you were dead, Y/N," she presses. "Your father—"

"Has been trying to tell you all."

A sob chokes its way through her throat, and you're soon joining her. You hear her try to ask more questions, most starting with why, but she seems to find the answers herself before she even gets them out.

"I'm so sorry, Mor," you repeat.

Your reunion doesn't last in peace much longer.

"We have to tell them," she says, face buried in your neck. "Cassian, Azriel— fuck, Y/N, we had a funeral for you. There's a bird bath in the garden with your name carved into it, we thought you were dead. Cauldron, we were just down here, how did we not…"

Pulling from her, you wipe your damp face with your sleeve. She doesn't let you go too far, an arm still wrapped firmly around your waist as she dabs at her own watery eyes.

"I'm getting you out of here." The words you wanted to hear all these years, feeling like a dagger to the heart.

"Mor," you sigh. "I don't know if I can go to Velaris anymore. It's been so long, but I don't know if I can stand in front of him and his mate and say I'm happy for him without breaking."

She cradles your cheek with her free hand, resolute. "Azriel should have taken you with him. He's regretted it every day, leaving you here. We won't make that mistake again. I have a place you can stay at, at least until you figure out what you want to do. But, please, don't ask me to leave you here."

Hesitation grips you tight, the fear of opening your heart up to hope once more. But the look in her brown eyes, her hands warm against your cheeks, has you nodding. "Okay. I'll go."

Her lips smash against your forehead, and you wonder idly if she left a smear of red behind as she pulls away to start grabbing your belongings.

The first time she winnows you into a forest, you cry. Maybe a single tear rolling down your cheek would have felt more poetic, but you're left with the embarrassing kind of chest-shaking sobs.

"It's okay," she murmurs, rubbing your back. "There's going to be a lot of that. Just let it out when it hits you."

Her attempts at lightening the mood are mostly successful, but a lingering dread persists in your gut as you get closer to Velaris. You trust Mor not to drag you there against your will, but there was nothing your mind was better at than exploring worst-case scenarios. The journey thankfully passes without incident, and as you set your bag down on her living room floor you find yourself buzzing with some kind of anticipation.

"Tell them." The sound of your voice has her head snapping to you, eyes wide. "I need a bath first, but… tell them. I can't ask you to lie for me, not to them."

Mor shows you to your room, and you do indeed take your bath. Feeling a little greedy with the hot water, you soak and scrub a little more than usual as you watch the trees outside the window.

A pained expression crosses her face as she takes you into her arms once more. As you wrap yourself around her in turn, you wonder the last time you've ever been held this much in your eighty-odd years.

"Take your bath," she says, voice soft. "There are very few things they'd drop to be here."

How did you ever survive inside of a mountain, never knowing the world outside? Would you survive if you were ever made to go back?

-----

You help Mor set the table. Adjusting plates to hide your shaking hands, rearranging silverware to keep your mind occupied. Eventually, she perks up with a shaking breath.

“Cas and Az are on their way,” she says, slowly sinking into her chair. Relief and disappointment grapple for control at the sound of the short list. The look she gives you does nothing to help.

“Feyre just… had a baby. She and Rhys won’t be leaving Velaris if they can help it.” A baby.

You manage a smile, as painful as it is genuine. “Tell them I understand, please. And that I’m happy for them.”

Her hands reach out across the table, taking yours and rubbing circles into your scrubbed-sore skin. “I’m so sorry this is how things happened. If we knew you were in there—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you interrupt. “Not really. But I’m out now.”

Squeezing her hands in reassurance, you watch her expression crumble. Desperate to change the conversation, a thought comes to you.

“Could we… eat outside?” Her head lifts at your words, eyes widening slightly. “I saw a table on the patio out back, and as lovely as your home is I don’t think I’ve gotten enough of… outside.”

She laughs, something happy and sad all at once as your words seep in. “Yeah. Yeah, we can eat outside. It’s nice out, anyways. Staying in would be a waste of a perfectly good sunset.”

And just like that, you once again busy yourself with setting the table. This time, however, your guests arrive before you can readjust the silverware. They sound like thunder as they near the patio, their wings covering you in momentary darkness. Then, a literal darkness as Azriel’s shadows swirl around you in a miniature tornado, checking for themselves that you’re you, and you’re alright.

“What the fuck,” Cassian begins, as eloquent as ever.

Mor comes behind you as you turn towards them, placing a grounding hand against the small of your back.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, no one knowing quite where to begin, before Cassian rushes in as he does best and sweeps you off your feet. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, holding him tightly as he swings you around. What feels like a sentient breeze plays with your hair and caresses your cheek, and you find yourself in another pair of arms as soon as your feet hit the ground.

Unspoken words hang heavy as Azriel carefully lowers you back onto the floor. From the lack of questions, you can deduce that Mor had filled them in as much as she could before their arrival. This wasn’t to be an interrogation.

“Who’s hungry?” She asks, pulling out a chair.

-----

Dinner is significantly less awkward than you had feared. Cassian and Morrigan do most of the talking, and a familiar darkness curls comfortingly around your leg whenever it feels you drifting someplace less pleasant.

“I think you’ll like Nesta,” Cassian says. “She can be a viper, but only if you’re trying to piss her off.”

You laugh as you push what’s left of your food around. “I hear she’s quite the reader. We’ll have some common ground at least.”

Mor’s breath hitches and you feel the shadows at your feet twitch in apprehension, but Cassian takes it in stride with a booming laugh. “Cauldron, I’d like to see that. Maybe you could expand each other’s horizons, start a book club.”

The topic dances around what you’re all trying to avoid; the one you’d been waiting to save you for over fifty years. Your head is spinning a bit from all the talking and laughing, but you fear if you send them home you’ll never see them again.

“Do you want to come to Velaris?” Azriel’s voice startles you so badly you nearly don’t even register the question.

“Az,” Mor hisses, all her delicate conversation work thrown out with one question.

You look at him as you consider your answer, and find he has no expectations written on his face. It’s not a probing question, no demand for a response. Just a friend asking where you stand.

“Eventually,” you say, voice quiet. “Maybe not yet.”

He nods, unwilling to press further, and motions for Cassian to continue.

“Not like we’d mind coming out here to visit,” the General says, barely missing a step. “Mor never lets us come around, now she can’t turn us away.”

She laughs, brushing off the earlier upset. “If I want to spend time with you all, I can do it at one of our, what is it, four houses in the city?”

The two continued their lighthearted bickering as you all finished up dinner, acting as if no time had passed. While you had time to mourn your lost future as Rhysand’s wife, you had truly missed the friendships that had been taken from you. Right on cue, as the dark thoughts began to creep in, you were pulled back out. This time not by the shadows lazing about your ankles, but their master himself, his warm hand covering yours on the table. His gaze is soft when you look at him, more vulnerable than you’re used to seeing him.

Mor’s words from earlier swim in your head. ‘He’s regretted it every day, leaving you here.’

Turning your hand over, you squeeze his back with a smile. “It seems we all have some catching up to do.”

“I can go into the city tomorrow and get some stuff for your room,” Mor says, clapping her hands together and drawing your attention. “This place is mine alone, so it’s home for as long as you’ll have it.”

All the laughing, smiling, and talking is starting to make your face hurt, but you can’t seem to stop. “Make sure you stop by a market. I’ve been craving blackberry pie for the last thirty-odd years, and I might just have to make it myself.”

Azriel squeezes your hand. “Elain can make one. I think she’d like to meet you.”

“She needs more friends,” Cassian says. “She might even wander off and turn that weed patch over there into a garden.”

“Hey!” Mor laughs. “Those aren’t weeds, they’re the natural flora of the area!”

You shrug. “They’re pretty to me. But I wouldn’t mind some flowers.”

The blonde smiles with a roll of her shining eyes. “Fine, she can plant some flowers.”

“Pushover!” Cassian shouts with a barking laugh.

In the morning, you’ll wonder if dinner even happened. If you were really free, if Mor, Cas, and Az were really here, wrapping arms and hands around you like the past fifty years had been a bad dream. You’ll lay there thinking about the future, about the one person you had been longing to see most who hadn’t been there at all. You’ll think about how to move forward, how to build a new life, and how to find your place in lives already built. You'll wonder why no one responded to your father, what had happened to your letters, why no one seemed to notice a cell in the dungeons being used for fifty years. Why Rhysand told them you were dead.

But for now, you think only of the people who are there, who are keeping your thoughts light and your glass full. No matter what happens, you know you’ll be able to keep walking forward, in whatever direction that may be in. So for tonight, you let those worries sit in the corner of your mind for another time.

[crepesuzette2023]

Your top 5 favorite Mclennon quotes?

Hi Anon, thank you for asking! The following aren't quotes I'd construct into any kind of 'proof' (whether I'm into this or not is another set of footnotes, which I'll spare you), but quotes that illustrate that John and Paul's relationship was fascinating and intense, and puzzling to themselves and others (incl. yours truly). 1.) “Meeting Paul was just like two people meeting. Not falling in love or anything. Just us. It went on. It worked.” — John Lennon - The Beatles by Hunter Davies

2.) “Lennon had attitude, and, taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times, they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were ‘superior human beings’.” — Bob Wooler in Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In

3.) “John and Paul paired off - only to find themselves stuck together for life. For John, Paul was the boy who came to stay; for Paul, John was the song he couldn’t make better” — Rob Sheffield, Dreaming The Beatles

4.) TELL ME WHO HE IS. Early song by Paul McCartney, included in The Lyrics (2021). Written in the late 50’s/early 60’s, according to the caption. (photo of journal page)

Tell me who he is Tell me that you’re mine not his He says he loves you more than I do Tell me who he is

Tell him where to go Tell him that I love you so He couldn’t love you more than I do Tell me who he is

5.) John Lennon's word association list from 1976 New York: great Elvis: fat Ringo: friend Yoko: love Howard Cosell: hum George: lost Bootlegs: good Elton: nice Paul: extraordinary Bowie: thin MBE: shit John: great

BONUS TRACK: “I had signs that the group was gonna break up, because… I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away."— Paul McCartney (1985), link to interview here

PLAY IT BACKWARDS: "LONDON (AP) — John Lennon wrote vitriolic comments about fellow-Beatle Paul McCartney in a picture biography of the famed pop group, providing new evidence of the tensions between them, the Observer newspaper said Sunday. [...]

"Lennon marked almost every one of the 76 pages with corrections and comments, including one that the Observer took as an indication the group already was experimenting with drugs in the 1960s. [...]

"In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. [...]

"But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.” (full article.)

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Walls Are Crumbling: Part 3

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: 3 Months after marrying Benedict, you've come to realize those feelings you used to have for him are still there. On Benedict's end, his attention is always on you and he still has yet to confess his feelings for you, to Anthony's dismay.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Married life was...interesting. It wasn't exactly what you expected it to be, but you were still happy. Benedict was so caring, always asking you how you were, how the baby is doing; overall being a wonderful friend and husband.

In regards to the baby, you're starting to show a little bit, which meant that you started buying slightly bigger dresses. Every morning, Benedict would greet you and then your "little cherub". You couldn't help but get a little giddy every time you heard him call the baby that. Even though he isn't the father, he already sees them as his own and it makes you feel so elated. You have no doubt in your mind that he'd be a good father. He treats his siblings so well, so you have no worries on that front.

______________________

You're sitting under a tree at the Bridgerton household. Benedict's head is resting on your lap and he's having a conversation with your unborn child.

"You'll be so loved by your aunts and uncles. They'll adore you just like they adore your mother. I just hope you get all of your mother's good looks, hm? And not your cowardly father's."

You lightly swat his shoulder, "You stop that!"

He grins up at you, "Well, also, it'd just be better if he looked like you. Wouldn't want to raise suspicion would we?" he reaches out and boops your nose, "Besides, we won't be mentioning anything about him to our child. Not unless it's really important to."

You nod in agreement, your hand now brushing through Benedict's hair, "Do you want many children?" You're suddenly aware of what this insinuates. You two didn't consummate your marriage. Benedict was adamant that that wasn't a necessity considering the situation. But the idea of having children with him, little ones that are part you and part him, isn't something you're opposed to.

He hums, "If you'd like. If not, I think just having our little cherub would suffice."

You nod, accepting his answer, maybe...just maybe...

_____________________

You and Benedict join the rest of the Bridgerton family on an afternoon promenade.

Anthony, Kate, and Benedict are walking with each other, while you're behind them with Violet. Kate notices how Benedict keeps glancing back at you and his mother. She then speaks up, "Have you told her your feelings yet, brother-in-law?"

"No, I haven't." Benedict replies simply.

Anthony groans, "Brother-"

"I can't, Anthony. If she doesn't feel the same, I don't know what I'd do. I'm spending the rest of my life with her and if she doesn't love me, it would, quite literally, kill me."

Kate snorts, "A bit dramatic."

"He can be that way," Anthony responds.

Benedict rolls his eyes, "As if you two are the perfect example of a love match."

"We expressed our feelings in the end though. Are you really going to go your entire life not telling her how you feel?"

"I don't need this right now," he grumbles and joins his three younger siblings up ahead.

__________________________

You're smiling as you observe Benedict playing with Hycinth and Gregory. Franchesca looked on with an annoyed look, already behaving as though she was above it all. But you could see how she still wanted to play with her siblings.

Violet, catching your soft gaze, clears her throat, "So, will we be expecting another addition to our ever growing family?"

You didn't know what it was, but the hopeful look in Violet's eyes...you couldn't take it, "Yes, actually."

Your mother-in-law gasps in excitement, "Oh that's so wonderful! I'm so happy for you two!" She pulls you in tight. When she pulls away, she's gleaming at you, "You know, I truly am so happy that you two finally found your way to each other. I recall when Benedict was younger, he'd follow you everywhere. I knew my son's heart belonged to you, has all these years."

You look at her in surprise, "Really?"

She laughs, "Yes, really. He loves you so much, Y/N. I can see you love him just as much. It's so wonderful for you to be a part of this family now." She gives you a loving kiss to the head and proceeds to walk alongside you.

Benedict is then panting as he rushes over to you, "Dear wife, please give me an excuse to take pause from my siblings."

You giggle, "Not as energetic as you used to be, husband?"

He shrugs, "Afraid not." He catches his breath and offers his hand to you. He then looks to his mother, "Mother, may I-"

"Of course. Let me rally up my rambunctious children." She swiftly heads forward to her three youngest, wrapping her arms around then and, probably, warning them to ease themselves for a bit.

"I saw mother looking excited. Did you tell her about the child?"

You nod, "Yes, I'm sorry," you look at him guiltily, "She asked me if we were going to have children soon and she looked so hopeful. I couldn't lie to her."

Your husband chuckles, "It's alright. We were going to tell her eventually. We don't necessarily have to hide it now."

You hum, "Your mother did say something very interesting to me as well."

Benedict's brows raise, "And what did she say?"

There's a bench nearby and you pull Benedict to it. Once you and he are sitting, you speak, "She said your heart had belonged to me since we were children. Is that true?"

A part of him wants to lie, to say that his mother was merely jesting. However, his brother and sister-in-law's words came to mind. Realistically, he doesn't think he can spend his entire life with you and not confess his feelings.

Nothing like the present, he supposes.

He lets out a deep breath, "Y/N, ever since I was a boy, my heart, truly has been yours. You have been, and still are, the light of my life and I am a moth drawn to your ever loving flame."

"Ben-"

"I must admit that I feel...guilty."

"Guilty? What for?"

"I suppose it's a bit ironic. You were so worried that I was being forced to marry you, that being called your husband would be the worst thing in the world. But it's not. It's an honor and privilege to be called such. However, I feel guilty for feeling as though I've forced you in this position. To marry me, a man you don't love, to ensure your secured spot within society. I feel guilty for practically forcing you to be my wife."

You cupped Benedict's face, "You didn't force me," you stare into his eyes, "I suppose we both agreed to this for our own selfish reasons but...I think it's worked out well. And I wouldn't necessarily say that you're a man I'm not in love with," you say shyly, bringing your hands back to yourself and looking away from him.

"You love me?" Benedict asks breathlessly.

You nod, "I always have, but I didn't believe you'd ever feel the same, so I tried moving on. That's-" you chuckle, "That's how I ended up with Lord Mattias. I was so desperate to be loved and he was so charming and made promises that I thought he'd keep." You shake your head, looking at your lap in shame, "So stupid."

Benedict places his hand on yours, "You're not stupid for believing in love, for believing Mattias." He lightly places his hand under your chin and turns your head towards him, "But you're right. I think this worked out well. Not ideal but...I believe it was always supposed to be us in the end."

"I think so too," you whisper.

"May I kiss you?" he asks softly, his eyes glancing to your lips.

"But-"

"We're a married couple. No one has to know that this will be our first kiss, and, hopefully, not our last."

"Okay," you mumble before leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is soft but it's everything you thought it'd be. Benedict is gentle but you feel the love oozing out of him, the love he has for you.

You break apart when you hear someone clearing their throat. You look up to see Anthony and Kate smiling at the both of you.

"I win," Kate states with a proud grin and Anthony is rolling his eyes.

Anthony is scowling, "You couldn't have waited another week, brother?"

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask in confusion.

Kate is smirking, "Anthony and I had a bet. I said Benedict would confess his feelings within the week. Anthony said longer."

The viscount sighs, "Yes, well, everything's all worked out now. You two are married and in love now. Wonderful," he says annoyingly, "Anyway, we're all headed to the house for lunch. Will you be joining us?"

"I think I'd like to rest, but we'll see you at dinner."

"Of course," Kate bends over and gives you a hug, "Take care. We'll see you later."

Anthony nods to you and Benedict, and guides her towards the rest of the waiting Bridgertons.

Benedict proceeds to stand, offering his hand to you. The both of you follow the family until you go your separate ways. The group to the Bridgerton household and you and Benedict to the small estate left to you by your father after he'd past.