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mononijikayu · 2 days ago

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paninindigan kita — ryomen sukuna.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.” You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.” “Yeah, but I—” “You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.” “Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?” You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!”

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Hotshot, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/ Hurt, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Delinquent Trope, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Injury, Mention of Violence, Mention of Delinquency, Mention of Injury, Mention of Physical Fighting, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 7k words.

Note: i know im in the middle of the valentines special, but i just can't help myself. i reread lovesick and it just slaps you know??? i ended up thinking about what could be a sequel to it. i ended up thinking about opm songs as title, since opm songs just hit different when it comes to love.

paninindigan kita is soooo perfect for this. oh and this is another multiverse of concubine reader and sukuna, where they are ACTUALLY in love. so i hope you enjoy this little gift. i think this is,,,,the care before next week. nanami's fic is NOT for the faint hearted. it requires tissues. anyway, i love you all!!! see you on the 10th <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IF ONE WAS BEING HONEST, NOT MANY CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS MAKE IT THE WAY YOU AND VARSITY CAPTAIN RYOMEN SUKUNA DO. That is the unadulterated truth, tried and tested through the ages and has stayed true to itself.

You and Sukuna had started dating in a very discreet manner in junior high. It was a very well kept secret for a time. And that was to be expected. The Sukuna people knew today was not the Sukuna he used to be.

That’s why you supposed everything about it was new and uncharted, something even both of you could not expect. Everything about it was a wild, unexpected match that neither of you saw coming but somehow made perfect sense.

Ryomen Sukuna was already by this time an infamous troublemaker, a magnetic force of nature for danger and trouble. He was someone with a reputation as the school’s untouchable menace and he proved that almost every day.

Teachers sighed when they saw his name on the attendance list. The school staff could only release a curse and a groan with the realization that they would have to clean up after him and many students from the whole of the junior high and high school whispered about the many fights he always got into but somehow never lost.

He was that young boy with the proud bruised knuckles and a defiant smirk, walking through the halls like he owned the place even though authority figures would have loved to see him expelled.

His uniform was perpetually rumpled, his tie loose like he couldn’t be bothered to fit into anyone’s mold. Even all the parents warned their kids to steer clear of him, to avoid trouble.

But you? You saw something else.

It wasn’t just the raw confidence or the magnetic way he carried himself, though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was the glimpses of a quieter Ryomen Sukuna. You knew the boy who lingered behind the gym after school, looking out at the sky as if he was waiting for something bigger than this tiny town.

Often he would drink a strawberry milk carton and eat anpan and somehow sleep as peacefully as a kitten. You knew the boy who would shove his hands in his pockets shrewdly and softly mutter a word of thanks when he woke up, realizing that you were also sharing his space and quietly brought him bandages when he rested there after a particularly bad fight.

That continued on for a while. And somehow it became a routine. Though, it changed from time to time. At times you found yourselves eating lunch together and talking to each other in between the bites. At times you both ended up playing card games, after he brought some with him — since he pocketed it off some poor first year junior he defeated.

(Though he brought it back when you scolded him about it.

He groaned on and on about it, telling you he’s not going to do it.

But before you went home from cleaning duty, you saw him place it on that first year’s table.)

Sometimes, you get into the habit of listening to music. Which made you realize that you both liked classical music. Though his favorite is Tchaikovsky and yours is Mozart. At one point, the two of you were bringing out books.

At first you were surprised that he was someone that seemed to read for fun at all. Yet he did. If anything, he read books you didn’t even know about yet. And he would lend you his copies so you both can talk about it (and occasionally debate and argue.)

You were perplexed by the person he was. Everything about him was a contradiction. And almost certainly, it was the thing that pulled you close to him, almost like you could be the moon to his Earth. But you realized that deep down, in the depths of the person he was — he was someone that was brilliant.

Almost radiant scarlet in the rough gravel it dwelled upon. And you were perhaps the only one who knew that. The thought of that had made you bitter for a while, because such a gem shouldn’t be lost in the ether. Yet, there was a part of you that recognized that it was alright. Because you were already there. He wasn’t alone anymore. And he was glad for it.

Soon enough, you both realized that you were going the same route home. Just that you liked to walk home and he liked to take his bike. And because he doesn’t like abrupt endings, just as in the book. So, he suggested walking you home himself. After that, he thought about it. After that day, he left his bike at home.

And then he came up to you about walking home together. That first time he asked you to walk home with him, he’d tried to play it cool. He’d never gone home with anyone, let alone a girl. Let alone you.

And so, conclusion is that he was nervous.

He wanted to do well about it.

Yet, he was a trainwreck almost immediately.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?”

You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!��

You could hear him grumbling under his breath, but it was nothing too bad to be sure. And that didn’t matter, not when his hands were warm against your own. Not when you could feel his scarlet eyes trailing against you so tenderly. Not when he was letting you lead the way anyway.

From that day forward, Ryomen Sukuna never went home alone again.

At first, you kept things quiet. At Sukuna’s request, of course. Sukuna didn’t want your name dragged through the mud because of him. People talked enough shit already. About how he was trouble, how he was destined for nowhere good. They just say everything that doesn't count to you.

You knew better, but he hated the idea of you being lumped in with his reputation. After all, you were better than he was, almost akin to a damn real life angel. You deserved better than having been considered a deal with him.

But of course, the stubborn girl you were was steadfast in saying no and only no. Not even when he gets into the worst situations.

“Why do you even hang around me?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the chain-link fence near the basketball court. The sun glinted off the sweat on his brow from another fight he hadn’t started but definitely finished.

Sukuna huffed, leaning back against the wall as you pressed the bandage onto his arm with more care than he thought necessary. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but the rare smile tugging at his lips betrayed the amusement he tried to hide.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” he muttered, his tone gruff.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hotshot.” you shot back, glancing up at him with mock offense. “Next time I’ll let you bleed all over the place like some dramatic action hero.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. I’ve Had Worse.” You smirked, smoothing the edges of the bandage down. “You’re lucky I’m even doing this.”

“Why?” he asked, almost challengingly.

“Because I want to.” you said simply, not bothering to look up as you reached for another bandage. “That a problem?”

“That’s a terrible reason, really.” he muttered, his lips twitching. “Not well thought out.”

“And if it is?” you asked, finally glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “Whatchu planning to do about it?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his sharp features softening in the warm glow of the room. The mischievous curl of your lips, the way you leaned in just slightly closer than you needed to—it was infuriating and endearing all at once.

“Dunno, really.” he said, his voice low but tinged with humor. “Maybe I’ll let you keep patching me up. You’re already doing such a stellar job here.”

You scoffed, giving his arm a light smack. “Ungrateful jerk.”

“Careful now.” he teased, his grin widening. “You keep calling me names, and I might start bleeding just to make you work harder.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” you shot back, laughing. “I’ll use glitter bandages next time. Make you look real tough.”

Sukuna chuckled, a rare sound that made your heart flip in your chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” he muttered.

“And you’re lucky I like fixing up dumbasses who can’t avoid getting hurt.” you replied, sticking the last bandage on his arm with an overly dramatic pat. “Done. Now, try not to get stabbed again for, like, a week, yeah?”

“No promises, babe.” he said, standing up and rolling his shoulders with a smirk. “But I’ll let you keep playing nurse if I do.”

“Deal.” you said, grinning. “As long as you don’t complain next time.”

“Not a chance.” Sukuna muttered, though the rare, genuine smile still lingered as he followed you out of the room.

As you finished packing away the first aid kit, Sukuna leaned casually against the chain wall, his usual confidence back in full swing. You glanced up at him, hesitating for a moment as you watched him flex his arm slightly, testing the bandages.

“You know, ’kuna.” you began, your voice softer than before, “I don’t just patch you up because I feel like it.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering. “What? Do you do it for practice or something?”

“No, no.” you said, laughing lightly. You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding, but you managed to hold his gaze. “I do it because I like you.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ryomen Sukuna looked genuinely stunned. His crimson eyes widened slightly, his usual sharp tongue momentarily silenced. He looked at you as the sly look in your face slowly melted into the tender demure one, blushing bright everywhere on you. But almost instantaneously, you got your resolve back.

“…What?” he finally said, the word coming out quieter than you’d expected.

“I like you, I said.” you repeated, more confidently this time. “Like, really like you. And not just because you let me fix you up after you inevitably get into trouble. I like you.”

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you worried you’d miscalculated, that maybe he didn’t feel the same way. But then, ever so slightly, his lips twitched.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low.

“Completely.” you said, crossing your arms with a grin. “What, is that so hard to believe? You’re not that bad, you know.”

His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his usually guarded expression. “…I didn’t think you were stupid enough to like someone like me.” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, stepping even closer to him. “Well, surprise! Turns out I’m just that stupid.”

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin finally breaking through. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re not saying anything about how you feel about this.” you teased, poking him lightly in the chest.

He smirked, grabbing your hand before you could poke him again. “Maybe I’ll keep you guessing.”

“Or maybe you’ll just admit you like me too, you know?” you shot back, leaning in slightly.

Sukuna sighed dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Fine. I like you too. Happy?”

You grinned. “Ecstatic.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush creeping up his neck didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely, hotshot.” you said, laughing.

Sukuna shook his head, but his rare, genuine smile lingered. “Yeah, well… don’t expect me to go easy on you just because I like you back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you said, winking back at him. “Now come on, I still want that sundae from the convenience store!”

And for the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t look like the untouchable, tough guy everyone thought he was.

He looked happy.

Too damn happy.

And it looked good on him.

Both of you enjoyed the quiet of your new bliss as much as possible. You both kept to yourselves most of the time, expanding on the adventures you already made as your routine. You both kept it discreet, and this time because you both weren’t ready for anyone to just know all about it. You wanted to keep Sukuna all to yourself. And in turn, he did too.

But despite your best efforts, secrets have a way of getting out.

The day everything changed was after Sukuna took on three older guys who thought they could corner him near the sports field. He walked away victorious, of course, but with a split lip and a bloodied brow. You rushed to his side without a second thought, cupping his face as the crowd murmured around you.

“You’re bleeding again, 'kuna.” you said, dabbing at the cut with a tissue from your bag.

“I’m fine.” he grumbled, though his eyes softened under your touch.

The crowd wasn’t subtle, not one bit.

“Wait... are they... together?”

“No way.”

“Her? With him?”

“She’s too good for that delinquent.”

Ryomen Sukuna heard every word, his jaw tightening. He was used to the judgment, but hearing it directed at you made his blood boil. He was ready to snap, to tell everyone to shut the hell up until you squeezed his hand.

“Let them talk their shit.” you said calmly, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care.”

The warmth in your voice melted the tension in his shoulders. You didn’t care. And that was enough.

From that day forward, Sukuna didn’t bother hiding how much he cared about you. He walked you to class, carried your bag when it was heavy, and glared down at anyone who dared look at you sideways. People whispered, of course, but no one was brave enough to say anything to his face.

You saw sides of him no one else did, one he only exposed to the person he held dearest. The one that devotedly belonged to you. And you kept him safe, closer than ever before. You started to build a puzzle, full of every bit of him, little by little.

The Sukuna who stole fries off your plate but always left you the last bite, who texted you to make sure you got home safe, even when you weren’t walking together, and who fought less often because you made him want to be better.

He was still rough around the edges, still intimidating to everyone else, that was true enough. But with you? He was just Sukuna. Your Sukuna. And that was all you ever wanted him to be.

Life did change after your relationship went public, though not as dramatically as you might have expected. Sukuna was still the notorious troublemaker with a penchant for glaring and intimidation.

You were still the person everyone was convinced was too good for him. But if anyone thought Ryomen Sukuna would mellow out completely, they were sorely mistaken. Especially now that you both were in the last year of high school.

That one afternoon, as the two of you walked home together, Sukuna stuffed his hands into his pockets, his usual scowl in place. “People still can’t believe you’re with me, y’know.” he muttered. “Heard some idiot today say you’re slumming it. Tch.”

You snorted, nudging his side. “Just jealous, ‘kuna. I’m pretty sure they can’t handle that the delinquent king got the best catch in school.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward slyly. “You think I’m the delinquent king? Sounds like I need a crown or something, don’t I?”

“Oh, please.” you teased. “If anyone’s getting a crown, it’s me. I’m obviously the one carrying this relationship, my love.”

Sukuna stopped dead in his tracks, dramatically clutching his chest. “Wow. Betrayed by my own girlfriend. After all the fights I didn’t start for your sake.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“You knew that going in.” he shot back, grinning now as he draped an arm over your shoulder.

The playful banter continued as you reached his house. You both planned to eat dinner together before he took you home. Your parents didn’t mind that you were coming home late, since they were also working.

And they understood that you were after the volleyball team manager. Though they didn’t know about how early you finished — primarily because Sukuna always ends practice early so he can spend more time with you before he takes you home.

Coming inside the house, he welcomes you inside. Sukuna carefully kicked off his shoes with a huff, flopping onto the couch like a cat claiming its territory. You followed him rather quickly, settling in beside him as he lazily tossed an arm around you.

“You know, my love, I’ve been thinking.” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “You’re actually kind of sweet when no one’s looking.”

“Don’t start spreading lies now.” he teased, his grin widening.

“Oh, I’m serious. Big bad Ryomen Sukuna, all soft and cuddly.”

He narrowed his scarlet eyes. “Say that again, and I’m carrying you out of here fireman style.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The next thing you knew, Sukuna had hoisted you up over his shoulder, laughing as you squealed and flailed. “Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!”

“Too late, babe.” he said smugly. “You called me soft. Now you’re getting evicted.”

“I live here half the time already!”

“Not anymore!”

Eventually, he relented, setting you back down with a grin that made your heart skip. You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” he said confidently, leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

“…Maybe.” you admitted with a smile.

He grinned triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

As much as the world still saw Ryomen Sukuna as the intimidating, wild Cursed King, you knew the truth. Beneath the scowl and reputation was a boy who loved fiercely, who fought for what mattered, and who never let go of the one person who saw the real him.

And honestly? That was more than enough for you.

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AFTER A YEAR AND A HALF, YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER FOUND OUT. The news broke just right before the typical family dinner on the Sunday. And you had wished it never happened. Because it just broke your heart to endure this.

There was a seemingly innocent comment from a well-meaning neighbor who talked with her high schooler daughter about how "Ryomen Sukuna from the volleyball team always walks you home." And naturally, that made your parents curious. A little digging here and there from the neighbor, it was out.

You could practically hear the record scratch when your mother paused mid-stir of the soup, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Your father, ever the stoic one, lowered his newspaper with a furrowed brow.

It didn’t take long for their disapproval to make itself crystal clear.

They didn’t care that Sukuna’s presence grounded you, that his gruff demeanor melted into rare softness when it was just the two of you. They didn’t see the boy who remembered the little things—how you liked your ramen without onions, your favorite snacks for stressful days, or how he always carried an extra umbrella just in case you forgot yours.

None of that mattered.

What they saw was a scowling boy with tattoos crawling up his arms and a reputation for fists that spoke louder than words. They didn’t hear his low, thoughtful hums as he followed the rhythm of the anime openings he adored, or his boyish grin when he perfectly timed his spikes on the volleyball court.

Your mother wrung her hands, pacing. “That boy—he’s nothing but trouble, I’m telling you. What future does someone like that have?”

“Volleyball captain or not, it doesn’t matter.” your father grunted. “He’s not the kind of person I want near my daughter.”

You clenched your fists under the table, biting your tongue until it hurt. They didn’t know him, not really. They didn’t know how he carefully patched you up after your own scrapes or how he walked at your pace, even when it was inconvenient for him.

They hadn’t seen him laugh, hadn’t heard his proud, slightly cocky declaration when you aced an important test: That’s my girl.

“I love him.” you said, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

Your mother looked at you as though you’d just confessed to a crime. “Love?” she repeated incredulously. “You’re too young to understand love, and especially with him.”

Your father’s jaw tightened. “You’ll end this nonsense immediately.”

“No.” you said firmly, standing up, your chair scraping against the floor. “I won’t.”

They didn't expect that.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you continued, trembling but resolute. “He’s not what you think. He’s kind, thoughtful, and he’s helped me become a better person. Just because he’s rough around the edges doesn’t mean he’s bad.”

“You’re throwing your future away for him?” your mother exclaimed, pacing across the living room.

“He’s nothing but trouble!” your father added, shaking his head. “We didn’t raise you to make these kinds of decisions.”

“I’m not throwing away anything!” you shouted back, voice shaking. “Sukuna’s not what you think he is. You don’t know him at all!”

“We know enough, daughter.” your mother said sharply. “Boys like him don’t change. They just drag you down with them.”

The words hit harder than you expected, cutting deep.

“Well, maybe I get to decide what my future looks like!” you shot back, tears blurring your vision. “And it’s none of your business who I love!”

Silence hung heavy in the air, thick with words that couldn’t be unsaid. Your parents’ faces were hard, unyielding, and it was clear there would be no convincing them tonight. Heart pounding, you grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your father demanded.

“Anywhere but here.” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t know where you were headed until your feet carried you right in front of Sukuna’s house. By the time you reached his door, your throat was raw from holding back sobs, and your chest felt like it was going to burst. You knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet evening.

The door carefully creaked open, revealing your Sukuna in sweatpants and a loose hoodie, hair messy like he’d just woken up from a nap. His sharp scarlet eyes softened when he saw you standing there with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Hey, babe.” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

“I ran away from home.” you blurted, voice trembling.

There was a beat of silence before he stepped aside. “Well, come in. Can’t you be out here in the cold.”

You shuffled inside, dropping your bag by the door as Sukuna closed it behind you.

“What happened?”

“Rough patch.” You whispered to your boyfriend. “.....So I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you as though he didn’t believe you. “You have a bag with you.”

“Okay, look. It was bad and I ran away.”

“You ran away?” he repeated, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Like, for real? With the dramatic door slam and everything?”

“Yes.” you muttered, sinking onto the couch. “My parents found out and…..they don’t like you.”

Sukuna snorted, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a parent’s dream, y’know. Shocking, I know.”

“They said you’d ruin my future, my love.” you admitted, voice cracking.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Harsh.”

“I told them they didn’t know you.” you continued, wiping your eyes. “But they didn’t care. They said they did. Like you were some villain or something.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I mean… I do kinda have the whole villain aesthetic going for me.”

You glared at him. “Not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” he said, though a small grin tugged at his lips. “So, what’s the plan now? Gonna fight me for the good spot on the couch and share my instant ramen?”

The absurdity of it made you laugh through your tears. “Sounds like a great future.”

Sukuna grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Your parents are probably losing their minds right now.”

“They’ll get over it….eventually.” you said stubbornly, though doubt lingered at the edge of your voice.

“Maybe so.” he agreed, his voice softer. “But if they don’t, you can stay here. I mean, I’m kind of a mess, but I’ve got room.”

“Really?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Yeah. You’re not so bad to have around.”

The bittersweet warmth in his words made your chest ache. “Thank you, my love. Really…..I’m lucky to have you.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Anytime, babe. Don’t worry about it.” he muttered, resting his cheek against your hair. “But, uh, just one rule.”

“What?”

“No eating all the good ramen flavors. I’m serious.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now. “Deal.”

As messy and uncertain as everything felt, sitting there with your Sukuna, so domestically and so enjoyable in the warmth of each other — everything about it didn’t seem so bad. If anything, it was a lot more than what you would expect. It was a life worth living.

The steam from Sukuna’s shower lingered in your skin as you stood by the fogged mirror, brushing your damp hair out of your face. The fight with your parents still sat heavy on your chest, but the warm water had washed away some of the weight. You exhaled slowly, steeling yourself before slipping into one of Sukuna’s oversized shirts that smelled faintly of laundry soap and him.

Padding out into the living room, you were met with the comforting aroma of something savory simmering in the kitchen. Sukuna stood at the stove, bare-chested except for a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, stirring a pot of miso soup. His hair was a mess, damp from the lingering humidity of the house.

“You cook?” you teased, leaning against the doorway with a raised brow.

He didn’t even look up. “Don’t sound so surprised now. Didn’t I cook you your lunch during festival week?”

“Oh! I thought that was store bought.” You teased him.

He raised a brow, amused. “Oh, is that so? How about I stop cooking—”

“No, no. Continue.”

He hums, moving closer to kiss your cheek. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

The casual affection in his voice settled something inside you. The warmth of his lips stayed tender against the pinkish hues of your cheeks. You looked at him for a moment. He shook his head and smiled, pointing at the dining table.

You nodded and sat at the small dining table, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. He plated rice into two porcelain bowls, poured the steaming miso soup into the smaller soup bowls, and set them down in front of you with a clink.

“Nothing fancy, babe. Sorry about that. I didn’t get to the grocery today. Practice lasted longer today.” he said, sitting across from you. “But it’s good to curb the cold from you, since it’s warm.”

“Don’t worry about it, my love. It’s more than perfect.” you murmured sincerely.

The first spoonful was simple but comforting, warmth spreading through you as you ate in comfortable silence. It was just like a hug, like your beloved boyfriend’s tender hug. You hummed as he watched you eat. Soon enough, Sukuna ate with his usual ease, occasionally glancing up at you as if to check if you were okay.

“So……” he said after a while, leaning back in his chair. “Are you really not going home tonight?”

Your spoon froze midway to your mouth. “I don’t know. Not tonight. And…..Maybe not for a while.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Then what? Are you moving in with me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I mean, I don’t….mind.” he shrugged at you nonchalantly. “We’re young, yeah, but if that’s what you want, I’m not against it.”

“You’re not?” you asked, stunned by how easily he said it.

“Nah.” he said firmly. “If you’re here, I’m gonna live my life taking responsibility for you.”

Your breath caught as the gentle pink in your cheeks turned cherry red. “Sukuna—”

“I’m serious, babe.” he cut in, his voice softer now but unwavering. “You just walked out on everything for me. That’s not small, you know? I have to do the same. So I’m gonna make sure you’re happy, whatever it takes. I’ll figure it out. You’re my one and only for the rest of our lives.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, brutish tears blurred your vision, and before you knew it, the spoon clattered onto the table as you stood up. Sukuna blinked in surprise as you stumbled blindly around the table and threw yourself into his arms.

His chair scraped back as he stood to catch you, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling form. “Whoa, hey.” he murmured, sounding a little panicked. “What’s this? Are you crying on me now?”

“You’re such an idiot, you’re such an idiot!” you sniffled against his shoulder, voice thick with emotion. “But I love you so much.”

He froze for half a second before laughing, warm and genuine. “Yeah? Well, I love you too, idiot.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, your tears still clinging to your lashes. His grin was crooked, soft in a way that made your chest ache with affection. He takes in the look of you, with that devoted haze that could only be once in a lifetime.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now, huh?” he teased, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, yeah.” you whispered, smiling through your tears. “For the rest of our lives.”

Sukuna grinned, pulling you back into a hug. “That’s good to hear.” he murmured against your hair. “Cause you know that’s exactly what I want, hm?”

In that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and the future uncertain, you felt the tears well away and calm take over you. With this love, this warmth, this man — somehow everything just felt less frightening. And it made you feel so lucky.

So goddamn lucky to live, to have this love. This life. Because you knew that no matter how messy things got, you’d be okay as long as you had each other. As long as you had Sukuna, you’d be alright.

══════════════════

THE MORNING WAS RATHER UNEVENTFUL. Well, that was until the blue hour huddled through the capricious skies. The knock at Sukuna’s door was heavy and deliberate, filled with the weight of everything unresolved.

You stiffened instantly, your heart thudding against your ribs as you glanced toward the window. Your breath caught when you saw them—your parents standing stiffly on the porch, your father’s expression hard and unreadable, your mother fidgeting with the strap of her purse.

“It’s them, my love.” you whispered, stepping back as a lump formed in your throat.

Sukuna, drying a dish at the sink, glanced up and set the towel down with calm purpose. “Your parents?” he asked, his tone neutral.

You nodded, unable to form words. “I don’t want to see them, not right now.” you muttered finally, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Sukuna’s sharp eyes softened as he walked toward you. He placed a warm hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to, babe.” he said quietly.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived as he made his way to the door. “What are you doing?” you asked in a panic.

He glanced back at you, a small, reassuring grin tugging at his lips. “Gonna talk to them.”

“Ryomen Sukuna—”

“Hey, hey. Just trust me, okay?” he said gently, giving you a tender gaze. “I’ve got this.”

Before you could stop him, he opened the door and stepped outside, closing it softly behind him. Your heart raced as you crept toward the window, peeking through the curtain.

Your parents stood rigidly on the porch, their expressions guarded but uncertain. Sukuna stood tall, almost so proud, with his broad-shouldered and unflinching, meeting their gazes with calm confidence.

“I see you’ve come.” he greeted politely, his usual sharp edge tempered by something respectful but firm.

“Where is our daughter?” your father demanded, his voice gruff and commanding.

“She’s inside my house.” Sukuna said evenly. “But she doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Your mother’s face faltered. “We just want to talk to her.”

Sukuna nodded, understanding in his expression. “I get that, mam. I really do.” he said calmly, “But I also get why she’s upset. I know I’m not exactly the kind of guy parents dream of for their kid. I know that much. ”

Your father’s frown deepened, but Sukuna stood his ground.

“I’m not here to make excuses for myself.” Sukuna continued, his voice steady. “I’ve been in fights, well I used to. I’ve stopped, ever since me and her dated. But I know that I’ve got a reputation, and I know how that looks to you. But I need you to know this—” he took a deep breath, his voice unwavering, “I love your daughter. And only her.”

Your mother’s lips parted in surprise, but Sukuna wasn’t finished.

“She might not move back home with you and that’s her choice, I respect that from her.” he said, glancing between them. “But I want you to know that she’s safe with me. I’ll take care of her."

He only continues when they didn't speak. "I’ll make sure she’s never hungry, never sick, and that she always has a roof over her head. I’ve got a job, and it pays well enough for a graduating high school student. And my parents wouldn’t mind having her here either.”

Your parents were stunned, the weight of his words settling over them. Even from behind the window, you could see the cracks forming in their defenses. Sukuna’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“I hope that clears things up, mam, sir.” he said simply. “I love your daughter. I really do. I hope you see that. I hope you see that I’ll always live and breathe for her.”

Silence stretched between them. Your father cleared his throat, clearly at a loss for words. Your mother’s eyes glistened, though she remained quiet. Sukuna dipped his head respectfully at them. He knows they would need time to process all that.

“Thank you for coming, really.” he said gently. “You can come see her anytime if she’s ready. But for now, let’s respect what she needs. Please.”

With that, he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. You stood frozen, tears welling up in your weary eyes as Sukuna leaned casually against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

He takes a soft breath before he looks back at you, almost too shyly. Almost like he wants to hide away as the warm scarlet of his eyes echoed on his cheeks too. “You heard all that, huh?” he asked, voice low but amused.

“You’re unbelievable, my love.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

His lips quivered into a lopsided grin. “In a good way, I hope.”

Without thinking, you surged forward, throwing your arms around him and holding him tightly. Sukuna hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his warmth enveloping you completely.

“I love you. So so much.” you murmured into his shoulder, your voice breaking.

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Yeah? Well, I love you too. Always.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which softened in a way they rarely did. You don’t think you’ve ever felt love like this, not even before when you had crushes. Or not even when you fell in love for the first time. In a way, Sukuna had made his own category in your heart, in your soul. He was irreplaceable, he always will be.

“Thank you, for being in my life. I don’t know how I’d be without you.” you whispered, the weight of everything he’d done settling over you.

He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t thank me, babe.” he said with a grin. “This is just what you do when you love someone, right?”

You hummed back at him. You felt his hands drift through your hair, slowly letting the strands slip through his fingers in a careful caress. He kisses your temple, meeting your eyes. Your chest ached, full to the brim with affection for the boy who had always stood by you, fierce and unyielding.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?” you said softly.

“Damn right, babe.” he teased, pulling you back into his arms. “Forever or nothing.”

══════════════════

epilogue

This year’s championship dinner was already wild, perhaps even wilder than the last year. Well, that was to be expected, especially with Captain Ryomen Sukuna negotiating the afterparty budget with the university himself — and considering he was bringing in the best result the university ever had in sports, why wouldn’t he get the big afterparty budget?

There was so much of the abundant hotpot bubbling at every table, plate after plate stacked high as if it's attempting to reach heaven, and the varsity volleyball team loud with post-victory energy.

Ryomen Sukuna, however, was in his own world, calmly devouring hotpot like the unbothered menace he was, chopsticks working methodically through noodles. And that you expected. Your boyfriend was exhausted.

You, meanwhile, had everyone's full attention as you dramatically told the story.

“So there I was, the most beautiful person alive.” you said, waving your chopsticks like a microphone. “I was just standing in Sukuna’s living room, freaking out because my parents showed up. And I told Sukuna I didn’t want to see them. What does this guy do?”

You pointed dramatically at him and he didn't even look up. “He walks outside, so brave with his barefoot, like some rom-com protagonist, and tells my dad—who, by the way, looks like he grills steaks with his bare hands sort of energy—”

“Big dad energy, got it, got it.” Vice Captain Gojo Satoru interjected, already wheezing.

“—‘I love your daughter, and I’ll always live for her!’” you said, attempting to mimic your Sukuna’s gruff tone.

Setter Geto Suguru slapped the table, howling. “Nah, stop it. THE Captain Ryomen Sukuna? Mister ‘I’ll spike a volleyball through your face if you breathe wrong?’ Are you sure?”

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “He even told them he had a job that already pays well and that his parents wouldn’t mind me moving in with them!”

Middle Blocker Nanami Kento choked on his drink, covering his mouth with a fist. “There’s no way this is real. There’s….There’s just really no way we’re talking about the same guy, senpai.”

Fellow Middle Blocker Fushiguro Megumi blinked, his brain visibly glitching. “The same Sukuna who made us do suicide drives on the balls he spikes because Yuuji said practice was ‘lowkey chill’?”

“Yes! I'm very serious about how this happened, guys!” you grinned.

Libero Itadori Yuuji was face down on the table, banging his fist. He was trying not to laugh, but all the same failing with great effort. “I can’t breathe! I’m so….I’m so sorry, senpai! This… this is ridiculous! Captain gave a Ted Talk on responsible boyfriend duties?”

“And he ended it with, ‘I hope that clears things up.’ Like he was closing a business meeting!” you said, nearly wheezing. “I really wish our phones today were there for recording. I would have avoided the trouble of not being believed!”

Suguru wiped tears from his eyes. “Bro, this is it. This is damn good soup. Amazing poetry. We gotta frame this, oh my god.”

“I’m making it our new team motto, guys!” Satoru declared between gasps. “Right before every match—‘I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER AND I’LL ALWAYS LIVE FOR HER!’”

Megumi groaned loudly, head in his hands. “This is my nightmare. I should have joined another team, this is horrible.”

Meanwhile, Captain Ryomen Sukuna hadn’t flinched once, calmly stirring his hotpot like this was all beneath him. He slurped some noodles, glanced up, and deadpanned, “You’re all idiots.”

“That’s Mr. Idiot to you, Captain.” Satoru quipped.

Suguru grinned wickedly. “We’re getting matching shirts. I think we still have an afterparty budget, no? It would be great practice shirts! The tagline in bold has to be like ‘Property of the Captain: Loves Someone’s Daughter, Lives for Her.’”

“Shut the hell up, Geto. You’re so annoying!” Sukuna muttered, jabbing at the hotpot with his chopsticks.

“C’mon, my love. This is really great, no?” you teased sweetly.

His chopsticks froze mid-air. Slowly, he turned his head, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand serves. “You’re walking home later.” he deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, senpai!” Satoru cackled, looking at Sukuna and winked. “I’ll give you a ride—to help out my love here!”

The entire table exploded into chaos as Sukuna sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was already regretting even arranging the afterparty. And most of all, letting all of you be friends and letting them rub off even more sly behaviour to you.

“You’re all getting extra laps tomorrow. And you’ll have to run faster! Or you’ll get benched for the next practice match with Kyoto!” he grumbled, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The current threat caused the entire team scattered about in the restaurant in various tables to erupt in groans. At the very least no one was looking at them weird, the whole restaurant was rented. But the chaos ensued, people standing up and arguing that practice should be cancelled tomorrow since you just won.

Everything was practically in shambles, with Yuuji sliding halfway off his chair, still gasping for breath, still laughing. He was the only one still, besides Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Of course that’s to be expected. Itadori Yuuji seemed to be certainly not human with his records.

“Bro, Captain.” he wheezed, pointing shakily at Sukuna, still laughing. “The mental image of you standing there, barefoot, saying ‘I love your daughter and I’ll live for her’— I’m done. I’m tapping out. It’s so corny."

“Straight to the history books, Cap!” Suguru added, wiping tears from his eyes. “Future captains need to hear this legend. Seriously.”

“Coach is gonna cry laughing when he hears about this. I can’t believe he missed this because of a phone call.” Satoru snickered. “Imagine the look on his face when we put it on our team banner.”

He stood, mimicking a grand reveal. “‘National University Varsity Volleyball Champions! Their motto? We Love Your Daughter and We’ll Live For Her!’”

“You know what…..Let’s just not have shame, at this point. Put it on the team jackets, on the tumblers. On the balls. Just put it on there. Everything!” Megumi groaned, his head in his hands. Nanami Kento pours him a cup of sake. “Might as well go all the way.”

“Shut it, Fushiguro.” Sukuna muttered darkly, stabbing a piece of tofu as though it owed him money. “None of you are funny.”

“Oh, but my love, we are!” Satoru teased, leaning in with a mischievous grin.

Sukuna slammed his chopsticks down with a loud clack. “I don’t care what the coach says tomorrow. We have practice tomorrow. Three hours. No breaks.”

The table collectively gasped.

You snickered under your cup of sake.

Sukuna remains unfazed about it all.

“Captain, please don't do this!” Yuuji begged suddenly, his bright eyes widened. “I have weak joints!”

“You’re built like a tank, and you were laughing about this like you don’t have an issue with it. So stand proud, Itadori.” Sukuna deadpanned, continuing to eat hotpot. “Suck it up.”

“You know this is just making it worse, right?” you whispered to him, grinning.

He gave you a flat look. “You’re definitely walking home.”

“I’ll take you home, senpai—” Satoru happily chirped.

Sukuna’s eye twitched. “Shut up before I spike your face, Gojo.”

Nanami Kento, who had been quietly sipping his sake throughout the madness, finally sighed. “Honestly, I think it’s romantic.” he said with a shrug.

Everyone froze, stunned.

You almost choked on your next cup of sake.

“Nanami Kento.” Suguru said slowly, snickering as he drank. “Did you just say something sappy?”

“I’ve had a long day, okay? I’m crashing out, let me be.” Nanami muttered, looking vaguely ashamed. Just as Fushiguro had earlier. Fushiguro Megumi refills his senpai’s cup. “And the booze isn’t helping. God damn it.”

The laughter and the badgering started all over again, louder and more chaotic than before. Sukuna, despite his threats, couldn’t entirely hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning toward you, he muttered under his breath. You turned your heat at him, meeting his warm eyes.

“If they don’t shut up, I’m taking this hotpot home and eating it alone.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “It’s okay, my love. You’ll live for me, right?”

He groaned. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never, lover boy.” you grinned.

He could only sigh as you leaned against him, happily looking at everyone being passionate in arguing against practice tomorrow once again. You giggled as you started to talk with them again. And in that rowdy, absurd, chaotic moment surrounded by chaos, Ryomen Sukuna realized—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is life worth living, after all.

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svnluns · 2 days ago

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come over ; b.eilish ✧₊⁺

She was a dream come true. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my whole life. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and the fact that she was my neighbor wasn’t helping.

I was lying on the sofa, daydreaming about her with a bottle of wine next to me. It was my third rewatch of Gossip Girl. A Friday night—my favorite kind of night. Everything was quiet, and so was my mind. I was at peace.

I leaned over to the table to pour myself another glass when I heard a knock on the door. With a sigh, I got up, rolling my eyes, adjusting my black silky robe, and heading toward the door with my glass still in my hand.

When I opened the door, I tried not to let my expression betray me when I saw Billie standing there.

She was so pretty. Her long, shiny brown hair cascaded down her back, and as always, she was wearing oversized clothes that somehow only made her look more effortlessly beautiful.

"Hey, Billie. How can I help you?" I asked with a genuine smile.

She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, uh... my heater is broken, and my landlord isn't answering. I was wondering if I could crash here for a bit? Just until I figure something out?"

My heart did an embarrassing little flip, but I kept my cool. "Of course. Come in."

Billie stepped inside, hugging her oversized hoodie closer to her body. I closed the door behind her, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but a robe.

"Thanks," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "My apartment is freezing, and I didn't know where else to go."

I closed the door behind her, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at her proximity. "You want some wine?" I asked, making my way back to the couch.

She hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, sure."

I poured her a glass, the rich burgundy liquid reflecting the dim lights. She took it from me, her fingers brushing mine briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

We sat down, the silence between us heavy but not uncomfortable. She tucked her legs underneath her, curling into the corner of the couch as she sipped from her glass.

"You always keep it so warm in here," she commented, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of her glass.

I chuckled softly. "Perks of being prepared for impromptu guests."

A small smile played on her lips as she relaxed into the cushions, her guard lowering with each sip of wine. The air between us shifted, the weight of unspoken words and stolen glances filling the space.

Without thinking, I reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered a moment too long, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. Her breath hitched, her eyes darkening as they locked onto mine.

The room felt impossibly small, the distance between us shrinking with every passing second. My gaze dropped to her lips—soft, inviting, and so close.

Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, I leaned in. Her eyes fluttered closed as our mouths met, the kiss tentative at first—a gentle brush of lips that sent warmth flooding through me.

But then her hand found its way to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. I tasted the sweet remnants of wine on her lips, the softness of her mouth making my head spin.

When we finally broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Neither of us spoke, letting the silence speak for us instead.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x y/n

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immafuneral · 3 days ago

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I genuinely hope you don't mind me adding onto this post, but- On one hand, I really want to agree with this- I think it's so important to give people grace and the room and space to learn and grow, sometimes people aren't hateful, they're just uneducated and underexposed. Sometimes we ARE responsible for holding their hand through it and teaching them with kindness, patience and empathy. Do we owe it to them? No. But that's the only way that we're going to see positive change in people. No, it's not always going to work, it's not a guarantee, sometimes you ARE just wasting your energy on someone who will always choose hate and ignorance... But shame and rejection only pushes people further into stronger belief in the extremes they're being taught... Meaning to say, it goes both ways. On the other... I don't know man, I'm so tired. It's so hard to hold onto that belief when living in the US right now. It's so hard to tell myself that people need grace, they need help to improve, they need compassion- Proof that we aren't everything the truly hateful bigots say we are. I'm so angry, at the people who chose that fucking fascist as our president not out of hatred but out of ignorance, because that DOES make them just as bad. Their decisions have still lead to me living with the fear that I am going to be killed, alongside everyone I love... I think about how many of them might NOT have voted for him if they had someone in their life who was willing to empathize with and explain to them what they were actually choosing. When we treat it like- "Well they should have known!!- It should have been common sense!!!" Or "That's what we've been screaming about throughout the campaign!" Spreading that information is not the same as being with someone and walking through it on an individual, compassionate way. The same way your parents ask you things and you get frustrated at them because, why can't they just google it? They could google it, sure, and that might be a lot more convenient for you, because YOU'RE just going to google it.. But they're asking you because you're someone they trust and google is overwhelming to someone who isn't used to having this much information in their face, at their fingertips, all at once. They don't have the ability to discern reality from unreality on the internet. Why would the things they're reading, the news articles (propaganda) and posts they're seeing be untrue? But, unlike the Christian Missionaries, I live in a world where letting people outside of my bubble into my life is genuinely putting me at risk for being who I am- And I know that a lot of people feel the same right now. So where to we find the balance? How do we decide when it's safe, and when it's not safe? When do we have to decide that we do it anyway? Even if we know we're taking a risk?

So, you know how certain Christian missionaries are trained to act in a very obnoxious way, so that most people they preach to will reject them outright, so they feel like the world hates them for being Christian and they can only be friends with fellow Christians? You know that thing?

I think as activists, we sometimes need to stop and ask ourselves whether we're acting like those missionaries. I think this type of behavior is a little more ingrained into our society than some of us realize, and some of us have internalized it without realizing what it's actually meant to do.

#politics #donald trump

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weirdero · 2 days ago

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I want to talk about Helena’s performance as Helly and her deep rooted misunderstanding of who Helly is as a person. And just in general how I think she perceives her especially after yesterday’s episode.

Helena is incredibly attentive, almost to the point of being terrifying. In the short moments she interacts with anyone, everything in her head is already scripted, calculated, and premeditated. She’s also a great method actress, reacting based on the energy around her. It’s like a stand up comic, constantly adjusting their performance to make sure their actions land. If something doesn’t click, she shifts.

Throughout the past couple of episodes, Helena spends most of her time just trying to go with the flow move with the water, trying to fit in without standing out, constantly monitoring the group and their reactions at every turn. And so far, she was good at it. She can play the part, until her own emotions towards helly start to blind her.

In these two pics she does a quick scan of Irving’s and Marks faces trying to analyze their reactions

Helena knows the group loves Helly. She knows Mark loves Helly. And honestly, I’d bet every dollar in my bank account that it genuinely makes her want to kill herself. She has zero respect for Helly, and she doesn’t need to. To Helena, Helly, and by extension, the group, are low value. Insignificant. At her highest, Helly is just a worker, a cheap extension of herself created with the sole purpose of just being a good employee to be displayed to the public as a little shining lumon puppet. But shit, the bitch can’t even do that. She’s done quite the opposite. So yeah, not a person to be respected or valued.

This particular disdain (and fuck it, I’m just gonna say hate) that Helena carries for Helly spills into the bonfire scene with Milchick.

While Milchick is reading the story, enunciating every word like a second grade elementary school teacher, showing pictures like they’re in a reading circle, I kept wondering to myself if Helena ever experienced something similar to this as a child. How many times has she heard this same story? Or hell, any other old Kier mythology? Lumon, Kier, the Eagan legacy, it’s all she’s ever known. This world is nothing new to her.

Even though I believe Helena is a loyal servant, she probably didn’t love all the weird shit she had to put up with in her childhood. The weight of the Egan legacy probably suffocates her. But she accepted it either way because that was the life she was given. Unlike fucking helly. Fucking helly who’s forced her into this situation to begin with. In my opinion, all of these particular feelings make their way into Helena’s reaction to the story as Helly, which could only be described as a middle schooler who suddenly thinks they’re too old for camp.

I saw this post someone made about this scene, and like shit, yeah, that’s probably right. Helena had one chance to shit on the weird religion that’s been shoved down her throat since birth and she took that chance.

Helena, in this moment, settles for crude, mocking jokes. She probably does this partially out of her own selfish need for Mark’s validation, as well as playing her role trying to fit into the group but I also think it’s a great reflection of her own personal feelings toward Helly. Helly, who would’ve never acted that way. Helly, who is many things, but never cruel. Helena doesn’t seem to understand that. For the moment, Helena takes a step back, flanderizes Helly, reducing her to this cheeky, crude, disruptive little jokester. That’s how Helena views her. With no respect. No nuance. Helly has layers Helena does not care to see. Helly doesn’t just break rules; she actively causes chaos, subverting everything around her. She’s purposefully, and happily, malcontent. A bitch, dare I say, an ungrateful bitch, most likely from Helena’s point of view.

Irving, who keeps testing her, makes her slip a little more. I talked about this a little bit in my last post about severance, but Helena doesn’t take well to being disrespected. She shifts from wanting the group’s (and mostly Mark’s) validation to just wanting to put Irving in his fucking place. These people aren’t equal to her in her mind. They aren’t cut from the same cloth probably not even made from the same fabric. There are levels to this shit, and they are not on her level.

She says what she says. It’s cruel. Mostly, it’s stupid on her part.

And just like Irving said later, and what I said earlier Helly was many things, but…

What Helena did at the bonfire was a fuck up. An especially surprising one coming from a woman as controlling and calculated as her. I’m fully convinced all those little mistakes came from a deep frustration within her. Much of that anger, in my opinion, is stewing from the realization that Helly, someone created by her, literally the source of all of Helena’s recent problems, someone who will stop at nothing to take her down, that person, the woman who’s literally locked up inside her, is more free than she will ever be.

Yes, Helena has no respect for Helly. Yes, she most likely hates that bitch. But when she herself is acting as Helly, it gives her the opportunity to almost let go. She gets the chance to essentially kill the bitch that’s been fucking up her life whilst simultaneously getting a chance to talk to this man who cares so deeply for a version of herself she hates, Even if it’s not the most ideal of situations (it’s not), it’s still something. I think, at the bonfire, she reflects on the ridiculous situation she’s found herself. All this shit caused by some other version of herself that she created, that situation plus all the other shit going down at Lumon is probably alot. And it just all bubbles up inside her. And when she’s given even the smallest opportunity to let anything out, she’s going to take it.

Idk it’s therapeutic in a way I guess.

She’s unfiltered, blunt, and almost carefree in a way that’s shocking almost unsettling. It’s clearly how she sees Helly to some degree, but also her own need to scratch an itch she’s never dared to before. And even though it’s an act of “Helly”, it still leaves a clear aftertaste of Helena.

Keep thinking about these two little moments whilst she’s making her jokes she not only keeps checking on mark’s reaction but also seems to laugh at her self in a way that just seems so genuine almost self deprecating. She acknowledges the ridiculousness of her situation and this dumb ass story she’s probably heard a million times

In my last post about Severance, I mentioned that Helena is the master of speaking her truth without outright saying it. She hides behind walls, but as Helly, she’s free to speak without restraint.

(Also her having sex with mark is a clear way of her expressing this new found freedom with in her role as helly but ima talk about that later)

#severance season 2 #severance #helena eagan #helly r #mark severance #mark scout #character analysis because I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS WOMAN.#Britt lower is literally INSANE her acting capabilities are crazy I hope she gets all the awards all of them #character analysis #long post cus I LOVE TO TALK

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omgfangirlland · 1 day ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 10

Added dividers because I felt like the time skip/scene change would become confusing without any indication of it.

I really need an answer on how y'all feel about Immortal x Dupli-kate cuz depending on the popular opinion stuff will change 🤐 I'm willing to split a lot of people up for the drama and/or miscommunication nonsense

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 10 >>next(TBC)

Some place where the supernatural meets the normal, a little place called The Oblivion Bar, John Constantine simply sat shocked at the words he managed to hear and process through his mushed brain. Bobo closes his hung jaw, drinks his whiskey, and pats his friend’s shoulder as the man mumbles a sobering spell, cringing at the effects. “I should go. Good luck, John.” And so, the chimpanzee quickly makes his exit, leaving the Laughing Magician and Death of the Endless to their business.

“I need you to walk me through this again, luv- wasn’t quite paying attention.” Constantine shook his head as he fully turned to face the smiling entity. “You and who did what?!” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to bring attention to what they were saying. This was bad. Really bad.

“Lady Gotham and I took a liking to Batman’s youngest daughter and-“ John quickly interrupted her. “And gave her magical powers beyond my comprehension and immortality- yes, I heard that, did you?!” The man rubbed his face, the thought was making him want to get drunk until he dropped. ”Have you gone mad? Giving a mortal immortality is more of Dream’s style you should know better-“

Death only smiled at him, amusement filling her eyes as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder making him tense up. “She was lonely, she deserves every happiness those powers and eternity are bound to give her. You’ll understand once you see her.” And boy, did John laugh his gut out at that as he shook his finger. “No- no, no, no- there’s no way I insert myself into that mess- Bat’s family is already a mess and reeks of you without magic- No- There’s no way- that’s bonkers-“

Death gets up with a bright smile. “Thank you, John.” Her words make him stutter almost choking on his breath at the audacity. “Don’t thank me ya loon! I’m not going to help her, I’m not even going to see the moppet!” He can only yell and cuss as she leaves.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Alright, Cecil-“ The old man immediately interrupted you, the little communication device in your ear buzzing with life as he told you to not use names. “… Dude… I’m miles in the air, first of all! Second, that was like a really common name once. it’ll take a while to find you specifically, and I doubt anyone could anyway- you seem like the type that would erase himself from the gov’s documents.”

“Anyway-“ You didn’t give him time to say anything else. “What house am I supposed to go to again? And why?”

The old man sighs at your antics, rubbing the side of his forehead as he feels the headache coming while he gives the address once more. “Your brother’s teacher, Mr. Hiles, has been the mall bomber. It took us a while, he was smart about it, kept his search into biological bomb-making off the internet but he wasn’t that thorough about his paper trail.”

“Be prepared for anything and a confrontation.” The older man cleared his throat. You always made him nervous; you were an unexpected equation in everything, something he couldn’t control without risking Earth. Donald and everyone else just took his weariness and suspicion as him being overly cautious, but Cecil could tell something was clinging to you that just gave him nightmares.

“And thank you- usually I would have sent someone from the Teen Team but…uh-“ His eyes followed the action on another screen. “They’re busy. Your brother and father are helping them.”

“You’re nervous. Yapping again. Chill, I’ll take care of it. Just because I don’t want to be your little puppet doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep people safe.” You found the man irritating, but for now, he was being sane, actually doing his job, so you couldn’t complain. “Getting closer to the target. Going dark.” Was the only warning the man got before the com was powered off.

Finally ready to land you politely greeted the man, walking through the training both Cecil and Nolan provided at the start of your vigilantism. “I didn’t expect to get caught quite this early, and I certainly expected… more conventional authorities when the time did come.” Professor Hiles just sighs and welcomes you in by your birth name. “How did you-“

“Are you kidding me? Mark is unable to shut up about you. And you forget to wear your hood more times than you do wear it.” The man said as he took off his sweater. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the fourth missing student. I assure you, I have no intention of resisting.” Well… This was easier than expected.

As he started to confess about how he started doing this, he led you to his basement. “Mr. Hiles, while I understand the loss of a child to suicide, a divorce, and the loss of a job ruined you until you hit rock bottom, avenging your son like this-“

“I’m not avenging the death of my son. That would be far too cliché.” Your eyes landed on the teen strapped to the table once he turned on the light, breath hitching as you saw the skin of his arms merging sloppily with the metallic torso the professor modified. “It’s the destruction of my life that has me seeking revenge.”

“The domino effect of pain and sorrow that these monsters create. Children who spend too much time at the mall, attend parties, consume alcohol, and play sports when they should be studying and doing homework.”

“I understand your ire, I’m not one for parties or drunks, but not all kids who do that stuff go to extremes, that’s a flawed logic- it does not give you the right to play god and do-“ You tried to placate him, keeping your tone soft and even, to try and make him see reason. “What I did to all of them, turning them into living bombs, an instrument with which to exact my revenge… my crusade to end the pain and sorrow by these- ‘popular’ kids… I feel no guilt for.”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate end to my crusade-” Mr. Hiles ripped open the shirt he was wearing, revealing the same mechanism the unconscious teen had. “-than the death of a superhero!” You quickly acted, not letting him talk more beyond that as the timer set to 50 seconds started trickling down while you grabbed him, breaking through his ceilings and roof and flying high in the air.

“Is this really how you want to die? Suicide bomb? You still can make this right- you don’t have to die like this just tell me how to deactivate it!“ Your eyes remained on the clock. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The man just chuckled a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it. There is nothing for me anymore.” Five, four, three.

You couldn’t tell if what you felt was sorrow or shame, but you knew you were defeated. The man was going to get one final death, but it won’t be yours. As your flight came to a stop well above the clouds, you threw the man higher in front of you as the clock struck one second, and as it hit zero, the bomb detonated, the range and heat of the explosion destroying any remains while pushing you back a bit.

Your eyes remained on the cloud of smoke it created. If the cops found him before you did, the bomb would have wiped out the neighbors, too. That’s what hero life was, what it is. Sacrifices left and right that only made you feel more at odds with this job than before.

As you went back to the house, you activated the com, putting it back into your ear. Cecil immediately informs you that the police are en route as well as his clean-up team. “Get an explosive ordnance disposal technician, too. There is a teen in the basement, the bomb doesn’t seem active yet, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll send a report of what happened soon.” You stayed until Cecil’s people showed up, just to be sure the boy was still breathing and that the bomb wouldn’t activate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helping Brit and the other heroes clean up the rubble from the alien attack helped keep your mind off things. The Brit enjoyed talking about his kid and wife, yapping until he needed to take a breath and then starting again keeping a smile on your face.

You enjoyed helping clean up, especially when there were no casualties, today wasn't that type of day. But it had become the easy, relaxing part of the job, pick big rubble up, place it into the waste trucks, pick another piece up, make sure to not hit the man in the trench coat, put it in the waste- wait…

Your head snaps back to the man, squinting as your eyes meet. You each take a second to take each other in before your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello, luv. I’m-“ You couldn’t help your excitement as recognition finally settled into your brain. “I know you-“ Your words made John cringe and tense up. When others said that it never ended well for him. “You’re Johnny Con-Job, the lead singer for Mucous Membrane, dude, your band got me into the punk culture.”

That… wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of that or fight back the mental breakdown that was creeping up his spine. “You’re a bit young for that slop, no?” You just shrug. “Your songs got me to finally put myself first, to get the courage to sneak out, see other stuff beyond the walls of my first house, help others, and leave my neglectful family before they could seriously hurt me.” Her words worried him. John never took Bruce as the “lock his kids up” type, but the man was as paranoid as they came, he wouldn’t put that above him.

“It may be slop and shitty vocals, but it’s what I needed to hear.” You teased him while putting the rubble in the waste collector. He watched as you approached him with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. He could see what Death meant. “I need to talk to you. I’m not quite sure about what luv, but I think it’s about Batman-“ He didn’t get to finish, as soon as the name left his mouth, he was grabbed by the throat and lifted well above the clouds, way too close to the ozone layer. “Did he send you?” you hissed, giving his neck a warning squeeze.

Yup. He definitely saw what Death meant as your eyes glowed a Lazarus green. “Nno-“ He choked out. “Did Bruce Wayne send you?” her question was met with the same answer. Your grip softened, grabbing him by his coat instead of his neck as you brought him closer. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk in private…” He whispered as he realized the situation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This was a whole mess that John Constantine knew he should have stayed out of- he knew! From Bruce to the whole family basically ignoring the kid, not even telling her about the vigilantism, to the rogues taking her in and doing a better job of raising her to her running away and getting adopted by another hero- a hero that John knew wanted to conquer the world, the whole fucking race wanted to, the fucking demons had a problem with that and wouldn’t stop complaining to him like he can fix it- he takes a deep breath in. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He whined, rubbing his face as he sat on the edge of some skyscraper with you.

“I’m not hiding my past, I’ll happily snitch and tell a reporter that Bruce Wayne is a shit father, they all just assume I’m Nolan’s actual kid that was in the hospital for a deadly something or whatever.” You shrug. “Please don’t- not because I care about the bellend- I just don’t want to deal with… Huh. Now that I’m thinking about it, that may be great blackmail.” His words only made you snicker.

He didn’t know where to begin. Did she know about the Viltrumite? Was she in cahoots with him? Should he tell her any of that? Would she even believe his ass? Maybe he should get the JL involved...

The scruffy man shook his head. “Not why I’m here. You said your hero name is Sorceress? Great, so you know you have magic powers, that makes it easy-“ John took in your shocked expression. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, it never could be. “If this was another world, I’d call you crazy.” You told him simply. “But Midnight City is cursed, and I guess that makes sense… Is that why I can hear the shadows speak?”

John nodded before doing a double take, asking you to elaborate on the shadows speaking part. “They just speak, whisper, giggle the whole thing. They can also emit what they feel. They’ve always been present, they’re not as strong here, but I think that’s because they’re more tied to Gotham and Midnight City… or just- where there is more darkness.”

“Well, you’re not far off there, love.” The man nodded in agreement as his eyes drifted to the dark dome around the cursed city. He knew where to start. “This is going to be a long explanation, you better strap in, hen, and let me finish before you ask questions.”

“You remember the painting and murals you made of gods and other entities, demons, angels, the whole sort, in Gotham and here? Yeah, they brought the attention to you from the entities you drew. Some of the moppets took them as a higher form of offering than others, a few of them decided to stick around you.”

“Those have also decided to- ‘bless’ you with a few gifts, I’m not sure of all of them, but I know specifically that Lady Gotham offered the shadows as a companion and protector, and I know that Death of the Endless has blessed you with… well, immortality.” There was no way of walking around that fact. “I don’t remember if any of these two also gave you your powers, I was quite sloshed, but someone did.” John looked at the kit, taking in her shocked expression before he nudged you a bit. “Come on, kid, say something. You got me all worried here.”

“It’s all just- a bit much.” You mumble. “Yeah, I get it. A lot for you to shoulder, but I’m sure you’ll power through- oh, thanks love… Wha- How-“ John’s eyes moved from the beer in his hands to the energy can you were looking at. You just shrug. "I wanted to know if I could, thought…” You narrow your eyes at the can in your hands. “I’m not sure if this is made out of thin air or just- teleported or something.”

Constantine just slowly looks back at his beer mug… She was taking this better than most. He hoped it was because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. Well, he’s had worse things in his mouth, he's sure, so with a shrug, he takes a sip, humming with delight at the taste, muttering something about this being real beer. “You’re here to help me, right? Like- with my powers… I- I think I need help with this whole worshipping gods and demons- entities- thing, too.”

He knew the easy way out would be to say no, to just leave, she had done just fine without him… But that isn’t what came out of his mouth. “Sure, poppet. Just keep on giving me this fine beer.” Given his track record with people and magic, he shouldn’t feel this accomplished at your happiness, but he was always quite selfish, so he returned your hug, even if he was a bit stiff.

“Now- usually the normal thing is to go from small stuff to big, teach the basics, but I’m not one for rules. Have you ever wanted to teleport via portals?” The big mischievous smile you gave him was all the answer he needed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You came home at the same time as Nolan and Mark, everyone’s first stop after greeting Debbie was their bedrooms to refresh themselves before going back to the dining area. “I’m going to be honest, Nolan, the longer hair and full beard fit you better than the silly mustache. Right, mom?” You couldn’t help the teasing as the whole family ate. Debbie looked at Nolan with a scrutinizing eye, before sighing and giving an amused smile. “I’ll definitely miss the beard.”

Mark snorted at the teasing as Nolan pouted, brows furrowing. “It’s not silly- it’s a rite of passage into manhood by the Viltrumite culture-“ you couldn’t help but interrupt. “It’s still a silly-looking mustache. What does the Viltrumite rite of passage for women look like?”

Nolan’s momentary displeasure at the mustache comment was overlooked as the inquiry about the Viltrumite women was brought forth. “Huh… I’m not sure, I never really paid attention to that. I think some cut their hair.” A puff of air escaped you in amusement before deciding to tease him some more. “Well, you clearly weren’t planning for a daughter that’s sure.”

Debbie just took in the chatter. She enjoyed the easy atmosphere, the laughter of her kids. “So, how was everyone’s day?” She asks once the chatter stops. “Oh, I met the Teen Team and helped them with the Flaxan attack, dad got kidnapped by them while I was trying to gather up survivors, made friends with Atom Eve, and met an alien called Allen who apparently got the wrong planet.” Mark shrugged.

“I spent the last eight months enslaved by an army from an alternative dimension, although it seems much less time has passed here. About a week ago, I led a revolt against my captors and regained control of my powers. Today, a team of scientists from the rebellion found a way to get me home.” Nolan lied as easily as he breathed.

“One of Mark’s teachers was turning his classmates into organic bombs in order to take revenge on kids he felt were like the ones who led his son to commit suicide. He turned himself into a bomb also and tried to take me out with him but clearly, it didn’t work in his favor. Helped clean up after the Flaxan mess, and met the lead singer of Mucous Membrane who apparently is a mage. He was here on behalf of Death herself to help me and tell me that my powers aren’t because I’m a meta, they’re magic. Oh, and also, I’m allegedly immortal.” You took a sip of water. “Lex also wants to know if anyone would be interested in attending one of his rich folk parties.”

At the quietness of the room, you lifted your eyes from your plate to look at everyone’s shocked glance. “What?” you ask with a mouth full of food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That night, the teens wanted to sleep with their parents, both needing reassurance. Debbie and Mark were already gone, sleeping deep and peacefully. “Dad… You awake?” your question was whispered as your head lay on Deborah's shoulder. He answered with a warm hand squeezing your shoulder and a quiet hum. “...How do you move past people you can’t save or the people we have to sacrifice?”

Nolan wasn’t sure how to answer that, he’d never felt anything for the people he couldn’t save. He knew that if he had to save earth’s people or his kids and wife… Well… Earth can be populated again. “You look at the people who you did save. We can’t always save everyone, that’s the sad reality. It’s… painful. But it’s a truth all heroes have to come to terms with. Even I can’t save everyone.” Nolan wrapped his arms around his girls and son tighter, pulling everyone closer. “If all you could save was a person, you still did everything you could. If you couldn’t save anyone, you just have to keep your head high and try again.”

You snuggled closer into your mom, feeling her arm instinctively wrap around you as you draped yours over her and Nolan’s stomach, your fingers laying on Mark’s wrist. The sad reality of being a hero...

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

I'M REALLY SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEBODY- MY DOC SOMETIMES FORGETS TO SAVE AND I HAD TO READD PPL

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader #platonic yandere #yandere batfam x reader #yandere!debbie grayson #yandere!nolan grayson #yandere!mark grayson

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soulofapatrick · 2 days ago

Text

The Fourth Wing Boys and their Reactions to you being Pregnant

Summary: Just what I think the boys' reactions would be

Words: 7.5K words

Warnings: some angst but mostly fluffy and cuteeee

Xaden Riorson, the man who has made a career of maintaining control in a world that crumbles around him, has never looked more vulnerable than in this moment. His eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that see everything and give nothing away—widen as the words I just spoke settle between us. The smirk that usually dances on his lips, the one that makes him seem untouchable, vanishes as if it’s never been there at all. His expression, typically guarded and enigmatic, is now a map of raw emotion, impossible to ignore.

I watch him, unsure of whether I’ve just shattered the air between us or opened a door we aren’t ready to walk through. His hands, always confident and steady, grip my waist with a force that seems born of instinct, as if the weight of what I just told him threatens to pull him down. He inhales sharply, and in the way his breath catches in his throat, I can feel it—a tremor, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The sound of it—soft, like a whisper of disbelief—breathes life into the moment, making it real, making it unavoidable.

His eyes dart to my stomach, that small curve, barely noticeable but unmistakably there. Then, without warning, they flick back to mine, as if trying to find some confirmation that this isn’t a cruel joke, some twisted play to see him unravel. His jaw tightens, his muscles go taut, and for the briefest of seconds, I think he might not believe me. But then he whispers, his voice low and edged with something I’m not ready to identify. “You’re sure?”

I nod, unable to contain the mix of fear, anticipation, and joy that floods through me, and that’s when everything shifts. The tension in his body cracks, splintering apart like ice breaking under the weight of an ocean. His breath, shallow and uneven, spills out in a rush, and his gaze—normally so calculating, so indifferent to everything around him—softens, transforming into something I’ve only seen glimpses of: vulnerability. There, in that look, I see the faintest flicker of hope, a light that barely dares to exist in the shadows of his usual guarded composure.

The silence that follows feels like an eternity, a moment stretched so thin it could shatter at any second. But instead, he moves. His hands, which had been trembling ever so slightly, find their place around me, pulling me close as if I’m the only thing holding him together. His lips brush against the side of my face, pressing against my temple in a gesture that feels oddly fragile for someone like him—someone who has built walls taller than any fortress, whose every breath is calculated, every action precise.

His voice, when it finally comes, is raw—thick with emotion I didn’t know he was capable of showing. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmurs, his words a promise. His hands slide down slowly, reverently, until one rests on my stomach. His thumb begins to trace circles, soft at first, like he’s afraid to touch too firmly, as if afraid he might shatter something precious. And maybe he’s right—because in this moment, something shifts inside him, and I’m not sure he’s ready to face it yet.

The man who once seemed so untouchable, so impenetrable, is unraveling in front of me, but not in a way that makes me want to run. Instead, I find myself holding him just as tightly, afraid that if I let go, he might slip away. He isn’t just holding me—he’s holding onto something else. Something bigger than both of us.

We stay like that for a long while, the world fading into the background. His hands, still tracing slow circles over my stomach, seem to speak volumes without words. Each pass of his thumb is a vow—a promise to protect, to fight for, to love the life growing inside me with the same fierce, unrelenting devotion he’s always given to me. Only now, there’s something new in his gaze—something deeper. The promise isn’t just to me anymore. It’s to the little one we’ve yet to meet, the one who has already captured his heart in a way I never could have expected.

We’re lying in bed, the early morning sunlight spilling through the window, painting Garrick’s bare shoulders in a soft, golden glow. The light dances across his skin, highlighting the muscles in his back as he sleeps, his breathing slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest like a calming rhythm. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, holding me close but not tight, as if he’s still half-anchored to the world of dreams. The warmth of him presses against me, a comfort I never want to lose, but something stirs inside me—something I can’t ignore, something that needs to be said.

I shift slightly, the flutter of nerves in my chest making my heart race just a little faster than it should. His eyes crack open, barely more than a sliver, and he blinks up at me through the haze of sleep. His lips twitch into the softest of smiles, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spread through me, even as my own pulse quickens.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep, a teasing note in the words.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment, the gravity of the words I’m about to say. “I have something to tell you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, thick with nerves. I watch his expression shift as he processes my tone—sleep fading from his eyes as they focus on me, sharpening with concern, alertness creeping in. His brows furrow slightly, his grip on me tightening just enough that I can feel the change, the instinctive need to protect, to hold me steady.

The air between us thickens, and I take a steadying breath before finally letting the words escape. “I’m pregnant.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing—no sound, no movement. Just the steady beat of my own heart, pounding in my ears. His blue eyes lock onto mine, and I see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to make sense of what I’ve just said. It’s as if he’s searching for any sign that he’s misunderstood, trying to find some hint that this isn’t real. And then, slowly, so slowly that it feels like time itself holds its breath, a grin begins to spread across his face. It starts small, like disbelief, and then grows—grows until it’s nothing short of radiant, the kind of grin that could light up the world. It’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, a warmth that fills the space between us, and I feel myself melt under it.

A quiet, breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, what he’s feeling. He sits up then, pulling me with him, his movements fluid, confident, like he’s always known he’d be here. His hands come up to cradle my face, and his thumbs gently trace over my cheekbones, each touch reverent, as though I am the most precious thing he’s ever held. His touch is tender, full of wonder. His gaze never leaves mine.

“We’re having a baby?” he whispers, voice hushed, awed, like the very idea of it is too beautiful to fully comprehend. His eyes search mine for any hint of doubt, any sign that this might not be true, but all I can do is nod. And when I do, he kisses me—deep, lingering, filled with everything he feels, overflowing with love and joy in a way that takes my breath away.

The kiss is everything—the kind of kiss that promises a future, the kind that says we’re in this together, no matter what. When he finally pulls away, his hands slide down to rest over my stomach, his touch slow and careful, like he’s handling something fragile, something sacred. His voice is thick with emotion as he murmurs, “I’m going to love them so much.”

I can feel the sincerity in his words, hear the depth of his commitment in every syllable. He presses his forehead to mine, the grin never fading, and I can feel his joy radiating off of him, filling me up. There’s no hesitation, no doubt in him, just a certainty that this moment, this new chapter of our lives, is exactly where we’re meant to be. He holds me close, his hands still resting gently on my stomach, as if he’s already thinking of all the ways he’ll love the little life growing inside me.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmurs, and the wonder in his voice makes my heart swell. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And for the first time in a long time, I’m certain too. In his arms, with his heart beating against mine, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And I know, deep down, that we’ll be the best parents we can be. Because this moment—this shared joy—is only the beginning.

Liam is in the middle of fixing his dagger, the rhythmic glide of the whetstone over the blade a comforting sound, familiar and steady. His brow is furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he works, his fingers steady and sure. There’s a certain ease to his posture, though—a quiet confidence in the way he holds the dagger, in the way he moves. I watch him for a moment, the soft light from the window casting shadows over his strong features, and something stirs deep in my chest.

I know what I’m about to say will change everything. It will shift the balance of us, of this quiet, simple life we’ve built. It will disrupt the calm. And yet, in this moment, with his presence so solid and steady beside me, I’m not sure if I’m ready for the words to leave my lips.

“Liam,” I say softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. My heart is racing, a thudding pulse in my ears, but I push through it. He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes still focused on the blade in front of him. But when I don’t continue, when the silence stretches between us too long, he finally stills. His sharp green eyes flick to mine, reading me in an instant. And in that moment, I feel like he’s already seen it all—the hesitation, the fear, the joy that fights its way to the surface.

The dagger is forgotten, carefully set down on the table beside him, and he stands in one smooth motion, crossing the distance between us in two quick strides. The energy between us shifts, and his hands frame my face, warm and steady, his breath unsteady as he studies me. I can see the question in his eyes, and I know he’s waiting for me to speak again.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low, steady. But I can hear the uncertainty beneath it—the flicker of confusion, of concern, because he knows something is coming, something big.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, gripping the edge of the table as though it’s the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. I whisper the words, barely above a breath, but I feel them settle between us like a charge in the air. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang there, heavy, charged, electric. I watch as his body locks up, the shock rippling through him, a brief stillness in the air before everything changes. He blinks once, then twice, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the right response but no words come. The seconds stretch out, thick and heavy, as though we’re suspended in time, before he inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with an effort that betrays his calm.

Without another word, he steps closer, closing the gap between us. His hands are on me in an instant, cupping my face with a tenderness that makes my heart catch. He’s searching my eyes, his expression intense, as though he’s trying to read me, to make sure this is real. “Say it again,” he murmurs, his voice thick, as if the words themselves are something he needs to hear once more to believe.

I don’t hesitate this time. I say it again, the words rolling off my tongue with a clarity I didn’t know I had in me. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises again, this time in a sharp inhale, and his fingers tighten around me as if to pull me even closer, as if he never wants to let go. The moment feels suspended, timeless, and then suddenly—he laughs. It’s a quiet, disbelieving sound, almost as though he can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and the laugh shifts into something softer, something deeper. Something filled with wonder.

He presses his forehead to mine, the weight of his hands on my face grounding me, and then slowly, reverently, his hands slip down to rest over my stomach. His touch is warm, careful, as though he’s holding something delicate, something precious. The moment stretches between us, full of a new, tender energy, and I know without a doubt that everything has changed.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, raw and genuine, like he’s trying to find the words to hold all of it—this moment, this future, this life we’re about to create together.

And then, without another word, he kisses me. It’s slow, deep, and everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of futures and dreams, of everything we’ve built and everything we will. I can feel the weight of it, the depth of it, and as he pulls me close, as his hands rest gently on the life growing inside me, I know that this moment is the beginning of everything. Everything has changed. And somehow, it feels like it always was meant to.

Bodhi is pacing, his boots scuffing against the cold stone floor with every angry step. The rhythm of his movement is frantic, almost like he's trying to outrun the frustration boiling inside him. His hands are thrown up in exasperation, his voice sharp with bitterness. “Of course, Xaden gets the good shit. Again. Powers? Sure. Now Violet... First in line for the throne? Why the hell not?” His voice cracks with sarcasm, the words biting through the air like daggers. “They both get the good fucking shit.”

I watch him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. It’s not the anger that rattles me; I’ve seen him like this before. But the weight of it all—the frustration that pours out of him—makes my stomach twist with something deeper. It’s all too familiar, this endless cycle of feeling overlooked, dismissed. His voice is thick with old grievances, with wounds that never quite heal, and I know well enough to recognize when he’s spiraling.

He’s about to explode, and I can’t let him. Not this time. If I don’t stop him, I know he’s going to hurt himself in more ways than one. So I step forward, my footsteps silent but determined, and before he can throw his next bitter word into the air, I grab his wrist, holding it firmly but gently.

“Bodhi.”

My voice cuts through his storm of frustration like a calm in the eye of the hurricane, sharp and steady. He freezes mid-step, his body tensing as my name slides past my lips. His hazel eyes, blazing with unresolved anger, snap to mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, feeling the weight of the words that have been resting on the edge of my tongue for what feels like an eternity. "I’m pregnant."

The shift is immediate, like the world tilts on its axis. His body locks up, rigid and uncertain, and his expression flickers through anger, confusion, and something else—something raw, vulnerable, and unguarded. His lips part, but no sound escapes. For a long moment, he just stands there, staring at me like I’ve just ripped the ground out from under him, like he’s trying to process what I’ve just dropped into the space between us.

The air in the room feels thick, charged, like time itself is holding its breath. Then, as if he’s been holding onto something for too long, the tension in his shoulders suddenly drains away, replaced by something softer, almost fragile. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s unsure of what to do, like he wants to reach for me but is afraid of the weight of what this means.

“You’re—” He stops himself, blinking hard as if he’s trying to shake off the fog of disbelief. “You’re serious?”

I nod, and when I do, his whole body seems to collapse inward. His breath comes out in a sharp exhale, ragged and uneven, and a shaky laugh bursts from him. It’s low, almost disbelieving, like he can’t quite catch up to the reality of it all. His hands tremble as he reaches for me, pulling me close like I’m the only thing holding him together in this moment. His fingers land on my waist, steady and desperate, as if he needs to feel me beneath his hands, solid and real.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathes, shaking his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Xaden can keep his damn throne." And then, without warning, he’s kissing me. It’s not soft or gentle—it’s desperate, a kiss that’s full of raw emotion, of relief, of something far too big to name. His hands tighten around me, anchoring himself to the moment, to the realisation, to us.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t let go, his hand sliding down to rest over my stomach, warm and steady. His touch is a promise, a grounding force. He’s breathing heavily, still trying to catch up to the reality of everything, but there’s a clarity in his eyes now. A certainty that wasn’t there before.

“This?” He murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is ours.”

And for the first time in a long while, I see it—the shift in him, the release of all that frustration, all that anger, replaced with something I can’t quite name. But I know this is the moment everything changes. This is the beginning of something far greater than the chaos we’ve both been drowning in.

Violet slides a glass toward me, the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes as she smirks. “Come on, you’re not seriously turning down a drink, are you?” Her voice has a playful edge, teasing me, but something’s different in the way she looks at me, like she senses that something is off. I hesitate, the words swirling in my mind, threatening to spill, and that’s when I push the glass away.

Her smirk falters. “Wait. What?”

Before she can press further, I feel it—the weight of Ridoc’s gaze on me. I turn, and there he is, standing a few feet away, brow furrowed and head tilted just enough to show he’s putting pieces together. I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t. His sharp eyes meet mine, and I know he’s already suspicious. He sees the way my fingers twitch, the way my breath hitches just a little too sharply when Violet teases me. He knows something’s coming.

I swallow hard, grip his wrist, and tug him away from the table. The murmurs of the others fade as I pull him further from the group, needing space to breathe. My pulse is racing now, my heart pounding louder with each step. I know damn well I can’t hold this in any longer, but the moment I say it, things will never be the same.

We stop just outside the circle of laughter and conversation, where no one can overhear us. Ridoc stands there, arms folded, eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Alright,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’re acting weird, you turned down alcohol, and you’re pulling me aside like you’ve got some massive secret. Should I be worried?”

The weight of it all presses against me, suffocating, but I manage to look him in the eye. This isn’t something I planned to tell him so soon, but I can’t carry this any longer. I take a deep breath, the words burning on my tongue, and whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

The world seems to stop.

Ridoc blinks once, then twice, as if he didn’t hear me right. His mouth opens, and then shuts, his brain visibly scrambling to process what I just said. His eyes dart to mine, searching for any hint of a joke, but there’s nothing. His hands, once folded tightly across his chest, now hang at his sides, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

For a moment, he’s completely still, like the world around us has fallen silent and we’re the only ones who matter.

And then, his face shifts. The shock gives way to confusion, and that’s when I see it—the joy. The raw, unfiltered joy that bursts through his expression. His lips part, the corners twitching upward in disbelief. He can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the next breath, before I can say another word, he spins around, his body moving with a force that’s both desperate and excited. And then, as if he’s claiming the moment for himself, he calls out across the room, loud enough for the entire squad to hear.

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD!”

The room goes completely still. Every single person freezes. A glass hits the floor with a dull thud. Violet chokes on her drink. Rhiannon’s jaw nearly hits the floor. Xaden, of course, looks like he already knew, his gaze unamused but somehow fond. Ridoc, meanwhile, is still grinning like the world is his to conquer. He doesn’t even care that we’re the center of attention.

The chaos erupts. Cheers, whoops, congratulations from every corner of the room. The sound of people scrambling to get to us, laughing, offering their well-wishes. But I can’t help but bury my face in my hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Ridoc’s laughter, though, it’s pure, unrestrained. He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground in a tight, dizzying hug. His grip is firm but gentle, as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“You really thought I’d keep that to myself?” he says, his voice muffled in my hair as he chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. “Oh, love, you should know me better by now.”

I can barely breathe, laughing in spite of myself. The entire world feels like it’s shifting around us, and yet in this moment, I don’t care. I’m lost in him, in the joy he’s radiating, in the life we’ve just begun to build together. For the first time, I feel like nothing can touch us.

And when he finally pulls back, his hand slides over my stomach, slow and reverent, as if trying to memorise the change that’s already started to take place.

“This?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is going to be the best thing thats ever happened to us.”

The soft sound of footsteps echoes through the quiet hallway, but it's the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open that pulls me from my thoughts. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed, a thousand things running through my mind, but when I hear it, I freeze.

The door clicks shut behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can already hear Sawyer’s quiet, steady steps, the way he moves with that lazy confidence, like nothing in the world could make him rush. He's always been like that—unfazed, comfortable in his skin, but also the first one to notice when something’s off.

He leans against the doorframe, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and one brow arches slightly, like he's in on some joke I haven't figured out yet. He watches me for a long moment, his gaze knowing, waiting for me to speak. But I can’t. Words are stuck in my throat, heavy and thick.

I open my mouth, then close it again, trying to find the courage. My fingers brush against the edge of the bed, and it feels like the room is shrinking, the weight of what’s coming making my chest tighten.

Sawyer, ever perceptive, notices the shift in my demeanor instantly. Without hesitation, he pushes off the doorframe, his movements slow but purposeful. His voice is low, calm, but laced with concern. "What’s wrong?"

I glance at him, my heart hammering, and for a second, I almost wish I could keep this to myself just a little longer. But I know I can’t. Not with him. Not now.

I take a deep breath, avoiding his gaze as I stand up from the bed. My stomach churns again, a nauseating wave rising in my gut, but this time, it's different. I press a hand to my stomach, fighting against the bile that threatens to rise.

And that’s when I feel it—the low, guttural sound of me retching. I stumble toward the bathroom door before the first wave of nausea hits, pushing the door open just enough to avoid the inevitable disaster. I’m barely able to make it to the toilet before I’m on my knees, my body doubling over as I empty my stomach. The burn in my throat makes everything spin, and I try to steady myself, but it’s no use.

Then I hear it—the sound of Sawyer’s footsteps behind me, closer now, much closer. The door to the bathroom creaks open, and I don't need to look up to know he’s standing there. I can feel his presence, solid and unwavering. His hands press against the doorframe as he leans in, his gaze searching for me in the dim light.

“Hey… hey, you okay?” His voice is soft but urgent, his concern bleeding through the calm tone. He steps closer, his hand resting gently on the back of my neck, his touch warm and steady, like he’s trying to pull me back to earth.

I try to swallow, my breath still shallow, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I say, but it comes out raspy and weak, not even close to convincing. The words fall flat, like they’re already on their way to breaking.

Sawyer doesn’t buy it. He crouches down beside me, his fingers brushing through my hair as he presses a damp cloth to the back of my neck. It’s soothing, but it’s also him, grounding me in a way that only he can.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, voice low and calm.

And that’s when it happens—the dam breaks. I feel the weight of it, everything I’ve been holding back, and it spills out before I can stop it. “Sawyer, I’m pregnant.”

The words hang between us for a moment, and I can see it in his eyes—surprise, confusion, maybe even a little disbelief. His expression shifts like he's trying to process it, his brows furrowing for a fraction of a second before they smooth out, replaced by a gentle, almost stunned smile.

"You’re what?" he asks softly, his voice thick with the disbelief of the moment. But there’s something else there now, something warmer, a flicker of excitement, and maybe even hope.

I nod, my heart thudding in my chest as I try to steady myself, the nausea still lingering. His hands, once gently cradling me, tighten around me now, pulling me closer as if he’s trying to keep me anchored in the moment.

He blinks, then laughs softly, the sound almost disbelieving. “Holy shit,” he breathes, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

I nod again, the words tumbling out like they’re finally free, but I can feel the tension lift from my shoulders, replaced by something new, something lighter.

Sawyer’s expression shifts from disbelief to joy. It’s like the moment the words left my mouth, everything clicked for him. His arms tighten around me, pulling me into a warm embrace as he presses a kiss to my temple, the action soft, tender. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeats, voice thick with emotion.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hand coming up to gently cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. “You just made me the happiest guy alive, you know that?”

I lean into his touch, feeling the sincerity in every word, every action. The chaos of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, all start to settle in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been carrying this secret, but now, in this moment, it feels like everything is going to be okay. Together.

Sawyer grins, his eyes sparkling with a joy that’s impossible to miss. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but we’ll figure it out. Together.” And just like that, the weight of everything shifts. It’s no longer a burden. It’s a promise.

Dain is already watching me when I step into the room, his eyes flicking over me with that overly cautious, ever-concerned expression that only he can pull off. It's like he has a sixth sense for when something is off. I can feel the weight of his gaze, like he's reading me before I even open my mouth. But this time, I can tell—he has no idea what's coming.

I shift on my feet, trying to steady my racing heart, and exhale sharply. The words feel stuck in my throat, but I can’t keep them in any longer. I have to say it, no matter how much it makes my palms sweat or my stomach churn.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be.

For a full five seconds, Dain doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. It’s like time has stopped, and I’m caught in this endless moment, waiting for him to process what I’ve just said. His face is completely blank, like his brain just short-circuited, like I’ve just dropped an impossible bomb on him and his system is still rebooting.

Then, panic. Pure, unfiltered panic. “You’re what?!” His voice jumps an octave, his eyes going wide as his hands fly up in the air, like he’s physically trying to keep reality from sinking in. “How—? I mean, I know how, but—this isn’t—what are we going to—?”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s trying to work out a hundred different scenarios all at once, his mind moving faster than he can process. He starts pacing, running a hand through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s already mentally drawing up battle plans for a war he didn’t see coming. “We need a plan. I need to—fuck, what if—what about Xaden? Does he know? And the squad? And—”

Before he can fully spiral, a sharp smack echoes through the room. Dain jerks forward slightly, his eyes snapping up in shock, and I can’t help but let out a breath of relief at the interruption.

Behind him stands Sloane, one hand on her hip, the other still raised from the smack she just delivered upside his head. She’s unimpressed, as always, her expression a mixture of disbelief and mild annoyance.

“Pull yourself together, Aetos,” she deadpans, like she’s heard enough. “She just told you she’s pregnant, not that the kingdom is burning down.”

Dain blinks rapidly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, his brow furrowing as he tries to process what just happened. “Did you just—?”

Sloane doesn’t even flinch. She just raises an eyebrow and gives him an almost bored look. “You were being dramatic.”

I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes my lips at the exchange. I’m still reeling from the words I just said, but Sloane’s dry humor is like a lifeline, and Dain’s still-freaked-out expression helps ground me.

Something shifts in Dain’s face then. The panic is still there, lingering, but it begins to break apart, bit by bit. He exhales sharply, like he's realizing just how deep into this he’s about to dive. His gaze flicks back to me, and this time, he really sees me—really sees me. The fear is still there, but it's quieter now, and there’s something else in his eyes. Something steadier. Something that tells me he’s starting to process it, even if he’s still not sure what the next step is.

Dain steps forward slowly, almost cautiously, like he’s afraid I might slip away from him if he moves too quickly. His hands reach for mine, his grip warm, a little shaky. For a moment, the world feels like it narrows to just him and me, the chaos of his thoughts receding into the background as he pulls me into his orbit.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats softly, his voice a little raw. The words still feel strange in the air, like he's still getting used to them, but there’s something comforting in the way he says them. Like he's finally letting the weight of it sink in.

Then, to my complete surprise, a small, almost reverent smile tugs at his lips. The kind of smile I’ve never seen from him before. It’s not the typical confident, strategic grin he wears when he’s solving a problem or taking charge. No, this smile is softer, more awed, like he’s realizing something bigger than both of us.

“We’re going to be okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it’s filled with something more. A promise. A reassurance.

Just as I feel myself starting to breathe again, Sloane claps Dain on the shoulder with enough force to almost send him stumbling forward. She doesn’t even look back at us as she starts to walk away, her voice cutting through the moment with a sarcastic edge.

“About time,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

Dain huffs out a quiet laugh, clearly unbothered by her comment. He squeezes my hands tighter, his grip grounding me as his other arm slides around my back, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’ll be better at this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his breath warm against my ear. “I promise.”

I rest my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against mine, and for the first time in a long while, I believe him. Together, we’ll figure this out. One step at a time.

The meeting room is tense, filled with whispers and the clink of metal as people adjust in their seats. Violet is leaning forward, her usual soft smile replacing any hint of concern, while the others are deep in debate about who will go on the next mission. The stakes are high, and it’s clear that everyone wants to make sure they’re well-prepared. My heart is pounding in my chest, a tight knot forming as I feel the weight of what’s coming. The group is discussing the flying assignments, who’s going to be paired with Violet on her dangerous mission, and I can’t help but feel like something’s off. There’s a restlessness in me, a hesitation that I can’t shake.

Then, as expected, the moment comes. They call my name.

I stand, my legs feeling heavier than usual as I move toward the front of the room, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. I haven't even had the chance to tell Aaric yet. Haven’t had the chance to figure out what to say, how to handle it, how to let him in on something that already feels like it might be too much for us to process together.

But then, just as the silence begins to settle in the room, his voice cuts through, clear and commanding.

“No.” Aaric’s tone is sharp, his presence suddenly filling the room with an authority that demands attention. All eyes snap toward him as he stands from his seat, his jaw tight, a flash of something determined in his eyes. “She’s not going.”

Everyone blinks in confusion, unsure of where this sudden interruption is coming from. I glance over at Violet, who raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She’s known Aaric for years, but she’s never seen him this... intense, this protective.

“What do you mean, she’s not going?” Xaden’s voice is incredulous, his hands on her hips as he challenges him. “We need her there. She’s more than capable—”

Aaric cuts her off, his gaze never leaving me. “I’m not letting her go. Not when—” He pauses, his expression tightening, like he’s struggling to hold back the words. But then his gaze flickers over to me, and the moment shifts. He knows. His eyes soften, just for a second, and I realize that somehow, without me even saying a word, he’s already figured it out. He’s seen it.

Before anyone can react, Aaric strides toward me, his hand lightly resting on my shoulder, like he’s grounding himself as much as he’s grounding me. “You’re pregnant,” he announces, his voice thick with the weight of his knowledge. The room falls into stunned silence.

I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up as his words hit me like a physical blow. I hadn’t planned to tell anyone yet. I hadn’t even figured out how to tell him. And now, here he is, pulling me into the center of attention, revealing something so personal that I feel like my entire world is shifting beneath me.

There’s a brief moment of chaos, with murmurs spreading through the room, eyes flicking between us. Some of the squad members look concerned, others confused, and a few seem like they’ve been expecting this. But I can’t focus on them. I can’t focus on anything except the look in Aaric’s eyes.

“I…” I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat. I’m not angry at him, not exactly. But I feel exposed, raw. How did he know?

Aaric’s gaze softens as he watches me, but his tone is firm. “I saw it.” His voice drops, quieter now, only for me to hear. “My signet... It showed me. I can’t... I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Not now.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost enough to break me. His instinct—his foresight—has always been a double-edged sword. It’s saved us more times than I can count, but now, it’s exposing a vulnerability neither of us were ready for. He’s not just thinking about the mission or the war. He’s thinking about me. About us.

Violet is staring at us, disbelief on her face, but Aaric isn’t looking at her. His attention is fully on me, and the way he holds my gaze makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his hand slipping from my shoulder to gently take my hand. “I know this isn’t easy. But I’m not letting you go out there. Not like this. Not with...” His voice falters for a moment, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him. “We’re going to be a family.”

His words hit harder than I expected. He hasn’t even had time to process the gravity of what he’s saying, yet somehow, he’s already stepping up in ways I hadn’t anticipated. There’s no panic in his voice, no second-guessing. Just a quiet certainty that, in this moment, makes me feel like maybe everything will be okay.

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that I’m capable, that I’ve handled worse, but something in his eyes stops me. The truth is, I’m scared. Scared of what this means, what it changes between us. But at the same time, there’s something about Aaric’s confidence, his protectiveness, that makes me feel like maybe—just maybe—he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

He squeezes my hand, his smile a little softer now, though still full of that unshakeable confidence. “You didn’t have to tell me. I knew.”

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m carrying this burden alone.

The war room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of candlelight and the rustling of parchment as Brennan pores over the map before him. His shoulders are taut, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He hasn’t come to bed yet. Again.

I watch him from the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed, my heartbeat an insistent drum against my ribs. He’s been lost in his own mind for hours, drowning in battle plans and strategy, and if I don’t pull him out of it, I know he’ll stay here all night.

So, I move.

The air is thick with the scent of parchment and ink, the remnants of a half-finished cup of tea gone cold at his elbow. He doesn’t look up as I approach, not even when I step behind him and press my hands against his tense shoulders, kneading gently.

“Brennan.” My voice is soft, coaxing.

A quiet hum is the only response I get. He leans into my touch, just barely, but his eyes stay fixed on the map.

Stubborn man.

I exhale sharply before shifting, slipping into his lap with ease. That gets his attention. His hands move instinctively to my hips, steadying me, but his gaze flickers only briefly to my face before returning to the table, as if I’m just another part of the world he’s trying to control.

I huff in frustration, threading my fingers through his auburn hair, tugging gently. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m working,” he murmurs, voice distant, distracted.

“Brennan.” This time, there’s warning in my tone. When he still doesn’t look at me, I grab his face between my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze.

He startles, his breath catching, and for the first time tonight, I have his undivided attention.

“Look at me,” I whisper.

His lips part slightly, confusion flickering in the depths of his amber eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. My thumbs brush over the sharp lines of his jaw, tracing the tension there, the weight he carries like armour.

I exhale, slow and measured, before I finally speak the words that have been pressing against my ribs all night.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

A long, breathless pause where the world seems to still, time stretching between us like something fragile. Brennan doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His expression is utterly unreadable, carved from stone.

Then—his hands tighten at my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt like he’s grounding himself, like he’s afraid to let go.

“What?” The word is barely a whisper, hoarse with something I can’t quite name.

I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises and falls sharply, the only sign that he’s actually processing what I just said. For a long, terrifying moment, he just stares at me—like I’m something impossible, something too precious to be real.

And then, the breath he’s been holding rushes out of him all at once. His hands move without thought, sliding up my sides, over my stomach, reverent and almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid he might break me.

“You’re serious?” His voice is raw, stripped of all its usual certainty.

I nod.

Something in him shatters.

He exhales a quiet, disbelieving laugh, but his eyes are bright, almost feverish with emotion. And then he’s kissing me—fierce, desperate, like he’s trying to press this moment into my skin so he’ll never forget it. His hands tangle in my hair, pull me closer, his breath warm and unsteady against my lips.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against mine, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken. His fingers skim over my stomach again, slower this time, lingering.

“We’re going to have a child,” he murmurs, like he’s only just allowing himself to believe it.

I nod again, my own breath shaky.

Brennan closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling against my skin. And when he looks at me again, it’s different. The storm inside him has quieted, replaced by something deeper, something unshakable.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice rough with promise. “And I swear to you—I swear on everything—I will protect you both.”

Tears burn at the edges of my vision, but I blink them away, letting my fingers trace the strong lines of his face. “I know.”

And for the first time in hours, Brennan forgets about war.

For the first time in weeks, he lets himself hold something other than duty.

Me. Us. Our future.

And for now, that’s enough.

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sarrabalti · 3 days ago

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i felt like i was never enough . you've never told me you love me first so i gave up us but i've never stoped loving u , i love you and i'm loving you and i'll keep on loving you you're my only fatefull remedy for my soul you are the connections and the endings my dear moon i use to be your sun , who cares now .....

it's my delluluu i know what abt ' fck u anyway ' and wht abt 'fck society' what abt us wht abt our soul i feel it's linked and it's always coming back to me since i knew u and everything changed in my life you changed the court of my being my thinking everything how could u expect me to go on while u're my gardien angel , i made you feel unsafe §§§§ i loved you i loved you deeply possesevely i loved you that i can't breath while you're not around i fought with u ,,, you mught think that i don't care you might believe it , i still care i just stopped pusshing you to love me i won't beg for your love i must earn it cause i love you heart body and soul / this is my last call .

i felt unwanted i left i ripped my heart in pieces and i've been bleeding for years now what u expect me to do ' لا تهمل من تحب فربما يظن أنك لا تريده فيرحل ' , i loved more and i cared less abt myself مزلت نحبك قد ما مشى الكلب حافي

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luckykiwiii101 · 22 hours ago

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AND WHO AM I? *INSERT NAME*

| | MY PERFECT SELF CONCEPT | |

ཐི I finally have my dream life, what can I say, i’m god ཋྀ

✰ AND WHO AM I? | | AND WHO AM I? | | AND WHO AM I? ✰

p.s. This is a generalised self concept guide template. Please change it to your liking (by making your own personalised one!!)

✰ I am *insert name here* -> associate your desired name with your self concept. vice versa.

✰ I’m god AKA pure consciousness

✰ I have the perfect self concept:

| | ✰ I have my dream life

| | ✰ I manifest so effortlessly & instantly

| | ✰ I always wake up purely conscious (in the void state aware).

| | ✰ I always succeed no matter what. I know that success is the only outcome. I have faith & belief in myself.

| | ✰ I’m always doing everything right because I’m god.

| | ✰ I know that nothing can “ruin” my manifestations because they’re already here. I already have them.

| | ✰ *add your own rules*

| | REMINDERS TO MY PERFECT SELF | |

✰ Creation is finished. It already happened.

✰ The 3D does not exist to a purely conscious being, in other words, me. (there is no concept of the 3D & time in the god state).

✰ The only concept of time in the I AM is NOW, therefore waiting does not exist. I have my dream life right now.

✰ I’m not “thinking as if”, i’m thinking as it already is because I truly have all my desires. (there is nothing to pretend or desire to have).

✰ God does whatever god wants. Therefore I do whatever I want. All I do is remind myself that i’m god and I have all my desires. The right way to manifest is however I want to manifest.

✰ In the god state, nothing feels impossible or difficult.

✰ god state = I AM (real me)

✰ I AM pure consciousness. Faceless & formless.

✰ I experience no limitations because I view manifestation from the inner (real) me.

✰ I understand that it’s impossible for me to not have my desires.

✰ There is absolutely NOTHING outside of me. Every little thing that I could possibly put on a pedestal is within me. I am on the pedestal because i’m literally god.

✰ The whole point of the law of assumption is that the 3D outer self is not the one experiencing my desires, it is the inner (real) me who has it. The real me does not experience the 3D at all! So there is no reason to attempt to fool myself by the delusions of the 3D when I know it isn’t me.

✰ I AM is the only power that exists, which is me.

✰ I am not assigned to any original reality or identity. I am merely pure consciousness physically experiencing whatever I assume.

| | HOW I REMIND MYSELF THAT I HAVE ALL MY DESIRES | |

| | ✰ I close my eyes and feel myself to be purely conscious, then I tie that feeling of awareness to the feeling of being all powerful.

| | ✰ I feel myself to be my desired self

| | ✰ I feel myself to have all my desires & the perfect self concept

| | ✰ *write whatever you want in this section e.g. any methods you like using or simply just deciding.*

| | ✰ *If you’re using a manifestation routine, paste it here*

The devil doesn’t wear submission. She wears prada, oh!- and narcissism. You already have everything you want. XOXO

- gossip girl

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 22 hours ago

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todays the day | s.r. x fem liaison!reader

something in the air told you. today was the day. you were gonna marry spencer reid, well first a proposal should happen then the marriage. but you didn’t need a huge wedding anyway, you just wanted to marry that man.

last month marked three years of dating, this month marked a year of living together, and today will mark a new occasion. you knew after your first anniversary that spencer was the only one for you and he even told you himself “i still can’t believe i get to call you mine. one of the few good things out of my life.”

so today was the day. it was a rare day off from work, fingers crossed for the whole twenty-four hours, and the two of you were just enjoying laying in your bed until noon. spencer curled up as you big spooned him, nose nuzzled into his lean neck, spencer’s hands holding onto yours that hugged his torso.

a delicate press of lips to skin, “spence…” wanting to wake him up slowly. he shifted and hummed in his throat, you pressed another kiss at the bottom of his neck, “i need to ask you something.”

you heard his deep inhale then he slowly rolled over so now the two of you were eye to eye. his sleep heavy eyes blinked slowly and his lips barely curled up, “hi.” the word an octave lower.

you brushed some rough curls away from his eyes as you drank him in, “hi handsome.” whispering to keep the atmosphere warm. his large palm came to sit on your exposed hip, his thumb rubbing into some of the soft flesh of your stomach. “what’d you want to ask me?”

you let your fingers trail along his profile, “will you, spencer reid, will you marry?”

he smiled, “of course i’ll marry you.” giving his answer as more of a statement then the finite answer. “i just wasn’t expecting you to be the one asking, not that i’m against the norm, but yes of course i want to be married to you.”

you pushed onto your elbow, “no, i’m serious spencer. would you like to get married, as in today. at the courthouse.”

now spencer sat up, a slight concern to his pretty features. “are-are you sure? well first, yes i want to marry you like i said. that’s a no brainer for me, but don’t you want a wedding ceremony?”

you shook your head, moving your body so you were able to rest both knees at spencer’s hips. you grabbed both his hands and intertwined your fingers, setting them on your chest. “i just want to be married to you. i don’t need a big fat greek wedding, or a-a million guest watching us say i do. although i would like us to get some professional pictures taken, but that can wait.”

three kisses to the back of spencer’s knuckles, “i don’t really want to wait any longer. and we’ve both said it, we love each other and always talk about our futures. so let’s start making them come true. i want to be able to call myself mrs.reid.”

spencer smiled and his eyes shown brightly in the afternoon light, “do you really want to get married today?”

“absolutely. i don’t think i could wait another moment being single-ish.” needing to restrain yourself from getting jumpy.

“okay, we’re getting married today! we’ll work everything out as we go.” spencer agreeing to your spontaneously ridiculous request and you screeched in delight. throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. “we’ll call penelope as our witness.”

“oh she’s gonna love and hate us.”

#spencer reid early seasons #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

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This feels almost stupid to say but it feels useless for me to try and be taken seriously as a non-binary person in my day to day life. Everyone sees me as a girl. I will always be a girl to them. And even in the queer community I feel scared because I was a girl in my childhood and I feel like that makes me less valid, like my existence makes a laughing stock of people who deserve better. I tried to be a girl and I felt wrong, I tried to be a boy and it felt wrong...

I also. This feels really selfish to say but I get sort of...lonely? Sad? When I see things about trans men and trans women that don't include non-binary people, or when trans men/transmascs and non-binary people are lumped together. Makes me feel invisible, but at the same time makes me want to just...stop trying. It feels bad. So bad.

i'm sorry that you've been made to feel that way, it really sucks and i get it. people really do just only focus on trans women and trans men if they do acknowledge both binary genders and not focus on one or the other. i understand that theres a lot arguing going on between trans men and women right now but people are just totally forgetting about other genders, or like you said, lumping everything together

i can relate in that i never see mentions of genderqueer people in positivity posts at all unless myself or another genderqueer person wrote them. i feel there's the same going on with nonbinary as well. even though it's more well known, i feel like people don't treat nonbinary people any better. for whatever reason people assume nonbinary means quirky cis girl and it's like why are we still doing this. why are we still hurting people. why are we still misgendering people. why are we still willing to be misogynistic as hell to people we interpret as women, anyways? how is that okay? even if you were a girl why would it be okay to treat you like that?

people are just very open about how they don't see nonbinary people as real queer people and its exhausting. i'm sorry you're going through that. i know i don't talk about the broader gender spectrum enough and i really need to. it's like other genders are being pointedly left out for the sake of having something to argue about. it's not okay. i hope things improve soon. you're nonbinary no matter who you are or how you identify. nobody has the right to tell you who you "really" are or how you identify. take care of yourself

#asks #feedback #nonbinary #enby #answers

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zomboivex · 1 day ago

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Getting personal for a moment. But I feel it’s important to share, anyways.

When I was married, everyone in my life gaslit me to believe I was terrible with managing my money. Any personal expensive was noted as frivolous and wasteful. Bought some fabric for my hobby of dress-making with money I earned from a bonus?

That could have been used for the water bill next month!

Had a $1000 bonus? No. That’s for the house mortgage that he didn’t let my name exist on even though I paid for majority of the renovations because he was content letting the kitchen sit in disarray with thick dust in the air. Causing me to have severe allergy attacks every day.

Called off sick?

How could you? We have bills to pay!!!!

Go through extreme harassment at work?

No. You’re making it up. It’s an excuse to take a day off and relax.

Ignore the fact that he called off regularly because he had headaches while I was shamed into going to work despite having the flu.

Set up a joint account where only I contributed to put money in for bills to pay. Because he would pay from his account. Then he’d constantly drain the joint account for ‘bills’ and then spend his money on who even knows. We had 2 maxed out credit cards in his name.

But this was so normal to me. Because I grew up like this. I grew up with my ‘support system’ telling me this is normal. Telling me that I am the problem.

And I believed it.

I believed that everything that was wrong was me.

I didn’t know he was $7,000 in debt until our divorce where he was demanding I pay it off.

I never did find out what he used that money on. I suspect it was on his gaming addiction and my alleged ‘best friend’ he was sleeping with.

When I finally got out of that relationship, I was in financial ruin. I had nothing in my name. At 30.

I lost everything. (Except for the car that I begged for him to let me take and 3 of my 4 cats).

I lost the house I lived in for years. It was all in his name. There was nothing I could do about it. Because we were ‘only married for 3 years’ despite being together for 10.

I had no furniture to take with me. Save for a couch. That I couldn’t actually take because I had no place to go. I was couch surfing or sleeping in my car at this time.

I lost my dream job because my ‘friend’ worked there as well. And while they were beyond accommodating to my situation, I could no longer mentally handle being there nor could I handle the hour drive once I did find a place to live.

$1000 down on a new apartment.

Car broke down a month later. $1000 down on a new car.

Said car was stolen twice. Can’t even begin to tell you how much money that leeched out of my savings.

$23,000 (with health insurance) for surgery due to appendicitis.

All in a year after divorce.

It was defeating. It was so fucking hard.

In a span of a year I went through multiple life crises events. I can feel how it physically changed my ability to process information. In a way, I’ve become ‘dumber’ because of it. I can’t hold onto information. I have a hard time reading and staying focused.

Only reason I was able to even financially get through all of that was because I had some money saved from a lawsuit at the job that was harassing me that I wound up winning after the divorce. That and I finally caved in and got a credit card (my credit score was good) and a couple of personal loans.

I’m still paying it all off. It has been so fucking hard.

And I’ve been going through waves of hating myself for being so naive to feeling terrible for what I’ve been through because I didn’t see anything wrong with what I experienced as it was happening. And I’m finally coming to my own form of peace with this. But it was hard.

I had been with him for 10 years.

I don’t love easily. But I did love him. Even if I showed it in odd ways. I wouldn’t have married him, otherwise.

And then when everyone around me said I was the problem, I believed them.

Even now, I have an incredibly hard time understanding when I am truly in the wrong with a situation or if my reaction to things are justified.

I didn’t realize I was being put through mental and financial abuse by so many people around me.

I wish I could hug me from a few years ago and let them know they are so strong for going through all of this. But that they shouldn’t have had to be so strong for so long.

I wish I could hug every woman on the planet that has been through anything where they had to ‘be strong’ to survive while thinking it’s normal.

Baby, it’s not normal. You deserve so much more in this world.

You deserve your own freedom and a support system that values you and lets you know when you’re going through actual bullshit instead of painting you as the villain.

To all the women out there who go through these things; I love you. I see you.

maybe i’m a joyless bitch but i actually do NOT think it’s funny to see women being like “the house is just in my husbands name” or “my husband makes all the money” or “i don’t even know who our mortgage is with” or “the only bank account/credit card is his and i get an allowance” like i do NOT find that cute or romantic and i am begging these women to Stand Up. you should at least be named on the deed to your house and the title to your car and the bank accounts even if you don’t pay for them/earn all the money. you can’t stop existing in the eyes of the law and the credit unions simply because you have a husband. if you’re raising his children and washing his socks half of everything he’s got is yours and it needs to be yours LEGALLY BY NAME. "he takes such good care of me :)" girl you are a PRISONER!! that’s all

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multific · 3 days ago

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Dreams in Velvet Shadows

Count Orlok x Reader

Summary: In your loneliness, you called for him. And in your despair, you searched for him.

The dreams began when loneliness had taken hold of your heart, a gaping emptiness that refused to be filled.

In your dreams, he came to you.

A man with a haunting face and eyes as deep and dark as the shadows.

A man so haunting yet so beautiful.

He spoke in whispers, promising love, devotion, and a bond that would transcend everything.

“You will be mine,” he murmured one night, his voice smooth as velvet. “When you are ready, call to me, and I will come for you, My Beloved.”

But you couldn’t wait.

His promises stayed with you for the entirety of the day.

There was a pain in your heart, longing, which didn't disappear as the day went on.

You weren’t ready to wait, not when you could feel his pull even in waking hours. If he could come to you in dreams, surely, you could find him in the world of the living.

Your search began with whispers and legends, stories of a figure who resided in the ruin of a castle deep in the forest.

Though fear should have gripped you, all you felt was excitement.

Every step, you were closer and closer to him. So many sleepless nights finally paid off.

When you finally stood before the manor, the crumbling stone and overgrown vines felt like a sign of another world.

You were completely out of breath as your heart raced.

You entered the castle, the only light coming from the flickering candles you had brought.

You followed your heart and soon you found exactly what you have been looking for, an beautifully decorated coffin, carved with symbols you didn’t recognize.

The sun was setting as you looked out the window.

It was almost time for him to wake.

If you believed the words of the villagers, he awoke with the last rays of sunlight before crawling out of his coffin into the darkness.

You knelt before the coffin, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation and joy.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. You called to me in my dreams, but I wanted to be the one to come to you. To show you, I want to be with you, My Nosferatu.”

The room fell silent, except for the faint crackle of the candles and the wind outside.

The coffin’s lid shifted with a creak, and you held your breath.

When it opened fully, he was there, just as you had seen him in your dreams. From the deep dark eyes, to his thin yet still strong frame, he was tall.

His eyes found yours.

For a moment, his expression was unreadable. You thought it to be surprise.

Then, slowly, his lips curved into a faint smile.

“You,” he said, his voice richer and more resonant than in your dreams. “You came to me.”

“I couldn’t stay away. I’ve been searching for you. I’m ready to finally be only yours.”

He rose from the coffin, his movements fluid and deliberate. Standing before you, he towered over you as he reached out, his long fingers brushing your cheek.

“You are not afraid?”

“No, I have no reason to fear you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

For a moment, you worried. He might not actually want you. Maybe it was a childish dream after all.

Then, Orlok knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You were always meant to be mine."

You made your vow as the new moon rose in the sky, and wolves howled in the grounds.

"I willingly vow myself to you. For as long as you will have me, even in my death." he stood before you as his fingers lifted your head.

"You are mine forever. Thy flesh, bones and soul belong to me," he whispered as you took a breath in, your lips opening slightly.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, a seal on the bond that would tie you to him forever.

You felt the pain of your loneliness fall away, replaced by a love that would never fade.

In his arms, you were no longer a dreamer longing for connection.

You were his, and he was yours, bound together by the eternal night.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 days ago

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I See You As You Are - Pt 7

aemond x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first couple of weeks and months following Aelors birth Aemond becomes more protective than you thought possible. You practically have to beg him to sleep. He reluctantly starts to accept the help people are offering the both of you. Life slowly starts to go back to normal as you both fall more in love with Aelor.

Warnings: 18+ soft family moments that made me want to crash out!, aegon appearance again, overprotective aemond, oral(f), fingering, p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: i will forever spread my sibling agenda sry – idk why this took me so long to write just so many ideas all at once i guess 😵‍💫 but i love this series and im not abandoning her i just get too attached sometimes and don’t want to see it end - also don’t want to rush the writing of this bc i love it too much - me over explaining myself to no one but myself! n e ways enjoy i love u and i love this chap and story

Word Count: 8k

ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

It’s been a little over a week since you brought Aelor into this world and Aemond is positive he only sleeps when.. Maybe when he blinks. He needs to be aware of everything that moves inside your shared chambers. If you breathe too heavily he’s next to you. If Aelor coughs he’s hovering over the crib. You look up at his bloodshot eye with pursed lips as he escorts you back to bed.

“I don’t want you out of bed.” Aemond presses his lips to yours and helps you lay back into your well of pillows.

“And when pray tell, will me and Aelor be taken off of bed rest, maester Aemond?” he flares his nostrils and pulls your blanket up your body.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever let you two out of these chambers.” his tone is teasing but you both know how truthful his words are.

“Husband.” you look up at him.

“Hush.” he shakes his head. “There is nothing you two need outside of these chambers.” you clear your throat.

“Come lay with me.” you pat his side of the bed. He slowly crawls into the bed and you both turn and look at each other. “Tell me what you’re scared of.” your words soft.

“He’s so little and you’re still so fragile.” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want either of you taken from me. Whether it be a misstep on stairs or a sickness. I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll die without you and our son. I will. I can-

“Aemond,” you cup his cheek. “We are right here. Healthy and safe.” you nod your head. “One more week.” you press your lips to his.

“One more week?” he mumbles against your lips.

“You have one more week to prepare to take Aelor and me on a walk throughout the gardens.” you pull back.

“I’m sorry I’m overbearing.” he whispers.

“There is no reason to apologize.” you brush his hair back. “Could I make one more request?” he nods, starting to get up. “Lay back down.” you chuckle. “Please go to sleep. I know you haven’t been.” you wipe your thumb under his eye.

“Do you promise that you’ll both still be here when I wake?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him and curling against you.

“Yes, Aemond. We will both be right here.” you smooth his hair back as he lets his eye close and finally begin to rest.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

You wake up and groan as Aemonds side of the bed is empty. You feel for any warmth but it’s cold and you roll over and look at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off, you get up and walk over to Aelor’s crib and find him curled up next to the egg with his little fingers reaching out towards it. You brush his wisps of hair back before walking over to the table where you’re sure there’s a letter waiting for you.

Wife and my little son,

Please - for my sanity - do not leave these chambers until I return. I won’t be long, I just went to collect some things.

I’ve promised you a walk today - which I still plan to deliver.

I thought we could go to the library and we could read as a family. - Yes, I know you said the gardens.

Tonight is the full moon and I had hoped we might wish upon it as a family. - We’d have to go out a little earlier than normal.

My wish for the moon: Please don’t let my wife hate me for not letting her and Aelor out of our chambers.

You smile and walk the letter over to the side table and place it with your growing collection. You begin to dress for the day and a warmth settles over you when you hear Aelor start to coo. You quickly finish dressing and go scoop him out of his crib, placing kisses across his face. You carry him over to your chaise and curl up with him watching him smile and grab at your fingers.

You could stay like this all day, with the exception of having Aemond at your side, curled up with your son enjoying the silence and the song of the breeze through the windows. Though you can’t help but smile at the thought of being able to show your perfect son off. You rise with him and bring him over to the wardrobe to dress him for the day. You hear the door open and close before you hear the familiar steps.

“I half expected you both to be gone.” you can see relief wash through him from that not being the case.

“We would never dream of leaving you.” you walk over to him and he places his lips on your forehead before offering the same to Aelor. “And to address your letter we would never hate you, Aemond. We’re content here, with you.” you nod and he reaches down to press his lips to yours.

“How are you both?” you watch as he scans over the both of you.

“We’re very excited for you to take us to the library.” you smile up at him. “And to see his very first full moon.” you smile as Aemond brushes Aelors hair back.

“May I?” he holds his arms out and your eyes snap up to him.

“Aemond, of course.” you help place Aelor into his arms.

“He’s so perfect.” he whispers, looking down at him.

“Even if he threw up on you this morning?” he smiles and waves you off.

“Your mother is wrong.” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t even call it a spit up.” he traces his finger along his chin.

“Mm, is that why you changed your jerkin?” you hum walking back to the wardrobe to pick out clothing for Aelor.

Your heart swells as you hear Aemond silently coo and talk to Aelor and you push around different fabrics. You were secretly happy Aelor ruined his jerkin because you can finally have them match. You chew your lip pulling out the dark green fabric and basking in its softness. You hold it up and look over it smiling at his little buttons.

“It seems as if your mother is going to have us match today.” Aemond chuckles as he spots the green fabric in your hands.

“You two will look so handsome.” you coo.

“I thought we agreed that all three of us have to match?” he raises his brow walking over to you with Aelor. “Something about an early grave?” you purse your lips pretending to be lost in thought.

“I don’t recall.” you shake your head. You lift off Aelor’s current outfit and begin to pull the green over his head. “Oh my Gods,” you look up at Aemond. “Hold him next to you.” you nod quickly.

“Like this?” he cradles Aelor in one arm and you bring both of your hands to your cheeks.

“Aemond.” you softly coo. “You both look so handsome.” you push your bottom lip out. “My distinguished little gentlemen.” you walk over to them. “My sweet boys.” you smooth Aelor’s hair before cupping Aemonds cheek.

“Are you done?” your eyes snap up to him and you can see a hint of a smile.

“Nowhere near done.” you shake your head. “Let me just adjust some things.” you smile up at him quickly.

You start to adjust Aemonds hair and straighten out his jerkin. Aelor softly fusses when you smooth out his hair more. You move Aemonds arm to have Aelor more centered and push down his outfit from his neck. Aemond watches you with a small smile as you move them about as you please. You finally stand back and admire them both.

“May we escort you to the library?” he holds out Aelor’s arm to you and your heart melts.

“I would love nothing more.” you tickle Aelor’s neck before grabbing onto Aemonds other arm.

Aemond helps escort you down the stairs of your chambers and the second you step out into the hall you stop and look around to see if anything has changed. You have the same guard and the same tapestries adorn the walls all the way down the hall. There's a small buzz of people in the Keep at this early hour and you smile to finally be a part of it once more. You turn and brush Aelors cheek with your fingers before you take Aemonds arm.

The walk to the library is full of whispers to Aelor of his different surroundings. Aemond has kept a calculating eye on everything going on around the three of you. If someone walks too close he’s silently moving you to the otherside of the hall. You chuckle knowing what he’s doing and you pause and look up at him.

“Don’t you think people will want to see the new prince?” you raise your brow at him.

“We’re going on a walk to the library not a parade through the city.” he says louder than needed as he looks around at prying eyes. “If we stop for one person we will soon have a line.” you know he's right enough in the matter.

“Then let us go hideaway in the library.” you smile up at him, patting his arm.

He continues to lead you through the halls and when the massive wooden doors come into view a smile spreads across your face. Aemond pulls open the door for you and motions for you to walk towards his section. You watch as servants start to have tea prepared for you and light a couple of candles. You take your normal seat and open your arms for Aemond to place Aelor into.

Aemond pulls your book down from a shelf and takes his seat. When he turns his gaze to the both of you he’s glad he’s sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out. His wife and son, sitting in his chair, in his section. He brings the book to his lap and opens it in search of the last chapter you both left off on. You lean further back in the chair as Aemonds soft voice greets your ears. You begin to rub Aelors back as he starts to curl into your chest with heavy eyes.

“Do you think I’m boring him?” Aemond looks to you with a worried expression.

“No.” you shake your head once. “I think your voice is very soothing. Comforting. He probably feels safe and at ease.” you look down and see Aelor asleep on your chest.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.

“I would like that and I think Aelor would too.” you nod with a smile.

Aemond continues on with the story in somehow an even softer voice than the one he started with. He pauses after every chapter and asks if you want him to keep going. Aelor eventually wakes and fusses until you place him in Aemonds arms. Aemond brings the book back to his lap and watches as Aelor spreads his hand across the current page. You watch them with a warm expression as Aemond attempts to continue reading. After the next chapter he closes the book and sets it back on the table to give his full attention to Aelor.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy reading as much as we do?” Aemond watches as Aelor grabs at his rings.

“If we keep this up I’m sure he will. Soon he’ll have his own section in the library.” you chuckle.

“Maybe you’ll take over my section.” Aemond whispers down to your son.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aemond reading to the two of you in short spurts. It only took three times of asking if he could walk you three around the Keep until he agreed on the condition that he can turn everyone away who asks to speak with the three of you. He holds you closely and once he sees your eyes start to droop he insists that the three of you return to your chambers for a nap and you had no complaints with that idea.

ᓚᘏᗢ

The sun has barely passed the horizon and Aemond is trying to herd you and Aelor to the door with whispers that it’s almost Aelor’s bedtime and you should be fast asleep too. You bat his hands away which are immediately back on your waist as you start your descent down the stairs.

“Aemond, I know how to walk.” you sigh.

“I would prefer to carry you both.” you turn your head and he stops you on the stairs. “If you don’t pay attention I will.” his tone not joking.You turn your head back and start moving once more. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs you stop. “What’s wrong?” he steps in front of you.

“I figured you wouldn’t want me to touch the door. It might be too strenuous.” you purse your lips.

“You’re right.” you watch his lips twitch up and you flare your nostrils as he turns to reach for the door handle.

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hiss and his eye snaps back to yours.

“Yes?” he wraps his hands around your waist.

“I’m not going to break.” you huff.

“I’m aware.” he presses his lips to yours in hopes of removing the soft scowl. “Can I not just dote on you? Is it not my job to do everything for you?” he pulls back.

“There’s a difference between doting and overbearing.” you hum and step past him to open the door and walk through.

“I’m sorry.” he makes his way to your side quickly. “Please don’t be mad at me.” he whispers and you stop once more. “Please, I’m sorry.” his heart starts to beat faster at the thought of upsetting you.

“I’m not mad at you.” you look up at him. “Now give me a kiss, offer me your arm, and take us to the gardens to look upon the moon.” you wait expectantly and you watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He presses his lips to yours before placing them on Aelors forehead and holding out his arm for you. He bites his tongue when you start down the main stairs and takes a step closer to you. You glance at him and he is already staring at you, calculating your every step.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers once the three of you make it to the main hall.

“Like I’m going to ask the full moon for you to relax.” you turn to him.

“Do you still love me?” he searches your eyes.

“My Gods Aemond of course.” you press your hand to his chest. “I love you more than life itself.” you cup his cheek. “I might love you even more if you take us out to the gardens as promised.” you smile up at him.

“You’re sure you still love me?” he steps closer to you.

“I’m sure.” your reach up and bring his lips to yours.

He starts to escort you once again through the main hall and you sigh in relief at the soft breeze that greets you once the three of you make it outside. You smile as you enter the gardens and adjust Aelor so he can look at all of the life growing around you. Aemond stays glued to your side and an arm hovering around you as you walk Aelor up to different flowers.

“This was the first place your father took me when we met.” Aemond’s heart skips at your words. “We’ve been coming here ever since.” you whisper carrying him deeper into the gardens. “Tonight is very special.” you turn to Aemond as you enter the small courtyard.

“It’s the full moon.” Aemond leans down and smooths Aelor’s wayward strands. “If you make a wish upon it when it’s full it’ll come true. I’ll make sure of it.” you smile watching Aemond softly talk to him.

“What your father didn’t tell you is that he’s actually the moon.” Aemonds eye snaps up to you. “He makes sure we have anything and everything we wish for.” you nod. “We’ll wish for you for the next couple of years but soon you’ll be able to do it on your own with us and you can teach your siblings.” your smile widens. “We can make wishes as a family.” you look up to Aemond and see that his eye is glossy.

“You want to have more?” he whispers.

“You didn’t think I’d be content with just one?” you tilt your head.

“How many do you want?” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“At least two more.” you nod.

“And at most?” he tilts his head.

“Four more?” he nods his head quickly.

“Yes, I would like that.” he rubs circles into your sides sending warmth throughout your body.. “It’s always up to you. I’ll be content with any number of children.” he lets his mind wander to your chambers filled with children running around and giggling. “A family.”

“Let’s make our wishes before you start crying.” you cup his face.

“I’m not crying.” he purses his lips.

“Mhm.” you nod, wiping your thumb under his eye collecting the tear. “I love you so very much.” you whisper up at him.

“It sounds as if you might cry now.” he watches your cheeks flush. “And I love you more.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Look up to the moon so I can get you both back into bed.” he tilts your head up to the sky.

You let your eyes close and Aemond does the same, never letting his hands leave your sides. He smiles when he feels Aelor grab onto his arm and he cracks his eye open and looks down at him. He watches as his face spreads with a smile and he reaches up to Aemond. You open your eyes when you feel Aemond start to scoop Aelor out of your arms.

“My wish was to hold him and to offer you a dance.” he holds out his free hand.

“Let us dance on our balcony while he sleeps.” you offer him a warm smile.

“I would like that.” he nods. “What did you wish for tonight, my beautiful wife?” he hums, pulling you closer.

“I had wished for us to dance.” you chew your lip. “And for you to let me kiss you until I fall asleep as I once used to do.”

“Then let me keep you waiting no longer.” he offers you his arm.

You curl into his side as he leads you three back to your chambers. Aelor quickly falls asleep in his crib allowing Aemond to whisk you out to the balcony. His hands are on your waist instantly as he begins to sway the both of you across the stone. As the breeze begins to cool you a bit too much and Aemond scoops you up and brings you back inside.

“This is how I would prefer to take you around the Keep.” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. “Now let me go get your sleep dress so I can give you your kisses.” he sets you on the bed, letting his lips linger on yours longer than necessary.

“Or might you just stay here for a little while?” you mumble against his lips. “Please?” you hold him closer and sigh when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You try to pull him onto the bed with you and he starts to chuckle.

“This is more than just kisses.” he kisses down to your neck.

“Please.” you whisper. “Aemond please,” you whine.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” he smiles as you shudder when he licks up your neck. “I can tell you’re going to fall asleep soon.” he lifts up and chuckles as you try to pull him back.

You watch him with a pout as he walks over to your wardrobe and pulls out a night dress for you. He stops to check on Aelor before walking back over to you on the bed. He bites his lip looking and you lidded eyes as you fight to stay awake. He helps you undress and brings your wandering hands to his mouth to place kisses against each finger.

“Go to bed and I’ll kiss you as much as you want when you wake up.” he pulls the covers up to your chin.

“I’ll stay awake.” you whine.

“Your eyes are shutting before me.” he smiles.

“No.” you shake your head and curl against him as he gets into bed.

“One more kiss.” he nods and you reach up and bring his lips to yours.

“One more.” you mumble against him.

“Rest.” he hums and kisses your forehead.

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Over the past couple of weeks Aemond has slowly relaxed and gone back to a regular sleeping schedule. Aelor is happy and healthy, though this doesn’t stop Aemond from darting to his side when he makes a noise. He’s hesitant to think about the egg, let alone even look at it for too long. He wants it to hatch so badly but maybe that’s why it’s not.

Maybe since he didn’t have an egg his son's egg will never hatch. It could all be his fault. He could be the reason Aelor grows up like him. Picked on and-

“Aemond.” you grab onto his arm. “Staring at the egg isn’t going to make it hatch.” your words soft.

“Do you think it’s my fault it hasn’t hatched?” he continues to stare down at the colored egg.

“Not at all. You’ve been quite the doting mother hen to that egg.” he turns to you with a squinted eye. “I joke.” you cup his cheek. “I believe it’s up to the Gods if his egg will hatch. It will be no one’s ‘fault’ if it does not. You are doing everything right.” you look into his eye and nod.

“So I should keep doting upon the egg?” the corners of his mouth shift up.

“I had hoped you might dote upon me?” you tilt your head. “I would just like some kisses.” you nibble on your lip. “For now.” he chuckles.

“I could indulge you in a kiss or two.” he hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

The moment his lips touch yours it’s as if all of his worry and doubt drift away. He’s never felt more wanted than when you cling against him trying to be as close as possible. How quickly you open your mouth and invite him in eagerly. The small noises you make when he squeezes into your sides and- He’s pulling off of you and turning back to the crib.

“He probably just moved.” you whine trying to tug him back.

“It’s happening.” he shakes his head. “There’s a crack. It’s moving. What do we do? Do we take Aelor out? I need-“ he cuts himself off, not ready to say that name after the words ‘I need,’ and looks between you and Aelor. “I’ll be right back.” he’s thudding down the stairs, leaving you to look after him with wide eyes.

Aemond doesn’t care about the early hour. He just prays he’s sober enough to help. He doesn’t hesitate at the guard as he pushes himself into his brother's chambers. He walks over to his bed and shakes his shoulder. Aegon pushes his hand away and Aemond yanks him harder.

“Get up.” Aemond hisses. “If you want to be a family, get up. The egg is hatching and I don’t know what to do.” the words taste foreign on his tongue and he watches Aegon's eyes snap open.

“Alright.” Aegon nods. “Let’s go.” he rises from the bed and so do Aemonds eyebrows.

“Put something on. My wife and child are there.” he strides over to Aegon's wardrobe. “Quickly.” he snaps, tossing trousers and a tunic. He pulls Aegon out of his chambers and down the hall once he’s clothed.

“My Gods, slow down.” Aegon groans. “And get me some water.” he looks up at the stairs to your chambers with tired eyes before he starts his climb.

“You will have nothing if you don’t help.” you hear Aemonds curt tone as he and Aegon make it to the landing. “Did anything happen?” Aemond is back at your side. “Do we take him out of the crib?” he turns back to Aegon.

“First we relax and tell me where the water is.” Aegon looks around.

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. “Come check on the egg and my son first.” he glares at Aegon.

“Aemond, it's just water.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Aelor is fine.” you nod up at him.

“Alright.” Aegon groans and walks over to the crib. “What a handsome boy. You did well, brother.” he grins across the crib at Aemond.

“What of the egg?” Aemond presses looking down at Aelor and the egg.

“It’s hatching.” Aegon nods. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Should we leave him with the egg?” Aemond looks over to him.

“Yes.” he nods. “Was that enough to merit me a cup of water?” Aegon blinks at Aemond expectantly.

“I suppose.” Aemond nods his head to the table holding the water pitcher and Aegon is next to it shortly after. “So what happens now?” he brings his attention back to Aelor and the cracking egg.

“You see when an egg cracks, brother,” Aegon walks over to him. “Something usually comes out.” Aemond flares his nostrils at Aegon's tone.

“I’m aware.” he says through his teeth. You hold on to his arm tighter hoping it’ll offer him some comfort. “Should we call for the keepers?” his tone a fraction smoother.

“I figured you already called for them.” Aegon raises his brow, sipping on the water. “So you came to me first?” he smiles. “Do not look at me like that. I’ll go call for them.” he waves Aemond off and walks back down the stairs.

Aemond’s mind is racing as he keeps his eye on the crib. He refuses to believe an actual dragon is hatching mere feet from him. His little son's very own dragon. You look up at Aemond and see his slightly flushed cheeks and reach up to cup his face and slowly turn him towards you.

“What’s wrong?” you take in his glossy eye.

“I’m just so happy for our son. For Aelor. He gets his own dragon. His very own.” his voice barely audible. “There’s soon to be too many people here for me to be this emotional.” he shakes his head and you wipe under his eye.

“Might I have a hug?” you whisper and Aemond grabs your hand from his face and pulls you against him. “I would still like to have my other kisses later.” you whisper and you feel his small chuckle in his chest, thankful for your distracting words.

“I could provide those for you.” he whispers and starts to pull back.

“The keepers will be here shortly.” Aegon announces as he makes it to the stop of the stairs once more. “Might you both pick different chambers? I already tire of these stairs.” Aegon groans, going to refill his cup of water once more.

“All the more to keep them. If they’ll deter you from barging in then I think they’re perfect.” you look up at Aemond as if you’re telling him to be nice.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you have more children.” Aegon waves him off. “The offer is always there.” his words are followed by a quick knock and the voice of the keepers coming up the stairs.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” the keeper looks to Aemond before walking over to the crib. “A healthy boy. No wonder his egg is hatching already.” the man muses.

“Should we have taken him out of the crib? Is there something more I should be doing? Would you like some water?” Aemond rapid fires questions at the keeper.

“He is perfectly fine in the crib. There is nothing for us to do besides wait. Though looking at the egg.. Ten minutes maybe.. Maybe more..” the man shrugs and Aemond nods before turning back to you.

“What did he say?” you look up at him. “I also think you sound so very elegant when you speak in that tongue.” you whisper and watch a small flush spread across his cheeks.

“The egg will hatch soon. We just have to wait now.” he turns his attention back down to Aelor and watches as you reach in and smooth his hair.

“Does the dragon stay here with us?” you look up at him. “Am I now raising our boy and his dragon?” your mind races on how you would even go about doing that.

“Not necessarily.” Aegon comes to Aemonds side. “Of course it’s so tiny now so it’ll spend more time with Aelor here to help strengthen their bond. When it grows and my Gods do they grow fast, it’ll be housed in the pits that you can visit.. If Aemond releases you from these chambers.” he lets out a small giggle.

“Aegon.” Aemond warns.

“Relax brother,.” Aegon sighs. “The keepers will tell you everything.” he looks up at him.

The three of you watch the egg slowly crack more and you hear Aemond’s inhale as Aelor slowly wakes. His eye widens when Aegon's hand enters the crib and pinches his little cheeks. Aelor lets out a small coo and turns his head towards the egg. You watch with wide eyes as he grabs onto the crack and you feel Aemond stiffen. Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and whispers lowly.

“Let him. He’s safe. There are plenty of people here who know what they’re doing.” Aemond looks down at Aegon and where his hand is placed on his arm.

“And you’re one of the people who know what you’re doing?” Aemond scoffs.

“You did come get me first.” he chuckles.

As Aemond goes to retort there's a more prominent cracking sound. The keepers slowly walk over and soon the crib is surrounded by watching eyes. You grab onto Aemonds arm and lean closer into his side. A short shriek is heard followed by another crack. You watch as Aelor grabs at the egg and pulls a piece of its shell off. You gasp when you see an eye before it disappears once more.

“Are you nervous?” Aegon whispers.

“Be quiet.” Aemond hisses.

“So you are.” Aemond turns his head and Aegon bites his lips to stifle his laughter. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t kick me out.” he nods back to the egg.

You and Aemond inhale at the same time when Aelor pushes his little hand into the growing hole. When he pulls it out you see a small tail wrapped around his wrist before it slips back into the egg. You watch as Aelor pushes his hand into the egg once more, slowly scooting towards it. He pulls another piece of the egg off and your eyes widen as the dragon is now blinking up at everyone. Aelor grabs the dragon and brings it to his side.

“He has a dragon.” Aemond whispers.

“He does.” Aegon grins.

“His very own.” you look up at Aemond and squeeze his arm, knowing how emotional this is for him.

“What are you doing?” Aemond is stepping forward when the keeper grabs for the dragon.

“We must examine him.” the man nods and scoops the dragon out of the crib.

“Will you bathe him as well?” Aemond looks at the mess starting to spread across Aelor’s linens.

“Of course.” the man nods and turns to the other keepers before walking to the bathing chambers.

“They’re cleaning the dragon so we can change Aelor’s sheets.” he turns to you. “Let’s go find him a fresh set.” he holds onto your arm as if it’s his lifeline.

“Then I suppose it’s just me and you left.” Aegon chuckles and scoops Aelor out of the crib.

Aemond glances at Aegon and Aelor before deciding Aegon probably knows what he’s doing in that sense too. He shakes his head, not quite ready to accept all of Aegon’s help. Aemond helps you pick out a clean pair of sheets and walks back over to the crib to strip it. You grab a change of clothing for Aelor and hand it to Aegon who smiles up at you from the chaise.

The next couple minutes in your chambers consists of everyone cleaning and preparing to bring Aelor and his dragon back together. Aegon stands once he has Aelor changed and brings him over to the crib. Aemond takes Aelor from his hands and nods once at Aegon who is well aware that is the only thanks he’ll receive. The keepers come back over and place the small dragon in the crib and nod at Aemond to do the same with Aelor.

“How is the dragon?” Aemond looks across to the keeper.

“He is well.” Aemond smiles. “We will leave you. Someone will return to care for the dragon and remain down the hall to offer the three of you reprieve until he is no longer fit for the Keep. They will help feed him and help instruct you on anything you should need. Your brother also knows a great deal and could offer you his wisdom.” Aemond chokes back a laugh at Aegons ‘wisdom’ and wonders if he’s ever seen it.

“Thank you.” Aemond nods at the man.

The keeper nods at you and Aegon as well before taking one last look in the crib with a smile spread across his face. The keepers wave before they leave the three of you to look down at the crib. Aegon looks between Aemond and you and smiles before walking over to the table holding the water once more.

“I will leave you three. I’ll have them house the keeper close by and I’ll have your guard tell you where. Should you both need anything else don’t hesitate to ask. All I ask is a nicer wake up and maybe some water before I’m dragged out of my chambers.” he raises his cup of water before starting towards the stairs.

“Wait,” Aemond calls out. “Thank you,” he nods when Aegon turns. “Brother.” Aemond groans at the smile that spreads across Aegon's face.

“Would you like a hug baby brother?” Aemond scoffs.

“No. Leave us.” Aemond waves him off.

“One day.” Aegon calls over his shoulder as he starts down the stairs.

You watch as Aemond stares down into Aelors crib with a furrowed brow. He inhales when your hand enters the crib to brush back Aelors hair. You then bring your delicate touch to the dragon's head and he slowly blinks his eyes open. He lets out a small purr before curling back up with your son.

“I know nothing of raising a dragon.” you turn and whisper up at Aemond.

“You know some from our readings.” he hums.

“Mm, shall I start to work towards becoming a dragon keeper?” you purse your lips.

“My wife, you’re perfect at everything so if that is what your heart desires then I have the utmost faith in you.” he pulls you against him. “But the keeper will remain down the hall and if it’s too much we can always just bring the dragon to Aegon and he’ll deal with it.” he brushes your hair back.

“Speaking of Aegon..” you look up at him with a raised brow. “I see that your relationship with him is improving.” you don’t want to pry but it warms your heart seeing them hopefully start to mend bridges.

“We’ll see.” Aemond starts to lead you back to the bed. “For now I would like to finish offering you the kisses you asked for while our son sleeps with his dragon.” he can’t help the grin on his face at that statement.

“Maybe soon we can have my handmaidens keep Aelor overnight.” he steps back and looks at you with a raised brow.

“Why?” he presses his lips to yours once.

“So I might enjoy my husband for the night.” you pull his lips back down to yours. “I miss you.” you whine against his lips.

“I rarely leave your side.” he chuckles, helping you lay back on the bed. “And when I do it’s under an hour.” he starts to crawl over you.

“Must I tell you what I miss?” you pout, pulling him down to you.

“Yes.” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me.” he kisses down to your neck enjoying your small breaths.

“You haven’t filled me in almost two months now.” you whine softly as he starts to suck on your neck.

“You’re still fragile.” he lets his teeth graze against your skin.

“I’m not.” you grab onto the back of his jerkin. “Please.” you whisper.

“Ask me again in a couple of weeks.” he kisses back up to your pursed lips.

“I won’t break.” you furrow your brows.

“No, but you deserve one. You just brought our child into this world.” he presses his lips to yours.

“Let me bring us another.” it’s taking all of his restraint not to take you at your breathy words.

“Two weeks.” he grabs your wandering hands and places them at your side. “It’ll just be like the lead up to our wedding.” he presses his lips all over your face. “Now let me go check on our son and his dragon before you take advantage of me in my emotional state.” he starts to detach from you.

He chuckles at your soft string of curses as you try to pull him back to you. You rise from the bed and smooth your skirts before returning to his side once more. Your son is curled up with his dragon and looks like a perfect little prince.

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You’ve been trying to get Aemonds attention for the past two weeks now but he has resisted all of your advances. The amount of sheer slips you’ve had your handmaidens bring in makes it seem like you’re running a pleasure house. You’ve even gone so far as to sleep naked and he simply covers you with the covers and curls into your side.

Tonight officially marks the two week mark he set. Gods know why he’s making you wait, you’re ready to combust at the thought of him. Aelor is with your handmaidens for the night and his dragon is with the keepers. Your chambers are clean and there are candles spread throughout offering a warm light. You pace around looking for something to do until you hear the door open. You sprint over to your chaise and spread the sheer silk around your body.

“Mm, what is the occasion?” Aemond is fully aware that it is exactly two weeks since he told you to wait.

“Aemond,” you whine. “I’m begging at this point.” you go to get on your knees.

“No, no.” he shakes his head with a smile. “That’s my spot.” he sinks to his knees before you. “I have also been counting down the days, my insatiable wife.” he presses his lips up one of your calves. “Aelor is with your handmaidens for the entire night?” he looks up at you with a dark eye.

“Yes.” you nod quickly.

“Mm,” he continues to kiss up to your thigh, smiling at how you tremble. “And what is it that you want to do tonight?” he looks up at your already heaving chest.

“Aemond please,” you spread your legs before him, not caring anymore. “Please,” you groan as he starts to kiss your other calf, enjoying your breathy begging.

He kisses up to your thigh once more and pulls back softly chuckling at your whine. You look down at him with a soft pout until you feel him starting to push your slip up further. He can see you center glistening in the candle light and looks back up to your pleading eyes. He looks across your body and nods knowing you won’t be getting any type of sleep tonight.

“You are so very beautiful.” you let out a small whimper at his words. Your nails dig into the plush chaise as he licks up your center. He groans at your sweetness and grabs onto your hips to pull you closer. “Please let me know if it’s too much or if it doesn’t feel right.” he looks up at you.

“Please just-“ you let out a soft cry as he buries his head between your thighs once more. “Yes,” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your bud.

He rubs circles into your hips as he continues to lap at you listening to your sounds. You slowly roll your hips against his face and he quickens his movements pulling a gasp from you. He groans as he moves his tongue down to your core and finds your pooling wetness. He moves back up to your bud and encases it and sees your stomach flex.

“Aemond.” you whine, grabbing onto one of his arms. “I’m- I, please,” soft pleas continue to fall from your mouth as he moves his tongue faster. With another cry of his name you fall apart on his face. “Oh,” you jolt as he starts to move his tongue even faster.

Aemond can’t get enough of your sounds, it’s been far too long. Gods and your taste and the way you’re gripping onto his arm is spurring him on even more. He moves his other arm and circles one of his fingers around your entrance before slowly dipping it inside. Your broken whimpers are all he needs to hear before he starts pumping into you.

He looks up at you and sees that your slip has shifted and he groans looking at your breasts. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on the pleasure he’s offering you. When he pushes another finger into you, your pleasure begins to build rapidly. You start arching off the chaise when he pushes his fingers into you faster. He smiles as he laps at you and he hears your wetness coating his fingers.

“Aem, I’m, please yes.” you squeak and pulse around his fingers.

“Was that good?” he slowly slips his fingers out and sits back, slipping them into his mouth. “You taste very good.” you whimper at his words.

“Take off your clothes. I need you.” you reach for him but he’s already grabbed onto the hem of your slip and is pulling it over your head.

“Are these still sensitive?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers against your nipples. Your small whimpers tell him everything he needs to know. He rolls the peaks between his fingers and watches you squeeze your legs shut.

“Aemond please,” you grip his wrists.

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you and lifts you to carry you to the bed. You pull at his clothes desperately and whine when he lays you back on the bed. You go to stand but stop when you find him removing his layers. At each reveal of his skin you spread your legs wider. Once he’s bare he crawls into bed with you and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as you can.

“Fill me.” you plead into his mouth. “Please,” you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fill me, I need it.” Aemond chuckles but lines up at your entrance nonetheless.

He slowly pushes in and watches your face relax as small moans pour from your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth and feel. When he settles within you he brings his lips to yours and slowly starts to rock his hips. You’re squeezing around him tightly and he’s trying to focus on kissing you to truly enjoy the feeling.

“Move.” you jerk your hips. “Please.” your breath catches as he snaps his hips.

“Hush.” he presses his lips to yours once more. “Let me just relish in the feel of you, my perfect wife.” he murmurs and kisses down to your neck. “I probably don’t even have to move to make you come undone.” he smirks against your skin as he brings his thumb down to your bud.

“Yes,” you dig your nails into his back. He nibbles at your neck as he continues to swirl his thumb around your aching bud. “Please,” you hold him tighter.

“I can feel how close you are.” he whispers into your neck, starting to roll his hips into yours. “Come for me and I’ll start moving.” he stills his hips once more and you let out a strained whimper. Your body is humming with pleasure as you moan out his name repeatedly.

“Aemond I’m-“ you gasp as your pleasure slams through you.

“Just like that.” Aemond lifts his head up and starts to pump into you. “You’re so perfect.” he presses his lips to yours. “Already wanting to be swollen with our child again.” his pace quickens at his words.

“Yes.” you pant trying to nod your head. “Please let me.” you whine feeling your legs start to tremble from pleasure.

“I’ll keep you filled with children as long as you please.” after every snap of his hips he rolls them into you after.

“Thank you.” the two words slightly pleasure slurred as he continues with his pace. “Tha- mm-

“Fuck,” he groans as you pulse around him causing his pleasure to slam through him.

You sigh with a smile as you feel his warmth spread throughout you. He presses his lips to yours as you both slowly rock against each other not quite ready to separate. You both stay sealed together until you both pull back with swollen lips, softly panting. He pulls out of you and watches a small frown form on your face.

“We’re not done.” he kisses your lips. “I just need some water.” he chuckles before getting out of bed. “Would you like anything?” he glances over his shoulder watching you still spread out in the bed.

“To be filled again.” he tilts his head back and laughs at your words.

“In a moment.” he hums and slows his stride enjoying your whining filling your chambers.

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masterlist ⏾ wips ⏾ taglist

sorry this took me so long sometimes i get stuck on scenes and forget i can skip around the chapter and finish other scenes 🫠

im prob going to continue my sibling agenda and next chap is going to be a time skip of prob like 3yrs UGH i just want these babies up and talking !!! dad aemond is going to send me to my grave so be patient w me plss

also feeling emo so i love u all who love this story with me and if you have any cute little family and/or dad scenes you want me to try and bring to light lmk and ill sneak it in 👉🏻👈🏻 ok ily bye

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine

#hey so ill never be chill about this series and im not sorry abt that!!!!#dad aemond has me in a choke hold rn #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

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yoongelectric · 3 days ago

Text

Make the time - CA

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, established relationship

warnings: pet names, p in v, rough sex, oral (both receiving), fingering, edging, doggy style, choking

notes: english isn’t my first language. everything written in cursive is supposed to be spanish, as a spanish speaker i find it cringy when writers put random words in other languages so i couldn’t bring myself to do it sorry 🙏🏻🙏🏻

summary: after weeks of not seeing each other you decided to surprise your boyfriend on his vacation

You had already lost count of how many days it had been since you had last seen Carlos, your work and the tennis season had made it impossible for you to coincide and although your boyfriend had asked you over and over again to go on vacation with him now that the season had ended, you felt a pain in your chest every time you had to say no, your responsibilities were not something you could abandon whenever you wanted, not that it wasn't a tempting idea, your insufferable boss, all the extra hours you worked without being paid enough and the horrible work environment got you closer and closer to quitting.

It was on a cold Monday in January when you woke up to a message from your boyfriend saying good morning and a photo of him lying under the sun on a yacht, his hair just at that length you loves, a pleasure that you could have very few days a year before your boyfriend's barber ruined his brown locks, his skin tanned by the Brazilian sun and the light reflecting on his toned muscles made you start the day with a burning sensation between your legs.

The deep void you felt in your chest from missing your boyfriend so much and this morning when your boss seemed especially irritable formed a tragic mix making you explode and finally quit, you knew you would regret your impulsive decision but at least now you hated your life a little less.

Proud of yourself for the decision you made, you called your boyfriend to tell him, but it went straight to voicemail, you started to think about what could he be doing, swimming maybe? taking a nap? having lunch with his friends? then you had an idea, you would find out for yourself.

Excited by the thought of surprising him, you texted Alvaro asking him to help you out, you bought the first plane ticket to where your boyfriend was, you packed your suitcase full of flowy dresses and tiny bikinis and you headed to the airport.

On his part, Carlos was checking phone all the time. You hadn't answered his calls all day. He knew that it was already nighttime in Spain and he was starting to worry. His friends' attempts to distract him with music and alcohol only managed to piss him off more and just when he was about to call you once again, his brother's voice took him out of his thoughts.

"Carlos, put that phone down, man, look, I brought you a girl to distract you a little" Alvaro's joking tone went unnoticed by Carlos, who was about to tell him to fuck off, but that’s when he saw you

He got up in a hurry and ran to hug you, with so much emotion that he lifted your feet off the ground.

"I can't believe you're here, love, I almost beat the shit out of Alvaro. Did you got days off? How long are you staying?" Your boyfriend began to ask non-stop, in disbelief that he finally had you there with him. He grabbed your face and looked at you for a few seconds. "You're really here, I'm not imagining it." He smiled, hugging you again and making you laugh full of joy

He realized he had been holding you for too long when his friends told him to let you go so they could greet you too.

The night went by peacefully, y’all had dinner, a couple of drinks and lost track of time talking about everything and nothing at the same time, you’d always liked your boyfriend's friends so you only noticed what time it was when you saw that your boyfriend's eyes began to close on your lap while you caressed his hair.

"Carlos, are you sleepy? We can go to bed if you want" your boyfriend nodded his head and you could notice the subtle giggles of those who were still there, to whom Carlos gave a threatening look.

You got up and took your boyfriend's hand who led you to his room, it was small but cozy, with a nice navy vibe to get you into the vacation atmosphere, you felt Carlos's arms wrap around your waist from behind and his lips giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you so much, dear, thank you for coming."

"I think today's events prove that I was going to go crazy if I went one more day without seeing you" you grabbed his hands and leaned against him enjoying his touch, the relaxation your boyfriend provided made you yawn.

"Let's go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll have the whole day just for us" your boyfriend said smiling at you as he lay down and extended his arms for you to throw yourself on him.

You don't know how long it had been since you fell asleep but your restless boyfriend woke you up. The room felt hot and his breathing was heavy, you moved your hips slightly and felt his hardened member poke your ass.

"Baby, haven't you fallen asleep yet?" You rubbed your eyes trying to get the sleep away.

"sorry, y/n, I didn't want to wake you up, you can go back to sleep" he hugged you again and you heard him grunt as his pelvis touched your hips, your tiredness was dissipating more and more and the only thing you felt was a growing desire for the man next to you.

"Carlos, just say the word and I'll help you that, love" you laughed softly.

"No, beautiful, you're tired, I don't want to bother you, we have plenty of time for that, it's just that having you here in my arms after so long…I just can't help it." He took a deep breath and the air made the hairs on your neck shiver. "I'll go fix it myself."

"You're not going anywhere." You stopped him with your hand on his chest and straddled him. "I'm awake now."

Your boyfriend smiled under you and pulled you by the neck towards him to kiss you hard and passionately, you moaned into his mouth and rocked your hips on him, gently grabbing his hair, you felt his erection in your pussy getting harder and your boyfriend's hands holding your hips and moving you back and forth on his dick.

Carlos moved his hands under your shirt, grabbing your breasts and circling his fingers on your nipples, making the wet patch on your underwear grow by the second.

“carlos, please- just” a moan escaped your mouth as your back arched into his hand.

"shh, love, you have to be quiet, tell me what you want me to do to you" your boyfriend whispered in your ear, going down to kiss your neck, sucking and biting leaving purple marks on your delicate skin.

"You're not doing anything, I want to make you feel good" you said, trailing kisses from his neck to his stomach, your boyfriend's habit of sleeping only in his boxers giving you easy access to his skin, you sucked and licked his toned abs while your hand played with the waistline of his boxers.

"shit, I missed you so much, I'm dying to have your big cock in my mouth" you continued teasing him, kissing his member over his underwear, you felt how your boyfriend pushed his hips against your mouth indicating that he couldn't stand it anymore

"then do it, stop playing with me, princess"

You freed his dick from the confinement of his boxers and watched hypnotized as it hit his stomach, hard as a rock and the tip angry red, the vein that ran along one side swollen from the amount of blood that passed through it and a drop of precum coming out, your mouth watering, licked along his shaft while your hand expertly played with his balls, you looked up meeting your boyfriend's look of pleasure, Carlos looked so handsome like that, lips pursed and his brow furrowed looking at you with lust.

You could only think about making him feel good, so you grabbed his cock with one hand and wrapped your lips around his tip, your tongue drawing circles on it, your boyfriend held your hair into a ponytail but he didn’t push your head yet, he just needed to grab something and see your face clearly.

You pumped your head a few times, your tongue pressing against his length, working to open your throat so you could take more and more of him, until your nose was pressing against his pelvis.

After being there for a few seconds, you let go of his dick, a string of drool connecting your mouth and his member, your thumb gently caressing his slit as you spoke.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, baby, use me however you want, Carlos"

“shit, y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.”

A moan of pleasure escaped from your mouth when your boyfriend pushed your head down his cock, at first he took it slow, feeling how your tongue worked skillfully on him, but when he finally lost control he began to fuck your face without mercy, the only thing you could hear were both of your moans and your gagging, squeezing your throat over his cock.

your boyfriend's face of pleasure turned blurry by the tears that accumulated in your eyes and fell down your face, but you wouldn't have wanted it any other way, you missed so much when your boyfriend used you just the way he liked, being quiet because of the people sleeping in the next rooms had been long forgotten.

your boyfriend pulled your hair to get you off his cock

"shit, love, I need to fuck you, I want to cum in that pussy of yours"

You wiped the drool around your mouth and the tears that ran down your cheeks with the back of your hand and lay down with your back on the pillows.

"damn, so wet just for me, I love you so much, sweetheart"

Your boyfriend ran two of his fingers through your folds, applying pressure to your clit as he leaned down to suck on your nipples, your back arching and your hips thrusting into his hand seeking more friction.

"Carlos, please, more, make me cum, please, I need it" you couldn't think straight, the only thing that came out of your mouth were pleas.

"as you wish, beautiful" without warning the hand on your clit was replaced by his tongue, his hands gripping your hips tightly and pressing you against him.

Shocked by how sensitive you were, you tried to close your legs over his head, but his strong arms stopped you.

Carlos's tongue worked quickly over your clit, sending you over the edge in seconds. You gripped the sheets tightly, and your head leaned further onto the pillows, and just as you felt your climax about to hit you, your boyfriend pulled away from you.

The cry of frustration you left made Carlos laugh.

"not yet, y/n" his hands moved to caress your thighs while he left kisses on your stomach "not so quick, let me enjoy you a little longer"

"we can stay up all night, carlos, but please I need it now" you felt like crying

"oh you can count on us being up all night"

You felt him ease two fingers into your hole in a single movement, curving them inside you and pumping them while pressing down on your stomach, overstimulating you with pleasure, he stretched out his thumb to draw random figures on your clit.

"Come on, make a mess on my fingers, beautiful"

His words like a trigger making you finish on his fingers with a moan of his name, his movements slowed down and went softer waiting for you to come down from your high.

"Fuck me now, I want you inside, love"

"God, woman, you are insatiable" your boyfriend laughed, flipping you so that you were on all fours.

You looked over your shoulder, smiling at him, “and you love me for that.”

Your boyfriend slapped your ass, watching it jiggle hypnotized, leaning in to kiss and bite your cheeks.

"Fucking hell, I'll never get enough of you"

"Carlos, please"

You felt him spread your buttocks with one hand and ran his dick through your folds to collect your juices. eased his cock inside you in one movement and you heard him grunt as he pulled your hair. He stood still waiting for you to adjust to his size

"Move, baby, i want it hard please" the desperate look you gave him making him lose all control.

Your boyfriend began to slam his hips onto you, slow but hard, making you feel every inch, the grip on your hip and the slaps on your ass surely leaving marks that you would have to cover tomorrow.

Your moans and his grunts were the only thing that filled the room as the two of you seeked your orgasms.

"Carlos, I'm so close"

At your words, Carlos pulled you towards his chest by your neck, choking you just right and drawing circles on your bundle of nerves.

"Then come for me, I want to feel you finish on my cock, princess"

the way you grabbed his thigh and your walls clenched on his member made him cum at the same time as you, filling you with his seed.

"God, thank you, I love you, you are the love of my life" you heard your boyfriend whisper in your ear as he squeezed your breasts and slowed down his thrusts.

Your boyfriend pulled away, and after quickly cleaning you up, and lying down he hugged you from behind.

"I missed you so much, you don't know how happy I am that you're here" Carlos said as he gave you kisses on your shoulder.

too tired to answer you just smiled at him and held his hand, falling asleep in seconds.

#carlos alcaraz x you #carlos alcaraz imagine #carlos alcaraz smut #carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #tennis x reader #tennis fic #tennis

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moeitsu · 2 days ago

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The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 7 - Bound Beneath a Sirens Song Summary: With a storm looming on the horizon, the air crackles with an undeniable energy—every moment, every touch is charged like lightning waiting to strike. When Arthur invites you to take a swim, how could you possibly refuse? After all, it’s just a swim... what harm could come from that? wc: 11k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Longer chapter, got a little carried away. But reader finally gets to kissy on her fishy :3 (also like 80% of this takes place underwater, so pls don’t read too much into the logic of it)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @ilovethatforyousworld @gatodebiquini @onyxlune @bomdada

I was searching for trouble and I knew it

The pull toward him was undeniable, like the tide dragging me into deeper waters, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it. There were a thousand reasons why I should pack up my things and head home, but none of them were strong enough to make me leave. Every day, his voice echoed in the back of my mind, a secret siren song ringing in my ears, impossible to ignore.

I told myself this was an adventure—something new, something extraordinary. When in my life would I ever experience something like this again? But deep down, I knew it was more than that. He wasn’t just some fascinating creature to be studied, he was a person. A complicated, intriguing, wonderful person who had been through hell and somehow still found the strength to trust. Over the past week, I had watched him transform before my eyes, shedding his fear and anger like an old skin. Seeing that change unfold lit something warm and dangerous in my chest.

I knew I was going down with this ship, but I refused to raise the white flag in surrender.

Not when he had come so far. Not when I had seen the way his shoulders relaxed when he listened to Mary-Beth ramble about her favorite books, or how he watched Tilly’s hands with quiet fascination as she scribbled down notes and hypotheses, pausing only to tap her pen against her lip in thought. He was still wary of the men, his trust slower to form, but he was trying. And that effort—it meant everything.

Tilly pestered him with inquisitive, practical questions, always seeking to unravel the mysteries of his existence. She wanted to know what he remembered about his mother, about his people, about the depths of the ocean he had never been free to explore. She wanted to see his lights up close, to hear the cadence of his native tongue, to piece together the puzzle of his biology with a scientific curiosity. At first, Arthur was hesitant, his answers clipped, wary. But I was always there with them, and at times, it felt like he looked to me for permission. A gentle smile, a small nod, and his face would soften just slightly, his bioluminescence flickering to life.

It was as if I was telling him, Go ahead. You’re safe to be yourself here.

Mary-Beth, on the other hand, was smitten with his personality. She had a habit of chatting his ear off, switching from one topic to another with the ease of someone who never ran out of things to say. She talked about her love for writing, about her life back at college, and the not-so-secret crush she had on a certain fisherman at the facility. And Arthur—he listened. Really listened. He hung onto every word, his curiosity evident in the way he tilted his head, the way he asked his own questions. It was clear that as much as we were fascinated by him, he was just as eager to understand us.

And for the first time in his life, he was free to learn without the shadow of pain and fear looming over him.

It was the end of the week. The summer sun was sinking low in the sky, bathing the outdoor section of Arthur’s tank in molten gold. The facility had closed to the public not too long ago, and the girls would need to head home soon. The warm eastern wind carried the briny scent of the ocean, filling my lungs with something grounding, something familiar.

I, for one, did not plan on leaving with them.

There was a part of me that longed to dive into the unknown. To explore someone who, in ways I couldn’t yet explain, felt just a little bit like me. Every day, the pull had grown stronger, the ache sharper. I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or something more—but tonight, I could no longer ignore it.

Mary-Beth was carefully braiding a section of Arthur’s sandy blond hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she wove small strands together. Arthur sat comfortably with his elbows resting on the platform, arms crossed as his long tail floated lazily in the water, the gentle sway of it almost hypnotic. Tilly, stretching her legs with a sigh, checked the time before nudging Mary-Beth.

“We better get moving. My mom doesn’t like when I’m late for dinner.”

Mary-Beth groaned dramatically, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, Tilly. It’s Friday! We’re young adults—we should be spending our weekends staying out late, having fun! Can’t we stay with Arthur a little longer?”

“Ouch, guess I’m just chopped liver,” I muttered with a laugh, shaking my head. Though, in truth, I didn’t really mind that they preferred Arthur’s company. Because it meant I got to spend time with him too.

Arthur chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest as he gave them a reassuring smile. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” he said, amusement dancing in his glowing blue eyes. “We can pick up where we left off when you girls come back. Go home, get some rest—study up on those science books so you can teach this old fool some new tricks.” He added a playful wink, making Mary-Beth giggle as she gathered her things.

I stood as they did, walking them to the door, dragging my feet ever so slightly. The anticipation in my chest was a restless thing.

And then, finally—the door shut behind them with a heavy thud. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing softer until they disappeared completely.

And just like that, it was just us.

Arthur and I.

This was what I had been waiting for all week—just a moment alone with him, without the others, without distraction. But now that it was here, now that the opportunity had fallen right into my lap, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself.

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him questions, to know him in ways no one else had. But I had already spent every day listening to his stories, absorbing the pieces of himself he was willing to share with the others. And yet, there were still so many things I desired to know. More personal, more intimate details about his life that I had no business prying into.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely registered the way Arthur tilted his head at me, eyes searching mine.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The smooth timbre of his voice pulled me back to the present, washing over me like the tide pulling in.

I blinked, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” I hesitated for half a second before adding, “Mind if I hang out for a bit?”

His eyes lit up, and it wasn’t just the setting sun catching in the water.

“Sure,” he said, shifting slightly as he regarded me. “This ain’t gonna get you in trouble, though, right?”

He had a point. There was no reason for me to stay after hours. But surely, I wasn’t breaking any rules. Not really.

I smirked. “Only if I get caught.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, the sound warm and familiar, as if we had known each other for years instead of days. I realized just how much I needed to know him. Not as some scientific marvel, not as a myth brought to life.

But as Arthur.

As I moved toward the edge of the ledge, letting my legs dangle in the water, Arthur followed without hesitation. It was as if we were tethered by some invisible thread, an unspoken pull drawing us together. He stopped just before reaching me, lingering in that space between caution and longing, his hesitation palpable. I could see the gears turning in his mind—how close is too close?

I reached out, offering my hand in a silent invitation. And when he took it, I felt the warmth of his palm against mine despite the coolness of the water. He pressed himself against my legs, his chest firm and solid, his heartbeat strong beneath my skin. Wet arms came to rest on my thighs, soaking through my shorts, but I barely noticed. The moment was too charged, too fragile, as his gills fluttered against my legs, I parted them slightly as if breathing him into my embrace.

He was so close now. Close enough that I could study every detail of his face—the faint scar hidden beneath his short beard, the dimple at the base of his nose, the way his lashes curled like delicate brushstrokes. Freckles dusted his cheeks and shoulders like constellations etched into his skin, mapping stories I would never fully know. His second eyelids, faint but visible, reflected the soft light filtering through the water, a feature evolved to protect his irises, and yet, he still looked at me with such openness. His lips were smooth, and when he parted them, I caught the glint of sharp teeth, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze.

Content had settled over his handsome rugged features.

“Arthur.” His name slipped from my lips, quiet but sincere. And before I could stop myself, the question that had been lodged in my heart finally surfaced. “Are you happy here?”

I felt him tense, his body stilling against mine. He took a slow, measured breath, but there was no avoidance in his gaze, no flicker of hesitation. Only the truth.

“Happy is... a foreign word to me,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of uncertainty. “I like it here, but it’s not exactly what I’d call… home.”

The word sounded strange coming from him, like he was tasting it for the first time, unsure of its meaning. My chest ached.

“It’s a bit lonely when you’re all workin’,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Quiet. But it’s a nice feelin’, like I can just be.” He shrugged, as if that small solace was enough, as if it didn’t matter.

A sigh escaped my throat before I could swallow it. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I wish there—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetheart. You’ve given me more freedom than I’ve ever tasted in my whole miserable life.”

I smiled at that, but it was a poor attempt to mask the tightness in my chest. I wanted to do more for him. I wanted to erase every wound, every scar of his past. Show him true happiness, not just some artificial slice of freedom.

“Besides,” a slow, knowing grin tugged at his lips, revealing more of those sharp teeth. “If you had never brought me here, I never would’ve met you.”

His hand—webbed, calloused, yet impossibly gentle—lifted to my face, his fingertips tracing the curve of my cheek with aching reverence. Like he was afraid I might dissolve beneath his touch, fade into the air like seafoam.

“And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

The words settled between us, sinking into my bones, heavy and undeniable. I should have said something back. Should have acknowledged what was happening between us.

But I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself away.

Arthur held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, a storm of emotions swirling between us like the eye of a cyclone—hot and cold currents colliding, the pressure building, pulling us into a dance neither of us dared to break free from. It was unspoken, this tether between us, but I felt it with every pounding heartbeat, with every inch that closed between our bodies.

“Would you swim with me, my girl?”

My breath caught. The words barely registered, not because I hadn’t heard them, but because of the way he said them.

My girl.

It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like it was already a truth neither of us had acknowledged yet. My stomach twisted, and a rush of warmth bloomed across my cheeks under the golden light of the setting sun. Arthur watched me, eyes shimmering with mischief, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that sent a shiver down my spine.

“S-swim?” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rich, like I had just recoiled from something ridiculous—like he had asked me to eat a raw sea urchin instead of simply taking a swim. “Yeah. If you can ignore the sharks and stingrays, it’s practically paradise,” he teased, tugging at my hands as if I might just leap in fully clothed without a second thought.

The meaning of his request finally sank in. My pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t what I had planned when I stayed behind with him, wasn’t how I thought I’d fill my time. I had imagined more talking, maybe more of those easy laughs he shared with the girls. But this—this was something different. Something thrilling.

I’d be in the water with him. In his natural element.

A voice in the back of my head stirred, whispering a reminder of what Lenny had said about siren courtship. His bioluminescence, the purring, the gift-giving—he’s in mating season.

I shot those thoughts straight to hell.

This wasn’t about that. This was just swimming. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. What harm could be done?

Right? Right.

A grin broke across my face, excitement bubbling in my chest as I practically sprang to my feet.

“I’ll go change into my wetsuit.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

I bounded down the corridor, my heartbeat matching the quick, eager rhythm of my steps. Excitement thrummed in my veins, bubbling up inside me until it felt like I might burst. This is happening. I could barely contain myself, giddy at the thought of what was to come. To see Arthur as he was meant to be—in the water, in his element. To watch the way the water broke for him, how effortlessly he moved, commanding the space with just the flick of his powerful tail. The thought sent shivers down my spine, a thrill unlike anything I had ever known.

I was so lost in the fantasy that I didn’t notice the electrical closet door swinging open until I nearly barreled straight into a solid chest.

“Woah!”

Hands gripped my shoulders to steady me, and I blinked up to find John staring down at me, brows raised in surprise. “Hey, uhm—didn’t realize you were still here…you going for a swim or something?” His gaze flickered down to my wetsuit, to the towel in my hands, then toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. His expression shifted, concern knitting his features. “Shit, is Arthur alright? Did something happen?”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. Just like John to assume the worst. He always played it cool, pretended not to give a shit, but deep down, I knew better. The fool had a heart bigger than his ego—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Arthur’s fine,” I assured him quickly. “I’m just… going for a little swim. That’s all.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could grill me on why exactly I was voluntarily diving into the water with a half-siren, I cut in.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? You hate working late on Fridays.”

He sighed, exhaustion lacing his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hosea asked me to check on the generators. Since we got that big storm coming this weekend.”

Right. The hurricane. I had been so wrapped up in Arthur, in my own tangled emotions, that I had almost forgotten.

“Oh, right. Hurricane Eliza.” I rocked back on my heels, clutching the towel to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “I heard she’s gonna be a real beast.” I tried not to sound uninterested, but all I really wanted to do was turn back to Arthur.

John hummed in agreement, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, as if he could see straight through my flimsy attempt at nonchalance.

A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, uh—I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

He turned, heading back down the hallway, but not before shooting me that look. The one that said he wasn’t buying it.

“John! Uh…” I swallowed hard, nerves creeping back up my spine. Why did I feel like I was a child getting away with something? “Please keep this between us. I-I’m just—” I fumbled for the right words. Just what? Just going for a swim? Then why did it feel like I had been caught sneaking off to do something much more nefarious?

John smirked, dragging a finger across his lips like he was sealing them shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Have fun with your shark boyfriend.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “He’s not—”

John was already strolling away, ignoring my rebuttal. “If he tries anything, I’ll gut his ass personally,” he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing down the corridor.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Think I’ll take my chances, Marston. Seeing as you still can’t swim!”

Without turning around, he raised a middle finger in the air.

Grinning to myself, I clutched my towel a little tighter and turned toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. My heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. This was finally happening.

The moment I stepped onto the platform, my heart clenched with a brief flicker of doubt. Would he still be as eager now that I was actually here? But before that worry could take root, the surface of the water broke, and Arthur emerged with effortless grace, resting his arms on the ledge like he had been waiting for me all night.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice a low rumble beneath the gentle crashing of the waves beyond the facility. “Was startin’ to worry you changed your mind.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I tossed my towel onto a plastic chair. “Like I’d pass up this opportunity,” I mused, reaching for my flippers. “Spoke too soon about getting caught. Ran into John in the hallway.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment, but his attention was already elsewhere. I followed his gaze down to my feet, watching the way his expression softened with curiosity. Slowly, he reached out, his webbed fingers glistening under the golden light as they ghosted over my ankle.

I stilled as he lifted my foot slightly, his thumb brushing over the sharp ridge of ankle bone before gliding downward in a slow, deliberate motion. When the back of his claw traced up the arch of my foot, I couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped me, my toes curling instinctively.

Arthur's eyes flicked up at the sound, his lips twitching with amusement before he focused back on my foot, turning it this way and that as if studying an artifact he couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Why do you wear these?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to the flipper I had yet to put on. He tapped the stiff rubber with his claw, brows furrowing.

I chuckled, slipping the other one on. “They’re flippers. I can’t swim like you do. My feet aren’t smooth or streamlined, and I don’t have the muscles like you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly as he mouthed the word to himself. “Flippers,” he repeated, testing the sound on his tongue before looking back at me. “So these make you more like me?”

His question sent a strange warmth through my chest. There was something so earnest in the way he asked, his fingers trailing along the length of the fin as if he were trying to understand what it meant for me to move through his world.

“Essentially, yes,” I murmured, a small smile playing at my lips. “They’ll help me keep up with you.”

Arthur let out an exaggerated snort, giving me a pointed look. “Darlin’, that’s a bold statement.”

Grinning, I kicked my foot out of the water, sending a spray into the air. He flinched slightly, watching the droplets rain down before glaring at the stiff black rubber with playful disdain.

“That’s just insulting.”

I laughed, adjusting the strap on my other flipper before sliding a pair of goggles over my forehead. Arthur cocked a brow, tilting his head as he eyed them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask,” he huffed, but then his tone shifted, growing more serious. “How long can you hold your breath?”

The change in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. The playful banter faded, replaced by something quieter—something deeper.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the edge of the platform. How long could I hold my breath? I was about to dive into his world, a place where he was strong, fast, in control. The thought sent my pulse skittering, but I forced a steady breath, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Less than a minute,” I admitted, though I knew it was probably closer to thirty seconds.

Arthur took in the information with a slow nod, his ocean-blue gaze flickering downward to the depths of the tank. The water reflected against his skin in shifting ribbons of light, making him look even more otherworldly. “Just stay close to me, alright?”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Pulling my goggles over my eyes and nose, I inhaled deeply, letting my lungs expand before slipping off the ledge. The cool water embraced me instantly, a rush of sensation flooding my senses as the world above blurred into nothingness.

And then, through the clearing bubbles, there he was.

Arthur moved—no, glided—with an effortless grace that no human could ever hope to match. The full arc of his powerful tail cut through the water like a blade, propelling him forward with a strength that sent ripples cascading outward. The bioluminescent blues and purples that traced his scales shimmered like stardust, catching the fractured light that filtered down from above. His tail fin, a broad, elegant half-moon, unfurled behind him with each movement, undulating like the slow, hypnotic pulse of a jellyfish. The way it rippled through the currents, fluid and weightless, was mesmerizing—a dance like the ocean itself was draped in silk.

For the first time, I was seeing him as he was meant to be. Free. Powerful. Impossible. A gateway into a world unknown. He belonged to nobody, and no man.

His sandy blond hair drifted around his face in feathery strands, framing the rugged lines of his features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His gills flexed slightly, expelling a faint trail of bubbles as he moved, blending into the swirling currents. And then there was his smile—devastating, knowing, teasing. It was the kind of smile that made the world tilt, that made my stomach tighten with something warm.

He belonged here, in the water, in the vastness. And yet, as his ocean-blue eyes met mine, glowing faintly beneath the surface, I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, in this moment—he belonged with me, too.

Arthur reached for me, and without hesitation, I took his hand.

Webbed fingers curled around mine, warm even in the cold water, and with the smallest tug, he guided me deeper. The tank transformed before my eyes—the artificial world of rock formations and coral structures now seemed vast and infinite from this new perspective. Schools of fish darted past us in flashes of silver, weaving effortlessly through the currents.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Arthur twisted effortlessly, rolling onto his back so he could watch me, his tail propelling him smoothly as I floated just above him. Watching me with that same toothy, teasing grin.

I kicked my feet, feeling the resistance of the water as my flippers sliced through it, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power he held in every movement. His tail moved in slow, deliberate strokes, adjusting his speed with fluent precision, allowing me to drift above.

I suddenly wished I had a tail like his—to feel the strength coiling in my muscles, to move through the water with that same primal ease. To command the currents as if they were an extension of myself. But I was clumsy in comparison, merely paddling while he swam with the mastery of something born from the deep. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused, watching me with a quiet adoration, like I was the marvel here—not him.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly weightless. Suspended in the water, drifting between reality and something almost dreamlike, I had never felt so free. Despite the vastness around us, Arthur was the only thing keeping me tethered.

Then my chest tightened. A sharp, familiar burn spread through my lungs. Shit. Has it been a minute already?

With my free hand, I pointed to the surface, signaling to Arthur that I needed air. But instead of guiding me upward, he pulled us deeper. My stomach dropped. A chill slithered down my spine as his grip on my hand remained firm. What is he doing?

I tugged, trying to free myself, but his hold only tightened. Panic began to set in, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. No… No, no, no! My limbs burned, my body screaming for oxygen. The water suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. It was crushing me, swallowing me whole.

He shook his head.

A bolt of horror shot through me. No? What the fuck do you mean, NO?!

Was this some kind of sick game? Had I been a fool to trust him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one darker than the last. What if I had just made a terrible mistake? What if everything we shared had been a lie? What if Arthur wasn’t what I thought he was?

Was he going to kill me? Am I going to drown?

Just as the last ounce of my strength gave way, just as I thought I was about to give in to the burning need to draw breath and fill my lungs with water, Arthur pulled me against his chest. I expected him to kick his tail sending us upward, to break the surface in a powerful burst. He had asked how long I could hold my breath, surely that wasn't to plan my demise in a timely fashion.

But instead, he did something I never could have anticipated.

His hands came up to cradle my face, his touch gentle even as I writhed against him. His bioluminescent veins pulsed with soft light, a delicate glow between us. His eyes, deep and steady, locked onto mine, silently urging me to trust him. But my mind was blind with panic, lungs burning as they gave out.

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.

A kiss? Now? My mind screamed at me to pull away, to fight, to swim for the surface before it was too late. I felt it crawling under my skin, a desperate need for air or I was going to die!

I gasped but instead of choking, instead of water rushing into my lungs—

I breathed.

A rush of oxygen filled my chest, sharp and startling, like drawing the first breath of life. Arthur's lips parted against mine, his tongue slipping past in a way that was less about hunger and more about necessity. He was giving me his breath, sharing something vital and instinctual, something so intimate it sent a shiver down my spine and ignited each of my nerves in white hot fire.

I inhaled, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him, taking in the air he offered me in desperate, greedy gulps. My lungs burned, but not from lack of oxygen—it was the lingering ache of panic, the rawness of fear ebbing away, replaced by something deeper. Something calming.

Relief. Arthur never meant to let me drown. He was never going to harm me. I silently cursed myself for not trusting him. But this was something I never would have expected.

The rhythm came naturally after a few moments. A slow, controlled exchange. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Arthur matched me, his chest expanding against mine, his gills flaring as he cycled the air between us. Drawing in enough breath for both our lungs. Somewhere in my frantic attempt to survive, my goggles had been pulled off, floating aimlessly somewhere behind me.

Now, nothing separated us. No barrier, no confusion. Just the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his body as he held me in place. His breath kissing every pore.

My arms wound around his neck instinctively, fingers tangling in his billowing hair. I could feel the powerful ripple of his muscles as he kept us suspended in the water, his tail moving in slow, effortless sweeps. His veins pulsed softly beneath his skin, casting an ethereal glow between us. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic even.

I consumed him like a fire that devours, drawing him in deeper. Seizing his lifeforce. Claiming it as my own. Taking.

The air he breathed into me was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was liberating, pure—like petrichor. When the earth is warm with rain-soaked soil after a summer storm. Rich and electric and unmistakably him. It filled every aching part of me, chased away the fear, replaced it with something that left me dizzy.

This wasn’t just survival. This was something else entirely.

Arthur wasn’t just giving me air—he was threading himself into the very fabric of my being.

With every inhale, he poured into me like the tide rushing into a hollowed-out cave, filling the spaces I didn’t even realize were empty. A piece of him—vast, ancient, and arcane—flooded through my heart, echoing through its chambers, coursing through my veins in a heady, intoxicating rush. It curled into the hollows of my lungs, wove through the sinew of my muscles, and settled deep into my skin. Clinging to me like the saltwater after it dries.

It wasn’t just breath. It was him.

He invaded me, not with force, but with something far more meaningful—an offering, a communion. A sacrifice. Reaching inside me his presence wrapped around my very cells, touching every inch of me in ways I had never imagined. It was like swallowing starlight, like sinking into the depths of the ocean and becoming part of it, losing myself to something endless and infinite.

I felt the ocean’s pulse, a steady rhythm thrumming through me. It was life, boundless and eternal. And gods above, it was mighty.

With each exhale, he didn’t pull away—he gave as much as I would take. As much as I needed to calm my thundering pulse. Traces of him held me, saturating my body with something more than air. He left himself in the marrow of my bones, in the pulse of my wrists, in the spaces between each heartbeat.

I was no longer just breathing. I was becoming.

Somewhere in the tangled mess of our situation, I hadn’t noticed Arthur bringing me back to the surface. When we finally broke through, the rush of cool ocean air kissed my cheeks, sending a shudder through me. I felt like I had just stolen something forbidden, something ancient—like I had partaken in a divine secret that was never meant for human hands. As if I had slipped past the gods unnoticed, grasping at eternity, daring to hold onto something beyond biology, beyond comprehension.

And still, despite the overwhelming weight of what had just happened between us, my instincts took over. I gasped for breath, gulping down fresh air, grounding myself in reality—even as I mourned the loss of that impossible intimacy. I pushed myself back onto the platform, slumping onto my back with a heavy huff, my limbs trembling from the lingering adrenaline. I barely registered Arthur rising beside me, his own chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.

Poor thing. I really did steal the breath from his lungs. Literally.

The thought sent a dizzy rush through me. Had I gotten too carried away? Had I taken too much? I wasn’t even sure what too much meant in this situation. My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, to unravel the impossibility of what we had just shared.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled, still trying to steady my racing heart. “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you could do that? I thought you were trying to drown me!”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my gaze locking onto his face as he hovered in the water between my legs. He looked just as disoriented as I felt, the glow in his veins pulsing slow and steady, like the aftershocks of something neither of us could fully comprehend. He blinked up at me, his gills fluttering slightly as if he was still catching his breath, too.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more careful. “I asked how long you could hold your breath… I—I thought you knew what I was doin’. I never meant to scare ya, sweetheart.”

His eyes held nothing but sincerity, and yet I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my emotions still tangled up in the lingering panic.

Arthur flinched—not physically, but I saw the way something in him pulled back, just slightly. The guilt in his expression sent a pang of regret through my chest. He truly hadn’t meant to frighten me.

“I thought humans did it all the time,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ve seen ‘em press their mouths together, sharin’ breath. Never really understood why, though… Since you’ve got plenty of it up here.” He waved a webbed hand through the air as if the concept itself was baffling to him.

This caught my attention. I stared at him, dumbfounded, my heart giving an odd little stutter. Oh, Arthur. I sat up fully now, moving closer to the edge as his words sank in. He’d seen humans do it before? It took a moment for it to click, for realization to dawn over me like the slow crest of a wave. Oh. He’d seen humans kiss.

“Oh, honey, that’s not—” I hesitated, rubbing my temples with a sigh. How the hell do I even explain this to him? “It’s not the same when humans do it,” I tried again, my voice softer now. “We’re not actually sharing breath. Not like that… not like what we just did.”

Arthur tilted his head, his brows knitting together in confusion. He was trying to understand, I could see that much, but I was probably upending his entire perception of human behavior in real-time.

“Then… why do you do it?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to piece it together in a way that made sense. “It’s called kissing. It’s a way humans express affection. Like a silent conversation… a way to say things without words—like ‘I care about you,’ or ‘I want to be close to you.’” My fingers curled against the damp fabric of my wetsuit. “When two people press their mouths together, they’re sharing a connection, and sometimes…” My voice faltered, realization creeping up on me as the words formed on my tongue. Gods above. It hit me that we had just done practically the same thing. “...sometimes even a little piece of their soul.”

Arthur was completely still. His eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto mine like the pull of the tide, widening ever so slightly as his pupils expanded. A shiver ran through me, the weight of his gaze so intense it felt like he could see straight into my core.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he moved closer.

The water rippled gently around his body, his movements slow, deliberate. He mirrored the way we had sat together earlier, but this time, he braced his hands on either side of me, his arms caging me in a way that sent a deep warmth curling in my stomach. The space between us was nonexistent, the air suddenly thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Kissing…” Arthur repeated the word, barely more than a murmur, tasting it on his tongue.

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was processing everything I’d just said. And I knew, with startling certainty, that he was thinking the same thing I was.

What we shared underwater… was far deeper, far more intimate than any human kiss could ever be.

“Yes, kissing.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. Fuck, why did I feel so nervous? He was so close I could taste the salt on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin despite the cool water between us. Those deep, knowing eyes never left mine, watching me like he could read every thought flickering through my mind.

“Th-there’s many different ways to kiss,” I went on, my voice betraying my nerves. Why the hell am I even telling him this? “It’s not always on the lips. You can kiss pretty much anywhere on the body.”

His pupils dilated slightly, the dark pools nearly eclipsing the striking blue of his irises. “Anywhere?” His voice had dropped an octave, rougher, like sea water pulling back before a crashing wave.

I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck. “And it’s not always between partners. Parents kiss their children, relatives kiss their loved ones, some people kiss their pets.” My fingers fidgeted, he was so close now I could feel the smoothness of his chest as he drew breath. “You can even blow a kiss.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from something unreadable to pure confusion. “Why would someone do that?”

A soft giggle bubbled up my throat, his curiosity catching me off guard in the best way. “People do it when they’re beyond each other's reach. A way of sending your affection through the air.”

Feeling emboldened, I reached for his hand—broad, webbed, strong but gentle beneath my touch. His skin was cool and smooth, glistening in the fading light. Slowly, I lifted his arm and guided the back of his hand toward my lips.

“When you blow someone a kiss, you have to bring it to life before letting it go,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, without breaking eye contact, I pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the wet space of his palm, exaggerating the smacking sound just enough to tease him.

Arthur went completely still.

I felt the tension coil in his muscles, the way his fingers twitched slightly against my own. When I pulled away, my eyes flickered to his face—and oh. His cheeks were tinted a deeper shade of pink, a faint but undeniable flush creeping along his cheekbones. Was he… blushing?

I bit my lip, suppressing a grin as warmth curled in my chest. I had just made him blush.

Arthur blinked, looking between his hand and my face like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, like he was trying to feel something beyond the physical sensation lingering on his skin.

“There,” I said proudly, admiring my work as if I had just painted something delicate and unseen across his palm. “Now, you blow it away.”

I gently turned his hand toward the ocean, the sky now fading to a deepening indigo as the sun traded shifts with the moon. The first stars flickered to life above us, their distant glow reflecting in the water, shimmering against Arthur’s iridescent skin. Then, slowly, I blew on his palm, a soft breath carrying the invisible gift away.

Arthur inhaled sharply. His gills flared at the gesture, pulsing with some unspoken emotion.

I released his hand, but instead of pulling away, he brought it to my face. A breath hitched in my throat as the rough pad of his thumb traced over my bottom lip, dragging slowly, reverently. The touch was featherlight, but I felt it everywhere.

His fingers trembled slightly. His eyes burned with something deeper than curiosity now—an insatiable hunger, a deep, aching longing.

I heard him swallow before he spoke, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the roaring waves, rich and weighted, like he was holding himself back. “…and where does the kiss go?”

The words rolled over me, sweeping me into the depth of his need. Arthur’s gaze searched mine, pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled with restrained tension. We were already so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath, hear the tremble in his voice.

“To someone you love.”

It mattered little to me which one of us closed the distance—only that we did. The moment our lips met, the world fell away, as if time itself had paused to bear witness. The moon, ever watchful, seemed to still the tides, holding her breath in quiet admiration, offering her silent blessing.

Arthur kissed me with an aching slowness, as if savoring something precious, something fragile. His lips were warm, firm but yielding, and impossibly gentle. Nothing like before—when he was breathing life into me. No, this was different. This was the slow unraveling of restraint, the surrender to something we had long denied. The intertwining of unspoken desire, of aching need.

The ship was sinking. And I finally raised the white flag.

A shiver ran through me as I brushed my tongue against the fullness of his bottom lip, teasing, testing. He groaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling low in my belly—and parted his lips for me.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine was devastating, deliberate, and utterly alien. Silken and warm, but textured—each ridge on the top of it dragged against my own, sending sharp, electric pulses straight down my spine. It was longer than I expected, sinuous and impossibly agile, exploring me with a slow, unrelenting hunger. I gasped into his mouth as he curled it against the roof of mine, the friction sending a deep, aching thrill through my body.

He tasted of salt, like the sea breeze just before a storm, rich and heady with something darker beneath—the faint scent of musk, the wild pull of him. My fingers reached up around his neck, one hand cradling his jaw. Desperate to keep myself tethered as I drowned in the sensation of him, the way he felt—all sharp edges and smooth restraint, barely contained.

Arthur kissed like he knew what his touch did to me, like he had been waiting to unravel me, to steal the breath from my lungs and make it his own.

And I let him. I let him take me.

The soft bristle of his beard scraped against my skin, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His fingers skimmed my waist, pressing just enough to anchor me, as if afraid I might slip away.

All I could taste was him. All I could breathe was him. Arthur, steady and unshakable, yet trembling with want. The only thing that mattered in this moment was us.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to see the glow of his bioluminescence. Its colorful shimmer lit up the space between us, painting the darkness behind my eyelids in swirls of deep indigo, flickering like a living halo.

The heat of his body pressed against mine, damp and feverish, as he surged forward, rising from the water.

The platform was firm beneath me as he eased me down, his weight settling just enough to trap me beneath him. Then, suddenly, I felt it—before I even heard it. A low, resonant purr, vibrating deep in his chest and pouring into mine, rattling through my ribs like the hum of something ancient, something meant to lure and ensnare.

And like the vibration of his purr I could feel the need exuding off him in waves.

His lips crashed against mine, no longer gentle but desperate, fevered. His tongue, ribbed and serpentine, curled around mine, stroking, caressing, dragging across every sensitive nerve like he wanted to learn me by touch alone. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of need straight to my core. I moaned into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing closer, devouring me with each frantic kiss.

His bioluminescence pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting a rhythm of shifting blues and purples against my skin. His fingers, slick with seawater, traced up my sides, leaving a cool trail that burned in contrast to the heat pooling between us. I wrapped my legs around him as strong hands curled against my waist, squeezing the tender soft flesh.

Powerful hips rutted against mine, the hard press of something unmistakable beneath his scales sent a shudder through me. Mixed with the slick proof of his arousal, the sensation was maddening. And I had no doubt he could smell my own—if not taste it.

The kiss turned messy, wet, tongues tangling in a frantic battle for dominance neither of us cared to win. My nails scraped against his shoulders, feeling the shifting muscles beneath his damp skin, and his purr deepened—a growl mixed with something more animalistic. He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me whimper, then soothed the sting with another slow, dragging stroke of his tongue.

I was drowning in him, in the salt, the heat, the way he tasted like the storm rolling in over the horizon. His hunger was intoxicating, and I met it with my own, chasing every kiss, every desperate movement.

Breath became an afterthought and the only thing that mattered to me was more.

We lay together like this for what felt like eternity, our breaths mingling in the humid air, bodies still pressed close, reluctant to part. My fingers traced lazy circles over the damp skin of his back, memorizing the ridges and dips of muscle beneath the glow that pulsed gently through his veins. Every flicker of light felt like a whisper, a secret between us.

And then he pulled away. I whimpered softly at the loss, my body instinctively arching toward him, unwilling to break the connection. A shimmering string of saliva still tethered us before he reached up, swiping his thumb over my swollen lips, his touch almost possessive.

His sapphire eyes—drowning in pools of endless black—studied me like I was something holy, something to be worshiped. His pupils had expanded so wide they reflected the moonlight itself, making him look less like a man and more like something wild that had crawled out of the deep to claim me.

He leaned in, breath warm against my ear, voice a low, husky murmur. "Did I do good?"

The words alone were enough to make me tremble, but then he nipped at the shell of my ear, his sharp teeth scraping before soothing the sting with the soft press of his lips.

I could hardly form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. His mouth was relentless, lips dragging over my throat, finding sensitive spots with an infuriating precision, nipping and sucking until I was gasping, grasping at his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My wetsuit suddenly felt suffocating, unbearable. If he didn’t stop, I would shed it and take him right here, consequences be damned. It hardly mattered if our bodies could even fit—all that mattered was the heat, the need, the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

"Good—" I managed, the word rasping from deep in my throat, thick with want. "Doesn’t even begin to describe it. There are no words, Arthur. That was—"

He whispered something against my skin. A soft murmur, thick with devotion.

It made me pause. Whatever he said wasn’t English, and it certainly wasn’t human. The sound was rough, like the shifting of stones against the ocean floor, but it carried a melodic cadence, a fluidity that sent a shiver rolling through me.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my pulse hammering as I searched his face. "What do those words mean?"

Arthur slowly eased himself off me, sliding back into the water with a grace that reminded me he was not just a man. He belonged to the sea, to something vast and untamed, yet here he was, staring at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

I followed him to the edge, pausing as my fingers hovered above the water.

He said the words again, softer this time.

"It has a few meanings," Arthur admitted, his gaze sweeping over my face, studying me with the quiet intensity of a painter capturing his muse. His throat tightened around the words, as if it hurt to speak. "My Ma used to say it to me when I was a kid, before I was taken."

I swallowed thickly as he held my gaze, and then he spoke the translation, each word sinking into my chest like a vow, like a promise meant only for me.

"My hearts will follow you to the end. Into every horizon."

Giving me little time to react, Arthur wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me back into the dark waters. The shock of it stole my breath, the sudden cool embrace of the salt water wrapping around me like silk. The only light was his pulsing glow, shifting hues of deep indigo and soft cerulean, casting shimmering patterns against my skin. Above us, the stars blinked in quiet witness, scattered across the sky like tiny echoes of his bioluminescence that flickered beneath the waves.

I looked down, my breath hitching. The water was so dark now I could barely see the tips of my toes. An endless unknown stretched beneath me, and for the first time, I felt the tendrils of fear creeping in. My pulse pounded against my ribs, instinct screaming at me to retreat, to find solid ground.

But then I remembered his words. What they meant. What they implied. There was no turning back. I was being carried on the wind, letting the current take me where I needed to go. All I had to do was trust him.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the way his body moved against mine—fluid, effortless. It was like he could sense my hesitation, my uncertainty, because before I could voice it, he pulled me closer.

"Arthur…"

His warmth was a stark contrast to the cool water, his broad chest expanding with each measured breath. I could feel the steady exhale from his gills as they brushed against my thighs, sending a strange, almost soothing sensation through me. He held me tight, one strong arm wrapped securely around my waist, keeping me anchored to him, to this moment.

"There’s something I want to show you," he murmured, his voice low and steady, the promise of something unknown lingering in his tone.

"But… I—I can’t—" My throat tightened, the weight of the ocean pressing around us, reminding me of my limits. I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t breathe down there.

Arthur didn’t even let me finish the thought.

"Hush, darlin’," he soothed, his lips grazing the shell of my ear before pressing against my temple. His voice was a whispered vow, a quiet command laced with reassurance. "Let me be your breath."

Before I could protest, he sealed his lips over mine, the kiss deep and consuming, and I felt it—his breath flowing into me, warm and intoxicating. A strange sensation, like the ocean itself had bent to his will, filling my lungs with something alive.

And just like that, the fear ebbed away.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

It took a few tries to get used to Arthur breathing into my lungs. At first, it felt unnatural, like my body was rejecting the very thing keeping me alive. My nervous heart devoured each breath like a greedy little sea snake, twisting around my chest, tightening, constricting. But Arthur was patient. He never seemed to mind.

I tried to hold it longer, to prove I could endure, but it was as if he could sense my discomfort before I even knew it myself. He never let it reach the point where panic crept in, never let my lungs burn from the inside out. The moment he sensed my struggle, his strong fingers would find my chin, tilting my face toward his. And then, with a quiet kind of reverence, he would seal his lips over mine and breathe life into me.

And, like before, he was never the first to pull away. Arthur let me take as much air as I needed, as many breaths as it took to steady the wild thunder of my pulse. There was no impatience, no frustration—only trust. A trust unlike anything I had ever known.

I was completely and utterly at his mercy.

The water was darker than I had ever seen it. A thick, endless abyss stretching in every direction, swallowing everything beyond the faint glow of the facility’s underwater lights. They cast eerie, shifting beams, just enough for monitoring water levels, but not enough to truly see what lurked in the depths.

And there was so much lurking.

Every creature we passed seemed to materialize from the void, slipping through the water like ghosts from a world I was only beginning to understand. I knew these animals, had studied them, cared for them. But here, under the shroud of darkness, they felt different. Unfamiliar. As if I were a trespasser in their domain.

A particularly curious stingray drifted above us, its broad body gliding effortlessly through the water. I looked up—and nearly choked on my own scream.

The pale, ghoulish underside of its body loomed above me, its strange, human-like mouth and vacant eyes staring down with an uncanny, haunting expression. My body acted before my mind could catch up—I jerked violently, nearly kicking Arthur square in the chest, my limbs flailing in pure, unfiltered panic.

Once again, he calmed me with his breath. His warmth spread through me, steadying the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I felt it—the quiet shake of his chest, the vibration of something light, and effortless. Laughter. It bubbled up his throat, muted by the water, but I felt it, a tingling hum against my lips before we pulled away.

His fingers found my wrist, strong yet careful, guiding my hand upward. With a slow, deliberate touch, he traced his thumb along my palm, unfurling my fingers one by one.

The stingray hovered just above us, its massive wings rippling like silk through the water. And then, with a slow, ghostly glide, it brushed its velvety skin over the tips of my fingers. Like a whisper, like a greeting.

I had touched stingrays before, plenty of times in the shallow touch-tank, where children giggled and splashed, reaching out to feel the slippery softness of their skin. But never like this. Never in their world, where the touch was theirs to give. It wasn’t me reaching out—it was them, exploring me.

He lifted his hand in front of me, and what he did next sent warmth blooming deep in my belly. With deliberate care, he hooked our index fingers together—a silent sign, one I recognized instantly. Friend.

My chest tightened at the realization. Not only had Arthur remembered that fleeting moment we shared when he was bleeding out on the beach, but he had learned the gesture. He had taken it as his own, stored it away like something precious, something worth keeping.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, curling my finger a little tighter around his.

I made a quiet promise to teach him more later.

Arthur pulled me forward, guiding me through a submerged tunnel. The familiar structure clicked in my mind, recognition settling in my bones. We were entering the back section of the tank—the place away from prying eyes, from tourists pressing their faces against glass. This was his sanctuary. Where he spent his time when he wasn’t with me or the girls.

Curiosity sparked in my chest. What does he want to show me down here?

We swam deeper, the water thick with shadow, but I trusted his grip, the steady pull of his hands as he led me forward. And then, nestled within the rock and kelp, I saw it.

A small cave. A hidden space tucked away in the depths of the tank. I wasn’t sure how I knew—but I did. This was where he slept.

Something about it felt lived in, personal. The flattened kelp was arranged in a circular shape, almost like a nest. It wasn’t just a hiding place. It was his. I could picture him here, curled up in the quiet dark, unguarded, safe. For the first time since I had met him, I wondered what it felt like for him to rest. Unguarded, unshackled, away from cold prying eyes. To just be.

Arthur pulled me inside, his arm wrapping instinctively around my waist as his bioluminescence flared to life. Light bloomed from his skin, illuminating the space in shifting blues and purples, and what I saw nearly stole the breath from my lungs.

The rock-like walls were etched with various drawings, their rough surfaces covered in markings that varied in detail and size. Some depicted the sea life he shared the tank with—familiar outlines of stingrays, sharks, seals and fish. Others were delicate sketches of underwater plants, their flowing tendrils stretching across the stone like living things.

Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me away from Arthur’s side. I swam closer, reaching out to trace my fingers over the carvings. The grooves were deep, uneven, reminding me of ancient cave drawings. He must have used his claws, carefully etching each image into the stone, leaving behind proof of his existence in this lonely place.

Behind me, Arthur was searching for something, his large hands sifting through layers of kelp. He reached beneath the safety of his makeshift bed, pulling out something dark and solid. But my attention was still on the walls, my heart hammering as I took in every detail of his underwater art.

Then, Arthur waved a hand, pulling me from my trance. I turned to him just as he pointed toward the farthest side of the cave.

And I released my breath.

There, among the sketches of fish and plants—was me.

It was a simple drawing, lacking the fine details of his other works, but it didn’t matter. With the rough material he had to work with, it was still a masterpiece. My heart ached at the sight of it, at the thought of him carving me into the walls of his world.

But it was what he did next that truly unraveled me.

Arthur lifted a webbed palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his skin. Then, with a small smile, he released a stream of bubbles toward the drawing—just like I had taught him. An expression of affection, a gesture so sweet it made my chest tighten.

I could have kissed him right then and there. Well, I tried to.

But this gentle giant, ever concerned for my well-being, misunderstood my intent. The moment our lips met, he must have thought I was seeking air. He held me there for a breath longer, and though I wished I could stay pressed against him forever, he was already wrapping a strong arm around my waist, propelling us forward with effortless strength.

I barely had time to process what had just happened before we were darting out of the cave, leaving the warmth of his sanctuary behind.

Arthur still held something tightly in his other palm, and as he guided me through the darkened waters, I realized we were heading somewhere new.

The temperature dropped, the light fading into near blackness.

The deep sea exhibit.

Once we reached a spot he found satisfactory, we floated in utter stillness. The silence of the deep pressed around us, thick and all-encompassing, making me acutely aware of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. The nerves crept up my spine again, cold and slithering.

It was pitch black.

I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me, couldn’t even make out Arthur’s features except for the faintest shimmer of his dimmed bioluminescence. He was holding back, keeping his glow subdued, and I had no idea why.

Why did he bring me here?

Then, all at once, his light flared to life.

The sudden brilliance stunned me, a galaxy of blues and purples bursting from his skin like a supernova in the dark. But it wasn’t just him, his radiance set off a chain reaction.

And the void around us moved.

At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but then I saw them—hundreds of creatures emerging from the abyss, answering his call.

Arthur was a beacon, and the deep-sea life responded to him like moths to a flame. Lanternfish flickered in and out of sight, their tiny lights winking like stars in the midnight ocean. Jellies pulsed with ghostly luminescence, their delicate tendrils undulating as they drifted past. Squid, cuttlefish, sea angels—so many creatures I couldn’t begin to name—came to life before my eyes, weaving in and out of the glow like spirits caught between worlds.

They surrounded us in a slow, mesmerizing dance, silent sentinels bearing witness to whatever was about to unfold.

And at the center of it all was him.

Arthur’s radiance was breathtaking, his skin an ever-shifting nebula of color and light. But it wasn’t just his appearance that captivated me—it was the way the ocean responded to him, how it bent to his presence, how even the wildest, most elusive creatures drifted close as if he were something sacred.

He was neither fully man nor entirely mythical. He was something else entirely.

Something that felt indescribable. And in that moment, in the hush of the deep, I understood this pull toward him for what it truly was.

Love.

The solid object he had brought with him turned out to be a large oyster shell, its rough surface barely catching the faint, shifting glow of his bioluminescence. Holding it steady in one hand, he traced a pointed claw along its lip, prying it open with slow, practiced ease.

I watched him with quiet reverence as his fingers slipped inside, moving carefully, deliberately, as if retrieving something precious. When he finally pulled his hand free, his fingers curled tightly around whatever lay within—his fist closing around it with such purpose that my breath crawled up my throat.

A pearl. It had to be.

The empty shell drifted downward, spiraling slowly to the bottom of the tank, forgotten. Arthur didn’t watch it sink. His full attention was on me.

His hands found mine, and the moment our fingers met, my pulse thundered. Heat raced through my veins, my entire body suddenly hyper aware of the weight of the moment, of the way the water seemed charged around us. Before I could even find the words to ask what he was doing, his hand rose, his palm pressing gently against the curve of my neck.

Then, he breathed into me. Warmth spread through my lungs, steadying me, grounding me, but this time, it felt different. Because when he pulled away, his lips still so close I could feel the lingering press of his breath—his mouth moved.

Arthur was speaking. The realization sent a shiver rolling through me. And then I heard it.

His voice.

It was nothing like the deep, gravelly tone I knew from above water. Here, in his element, it was something else entirely.

A melody.

A song, resonant and fluid, shifting in pitch like the ebb and flow of the tide. It wasn’t just words—it was music, a chorus of sound that wrapped around me, kissed the deepest parts of me. It filled my chest, soaked into my bones, made my skin hum with the rhythm of it.

It was haunting. And heavenly.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I didn’t even understand the words, but I felt them. Like a current pulling me deeper, like a promise whispered between waves. And in that moment, I knew—he wasn’t just speaking.

He was singing to me.

Arthur opened his palm, revealing the pearl nestled against the warm glow of his skin. Its milky-white surface shimmered beneath the shifting blues and purples, catching the light like a tiny piece of the moon itself.

A gift. For me.

My heart thundered, a deep, resounding pulse that seemed to echo through every fiber of my being. My mind raced, recalling everything I had learned about his kind—about the significance of this. Gift-giving was a siren’s way of accepting courtship, of expressing mutual desire, a bond far deeper than mere affection.

Did sirens mate for life? Could they have more than one? Am I his first?

Why, of all creatures, did Arthur choose me?

The questions crashed over me like waves against the shore, relentless and unyielding. But then I looked at him. And every uncertainty melted away.

His gaze, luminous and breathtaking, held nothing but certainty. The sweetest smile tugged at his lips, his blue eyes alive with glowing radiance. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his expression. Only him—only us.

His lips moved again, shaping the words I now recognized, a melody that sent warmth cascading through me.

My hearts will follow you to the end.

Emotion swelled in my chest, thick and all-consuming. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his, closing the pearl between our palms—sheltering it, protecting it. Safe from the darkness of the tank, from the weight of the unknown, from all the uncertainties that once held me back. It was ours now, cradled between our touch, a silent vow sealed in the space where our hands met.

Arthur had brought light into my life, breath into my lungs, and adventure into my soul.

And as I pressed my lips to his, I knew—I would follow him too.

Into every horizon.

AN: Listen, lets just ignore the fact that aquarium tanks are absolutely NOT built like this. And we’re also gonna pretend that the reader can see underwater bc I forgot to add the goggles. OH WELL. We're getting creative. With the way everything is going, I'm hoping that the reader gets to fuck her fish man (husband) by chapter 9. YOU GO GIRL!

Also enjoy these inspo pics from that last scene. Utterly gorgeous creatures!! (CR to frida.yolotzin on instagram!)

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x you #ao3 #monster x human #monster romance #monster au #siren x reader #siren au #rdr2 modern au #arthur morgan smut

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