#anyway. will update as necessary but for now that’s about it!

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[sleepy-steve]

cirajay on ao3 • lesbian • gadigal land, always was, always will be

corporate girlie by day • pole dancer by night • writer where i can fit it in between

minors dni • some nsfw present • SWerfs, terfs, and zionists fuck off

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♡ tags for my writing below ♡

🦇 eddie munson big bang (batgate) // snippets

🏴 undead x ferryman // pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

💔 steddie angsty august fic // day 8, day 9, day 10

✨ secret project with @stervrucht // snippets

⛓️ (pray) ‘til i go blind // ao3 // 4k // M // modern au, metal burlesque performer eddie, audience participant steve

☁️ why are you never real? // ao3 // 6k // E // cw: mild suicidal ideation, prompt: ghosts, post-s4, dream haunting

🖤 please, please, please // ao3 // 2k // M // eddie is obsessed with steve, yearning and pining, introspective

🩹 trust // ao3 // 2.5k // T // hate crime, wound care, eddie whump, protective steve, first kiss

💫 north star // ao3 // 2k // G // eddie in WITSEC, phone calls, mutual pining, angst w happy ending

—

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[werewolfetone]

Lying on my bed giggling kicking my legs thinking abt the changes I just made to my oc lore

[myladysapphire]

Two Halves of a whole

Aemond had always understood you in ways others could not, your bond so deep nothing could severe it. A bond so deep that they would do anything to save the other, even if it meant being trapped with the enemy.

based of this request

word count: 6,208

cw: MDI+, 18+, Smut, Angst, fluff, love conffessions, arranged marraige, cheating. (im so sorry Cregan i love you i swear), not proofread!

Aemond Targaryen x twinsister!reader (or Creaganswife!reader)

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: so sorry i haven’t updated in two weeks! ive been in such a writting slump but here is finally some work! <3

Aemond had always understood you in ways now one else had.

Born together, you had never seen the day apart. Your lessons spent together, your rooms shared until you where three and ten.

And even then that did not stop you form spending every moment together.

You were so similar, not only where you twins but it was almost as If you where the same person, two halves of a whole.

You were kind, where he was cruel.

Your were beautiful where he seemed himself ugly, no matter the words you spoke to call him otherwise.

Where he was bold, you where shy.

And where you thrived, he drowned.

But something shifted the day Aemond claimed Vaghar.

You had both been dragon less, teased for it and faced the constant bullying of your older brother and nephews.

you had spent days talking and studying dragons, and where Aemond started to loose hope, and yet you pushed him to believe he could claim a dragon.

And he did, the biggest and most fearsome dragon in the world.

And you were left behind in the process.

That night, no one told you of what had transpired until you were dragged from your bed and greeted with the bleeding face of your twin brother.

Your house divided, and your brother a changed man.

Form that day he became cruel and cunning, hellbent on being the best swordsman. the best dragon rider. Skilled and wise.

And though you where there for it all, helping him and watching. It was all from the sidelines. As if you only mattered when he was involved.

that’s what your family thought anyway.

Until you became of marital age, and your father decided a alliance with the north was necessary.

You had always thought you would marry Aemond, and yet here you where on your way to winterfell about to marry a stranger you had never met.

Your nephew Jace had talked of him often, recounting his days spent in Winterfell. And though he  sounded honourable and kind, you feared what it would be like to be apart fork Aemond, the man who was truly the other half of you.

even after years of drifting apart he was still everything to you.                                                                                                

“are you excited, aunt?” Jace asked, he and the rest of your family where all accompany your north, using the journey as a tour of Westeros.

“As one can be to be marrying a stranger I suppose” you mused, looking out of the window.

Whilst your siblings all rode their dragons around Westeros, you were forced to ride with your nephews and cousins, with dragons too small to withstand the long journeys.

“Cregan stark is a good man, I’m sure you with have a good marriage” Baela spoke, looking up from her book.

You scoffed, “so everyone has met him but me?” you mumbled to yourself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I always thought you would marry Aemond” Rhanea spoke up, she and you had strike a surprising friendship, despite her distaste for Aemond. Your common lack and want for a dragon bonding you both.

“As did I” you spoke longingly, looking up and seeing the shape of Vaghar in the distance.  

The rest of the journey was spent with minimal words spoken, and your eyes never leaving Vaghars form.

Ever since they announced your betrothal Aemond had been distant, still ever present as he was, but distant.

The day he had found out he had stormed out of his rooms and ignored you for the remainder of the day.

And though the day after he had carried out your old routine, it seemed different, strained.

Though Aemond was never a talker, he was never silent around you. If he didn’t respond with words, he responded with actions. Whether it be brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, caressing your hand, or bringing you flowers.

But since then, the casual touches or small gifts of flowers or your favourite snack or bringing you a book he thought you’d enjoy, stopped.

Conversation was strained, always ending on an awkward note, and when you had wished to confront him on it you had found he had gone to the silk of streets with Aegon.

You felt hurt, betrayed almost and yet it was you who was marrying another, leaving him behind, even if you had no choice in the fact.

And the tour had been even worse.

Your days spent in a carriage alongside people you hardly knew, with Jace and Luke the very boys who had once teased your mercilessly. The very people who had caused Aemond so much pain and even harsher words in the past years.

And yet you were forced to put on a pretty smile and put up with their chatter. Though had no quells with Rhaena, finding many conversation flows easy with her.

You felt all alone, stranded in a marriage yet to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The journey around Westeros was as long as it weas boring, full of lords trying their hardest to appease you father, spoiling you all with gifts and pretty words.

You were grateful once you started to visit the northern houses, they were honest, less kind, less welcoming and less inclined to spoil you with meaningless gifts.

It took six months, six months of travelling of Aemond being distant and eventually ignoring you altogether before you reached Winterfell. And met Cregan stark.

And though you could tell he was a good man and that there was no way to deny he wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t Aemond.

You got along well, though every smile or laugh was met with Aemond’s glare. His disapproving stare. His harsh words and even harsher steps as he followed you both through the halls.

He hadn’t said a word to you, but made sure you new his anger.

Even as he watched you walk down the aisle in the godswood and take Cregan as your lord husband.

After that day you felt perpetually lost, as if you had lost the other part of you, that you were never whole.

Perhaps it was because Aemond had left without so much as a goodbye, or that now there was no chance of you and Aemond getting what you both wanted.

Two years passed, two years in the north as Cregan’s wife, a babe born and not a single word or letter from Aemond.

You felt stranded in the north, with no dragon nor any dragon rider offering you an escape. Any letters took weeks to arrive, any news arriving long after the fact.

You heard little from anyone frankly, that’s why it was such a surprise to see your nephew Jace once more.

“Jace?” you questioned, as you walked into the great hall. He sat beside Cregan, clearly having spent the night.

You were shocked, no one had told you of his arrival.

“Aunt” he greeted in turn, his voice kind as he greeted you.

“What are you doing here?” you said, as you approached where they sat.

He looked over to Cregan, shocked you didn’t know he was here. “Your father…Viserys is dead”

“oh” you said, not feeling any emotion in particular. He had never been a father too you, always distant, treating you more like a cousin child, than his own. “did he- was it peaceful?”

“I don’t know” he said, as you finally took your seat beside him, “we had left Kings Landing before-“

“Is that why your here? My fathers death?”

Jace looked over to Cregan an awkwardly, “Aegon usurped my mother, I have been sent to remind the north of their oath.”

Aegon being king wasn’t a surprise, your mother and grandsire had been plotting for years to crown him since he was born. If anything, you were shocked that Jace seemed surprised by the betrayal, as if the court hadn’t been treating Aegon as heir for years.

“And as I told the prince, the north remembers” Cregan said looking over to you, his tone serious. “we pledge our loyalty to the queen”

“and if war comes with you plunge your sword into my brothers back, husband?”

“if it comes it it, aye”

You looked down and remained quite through the remainder of Jace’s stay, keeping to yourself, as you always did.

The harsh realisation that your husband would so easily kill your brothers hurt, even if they were traitors and usurpers.

You had never felt whole since Aemond left and you knew a part of you chipped away the longer he was gone, the longer he punished you with his silence.

And then news came, Luke was dead at the hands of Aemond. And you felt apart of you break.

The realisation that Aemond would not survive this war without erasing the entirety of Rhaenrya’s line.

You felt more stuck than ever.

Stuck with a husband plotting a war were the allegiance was split.

You had married Cregan in hope of uniting the north to the greens. But of course the loyal house stark would never wavier form their oath, even if it meant a wife forced to watch as her kin was murdered.

You hated this war, and it had yet to start.

You had been left in charge of Winterfell in your husbands absence, and you felt even more lonely without him. The one person who you had felt some stability from.

Your dreams was filled with blood and death, fear of what was to come. And yet another dream chased you. Flashes of blue flames, ice eyes and cold scales. A song sung through your mind, it had no words or melody, it was as if it were a secret language only your dreams could understand.

A storm raged on, leaving you locked inside and a feeling a dread filling your bones.

You couldn’t escape the nagging feeling, the feeling like something was very wrong.

You could scarcely see outside the window, let alone leave the keep. The snow thick and relentless, and yet you could make out a figure ever so slightly.

A dragon.

Large and far away, your mind hoped it was Aemond, though he would be a fool to travel north, especially in this storm.

And yet it seemed to pale, not nearly as monstrous or large.

It called to you, your eyes following if, unable to tear themselves away from the dragon.

Had it not been the call of your name from your maid, Lyra, you were sure you would have chased after it, its song luring you to were ever its layer sat.

“my lady” she started, her demeanour nervous

“what is it?” you questioned, finally pulling your eyes away from the creature.

“you have a visitor”

“who-“ your words were cut off as your twin strolled in, his yes firm, a hand gripping his sword “Aemond”  you breathed, your hand gripping at your chest.

“sister” he greeted.

You sent a look to lyra, sending her running, though she seemed relived at the dismal.

“my husband is not here”

“good”

“he pledged for Rhaenrya”

His gaze hardened, a smile gracing his lips “you betray your own kin”

You scoffed “me betray? You are the one who has not spoken a word to me since the day i was married, no letter no word! Even Aegon wrote me and yet you my own twin, the very man i have loved and been with since the day we were born, betrays me without a word all because I am shipped of in a marriage you very well knew I did not want! If anyone has betrayed the other it is you”

His gaze fell, his smirk falling, “you choose him-“

“by the gods! I had no say”

His eyes dropped their firm, “no…mother said you had chosen him and rejected my bid” “your bid? You bid for my hand?” you scoffed once more, “do you think that if I knew I had a choice I would have come crying, begging for your help?”

He seemed you look at you, look at you for the first time in years, his yes boring into you in a way you did not realise you missed.

Aemond had always been selifish and cruel, a man who only believed his opinion to be the truth and yet with you he was patient and kind, and though you saw a glimpse of the man others did see, you knew he was still the Aemond you had long knew.

Though the fact remained, as it stood you were on opposing sides of this war, and with no dragon and your son the heir to house stark, you were powerless to change sides.

But as he looked at you, and as you heard to coo of your son as he sat in his crib your mind went back to the day your life changed and Aemond drifted apart.

You knew the day was coming, word had been circling around court, suitors from throughout the realm had come to bid for your hand.

Though you in truth you only wanted one man, your twin Aemond.

It wasn’t wrong for you to assume that you and he would marry, it was within the custom of your house, you had always been close and he had practically been courting you for years.

With gifts an-d days spent walking the gardens, with soft words and caresses.

Though he never made his intentions clear, you were sure he was of the same mind of you.

And yet days spent whining about the men hellbent on following you, with cheesy words of love and gifts you already had too may off. It was all impersonable and endlessly repetitive. And Aemond never uttered a word. Simply nodding his head in what you hoped was silent contempt.

and yet your mother had summoned you to her chambers, a sombre expression on her face.

“daughter” she greeted, a soft smile as she reached for your hand.

The feeling of dread encompassed you, your face pale and stricken as she ushered you to sit.

“an offer has been made, one your father could not refuse” she started, her hand caressing yours, “one with house stark…lord Cregan Stark has made a bid and your father has accepted.”

You swallowed, your head dropping.

“I know your heart bid for another…but this is the way of the realm, and lord Cregan is a good man, your- Rhaenrya’s son knows him well.” She spoke the last part hesitantly.

“when?”

“we leave in a moons turn”

You nodded your head, standing quickly you nodded your head as your turn to leave, the tears already threatening to fall from your eyes.

You had ran to Aemond’s rooms, his chambers adjacent to yours.

Your eyes were filled with tears, your face red and your breaths short.

He breathed your name, coming up to hold your face in his hands.

“I am to be married” you breathed through shallow breaths.

Aemond held his breath.

“mother…mother has said I shall marry…Lord Cregan Stark” you stuttered out, and Aemond back away from you, his hand dropping as if your face was fire.

“what?” he muttered harshly, “out of all your…suitors, him?”

“I had little say…I alw-“  you cut yourself of as you saw the look on Aemond’s face.

With you Aemond had always had patience, been kind where he was usually curel, his face never harsh or firm but now…now he seemed to hold the anger of the sun as he looked at you, as if he had been betrayed, as if he was the one being made to marry a man thousands of leagues away, a man you had never met.

“please Aemond” you begged, trying to move towards him once more.

You were unsure of what you were begging for.

Whether it was to help you get out of this betrothal or to marry him instead, but Aemond scoffed and sent you a glare that would send anyone else running.

“what do you want? Hmm?” he began, stalking over to you, “to help you out of it? Or what claim a dragon so that you might escape?” he said, his tone mocking.

“what is with you!” you spoke through tears, “why are you being so cruel?”

“cruel?” he scoffed once more, “you are the one being cruel!”

“how?! I had no choice!”

“you had every choice” he seethed, “and yet you continuously turn a blind eye to the right choice!”

“what choice? you think I had any choice in this?” you scoffed, “gods! Heleana had no say, even Rhaenyra had little say in her first husband and yet you think I got to choose?” tears were falling from your eyes but for an entirely different reason, you felt betrayed, the one person you knew or had thought you could trust with all your heart had betrayed you. Had made you lose all trust, and made you feel alone.

A feeling that had followed you for moons, even the following years that were to come. As he grew more and more distant, no more gifts or walks, days spent in each other’s company and now they were spent listening to your nephew trying to sell your future husband. Your mother and planning your wedding.

You felt like you had lost Aemond In his entirety and yet here he stood before you, claiming you a traitor.

“why are you here?” you breathed, trying to forget the words he had said.

“for you” he spoke, straightening his stance as you walked towards your sons crib.

“for me? What of Rickon? Hmm?” you said, bouncing your six month of son in your arms. “he is the heir to Winterfell and his father fights for your enemies, you expect me to leave with you? To abandon my home?”

“your home?” he huffed, “last we spoke, you hated it here.”

“last we spoke was two years ago, opinions change especially in years apart”

“so what? You will stay in here in the cold, damp, baren land that is the north?”

“in favour of what?” you questioned genuinely, leaving the north would gain you nothing, instead you would lose the comforts of a husband and your son his birthright.

“you know…I always assumed we would wed” Aemond began, a small gasp left your throat, “and so you will wed me, your son will be Aegon’s heir until you and I have a son of our own”

“what…I am already married-“

“to a man I shall kill myself”

“Aemond! Gods you are mad! You speak of a life this war will never offer us!” you shook your head, “I- I cannot leave here, not for a life you cannot guarantee, especially after years of neglect over something I could not control”

“so you are a traitor”

“I pledge to no one, I care not for the throne especially if the fight is between Aegon and Rhaenyra” you spoke “I have no means to fight in this war for either side, and I do not desire to…if that is what you want…for me to leave my home for no reason other than an empty promise for a life we will never live then I must tell you to leave”

“leave?” he said bewildered, unbelieving you would send him away so quickly.

“you can stay the night or until the storm clears up, but I will here no more of this war or of your fantasy you have suddenly conjured up” A fantasy you had long desired yourself, had craved for him to desire it to. And now you were offered it, it seemed unreachable now. A war in its way, a war started by him and only one ending could grant you this fantasy, an ending to messy and deadly.

“I will go now” he spoke harshly, sending you a single glance before he took his leave.

That night the storm raged harsher, and sleep evaded you.

The storm did not stop raging once and for the first time since Driftmark you feared for your brothers life.

You stared out your window once more, trying to find the familiar shape of Vaghar, and yet you saw nothing.

Your eyes closed as you hoped, prayed that he had manged to get out of the storm.

But instead of a prayer you heard the song, the singing of that dragon once more.

Opening your eyes, you instantly found its shape, its wings flying through the sky as if the storm was nothing, its song enticing you to follow it, to find were it sat.

Grabbing your cloak and your boats you were quick to sneak from the castle, with no one questioning the steps of their lady, even less when you made a hopeful glance to where you were told Vaghar had landed. Hoping Aemond had chosen to wait out the storm.

But the typical stubborn man had left, mostly likely gotten himself stranded on some cliff.

As you left the walls of Winterfell, your sight blinded by snow, you were guided by the dragons song, a song that grew louder and louder as you went deeper into the wolfs woods.

You had been hunting here on a few occasions, never alone and always at Cregan’s side.

The trees dwarfed the sky the further you went, and yet there was a clearing amongst the trees, leaving a trail of discarded leaves and twigs, snow parted by what could only be a tail.

The trail lead to a cave, encased with snow and yet here the song stopped and the familiar smell of dragon began.

You had not know of caves in these woods, then again you had long strayed from the trail others took, and perhaps the word of a dragon had made this corner of the woods scarce.

With hesitance you entered the cave, with no sword nor light, simply will.

The cave was empty, bar what seemed to be a cliff, leading below.

Had there not been the unrelenting scent of dragon you would have turned back and yet, you climbed down, down rugged rocks only to turn and be meet with an ice cold bolt shotting from the dragons mouth.

A roar filled the room, alongside ice cold blue flame.

The dragon you had only seen from a distance lay facing you, its stare made to intimidate.

You left out a breath at the sight of her.

She was so different yet similar to the dragons you had grown up seeing.

She tilted her head, assessing you, before she nudged you.

Whether it was playfully or an attempt to get you to leave you did not now.

And yet you continued to step forward.

“lykirī” You spoke softly, walking towards the dragon hand raised, “lykirī” your hand reached forward, touching the dragon’s snout softly. She was warm and yet freezing under your palm, so different from the hot scales you were used to under the touch of your siblings dragons.

“nyke ryptan aōha vāedar” you started, softly stroking her, “īles gevie…iksā gevie”

I heard your song… it was beautiful… you are beautiful.

A soft grumbled left the dragons lips.

“iksin ziry syt nyke? aōha vāedar?” you swore she nodded her head.

Was it for me? Your song?

“gōntan ao brōzagon syt nyke?” you whispered, moving down her snout and towards her back, the place a saddle usual sat.

did you call for me?

“eman dreamt hen ao, ryptan aōha vāedar syt jēdri. se yet mirre bisa jēda īlē paktot gō ñuha pungos”

i have dreamt of you, heard your song for years...and yet all this time you were right under my nose.

The dragon shook her head softly, turning to face you as if to urge you up upon her back.

You swallowed roughly as you climbed upon her wing and then her back. she was larger than your brothers dragon Sunfyer, you would even wager larger than dreamfyer, and yet she was younger, her eyes softer and scales thinner. Her fire, or ice, however was strong, perhaps even stronger than Caraxes.

You settled upon her back, holding onto her scales, and before you could utter a word, she took flight.

“daor” you muttered, “dohaerās” you spoke, your hands gripping tightly as you urged her to serve. “Paez”

No…serve…slow

The storm still raged, you were blinded as the snow pelted your eyes, and yet your dragon seemed unfazed.

She circled the woods in what seemed to be glee.

Showing of tricks that left you praying to the gods as you gripped onto her horns for dear life.

And then you heard a roar.

An old and ancient roar.

“jikagon ūndegon” you urged.

Go see

She flew through the sky at a rapid place before the sight of Vaghar became clear, she lay stranded on the lonely hills, covered in snow and Aemond lay beside her.

“elēnās” you commanded, urging our dragon to bank.

Jumping of her back you rushed towards Aemond, his body cold and shivering.

“Aemond…gods” you whispered, “I told you to stay the night!” you near screamed, trying to urge him awake, and yet he seemed unresponsive to your words.

“Vaghar jikagon, jurnegon syt shelter” you screamed, as you made moves to drag Aemond towards your dragon.

Vaghar go, search for shelter

The old dragon seemed to rumble at your words her gaze following you as you near threw Aemond body on top of the dragon, a dragon you decided very well needed a name.

You were scared to take flight once more, with nothing but your arms to hold onto the dragon and Aemond.

“gods” you muttered, your eyes blinded once more by snow. “sagon qucik se gīda” you commanded, pulling Aemond to your chest and below the winter coat you wore, your hands gripping your dragon, as you commanded her onwards.

Be quick and calm

The flight to Winterfell seemed short, though worry racked through you as Aemond’s breaths grew shorter.

You landed rather ungracefully in the godswood, a landing that seemed to awake the whole castle as you were greeted with the entirety of your staff, your maid, Lyra rushing towards you a blanket in hand.

“my lady” she muttered rushing towards you, only to gasp at the sight of Aemond as you struggle to carry him.

“Gunther, Torren” you shouted for your guards, to help you carry Aemond, “send for the maester my brother is in need of aid.

“my lady is that your dragon?” Lyra asked, nervously as your dragon seemed to send menacing glares to your staff.

“yes” you nodded, catching your breath from your seemingly heavy brother.

“what is its name?” she asked stepping behind your form nervously.

“Stormfyer” you decided, and she herself seemed to like it as she eagerly nudged you, pushing you back ever so slightly.

That night the maester cared for Aemond, his body slowly recovering.

Though whispered moved swiftly of your brothers presence, and his lack of dragon.

A week passed before Aemond woke.

His voice scratchy and body weak, his head confused. Even more so when he saw your face.

You stood with broth and bread in your hand, a soft nervous smile on your face as you faced him.

His eyes were angry, but his face seemed to relax ever so slightly at your face.

“am I a prisoner?” he asked, as you placed the tray on his lap.

“if you talk a single word of war then yes” you joked, though the words soured soon after they were spoken.

“how did you find me?”

You smiled at his words, “there is a dragon in the north, she sang to me and I answered her call and in doing so I found you, your body beside Vaghars…. I rescued you, near a week ago”

“a dragon?” he spoke “you have dragon now?”

You nodded, “Stormfyer, I named her…she is near the size of dreamfyer I believe, though closer in age to Vermax” you spoke with a smile.

“I am…happy for you sister”

“I won’t reconsider… before you say anything”

“I know…I realised as such as I lay here dreaming”

“dreaming…of what?”

“of you” he spoke instantly, his hand gripping yours, “I meant what is said, all I have ever wanted was you by my side, as my wife and my queen” “I do not wish to be queen”

“then we shall be farmer and wife…in Essos or I shall shave my head and take the name snow and be your faithful sworn sword here in the north”

“Cregan will kill you second he sees you”

“then we leave”

“what if my son?” you argued, “he is the heir to Winterfell, it is his birthright”

“as is Aegon’s as king” Aemond snapped.

“and yet a war rages for Rhaenyra as queen, a queen the north supports and you lie as the enemy within.”

“then will you kill me sister?”

“never” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly, “you are the other half of me, I found you dying on the hills for a reason, I have felt your pain and joy for years…I will not betray you” “you staying here does…it hurts me, makes me ache for you”

You took a deep breath, moving the tray of Aemond’s lap, and yourself towards him.

You took his face in your heads, your forehead lent against his.

“I ache for you…everyday of my life I have ached for you” you breathed “I waited, I waited for you to feel he same for you to tell me you wished to have me as your wife and yet that day never came until a week past…after I am married and made a mother” your eyes swelled with tears, “if the gods wished us together they would have made it easier for us Aemond…they never would have put us on opposing side of a war…or me with a husband i-“ you were cut off with Aemond’s lips on yours.

His mouth merged with yours, moving in tandem with the others, years of love and desire melting into one as his mouth kissed yours, his hands gripping your sides as he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hands reaching for his hair, tugging him closer to you.

Soft moans left your moth as his tongue danced with yours.

Your dress loosened by his wandering hands.

Your hips moving slowly against this, his length hardening against your thigh as you cunt became sickened with your wet heat.

“Aemond” you moaned breaking away from him. “I am married”

“and I do not care” he smoke, removing his shirt and they your dress. Leaving you both bare.

Your eyes were roaming and quick.

As if nervous to see another man naked, and yet Aemond had long been the only man you ever desired.

You should be filled with guilt, with the thought of your husband and yet, no guilt chased you as you removed the covers and revealed Aemond’s cock.

You swallowed at he sight of him.

You moved forward placing a quick kiss to his lips, hovering over his cock, before lunging down.

The feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock made you both moan, your breaths heavy as you adjusted to the size of him.

Your head reasted on his shoulder, his hands gripping your waists as you began to lift your self of his cock, only to push them down once more.

You set a slow pace as you rode him, moving your hips in slow circular motions.

Aemond placed soft kisses to your neck, urging you to look at him.

He moaned your name, his hands caressing your sides, before settling once more on your hips.

Gripping your waist, he began to move you up and down on his cock, his pace fast and full of pleasure.

Your peak came fast, your moans covered by your hands as you rode his cock.

Your walls clenching around his cock, causing Aemond’s own peak to wash over him, his seed filling you as you lay breathless above him.

“Aemond” you breathed, kissing his chest lightly as he held you to him.

“I have wanted to do that forever” he whispered, kissing your head.

You wanted to say so may things and yet you couldn’t.

You felt joy at having Aemond finally, at your emotions being laid bare before him.

And yet a sadness watched over you as if this was a goodbye.

And seeing as shouts were heard, the sound of hooves and a rapid knock upon the door, you realised it was.

He gripped your hand, “stay” he urged.

“it is my husband” you whispered, gathering your clothes in a rush., “he can never know…you must leave!”

“leave? How when our husband and his men circle the courtyard”

“i- i- don’t..” you mumbled in a panic as your redressed, “this never happened Aemond, you must bend plea for something…I don’t know say you pledge for Rhaenyra”

“he will never believe it…and why would I come here if I did”

The knocking sounded once more…look asleep and sickly… I will come back” your promised rushing out the doors and to greet your husband.

“Husband” you greeted, a breathless smile on your face, “you are back?”

“only for a time, I’m afraid” he said, sad smile on his face as he gave you a kiss in greeting.

He turned serious as he faced you, his voice a whisper as he spoke, “your brother…Aemond” he began, “he is here?”

You swallowed, “yes…but please I beg don’t kill him” you said tears filling your eyes, “he can be our prisoner…I sent his dragon away he has no means of leaving” you begged.

He looked at you hesitantly, before urging you to talk inside.

“he is a kin slayer” he spoke outright, “he should be killed…executed”

“I know…but he is a valuable prisoner.” He looked at you the, with the same look he gave you the first few months of your marriage. When you felt alone and needed Aemond like you need air to breath.

“do you still love him?” he spoke after a moment, “and do not deny that you ever did…I know of the whispers and I know you saved his life days ago”

“you are my husband…the father of my son…I have cared for you and even started to love you-“

“but do you love him?”

You stared at him your eyes begging for what, you did not know “what does it matter” you sighed in mock defeat.

Cregan kissed his teeth, “queen Rhaenyra has taken Kingslanding, Aegon is missing, and Aemond now a hostage of the north and you...” he stopped himself unsure of what to make of you, “you are my wife and the lady of the north, a kingdom pledged to the queen”

“so what? Am I too a prisoner until you can test my loyalty?”

“do I need to test your loyalty?”

You had no reply as you stormed out of his solar, and to your own rooms.

You realised you had no choice in what was to come, Aemond would die and no prayers would save him from what his fate was set to be.

Sighing you faced the room you had made a home, now it seemed empty.

The crib lay empty, your son in the nursery.

Your bed made and fire well kept.

Your thing scattered, with clothes left tidy in their dresser, blanket slung over chairs, books left stacked.  

You sighed, your head falling in your hands as you began to pace your room.

Then the realisation hit, the need to flea and run

Grabbing a bag you packed everything you could, clothes and books, hairbrushes and toys for your son.

A cloak slung over your shoulder, the bag well hidden as you made way to the nursery.

Smiling as you greeted him, his smiles lighting the room as you took him into your arms and made way to where Aemond was kept.

He lay in his bed, the food you had brought now eaten, a book lay in his hand.

“Aemond” you breathed, closing the door behind you. “we must leave” you said as you chucked some of the clothes Cregan kept in your chamber towards him.

Fleeing proved easier than you had thought. With feasts and revelry at your husbands return it was easy to sneak through the keep and towards the godswood.

Vhagar had made her way there only days ago, and though Aemond was still weak from the cold, he seemed to lighten up at the sight of her.

“where are we going?” he breathed as you tossed Aemond the bag you had packed.

“to lys” you began, “we cannot stay in Westeros and with the triarchy as your ally I am sure we would be safer there than here.”

After that day no one knows what happened to the Targaryen twins, many assumed Aemond had kidnapped you in act of revenge for your supposed loyalty to Rhaenrya and your betrayal against him. When in truth the escape had been your plan, and whilst you had lived in lys, myr and Tyrosh, moving from place to place for the first five years in fear of assassins, you later found a home where you thrive away from the war Aemond had began.

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After having talked with Jason and Tim, and learning that his friends weren’t the ones that had murdered him accidentally or not, Danny had ended up a little more at ease. He was still distracted by various concerns, but not to the point of any significant anxiety for the rest of the week. There wasn’t much for the manor residents to do outside of general activities around the manor to keep them occupied for the rest of the time until that weekend. But luckily the manor had plenty for them to do during that time, and with his family and friends kept fairly occupied Danny found it a little easier to rest.

By the time the weekend came Danny was managing to make it around the manor on his own feet instead of being carried. It was a liberating feeling, made more prominent when the others had made a big deal about Leslie finally removing the IV line from his arm. The burns had healed enough that morphine was no longer necessary, and he was able to stay hydrated well enough through drinking fluids instead of having them dripped into him. Now he was just having to deal with taking prescription painkillers, and a few supplements. Leslie had complained that Danny was much too skinny, and now that they didn’t have to worry about keeping him out of a coma she was starting to focus more on getting him well fed. A slow process, but one that Alfred was more than willing to help with. When he was finally untethered, Danny had earned a mixture of groans and chuckles when the first shirt he put on was the first one Dick had given him, proudly grinning after tugging it over his head. And being able to have a tasty porridge for breakfast had only improved his mood more.

Yet despite feeling significantly better than he had when he’d first woken up, Danny still didn’t tend to wander too far or otherwise be too active. He could make it across the manor, sure. But it tended to use up what little energy he had fairly quickly, and he didn't like going back to feeling so worn out he just felt like sleeping. It didn’t help that he was a little antsy about everything anyway, so sometimes tended to wear himself out easily just sitting. He was worried about his parents, mainly. But also what the GIW was up to with him gone. Were the other ghosts managing to take care of everything? Maybe Valerie was filling in for him? He doubted it. She was good, but she wasn’t as well versed in everything that he knew. Danielle was the main person Danny would choose as a backup for him, and she was unfortunately stuck there with him. Literally stuck to him at the moment too.

When the others came to find him to get ready to head to the Watchtower they found him and Danielle on one of the couches near a window in one of the nearby sitting rooms. Danny was staring out the glass, watching the scenery and occasional leaf falling, and Danielle was draped over his lap in a pose reminiscent of a cat claiming her space. There was a bit of an eerie ambience drifting from them despite nothing obviously unusual being able to be seen. When Cass looked she could swear there was a faint green glow about them, but it was hard to focus on. And Jon didn't seem to notice anything at all as he rushed over to them.

“Hi! Good morning! You’re looking a lot better- what are you doing?” Jon greeted them, first to Danny and then shifting his attention to Danielle.

Danny blinked as he noticed they had company, and Cass noticed the eerie feeling fade almost completely, along with the glow she hadn’t quite been sure was there.

“Recharging,” Danielle answered simply, slightly muffled by her squished cheek.

“Recharging?” Jon repeated, looking somewhat confused. “Like… literally or figuratively?” He knew Danielle wasn’t fully human, or at least not a typical human, so she could have meant literally.

Danielle ended up snickering at the question. “Both,” she confirmed, finally opening her eyes and considering getting up. “I don’t generate ectoplasm like Danny does, so sometimes he shares some with me since we’re compatible.”

“Ohhhh. So kind of like sunbathing,” Jon related, able to understand now why Danielle had said it was both figurative and literal recharging.

This time it was Danny’s turn to snort. “I guess so….. Who are you?” This was another new face who seemed to know him despite him not knowing them. How many more people were there that had helped him while he was unconscious? While it was nice to have friendly people, he still wasn’t used to how many there were who knew him, and who everyone was so open with about him too.

“Oh! Right, you haven’t been awake around me yet- I’m Jonathan Kent! Call me Jon. I’m Damian’s friend,” Jon introduced himself easily, holding his hand out for Danny to shake. “I actually live out in Kansas, but sometimes visit Damian on the weekends when I don’t have school. I was here last weekend.”

Oh, he had a lot of energy. Danny was already wondering if he was going to be able to keep up with him today or end up exhausted in minutes. But despite that he found he didn’t mind the company this time. Ever since the meeting with Raven, and the talk about the Infinite Realm and rituals he’d felt stuck in a haze of looping confusion. It was nice to have something other than that to focus on, and to start to feel like he was doing something other than waiting. He was almost starting to miss his homework and extra studies.

“He and I arm wrestled and broke a table,” Danielle informed proudly. “He’s got super strength, and a few other abilities,” she added when Danny’s brow rose significantly.

“Steph and the others want us to try again since it was a tie last time,” Jon admitted with a mild laugh. “But not right now. Bruce said it was fine if I came with you guys to the Watchtower since dad is working there today- well, he didn’t actually say it was okay, but he also didn’t say it wasn’t okay- So I came to get you guys with Cass.”

No one had really explained what the Watchtower was for other than the realm frequency scan, so Danny wasn’t sure what to make of Jon’s inclusion of his dad working there. Was his dad a scientist of sorts? An engineer? What were the people that worked with different realms called anyway?

“Are you ready to leave?” Cass asked, noting that neither Danny or Danielle seemed ready to go anywhere but the couch.

“We’re going now? I thought it wasn’t until four,” Danielle asked, not making any effort at all to get moving since it was only 10 am.

“It is. But we’re going early to allow for… exploration,” Cass confirmed, having to pause and think about the word she wanted to use for why they were going so early.

Danny grimaced a little at the thought of running around a large building, shoulders sagging. Six hours of walking around sounded like hell to his current state of being, and while he appreciated them not being rushed in and out of the place they were going, he didn’t want to be in pain again. “I’m not… really up for long walks,” he admitted reluctantly.

Cass didn’t mention she already figured that out. Instead she just reached down to tug on his and Danielle’s arms. “You will like this. I promise. We will carry you if needed,” she assured, her own excitement bubbling up. They had all agreed to tell none of the kids where the Watchtower was until they got there and could see for themselves. And it was for Danny that they were actually going so early, so she needed to make sure he came.

Danny let out a small snort at the offer, but obediently moved to follow her coaxing, half helping Danielle untangle herself from laying on his lap too.

“This better be worth interrupting my ‘sunbathing’,” Danielle joked, only slightly serious. She had been very comfortable, and wasn’t quite at full energy yet. But Cass’ excitement was rubbing off on her easily.

“It will be,” Cass assured again, pulling them along while making sure not to go too fast.

It was a little confusing that Cass took the small group to the Batcave instead of outside, taking the stairs very slowly, but after getting reminded they had vehicles down there too when they saw them Danny didn’t comment. What was still strange for him though was that everyone who was gathered there were dressed in their vigilante uniforms.

“Didn’t realize this was a formal event,” Danny commented with a slight frown, already slightly winded from the descent. Was it dangerous where they were going? Why were they all suited up?

Tim fortunately just chuckled at the comment. “There are a lot of people at the Watchtower who don’t know our civilian identities, and we’d like to keep it that way,” he explained easily enough.

“Can’t do much about you three,” Stephanie spoke up, looking at Jazz, Sam, and Tucker before shifting her gaze to Danny and Danielle, “But you two are welcome to ‘suit up’ with us if you’d like to keep some anonymity.”

It wasn’t something they had thought of, but at this point everyone in their group could agree that the less people who knew them the better. So with a brief nod to each other, Danielle quickly shifted into her ghost form. Danny was a little slower than her, having paused because of the half wonder if anything would be different considering how long it had been since he’d gone to his ghost form. But after a slightly larger breath to calm himself he reached for the familiar feeling, closing his eyes as the characteristic rings flashed over him.

Luckily, despite the injuries from the blood blossom, his ghost form didn’t have any strange side effects manifest. His now white hair was still affected by the semi weightless attribute this form had, his body feeling a little lighter itself. And the damage that had been done to his uniform had already been repaired as well, the bandages on his torso effectively hidden beneath the layers. He’d had to look when there had been a few mixed noises from the others, not sure if they had seen something unexpected. But it seemed to be that they had just been curious to see what his ghost form looked like compared to Danielle’s.

“Nice to officially meet you, Phantom,” Duke commented, holding his hand out that wasn’t keeping his helmet tucked under his other arm.

Danny couldn’t help snorting at the unexpected greeting, but nevertheless took Duke’s hand with a chuckle. “Nice to meet you too….uhh?” he returned, trailing since he didn’t know Duke���s alternate name.

“Signal,” Duke happily supplied. “Then there’s Batman, Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, and Robin.”

“And Superboy!” Jon chimed in, raising his hand while bouncing on his feet a bit.

“And Superboy,” Duke added with a chuckle.

“Nice to meet everyone,” Danny laughed lightly.

“What should we address you as?” Damian asked, looking at Danielle and noting that she and Danny definitely still looked like siblings even while in ghost form.

“Phantom,” Danielle responded, folding her arms and beaming with a proud smile.

“...You use the same vigilante name?” Stephanie asked, just to clarify.

“Yup. We have the same name as civilians, so why not?” Danielle grinned.

“...That’s confusing,” Tim commented. Even though he already knew quite a few other heroes who had the same hero names between two people, at least they had different civilian names and usually uniforms that were significantly different.

“Oh, we know,” Danielle confirmed, the mischievous hint to her smile becoming more prominent. “It’s on purpose.”

There was a slight shift in the demeanor of the group as they fully realized now that Danny and Danielle were that kind of sibling pair, and Danny had to chuckle again. “We’ve found it actually helps with anonymity quite a bit.”

“Like how no one can seem to tell the Robins apart when the picture isn’t dated,” Stephanie connected absently, earning several understanding hums and nods from the others.

“...It isn’t that hard,” Tim protested after a moment of looking mildly offended at the suggestion.

“You’re an outlier, Red. Your stalker opinions don’t count,” Stephanie countered, looking unimpressed.

“Even as an outlier!” Tim practically squawked, “It isn’t that hard!”

“Sure, sure. How ‘bout we get going before we all run out of the will to do so,” Duke placated, giving Tim a pat on the shoulders before steering him towards what looked like the entrance to a very large elevator to Danny and his friends and family.

Danny wasn’t sure if Duke was singling him out with that comment, but he appreciated the push for them to get moving anyway. Following the group as they filled into the semi enclosed space, Danny was expecting to feel the slight shudder of the elevator moving. But instead his vision flashed white for a brief second, and there was the residual semi static of energy leaving his flesh tingling just slightly.

_______________________

Oh look, another update real soon 8'D

These sections are a bit smaller simply because I have more pictures I want to draw for the scenes XD

Also THANK YOU to everyone who info dumped for me about Conner 8DD I feel like I can actually probably write him now. He'll show up briefly in like..... not the next chapter but the one after I think e,e I'm gonna pull Bart in too since Bart is actually my favorite speedster X'D (even if I don't actually know much about him other than the Young Justice cartoon. I just like his story and personality)

___________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[leafzu]

Yours Truly (Prologue)

Arrange marriage to Kento Nanami was so easy, so simple. You were scared. You've never been in a romantic relationship before and now you're married to someone about whom you knew almost nothing about.

Kento had his guard up you could tell. You were younger than him by four years. Did that bother him?

Did you bother him?

Well it didn't matter anyway. It's not like you're both in love.

But oh how you wished! How you wished to talk to him a little more throughout the day. How you wished to sit closer to him on the couch while he read his book away. How you wished to stand closed to him while cooking in the kitchen together.

He was always so nice to you, Kento. Aiding you in every way possible. Doing simple tasks for you, which you were more than capable of doing yourself. Making small talk with you to ease your uneasiness. He understands this is your first in everything in this relationship.

He's like a fairytale.

He's like a fairytale, you thought, every time he smiled at you. You thought that every time he messages you asking how you were doing, if you ate well. You thought that every time he brought something for you on his way home from work because he thought you might like it.

You loved it every time.

Each day the beat of you heart kept getting faster around him and you found yourself thinking about him even while asleep. What was this feeling? You liked it but you were also afraid of it. So many changes were made in your life through this marriage which scared you. You hated change, but Kento made it easier for you. Made it easy for you to accept these changes. These new feelings you felt scared you because you knew what they were. What they were going to turn into.

It was easy talking to him, telling him about things that make you smile. He only ever asked about you, how things were with you, what did you do all day, if you felt okay. It did make you a bit disappointed because there's so much you wanted to know. So much you wanted to ask, but he seemed to keep up a wall between you.

He took great care of you, no doubt. But is that all there is to your relationship with him, him caring for you and looking after you. You hated that thought. Why was he so close to you yet so far away at the same time.

You wanted to do what lovers did. Go on dates, hold hands, warm hugs, kissing under the moon.

Hot tears streamed down your face. How pathetic. You fell in love with someone who might spend the rest of his life with you but might not share his heart with you.

It hurt so much. Was love always this painful? Why couldn't you tell him how much you loved him?

Because you knew the answers. It scared you so much.

Slowly the distance started to become greater between you two. You talked a little less, only when it was necessary. Laughed a little less, forced one at that. You hated this new version of yourself. It was so vulnerable, so close to breaking.

Loneliness was a feeling you were oh so familiar with and that's exactly what you felt. Lonely with him.

I don't know how this turned out. You can it as a prologue chapter. Yes this is the rewriting of this arranged marriage fic with Nanami Kento. I hope you all like it. I poured my heart into this. I might not be that much active in updating but I will try my best, just need a little push from you all every now and then.

♡ - @brazenliar @erishishigami @ffyona1214 @patpatspatz @eliuriastwo @namikyento @keira80808 @midnightbarnes97 @yukithestar

[amethystfairy1]

Regarding the Iskall Situation...

I've received a lot of asks wondering about what my take is on it, and since I'd prefer to have it all taken care of in one swoop so we don't have to continue to focus on it, here's my stance on the subject.

A: Yes, I have seen the credible evidence from Kasszki, I read the doc they posted, and I feel awful for them and the other victims that they had to deal with this. I'm glad to hear that the Hermits and others were supportive of them and helped them handle this situation in as professional a manner as possible. I have also seen the credible information from False that Stress left for her own separate reasons.

B: I strongly denounce Iskall's behavior, and I have absolutely zero intention of supporting him as a creator ever again.

C: Please don't pester the creators or the victims. I said it in my initial response to this situation before we knew what had happened, but my opinion remains the same here. Any information we get from the Hermits is a privilege, not a right. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms are well known for being healthy, good spaces, and I'm proud to be a member of this community. Now our money is where our mouths are. Please don't feed into the rumor mill, please continue to support the Hermits as you always would and don't pry or demand more details from them. This is a very difficult situation for all of us, and I'm certain it's even worse for all of them. Please keep in mind the Hermits are all grown adults, many of them had professional careers before they joined Hermitcraft, and they are handling this in as professional a manner as they are able. I applaud them for that. As their fans, we need to do the same.

What are my plans for Iskall and Stress in TTSBC?

Understandably, I've received several asks about what I plan to do about Iskall and Stress's characters in TTSBC. I've answered them individually, but I just want to put this here as a one-stop spot for what my stance is so it's clear.

I've always been a 'character not content creator' author. My characters are just that, characters. Does that mean I can completely remove them from the creators upon which they are based? No, of course not. That's not how this works, either. So here's my plan moving forward.

The two stories that heavily feature Iskall in TTSBC, "Run with It' and "Carry me Home Tonight" will remain up. They are timestamped with their dates of posting which was long before any of this came out, and again, they are very clearly meant to be characters, not the creators.

Iskall will be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki, and I will not be writing any new content for his character.

Does that affect the plot of TTSBC? Yes, it does. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't, and those of you who have followed the series at length can likely see where the issues arise...but I'm an author, and I can pivot. I also have an awesome little team behind me of @silver-sunray, @boo-the-ahh, and @khoirkid who are helping me to make sure TTSBC carries on smoothly despite this unforeseen struggle.

Stress will not be removed from the TTSBC: Wiki. As I mentioned in an ask earlier, her role in the story is very minor, and I hadn't planned for her to have any other pieces to herself outside of Hermit-a-Day May anyway...so aside from specific instances where it might be necessary to mention her, she will not be making any more major appearances. This is mainly because I'm a Hermit/Traffic/Empires writer, and I plan to stick to that notion unless future events cause me to pivot otherwise.

Lastly, I would appreciate if we could avoid anymore asks about the situation. If there are any further updates I'm sure I'll find that out on my own, I'm very active in this fandom and I see things pretty quickly when they spread, so if any new things related to this situation spring up, while I greatly appreciate your concern for me and my work, please don't send it to my inbox or in DM.

I'm very saddened by this, as I'm sure many of you are. Hermitcraft and it's associated fandoms have been my safe space for many years, through some of the hardest moments of my life, and with the mess that MCYT has proven itself to be at times, it felt like we were untouchable here. But like Doc said, the Hermits are good, and they are strong. And as their fans and supporters, we need to be the same.

Be good, be strong, and let's make sure our lovely community continues to be the positive space it always has been.

-Amethyst

[notscarsafe]

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

[temptaetions]

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

genre: best friends to lovers | idiots in love | x fem!reader | smut | fluff | angst

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip. 

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise. 

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?" 

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs. 

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek. 

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears. 

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm. 

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?" 

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed. 

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them. 

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[sherewrytes]

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Taglist: (you can comment to be added)

@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45 @laitifly @burpzz @prettypink-princesss

Chapter: Lost in da sauce

The following week was a blur of deadlines and classes for Y/n, her mind constantly drifting back to Toji and the cryptic words his uncle had said. She hadn’t seen Toji since that night at the shop, though she hadn’t been actively avoiding him either. He was an enigma, a tangle of contradictions she couldn’t quite unravel. And now, the small world she had been so carefully navigating—architecture projects, hanging out with Mei Mei and Shoko, balancing her coursework—felt too small to contain the storm of thoughts whirling in her mind.

It was late one evening, long after her last class, when she found herself once again outside the mechanic shop. The dim glow of the street lamps cast long shadows over the alleyways, the faint sounds of cars rushing by in the distance. She wasn't sure why she came—maybe part of her wanted answers, or maybe she just wanted to see him.

She stepped inside the shop, the familiar smell of grease and metal flooding her senses. It was quiet, too quiet for a place usually bustling with noise. The silence felt heavy, as though it carried the weight of secrets that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

"Y/n," Toji's voice cut through the stillness, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned to see him standing by one of the cars he was working on, a lit cigarette between his lips, his tattoos catching the flickering light. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked over her, and she felt that familiar pull—dangerous, magnetic, and impossible to resist.

"You shouldn’t be here," Toji said, his voice low but not unkind. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, watching her with a careful intensity that made her stomach flip.

"Maybe I shouldn’t," she replied, stepping closer. "But I’m here anyway."

Toji’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before setting it aside. "You’re looking for something. What is it?"

Y/n hesitated, the questions swirling in her mind bubbling to the surface. "I don’t know… answers? About you, about what you’re involved in."

He stiffened slightly at her words, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air between them.

"It’s complicated," he finally said, his voice rougher than usual. "You don’t need to get involved in this."

"I’m already involved, aren’t I?" Y/n shot back, her frustration bubbling over. "You can’t just kiss me and then act like I’m not going to ask questions, Toji. I’m not stupid."

Toji’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moved toward her, his presence filling the space between them. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, and despite her anger, she felt herself leaning into the warmth of his touch.

"You don’t understand, Y/n," he said softly, his thumb grazing her skin. "There’s a lot going on. Things that you’re better off not knowing. If you dig too deep, you won’t like what you find."

"Try me," she whispered, searching his face for any sign that he might let her in.

For a moment, the mask he always wore seemed to falter, something raw and vulnerable flashing in his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the familiar stoic expression she had come to know.

"It’s not that simple," he muttered, stepping back, his hand falling away from her. He turned back to the car, as though using it as a shield to distance himself from her questions.

Y/n watched him for a moment, her heart aching with frustration. "So that’s it? You’re just going to shut me out?"

Toji didn’t look at her, his hands busy with the engine, but his voice carried an edge of finality. "It’s for your own good."

The words stung, and for a brief moment, Y/n considered storming out, letting the door slam behind her and walking away from whatever this was. But then she thought back to the way he had looked at her that night, the way his touch had lingered just a little too long, and the way his kiss had spoken of more than just lust. There was something deeper there, something he wasn’t saying.

"Toji," she said, her voice softer now, "I don’t need you to protect me. I just need you to be honest with me."

Toji stopped working, his hands resting on the car as he finally turned to face her. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for, Y/n," he murmured, stepping closer to her once again. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and something she couldn’t quite name.

"Then tell me," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me understand."

Toji sighed, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke before meeting her gaze again.

"My family," he began slowly, "they're not what you think. The Zenin name… it carries weight. My uncle… the one you met… he's involved in things that are better left unsaid."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, the puzzle pieces slowly starting to click into place. She had always suspected something was off, with the way Toji moved, the quiet conversations, the subtle tension in the air whenever his uncle was mentioned. But hearing it out loud was different.

"You’re part of it, aren’t you?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Toji’s silence was all the confirmation she needed.

"It’s not by choice," he said quietly. "But it’s my responsibility now."

Y/n felt the weight of his words settle over her. This wasn’t just about some family business—it was about power, control, and danger. And yet, despite the growing sense of unease, she couldn’t walk away.

"And me?" she asked softly, meeting his gaze. "Where do I fit in all of this?"

Toji stepped closer, his hand once again finding its way to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. "You don’t," he said, his voice low. "And I’m trying to keep it that way."

Sukuna had been leaning against the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room when he noticed Toji and Y/n standing close, lost in their own world. He smirked and nudged Gojo, who had been joking around nearby. "Look at that," Sukuna murmured under his breath, motioning toward the pair.

Gojo, ever the playful spirit, grinned mischievously as he watched Toji with Y/n. "Aww, how cute," he teased. But then something shifted in his gaze when he noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye—the unmistakable presence of Toji’s uncle, looming in the background, watching intently.

Without hesitation, Gojo strolled over to Toji, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. His usual carefree tone was replaced with a more serious one as he spoke in code, something only Toji would understand. "Your uncle’s eyes are on you, bro. You know better."

The moment Gojo’s words sank in, Toji’s expression changed. His face hardened, the warmth and easy demeanor he had with Y/n disappearing almost instantly. He turned to her, his eyes colder than she had ever seen them before. The sudden shift made her stomach twist in confusion and discomfort.

“Toji, what’s going on?” Y/n asked, her voice small, unsure of what just happened.

Toji didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on her for a second too long, as if fighting some inner battle, but then he turned his back on her without another word. Mumbling something to Gojo under his breath, he walked away, his broad frame retreating toward his uncle, leaving Y/n standing there, stunned and hurt by the sudden coldness.

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Y/n, his usual playful demeanor returning, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don’t take it personally. He’s got a lot on his plate," Gojo said, stepping closer to her.

Y/n’s brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "But why did he—"

"Come on," Gojo interrupted gently, his usual grin appearing on his face. "Let me drop you back home. Toji's… dealing with things." He reached out a hand to her, his easygoing nature trying to soften the blow of Toji’s sudden departure.

Y/n hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but she nodded, not wanting to be left alone in the strange atmosphere that had developed in the shop. As they walked toward Gojo’s car, Y/n glanced back once more, catching a glimpse of Toji standing beside his uncle, his back turned to her. Her heart ached, the warmth and connection they had shared moments ago now replaced with a chilling distance she couldn’t understand.

But as his lips ghosted over hers, and the heat between them flared once more, Y/n knew that keeping her out was the last thing he wanted to do. Y/n jumped into Gojo’s car, slamming the door with more force than she intended. Her mind was swirling with emotions—confusion, frustration, hurt—but most of all, she was angry. Toji’s sudden change in demeanor felt like a slap in the face, and the cryptic way everyone around him acted didn’t help.

As Gojo started the engine, Y/n couldn’t hold it in any longer. "What the hell was that, Gojo?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the tension. "You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on with Toji. What’s his deal? One minute he’s fine, the next, he’s acting like I’m nobody!"

Gojo kept his eyes on the road, his usual light-hearted nature fading into something more serious. "Y/n… it’s not my place to say," he replied, his voice lower than usual.

"Not your place?" she snapped. "You can’t be serious. I just watched him walk away from me like I’m nothing. And you’re telling me you’re not gonna give me anything?"

He sighed but didn’t take his eyes off the road. "Even if it were my place, you’re not part of that world. None of this is your business."

Y/n blinked, shocked by his bluntness. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice rising with disbelief. "Not my business? Are you seriously telling me that after everything I’ve seen—after everything you’ve let me be around—that I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend it’s not happening?"

Gojo finally glanced her way, his normally bright eyes dimmed with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before. "Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying."

Y/n’s anger flared even more at his calm response. "What the hell is wrong with you guys? Your whole crew acts like this—like you're in some secret world, and I’m just supposed to be okay with being left in the dark! I’m not stupid, Gojo. I see the tattoos, the scars, the whispers when Toji’s uncle shows up. You’re all playing some dangerous game, and I’m tired of being on the outside, acting like I don’t notice."

Gojo remained silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as she continued tearing into him. "Toji’s like two different people, and you all enable it. Sukuna, Geto, you—they’re all part of this mess, aren’t they? And now you’re telling me to stay out of it like I’m just some… some extra who doesn’t matter!"

Y/n stopped, breathing hard, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she had been holding in. The car’s engine hummed in the silence that followed. For a moment, Gojo said nothing, just staring at the road ahead.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, glancing at her briefly before turning back to the road. "You done?"

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?" she asked, her tone still sharp.

"I said, are you done?" Gojo repeated, his voice calm, almost too calm. He didn’t seem phased by her outburst, didn’t flinch at her words. It was as if her anger had bounced off him, leaving no impact.

She stared at him, her frustration growing. "You’re seriously not going to say anything?"

Gojo let out a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly. "What do you want me to say, Y/n? That you’re right? That Toji’s life is messed up? That we’re all involved in some shit you can’t even begin to understand? You already know that. But you still think you can just dive into this world and everything’s gonna make sense? It’s not that simple."

She scoffed, crossing her arms, her body rigid in the passenger seat. "Then make it simple for me. Explain something, anything."

Gojo’s jaw tightened for a second. "Here’s the thing, Y/n," he said, his tone a little sharper now. "Toji’s got a lot going on—stuff that’s been building long before you came around. He’s got responsibilities, ones that come with a price. You walking into that? You wouldn’t survive it."

Her eyes narrowed, his words stoking the fire inside her even more. "I can handle myself. I don’t need you to protect me."

Gojo’s lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. "That’s what you think. But trust me, Toji’s world… it’ll swallow you whole. And once you’re in, there’s no getting out." He glanced at her again. "So yeah, maybe it’s best you stay on the outside."

Y/n’s hands clenched into fists in her lap, the weight of his words settling in, but they didn’t quiet the storm inside her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was happening, something that involved Toji on a deeper level. She wasn’t just going to accept his sudden coldness, or this brush-off from Gojo.

"So, what?" she finally asked, her voice calmer but no less firm. "I’m just supposed to forget about tonight? About what happened with Toji?"

Gojo didn’t answer right away, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths. After a long pause, he pulled up in front of her apartment building. The car stopped, and he turned to her, his eyes softer now but still serious.

"I’m telling you, Y/n, let this one go. Toji’s got his own demons to fight. You can’t save him from them."

Without another word, Gojo unlocked the doors. Y/n stared at him for a moment, her heart heavy with frustration and confusion. She knew there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t being told. But for now, she had no choice but to leave it where it was.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and stepped out, glancing back at Gojo one last time before closing the door behind her. As the car pulled away, disappearing down the street, Y/n stood there, feeling more lost than ever.

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

Before Gojo could fully pull away, Y/n, fueled by anger and frustration, called out to him. "Gojo, wait." He stopped the car and looked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Give Toji a message for me," she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and resolve. "Tell him to just forget about me. I’m no longer interested."

Gojo’s expression shifted, his usual easygoing nature momentarily replaced by something more serious. He turned off the car engine, took a deep breath, and got out, rounding the car until he was standing in front of her. His gaze softened slightly as he leaned against the car, arms crossed. "Y/n, chill."

"Chill?" Y/n’s voice shot up as she stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell are you on? Are you serious right now?" Her eyes blazed, her patience worn thin. "Are you on crack or something?"

Gojo scoffed, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Nah, that shit ain't my thing." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "But I’m serious, you need to cool down. I get it, you’re pissed. Toji messed up, and this whole thing sucks, but saying you're 'no longer interested'?" He shook his head. "You don’t mean that."

Y/n crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. "I do. I’m tired of being left in the dark, tired of all the games, tired of you guys acting like I’m just some outsider who doesn’t deserve to know what’s going on. If he wants to treat me like I don’t matter, then fine. I’ll walk away."

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I can’t pretend to know everything that’s going on in Toji’s head. He’s a mess right now, I’ll give you that. But walking away? You sure that’s what you want?" His voice softened, his blue eyes searching hers for a sign that maybe she didn’t really mean it.

Y/n bit her lip, looking away for a moment. A part of her wanted to take it back, to hold onto the Toji she thought she knew, the one she felt drawn to despite everything. But then she remembered how cold he had been, how distant and dismissive. Her heart ached, but her pride refused to let her crumble.

"I’m sure," she finally said, though her voice faltered just slightly. "He made his choice, and now I’m making mine."

Gojo studied her for a moment, his smirk gone, replaced by something more genuine. "Alright," he said, nodding. "I’ll tell him, but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t take it well." He tilted his head, giving her a small smile. "Toji doesn’t exactly do well with people walking away."

Y/n huffed. "Well, he should’ve thought about that before treating me like nothing."

Gojo stood up straight, walking back around to the driver’s side. "Noted," he said as he got back in the car. "But just so you know… Toji’s not the type to forget. So don’t be too shocked if he comes knocking anyway."

With that, he revved the engine and shot her one last look, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Take care, Y/n."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, heart pounding, thoughts racing. Part of her wanted to believe that walking away was the right choice, that cutting ties with Toji Zenin would give her the peace she craved.

But deep down, she knew—Toji was far from done with her. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready to let him go either.

Gojo headed back to the shop, his usual carefree demeanor slightly more subdued. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of Sukuna pacing back and forth, his face twisted in frustration. Toji, meanwhile, sat in the corner, an air of fury radiating from him as he eyed Geto. His expression was a mixture of anger and annoyance, his jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might crack.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, mumbling under his breath, “His uncle at it again, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a glare but said nothing, continuing his agitated pacing. Gojo, not wanting to deal with Sukuna’s temper, walked over to Toji, who was nursing a busted lip. Toji had a joint hanging loosely from his lips, smoke curling lazily around his head as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The sight of him, beaten and bruised, sent a ripple of tension through Gojo. He knew Toji’s temper, knew how dangerous he could be when pushed to his limit. And from the look on his face, he was teetering dangerously close to that edge.

Gojo hesitated, glancing at the watch on his hand. He debated whether he should tell Toji what Y/n had said earlier, but seeing the state his friend was in, he quickly decided against it. The last thing Toji needed was another reason to spiral.

But as if fate had a cruel sense of timing, Toji’s phone buzzed on the table next to him. He picked it up and glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing immediately.

It was a text from Y/n.

"I know Gojo’s too much of a punk to tell you what I said,so you better ask him"

Gojo watched as Toji’s expression darkened further, the tension in the room becoming almost unbearable. Toji’s hands tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he read the message. His lips curled into a dangerous sneer, and without taking his eyes off the screen, he growled, "Tell me exactly what she said, Satoru."

Gojo, caught off guard, froze for a moment. “Huh?” He knew what Toji was referring to, but hoped playing dumb might defuse the situation.

Toji’s gaze flicked up to Gojo, his eyes cold and filled with a quiet fury. “Don’t play with me right now,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Tell me what Y/n said.”

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he weighed his options. Toji wasn’t going to let this go. He might as well rip off the bandage. "She, uh, told me to give you a message. Said she’s done. Doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore." He hesitated, then added, "She told me to tell you to stay the fuck away from her."

The room went dead silent. Sukuna stopped pacing, and even Geto, who had been lounging nearby, straightened up, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

Toji’s expression hardened further, his eyes like shards of ice as he stared at the text on his phone. Slowly, he set the phone down, leaning back in his chair. His jaw worked as he bit down on the joint, smoke swirling around his head in a thick cloud.

"Stay the fuck away from her, huh?" Toji muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

Gojo winced, knowing this was far from over. He could see the storm brewing in Toji’s eyes, the dangerous mix of rage and obsession that was simmering just beneath the surface. Y/n’s message hadn’t deterred him—it had only made things worse.

Toji took another drag from his joint, the smoke curling lazily as he exhaled. He stood up slowly, wiping the blood from his lip again, and glanced over at Sukuna and Geto. "We’re not done," he said, his voice cold and emotionless.

Gojo knew that look. It was the look of a man who had already made up his mind. Toji wasn’t about to let Y/n slip away—not without a fight.

And when Toji decided to fight for something, he never lost.

Gojo watched in silence as Toji stood up from the chair, his entire body taut with tension. He wasn’t moving in a rush, but there was something ominous in his slow, deliberate movements. He could feel the weight of what was coming; whatever Toji had planned next wasn’t going to end well for anyone. Especially Y/n.

Sukuna stopped pacing and turned to look at Toji, an eyebrow raised. "What’s the plan?" Sukuna asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was bracing himself for Toji's inevitable outburst.

Toji flicked his gaze toward Sukuna, his expression unreadable. "Same plan as always," he said, voice low. "Business first. Then I’ll deal with her."

Gojo swallowed, knowing better than to push further but couldn't help but feel unsettled. "And what does ‘deal with her’ mean?" Gojo asked, despite himself, hoping to at least gauge just how far gone Toji was.

Toji turned to face him fully, a cold smile playing on his lips. "It means I’ll remind her that no one walks away from me. Especially not someone like her."

Gojo’s blood ran cold at the calm way Toji said it, as if Y/n was just another problem to be solved. He wasn’t used to seeing Toji this far into his own head, consumed by the need to control something—or in this case, someone.

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "You sure that’s a good idea, Toji?" he asked, his voice still laid-back, but his eyes sharp. "She already wants out. You think pushing her is gonna do you any favors?"

Toji’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained steady. "She thinks she can run. She thinks that by telling me to stay away, it’s over. But she doesn’t know me. Not yet."

Gojo could see Sukuna shift, glancing at Geto, who remained silent on the other side of the room. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Toji’s gaze flicked back to Gojo, as if daring him to say something. But Gojo remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would sway Toji in this state. He was a man with a singular focus—Y/n.

Toji picked up his phone, staring at Y/n’s text one last time before locking the screen. "She’ll come around," he muttered, almost to himself. "She just doesn’t know it yet."

Gojo sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Look, man, maybe you should chill for a bit, y’know? She’s pissed, sure, but pushing her—"

Toji cut him off with a sharp look. "I don’t care if she’s pissed, Satoru. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. She just needs to be reminded."

Sukuna finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about reminding her, Toji. It’s about control. And you’re losing it."

Toji's eyes flashed dangerously, but before he could respond, Sukuna held up a hand. "I’m not saying you let her go. But you gotta be smart about this. What’s the point in claiming her if she hates your guts? You want her, right? So stop scaring her off."

For a moment, it seemed like Sukuna’s words had gotten through, but then Toji shook his head, his expression hardening once more. "She’s not going anywhere."

Gojo let out a frustrated breath, but it was clear the conversation was over. Toji had made up his mind, and there was no reasoning with him when he got like this.

A sudden buzzing noise filled the room, and Gojo realized it was Toji’s phone. He checked the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read another message from Y/n:

"Don't even think about showing your face near me again Zenin. I swear"

Gojo felt the room shift, the weight of Y/n’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Toji’s face was unreadable as he stared at the screen, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

Without a word, Toji stood up, his phone still in his hand. He didn’t look at anyone as he moved toward the door, his movements quick and decisive.

"Toji, wait—" Gojo called after him, but Toji didn’t stop. He was already gone, out the door before anyone could say another word.

Sukuna let out a low whistle. "This is gonna get ugly."

Geto, who had remained silent through the entire exchange, finally spoke up. "It already is."

Gojo slumped back against the wall, running a hand over his face. He knew what was coming. He knew Toji wasn’t going to let this go, not without a fight. And Y/n… she had no idea what kind of storm was about to hit her.

"You think we should stop him?" Gojo asked, though he already knew the answer.

Sukuna shrugged, a dark smile tugging at his lips. "We can’t stop him. Not when it comes to her."

Geto nodded in agreement. "Toji’s already too far gone. The best we can do is pick up the pieces when it all blows up."

Gojo sighed. "Yeah… I just hope there’s something left to pick up."

Toji stormed toward his custom black 1979 Dodge Charger, a dark cloud of rage hanging over him like a thunderstorm ready to burst. The world around him faded as his focus narrowed, every muscle in his body tense and ready for a fight. But just as he reached the driver’s door, a gunshot rang out, echoing in the air with a sharp crack that made his heart leap.

Expecting pain, Toji braced himself, but instead, he felt the rush of air as the bullet missed him, striking the tire of his car instead. He scoffed, disbelief and fury igniting inside him as he turned, glaring at his uncle Naobito, who stood there with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Oops, I missed,” Naobito mocked, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “Next time, I’ll aim for Y/n.”

Toji’s blood ran cold, his entire body going rigid with rage. The mere thought of his uncle threatening Y/n was enough to snap the last fraying thread of his restraint. He couldn’t let this man get to her. Not now, not ever.

He shot Sukuna a quick glance, then tossed his car keys at him without a second thought. “fix the flat on this,” he growled, knowing Sukuna would have it sorted by the time he was back at the shop. His focus was already shifting toward Gojo, who stood nearby, a look of surprise and concern on his face.

Before he could process anything further, Toji snatched Gojo's car keys from his hand and hopped into the driver’s seat of the Mazda RX-8. The engine roared to life, drowning out the chaos behind him as he slammed the accelerator, peeling away from the shop with a screech of tires.

The adrenaline coursed through him as he sped through the streets, his mind racing just as fast as the car. He needed to get to Y/n, to make sure she was safe from the threat that loomed over her like a dark shadow. The thought of Naobito’s words replayed in his mind, stoking the flames of his anger. There was no way he’d let his uncle have power over his life or Y/n’s.

As he drove, the city lights blurred past him, neon signs flickering like stars in the night. Toji felt the pull of the streets, the rush of street racing calling to him, but he pushed it aside for now. There was only one thing on his mind—Y/n.

He navigated through the bustling streets, weaving between cars and taking sharp turns, his heart pounding with urgency. The closer he got to her apartment, the more determined he became. She deserved to know the truth, to understand the danger that surrounded him.

Pulling into her building’s lot, he parked hastily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He jumped out of the car and sprinted towards the entrance, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her. He’d face his uncle and the mafia if it meant keeping Y/n safe.

Rage ignited within Toji, burning hot and fierce. He turned to glare at his uncle, but before he could react, Sukuna stepped forward, his expression serious. “Let’s go, Toji. We need to get you out of here.”

Ignoring the concern in Sukuna’s eyes, Toji scoffed, tossing his car keys toward him. “I’m not running from this.” With renewed determination, he snatched Gojo's car keys from his pocket and revved the engine, the powerful growl of the engine matching the storm brewing inside him. He was already on his way to Y/n’s, and nothing would stop him.

He had no intention of sharing his truth—his mafia ties, the chaos that surrounded him—no way was he letting her in on that world. He couldn’t let her slip away, not now that he’d finally found the courage to approach her, to pursue something real. Even if it meant telling half-truths, he’d play whatever game he had to.

When he arrived at Y/n's door, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction. He knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet night. A moment later, the door swung open, and there she stood—her fiery spirit radiating from her, eyes filled with anger.

“Didn’t Gojo tell you I don’t want you?” she snapped, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “I texted you! I’m done. I mean, we weren’t ever anything, but I’m not doing whatever the fuck this is, Zenin.”

Toji felt a sharp pain in his chest at her words. “Y/n, just hear me out,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady. He stepped closer, determined to break through her defenses. “I know what you heard, but I’m not here for the drama. I just want to talk.”

“Talk?” She scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You think you can just show up here after the way you've been acting and expect me to listen? You think I’m going to let you pull me into whatever mess you have going on?”

Toji swallowed hard, sensing the wall she’d built between them. “It’s not like that. I just—I need you to know that I didn’t come here to hurt you. I know things are complicated, but I want to figure it out. I want to understand you, and—”

Y/n cut him off, shaking her head. “Understand me? You don’t even know me, Toji! All you know is how to act tough and make threats. You think you can just walk into my life and say you want to understand? You’re part of something I don’t want to be involved in.”

Toji's heart sank as he looked into her eyes, and he could see the resolve in them. He could feel the distance between them growing, and with every word she threw at him, he realized how deep the chasm had become. “I’m not asking you to be part of anything,” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just want you to let me in.”

She hesitated for a moment, and in that pause, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could break through, maybe she would give him a chance. But then her expression hardened again, and the hope faded.

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re not safe for me, Toji. You think you can just come in here, smile, and pretend everything is okay? You can’t just erase the fact that you’re tangled up in sum fuck shit you won't even tell me about.”

Toji’s chest tightened, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice to a softer tone. “I know I have things to sort out, but I swear I’m trying to change. I don’t want that life. I want something real. With you.”

Y/n’s eyes searched his face, her expression wavering. He could see the conflict within her, the part that was drawn to him despite the warnings. But just as quickly, her resolve returned. “You need to leave, Toji. I can’t do this.”

Toji felt like the ground had shifted beneath him, leaving him unsteady. “I can’t just walk away. Not now. Not after getting close to you.”

The intensity of his words hung in the air, but Y/n remained unmoved, shaking her head slowly.

“Then you’re making a mistake,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is your choice. You can either keep running toward that life, or you can turn around and leave it behind. But I can’t be part of your chaos.”

Toji clenched his fists, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. He had fought too hard to let this slip away. “I’m not asking you to join me in the chaos,” he said, his voice fierce. “I’m asking you to trust me. Just give me a chance.”

But Y/n stood firm, the door blocking the world behind her. “Trust is earned, Toji. You’ve got a long way to go.”

With that, she closed the door, leaving him outside, staring at the closed barrier between them. Each word she’d spoken echoed in his mind, and for the first time, he understood the weight of the choices he’d made.

As he turned away, a storm of emotions surged within him. He couldn’t lose her, not when he was finally ready to fight for what mattered. But if he was going to keep her in his life, he knew he had to confront the darkness and break free from the chains binding him to his past.

Toji made a silent vow to himself: he would not give up. He would prove to her that he was more than just the sum of his mistakes.

Toji leaned against Y/n's door, his resolve hardening as he pulled out his phone to check for notifications. A message from his younger brother, Megumi, popped up on the screen, and Toji's heart sank at the words that flashed before him: Dad knows about you and Y/n.

He scoffed under his breath, muttering, “There is no ‘me and Y/n.’” then texted the same.

Megumi responded almost instantly with a laughing emoji: Keep telling yourself that when everyone can see otherwise.

Toji’s stomach twisted at the thought of his family’s involvement in his life, particularly his father’s disapproval. He had worked hard to carve out a space for himself away from their expectations, and he refused to let them dictate this part of his life, especially when it came to Y/n.

With a heavy sigh, he knocked on her door again, feeling a mix of frustration and desperation. When Y/n opened it, her expression was a mixture of irritation and surprise. “Toji, please leave,” she said firmly, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not now.

“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended, but he pushed past her, stepping into her apartment. His breath caught as he took in the sight before him. The space was stunning—filled with carefully curated furniture and art pieces that screamed her passion for interior design and architecture. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating the vibrant colors and textures that reflected her Caribbean roots.

He’d seen her talent in passing, but being here, surrounded by her work, ignited a newfound admiration within him. This was a world where she thrived, and he felt a pang of longing to be part of it.

“Get out, Zenin,” Y/n raised her voice, her patience clearly wearing thin.

Toji’s heart raced as he stepped closer, instinctively reaching out to grab her wrist. Before she could protest, he pulled her to him, letting her fall into his lap as he sank down onto her plush couch. He felt the heat radiating off her body, and the scent of her shampoo—a sweet, floral aroma—filled his senses.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. He could feel the tension between them, electric and thick. He had no idea how to fix this or where to begin, but he knew he couldn’t let her push him away.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “Sorry for what? For barging into my home uninvited? For pretending like everything is fine when it’s clearly not?”

“For everything,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know I messed up. I didn’t mean to make things complicated. I just—I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/n stiffened, her expression wavering between anger and something softer. “You’re not going to lose me by ignoring the reality of your life, Toji. You’re tangled up in something dangerous. You can’t just pull me in and expect it to be easy.”

“I don’t want you to be part of that,” he replied, his grip tightening around her waist instinctively. “But I need you to understand that I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be someone you can rely on.”

“Change?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You think a few sweet words will erase everything you’ve done? You think I can just forget who you are?”

Toji stared at her, the intensity in her gaze making his chest ache. “No, I don’t expect you to forget. But I want a chance to show you I’m more than what everyone thinks I am. I’m not just ‘Toji Zenin, the bad boy.’ I want to be something different. I want to be with you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw the walls she’d built around her begin to crack. “And what if I can’t trust you?” she challenged, her voice trembling slightly. “What if this is all just some game to you?”

“It’s not a game,” he insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’m not trying to play with your feelings. I came here because I want you, Y/n. You’re not just another girl to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, he leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against her ear. “Just give me a chance. Let me prove it.”

For a moment, the world around them faded away, and all he could focus on was her. The way her heart raced beneath his touch, the way her breath quickened. He could sense her hesitation, but in the depths of her eyes, he saw something else—a flicker of hope, a hint of longing that mirrored his own.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, almost breathless. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?” he asked, leaning back slightly to look into her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said firmly. “Be honest about everything. No more secrets. I can’t do this if I don’t know the truth.”

Toji nodded, the weight of her request settling on his shoulders. “I promise,” he vowed, feeling a surge of determination. “No more secrets.”

As the moment hung between them, he felt a spark of something real igniting in the air. He had a long way to go, but he would fight for this, for her. Whatever it took.

Toji knew he had just lied to Y/n, and the weight of it settled heavily in his gut. He wanted to protect her, to keep her away from the darkness that loomed over his life, but he also felt the suffocating grip of the truth closing in around him. He couldn’t let her get caught up in the chaos of the Zenin family, the secrets that tangled like a web around him. Not when he was finally starting to feel something real for her.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. The scent of her lingered in the air, intoxicating and sweet. He leaned closer, his heart racing as he took in the warmth of her body against his. “What scent is this?” he asked, his voice low and slightly husky.

“Hot Florals by Bath and Body Works,” Y/n replied, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone as she felt the intensity of his gaze on her.

He inhaled deeper, allowing the fragrance to envelop him. “You smell so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice a rasp that sent a shiver down her spine. There was a spark in her eyes, one that he hadn’t noticed before, and it ignited something primal within him. The way she responded to his words made his heart race, and he found himself leaning even closer, his lips nearly brushing against her neck.

Y/n swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she felt the heat radiating off him. “Toji…” she started, but the words faltered as he pressed his face deeper into her scent, intoxicated by the floral notes mixed with something uniquely hers.

“Tell me you feel this,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above her skin, teasingly close but not crossing the line. “Tell me you feel what’s happening between us.”

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is all so sudden…”

He could feel the tension building, thick and heavy like a storm brewing in the air. Toji’s instincts kicked in, and he wanted to push forward, to claim this moment with her and make her understand just how much she meant to him. “I don’t want to rush you, but I can’t pretend like I don’t want you,” he confessed, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

Y/n looked at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and longing. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No,” he said firmly, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him. “I mean it. But I can’t let you in on all the details of my life—not yet. Not until I can keep you safe.”

Her brows furrowed as she processed his words. “Safe? From what, Toji?”

“From my world,” he replied, his voice dropping to a murmur. “It’s not a place for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from that side of me. You deserve better than that.”

“Better than you?” she challenged, her tone incredulous. “You think you’re not worth it because of your family?”

“I’m trying to protect you, Y/n,” he insisted, his grip tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer again. “I want you to be happy, and that means keeping you away from the shit I’m tied to.”

Y/n searched his eyes, looking for the truth beneath the surface. “But you can’t just keep me in the dark either. If we’re going to do this, I need to know who you really are.”

Toji sighed, torn between wanting to share everything and fearing what that would mean for her. “I just wish things were different. I wish I could show you the real me without the shadows.”

“I don’t want you to hide,” she said softly, her expression softening. “But I also won’t settle for half-truths.”

He nodded, the determination surging within him. “Then let’s start fresh. I’ll tell you what I can, and you can decide if you still want to be around me. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Careful?” she scoffed lightly, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “I can handle myself, Zenin. But I appreciate the concern.”

Toji chuckled softly, his mood lifting slightly. “You’re stubborn.”

“Only when I need to be,” she retorted, her lips curling into a smile. The moment felt lighter, the tension beginning to ease as they settled into a more comfortable rhythm.

As he looked into her eyes, he felt a sense of hope building. He might be lying to her about some things, but there was one truth he couldn’t deny: he wanted her in his life, regardless of the risks. And he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if that meant facing the demons of his past head-on.

“Okay, then,” he said, breaking the moment with a playful grin. “Let’s take it one step at a time. How about you tell me more about your design projects, and I’ll share a bit about my—less glamorous—life?”

Y/n smiled back, the warmth between them rekindling as she launched into a passionate explanation of her latest design concept. For the first time, Toji felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. Toji smiled, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body against his. Her laughter rang sweetly in his ears, a sound he could easily become addicted to. He couldn’t help but revel in the way she ran her fingers through his hair, igniting a spark of affection in his chest.

“Your hands are magic,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly to savor the sensation. But then her expression shifted, and he felt the weight of her gaze as she studied his face.

“What happened to your face?” she asked, concern knitting her brow.

Toji’s mind flashed back to the earlier confrontation with his uncle, the fight that had left its mark. He could still feel the sting of the words exchanged and the blow to his pride. He forced a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Oh, that? Just a little roughhousing with Sukuna at the shop. He was giving me a hard time for being mean to you earlier,” he lied smoothly, hoping the casual tone would deflect any further probing.

“Roughhousing?” she repeated skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through his facade. “You look like you went ten rounds with a boxer.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, leaning back slightly to brush it off. “Sukuna and I can get a bit competitive, that’s all.” He flashed her a playful grin, hoping to lighten the mood. “You should’ve seen the other guy,” he added, trying to inject humor into the situation.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” she challenged, crossing her arms in front of her. “You can’t just shrug it off. I care about you, Toji.”

His heart thudded at her words, the sincerity in her tone making him feel both elated and terrified. “I appreciate that, but seriously, it’s really not a big deal,” he said, his voice softening. “I just… I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“But I can’t help it,” she replied, her gaze unwavering. “If we’re going to do this—whatever this is—I need to know you’re okay. I want to be there for you, not just some passing interest.”

Toji’s chest tightened at her words. He wanted to let her in, to share everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly—but he couldn’t bring himself to drag her into his messy life. Not when she looked at him like he was something precious, something worth protecting.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” he said finally, his voice earnest. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Y/n huffed a little laugh, her worry softening. “I can see that. But just know, I’m not going anywhere. If you ever need to talk—about anything—I’m here. Even if it means hearing about your roughhousing antics with Sukuna.”

Toji felt a wave of warmth wash over him at her words. “You really mean that?” he asked, his heart swelling.

“Of course I do,” she replied, her smile brightening the room. “I’m not easily scared off, Zenin. Trust me.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tighter as he pulled her closer. “Because I might need you more than you realize.”

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Toji felt a mix of emotions swirling within him—gratitude, affection, and a lingering sense of dread about what the future held. But with Y/n by his side, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could find a way to balance his chaotic life with the growing connection they shared.

Y/n shifted slightly, resting her head against his shoulder. “So, how’s your day going aside from the ‘roughhousing’?”

Toji chuckled softly, “Honestly? It’s gotten a lot better now that I'm here with you.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Because I plan to use it all on you.”

As the laughter faded, they both settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought but feeling the warmth of the moment. For the first time in a long while, Toji felt like maybe—just maybe—he could let someone in and still keep them safe from the storms brewing in his life.

Toji found himself lost in Y/n’s eyes, the depth of them pulling him in, making him feel more vulnerable than he ever intended. He wasn’t used to this—letting his guard down. But something about Y/n disarmed him, made him feel like he could be himself, even if he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

Y/n smiled, noticing his gaze lingering longer than usual. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, her voice soft, teasing, but curious.

Toji snapped out of his thoughts, smirking in an attempt to mask the whirlwind of emotions running through his mind. He cleared his throat and leaned in slightly. “Because you look good,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice carrying a hint of playful mischief. “That’s why.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a bit, but she laughed and lightly smacked his chest. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Smooth Talker.”

Toji was about to respond, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He subtly pulled it out, glancing at the message from Gojo:

"Swinging by Y/n’s to pick up my car and drop off yours. But heads up—your uncle’s asking about you and Y/n. Try to keep her out of shit."

Toji’s jaw tightened slightly as he skimmed the message. His shoulders tensed, and an involuntary wave of protectiveness surged through him. His uncle had a way of complicating things, and the last thing he wanted was for Y/n to get caught up in the dangerous world he was part of. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t even know the half of it.

Y/n noticed the shift in his demeanor. “Everything okay?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Toji quickly pocketed his phone, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he lied. “Just Gojo being an idiot as usual.” He chuckled, trying to brush it off.

But Y/n wasn’t so easily fooled. She tilted her head, studying him like she always did when something felt off. “You sure? You just tensed up like you’re about to fight someone.”

Toji grinned, trying to play it cool. “I’m always ready to fight someone,” he joked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to distract her. “But seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s just some car stuff.”

She gave him a skeptical look but decided not to push further, resting her head on his chest. Toji took a deep breath, trying to focus on the moment instead of the chaos that always seemed to lurk around the corner. But the truth weighed heavy on him—his uncle’s interest in Y/n was a threat he couldn’t ignore.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, Toji silenced it without looking. Right now, his priority was Y/n. Keeping her out of the mess he was in had to be his focus, even if it meant lying to her, pushing her away, or hiding parts of his life. But how long could he keep up the charade?

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice broke through his thoughts. “If there’s ever anything you need to tell me, you know you can, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

Toji felt a pang of guilt but covered it with another charming smile. “I know, Y/n. Trust me, I’ll keep you in the loop.”

He didn’t know how long he could keep that promise.

Toji released yn to head downstairs saying "I'll be back shortly, gotta go downstairs. Satoru and i need to sort something out real quick. With that said, he went downstairs.

Toji leaned against Gojo’s car, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared off into the distance, still trying to shake off the tense feeling from earlier. Gojo handed him his own keys back, glancing at him with an unspoken question in his eyes. "Naobito really got his eye on you, huh?"

Toji grunted, avoiding the topic. "Always. But I got it handled." He wasn’t about to let Gojo see how deep the stress went. The last thing he needed was for Y/n to get caught up in that.

Just then, Mei Mei and Shoko pulled up, both stepping out of the car like they owned the world. Mei Mei, with her usual confident smirk, noticed Toji first and immediately burst into laughter. "Well, well, well. Toji Zenin at Y/n’s place. And here I thought she kept her life private," she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Toji didn't acknowledge her comment, his focus still on the ground as he exchanged his car keys with Gojo. Gojo, however, couldn't resist groaning as Mei Mei’s sharp eyes fell on him next. She winked playfully. "And look who it is. Gojo Satoru, always lingering around. You know, Gojo, maybe one day—"

"Mei Mei, please. Stop," Gojo cut her off with a groan, already anticipating where she was going with this.

She raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained. "Hmmm, how about…?" she trailed off, leaning closer as if she had another snarky comment ready to drop.

Gojo threw his hands up, stopping her in her tracks. "No more talks about my dad, Mei Mei. Seriously."

Mei Mei laughed, shaking her head, clearly enjoying Gojo's discomfort. "Relax, Satoru. I’m just messing with you."

With that, she and Shoko strolled toward the building, leaving Gojo shaking his head in disbelief. Toji, still leaning against his car, finally spoke up, his voice low. "She’s gonna cause you trouble one of these days."

Gojo smirked, running a hand through his hair. "She already does, but hey, keeps life interesting."

As the two stood there in silence for a moment, Gojo studied Toji carefully, noticing the tension still present in his body. "You sure about Y/n, man? I mean… all this stuff with your uncle. She's bound to get caught up in it eventually."

Toji’s jaw clenched at Gojo’s words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed off from the car and handed Gojo his keys. "I’ll handle it. Just keep her out of anything she doesn’t need to know."

Gojo shrugged. "Alright, man. Just don’t let it blow up in your face."

As Toji turned to head back toward Y/n’s apartment, he spotted Mei Mei and Shoko talking and laughing outside her door. He sighed. Great, more people knowing where she lives.

Before heading back up, Toji glanced at Gojo. "Watch my back with Uncle. And if he asks—"

"Yeah, yeah," Gojo interrupted, waving him off. "I'll cover for you. Just try not to make it worse."

Toji grunted in acknowledgment, then started making his way back inside, bracing himself for whatever trouble Mei Mei might stir up next. All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about how complicated things were getting with Y/n—and how much he needed to protect her, even if it meant keeping her in the dark.

Gojo casually reached into Toji's glove compartment, pulling out a small baggie filled with neatly rolled joints. "C'mon, smoke one with me," he said, twirling a joint between his fingers as he smirked. "Because," he nodded toward the apartment complex with a grin, "Y/n’s gonna be busy with Shoko and Ms. Eat-A-Man’s Money up there."

Toji exhaled through his nose, his irritation palpable, but he accepted the joint from Gojo. Leaning against the car, he lit it up and took a long drag, trying to shake off the stress of the night. As the smoke filled his lungs, his mind momentarily calmed, though he knew it wouldn’t last.

"You know," Gojo began, lighting up his own joint, "you’re walking a thin line here. Y/n’s got no idea who you really are, what you’re tied to. And your uncle…" Gojo trailed off, side-eyeing Toji, "he’s gonna find a way to drag her into it."

Toji flicked the ash off his joint, his eyes narrowing. "She won’t be dragged into anything. Not if I can help it."

Gojo chuckled darkly, taking a puff. "Toji, you can’t control everything. And Y/n… she’s not stupid. She’s already asking questions."

Toji clenched his jaw but didn’t respond immediately, staring off into the distance, smoke swirling around him. He thought of Y/n upstairs, probably laughing with Shoko and Mei Mei, blissfully unaware of the world he was tangled in. The lies, the danger—all of it was piling up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her shielded from the truth.

"I'll figure it out," Toji finally said, his voice low, almost to himself.

Gojo shrugged, taking another hit. "If you say so, man. Just don’t let it all blow up in your face when the truth comes knocking." He blew out a thick cloud of smoke, letting the silence settle between them as they passed the joint back and forth.

Upstairs, they could hear faint laughter, likely Y/n and the girls. Gojo smirked, shaking his head. "She’s already neck-deep in this, and she doesn’t even know it. That’s the dangerous part."

Toji clenched his teeth. It was true. Y/n was becoming more important to him than he’d planned, and with his uncle breathing down his neck, the walls were closing in faster than he could maneuver around them.

“I can handle my uncle,” Toji muttered, but the doubt was creeping in, and he hated it.

Gojo raised a brow, his lips curling into a lazy smile. "Sure you can. But what happens when Y/n’s the one standing in his crosshairs? You ready for that?"

Toji didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took another deep drag from the joint, letting the smoke burn away the unease in his chest, if only for a moment. His thoughts swirled with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, but the one thing he couldn’t deny was that he wasn’t about to let anyone—especially his uncle—hurt Y/n.

"That’s not gonna happen," he finally said, his voice gruff. "I’ll keep her out of it."

Gojo didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. "We’ll see, Zenin. We’ll see."

As they smoked in silence, the weight of their words lingered in the air, along with the very real possibility that things were about to spiral out of control.

Toji felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and as he pulled it out, he noticed a message from Shui Kong, his long-time best friend who was rarely in the country.

Shui Kong: Yo, where you at? Got some news to fill you in on. It’s important.

Toji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he read the text. Just what he needed—more complications. He looked over at Gojo, who leaned in closer, squinting at the screen as if he could decipher the entire conversation just by reading the text.

"What's up? Is it about Y/n?" Gojo asked, his tone casual, but Toji could hear the underlying curiosity in his voice.

Toji shook his head, dismissing the question. "Nah, it's Shui. He’s back in town, and he says he has news."

Gojo smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You know that never bodes well, right? What if he’s bringing back more trouble? You already have enough on your plate."

"Yeah, well, I can’t exactly ignore him. We’ve been through too much together," Toji replied, feeling the weight of his friend’s sudden return looming over him. There was a lot of unfinished business between them, especially after everything that had gone down before Shui left.

Gojo leaned back against the car, arms crossed, his expression turning serious. "Just be careful. You know how things get when he’s around. And if it has anything to do with your family or that mafia mess…" he trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air.

Toji bit his lip, torn between wanting to answer Shui and not wanting to draw more trouble into his already chaotic life. After a moment, he decided to reply.

Toji: I’m at the shop. What’s the news?

He pressed send and glanced back at Gojo, who was still watching him with an amused expression. "You think he’ll drop another bomb on you? Maybe tell you he’s running for president or something?"

Toji rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the anxious feeling in his gut. "I just want to get through this night without any more surprises."

Before Gojo could respond, Toji's phone buzzed again with a reply from Shui.

Shui Kong: I’m coming by. Got some intel on your uncle and the Zenin business. You’ll want to hear this.

Toji’s heart sank. He exchanged a worried glance with Gojo, who raised an eyebrow, clearly reading between the lines. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Guess we’ll find out," Toji muttered, a sense of dread settling in. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever news Shui had would change everything.

Just as he was about to respond, Gojo's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his brow furrowing. "It’s Y/n. She wants to know if you’re okay. Seems like she's worried."

Toji felt a warmth spread in his chest at her concern but quickly masked it with indifference. "Just tell her I’m fine. I’ll talk to her later."

Gojo shrugged, smirking again. "You know, you could be a little more honest with her. Maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to check up on you if you didn’t have that whole mysterious bad boy vibe going on."

Toji shot him a glare. "Shut up, Gojo."

But inside, the comment lingered. Maybe he was playing too many cards close to his chest, especially with Y/n. As he thought about her, another text from Shui came in.

Shui Kong: People are starting to talk about you and Y/n, you better tread carefully, my friend.

Toji's fingers tightened around his phone, annoyance flashing across his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

Gojo chuckled, already guessing the answer. "Looks like you’re not the only one who sees how deep you’re in with her. Just don’t get her caught up in your family drama."

Toji opened his mouth to retort but decided against it. Instead, he glanced back at the apartment, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/n and how far he was willing to go to keep her safe. The storm brewing on the horizon felt closer than ever, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

"Let’s just get through tonight," he said finally, his resolve hardening. "Then we’ll figure out what to do next."

Toji took another pull from the joint trying to clear his head. He knew lying to yn would only bite him in the ass later but he would deal with that when it comes. hopefully it doesn't cause him to lose her.

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair as he said, "Lemme go tell Y/n I gotta go." He turned to head back upstairs, but Gojo, ever the shadow, locked his car and walked behind him.

"Where are you going?" Toji asked, exasperated.

"Obviously, I'm not gonna miss you acting unusual in front of Y/n. I need proof for the group chat, you know this," Gojo shot back, a smirk on his face.

Toji scoffed but didn't argue. He marched back to Y/n's apartment, Gojo trailing behind him, probably buzzing with the prospect of a good story.

When he knocked on the door, he heard Shoko shout from the other side, "It's open!"

Toji pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to be greeted by a scene he hadn’t expected. The room was filled with a haze of smoke, and he could see Shoko and Mei Mei lounging on the couch, a blunt circulating between them. Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, her back to him, laughing at something they were saying.

Toji's eyes widened as he took in Y/n’s outfit—a pair of burnt orange silk shorts and a cropped shirt of the same color, accentuating her figure perfectly. Her ombre-dyed faux locs were styled in double puffs, giving her an effortlessly chic look that made his heart race.

Gojo’s eyes darted between Toji’s expression and the scene unfolding in front of him, silently judging the sudden shift in energy.

Mei Mei was the first to speak, a playful glint in her eye. "Told you he'd come back upstairs, Y/n."

Toji’s gaze landed squarely on Y/n, trying to control the feral reaction that threatened to bubble to the surface. The sight of her looking so carefree, so vibrant, ignited a possessiveness in him that he struggled to suppress. He had never seen her like this, so relaxed and unguarded, and it stirred something deep inside him.

"Hey, Toji!" Y/n turned to him, her smile brightening the room. But her cheerful demeanor only made his internal conflict stronger. "What’s up?"

"Uh, I just came to say I have to head out for a bit," Toji managed to reply, his voice sounding rougher than he intended. He couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to pull her close and protect her from whatever chaos lay ahead.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued.

"Just...some business. I'll be back later," he said, keeping his tone casual, though he could feel the tension building.

Shoko exchanged a glance with Mei Mei, then chimed in, "You know, Y/n, we were just discussing how you should join us for a little relaxation session. What do you say? A girls’ night with a side of Toji drama?"

Toji shot a glance at Gojo, who looked ready to burst from holding in laughter. "Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now," he said, his voice low, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite the storm brewing inside him.

Y/n’s brow furrowed slightly, sensing his unease. "What do you mean? You’re not coming back for the fun?"

"Just… got stuff to handle, you know?" Toji said, brushing it off. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret at the thought of leaving her in the midst of this laid-back gathering.

Mei Mei leaned forward, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Come on, Toji. Live a little. You’re always so serious. Maybe just this once, you could join us."

"Yeah, let loose for once, Zenin," Gojo added, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "You might actually enjoy it."

Toji clenched his jaw, the weight of their words pressing down on him. He was torn between the temptation to stay and the urgency of the situation that awaited him outside.

Y/n looked up at him, her expression softening. "You can hang out for a bit, right? Just until things settle down?"

Toji's resolve wavered. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment with her, but he could feel the pressures of his life creeping in, threatening to overshadow the blissful time they could share.

With a reluctant sigh, he finally relented. "Alright, just for a little while."

As he settled down on the floor next to Y/n, he felt the tension ease slightly, even if it was only temporary. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t just a fun night with friends; it was a delicate balancing act that could tip at any moment. And he had to be ready for whatever was coming next.

Previous Next

[cherryclitgirl]

The Gods IV

Pairings: Maegor x reader

Author’s note: Hey guys sorry for not updating, I’m working on this one and the Song of fire. Sorry but I had to restart because the app updated while I was typing and erased the work and I’m currently studying for my midterms. Anyway I hope you all have a good Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa! (and I’ll be updating soon, if you have any suggestions or request feel free to tell me:)

Summery: After the death of her son and Ceryse, the queen’s eye’s began to open to the dangers of the world. She recognizes the danger of being married to Maegor, and that as queen she must do what it necessary for the protection of her children,causing her to distrust the people she once called family. Maegor has too come to bone chilling realization that the young girl he tormented is old enough to betray him at any given moment.

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“Fueled the terror of becoming prey, see quickly we become predators.” - Dr. Volumnia Gaul

There had been a shift after the death of Queen Ceryse Hightower. The court filled the halls of the Red keep with tales about her demise. Many gossiped over her sudden death stating it had been planned. While others argued that the queen had been in poor health for long and she had finally succumbed to the Stranger whilst she slept . Even after her cold body was found by her handmaiden neither Maegor nor Tyanna visited her. The only who had seemed to act had been queen y/n, briefly ordering for the silent sisters to prepare the body. There was no ceremony in her honor, no discussion or public announcement. Her body was ordered to be returned back to Oldtown without further questioning.Soon there was not single trace that remained of Queen Ceryse Hightower.

The council meeting concluded as it would have any other day. It had been quiet and the lords kept their eyes on Maegor and the two queens. Not a brief mention of Ceryse was uttered throughout the entire meeting, leaving no room for future attempts of discussions. Maegor stayed back as everyone began to leave the room, everyone left except for y/n. She turned to look back at Maegor who sat on his chair his expression pensive but resilient.

His eyes did not move from her, he was glad she had stayed. He didn’t hesitate to hold her hand as soon as she was in front of him “I did waver… when I had to marry her” he spoke his voice cold and low “But no with you” he said his large fingers intertwining with hers.

“I do not wish to hear of it ” she spoke softly slightly leaning down . Maegor had not hesitated to take his niece as his wife after he took the throne. Not because she was another thing he had earned, but because she was just like him. He saw it, when she was still a child. When he was still her father’s hand. Her claws digging deep into face of a noble after he made a remark about her sister. Her nails so deep , his face had begun to bleed. It had been the mentioned of her sister that had always triggered something in her. The order she gave to have Lord Alton’s head removed. Now the death of Ceryse. He was no fool he had been in the same room when it happened. Hiding in the walls after Tyanna told him Ceryse she called for y/n.

She was just like him, violent underneath her act of rightouness . Her true colors were beginning to show, if she wished for it she could’ve betrayed him. Yet she didn’t. He was thankful for that. He didn’t trust Tyanna, he had seen Tyanna’s true behavior. When it came to worrying, his mind never directed itself to Tyanna.

“Lord Tymond rides for Kings landing, you summoned him?” He asked his fingers beginning to caress her hand. “I ordered it” she said resting her forehead against his. Maegor closed his eyes letting out an exhausted sigh, he was frustrated with the current events of the kingdoms. The faith militant was dying down, no longer were they allowed to carry weapons. But there was more to do, so much more. “We also need a new master of laws “ her murmured his eyes closing for a moment.

“I’m sure any Lord will be please to take that place” she said her forehead still resting against his. “Would you?” He asked his eyes opening to meet hers.

“Why on Earth would I do that” she scoffed softly pulling her head away his. She leaned back against the table her fingers still intertwined with his. “You’ve used your power to punish Lord Alton, you have been a good advisor, you’ve earned your seat” he told there.

She didn’t regret her decision Lord Alton was to die sooner or later. However it had been the first time she used her power as queen if she became mistress of laws there was no telling what she would do. “Do you know why I took the throne?” Maegor asked his young wife. He felt her body tense beneath her touch, it was sore topic for her. He had killed her two brothers, usurped the throne and forced her to marry him. “You sought power “ she replied.

Maegor rose from his seat and leaned closer to her. His large frame towering over her body “I sought greatness. ” he corrected her “The realm was weak. You know it. They all did” he hissed his hands slowly reaching for her neck. “I did not hesitate to spill blood to create stability“. His hand wrapped around her neck with a gentle grip he was not trying to hurt her, his thumb gently caressed her skin “It was necessary “ there was no remorse in his voice just empty words.

His eyes were focused on hers. Her big beautiful purple eyes. They were filled with many emotions, sadness, anger and bitterness. “Even Viserys?” She asked him.

“Even Viserys” he replied. “Your mother’s defiance could not go unpunished” No matter what he said the murder of her young brother was not justified even if his hand was on her neck, even if she was at his mercy. She tried to move away but the once gentle grip on her neck suddenly tightened.

His expression had not darken nor changed but his grip had “Your father was weak, your brother would was to ” he spoke his harsh yet his expression was still unreadable “My father did not conquer the seven kingdoms just for power…He created justice and stability “ His grip was not meant to hurt her but it could. “You are no fool y/n” he spoke firmly “yet you choose to be”

“You have the will and the ability to make decisions and you’ve showed it” he spoke his voice filled with venom “Sooner or later Jaehaerys will want the iron throne and to secure his claim he will put our children to the sword”He hissed at the girl.

She was well aware if Maegor were to die, her brother would want to reclaim the throne. The lives of her children would be at stake, there would be no one on her side to protect her. If Maegor was gone any protection he gave her would follow . “You prepare our son to rule …or you cling to Jaehaerys for mercy” he spoke his hand letting go of her neck. Queen y/n eyes began to sparkle , but tears did not fall from her eyes. For she knew the cold truth…Maegor was right.

“Will you stand by me when the time comes?” He asked the girl “Or will you cower away like your mother and father”. Both of his hands found their way to her cheeks. She looked into his eyes, She had begged for mercy when her child was murdered, and she would be damned if she pleaded once more. “I will” she said softly.

Maegor hummed and placed a kiss on her lips “Good” her murmured against his soft lips. He pulled away and stared at her for a moment admiring her beauty. As long as he had her by his side there was nothing to worry about, after all they shared more things in common than she realized.

Maegor left her to ponder, she began to realize that she had to ensure not only the protection of her children but her own. She was the queen, the power she had was enough to maintain stability in her own right. But it was not enough to prevent Jaehaerys from putting her children to the blade. He was her young brother, still a child but he was actively hiding. Along with her mother, her brother was surrounded with those that opposed Maegor. Those who would not hesitate to kill her children— to kill her. She would not succumb to that faith, not after what she had endured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Where is Aella?” Baelon asked his mother as he waltzed into the room his eye landing on Rhaenor. He was very fond of his younger sister Rhaella, he was fond of both of his siblings and the three had a close bond as they were close in age . Y/n often wondered if Baelon had forgotten about Aegon. He was practically a babe when it happened, part of her was relieved that Baelon did not have such horrible memory. “Abandoned your custom already, sweet boy?” His mother smile pausing her embroidery.

Baelon grinned making his way to his mother “Grand maester Benifer allowed me to leave early” he spoke looking for something in his pocket. He took out a small scroll and held up to his mother “He said it’s from Lord Tymond”. Y/n did not recognize the wax stamping on the scroll, but she did recognize that it must be important. Grand maester Benifer always personally delivered news and letters . “I’ll see to it later “ she smile discreetly taking away the scroll.

Baelon happily ran to play with his brother while his mother remained seated. Often she felt as if she were being watched. She looked at the balcony and pondered about stepping out to read the letter. But she would not risk the danger of stepping out in opened. Instead she continued embroidering moons and starts on her daughter’s new dress.

Grand Maester Benifer was concentrated writing on his book. His study smelled of natural herbs mixed with the odor of his experiments. There were large piles of parchments and medical equipment cluttering his room. His head perked up as he heard the door opened. Her grace queen y/n stood holding the small parchment on her hand. It was still unopened and he was almost aware of the reason of her visit.

“Would her grace like to sit down?” He asked gesturing a sofa in his study. She shook her head and walked to his desk her hand clutching the unopened scroll. “Care to explain?” She asked unamused.

Maester Benifer gave her a weak smile exhaling as he began to speak “My apologies your grace, it would’ve have been risky if I had delivered it personally “ he explained “For the contents of the letter come from across the narrow sea”.

Her eyes fell on the small scroll she was well aware of a certain someone who resided across the narrow sea. Someone she had not seen in years “Are you sure?” She asked slowly almost afraid of having misheard.

“A maid from Dragonstone received it…there are those who still are loyal to your mother and brother” He told her hoping the love for her family had not disappeared.

“ Traitors of crown” she spoke to herself as she began to open the seal. She her hands were trembling slightly as she began to unroll the small scroll. Her stomach began to fill with both excitement and fear “It’s from Rhaena” she whispered. She tried to hide a smile but it soon betrayed her as she began to read.

“ y/n… there are many things I wish to say, and not enough room for the amount of words I wish to write . I pray for you to forgive me. I abandoned you on that wretched day, it was not in my best judgment to leave you. I did only what a mother thought was needed. I took my daughters and sought refuge away from Maegor. By doing so I abandoned you, it is something I carry with me all these years…. I pray you read letter and the rest that follow ”

She had stopped reading the letter even before the grand maester spoke. She did not blame her sister for leaving, she had forgiven long before she send the letter. Her sister was protecting her daughters, and y/n would’ve have done the same But writing back to Rhaena would be foolish, anyone who was not currently in the realm acknowledging Maegor as king was enemy of the crown. She would not put her and children at risk by going against Maegor. She simply swallowed the emotion that had build up on her throat and crumbled the scroll.

“Your grace?” The grand maester asked confused as he watched her toss the letter into the fireplace. “Might I ask..are you not pleased with the words of your sister?” He asked the queen.

Y/n shook her head as she watched the paper burn into ashes “I am grand maester, but if that letter were to get in the wrong hands”she said pausing as her hands fiddled with her necklace. Already picturing Maegor’s grip “Our heads would on spikes “ she warned him . The grand maester dropped his gaze, he had been guilty of many crimes. He gave the queen the moon tea, he had searched for allies that were loyal to Jaehaerys. He had given her that letter. “Our sins will haunt us” he whispered.

There were not sins in the eyes of y/n. She had refused to acknowledge her actions as immoral. For all she knew she had no plans, no motive to act against her family. But that was before Maegor warned her. She was allowed to mistrust her brother and he probably shared the same feeling. It was had seen years since she saw him last, he was child when she left and now nearly a man grown. Yet part of her was filled with a feeling that suppressed any other. The motherly rage that grew inside her. It made her distrust everyone, even Rhaena. She would do her duty as queen and ensure Baelon sat on the iron throne. She would put traitors to the sword the way her child was. Morals were set by knights and honorable people. But she was neither a knight nor honorable.

“If any letters arrive, see that they’re delivered to my chambers by Kiara” Y/n said heading to the door. The grand maester nodded unsure if he should speak. He had many regrets but his deepest regret would always be failing to advise his queen before Maegor corrupted her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Across the narrow sea in the far end of the city of Volantis stood a large house. With large towers and high windows and Ionic columns that held it up. Its white lime stone walls guarding its owners. The night was quiet and peaceful, the only sound came from the fountain in the gardens. In one of the rooms paced a white haired woman, her simple blue dress trailing behind her. She looked at the parchment on her hand, tears swelling in her eyes she clenched it tightly. It would take days before her message arrived. It was not the first nor the last.

However no matter how many letters she sent none were answered. She could only cry and pray for a word back. Anything would sooth her heart. The guilt of knowing she fled with her daughters and left her sister behind ate alive every day. She would picture her face when she left, and cried herself to sleep. Oh her poor sister. She wished back in the Redkeep. Sharing a bedroom with sister, sneaking out down to the kitchens for cakes. Riding their dragons all over the Crownlands. She even missed when her sister dragged out to the rain. She was far away from her sister, far away from her best friend.

She had gotten the courage to finally write to her mother, she tested her luck and wrote to her sister. She knew the message was send discretely and her sister would face no trouble receiving it. Still she worried, would her sister resent her for abandoning her?

- - - - - - - - - - - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- -

The role of mistress of laws was not a task given to anyone. Many lords who spend years around the politics of the realm constantly battled for the position. The last master of laws had been established when her father was still king, he kept records of all sorts. Books and parchments that granted her knowledge of what she needed to know. Still she was not sure why Maegor had appointed her.

“Countless shelves filled with the knowledge of men” A voice spoke. Y/n looked up to see Tyanna standing by the door looking into the small study “Mayhaps the knowledge you accumulate will help Maegor keep some stability “ she said in a slight confident tone.

“Mayhaps” y/n said returning her gaze to a scroll dated during her grandsire’s reign.

“It seems like an eternity ago Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms and created his small council-“ Tyanna began but quickly stopped as she noticed y/n’s bored look. “Have you heard the story one too many times?” She smirked

“He told me the story” she corrected her, she seen the great conqueror alive. He was her grandsire, she once sat on his lap while he sat the iron throne. “I am not lost with the story, I have memorized it whole” she muttered.

“Then you understand the significance of this position? “ Tyanna raised an eyebrow “you understand there is more to the realm. The realm is difficult and to truly know it…..it’s to truly experience it.”

Y/n looked up to Tyanna for a moment watching her careful she stood carefree by the door “You speak to me as if I am new to Westeros and its laws…… I am not…you are” she cringed

Tyanna’s expression faltered for a moment but quickly smile as she left the comfort of the door “I came into this strange country as nothing but a mistress, soon a wife and now a queen, the quick change did not bestowed me with sudden knowledge “ she spoke her smile vanishing once she was close enough to y/n. The only barrier between them being a wooden desk and a silent hatred for one another.

“ Knowledge?” She asked Tynna her cold gaze meeting hers “One can read many books, listen to many lectures but one cannot fully grasp the harsh reality…Power is what keeps the realm from tearing itself. Had Aegon not conquered the kingdoms men would’ve waged war with one another. “ she told the pentosi woman.

“What is your purpose? By all right the Iron throne is yours and your sister’s…yet you’ve served Maegor and soon your son…I doubt you will have much power” Tynna spoke her fingers pressed against the desk.

“Power resides where men believe it resides”. The young queen told Tyanna. “If I have enough power..then power will be power.” Tyanna hummed and looked at the girl her expression slightly changed “How will you use that power exactly?” Tyanna questioned “Kill all those who deny the throne to your son? Avenge the death of Aegon? Or will you see this country burn for your own pleasure?”

Queen y/n simply shrugged at the her questions “Any mother would see the world burn for her children “

Tyanna scoffed slightly “What stops you from seeking revenge, ending your brother to secure Baelon’s place on the throne”

Tyanna never failed to irritate her and her constant bothering deeply annoyed her “I would be a fool to kill an innocent, but I would be a fool if I didn’t secure my son’s claim”

“Ceryse is gone, we have a mutual goal and mutuals must work together “ Tyanna proposed

“I would also be foolish to trust you” she replied her response as cold as her gaze. Tyanna sneered at her comment but deep down she knew the girl had the right to distrust her. “We kept our distance you and I” Tyanna noted as she moved away from the desk “If there was a need for us to stand together as the storm approaches…it would be now” Tyanna left but her presence still lingered

Y/n knew the conversation would be resurface again, she was no fool when it came to playing Tyanna’s games But for now she would be playing alone, as queen y/n had notice both Tyanna and Maegor were cautious and paranoid. Silently worrying and insinuating something she could not yet realize. Both of them had been correct in their statements, the throne was hers by right, and to become king Jaehaerys would have to but get rid of any active threats. She had no desire for the throne however she knew the realm needed a good monarch. She had three children and despite Baelon being the oldest, the three of them would be shaped into the crown. She would have her son on the iron throne, she would protect her children no matter the cost.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Queen y/n stopped reading letter before she tearing up the parchment. It was the fourteenth letter her sister had sent. All the same, all expressed their regrets over the last years. She would be lying if she said the first letter made her happy. Each letter had been thrown into the fire moments after reading them. Her heart was not cold, or broken. It was busy. She stood up from her seat and threw the letter into the fireplace. After the death of Ceryse there had been an obvious shift her attitude towards those around her. She had appointed new council members and even punished certain members of the court. Her visits to the small council were frequent and she became an ambitious member. She worked in the shadows- as some would call it scraping for power and clinging to whatever was beneficial.

—————————————————————————

“A marriage between Prince Rhaenor and my youngest granddaughter would strengthen the bond between both houses “ Lord Daemon suggested. The topic of marriage was not always discussed during the council meetings. Today was among the rare occasions where the topic was debated. “The queen is not only my niece but a daughter to me, having her son marry into my family would follow our traditions “ his pathetic attempts did not surprised the council. Y/n ignored her uncle, he never spoke to her and if he did it was to gain favor.

“We should consider foreign strength “ Tyanna said. “I believe marrying into a powerful family from the one of the free cities will send a good message “ she said eyeing Maegor.

“Are you suggesting Pentos?” Questioned y/n. She was leaned back on the chair her body physically in the meeting but her mind somewhere else. She had already opposed the betrothal between Aella and Baelon. Tyanna by no means came from a wealthy family, y/n never even bother to learn the story of how she met Maegor. She knew nothing about the woman and it only added to the hatred and suspicion that already lingered. If Tyanna suggested Rhaenor should be betrothed to a family from Pentos then Tyanna would choose her own kin.

“Over the past year and a half …much has happened “ Tyanna said “and…over the past months I have grown fond of the children..I might not be their mother but I wish to give when what is best “ she said calmly her eyes looking around the rest of the members. She sought their favor and Maegor was no fool at detecting it. Tyanna held no lover for any of his children but he kept quiet and simply watched as the situation unfolded. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek. Her children were hers and hers only and Tyanna had tried to kill them, now she wished to take her son Rhaenor, the only one that still looked like Aegon. Tynna had her gaze on everyone but y/n , she was well aware of her actions and she knew it infuriated Queen y/n…but she held to remorse.

Before: No matter how often she paced around with Rhaenor he simply cried even more. He would cry in her arms , the arms of the wet nurse, and in the arms of the maids. She was running out solutions and was scared her son cry for all day. She did not have a clue what it took to be a mother, she believed she would’ve already learned as this was her third child yet it was more difficult. Rhaenor was fussy and disliked many things unlike Aegon and Baelon who were often calm. Her soothing did not seem to calm him, the fact that she was pregnant yet again only filled her with overwhelming dread.

When Rhaenor was barely four moons old Maegor threw a large feast for her seventeen name day. The day was neither joyous nor pleasant for her. She simply remained seated at the royal table while she watched nobles drink and dance in her honor. They seem to enjoy the day more than she did, she did not care if they toasted her name and thanked the old gods and the new for granting king with three healthy male babes. She knew how the celebration would end.

Without fail Maegor took her to his chambers, he did want he could and what he wanted. She was still as he worked on top of her. His massive body fully covering her as he pleased himself. She never enjoyed it and it never brought her any pleasure. She felt dead while he felt alive.

Soon the poor girl became pregnant with yet another child.There she stood comforting her son while she had a small growing bump beneath her gown. She swallowed the knot on her throat , there were times where she wished to be back in the arms of her mother. But the feeling would vanish when she saw her children, she now the mother and her children needed their mother just as much as she needed hers.

“Having Pentos, one of the richest cities as allies…would send a message to a certain resident in Volantis” Tyanna spoke finally gazing at y/n. “I have chosen the family, one that is both beneficial and trusting” she finished.

Maegor exhaled rubbing his temple, the constant growing headaches plague his body. He felt his body beginning to feeble at times. The crown had enemies and as long as they lived the headaches will remain. He couldn’t care less about marriage proposals but he did found Tyanna attempts interesting as he could tell his wife was not pleased.

“The king and I will discuss it” Queen y/n spoke firmly but calming. She stopped leaning against the chair at once when Volantis was named and had visibly irritated expression .

“The queen is right” Daemon Velaryon spoke out “Let us not rush into marriages…the children are young and there is enough time ahead”. He spoke against Tyanna once his plans were made to compete with hers.

“Let us be finish then” Y/n said raising up from her seat, the rest of the lords followed each of them ready to leave the small council when Tyanna spoke “We are two queens” she declared her voice sending the lords back into their seats. Queen y/n was the only who still stood not interested in Tyanna’s words“Under one house..just like Aegon the conqueror and his two queens .”

Maegor watched his favorite wife who once was too frighten to look at him, stand against his other wife. He was fully aware that she had been young and he doubted if she would become a dutiful wife but as the years went by she was now a woman grown of twenty, advising the council and him. It made him realize she could handle the proposals, a high contrast to when she first joined the small council, were she would quietly sit and listen. “Targaryen Queens under the Targaryen house” Y/n replied reminding Tyanna she was neither high born nor Targaryen but simply Tyanna from Pentos. She turn her attention to Maegor who was trying to sooth his headache while paying attention to the banter .

“You must rest now, husband “ Queen y/n told Maegor as she moved to his side completely disregarding Tyanna’s words. The council members left the room leaving Tyanna alone, for the past half year she felt her power slipping away. Although the court did not deny her the tittle of Queen, it was y/n who they considered the true wife of Maegor. They were both from old Valyria and had been married under the faith of the seven with approval of the high septon, she had given him Targaryen children and was influential with both the common folk and the nobles. What she felt were the same feelings Ceryse once did . She held no true power except for being the mistress of whispers but even that seemed to vanish.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You are no fool, husband “ Y/n spoke her arm wrapped around Maegor’s as they walked side my side back to his chamber. Each noble passing near by bowed their heads respectfully, it was a rare sight to see couple together and it only fueled to their support for the Queen. “You see right through her yet you refuse to speak against her ridiculous proposals! ” She scoffed softly. “She is desperate” she said looking at her husband.

Maegor’s head pounded with a throbbing pain he was in no mood to discuss with his wife about marriages “What would have me do?” He asked pausing his steps. He would let her to decide the faith of the proposal, one which he truly did not care for.

She looked at him and shook her head “To not marry my son off to one of her — courtesans” she said bluntly. She never bit her tongue in matters that included her children. Maegor only sighed as they continued walking, he never saw Tyanna as wife. She was tavern dancer that learned the secrets of many wealthy individuals and he was in need of someone with that availability . He was fully aware of her ambition, she never made an effort to hide it from him. She had failed to do many things such as giving a child and she lacked y/n’s dutiful nature. He could agree with his wife that Tyanna’s choice was not the best.

He could not deny that his niece was a dutiful wife. She cared for both him and her children. In his mind that made her vulnerable, yet when their son was murdered she sought sanctuary in him. She had searched for him and only him.

Though Maegor had a different perspective on how his young wife viewed him. He lacked the ability to distinguish her love and duty. For she loved her husband and cared for him. But she was not in love with him.

————————————————————————

“I do not milk of the poppy” He said firmly. He laid on the bed his head on her lap as she sooth his headache. The night was dark and the castle walls trapped the cold air. The soft candle light barely illuminated the room creating comfort for the two of them. He had summoned her to his chambers not for pleasure but for company.

“I was told I would never have children” Maegor told her, his eyes focused on the ceiling above him “That was I damned with a rotten seed…”. He closed his eyes picturing the day the high septon dammed him for marrying Alys. He kept the fear of never having an heir buried deep in his heart. “I no longer believe that ” he spoke his eyes returning to the ceiling.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. The only noise being the cracking of the fire burning into the wood logs and the soft whispers of the wind.

“I dreamt once “ Y/n spoke softly She dreamt, a lot and as she grew older the dreams became clear and frequent but not clear enough to warn her about her future. The first dream she ever experienced happened long before her father became king. The wolf man, she called it. The body of a man but the head of wolf. Her sister Rhaena had been disturbed when she walked into her sister day dreaming, her eyes simply staring at the wall. Her second dream was the dream of the man with a golden hand cursed to love his match, that dream had been short but clear and would come soon, but not during her time.

“Of four dragon eggs and their mother…the loss of one fueled a fire within her…… so strong the three remaining eggs hatched…but it was in her story to live in sorrow …until only a single one remained “. Her soft fingers gently massaging the side of his head providing him with comfort.

“Our children?” Maegor asked his wife. The dream followed the order of their children… four babes and their mother and only three remained. He did not wish for the dream to become reality.

She shook her head “No” she spoke softly “It’s all a story” her voice creating calmness in the room “And you’re but one part in it”. His wife’s words send an uncomfortable feeling down his neck and body. Although he was glad her dream did not apply to their children, he did find her ability induring and chilling.

She had lived in misery for years in his grasp. He often wondered how she found a new strength after the death of their son. Her growth was no longer a duty but a need. She had her own ambition , she would put her son on the iron throne not because it was his birthright but she wanted it. To him her motives were clear, she would soon rather burn House Targaryen than have her children slaughtered by her brother. She would take the throne even if she had to spill her own blood. She would decide who sat on it and it would not be her brother.. the history books will always remember her. Her tragic life abandoned and doomed by the gods .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - -- - - -

She stood overlooking the training yard watching Baelon train. He was seven summers old almost eight and had begun his sword training. He sparred against young squires and sometimes Maegor would personally instruct him. His resemble to his brother Aegon had faded. He has his own looks that imitated his father’s. Had Aegon lived past the age of four mayhaps he too would’ve look like Maegor.

“You still mourn Aegon” Tyanna’s voice spoke as she stood next to y/n. It has been nearly four year since the death of Aegon and even when the days passed and the new season began to emerge ,she still dreamt of her son. He wondered if Bealon remembered his brother or if he simply believed it had all been a dream. However she never failed to talk about her son , afraid her children will grow thinking he never existed.

“It’s a condition of motherhood” y/n replied her eyes not moving away from Baelon. She loved her children dearly and no one denied it. Unfortunately for the past year and so she had began to show her true colors at court, she was the queen consort, what little power she had she made sure to use it all.

“Come the good years Baelon will become king wear his father’s crown and rule Westeros “ Tyanna said. Y/n had spend the days shaping her children to wear the crown , some would say she loved her children but her love did not stop her from using her children as pawns. “Aegon will simply be washed into the history books and be forgotten by most”

“He will be a good king” Y/n spoke “A decent king” the firmness in her voice lingering for a little longer. “Aegon’s memory will die when I die”. There was acceptance in her words ,she knew better than anyone that it was only she who kept her son’s memory alive.

“He will soon ride for the Dorne “ Tyanna said referring to Maegor who had decided his presence is needed to at marches to put an end to the dispute between the stormlands and Dorne.

Y/n hummed in response , her husband always decided his presence was needed where there was conflict “He will leave you as regent?” She asked Tyanna. Having Tyanna as regent meant what ever power y/n looked for Tyanna would have it. Maegor did not trust the Hand of the king to have him as regent. Tyanna scoffed as if y/n had insulted her “These people do not consider me their queen, even if he left me as regent there would be anything put respect “ the hostility towards her position was noticed by both Maegor and y/n.

Y/n was able to hide her smile at Tyanna’s discomfort mayhaps Maegor would leave old Lord Edwell Celtigar as his regent. It would less of a challenge for her.

“He plans to remarry” Tyanna’s voice caused her relief to vanish. She knew well that Tyanna was no content with his wishes, he plan to marry widowed woman with children. The windows of the man he killed, whose children were the future lords of their fathers land. Having them close allowed him to have control over any potential threats and traitors. She knew of his future two wives, Jeyne Westerling and Elinor Costayne women who she felt pity for but not enough to welcome them with open arms, as no women should be punished in such cruel way. Rhaena’s letter became less frequent even though she never wrote back she knew the reason why her sister no longer wrote to her…she would soon see her.

“I know” y/n replied not fazed by Tyanna’s news . She had gained what little power she currently had and she would grasp to it even if she had remove obstacles. Seeing her carefree demeanor made Tyanna realize mayhaps she too should care less. “He’ll grow into a senile man paranoid of his own shadow should you join him as well ?” Y/n faced Tyanna.

Something beneath Tyanna seemed to tingle with eagerness. She had hatred towards her and y/n felt the same way. But Tyanna could not ignore the fact that she was beautiful, she had constantly lied to herself but she knew the truth. She could plot against y/n and curse her with misfortune…and it would all be just to get her attention. She looked at her plump lips..so soft and bitable, no wonder Maegor could not keep his hands off- Tyanna thought.

“I follow our husband where ever he wishes..but not that extend “ Tyanna joked nervously. She was never the flustered type, the way y/n tilted made her eagerness throb even more. “ our? Husband? “ Y/n scoffed in disbelief. Tyanna had never shared Maegor and made it clear Maegor was only her’s. She no longer considers me competition - Y/n thought as she gave Tyanna a not so subtle eyeroll.

Tyanna swallowed and looked back the training yard. It had been so long since Maegor bedded her and the feeling of pleasure was beginning to become foreign to her, she found herself missing the nights she spend with Alys, and now she yearned for y/n’s touch. “We will soon share him with multiple women, there is no mine or yours” Tyanna said. Without a word she left y/n’s side her steps becoming quicker the further she was from her.

Puzzled y/n watched her leave. Normally Tyanna would’ve pushed her buttons with a witty comment or tried to infuriate her. But she simply left without another word, holding the skirt of her dress to walk faster.

She looked at her ring for a moment, there would be time where either Tyanna would betray her or she would betray Tyanna. There was no probability that she would ally herself with Tyanna, there could be only be one queen when Maegor died and it would be her.

There was a sudden change in the training yard as chaos erupted ,guards and squires shouted and scrambled to separate a quarrel between two people. Y/n could barely see who was fighting until she looked closer and she saw silver hair. Ser Olyver was pulling Baelon who had his hands deep into a squires face, digging into his eyes so hard blood was dripping from the squire’s face. Baelon’s grip on the poor squires was so tight Ser Olyver struggled to get him off. “SAY IT AGAIN!” Baelon shouted as was dragged away from the bleeding boy “SAY IT AGAIN!”

It took several tries but Ser Olyver finally managed to get Baelon off the squire. He pushed the prince back shoving him into the dirt. The poor squire laid on the ground bruised and bloody barely moving. A large pool of blood dripping from his eyes. The guards were unsure what to do with the squire , afraid that if they touched the body they would be punished by the king. The boy was older and taller than Baelon. A few years older than him and somehow the squire had fallen. Albeit the boy had no choice as he would serve a severe punishment if he fought back. “Gods be good” Ser Olyver gasped as he knelt down by the squire, his eyes bloody and scratched. Bealon had dug his fingers so deep into the boys the skin was peelings off. Ser Olyver could not tell if the boy was alive , the boy’s eyes they were tightly closed dripping with blood. He looked back at Baelon who was still in the ground his hands were bloody and dirty, his face filled with hatred while clutching something on his fist.

“Come on Lad” Said Ser Olyver his voice rough and stern. Ser Olyver pulled him off the ground by the back of his collar. He pushed him forward almost knocking him off his feet. No King’s guard would have the guts to treat the prince in such way, but Ser Olyver had seen Aeny’s children grow up and gained the experience of a second father…and more of grandsire to Baelon and his siblings.

When Baelon was dragged off to his mother he had a sour expression refusing to look from the ground. He was afraid to face his mother, he had never seen her angry or disappointed in his actions. He was still clutching something so he carefully hid his fist.

“See him to his chambers “ Queen y/n ordered a standing King’s guard. She was furious and frustrated and unable to stand by Baelon any longer. She made her way down the to training yard where the squire laid. She was unsure if the boy was dead, his eyes were unrecognizable making it difficult for her determine if they were even opened. She felt nauseous watching the boy twitch in pain, her stomach twisting and her throat tightening in disgust.

“Why is he still here?” She hissed at Ser Olyver “Help the boy!” She ordered a guard who without another word gestured for help.

“We thought the king might want to see the boy” Ser Olyver explained not being able to look away from the body.

“He has suffered enough” she said covering her mouth with her hand. “Who was he?” She asked her gaze following the boy as he was carried off.

“The son of a steward squiring for Ser Dylan Farman” Ser Olyver told her. The squire was a simple boy working to earn his knighthood, a something many dreamed of but not many achieved. The boys mother would see her son return a walking dead man. A blind man cursed by a spoiled prince. “No amount of gold will enough for that boys mother” y/n said solemnly.

She looked at ser Olyver for a moment, she could let the boy heal and return home to his mother, but the current state of the boy would not allow it. She considered giving the order to have the boy put out of his misery it would be a quick clean death with no struggle.

“Fetch the grand maester “ she ordered as she made her way out of the training yard. The boy was would return to his mother, it was not in her heart to take the life of a woman’s child, her heart will not allow it.

Baelon sat on his bed his hands stained with blood, his eyes looking at the ground with anger and hatred. He knew his mother would soon come through the door, yell at him for the first time. He knew the consequences of what he had done, but he would be dishonest if he claimed he would not do it again. He loved his mother and did not wish to disappoint her, but there were certain things he must do. Things he could get away with thanks to his father. He knew he would not face punishment. But his father could no save him from his mother’s wrath.

The doors of his chamber opened, he slowly rose his gaze to see her standing with a cold hard gaze. “The boy….will be a blind man ” she her tone calm but firm.

“I didn’t mean to make him blind” Baelon murmured trying his best to keep his gaze on his mother. He had acted out of anger but he knew he wanted to hurt the boy, not matter how severe the result was. Baelon was not violent, his mother had made sure of it. But his feelings were not easily sooth by the love his mother granted him.

“You think your father will forever let you walk free with no punishment?” She asked him. He didn’t respond which earned him a scoffed “Your father won’t always be here, you know that ” she told him walking to his bed.

“I will be king” Baelon said his voice firm and defiant. “When father dies I will be king”

“You think the realm will accept a cruel arrogant king?” She scoffed “As we-as I see it , you will ascend the iron throne” she said “There are other’s who will put their claim forward, and your very life…the life of your brother and sister could be forfeit, Jaehaerys will not hesitate to get rid of those who oppose his succession“.

“It is my birthright-“ her hand shot out and gripped his face so tightly he winced as he felt her nails dig into his face “your birthright! “ she snapped “Will not matter!. Simply by being HIS son you are in danger! ” she hissed her nails digging on his cheeks tightly sending a stinging pain, her grip did not falter causing his eyes to water “your father did not care about my brother’s birthright! He usurped the throne, Jaehaerys will not care either , ” her voice filled with venom angry and bitter. It had been the first time Baelon had seen rage in his mother’s eyes, she was angry at him, she was hurting him. He winced trying to protest but his mother let go of his face “That did not compare to the pain you inflicted upon that boy” she exhaled.

“You will send your regrets, fall to your knees and beg the boy’s for forgiveness “ She scolded. “I will not beg-“ Yet again Baelon was silenced by his mother with a gentle but slightly firm slap that caught him off guard. “Do I make myself clear ? Or do you wish for me to slap you again?” Baelon shook his head and held his cheek.

“Wash up, your father wishes for us to have supper together “ she said firmly and left without a word.

No one was sure what the squire had said to the prince that caused such a chaotic response. Some believed the squire had offended the young prince, but no squire would be brave enough to offend the heir to the iron throne. Other’s said Baelon had seen the boy wearing an emblem of the faith of the seven. Leading to Prince Baelon to attack the young boy over his bitterness towards the faith. The story changed often but the history books remembered the incident as the first act of cruelty in the hands of Baelon the bitter.

Baelon knew it would not the last time his mother would lay a hand on his face. But as he took out a small seven pointed star pin from his pocket he silently vowed to avenge the death of his brother. His mother would have to understand even if it created a drift between them. He stared at the silver pin on his stained hand, he will punish those who wronged the crown, Rhaenor will be his hand and Aella his queen. They would rule together as his mother preordained.

A maid entered his chamber will a water bowl and rags she bowed her head at the young prince before speaking “My prince, the queen has requested for you to tend your own wounds”. Baelon simply nodded as he watched the maid place the bowl on the table, he said nothing nor protested against his mother’s orders. The maids and guards had seen him grow up and most likely heard what he had done. Mayhaps his mother was right…the people will se him differently.

Before : With help of Dowager queen Visenya, y/n made her way into the wheelhouse. To the surprise of both of Tyanna and Ceryse the young girl would attend the hunt. “You should be coming along? It is not safe “ Ceryse warned y/n who sat down with the help of a maid. Y/n gave a half smile before holding her large bump “His grace the king wished for me to attend our son’s Name day celebrations “ she replied. It was not his wish, it was his command for her to attend the joint Name days of both Aegon and Baelon. He ignored the warnings of the maester yet again and successfully impregnated his young wife the girl was pregnant shortly after birthing Rhaenor “The grandmaester says nature should do good for her and the babe” Visenya added gesturing for another pillow to be added for y/n.

Ceryse had hope y/n remained in Dragon stone during the duration of her pregnancy. She resented the girl for getting in the way of her planned bonding with Aegon and Baelon . Yet again the girl was pregnant with her fourth child, the girl would have her fourth child before the age of twenty. The thought became bitter in Ceryse’s mind as she watched Visenya take Aegon from his wet nurse.

“The Mother is quite the generous” Ceryse smile examining the large pump on the girl.

“Is she?” Tyanna snickered eyeing Ceryse with a subtle mockery.

“My grand-niece has given my son healthy babes so effortlessly - while others have struggle and failed miserably “ Visenya said proudly keeping a sharp look on both Tyanna and Cersye. “Even if she is at the age when most girls are enjoying their early stages of womanhood” she said placing a kiss on Aegon’s head, she acknowledged what her son did to y/n. The constant pregnancies made difficult to remember a time where y/n was not pregnant. It was concerning to many members of the court. Even if the young queen has already bled and turned into a woman, in the eyes of many it had she had awfully young and she gave birth to Aegon.

“The days are not easy…but in no time the babe is born” y/n replied carefully holding onto the seat as the wheelhouse drove through hard paths. “Even if it’s a struggle” she said softly avoiding the pity gazes of the maids who were among many who opposed the constant pregnancies, strongly believing it would be the death of young girl.

The carriage reminded silent expect for the noises of both Aegon and Baelon. Rhaenor still being a babe remained in the Redkeep. Despite having wet nurses it was y/n who was slowly learning the ways of being a mother.

The King’s woods appeared to be a small village with the amount of tents and stands set up for the nobles. Jousting and combat arenas were installed for the two princes. Dancing and drinking, large tables with feasts laid out for Maegor’s court. Great houses traveled to celebrate the occasion, all but Baratheon who simply granted both princes with large piles of gifts. The Targaryen colors were displayed proudly and the people gathered as the wheel houses came to a halt. Cheers were received by Maegor who had ridden Balerion despite being such a short flight they watched as he dismounted his dragon with ease. The large beast towering over the camp that now appeared insignificantly smaller.

Ceryse stood up ready to open the door of the wheelhouse when Visenya spoke “The princes should go first along with their mother and I”. Ceryse’s smile faltered as she had planned to exit the wheelhouse with Aegon. She simply nodded and watched as Visenya and the maids help y/n leave her seat.

“Your attempts are no longer admirable but pathetic “ Tyanna whispered whisper to Ceryse as loud clapping erupted once queen y/n and Visenya stepped out of the wheel house. Maegor smile at his mother as he took Aegon and Baelon from her arms. His large stature guarding his sons in his arms. He named his first born son after his father, and his second son after his dragon. He displayed them both with pride, pride in his accomplishment when it came to defying the gods.

“Here is to the princes of the realm!” Lord Daemon Velaryon toasted as he rose his large goblet of wine. Soon the rest of the nobles followed imitating the toast. Daemon Velaryon was a proud man, having he niece married to the king only added to his ego and did not waste his time parading the topic around.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The room was lit with candles and the fire that granted them warmth. The large oak table filled with variations of foods for the royal family. At the head of the table sat Maegor and Baelon by his side. Rhaenor only a few months younger than Baelon sat on the opposite side drumming his fingers with a slightly bored expression. The doors opened and queen y/n with her daughter Rhaella by her side. She was a happy child with her mother’s eyes, she was often seen day dreaming just like her mother and had taken an interest at the night sky.

Queen y/n noticed there were only fives chairs in the room , Tyanna would not be attending the supper. There were rare occasions when Maegor wished for his family to be together and enjoy supper, in some past occasions even Visenya would attend. “As it should be from now on, a united house under one roof” Maegor said waiting for his wife to take a seat on the opposite side next to him.

“I did not take you for a man who upholds his family values “ she replied dark red dress trailing along with her as she sat next to him. Maegor smirked admiring his youthful wife “Certain things make a man change his mind” he said taking her hand.

“How dreadful it is to know you ride for the marches soon” She said sarcastically as he kissed her knuckles. “You will see it soon wife , I plan to have Dorne on its knee before the new moon” he said proudly.

“Unbent, unbowed , unbroken “ she replied “You fail to remember certain places are better as foes than allies”. Aegon the conqueror himself had failed to conquer Dorne and Maegor would be defeated even if he tried.

“I am well aware of their words, what are words when fire and blood rains upon them” he said mockingly. “I will also take Baelon” he said smiling at his son

“That is out of the question “ Queen y/n said frowning “He’s too young, I will not let him ride to a battle he did not start.”

“I’m not sending the boy to die , he’s my squire and he will learn when he’s in the battle ground” Maegor said firmly “If needed he will ride along with me atop of Balerion “ He said proudly.

“You’re keen to have our son rain fire upon the innocent “ Y/n sighed. “Innocent?” Maegor laughed “Those people are mongrels “ he said in disgust “Baelon has proven himself to be a notable sword mans despite young” he said referring to the accident from earlier.

“Do not congratulate him- he blinded a man” y/n disagreed “But that does not mean he should go to battle”

Baelon who had been quiet finally spoke “I wish to fight, earning my knight hood means a great deal to me” he said his voice betraying his eagerness.

“It’s settled” Maegor said satisfied. Y/n she could no longer protest and ultimately decided to not.

“What about us?” Aella asked her father “you will remain in Red keep” he said observing his wife “under the care of my chosen regent, whilst Rhaenor squires for Lord Edwell and learns what it takes to be hand of the king “ his eyes then landing on his son. “Won’t you lad?” He asked his son. Rhaenor nodded proudly content with his father’s choice. “I will” he grinned

The dinner continued with the occasional chatter and bantering of Aella and Rhaenor, all y/n could think about was what she would do during her husbands absence, he would leave Tyanna and mayhaps return to a dead wife and a sole queen until he married Jeyne Westerling and Elionor Costayne. The thought of no longer dealing with Tyanna was refreshing, she could send Maegor’s wife to Dragonstone whilst she dealt with the succession. Everything would go her way, for once.

She was about to leave the room after dinner concluded when she felt his hands on her waist. It irked her when she felt his touch “Eager , when you have two brides riding for King’s landing” she muttered taking his large hands off her.

“I did not take you for a the jealous wife” he sneered his firm not letting go off her as he sank his face in the crook of her neck “I did not waver when it came to marrying you - to think I will replace you with them is foolish..even for you” he said turning her around to face him.

“Do as you wish” she said dryly“I have done my duty “ she hissed as his hand gripped her chin “you are a hateful woman, our son does not only take after me but you as well” he taunted her. Deep down she knew she was also filled with bitterness something she tried to hide but always lingered.

“You will receive Lady Jeyne and Lady Elinor in my absence “ he told her his hand still firmly gripping her face. “You will do so with no complaint. If you wish to remain in your position , you will do as I tell you”

She clenched her jaw and nodded “As you wish it”. Over my dead body- she thought to herself, when Maegor left the city gates things would change and she would be sure of it.

————————————————————————

Maegor rose from his seat while the council members watched. “You are all well aware of my soon departure “ he spoke his voice rough and cold. “The conflict at the marches will be resolved and soon Dorne will join us” he scanned the room for anyone who wished to speak but all sat quietly listening.

“Lord Edwell” he turned to the hand of the king. The old lord looked vigilant waiting for the king to speak. “Your grace?” He replied clearing his throat. He was visibly nervous as he felt Maegor cold glare on him.

“You will council my son, Rhaenor will be the future hand of Baelon” he instructed to the old lord. “It is my honor your grace, to instruct the prince “ The old man bowed his head.

“It should be” Maegor replied looking at his ring before speaking again “My dear lady wife, who has stood by me for as long as I have been king” he spoke his gaze still on his ring.

Tyanna seemed more relaxed at his comment, he had acknowledged her and her devotion to him. Something she never expected but always craved. After years at his service he would name her regent and the court would deal it with.

“Only a cunning woman as her should be named regent” his voice filled with admiration as his eyes landed on her. The eyes in the room landed on her as well. It had been expected and unexpected. The once tense room seemed relaxed, the members could not oppose his choice. He locked eyes with her and gave her a nod of approval. He did not considered anyone else as regent, the choice there the whole time. His mind never changed.

“Y/n” he spoke firmly pulling his chair so she could sit. She will sit in judgment and rule for him during his absence. As she took her seat the head of the table she held her gaze. Everything had fallen in order as she had hoped, even better than she had. As regent she no longer needed to grasp for power. It had been delivered to her by her king himself.

Tyanna face was hard only watching as Maegor whispered something to y/n. Having the woman she hated as regent was worse than having Lord Edwell, she will cling for mercy something she knew y/n no longer had for those who wronged her. Tyanna had wrong her as much as Maegor had and in her heart she knew she would not be spared.

Tymond Lannister and Daemon Velaryon gave each other knowing glances. Daemon was her uncle and now a trusted ally, only adding to the desperation of being at the high table of nobles. Tymond was a friend, she had appointed him herself and he supported her son’s claim, with her as regent they need not to worry about Maegor.

Only Grand maester Benifer, her longest ally who knew having her a regent meant she had all the power. Something she had searched for since the death of he son, only the gods knew what y/n would do once Maegor left.

The horses and men were ready and so was Baelon, his armor shone under the sun light and clanked as he walked. Dark sister tightly stripped on his waist, his father had given him the sword as a name day gift ,he approached her mother eh “I’m sorry” he spoke quietly. Long it had been since his outburst and was unsure if his mother had forgiven him. “For what sweet boy” his mother asked brushing some hair off his face.

“I truly did not wish to blind him…but I did want to harm him” he confessed. His mother kissed the top of his and whispered to him “If you to harm those who hurt us, let it be them and not the innocent”. He nodded upon hearing her words. “I don’t have a dragon what use would I be to him” he sighed.

She smiled and patted his shoulder “I have not seen my dragon in years only from afar. But one day, you will get to have one and experience the feeling of soaring through the skies. “.

“I heard Skyfyre’s song is filled with sadness, she’s taken home in Dragon stone waiting for you” Baelon said “She has three eggs that she guards with her might…selfish” he rolled his eyes.

His mother chuckled as guided him to say his goodbyes to his brother and sister. “Aella” Baelon said taking out a small ring from his pocket “I will be back soon enough”. “I know” She smiled as she accepted the ring.

“I trust the iron throne will be warm when I return” Maegor said pulling his wife aside.

“Anything else you wish for me to warm? Such as your bed for Jeyne and Elionor “she raised an eyebrow.

Maegor smirked “I would venture to say it was I who you are protective of, but if it’s your role as queen you so worry about” he said holding her hand. “You will not be supplanted, you are the queen regent do as you wish “ he placed a kiss on her. He was confident on his future victory, his wife had made sure to grant him pleasure before he rode off. He almost regretted his choice on leaving. “I will return “ he reassured her.

“I know” she replied letting go off his hand as he placed his helmet on his head. He would ride Balerion with his son. He looked at his wife before both him and Baelon made their to the dragon pit.

————————————————————————-

Rhaella sat on her mother’s lap , the had iron throne always intimidated her. The sharp blades poking out, thousands of swords forged into a large throne meant for the king. So mighty it seemed to never end. Yet there she sat with her mother as if they were both ment to sit comfortably . Listing to the request and petitions of both nobles and small folk. Her brother Rhaenor stood by lord Edwell as they gestured for another petition, Rhaenor had learned fast and he grinned at his sister every now and then both finding their roles boring but interesting. Their father had been gone for months now and their mother had been running kingdom smoothly, even forcing to common people and nobles to coexist if they wished for an audience.

“Good morrow you grace” a small old man bowed to queen y/n.

“Good morrow Kevan” queen y/n nodded, it was the third time the old man had asked for an audience, first time being when a member of the guards had assaulted his bread stand. The second when noble had been tormenting his daughters. Even if the request was minor the small folk sought refuge in the queen who defended them.

“I heartily hesitated on asking for another audience , your grace” he said ashamed.

“You are to ask for as many audiences as you please” she reassured him. “How might I be at your service?” She asked.

The old man swallowed hard “I come representing the small folk who..are afraid of facing the nobles and the faith “ he spoke quietly but bravely. She raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Seven, her husband had banned the militant from carrying weapons and all she knew they currently roamed the streets as they please with no arms or weapons.

“There had been…unfair attacks on us your grace, we are accused of sins we have not committed and terrorized by nobles who envied our new privilege of exposing their actions” Kevan said his voice raising slightly.

Y/n nodded as she listen his petition “There is a new self proclaimed high septon, he calls himself the Lord of the seven, he claims he was chosen by the gods. He accepts coins from the nobles who seek to make the small folk pay for their own punishment.” The queen was well aware of the result when it came to prioritizing the common people, many nobles has been exposed by both the small folk and the servants themselves yet she never expected for the nobles to form an alliance with the faith militant. The people who took her son.

“I assure you Kevan, you problems will be dealt with” she spoke firmly. “Where would I might find this so called Lord of the seven?”.

“You sit so comfortably “Tyanna said bowing her head. The throne was completely empty and only y/n sat the throne lost in her thoughts, her body completely leaning against the throne fully relaxed. The day was late but it was yet to end “it’s a chair” y/n replied. Tyanna rolled her eyes walking closer to the bottom of the steps her heels clicking and echoing in the empty hall. “A throne, one which your brother is currently desiring “ Tyanna corrected her.

“You have not been of much use lately” she told Tyanna her voice slightly annoyed.

“I tell her grace what she should hear” Tyanna smirked “Not what she wants to hear”. It was clear she kept information from the queen, the only thing she could do as an act of defiance.

“Within a fortnight Lady Westerling and Lady Costayne will arrive. Yet you refuse to cooperate, even though your tittle and power are diminishing” y/n muttered. “Tell about me Rhaena…Will she be the third bride” Y/n had not received a letter from her sister which only filled her suspicions.

“He send a message..pardon her for her acts if she married him, and bend the knee“ Tyanna told her “It was just answered and she has agreed”. It felt strange that the once defiant sister had easily accepted such ridiculous proposal. But she had her own daughters to protect and for that y/n did not blame her. Tyanna was not by all means pleased with his decisions, she was jealous having to share Maegor but seeing y/n not care for the king and only worry about the throne made her feel something.Feelings she struggled to hide, feelings that would make the hatred for her vanish.

Y/n did not care for Tyanna let alone Maegor. Though having Tyanna as a spy was a useful benefit her, she would not side with the woman that killed her brother. “That will be all” she dismissed her.

The place reeked,even if she held her scented handkerchief close to her nose she still could smell the decaying stench. They had made the outside of the Grand Sept their home, and even in the outdoors the smell of facies was potent enough to make her gag. She had the king’s guard by her side an and few guards ready to defend her if any of them attacked. As she was about to climb the steps a group of men dressed in grey robes blocked her path. She had not come to discuss peace terms with the lunatics that terrorized the streets she had come to put an end to it. The men did not say anything simply blocked her path not flinching or moving. She looked back Ser Olyver standing behind her, his sword tightly held on his hand.

“Clear it out” she ordered not bothering to look back at the group. Without hesitation the white cloaks took out their sword and swooped to clear out the steps. She did not look back as heard the agonizing screams of the faith militant. The sound of crushing skulls and the clanking of metal attracted the attention of the common folk. They watched in horror as the King’s guard stained their cloaks. Leaving no room for escape each guard cut through them swiftly and each body fell one by one.

It was Ser Olyver who climbed the steps of the sept clearing his path with his sword in hand. He looked for the so called Lord of the seven ready to take his head. He stopped at his tracks instantly spotting a knelt man praying to the Father above. Ser Olyver took off his helmet the only noises were the screams and clacking of metal . The king’s guard would clear not only the sept but the Red keep. In his pocket was a list of names of nobles who conspired against the throne. He would help queen y/n restore greatness to Westeros.

The lord of the seven had his eyes closed and silently prayed, his voice coming out in rigid whispers. He swallowed knowing soon his head would fall from his shoulders, but he will meet the gods and they would reward him. He was wrong.

He gasped as his lungs filled with water. Burning his nose and throat as his head was shoved into water. He was about the scream but his head was submerged again. He coughed loudly unsure of where he was. “What?” He breathed loudly trying to fight off the dizziness. He felt a sharp pain on his jaw that made his eyes focused on a woman who stood next to a guard. “Leave us” she ordered. The old man had his hands and feet tied up and could not move even if he tried. He was shoved into the dirty floor his face slamming hard against the stone. He felt the drool mixed with blood pour down his mouth. He spat out a tooth, his mouth full of the metallic taste of blood.

“I always pictured this moment “ the voice said. He was on the ground and the only thing visible was the dark red dress she wore. “Only it was you who had me at your mercy” she said dryly, her dress circling around him. “You were reason I never slept, the reason I was paranoid of everything, I was afraid to close my eyes. Afraid you would come take my children” she said pausing her steps for a moment. The old man looked up and was met by a white harried maiden. Dressed in beautiful red and black gown, her hair neatly done and her hands fidgeted with her rings. “I was, so consumed with grief my daughter did have a mother for the first months of her life ” she said biting the inside of her cheek.

“Your child” he moaned In pain his limbs suddenly aching “was an abomination “ his voice weak and fragile.

“Yes but was mine!” she snapped her eyes filled with anger, her teeth dug in the inside of her cheek so tightly she too could taste blood. “He was not a monster, he was a child!” She hissed. The man did not respond, the man simply lay on the ground twitching in agony. “My child”

The lord of the seven began to drag himself across the floor, the little strength he had used it to try and sit up. “I’m, not much of a believer, I never was. But I do believe that if you could, you would kill the rest of my children.”

The man let out a painful groan as struggled to reach the wall. “You were out for.. a week mayhaps “ she said “the king’s guard made sure to torture you even when your eyes were closed.” She said her hands folding together unsure what to do with them. She wanted for him to feel pain, her pain. “You will at no one’s mercy and you will beg for forgiveness. Not it is sufficient “

The old man spat out again this time more blood came out of this mouth “You” he gasped “Will have to KILL me!”. She hummed almost finding his outburst amusing. Her hands folding together unsure what to do with them, she would not touch him

“Kill you?” She sneered “no, I won’t kill you but the days will stretch and you will wish I did ”. She wanted him to suffer and he would be locked in the smallest chamber and be tortured severely but still he kept alive. The old man had not been caught by Maegor which only made the interaction more satisfying for her. She was avenging her son but it was not enough in her eyes. “The heads of your followers are currently on spikes but you won’t join them, not any time soon”. She looked at him with disgust as he watch him finally sit up. It was pathetic how long it took him, she simply knocked him back down with her foot.

“For Aegon” it was the last thing the man heard before she turned blew out the torches . Leaving him trapped in the cramped cell with nothing but his pain and that rats that would soon eat him.

————————————————————————

She stood overlooking the gates watching the last lord be hang for treason. She stood and watched more than twenty nobles hang from walls, she had spared the lives of a few of them and instead of hanging them she send three lords to the wall, where they will forever rot without titles or lands.

She would welcomed Elionor Costayne and Jeyne Westerling and even her sister Rhaena. But she would not care for them they wound fend for themselves just as she had. It had taken many losses and years for her to be forged into the woman who currently sat the iron throne in her husbands absence. Maegor was cruel , heartless and a tyrant, she had hid behind him, devoted her life to him. But she now clawed her way up the wheel clinging to power. Crushing anything beneath her path that could risked the lives of children.

It was her nature to protect the innocent.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[lu-is-not-ok]

*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 11: The Eavesdropper

part 10 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: no one really talks about how getting half of what you wanted is almost worse than nothing at all. as the killer haunting gotham starts closing in, you'll have to rely on jason anyway, no matter what it does to your poor heart

tags: off screen violence, reference to serial killer, reference to torture, implied (off screen) sexual violence, slight misogyny, implied sexual content

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k

a/n: surprise! @janybabyy left some wonderfully enthusiastic tags on the last update that hit my brain just right so now you have another chapter! we are getting darker with content, so please heed the tags and let me know if you think anything is missing

Sleeping with Jason Todd does not cure you of your feelings for him. If anything, it digs the knife in deeper. You know him now – the smell of his skin sleep-warm, the way his chin drops to his chest when he comes, how tender his voice can curl around your name –  only you don’t have any reason to keep your distance anymore. Can card your fingers through his curls in the privacy of your apartment, tangle your legs together, steal sweet mouthed kisses from him. You have Jason now, as much of him as he’ll let you have, and it hurts worse than having nothing at all. A slow acting poison that tastes sickeningly sweet as it slides down your throat burning everything it touches on the way down.

The pain of the distance he used to insist upon is nothing compared to the agony of his closeness. He whispers tender things into your ears he doesn’t mean, helps himself to your personal space with a casual cruelty, keeps being the friend (god you hate that word) that you’d fallen in love with only he won’t love you back.

It helps, a little, that there’s still this unseen line drawn between your friend – Jason – who you see in the daylight, and your fuckbuddy – Jay – that only appears when the door to your apartment is firmly closed. Jason is kind, brings you homemade lunches and takes your bag when he walks you home. He makes you laugh, bickers good naturedly with your friends, camps out in the library with you as long as you need. He pays attention to you, considers your words and the weight of them, makes sure your voice never goes unheard. Your friend Jason makes you feel like you could take on the world with the strength of his belief in you. If Jason makes you feel 10 feet tall, Jay does the opposite. Jay has you second guessing every move, every word, just in case you drive him away again. Has you wild eyed and sleepless over how you’re not good enough to love but good enough to fuck. Wondering if one day he’ll look at your desperate attempts to let him in – into your heart, into your bed, into your body – and see someone note good enough for that either. It’s not enough, nothing about you is enough, enough to make him stay. There’s a nebulous expiry date hanging over your head but you are too weak and greedy to do the smart thing and break it off.

You want to scream, to cry, to pound your fists against his stupidly broad chest and demand to know why. Why can he so easily disregard the fragile pieces of your heart underneath his boots when all of you is so ruthlessly consumed by him? It’s not fair. But then he looks at your with those smiling eyes and every angry part of you crumbles. Can almost hear the rubble as it hits the floor when he brushes your hair out of your face and false compliments fall from his tongue. Weak as you are, you steal whatever comfort from him you can.

Refuge, wherever you can find it, is necessary. If you weren’t almost being driven mad by your heartsickness, you would have lost yourself to fear ages ago. Three bodies now, girls that could be you, found in dark alleys. Maybe there’s more of them but the Red Hood has iced you out. Girls with eyes that look like yours, features you could describe with your eyes closed. Same height to them, same width to their hips. You can’t bear to look but you can’t bear not to know either. Jason won’t tell you the truth of it. So you force yourself to look. Check the news obsessively each morning, waiting with the most awful kind of terror from any kind of safety update from the university (too many bodies too close to campus – they have to say something even if it’s only to cover their asses).

You can feel the stares like a physical thing every time a body drops. Whispers behind hands as strangers compare you to the face on their screens. Everyone sizing you up, sizing up your potential to be found dead the next week. It doesn’t matter how many bottles of mace you carry or even that you’ve got one of Gotham’s own crime lords dogging your steps. The judgement lays heavy on you, breaths down your neck until the possibility of it is impossible to ignore. Dead corpse still walking. Only a matter of time before the grave calls you home but not before one of the most dehumanizing deaths the city has ever crafted. You can see it in the way your friends won’t look you in the eyes after every new article comes out. In the way that Dannika holds your hand tight and Lina doesn’t smile so widely anymore. It’s choking, this fear. Your cuticles are a mess and there’s a smooth spot on the back of your pearl pendant from all the times you’ve nervously rubbed it for comfort. Gotham doesn’t feel like home anymore, the alleys and side streets suddenly looming tall to suffocate you.

The GCPD is both horribly inept and terribly corrupt because it doesn’t take long before details of the murders start trickling out to the press in a steady stream. Always taken on a Friday evening. Bodies found early Sunday by garbage collectors. Beaten. Tortured. Mutilated. Violated. The list of adjectives drags on, swimming before your nauseated eyes. It’s not until the fifth girl is found that the last detail is leaked: all of them, every one, had made a single phone call from an unknown number in the early hours of Saturday morning to their loved ones. What it was that they discussed is unclear, but the news anchors all agree it was not a call they made by choice.

The screen fades in and out of focus as you read that particularly gruesome detail, heart breaking in to pieces at the thought of those poor girls’ last words. The ones whose calls got declined out of fear of a scam, the ones whose messages went straight to voicemail because of the early hour. Hysterically, you begin to think about who your phone call would be to. Your parents? You haven’t been on the best terms with them in years, been ignoring your mother’s calls lately because her fear is contagious. One of your friends then?  Jason? But a random murderer wouldn’t know those fine details, would probably just have you pick a number at random, whoever they thought would hurt the most at hearing your voice.

A heavy hand on your shoulder shakes you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Hey,” Jason says and suddenly you can breathe again. “You won’t be one of them, so stop thinkin’ about the phone calls, yeah?”

You nod – a lie – and chew at your lip. A few months ago your only concern was finishing out the year and getting in to grad school. Now, you don’t know that you’ll ever feel safe again.

Campus remains relatively dead, people too afraid that the killer might deviate from his well established patterns and suddenly attack them at random. You scoff when you hear a couple of freshman discussing it; they aren’t anywhere near the killer’s type, not like you are. But for you, it’s a choice between sitting at home and staring at the walls, jumping every time the pipes rattle or a neighbour slams a door too loudly while your sanity slowly unravels, or this. Putting in extra hours as Professor Llewellyn’s research assistant, haunting the common spaces and libraries for the company of strangers, killing the time that stretches out between the brief moments you can spend with your friends.

You’re early on this particular Wednesday, desperate to get out of the apartment. Danika and Will are the only other ones haunting the student commons with you, Rei and Lina conspicuously absent. With a pang, you try to ignore the awkward silence that lives where Jason should be beside you. It’s quiet, save for the scratching of highlighters and the rushed clacking of keyboard keys as you work. Will’s not the best conversational partner and Dannika seems preoccupied by something. You’re so absorbed by your work that you don’t notice the stranger standing at the end of the table until he clears his throat. You jump and Dannika strangles a scream, knocking her notebook onto the ground. The man stoops to pick it up.

“Sorry,” he says with a grin that should be charming but your hackles are raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you all, I was just looking for my brother Jason. I was told that he’s usually here on Wednesdays?” He slides the notebook back to Dannika and she snatches it up to her chest.

Surreptitiously you send a text off to Jason under the table, unwilling to look away and let your guard down.

You: there’s a stranger here with a creepy smile that’s too wide for his face, says he’s your brother

Jason: that’s Dick

You sag with relief at the confirmation. Dannika takes her cue from you and starts to look at the man (Dick?) with less suspicion and more blatant appreciation. He simply beams under her stare.

Jason: wait please tell me you told him you think his smile is creepy

You: yeah I’m not doing not insulting your brother this soon after meeting him

“So,” Dick interrupts, still smiling that suspiciously happy smile. “Is he coming any time soon? I’d love to meet all of his friends if he’s gonna be a while.”

Will snorts at that you hold back the urge to stomp on his toes.

You: wants to know what he should do

Jason: tell him to go buy chilli dogs at the Batburger and I’ll meet him there

“Jay says to buy him a chilli dog from Batburger and he’ll meet you at the stand,” you say, jutting your chin out to indicate the order window on the other side of the commons.

“Jay, huh?” Dick says consideringly and you swear in your head.

Fuck. You really should know better by now to keep them separate. Dick shrugs and lopes off. The unfair grace must be genetic, you decide.

“So Jay, huh?” Dannika echoes, and you swear again.

“He doesn’t actually like to be called that,” you demure, frantically trying to dig yourself out of this hole before Jason actually does show up.

She turns to you, wraps a hand gently around your wrist where it lays on the table.

“No, no I’m just glad that you two made up. You both seem a lot less awkward around each other now. I’m just happy to see you less unhappy.” Her words are sweet but you can’t help but to clamp down on the wild giggle bubbling up in your throat. Less unhappy. Right.

“Yeah because she’s obviously fucking him,” Will interjects, derailing your train of thought. You slam your laptop closed.

“Oh fuck you too,” you hiss out through bared teeth. “You think guys and girls can’t be friends without sex? Newsflash Will, we’re supposed to be friends and I’d never in a million years fuck you.”

You grab your bag and storm off, shame and anger sparking in your chest and clawing their way up your throat.

“You know, it’s really rude to make comments about someone’s sex life or lack of one...” you hear a voice that sounds like Dick start to say.

You stumble out into the blinding whiteness of the snowy outdoors, squinting at the sudden change in light. Your coat is still slung over your arm but you don’t feel the bite of the cold yet, chest still heaving as an emotion you try not to look at too hard bubbles up inside of you. Why his words had landed so badly with you, well that’s not something you want to cry over in public before you can put yourself back together without anyone seeing. The frozen air cuts open your lungs with each heaving inhale but it grounds you, pulls you out of your racing thoughts and into the present moment.

“Hey!” Dannika puffs out, running into the cold morning air after you. “Wait up!” She bends in half, hands resting on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. She groans and stretches out her lower back, grinning at you ruefully. “Let’s find somewhere else for the rest of today. Will was so far out of fucking line. He’s been such a little asshole ever since he broke his wrist and I know we’re supposed to be understanding that he’s grumpy from the pain but that was just him being mean and neither of us need to put up with that shit.”

“You’re not gonna ask if it’s true?” you ask her, starring at the dirty snow on the ground.

“Well if it was true and you didn’t tell me, I’d assume you had a good reason. And if you didn’t have a good reason but were worried I was gonna judge you, I wouldn’t. But those are all hypotheticals of course.” She says it so kindly that you can feel the first pinpricks of tears in your eyes.

“One of the library group study rooms should be open, let’s go snag one,” you settle on instead of the secret that’s been burning a hole through your tongue.

“Sure! Oh lemme text Jason real quick to let him know we changed spots for today,” she agrees easily and you let out a sigh of relief.

No, sleeping with Jason Todd hasn’t cured any of your feelings for him.

'part 12

[cobrakaisb]

call me, beep me, if you want to reach me

summary: percy, annabeth, and grover have some great news about their quest, but something is off about their hypothesis  

word count: 2.8k

featuring: reader and annabeth’s relationship, slightly steamy reader and luke scene, more percabeth crumbs, fluff and angst  

author's note: IM BACKKKKK...this one took me forever, and i am so sorry about that! between finals, coming home from college, and just dealing with life in general it has been a real struggle BUT we are finally back on the luke train 🤩 and trust, these next few parts are about to get real...anyways, enjoy 💗

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

you run to the top of the hill, calling out to the three kids before they can cross the protective barrier surrounding camp half-blood.

“i just wanted to wish you guys good luck before you leave, although i’m sure you won’t need it,” you explain, walking up to the trio. 

annabeth smiles at you. there’s an excited gleam in her eyes, and you remember how she’s been waiting for this for years -- her chance at glory.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, not really knowing what to say. 

“i just…be safe okay?” you whisper, hands gripping tightly at annabeth’s shoulders while you look directly at her. 

she nods, “i will. i promise.” 

you nod in agreement, lips pursed in a tight line as you struggle to keep your emotions at bay. over the course of your years at camp, the bond between you and annabeth has grown exponentially. you love her like a little sister, one you’d do anything to protect. it scares you to think about her, a twelve year old kid, in the real world with no one looking out for her this time. 

she senses your anguish, and pulls you into a tight hug. you freeze at first, not used to the affection from her, but ultimately wrap your arms around her small frame. the two of you stand there for a minute, embracing each other, but break apart when luke calls out to you from the bottom of the hill. 

“it’s time to go,” he yells, and you imagine his pointed look and crossed arms. luke was just as worried as you, but he found it necessary to hide those feelings, claiming it was best for annabeth’s sake. you disagreed. 

you nod, stepping away from the kids, back towards the chaos of camp, “i’ll see you at the solstice.”

you watch, with your stomach in knots from nerves and a mouth full of anxiety, as the kids step past thalia’s tree and into the world of monsters.      

that was almost four days ago, and still no word from the trio. percy, annabeth, and grover were on their quest to find and return zeus’s master bolt, but the radio silence worries you. while you didn’t expect them to call every day to say good night — they needed to save their dracmas — you at least expected some type of update by now. the lack thereof leaves a nervous feeling in your stomach; something isn’t right, you know it, but you can’t quite determine what. 

“those are called feelings sweetie,” katrina replies when you explain your current predicament to her.

you suck your teeth at her words, shoving her shoulder as you mumble, “shut up.”

“i’m being serious! since when do you care about three twelve year olds? no scratch that, since when do you care about anybody?” she shouts, throwing her hands up. 

you look down at your converse, arms crossing over your bent knees as you sit and look at the rippling water. i care about luke, you think, and all those kids who will never experience a true family thanks to our parents. i care about you, and our friendship. i care about grover, who’s too kind for his own good. the list goes on and on, but you don’t say any of those names out loud. 

instead you respond with, “i care about annabeth.”

katrina openly scoffs at your words, leaning back on her palms. “oh please, i’m talking about that little blonde.” 

you sigh, looking at her over your shoulder. her short hair rustles in the breeze, and the unruly curls from spending the day in the water makes her possess a childlike innocence. if you didn’t know katrina, you’d think she was a sweet girl who’d chew you out for swearing, but you do know her; she’s anything but, and the constant taunting and teasing proves that. 

“there’s something different about percy,” you explain with a shrug. 

“yeah, it’s called your need to play mommy,” she mumbles. 

“oh shut up,” you gripe, getting up from your spot on the dock. you make sure to kick her calf, not too hard, on your way back to hera’s cabin. 

“harder,” luke commands, despite the sweat dripping down both of their faces. 

percy groans, throwing his head back in frustration. they’ve been going at it for hours, practicing various techniques and maneuvers with wooden swords. while percy’s claiming was still new, and his slaying of the minotaur with no experience was still the talk of the camp, it was obvious to everyone that he needed to train. there’s an impending war coming, and the blonde boy has found himself right in the middle of it. 

but he doesn’t even know what it is, you think, stepping into the dirt of the practice arena. 

“give him a break, luke. he needs some hydration,” you exclaim, holding up two refillable water bottles. 

they’re dripping in condensation, the ice from the pavilion already melting in the sweltering heat courtesy of long island summers. luke grumbles something under his breath, probably about how he doesn’t need a break, but takes the bottle from you with a squeeze of your hip. he stays close to your side as he drinks the water, and instead of giving him your attention, you’re busy looking over percy. 

“there’s a cut on your forehead,” you say, pushing back some of his curls to get a better look. 

“yeah, your boyfriend nicked me,” he replies, gesturing to luke with his chin. 

“it was an accident! how many times do i have to tell you?” luke defends.

“a lot more. i’m great at holding grudges,” percy announces, and you roll your eyes. 

“and that’s why you’re becoming friendly with annabeth?” you tease.

luke raises his eyebrows at your statement, looking over at the smaller boy, whose cheeks are suddenly a very dark shade of red. 

“that’s different,” he grumbles, pouring the remaining water on his head. 

“uh huh, right. whatever floats your boat i guess,” you reply, patting his cheek in a motherly fashion. percy swerves with an eye roll fit for a teenager. 

“anyways, i’ll let you guys get back to it,” you announce, turning to face luke. 

you kiss his cheek, and his palm splays across your waist. he gives it a gentle squeeze, a small sign of affection in a hasty moment. you smile at him, leaning into his chest to whisper, “go easy on him.” 

“he’s training with the best swordsman in camp, he knows what to expect,” luke replies, cocky as ever, as you pat his sweaty chest three times before walking away. 

the training arena is packed when you arrive, brimming with younger kids and blaring noisy chatter. they’re all clad in some sort of battle armor: shields, bronze chest plates, and celestial bronze swords. it takes a minute for them to notice your presence, but when they do they part like the red sea. most of them have the sense to keep quiet, watching you with nervous eyes and wary glances, fueled by the words of their older siblings no doubt. others, the more gutsy of the bunch, have the courage to whisper the exact words they heard from their siblings, warning their friends about you and your anger. you, however, are focused on finding the tallest head amongst the group; the one housing messy, onyx curls. 

“he’s up front, helping jimmy with his armor,” a young girl whispers shyly, drawing designs in the dirt with the tip of her sword.

you stop walking, turning to face her. she’s young, no older than eight, and you feel the edges of your hard exterior soften from the sight of her pigtails and pink twinkle toes. you smile softly at her, hoping that it doesn’t scare her off. 

“thank you,” you say, “i love your shoes.” she smiles at your words, giggling quietly to herself as a small blush coats her cheeks. 

just as she goes to answer, luke appears at your side with, who you can only assume, is jimmy. you smile softly at him, ready to explain why you’re here in the first place, but luke beats you to it:

“let me just give them some instructions, then we can talk, okay?” he whispers, his free hand taking its place on the small of your back.

you hum in agreement, watching fondly as he takes charge of the large group of young demigods. he instructs them to practice the methods he just demonstrated in pairs, explaining that he’ll be walking around to give feedback once he’s done talking to you. as the kids partner up, he leads you to the side of the arena, where he finally meets your gaze with a raised brow. 

“what?” you ask, crossing your arms at his confused stare. 

“you never come here while i’m teaching lessons,” he answers.

“well, maybe i’m starting to,” you reply. 

luke scoffs at your words, “no shot. what’s really going on?” 

“i could be!” 

“but you’re not. you hate their judgy, beady, little eyes. so, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours to make you seek me out while i’m in the middle of lessons?” he continues, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. 

you take a deep breath, meeting his chocolate brown eyes on the exhale, and state your concerns: “i’m worried. why haven’t we heard from them yet? it’s been days, and it’s not like annabeth to keep us completely in the dark.” 

luke sighs at your words, “i’m sure they’re fine.” 

you raise your eyebrows at his unexpected answer. this is luke, the same guy who refused to let you and annabeth out of his sight during capture the flag, talking? not a chance. 

“so you’re not worried, at all?” you ask, searching for the true reason behind his lack of worry. 

luke clenches his jaw at your words, looking away from you as he stares off into the distance. his eyebrows furrow, and you can see something flicker across his face. you don’t know what it is, but you know he’s battling something within himself. 

“luke?” you ask softly, resting your hand on his bicep. 

he shakes his head, a carefree smile taking over his face as he says, “it’s annabeth. she’s the smartest, most careful person i know. nothing’s wrong.” 

you eye him warily, and nod your head slowly, “right. i guess i’m just overthinking.” 

luke smiles, a teasing look in his eyes as he nudges your foot with his own. you look up at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you meet his playful gaze. 

“you always are,” he mumbles, followed by a loud laugh as you shove his shoulder. 

he plants a quick kiss on your temple, hands rubbing up and down your sides before whispering, “i’ll stop by your cabin tonight. once they’re all tucked in.” 

you hum in agreement, watching as he departs from your side and heads to the closest duo to provide feedback.  

****

the door creaks open, and luke slips inside before the harpies register the noise. you’re already awake, patiently waiting for him on the singular cot in the cabin. the eternal flames of the fire pit burn brightly, leaving dangerous shadows on your face, illuminating the storm brewing inside. 

“you’re late,” you quip, not even bothering to look up from your book. 

you’re laying on your stomach, propped up on your forearms with a paperback book in your hands. you’re in your usual sleep attire, shorts and a tank top, and luke has to physically hold back a groan. he’s never wanted you so badly in his life, but instead of expressing that desire, he apologizes for his actions.

“some of the younger campers were arguing, you know i had to settle that,” he whispers, burying his face between your neck and left shoulder. 

luke kisses your bare skin, slightly warmed from all the sun you’ve been getting recently. your head tilts, giving him access to more skin, and he doesn’t deny that. his lips move to your neck, leaving more than a few marks. 

“careful. hera’s watching,” you tease, closing the cover of your book. 

“let her,” he mumbles, practically moaning when you thread your fingers through his hair. 

“oh you’d love that,” you taunt, tugging on his curls. 

luke’s right arm wraps around your waist, flipping you onto your back, while his left pushes your book to the floor. your mouth falls open in shock, and you gasp quietly. he smirks at your expression, feeling satisfied to have you speechless. before you can ruin the moment, he captures your mouth with his. 

the kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth. his left hand settles next to your head, while his right tugs your hips closer to his. your fingers are still lodged into his curls, and you use them to keep his face pressed against yours. he pulls back, gasping for air, but keeps his forehead planted against your skin. before he can reconnect your lips, you’re kissing all over his face.

“missed you,” you murmur in between kisses. 

luke sighs, relaxing into your arms as the tension from camp counselor duties and other activities leaves his body. he knows eventually he’s going to have to tell you. he thinks it will be something like ripping off a band aid. but, for now, when he has you so eagerly in his arms, and he’s content with baring the brunt of the burden. besides, the kids aren’t even close to figuring out the truth, he’s sure of it. 

****

“we know who stole the bolt,” percy announces, nothing but confidence in his voice. 

luke falters, but only for a second, before asking, “how do you know?”

immediately, annabeth starts rambling. she mentions an encounter with ares, how he knows who the thief is, but was clearly covering for them. as she talks, luke realize that their suspicions are anything but correct, in fact, they’re so far into leftfield it’d be considered a homerun. yet, he runs with it, not willing to give himself up.

“so who would ares cover for?” annabeth finishes, waiting for luke to answer. 

“his favorite daughter. clarisse is the lightning thief,” he answers, making sure to sound shocked by their groundbreaking discovery. 

“chrion’s got to arrest her, find out what she knows. there’s more to this than just the bolt, something bigger,” percy explains.

luke and annabeth share a look of uncertainty, one that percy picks up on because he quickly adds, “don't ask me how i know, you’ve just got to trust me.” 

as luke is about to assure the kids that he’ll get to it straight away, you walk into the office. 

“talking to yourself again, castellan? i knew you were crazy but not this off the rocker,” you tease, stepping closer to his side. 

as you approach, you see the faces of annabeth and percy in the mist. you smile at the sight of them. while they look tired, they seem pretty intact and much better off than you expected.

“how’s your quest going?” you ask, hoping to hear some positive news. 

“not too bad. between ares, the chimera and medusa, i’d say we’re doing pretty good,” percy exclaims.

your eyes widen at his words, and you look to luke to see what his reaction is, but he’s not even looking at you. instead he’s watching the two demigods arguing about which monster occurred each day. he smirks at the sight of them, gently bumping his hip with yours before saying, “what is this?”

“what?” annabeth answers, confusion written all over her face. 

“since when did you guys turn into an old married couple?” luke continues to tease, and you smile at the kids’ shocked faces. percy blushes at luke’s comment, and annabeth makes a point to avoid your gaze.

“not to change the subject, but we need your advice luke. we’re going to vegas and…” before percy can say another word, the iris message cuts out, the connective screen dissipating along with the rainbow that brought it here.

“well that was entertaining,” you joke, turning to face your boyfriend. 

you expect him to laugh at your words, but his face is set into a hard line. his arms are crossed and jaw clenched as he stares at the spot where annabeth and percy’s faces were previously occupying. his thoughts are clearly running a mile a minute, and you step into his line of sight, calling out to him. 

“they think they know who the lightning thief is,” he grumbles, gaze still distant and cold. 

“what? who?” you ask, stepping closer to him. while it’s only the two of you in the room, you don’t want to risk anyone else hearing; this isn’t the sort of thing that should be spread around camp, even if you hate the majority of the people here. 

“clarisse,” he starts, “but they’re wrong.” 

“how do you know?” you ask, nothing but confusion plastered all over your face. 

“because it’s actually me,” luke replies, finally meeting your gaze.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles @dracoslovergirl @vanessa-rafesgirl @l1a-pjosversion

[simmer-emsie]

Not So Berry Challenge 3

Couldn’t get enough of the original Not So Berry Legacy Challenge? Already played through Not So Berry Challenge 2? Wishing you could play a challenge with content from 2021 onward? If you’ve been daydreaming about an updated Not So Berry Challenge (2023), look no further!

Welcome to the Not So Berry Legacy Challenge 3, a ten generation rags-to-riches legacy challenge with colour-themed heirs. Note: This challenge requires basically every pack except My First Pet Stuff and Journey to Batuu (…y’all know why).

Thank you to @lilsimsie​ and @alwaysimming​ for the inspiration (and the rules!).

Basic rules:

Each heir must represent the colour of the generation (like hair, makeup, clothing), but brightly-coloured skin isn’t necessary.

The colours of the spouses don’t matter as they aren’t part of the challenge. Unless otherwise stated you can do whatever you please with them.

Cheats can be used, but not excessively.

You may live wherever you please unless something is specified in the rules of a generation.

Every generation is supposed to complete both the career and aspiration of the heir unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Keep the lifespan on Normal.

Generation One: Soil

Well, you’re on your own now and you haven’t got much to your name except a plot of land and a couple of chickens. That’s alright though; animals tend to understand you better than Sims, anyway. Living off the land is difficult work but you’re determined to cultivate a respectable farm with livestock, fruit trees, and even some oversized produce!

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Socially Awkward, Music Lover

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: None

Rules:

Complete the Country Caretaker aspiration.

Start on an empty lot in Henford-on-Bagley with 500 Simoleons. Hard mode: Start as a teen.

Max the cross-stitch and gardening skills.

Play using the Living Off the Land lot challenge.

Befriend Patchy the Straw Man.

Complete 5 requests for your neighbours.

Generation Two: Sprout

Your best buddy growing up was a farm animal, and now you want to give back to the creatures that meant so much to you. As a veterinarian, you meet a lot of people and make a lot of friends. You spend your free time volunteering and training the animals you bring home with you.

Traits: Cat Lover, Dog Lover, Outgoing

Aspiration: Slumber Party Animal (Child), Friend of the Animals

Career: Veterinarian

Rules:

Complete the Friend of the Animals aspiration.

Max the veterinarian and pet training skills.

Befriend one of your parent’s farm animals as a Child.

Adopt at least one cat and one dog.

Volunteer on weekends.

Generation 3: Blossom

So, your parent was really into animals. And maybe that was a little bit too internalized in you… because now you can’t stop thinking about embracing your primal side and becoming a Werewolf. You still need to pay the bills though, so you work as a Green Technician to protect your territory’s ecosystem. On the weekends, you and your pack go bowling.

Traits: Lactose Intolerant, Insider, Loyal

Aspiration: Werewolf Initiate, Emissary of the Collective OR Wildfang Renegade

Career: Civil Designer, Green Technician branch

Rules:

Complete 2 Werewolf aspirations.

Max the bowling and logic skills.

Become a Werewolf.

Find and marry your Fated Mate.

Go bowling every weekend.

Generation Four: Mist

Uhh… you okay? You were kind of raised by… literal Werewolves. The experience was kind of traumatic, and now you’re trying to live a normal life. You eat grilled cheese as a coping mechanism and as a teen, you start a side hustle so you can move out on your own ASAP. You go to university and get a completely normal job in the city. You struggle to trust someone enough to fall in love, especially after the whole… “Fated Mates” thing your parents had going on. You just really, really want something normal.

Traits: Overachiever, Paranoid, Perfectionist

Aspiration: Goal Oriented (Teen), Grilled Cheese

Career: Any side hustle or part-time job (Teen), Education

Rules:

Complete the Grilled Cheese aspiration.

Max the cooking, baking, and flower arranging skills.

If your Sim is given the option to graduate early, take it.

Get a degree.

After university, move to the city (San Myshuno, Del Sol Valley, or San Sequoia) and get a bonsai tree.

Marry someone with a secret (for example, is an Alien or a Criminal).

Generation Five: Lava

Things were kind of weird growing up, and now you’re healing from your childhood. If therapy was a thing, you’d so be there. But since it’s not, you dedicate yourself to journaling, wellness, and less socially-acceptable coping mechanisms. 

Traits: Erratic, High Maintenance, Party Animal

Aspiration: Drama Llama (Teen), Villainous Valentine (Adult), Inner Peace (Elder) 

Career: Culinary, Mixologist branch

Rules:

Complete the Villainous Valentine aspiration.

Max the mixology, wellness, and writing skills.

Have a negative relationship with your parents.

Have an affair with a celebrity.

Have a child with a married Sim.

Write a tell-all memoir book as an elder.

Generation Six: Ash

You had a fractured family life growing up, but one thing your parents told you about was your ancestor who started a magnificent farm. You want to start anew, just like they did. But, well, you’re kind of a city kid… so you only grow avocados. Also, you’re totally in-tune with the paranormal and commune with ghosts for work.

Traits: Bookworm, Childish, Unflirty

Aspiration: Playtime Captain (Child), Soulmate

Career: Freelancer, Paranormal Investigator branch

Rules:

Complete the Soulmate aspiration.

Max the medium and gardening skills.

Live in an apartment and grow avocados on the balcony.

Marry a Sim that you’ve brought back from the dead.

Generation Seven: River

If there were an award for weirdest upbringing, you’d probably get it. Seriously… one of your parents came back from the dead to have you! The fun doesn’t stop there though. You’re determined to keep having cool experiences and write about them for your whole life.

Traits: Bro, Good, Jealous

Aspiration: Mind and Body (Child), StrangerVille Mystery

Career: Drama Club (Child/Teen), Writer

Rules:

Complete the StrangerVille aspiration.

Max the writing and fitness skills.

Have a child with someone from StrangerVille.

Take your child on vacation at least once every life stage (infant, toddler, child, teen).

Chapter Eight: Ocean

As the heir to a wealthy writer, you’re used to having things handed to you, like jobs and vacations. Now that you’re old enough to make a name for yourself, you want to build your Trendi empire as a Simfluencer. You pick Sulani as the perfect place to make your mark; beautiful weather and beachfront property mean all your followers will be so jealous of you. You love the water more than anyone you know, until one day you see someone a little too far out to sea to be natural… 

Traits: Child of the Islands, Child of the Ocean, Mean

Aspiration: Admired Icon (Teen), Party Animal

Career: Trendi (Teen), Simfluencer

Rules:

Complete the Party Animal aspiration.

Max the entrepreneur and media production skills.

Live in Sulani and become a mermaid.

Sell an outfit on Trendi for 9,999 Simoleons.

Get 1,000,000 followers.

Generation 9: Sand

Your parent always encouraged you to do great things with your life… as long as what you want is to be an Interior Decorator. Your real passion is music and you practice whenever you can. You’ve always wanted to rebel against your parent, but never had it in you to actually do it.

Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Neat

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Interior Decorator (Adult), Entertainment, Musician branch (Elder)

Rules:

Complete the Musical Genius aspiration.

Max the violin and guitar skills.

Have a Strict family dynamic with your parent (you may cheat for this).

Get a Fine Arts degree at university.

If your Sim experiences a midlife crisis, you must complete it.

Generation 10: Flame

As a little kid, your biggest goal in life was to one day become the best parent ever. Your own parent was sad a lot and you acted out because of it, but you want your own kid to have a happier home. You want to provide everything for your children with your own two hands. You like building on the woodworking bench and brewing herbalism concoctions.

Traits: Family-Oriented, Loves Outdoors, Maker

Aspiration: Live Fast (Teen), Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Culinary, Chef branch

Rules:

Complete the Outdoor Enthusiast aspiration.

Max the cooking, handiness, and herbalism skills.

Have at least three children, one of whom is adopted.

Go on family vacations to Granite Falls as much as possible.

Good luck and have fun!