#she was always choosing violence against death

[jorque-is-real]

I always got the impression not that Katara sparing Yon Rha was the "right" thing to do, but rather the thing that she chose to do.

Katara is shown time and time again to be an empathetic person at heart, even to her enemies. Even ignoring examples like her working to save the Fire Nation fishing village, as far back as season 1 we have her freezing over Zuko in the North Pole instead of directly killing him when she could (although, it can be argued she might have assumed freezing him would be lethal and inescapable). We later see her attempt to heal Iroh when Azula injures him, despite the fact that Iroh has wholeheartedly helped Zuko hunt the Gaang at this point, as far as she knows. Even in her final fight with Azula, she would be well within her rights to kill her once she freezes the two of them, or even just leave her frozen to die, and arguably would be smarter to do so. Instead, she chooses to restrain and spare her.

It's more likely than not that Katara has killed multiple enemies in combat over the course of the show, but it's consistently shown that when she's in a position of absolute power over them and not in the heat of combat, she chooses to spare them.

Granted, she never had as much personal enmity with someone as she did with Yon Rha, so I don't think it would have been character assassination or anything if she chose to kill him. She would have been justified. But neither do I think it is out of character for her to have spared him. Regardless of whether or not Yon Rha is deserving of a death, it is consistent with her character that, upon seeing a hollow, pathetic man powerless and whimpering on the ground, that she wouldn't feel good about killing him. Not from a "violence isn't the answer!" but just from the angle of it's not something she wants to do. Even later, when she's talking to Aang, she's unsure if her sparing Yon Rha was a sign of strength or weakness. It clearly wasn't a decision of "killing him would be wrong" but "I don't feel good about killing a defenseless, sniveling person in front of me." Which I think is understandable.

Ultimately, Katara's goal this episode isn't about killing Yon Rha, and never was. It was about getting closure for the death of her mother, in whatever form that may take. She thought that would take the form of killing Yon Rha, and if it had been, that would have been reasonable. But ultimately, seeing him for the pathetic, miserable, empty man he is was enough for her.

I know Zuko never explicitly advocated for killing Yon Rha, but in his line of "You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer," it's pretty clear that he at least assumed that violence was what she needed to heal. (On a side note, Aang asserted two things about what Katara needed. The first is that she did not need to kill Yon Rha, in spite of what it is implied Zuko believed- this ended up being correct. The second is that she needed to forgive Yon Rha, which she explicitly states was incorrect).

So it is implied that Zuko thought Katara needed violence, material revenge against Yon Rha. Not that he is manipulating her or anything, as many anti-Zuko agendees like to suggest, but merely that this is what he thought would be needed for her to heal. In contrast, Aang thought that Katara needed to forgive Yon Rha, to let go and move on. In the end, they were both wrong. Katara explicitly does not forgive Yon Rha, and rejects Aang's brand of pacifism. Aang is wrong. But she also finds that, contrary to what even she likely expected, she did not need to kill Yon Rha.

Katara did what she needed to find closure, regardless of what anyone around her expected. And that's what I always thought to be the central point of the episode, and Katara's emotional journey in it. Not a moral judgement or lesson on of "does Yon Rha deserve death," or "would it be wrong of Katara to kill him," but rather it's a depiction of Katara dealing with her grief and anger and gaining closure in whatever way works for her.

Ultimately, the question of whether or not sparing Yon Rha is the right thing to do is irrelevant, and the show doesn't strongly take a side, I feel. I think the show even underscores this with Katara's line at the end, "I don't know if [I didn't kill him] because I'm too weak to do it or because I'm strong enough not to." Whether or not Yon Rha deserved death is irrelevant, because this story wasn't about Yon Rha- it was about Katara. Her deciding to spare him wasn't an ethical judgement saying it was the right thing to do, but rather a personal realization that it wasn't something she personally felt she needed to obtain closure.

Maybe someone else would have, and that would have been fine. But it feels consistent with Katara's character that she wouldn't. And ultimately, this episode is her story.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID. I agree with almost everything that's being said in this chain. ATLA absolutely does have a problem with moral luck, and it has an obnoxious obsession with Aang's supposed moral superiority, and several of its moral lessons range from obnoxious to offensive, especially in regards to its ideas about justice, and doubly especially in how it handles these ideas in relation to genocide and war. But in the particular case of TSR, I think that the episode is best read as an exploration of Katara's personal journey and her dealing with unresolved grief and seeking closure, rather than a moral lesson on revenge or the ethics of killing war criminals.

Of course, you can raise questions like "why did they decide to write Katara's emotional journey this way, and what does it say about the writers/showrunners?" Which is totally fair. But I think that, moral habits and patterns of the show aside, TSR stands alone as a good episode and story with its content, themes, and ideas, whereas something like Rock ex Machina saving and retroactively justifying Aang's passivism in the finale cannot possibly be read in any way other than bad writing.

Yon Rah turning out to be retired is actually a really good example of moral luck because the narrative treats it like Zuko and Katara should have known all along, or that this is the consequence of being "consumed by revenge" or some nonsense. It's why I've never really taken the whole bit where Katara bloodbends the captain and is horrified that it's the wrong guy seriously, and as an extension, why I've never taken the show's portrayal of bloodbending as always evil and unforgivable seriously. It feels like it's there specifically to paint Katara as irrational, as if she should have known somehow that the dude was retired. Also, I've said this before, but it's not like the current captain who was still active and probably had already murdered many mothers and children didn't deserve it.

It's bad writing, and I've said before that the narrative often uses moral luck to make Aang seem right. People got real mad when I said this before but I'm right.

[xomakara]

BROTHERHOOD : An Ateez Series

The Brotherhood is an elite, fearsome mafia syndicate ruled by ruthless hierarchy and dangerous loyalty. At its core are eight key men, each with a distinct role, identity, and story. As power struggles and emotional entanglements collide, we follow the women who cross their paths—some as enemies, others as lovers, and some caught in between.

Main genres: smut, angst, drama, Mafia AU

General Warnings: includes mentions of violence/death (as goes all mafia au fics), drinking, mentions of smoking, mafia hits, betrayal, profanity/strong language, dark themes, morally grey areas. Each story will have more tags and will be 18+ ONLY, so MDNI.

Sign up here if you would like to be tagged in each story :)

The stories will be posted in this exact order ☺️

all story banners and dividers done by @hobeemin (thank you like always 🩵)

The Price of Loyalty

Jeong Yunho x Choi Jongho x Reader You lead a double life as an executive at the Lee Group and a Butterfly Syndicate member who must infiltrate the Brotherhood of Ateez as a stripper. As feelings for Yunho and Jongho developes, and your father’s truth emerges, will you remain loyal to the Butterfly Syndicate or choose a different path? read it here

Between Duty and Desire

Jung Wooyoung x Reader Wooyoung, one of the high-ranking rookies of the Brotherhood, falls for one of his fellow rookies, not knowing that you’re actually an undercover cop. read it here

The Unbreakable Bond

Choi San x Reader When San is injured during a collection job, a kind stranger takes him in and nurses him back to health. Unaware of his ties to the Brotherhood, you soon find yourself pulled into a world of crime, loyalty, and unexpected connection. coming soon

A Rose in the Underworld

Kang Yeosang x Reader Yeosang, a master manipulator in the Brotherhood, seduces a strong-willed prosecutor to uncover the evidence she’s building against them. But as their power struggle intensifies, so does their mutual obsession. coming soon

Between Two Worlds

Song Mingi x Reader When your child is kidnapped by a rival gang, Mingi—fixer for the Brotherhood—steps in to help. His unexpected compassion bridges the gap between two very different worlds. coming soon

Beyond the Bloodline

Park Seonghwa x Reader You long for a peaceful life away from crime, but after falling for Seonghwa—unaware that he’s the underboss of your sister’s enemy gang—you’re caught between love and the blood feud between the Brotherhood and the Butterfly Syndicate. coming soon

Under the Crimson Moon

Kim Hongjoong x Reader At a fragile gang summit, old flames reignite between you and Hongjoong, now rival mafia bosses with a bloody past. But when you learn your sister is secretly dating his underboss, the tentative truce shatters, threatening war. coming soon

© xomakara - All works on this blog are protected under copyright. I do NOT allow any of my works to be entered into any form of AI

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Scotty Doesn't Know

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy.  The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Summers!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: So, your boy has seen Deadpool and Wolverine too many times and is currently experiencing Hugh Jackman brain rot. Had to write something after listening to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra and then it just kinda just took on a life of it's own. Let me know if you guys want more Logan fics because I'm so obsessed with this man rn.

“Just doing maintenance, or are you going for a ride?”

Logan looks up from where he was working on his bike. He damn near almost bites through the cigar in his mouth when he spots you leaning against the garage door. He shouldn’t be surprised; despite his best efforts, Logan always seems to be accompanied by your presence -- both at the mansion and in the field. It’s not that he wants to ignore your existence. Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. Logan wanted to scoff at Scott’s warning: opposed to public belief, he’s not actually an animal. 

The former was easy -- Jean made it abundantly clear that she’s in love with Scott. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan -- especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you. 

“Just working.”

You nod at his answer as he returns his attention to his bike, putting out his cigar in the process. His bluntness is unsurprising, but no matter how often Logan tries to blow you off, you still feel the harsh sting of disappointment. Logan Howlett is an enigma to you. A problem you just can’t seem to find the solution to. You’ve always gotten along with Logan and work well enough together that Charles often pairs the two of you up on missions. He protects you with his life in the field. He’s the first to offer you a helping hand when he notices you struggling. He consistently provides support after every mission that goes awry. It would be easy to consider him a friend; however, Logan has always kept you at a distance. He brushes you off whenever you ask if he wants to do something simple like share a drink or watch a movie. 

At first, you thought it was because he was afraid of you -- of your mutation. Just like your older brothers, you have the ability to manipulate energy. And just like your older brothers, you have difficulty controlling your powers without the help of external factors -- Alex had the suit, Scott has his glasses, and you have two siphons that you wear on either wrist. Without them, energy builds up in your body until it cannot be contained and then escapes through the only place it knows how -- your hands. The siphons help regulate the amount of energy coursing through your body, and most importantly, they give you the power to choose when and how to disperse it. 

During one of your missions, one of your siphons was destroyed. You and Logan were fighting for your lives against an anti-mutant militia after being separated from the rest of the X-men. The two of you were outnumbered and on your own since communication with the team had been cut off. Logan was willing to fight to the death against these soldiers, and you were prepared to back him up until the end. During the fight, Logan got pinned down by multiple assailants, and you watched helplessly as they attempted to decapitate your partner. You felt the familiar sensation of energy building throughout your body as you struggled against your own group of attackers. All hope seemed lost until one of the soldiers nailed you in the back of the head -- hard. The hit caused you to fall forward, and you braced yourself, using your hands to catch your falling body. As your hands connected with the ground, an energy field shot out of your hands. You prepared yourself for another blow, but it never comes. The chaos around you suddenly seemed to turn into an eerie silence. Finally, you look up and let out a shaky breath as you take in the carnage caused by your energy field. Everything around you was completely eviscerated -- everything except Logan.

Logan let out a low, pained groan, and you watched in horror as his body heals himself from the wounds you inflicted. You looked down at your hands in shock. It’s been ages since your powers were this volatile. Since you felt this out of control. At this moment, you noticed the state of your left siphon -- wholly shattered. No wonder you weren’t able to control your powers. 

The sound of your name eventually pulled your attention away from your hands. Looking up, you saw Logan cautiously approaching you. His concerned eyes scan your body for any injuries and once he seemed certain that you’re okay, he met your gaze.

“We need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t until the you were back on the jet with the rest of the team, that Logan approached you about what happened in the field. You were sitting away from the others at the back of the jet, studying your broken siphon. Suddenly, a pair of large hands cover yours, obscuring your siphon entirely. You look up and see Logan knelt in front of you. 

“You good?”

He didn’t move his hands from yours as he spoke and you relished in the contact. A dry laugh escaped your lips as you considered his question.

“I couldn’t control myself out there, Logan. Without my siphons, I’m just as dangerous as the enemy out there.”

Logan’s face softened at your words. He understands why you’re so panic-stricken right now -- knowing all too well how it feels to lose control.

“Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You scoffed at his words. Of course he’s fine. He’s damn near indestructible, but you saw the aftermath of your outburst. Saw the devastation caused by your hands. Those same hands that Logan is now tightening his grip around -- grounding you back in reality.

“Seriously. You might think you were a liability out there, but you saved my life.”

You met his eyes again and are taken aback by the sincerity you found in them. 

“I could have killed you.” 

And there it is -- what’s actually eating you up inside. He’s aware of the fact that your powers could have killed any of your teammates -- including himself. But they didn’t. He’s here with you, unafraid, because even though you think your powers are something that should be feared, he just finds them remarkable.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you didn’t.”

You nodded at his words, feeling a little more at ease. Your heart dropped as he removed his hands from yours, but instead of walking away, Logan took a seat next to you. He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to settle you down.

After that day, you thought maybe something changed between you and Logan. Although there was a newfound understanding and sureness with one another -- he still kept you at arm’s length. In all honesty, the whole situation confuses the shit out of you.

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan’s brow furrows at your question, and his eyes finally find yours again. He doesn’t drop the tool in his hand, but he’s shifted his body to face yours now.

“What?”

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan shakes his head as you repeat your question, looking at you incredulously. He doesn’t understand where this outburst is coming from.

“What are you talking about?”

Your brow furrows at the genuineness of his confusion. How could this man not know what you’re talking about?

“Do you like working with me?”

Logan blinks at your words. Now he’s completely lost. He sets down the tool in his hand and stands up, crossing both of his arms over his chest. 

“What’s this all about, sweetheart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and run your hands through your hair. If only this man knew how infuriated he makes you. So, he won’t drink a beer with you at the end of the day, but he’ll throw around the name ‘sweetheart’ like it’s nothing? The man is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite person.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I did that pissed you off.”

Logan scoffs at the idea as if you’re the one being ridiculous here. And, to Logan, you are being ridiculous. The only thing that’s ever pissed him about you is completely out of your control -- if only you weren’t Scott’s little sister.

“I’m not pissed at you.”

You genuinely want to pull your own hair out right now.

“Are we friends?”

Friends. The word hurts Logan more than it should. Actually, it shouldn’t hurt at all. That’s what you both are, right? Just friends and partners in the field. Except you’ve never been just a friend or just a partner to Logan. Not really. But he can’t do anything about that. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but his posture is still defensive. 

“Then why won’t you just drink a beer with me?”

Oh. Oh.

Logan supposes that his behavior is odd. Friends are expected to spend time together and well, the only time he spends with you is during training sessions or missions. Your whole relationship is grounded in the two of you working together, but somehow, it’s turned into something more intimate. The tender moments between missions and the tension during intense training sessions -- although Logan had attempted to make clear boundaries with you, the lines blurred at some point, and now Logan is left with the consequences.

“It’s complicated.”

He’s not wrong. He knows himself. His feelings for you were already complicated enough. If he were to close the distance he made between the two of you? Well, he may not actually be an animal, but he’s not sure if he could control himself. 

“Oh, is it?”

You’re frustrated. And you’re no longer leaning against the garage door. No, you’re standing just a few feet away from him now -- hands on your hips defiantly. Logan rolls his shoulders back, trying to stop himself from lashing out against you. You try to ignore how his muscles flex against the thin white tank top he’s wearing due to the movement. 

“Yeah, it is. I promised Scott…”

“This is seriously about my brother?”

“Well, yeah.”

You let out a dry laugh. This whole situation is absurd, but you should have known. Without Alex around, Scott feels the need to be the overprotective older brother. He’s warned you about Logan countless times since he first arrived at the mansion, but you never really listened to him. It always seemed ridiculous to you -- especially since the dangerous man he constantly warned you about was the same man he trusted to protect you during every mission. Of course, Scott also cautioned Logan to stay away from you.

“He may be my brother, but he doesn’t get to make my decisions for me, Logan.”

You take a step towards Logan and he watches you with an intensity that would make you uncomfortable if it were any other man. But this isn’t any other man. 

“And he doesn’t get to choose who I spend my time with.”

And in this moment, Logan knows that he’s fucked. You’re fiesty, and headstrong, and determined -- all attributes that he admires in you. If you’ve decided that he’s the person you want to spend your time with, then who is he to argue? 

“So what do you say -- wanna go for a ride?”

A wild grin spread across his face at your question. Little do you know that he’s thought about this exact moment more than he’ll ever care to admit. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabs his leather jacket and climbs on his bike. You watch him with bated breath as you wait for his response. Instead of giving you an answer, Logan kicks the starter, causing the motorcycle to roar to life. A part of you is afraid that you misconstrued your relationship and that this is all going to end with Logan riding off on his own. But then Logan looks back at you, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You coming, sweetheart?” 

Without a second thought, you climb on the back of his bike. Logan revs the engine once before glancing back at you again. 

“You might want to hang on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands slide under his leather jacket and wrap around his waist. Logan tries to fight off the shiver that begs to travel down his spine as he feels the warmth of your hands against his abdomen through the thin cotton fabric. He wonders if you know what you do to him -- how hard it is for him to pull away when he’s in your presence. It’s like you're a magnet made just for him.

“When your brother finds out…”

The laugh that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. And as you press your body closer to his, he decides that even if he’s going to hell for this, at least he gets to experience the heaven of this moment right here.

“What Scotty doesn’t know, won’t kill him.”

Logan shakes his head before peeling out of the garage. God, the Summers family is going to be the death of him.

[animeyanderelover]

Black Butler story where Claude, Sebastian, Hannah, and Ash all think reader is their mate/soulmate and fight over them leading to Undertaker finding out about them and becoming obsessed as well. Whether some of them team up and choose to share or not is up to you. Thank you!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, paranoia, clinginess, manipulation, gaslighting, isolation, abduction, violence, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz

Fighting over the same darling

ᥫ᭡Do you wish to see a whole city burn? For this is a nightmare which can turn frighteningly fast into a reality with not one, not two, not even three but five people who are the farthest thing from human being obsessed with you. Where exactly did it go so terribly wrong for you? Was it when you visited the young Earl of Phantomhive for business and caught the eye of his butler? Was it when you accepted an invitation to a prom in the name of the young Trancy lord accompanied by his butler? Was it when you decided to strike a conversation with the only woman in the household, noticing how she observed from the sidelines rather than being in the center? Or was it when you caught the eye of the butler of her majesty when she made a short appearance in public? Perhaps your fatal mistake starts even before all of those events yet what is undeniable that with each meeting something unraveled and now you are at a point in your life where nothing is like it used to be. A mate bond is a connection immediately forged and felt by the supernatural. A bond which is invisible to your eyes has chained you to four powerful creatures who will go to great lengths to have you.

ᥫ᭡Sebastian is the wolf in gentleman's clothes. Suave, charming and guaranteed to always make your heart flutter. It was he who laid eyes on you first and has been taken with you ever since. Your voice, your scent, your very essence is something that he craves for everyday. Never before has he entertained the thoughts of a mate yet it doesn't take long before he has recognised you as such. If he were aware that he has fair competition he would claim you as his solely because he found you first. Yet he knows that everyone else is far away from traditional honor and fairness hence why such a silly claim would never work. Of course if he were in their position he wouldn't care for that meaningless argument either. He is a demon after all who takes what he desires. For the others he imagines it must be the same. With no allies by his side, Sebastian finds himself working alone. He cannot rely on his master to help him nor could any of the human servants offer more than a short distraction against those he must face. So with a thrilling ensemble of tension and anticipation he enters this fight alone. Centuries of a long and greedy life have taught him lessons that will undoubtedly be useful.

ᥫ᭡Claude is much more direct in his approach. Thoughts of a mate have rarely crossed his mind yet when he finds out that it is you, he is surprised to figure out that he is bonded to a human. Yet there isn't even the briefest hint of disappointment. Just a deep-rooted entitlement that you are his. Whilst still striving to charm and seduce his patience is much shorter than those of many others. He doesn't seek out a long game that many others seem to want to drag on as he wants to claim you as quickly as he can. The actions he takes can therefor be much more aggressive and sometimes even far too impulsive, giving his emotional state of desperation away to his opponents. In Hannah he assumes to have a pawn at the beginning as he has always done the mistake of underestimating her. Yet he soon finds out that the control he believed he has over her is shaky at best as Hannah too has found her mate in you. Working for the same master you would assume that they would work together but Claude doesn't plan to form an alliance as he knows neither one would even entertain the thought of sharing. So he uses her as little as possible by using her weak spot in Alois.

ᥫ᭡If Sebastian is the wolf in a gentleman's skin than Hannah is the wolf hiding behind the sheep's skin. She is quiet and mellow which fools initially everyone and it fools you for the longest time. Differently from the other demons she has found herself wondering about a mate, especially once the death of the little brother of Alois shook her heart more than expected. She is capable of emotions, more than other demons perhaps, but that makes her all the more intense when she finds her mate in you. She doesn't woo and court you as openly as others as she instead seeks to claim your heart through quiet manipulation and a forced dependency on her. Everything that might intimidate or frighten you in those who also chase you, she hides on purpose to create the illusion of a safe space for you when with her. With the demon triplets she has pawns that she can use in her game even though they lack the experience and strength that others posses. Still, she has additional eyes who can watch you and helping hands to set traps and put her plans in motion. You won't find out until it is too late just how scheming and dangerous Hannah is though. At heart she is still a demon.

ᥫ᭡Ash is impatience personified. If Claude has a short temper and little patience compared to others, than Ash has none of it. His infatuation is a direct stab to the heart that aches so much that he is physically in pain. It comes harsh and fast and leaves him trembling. Thoughout his entire life he has considered your kind to be tainted and dirty, in need of a cleansing to rid the souls of all their tainted emotions and sins. Then he lays his eyes on you though. And in a world drenched in lies and sins, you are a singular beacon of hope. The web of impurity is far too big for you to avoid it forever though as eventually you will be caught in it like a helpless butterfly. The presence of three demons in your life is only a confirmation. Demons are creatures who yearn to destroy all that is good. So you have to be protected from those who wish to break you open and devour you. With Pluto doing all his bids and the Queen under his control who has authority over both Alois and Ciel, Ash has arguably the most cards. Yet in his burning paranoia he fails to play them right which is a weakness that everyone else learns to explore quickly. This game is far from being over for him though.

ᥫ᭡Undertaker is the odd one in all of this. For him the concept of mates doesn't apply as it does for everyone else. What you have going for you though is the fact that four strong creatures chase after you. That is an achievement so rare that it is enough for him to seek you out. Not of obsession yet but of curiosity. What could it be that has made you so fascinating for fate to burden you with such a life? Undertaker revels in chaos so he hides you and offers you protection simply because he wishes to observe the reactions of everyone else. Initially it is all for his own entertainment. Until he too falls for you. Not because you are his mate but due to a connection that has been forged through close observations and an interest that has grown into dangerous fondness. He doesn't tell you of that just yet though. He has been granted a special privilege where you hand him most of your trust the further this game of obsession has spun and he plans to use that to his advantage. For him there is a different playground and different rules as Undertaker is a Shinigami. He has knowledge no one else has and has different tricks up his sleeves that not even someone like Sebastian would be able to predict.

ᥫ᭡There will be no such thing as sharing amongst any of them. They are all creatures driven by their own sense of entitlement. The demons view you as their mate to protect and keep, Ash is deluded in his belief that you need to be locked away to preserve your purity and Undertaker doesn't plan to let go of the one person who has made him feel alive again after so many centuries of chasing only fleeting entertainment to fill his heart somewhat. However, there is an unofficial agreement that happens amongst Sebastian, Claude and Hannah. Whilst there is little that connects them they are still kin. All of them are demons. Ash and Undertaker are something else. Ash is an angel who is the sworn enemy of any demon and Undertaker is a shinigami whose attachment they do not view as respectable enough for he didn't imprint like they did. Both play by different rules and it is that difference that leads to a fragile agreement that doesn't bound. If there should ever be a fight where one or both of the unwanted participants is present the demons will go for them rather than fighting amongst themselves. They aren't going to actively help each other but they won't actively attack each other either then.

ᥫ᭡It could have all been something that happened right beneath the noses of the people. A fight that leaves visible traces but no way of identifying the culprits. It is Ash's abduction that shatters everything. Everyone else could have played an intense and destructive long game where betrayal and dirty play would have been as common as breathing. Yet Ash has the most intense need to protect you from the evil and with three demons and one shinigami, all harbingers of death and destruction. He cannot let you wither away under their corruptive forces. That abduction is the trigger that leads to dire consequences for every soul that lives in the city. More violence is used as the intent to eradicate the rivals heightens. Buildings burn. Structures collapse. People die. The greed amongst everyone grows. Even the respective masters of each demon are unable to do anything for this is a matter that transcends even the contracts. A mate is worth more than even the rare souls that Alois and Ciel have to offer so there is at one point no leverage that could be held against Hannah, Claude and Sebastian which chips away the control Ash thought he had by using the Queen to his own advantages.

ᥫ᭡At the end of it all there will only be one creature left standing. The deaths and the destruction that it has taken to get to that point will be immeasurable though. A whole city will have been burned and terrorised all in your name yet most victims won't even know who their killers were nor that a simple human was the catalyst of it all. Whether it all boils down to one big fight between everyone or if there will be violent but sneaky attacks to sort out single rivals beforehand is a question only time can answer. Depending on how terrible the fights escalate it could be possible that by the end of it you are the only survivor left in a city that has been burned and torn down to nothing but ruins. No matter how violent and bloody everyone gets, their most primal principle is that no physical harm shall come your way. Your emotional wellbeing is a different subject of course as your heart will be torn apart over time as every party tries to claim it for themselves, leaving fractured parts at the end of it all. That is nothing that your now final captor can fix and use to their advantage though. Now it is only the two of you after all with all the time in the world.

[thewistlingbadger]

Jinx did not purposefully kill Silco, Jinx did not "choose Vi over Silco", Jinx did not kill Silco to protect Vi, and Jinx did not kill Silco out of love for Vi.

Jinx only kills Silco out of instinct. This is demonstrated time and time again with the crows. Jinx is heavily associated with crows in arcane. Yes they're a symbol for death and the macabre but they also serve a narrative and character purpose.

Crows show up whenever Jinx is about to fly off the handle. They show up when she tries to beat Vi's score, they show up when the firelights interrupt her reunion, and they show up on the night she kills Silco. Crows are used to show us when something really fucking bad is about to happen to Jinx.

They also show us something very INTEGRAL to her character: she is willing to kill anything that so much as moves, even when she knows it's not a threat. Jinx is initially startled by a crow when she goes to the place she and her family used to hang out. She pulls out her gun, realizes it's just a bird (not a threat), and shoots it anyway. This is REALLY important and is hinting at the finale.

Jinx is someone who lives in a very dangerous and hostile environment. She's been exposed to violence all her life, and there's many things to be afraid (many things she IS afraid of) in Zaun. It's instinct to protect herself because everyone hates her and is out to get her.

In the finale, Jinx PURPOSELY and INTENTIONALLY puts her ONLY WEAPON IN FRONT OF SILCO when threatened by Caitlyn. Why? Because she knows Silco will protect her. She knows that if shit hits the fan, if push comes to shove, if she is somehow put in a position where she cannot defend herself, Silco will defend her. Always. If she was afraid of Silco or what he might do or if she was afraid for Vi's safety, she would have NOT put the gun in his reach. She KNOWS he's anti-vi, she KNOWS he doesn't like her, he is literally arguing against her in this scene. She also knows that Silco has no limits, no line unwilling to cross. Silco would EASILY and perhaps happily kill Vi if given the chance. But she puts the gun in front of him because she trusts him and knows he'd do anything for her.

And ultimately, he DOES die defending her. Vi trying to call members of the past actively and explicitly puts Jinx in a place of pain and hurt. She is actively damaging her sister and making her the most unstable we've ever seen this. VI doesn't know she's doing this because vi lives in the past and the past has always been her refuge. But the past has always been jinx's nightmare and personal hell. Silco knows this because HE was there. He was there for every meltdown and mental breakdown, he knows her and knows what she's like, which is WHY he does everything in his power to get her to stop. The amount of violence and aggression he enters just to get Vi to stop is actually insane. We have NEVER seen him act this way. He's yelling at the top of his lungs and THRASHING IN HIS CHAIR to get her to stop, because he knows A. This is hurting Jinx and B. No good will come from this. He tells her to shut up, physically tries to get her to stop, and then he notices the gun (notice how is initial reaction wasn't to just kill her? Notice how he tried other methods before physical and actual violence?). He grabs the gun, point the gun at Vi, and press the trigger. But the bullets don't come out, the safety pin activates.

Jinx hears the pin. This is the only thing that manages to pull her out of her meltdown: the threat of violence. She's not in a place to process or analyze the situation. Upon instinct, she opens fire on everyone within the room, firing at random. Her only intention to put down the threat of violence. Both Vi and Silco's chair have bullet holes, showing that this is the case.

It takes her a while to calm down but once she does, she realizes what she's actually done. She realizes the threat was no threat at all.

[bruhhxiao]

Rebirth

(sfw/nsfw)

Seth x fem!Reader

!Warnings: there might me some sexual scenes but not to much, death and rebirth of reader, (Y/N) rarely used !

Requested by: @lillycore

☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥•☥

You and Seth were one thing, always thinking about each others but unfortunately your relationship was secret since you were just a mortal.

He would have left his throne exposed or his temple in silence just to spend a few hours with you. He was the god of violence and desert tempests, but your eyes met for the first time and there was only one tempest and it was in his chest, so he got curious.. visiting you at night watching your body wrapped around the linen sheets, or he would dissolve into sand and follow you around while you were busy with duties, or maybe worry Horus for his less anger towards anything. Because he was in love.

He would burst out of the temple after Nephthys begged him to end this story, she knew he started to get affectionate with you. Until a day he couldn’t take it anymore and shows himself to you. His body building little by little with sand while you holed the heavy container of water, his hand caressing your cheek as he leaned closer. You were completely froze, did you do something wrong to make the god Seth get to you?

When he has gotten closer to you doesn’t take time for you to reply, his lips sweetly touching yours making you drop the container and he realized. But from them moment and after he fully fell in love with you.

Your relationship started to grow time to time, he would visit you at night or take you in his chamber, and he would make it embarrassing because he doesn’t lay a hand on you, he just sits on the bed listening to your journey thinking how boring is to be a god.

But he noticed something, he would have thought that it was just a habit or that your lungs were just weak because you were a mortal, he didn’t mind it, he thought it was normal till your coughing got worse. To the point you had to hold your chest for the pain and find small drops of blood in your hand. You hide it from Seth but he notice your body getting weaker as days pass. And after a few days of absence the day came.

He could find you or even his servants couldn’t find you in the village and he finally decided to go to your house. He came at night when everyone where asleep a part of him regretted to see you but the other made him realize that maybe that was the last time he could hug you.

He knelt next to your shaking figure. Your body was boiling and sweating, your lung taking just the half of air. His arms sliding behind your shoulders and pulling you closer to his. He never felt this way: scared, strengthless, sad.

He kissed your temple and picked you up running to Anubis temple, of cousin the other gods were aware of the situation. There he goes begging on his knees with your body cooling in his arms, so pitiful, begging Anubis to talk to Osiris and make him spare your life.

The god ignored his request but Anubis done something that would have changed Seth life without his knowledge. He kept you as wandering soul till the day he betrayed Osiris and made you reborn.

There were you finally visiting Egypt for the first time in your life. All the studies and stories they told you about ancient Egypt made you more curious day by day. Your mother told you that your first word was a god name. And as you grew up you choose to believe in Egypt gods going against your own religion, but why.

There was something that no one couldn’t explain, how you got so affectionate to them from a very young age.

After a long period of stress you went to a trip with your friends to visit Cairo. You were excited. The next day you went visiting all the places and talked with some people and shared differences of culture and religion.

You packed your bag full of cameras and polaroids since you’re going for a tour of the Nile. It was dark and the only option was to find a place to eat and go to an Hotel around the area.

There you were enjoining the view on the restaurant balcony, the air was hot but the soft wind made it fell better. You were walking down the stairs for the silent garden downstairs, you laid on a bench as the smell of nature relaxed your tense muscles as your heart was beating in peace, you closed your eyes smiling like a dork remembering all the funny things that happened during these days and how this beautiful places made you feel like home.

You opened your eyes as you felt a drop falling down your cheek, you were expecting to find the stars covered by clouds and the moon losing her brightness. But you found two shining eyes hiding under a mask. You jolted by the surprise and sat yourself holding your chest meanwhile the figure also stepped back while the fountain limits the escape distance behind him.

You stood up you had plenty space to run away but you didn’t, you weren’t scared.

“Y/N it’s time to go back to the hotel!! Y/N!” you heard your friend scream from the balcony.

“Y/N…” Seth repeated your name under his breath, your eyes glued on the jackal-shaped mask until your friend called for you once again, Seth noticed and he dissolved himself into send disappearing.

He left you speechless, left you like a sculpted statue. You snapped out of your thought and rushed to the others.

Once you arrived at the hotel you locked yourself in, those eyes, just thinking about them made your heart race.

That mask was familiar, you searched on internet and bingo, that mask was related to a god very dear to you, Seth.

“The doctor warned me, there are too many flus and viruses going around here. I am hallucinating.” You said checking your temperature and turning on the Air Conditioning.

“But weren’t they half animals?..” you kept wondering till the day you had to go back home.

You searched on the internet but there were so many theories that the one you knew from childhood sounded crazy to you in that moment. You kept reading, working day after days neglecting your sleep and hunger. It was around midnight when your headache was getting worse and sometimes you would feel dizzy as well, you lay on the bed. “Just five minutes” sounded like a loop in your head till you fall asleep.

You felt a warm sensation o your left cheek but you thought it was from the sickness, but then you hear pressure one you chest, you heard a mumbling voice and it sounded relieved.

Your head moves to your chest and meets a very familiar but strange texture, you slowly open your eyes and by the soft light from the light stand you see a few red strings of red hair falling out the clothing that was attached to his mask.

You kind felt better but your muscles were too weak push him away. Seth raised his head turning towards your face, you couldn’t see much because of the jackal mask but you saw his trembling lips. It felt like Deja vu…

His hand reached the mask taking it off slowly and when your eyes met you saw a very similar expression but this time he wasn’t crying. You smelled sand, you smelled wheat and some hints of flax for a were short second. His name, hi face, his touch and his voice sounded clearer in your head.

“I thought he was going to take you away from me again…” he said before you could even clear your throat.

As you pronounce his name he holds you hand to his chest while his left hand holds your cheek, he sat closer next to you leaning down slightly. You couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not because you started to remember how the warm sand felt under your feet while you walked next to him talking about the mortals life.

Suddenly you got flashbacks of your last hour of life, he was sitting just like in the past and you felt pain on your chest, you were living a nightmare but the difference was that you’re staying alive. He noticed something was wrong, how your breathing got heavier and how your eye contact was so intense.

Who would have thought that the god of violence, destruction and desert tempest had stopped everything with a simple gesture, a simple kiss, a sweet stamp pressed against your lips. You felt something, you felt free, you felt hundreds chains letting you go and run towards freedom like a curse was broken.

You finally spoke, calling his name. Your hand reached his back pulling him in a hug, he leaned closer and both of his arms hugged you. Kiss sweet as figs while he laid on top of you making everything more passionate. Only he knows how much he wanted to do that before, holding you while making love and not seeing you suffering till your last breath.

His hands traveling under your T-shirt and take it off eventually, his right hand didn’t hesitate and he moved to your shorts. His hand slips inside the clothing serving you of some preparation before taking both shorts and panties off. He breaks the kiss for a few seconds waiting for a reaction from you, but you didn’t, you felt like him.

He toke off the cloth around his waist and position himself against your intimacy, he holds you as he slides into you. He was gentle, how his hands caressed your body made you feel like you were made of thin glass. His hips attached to yours, your back arches making you wrap your arm around his neck. The room was death silent, just your heavy breaths. Your reflection reflected back to you by the mirror next to your closet showing you how his buttocks contracted how he thrusted faster.

Somehow he noticed, his shoulders moved back a little as his hand turned your chin to him and he kissed you as you both reached pleasure. His hip’s grinding against yours and his arms held you tight against him, his lips travelled to your next leaving sweet pecks.

“My sweet baby.. I won’t let anyone anything happen to you again” he said kissing your cheek.

“But you’re a god, I’m a mortal” you said caressing his face.

“I can make you a demigod, but it won’t be easy for Ra” he says.

“but you might lose your memory…” he continued showing a bit of concern and worries in his eyes.

“I won’t never let anyone take you away from my memory.” You said cupping both of his checks kissing him.

Sure the Demi god might have suffered for thousand years and he never expected to hold you again in a healthy body like she always been with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Helooo, again sorry for taking so long, I apologize to the one who requested :’)

Hope y’all enjoy<3 btw I have more requests of ennead coming up soon, very soon :p see yaa!!!

[goatgoesmbe]

Being Valeria's sweet little gf wife. Who knew what she did for work.

It wasn't like Valeria kept it a secret, but she didn't outwardly told you about it either.

When you found out, you're not surprised. You grew up in Las Almas, so you've seen some shits, and came to get used to it.

Besides, you can't really judge anyone's occupation in this economy and this environment.

Most of them just didn't have the privilege of having a choice to choose what to do in order to feed their family.

Plus, working with Valeria provide them safety from gangs and the like.

You've seen how she cares about her men in a way, despite appearing harsh towards them.

She saw them as humans, not casting them aside when they got hurt in a fight against some militia- like they were deemeds unuseful.

Nothing about her men escaped her, so when she heard one of them have a sick child back home and was struggling to pay for treatment- she didn't hesitate to send the kid to a prestigious hospital away, free of charge (she didn't tell the dad about it and just straight up send someone to abduct take the child and told em to keep the kid safe, and it made him panicked, but still-)

You've always been someone who can see the good in other people after all, even the worst kind of people. That's the reason you're able to date her in the first place. That's one of the reasons that made her fall in love with you.

And so, here you are. With a tray of warm home-cooked meal in hands. Walking towards a room you know she used to take her.. "guests".

As you got closer, you can hear a loud smack followed by pained grunt, then a voice of your beloved shouting curse words in spanish.

Fidgeting on your spot, you looked up at one of Valeria's men guarding the door. "Can i come in?".

You could practically see gears turning in his head. The logical part is to deny, keep your sweet little self away from violence, but denying your presence to Valeria would be death sentence.

And so he knocked on the door.

"WHAT" her voice screeched, making the man jolted despite it being muffled behind the door.

And then your cute little face peeked inside, and her demeanor changed 180'.

You took in the state of the 'guests' she's keeping. Brits, from what you've heard, there are four of them all tied up, the biggest one with a skull mask chained to the wall, one with a full beard tied to a chair in front of your gf wife. Seemed like he was the one who let out those pained grunts before.

"Um.. i was just thinking that your friends must be hungry" And as your sweet voice broke the silence, all of their attention were on you.

She let you in, and gave you a tender kiss before letting you feed them. She even let you tend to their wounds as if she wasn't the cause of it.

That is, until she noticed the one with the mohawk shamelessly ogled you. She did her best to not snap in front of her sweet chica, and beckoned you over, making you sit in her lap as she asked about your day.

She looked at you like you're a precious flower. Playing with your hair before her eyes trailed to her hostages with a smug smile. An unspoken message, you're hers.

And people probably think that it's stupid of Valeria to show her enemies her weakness, you. They might take advantage of it, might hurt you to get to her.

But it's them who are stupid, for she would never let anyone- even the infamously ruthless one in the skull mask to touch a single strand of your hair.

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

sevika and her kitty gf! ^.^

author's note - uhhh this kinda sucks but i have better shit coming i promise!!!!

content warnings - fluff mostly, mentions of death i think??? or mentions of violence- MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE!!!!!

--------------------------------------------

- in my head, nekos can like pick and choose whether they want to be in cat-form or hybrid form, and that's kinda what happened when you two met.

- it was an especially bad day for sevika, another one of jinx's plans had failed which had meant silco had thrusted the responsibility of cleaning up his daughter's mess on his #2 . it was exhausting, having to care for a child she hadn't even signed up for. she had longed for a connection that wasn't about power or obligation, just pure domesticity.

- a group of drunks was messing around with you in an alleyway, throwing rocks at you and such, usually sevika would walk on with her night. but something stopped her from doing that this time and she scared the group off with her presence rather quickly.

- you nuzzled your face against her leg, rubbing on it repeatedly as the prettiest purrs came out of your mouth, she let you stay like that for a while until she decided to continue her walk back home.

- but everytime she turned around, she would see you curiously follow her around, your ears perked up and your paws never planted that much on the ground.

- she tried scolding you, yelling at you, trying to get you purposefully lost in dark places. but she eventually caved and let you follow her. "one night only."

- she didn't know what to feed you so she cooked you salmon because it's common knowledge that cats like fish.

- she let you roam around the house, gritting her teeth everytime she had to reprimand you each time your paw almost "slipped" and broke something. but at least you were smart enough to not repeat the same mistake twice. you listened well, she'll give you that.

- at some point, she found herself in bed with a kitty sleeping snuggly on her chest, her upper body vibrating as the creature was purring happily atop of the feared woman, your tail tickling sevika's buff arms every now and again.

- she'd never admit it to anyone but she melted when she saw you like that, having imprinted on her already.

- you could understand her surprise when sevika expected to see a furry friend perched on top of her chest and woke up next to a random woman with the same fluffy ears as the cat she couldn't find anywhere else in her home.

- after you had explained to her what you were and your abilities, she had felt way better than she had when she thought a random woman came into her house.

- you had offered her something no one else ever had. if she had provided you with a place to stay, you would provide her with some type of companionship.

- she was hesitant and hadn't believed you could offer her anything she hadn't already had. but she agreed, half out of amusement and half out of thinking this was a gift from the universe somehow.

- you'd always be waiting at the door in cat-form for her when it was time for her to come home. at first you'd take the initiative and lay down in her lap. curling yourself up in a comfy ball, spreading your paws out on sevika's thighs.

- after a while of getting used to this sevika would pick you up herself and situate you somewhere close to her, you two would usually stay there for the remainder of the night.

- when you're in hybrid form and cuddling, she loves to stroke your tail while you're on top of her. she'll call you a pretty kitty as you purr into the crook of her neck.

- whenever you two get into an argument, you immediately go into cat-form and walk off somewhere else when you've had enough, something sevika both loves and hates.

- wouldn't it be so funny if sevika had started bringing you around to the last drop with her while she's gambling. it was unheard of before but no one was going to question sevika. but then some guy cursed at you or something for getting too close to him while you were wandering around and then she had to beat some guy's ass over her cat.

- loves when you put your head in her lap and she can give your ears a good scratch.

- when she's had a really terrible day, you'll lay down on her chest and plant little kitten kisses all over her skin.

[dayasfilms]

Chapter One - The Disappearance

ㅤSummary: You don’t think too much about your best friend’s absence at school until your mom tells you about a new case that came to her desk involving a missing child. The missing child being your best friend’s younger brother.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. No mentions of Y/N. Some mistakes in information, not everything is factual.

Word Count: 2.1k

Note: Thank you for choosing to read my Stranger Things series! I just want to emphasize that the reader’s first name is your choice, however, her last name is still Kaul because of her mother, Yasmin Kaul. The reader and her mother are two important characters in the story, so there will be times where the scene shifts to Yasmin’s perspective. The entire series is still based on the reader, but the scenes with Yasmin are essential to the plot. Also, in the show, it mentions that Hawkins is 80 miles from Indianapolis, but due to Yasmin’s work being located there, let’s pretend Hawkins is 40 miles from Indianapolis. I truly hope you will continue to read and enjoy this story until the end!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

The chair scuffed against the wooden floor as you pulled it back, taking a bite of your apple as you sat on it. Your eyes trailed out the window, stuck on the trees outside the yard. A bird landed on a branch, which had little to no leaves, with the remaining few turned into a combination of reds and oranges as the November weather grew colder.

A loud thump made you jump, turning your head to look at the source of the sound to see your mom, Yasmin, picking up a few books. Putting them back on the corner table, she walked into the kitchen, giving a small smile as she took out a glass before turning the faucet on. “Morning, sweetie.”

“Morning,” you responded warmly. You turned your head back to the stack of books. “Sorry, I was going to take them to my room but forgot to.”

Yasmin turned the faucet off as she took a sip from her glass, waving her hand. “It’s okay, you were working late on your project and were tired. I should have seen it while I was walking in here. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

You grinned, nodding your head before taking another bite. You watched your mom wash the glass before putting it back in its spot. “You’re not going to eat anything?”

Shaking her head, Yasmin grabbed her jacket that she left hanging over one of the chairs and put it on. “No, I just got a call about another case on my desk. Something about a missing person. I need to get there a little earlier today. I’ll just grab a coffee on my way.”

You nodded your head, taking one more bite before throwing the apple in the trash. You stood up from your chair, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, I have to go to school now. Let’s walk out together.”

Entering the school, you heard chattering and laughter as people walked to their lockers or classrooms. You opened your locker, scanning the hallways. Your eyebrows furrowed as you noticed that your best friend, Jonathan, still didn’t show up yet. He was always there earlier than you. Shrugging, you took off your jacket and shoved it into your locker, closing the door shut.

You began to walk to your class when you felt a presence falling into step with you. You rolled your eyes, not sparing a glance before speaking. “What do you want, Steve?”

A little startled that you somehow figured out it was him without looking, he quickly shook it off before smirking. “Noticed your little friend isn’t here with you. You looked lonely.”

Scoffing, you picked your speed up a bit faster. “Oh yeah? A little birdie tell you that?” You saw your classroom door come into view. “And just because I’m walking alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m perfectly capable of being by myself.”

“No, of course,” Steve responded, putting his hands up in surrender. “Still don’t get why you hang out with that freak, anyway.”

Your blood boiled at the name, turning around in anger as you faced the boy. “Don’t call him that,” you seethed, making sure not to yell and gather the attention of everyone nearby. “And what’s it to you? I don’t think you should be caring what another girl does when you were making out with Nancy Wheeler in the bathroom not even five minutes ago.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, but you still said it.” Rolling your eyes once more, you turned back around to continue your steps. “And do you always go around harassing your ex-girlfriends, or am I the only exception?”

Not waiting to hear a response, you walked inside the classroom.

Parking your car in the driveway, you noticed your mom still was not home yet. After locking the front door, you immediately went to the phone to call Jonathan. After a few rings, a frantic Joyce Byers picked up, leaving you confused. “Hello?!”

“Uh, Joyce, hi, it’s me,” you greeted as you said your name. “Jonathan wasn’t at school today so I wanted to check up on him. Is he okay?”

You heard a shaky breath come from Joyce before you heard some shuffling and Jonathan responding with your name. “Hey.”

You leaned against the wall. “Everything okay? Are you sick?”

“No, no, I’m not sick,” Jonathan answered, but you could hear the shakiness in his voice. You waited for him to continue. “Will’s missing.”

“What?!” Your heart hammered against your chest as you stood up straight, not quite sure that you heard what he said correctly. “He didn’t come back from Mike’s last night?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I’m on my way.” You instantly put the phone down and got your keys, rushing out the door and getting in your car to drive to the Byers’ home. It didn’t take long for you to reach the Byers’. You parked your car and quickly got out, running to the door before knocking on it rapidly. The door opened to reveal a distressed Jonathan Byers. You walked in and saw Joyce Byers, Jonathan’s mom, on the phone.

“What happened?” You asked, worriedness laced in your voice.

Jonathan took a deep breath, looking back at his mom. “Mom was at work last night and I was supposed to be home but I took an extra shift and now Will’s gone. Missing. And we don’t know where he is. And it’s my fault.” You looked at the boy and saw the pained look on his face. You instantly wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. We’ll find him. Please don’t blame yourself, alright?” You heard Joyce put down the phone and let go of Jonathan, walking over to the woman. Joyce looked at you as you took note of the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall out. You hugged the woman as you attempted to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, Joyce. I’m sure they’ll be able to find him. Have you called my mom yet?”

Joyce pulled back and nodded her head. “Thank you, sweetie, and yes, I already called your mom and Hopper.”

She walked away as you turned towards your friend. “Why didn’t you call me this morning? I would have come straight away, Jonathan.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. We still haven’t found him and there was no reason for you to miss school because of us.”

You knitted your eyebrows together as you glared at him. “No reason? Jonathan, Will’s like a younger brother to me. My mom may not have told me because she’s already busy looking for him, but you could have called me. I’d drop anything for you guys.” Jonathan didn’t say anything and you didn’t push further, not wanting to make him more upset. “Okay, listen, we have a few hours of daylight left. Let’s get out there and see if we can find anything.”

“We already checked, the police came and even found his bike, but no sign of Will,” Jonathan breathed out, his eyes glassy.

You pursed your lips. “Hm, maybe they missed something. It’s possible. I’m sure my mom’s already gathered a search party. She’s dealt with a lot of missing person cases, especially children. She’ll find him, okay?” You rubbed your hands against his arms, trying to calm him down.

Jonathan nodded his head. You took his hand and dragged him out of the house, walking towards the woods nearby.

Your mind went back to this morning, about how your mom mentioned she received a new case this morning about a missing person. You wouldn’t have guessed it would be someone so close to you. You knew your mom didn’t even know it was Will himself until she reached her office, or else you would have found out from her.

You and Jonathan spent the next hour calling out Will’s name, scouting the surrounding area for any clues. The day was starting to become night, and soon enough, you would have to go back home and hope that Will would be found soon if not today.

Walking back to the Byers’ house, you held Jonathan’s hand as you reassured him. “We’re going to find him, Jonathan, okay?” Your heart broke for the family, for Will. “I know this doesn’t really mean anything and nothing I say is going to change the situation, but as long as there is no body, he’s still out there. We will find him.”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around you, and you could feel the tears streaming down his face onto your jacket. You rubbed his back soothingly, wanting nothing more than to find Will. You hoped he was somewhere safe.

You pulled back, wiping away his tears. “You and Joyce need to get some sleep. If anything happens, call my mom or me as soon as you can, alright?”

“Thank you,” Jonathan responded, watching as you climbed into your car. He watched as you drove away before walking back into his house.

As you drove, you couldn’t think of any reason as to how Will may have gone missing. Hawkins was quiet, a small town where nothing happened. A strange feeling bubbled up inside of you, a feeling you had not felt in a long time.

Will was like a little brother to you. Will and his close friends, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. You sometimes offered to babysit them when their parents were busy when they were younger, creating a close bond with them. You were always a little tough with them, never showing them your soft spot for the boys. Not Will, though. You were always soft with Will, knowing he was a lot more quiet and sensitive than the others.

You felt something wet on your face, bringing a hand up to swipe at it. You had not even realized you were crying.

Pulling up in your driveway, you finally saw your mom’s car. You rushed inside to see her sitting at the kitchen counter, her head shooting up at the sound of the front door opening.

Yasmin stood up, walking over to you as her eyebrows furrowed. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Where were you?”

“I was at Jonathan's,” you answered. “Sorry, I should have left a note.”

Realization hit Yasmin and she sighed. “No, it’s alright. God, we tried all day looking for him,” she said, walking back over to the kitchen counter. You followed. “All we found was his bike.”

You crossed your arms, not liking the tone in her voice. “What do you think?”

Yasmin shook her head. “I’m hoping he’s just lost but sweetie, you already know the chances of finding a missing child after twenty-four hours.”

“Very low,” you mumbled, aware of the statistics. It’s hard not to ask questions when your mom is an FBI agent and you also want to go into law yourself.

“Hopper thinks Will ran away to his dad’s,” Yasmin stated, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t seem like the type to run away, I know this. There doesn’t even seem to be a reason for him to run away.”

“Yeah, and especially not to his dad’s,” you grimaced. The idea of Will running off to his dad’s place in the city was improbable. “And how would he have even gotten there? It’s already a long drive to the city, let alone going there by foot.”

“I don’t know,” Yasmin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked down at the files in front of her, before looking back up at you. She could see guilt crossing your face and she immediately took your hand. “Hey, sweetie, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, okay?”

You shook your head. “No, but, what if he’s in trouble, mom? Maybe something happened and he didn’t feel like he could tell anyone.”

“I know you feel like you have this urge to protect the kids and everyone you love, but you have to remember that you can’t save everyone, okay?” Yasmin reminded you, a reminder she has to deal with on a daily basis. “You have to remember this when you go into law yourself, my girl.”

You smiled, your eyes trained on your joined hands. “Yeah, I know…”

“Okay, good,” Yasmin whispered, kissing your forehead. “Now get some sleep. We’re all going to need it.”

You hugged your mom tight, listening to the sound of her heartbeat against your ears before pulling away. You began to walk away before mumbling a quiet goodnight, walking upstairs to your room.

[kirikorik]

Dawn over Rome

Emperor Geta / OC (Helena - Acacia's daughter)

Part1! Part2! Part3! Part4...

Summary: "General Acacius has fallen," exclaims Emperor Geta. "But he left us the most precious thing he had—his daughter! The sun of our Rome!" If the road leads to the abyss, only a madman would walk it with submission. But does a prisoner have the right to choose? "In the name of peace, I shall take his daughter as my lawful wife!" Peace is merely a word behind which violence hides. Oaths sworn in blood do not smell of blessing but of a curse. "Smile, my little bird, you are to bear the emperor's child," a warm, sticky whisper. "And remember, your whore of a mother is still alive." She is his. She will be his. Just as the sun belongs to the sky, just as fire devours wood, so too was Helena made to burn for him alone…

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!

Warnings: Forced Marriage, Rape, Rough Sex, Possessive Behavior, Obsession, Sex Dubious, Consent Mildly Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, public sex, Sexual Overstimulation, Depression, Angst, Drama, Blood and Violence, Unrequited, Love, Sexual Content, Complicated Relationships, Sexism, Sexual Inexperience, Cruelty, Feelings, Possessive Sex, Pregnancy, Forced Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding.

Dawn

With the first rays of the sun enveloping Rome in golden radiance, the Colosseum awakens to life. The rays flow down the marble walls, spreading over the stones like molten gold. The air is heavy with the scent of blood, dust, and oil from the torches still smoldering after the night's riot.

The crowd hums, its shouts and murmur blending into a single rhythm, like the sea crashing against rocks. Waves of voices break again and again against the walls of the Colosseum, rolling in echoes through the ancient stones, filling every crack, every curve of the stands. The air trembles with tension. The scent of fear, sweat, and sun-heated blood intertwines with the aroma of resinous torches, spilled cheap wine, and the stench of drains. This is the pulse of the city, its thirst, its beastly grin.

Its eternal hunger.

But now comes a moment of silence—fleeting, deceptive. Like a beast, pausing for a moment before the leap. Thousands of heads lean forward at once, catching the breath of power. Some lips are parted in anticipation, others clenched like those of cornered dogs.

Rome smells of decay. Not just of rotten meat and sewage but of human flesh—the sickly-sweet, warm scent of blood seeping into stone, sand, and palace walls. It clings to the skin, penetrates the pores, saturates the hair. Even the haughty patricians, wrapping themselves in fresh togas, cannot escape it. They pour perfumes over it in vain, but Rome always betrays itself.

The life of the Colosseum is the smell of charred flesh, screams, sweat, and the perspiration of fear. It is the fat flies swarming over fresh corpses, settling on dried crimson stains embedded in the stone. It is the crowd roaring, rushing like jackals sensing prey. And the Colosseum feeds them. Feeds them meat, feeds them spectacle, throws the dead under their feet so the people may chew on this pain until nothing remains but bone dust.

It is also taste. The salty tang clinging to the lips. The bitterness of ash covering the stands. The weight of hundreds of breaths, mixed in a single frenzy. The spectacle is the food they consume, flesh and death their bread and wine. They chew these moments, grind destinies, stuff their mouths with another’s agony, not realizing they themselves become part of it.

Beside two elevated thrones, adorned with carvings, golden plates, and lions, stands a girl. Her long honey-golden hair falls over her shoulders, cascading down her back. The wind plays with it like silk ribbons. Her porcelain skin pales, and her green eyes, fixed on the arena—on the very place where her father’s lifeless body had recently lain—fill with tears once more.

She does not move. Only breathes. Raggedly, intermittently, like a fish thrown ashore. Her temples throb, her chest tightens. Dead air. This air is not for breathing; it is for drowning. It fills the lungs with heaviness, makes every movement sluggish, every thought viscous. It seeps inside, settles in the chest, grips the throat like an invisible hand. And no one will be saved. Because there is no fresh air in the Colosseum. Even the wind here smells of death.

General Acacius was a valiant warrior, a defender of Rome, a man whom the people loved and begged to be spared. The Romans pleaded for mercy. But the emperors pronounced their verdict, and the voice of the Gods, as Geta himself said, was inexorable.

"Only the Gods are given the right to decide fates," he whispered before his clenched fist rose into the air, and he lowered his thumb downward. Execute.

Now the people are furious. They shout, they murmur, their voices rumbling like thunder before a storm. But no one will leave. No one will abandon this theater of death. They will watch, even if their hearts tighten with horror. Even if someone clamps their mouth shut, suppressing vomit. They will not look away, because Rome craves spectacle, and blood is its greatest entertainment.

Emperor Geta only smiles. Narrowly, predatorily. Like a beast locked in a cage, who suddenly realized: the cage is not real. This whole crowd belongs to him. Their anger is laughable, their cries pathetic. They will growl, howl, screech, but in the end—they will bow. They always bow, as if he and his brother were Gods.

Lucilla is dead too.

Lucius, Lucilla’s son, perished in the darkness of night. He did not even have time to understand what was happening when the guards found him among the gladiator cages, dead with his throat slit, unarmed. The news reached Helena through her servant, Jnessa, and her heart collapsed at that moment, as if Death itself had whispered her name—within a few hours, the emperors summoned her to service.

Now Helena is alone. The last of those who once lived under the sky of old Rome. And now her life, like her father’s once, hangs by a thin thread, torn by the cruel hands of power.

And his voice, when he begins to speak, sounds as if Jupiter himself is speaking:

"People of Rome!" the emperor exclaims, raising his hands to the rising sun, and the crowd suddenly falls silent. "We hear your anger, your pain. We hear your cry for justice!"

And the crowd regains its noise—Geta only needs to pause for a moment. But he immediately raises his head again with confidence, his eyes gleaming—madness swirls in them, and something else—ancient, primal, as if he is either the conduit of a will or merely a madman allowed to rule by equally insane people.

"But is it not the Gods who are meant to decide the fate of mortals? Are we, mere mortals, able to argue with their will?!" he sweeps his gaze over the ranks of his people, and silence spreads through the Colosseum like dark wine in a silver cup. "General Acacius has fallen, and his blood has washed this land." Others do not hear the fleeting, barely perceptible click—a smirk. But Helena stands too close to ignore the sound. "But the general left us the most precious thing he had—his daughter! The Sun of our Rome!"

Geta pronounces this with relish. He savors the words like a sweet fig, crushing them with his tongue, filling the air with them. "The Sun"—he nearly purrs, like a cat that has caught a bird.

"You wanted blood? You shall have it," his voice rolls across the square. "You seek justice? You shall have it!"

Helena grows cold. Her fingers clench into fists, nails digging into her skin. She knows him. She knows his gaze, knows that crooked, cruel smile. Once, in childhood, he had taken her hand, leading her through the marble corridors of the palace. Back then, his touch was different.

Does he want to kill her? Worse.

"In the name of peace, so that the sacrifice is not in vain," Emperor Geta’s voice cuts through the air like the tip of a dagger, "I shall take the daughter of General Acacius as my lawful wife! In three weeks, at the sunset of the next month, she shall become—Augusta of Rome!"

The crowd gasps. Some begin to shout in fury, others murmur in confusion. The people sway like a great wave that is about to either crash upon the shore or retreat. The anger does not disappear—it transforms. It compresses into bewilderment, into heated debates, into a search for logic in this madness.

Geta slowly raises his hands. Let them see him. Let the sun cast its glow upon his reddish hair, let the purple of his toga, heavy and solemn, be remembered by all. Let this moment remain in their memory—the moment he bent the people of Rome to his will.

He smiles. Calmly. Slightly mockingly. But his eyes are wild, insane.

"I hear your anger," he says, and his voice is full of cold majesty. "Your hearts boil, for blood has been spilled!"

He steps forward, spreads his hands as if revealing the cosmos before them.

"Blood is pain. Blood is sacrifice. Blood is the price we pay for order! I do not deny my deed. But I will not allow the death of the great traitor-general to divide us! I will not allow his name to become mere ashes in the wind!"

Geta pauses, letting the crowd absorb his words. Then he speaks, each syllable echoing:

"For such is the law of fate: what is destroyed must be reunited. The blood of General Acacius’ daughter and mine shall merge into one. His spirit will live in my heirs. I do not reject him—I will make him a part of me, a part of Rome! And let the Sun of the Empire rise above us!"

And then the sound. One voice, foreign, elevated, yet commanding, like a hammer blow. The words flow, penetrate ears, sink into hearts. And then—the first movement. Someone’s fingers nervously clutch the edge of a toga, someone gasps for air, and then... an explosion. A wave of voices crashes over the Colosseum, a roar shatters the air like stones tumbling down a cliff.

A new empress. The daughter of the man whom Geta himself condemned to death.

Helena freezes, feeling her world crumble. And the guards suddenly push her forward, forcing her to step toward the emperor. The fabric of her long blue dress catches on her sandal, and she nearly falls.

Geta yanks her to him. He moves slowly, like a predator playing with its prey. There is something lazy, unhurried in his gait, but beneath it lies sharpness, cunning. He stretches this moment, prolongs it, like a spider savoring the agony of its victim. Geta drinks in the moment, absorbs her fear like wine that gives him strength.

He has already tasted her despair, and now he merely savors it.

Golden fire dances in his eyes. His lips are wet from wine, his breath warm, with a spicy bitterness. He smirks, allowing himself to examine her up close. He watches how tears glisten on her lashes, how her lips tremble. In this, there is power. His power.

The scent of his body is thick, rich. Frankincense, wine, honey, salt, skin—he smells like a feast, like a sacrifice to the gods. His fingers wrap around Helena’s waist, and she feels his strength—rough, insatiable. He holds her as if sinking his teeth into her, as if carving his name into her flesh.

His face is frighteningly close. His lips slide along her temple, hot breath scorching her skin. He grabs Helena tightly under the ribs, like an iron hoop, his fingers digging into her body, forcing her to freeze from the pain. She feels her bones almost crack under his grip.

"You're trembling, meus sol," (my sun) - his voice is low, hissing, like a snake slithering across the sand.

His eyes are burning. The black ring of his dilated pupils blurs the crimson color of his iris, eclipsing it, like night extinguishes day. He looks at Helena too intently, too hungrily — like someone who already considers something his own. Geta inhales the air near her face, as if testing it. And he gets drunk.

She is his. She will be his. Just like the sun belongs to the sky, like fire consumes wood, so Helena was created to burn only for him. For now — unreachable, like the morning light that slides over stones, not allowing itself to be caught. But soon… Soon he will tear her from the heavens and make her burn only for him.

His hand slides across her shoulder, feeling the fabric of the tunic, the crumpled cloth from the struggle that sticks to her body. The thin linen soaked with sweat, clinging to her skin, accentuating the shape of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Geta slowly traces his fingers across the folds.

"Are you afraid? Or angry?"

Helena’s breath catches, but he catches the sound. He catches her fear. He drinks it, savoring it, like sweet Falernian honey. He is used to fear. He has been fed by it since childhood. People fear him. Women fear him. But no one dares to run. Not even her.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she breathes out barely audible.

Helena jerks, but he tightens his grip, pulling her closer, so that there is no space left between their bodies. Beneath him — flesh, alive, alert. She breathes deeper, sensing his essence — meat, vanity, power, which has soaked him through like oil — wool. Geta feels her breath, not moving.

Her wrist is in his palm, and he raises her arm, like proclaiming victory. Her body no longer belongs to her. It belongs to his hands, his strength, his whim. Even the air she breathes seems heated by his breath. Geta holds her tightly, as if afraid she will fall apart under his fingers. Or maybe he wants to hear her crack.

"Glory to the Empire! Glory to Rome!" he exclaims. His hand, gripping Helena’s shoulder, slowly slides down to her thin wrist. The touch is hot, as if he just dipped his fingers in blood.

Cries explode through the air. Helena gasps, tears burning her eyes. Geta bends close to her ear, his breath brushing her skin.

The crowd roars her name, their filthy mouths desecrating his property. They reach out to her, longing to touch, to steal even a drop of her light. Their rotting teeth, sweaty fingers, their hoarse voices… Pitiful, insignificant worms daring to desire his sun! He will burn them from her memory, erase every one who dares to think she does not belong only to him.

Fingers sink into her skin. Her heart beats, but not in flight — in the painful realization that between disgust and something darker runs a thin, shiny, predatory thread.

His eyes glide over her face, tearing it apart with his gaze.

"Fool," he exhales. "You think you can just turn away?"

He touches her cheek with his lips, like a snake testing the air. Slowly, barely perceptibly. But enough for her to feel how repulsive his kiss is. Crimson petals swirl in the air, like drops of spilled blood. Thousands of them, tens of thousands — they fall from the upper tiers, settling on the stones, on the heads, on the shoulders of the gathered. Beneath their feet, they mix with the sand, and it feels like the entire arena is drowning in a crimson sea.

"Smile, my little bird, you are to bear the emperor's child," a warm, sticky whisper. "And remember, your whore of a mother is still alive."

Geta pulls back, but does not leave. He enjoys the moment. He wants to see how fear is born in Helena’s eyes, how it twists inside her, how she fights, resists, only to give in afterward. He wants that taste — the taste of victory, the taste of power, the taste of revenge on her.

Helena lifts her gaze, forces a smile, but her eyes speak otherwise. But from this distance, no one can tell what she's thinking.

Geta tightens his grip on her fingers. He presses the back of her hand to his lips, intertwining their fingers. His eyes — two dark abysses that want to consume her entirely. His fingers slide, feeling the protruding bones. Too fragile. Too brittle. But something about this pleases him. Isn't it beautiful, what can break?

The crowd roars. The Colosseum thirsts for blood once again.

Helena feels his nails digging into her wrist, leaving crescent-shaped marks of pain. He doesn't let go. Even when she tries to break free — he enjoys it. She feels it in how his breath trembles, how his fingers tighten, how he savors this fleeting resistance.

Geta lowers his gaze to her neck. The skin is pale, tender, taut with tension. Already, the marks of his touch are visible. He slowly traces his finger along the line of her shoulder blades, wrapping his hand around her neck from behind. He feels how quickly her heart beats, how it pounds beneath his hand. His lips slowly curl into a grin.

And over this chaos, over the screams and roars, dawn continues to scatter its brilliance. The sun rises higher, its honeyed rays glide over the ancient stones, penetrating every crack, spreading gold over the blue folds. The wind stirs the thin fabric, as if trying to rip it off and carry it away, away from this prison. But is there a glimmer of hope in this light? Or is it just an illusion — a lie before another fall into darkness?

Part1! Part2! Part3! Part4...

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

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[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VI: Storms 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond’s wife left him following an explosive fight last week, and he hasn’t been able to find rest since.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, depictions of a toxic relationship, possessive Aemond, shitty and useless coping mechanisms, reference to violence and injuries

Word count: 2300

A/N: Thank you always sweet sweet Justine (@theoneeyedprince) for looking this over and giving me ideas 🤭 ILY! The lyrics are interwoven with the story in this chapter, hope it makes sense! As you can tell, this is set a week after his wife left him, and before he wrote his new songs for Rumours…

‘Every night that goes between, I feel a little less’

8 hours and 25 minutes.

That’s how much sleep he’d gotten in the last week.

Since the fight.

Fights. Plural.

It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into a physical altercation with his brother. His childhood memories are tainted by endless disputes, especially after their father died, back when Aegon would sneak out to get drunk while their mother worried sick at home.

Why was his brother seemingly incapable of behaving well? Aemond saw how his mother worried herself sick over her oldest son, while also having to deal with grieving the loss of her husband, and navigate the internal political turmoil the death of such an influential man left behind. And Aegon couldn’t even spare her further heartache.

Fucking pathetic excuse of a man.

It was, however, the first time he had hurt his wife. Physically, that is. She’d told him he’d hurt her before, when his jealousy got the best of him.

He knows he’s crossed a line. As soon as he lost his temper and threw that plate against the wall. Dangerously close to where she was standing.

He regrets it all. Why did it even have to happen in the first place? If she had just cooperated with him; worked with him instead of against him. Instead of hiding things from him, talking with Tyland behind his back.

He always knew that she’d leave. One day.

He’d never leave her.

Frustrated, Aemond lets out a quiet sigh and gets up from the bed, moving to sit on the edge, slouching as he places his head in his hands. He suddenly notices how quiet the room is; the loud thoughts echoing in his mind momentarily disappear as he ponders what he could do instead of sleeping.

He moves quietly to not wake Alys next to him, whose heavy breathing provides the only real sounds in the room. It is almost eerily quiet now that he thinks about it; such a stark contrast to the insufferable buzzing of thoughts roaming around in his head.

Rest doesn’t come to him anymore. 

His mind can’t provide him with any repose. Not even for a second.

He closes the door to the bedroom with a quiet ‘click’ and exits, moving towards the balcony connected to the large, open-plan living room.

She had picked this apartment, together with him.

Our home.

The memories of going to look at cabinets for the kitchen together, choosing a sofa together, fucking on said sofa, overtake his mind before he can distract himself.

‘As you slowly go away from me’

When he realised that she’d left and wouldn’t come back, he tried to erase her from the space, shoving all of her belongings into one of the wardrobes in the spare bedroom.

He couldn’t bear to throw them out. He couldn’t bear to see them either. She’d left behind everything he’d ever given her; all gifts he’d carefully picked out for her. Seeing her wedding ring on top of the kitchen island, next to the divorce papers and the shattered plate on the floor had made his stomach turn when he came home from the hospital.

‘This is only another test’

He’d suffered much harsher trials than this.

When he lost his eye in a car crash at only 10 years old, he suffered through the most excruciating pain of his life. He had to relearn everything; how to focus his gaze, how to read and write without developing a headache, how to play his favourite sports without running into his opponents. 

He’d managed all that, yet this time he felt consumed by an aching sense of dread.

A hopelessness deep in his chest.

‘Every night you do not come’

It was all too late. No turning back.

‘Your softness fades away’

He knows that the aching dread is the longing he feels for her. The thought of never touching her again, never being close to her again. 

Never being in her embrace again.

He feels a chill run through his body as he settles on the armchair placed by the wall, overlooking the bright lights of King’s Landing.

Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nearby table, he takes one out and lights it before taking a long drag, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to rest against the back of the chair.

She’d chosen the patio furniture as well.

He fucking resents himself in this moment. Why is his body, his mind, incapable of doing what he wants? Forget her. She sure as hell wants to forget him.

‘Did I ever really care that much’

‘Is there anything left to say’

When she left during the fight backstage last week, he had wanted to run after her. But then he threw one quick glance at his older brother, and could barely see his expression due to all the blood smeared over his face.

He called out to him, but Aegon didn’t answer, laying limply on the old leather sofa with one arm hanging from the side and his mouth open. That was when Jace had come back in, face turning white in an instance as he was confronted with the scene before him, pulling out his phone from his pocket with a shaky hand to call an ambulance.

Aemond went with his brother to hospital, waiting by his side until he regained consciousness while trying to calm his distressed mother and wide-eyed sister. They had looked at him in the same way she had; eyes filled with animosity. He could barely meet their gazes as shame left his cheeks scalding.

‘Every hour of fear I spend’

‘My body tries to cry’

All he could think of at that moment was coming home. Home to her. To her warmth.

‘Living through each empty night’

‘A deadly call inside’

He takes another drag of his cigarette. Not being able to sleep, to eat, to think clearly is so foreign to him. It’s like when he lost his eye; he has to relearn everything. How to fucking breath.

There’s this restlessness inside him that won’t disappear, no matter how hard he tries to exorcise it. He’d tried going for walks; his usual go-to when he needed to clear his mind.

On one of those walks he’d smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.

How much time had passed? How long had he been out? He could hardly remember where he’d gone, what he’d seen or what time of day it’d been.

He’s lucky to have grown up in the centre of King’s Landing, knowing every street by heart, intuition leading his steps as he eventually finds his way back home. To an empty flat, haunted only by the memory of her.

She haunts him worst internally though, through his own mind.

There, in the eye of his mind, he sees his greatest fear; her with another man.

Any time he closes his eyes, the same image greets him; her, naked in the arms of another, throwing her head back in bliss.

She sighs and moans, letting her new man know how good he’s making her feel. She tells him too; that he’s the best she’s ever had.

She runs her hand down his cheek, unmarred and smooth. No harshly red scar, no unpleasant raised skin. Someone pretty, like her.

‘I haven’t felt this way I feel’

‘Since many a years ago’

He tried drinking; Aegon’s lobotomy of choice.

After downing two bottles of the Dornish red he’d received from some business associate when he was still working with his grandfather, he found sleep for 1 hour and 12 minutes before waking up with a racing heart and body covered in a slick sheet of cold sweat.

He would have tried talking to someone, if the only person he wanted to speak to hadn’t blocked his number. He’d realised that after being connected directly to voicemail each time he called her. That didn’t stop him from leaving messages though. First, they were filled with apologies and promises of never losing his cool again, of being better for her, of reassurance that he loves her. But as he grew to understand that she wouldn’t come back, his frustrations got the best of him.

He called her just to scream at her, into the nothingness that was her disconnected voicemail.

“I always knew you’d leave me! You fucking liar”, he spat as he threw his phone against the same wall he’d smashed the plate against.

It doesn’t matter. She’ll never hear them anyway.

The tiny bit of relief he felt afterwards hadn’t made any significant difference. He still couldn’t sleep, couldn’t find even a moment of tranquillity.

He places the cigarette between his teeth as he reaches forward to grab the notebook on the patio table next to his seat.

There’s one thing he still hasn’t tried.

As he plucks the pencil from where it's hanging on the side of the hardcover, he begins writing without thinking too much of what’s coming out, letting his hand guide his thoughts as he brings his plagued mind down on the paper.

‘In those years and the lifetimes past’

‘I did not deal with you, I know’

‘Though the love has always been’

His most recent attempt at finding respite from his mind was sleeping in his bed.

Our bed, he corrects himself with a wince.

He’d met Alys Rivers, manager at Riverland Creative Agency, earlier that day when he stopped for a drink during his quotidian nightly walk. She recognised him instantly, swiftly approaching him to mask her true intentions with some saccharine small talk. He knew she wanted to inquire about his band’s management; if they were satisfied with Tyland or if they’d be persuaded into joining her instead.

But all he could focus on was her hand casually placed on his shoulder as she spoke, her large, green eyes locking with his as she playfully teased him about his stoicism.

The heat radiating from her palm alone lit a fire inside of him, but rather than lust, he felt something akin to longing.

Yearning.

For warmth.

He asked her if she’d like to have a drink at his house, and when she replied with a wink and a cheeky retort, he knew she’d give him what he craved.

‘So I search to find an answer there’

‘So I can truly win’

Alys didn’t feel like her. Didn’t set the fire within him ablaze. Nor did she extinguish it. He didn’t feel better; he felt the same.

Restless.

Uneasy.

Different.

Broken.

‘Every hour of fear I spend’

‘My body tries to cry’

‘Living through each empty night’

‘A deadly call inside’

His hand moves on its own accord, words pouring out from him without having a chance to pass through his consciousness.

‘So I try to say goodbye, my friend’

‘I’d like to leave you with something warm’

Maybe he never gave her comfort?

Maybe all he did was take?

No. He knows he’s been a dutiful husband. He’s always been by her side, supporting her no matter what.

Unlike his own father; a shitty husband who was more of a burden on his mother’s shoulders than a pillar to lean on. Aemond knows that he’s nothing like his father. He gave his marriage his all; he never neglected his wife. 

He gave her all of him.

‘But never have I been a blue calm sea’

‘I’ve always been a storm’

But she didn’t want his love. She didn’t appreciate all he’d done for her. She didn’t understand him, not really. If she did, she wouldn’t shut him out like this.

Fuck her selfishness.

When he left his grandfather's firm to pursue music full-time, Otto Hightower had threatened to disown him, telling him that he’d make sure all ties Aemond had to the Hightower name would be cut off.

All he knew was how to be a good son and grandson. How to please his grandfather and mother. But when he confided in her about his predicament, asking her for advice on how to handle his grandfather's wrath, she’d cupped his cheeks and gazed into his eyes as she reassured,

“I am your family now, Aemond. We’ll always have each other” 

Liar.

He feels bile rise in the back of his throat as he keeps writing, allowing the feelings he didn’t know how to express some outlet. The thought of her now makes him feel sick.

‘Always been a storm’

‘We were frail’

He feels stupid; blinded by the light of her love.

‘She said, “Every night he will break your heart”’

‘I should have known from the first, I’d be the broken hearted’

Being given such warmth from another person. That’s what made him addicted to her.

He’d never experienced that before, not even from his mother or sister. There was always this restraint; this rift between them, for as long as he could remember.

But she let him in with open arms; let him into her comfort without resistance.

And now she’d taken that away from him.

‘I loved you from the start’

Looking at the lyrics written down in front of him, he doesn’t feel better. His shoulders don’t feel lighter. His chest doesn’t feel less tight. All he knows is that she did this. She promised to be by his side forever and broke that vow.

He leans back in the chair, fiddling with his lighter in one hand as he reads over the text again. What would she say if she saw how much she hurt him?

Would she come back?

The fleeting thought makes a tight knot form in his throat and he swallows forcefully to make it go away.

She’ll never come back.

He picks up the paper, letting the fire from the lighter in his other hand grace over the bottom corner, and sets it alight.

A/N: No, this is not a song form Rumours 🤭 but technically he doesn’t record it, so I think it’s fair! Tysm for reading 🩵

[suguru-getos]

-> happy birthday toru 💗

this is mostly a very personal concept to me but i just love the idea of this. happy birthday to the loml satoru <3 and to @literallythestrongestever my angel my baby 🥹🥹

this drabble contains violence, and abuse, and a lot of healing and comfort after. it takes you through a journey of the reader accidentally switching and shifting in realities from her toxic, abusive and psychotic husband gojo to the one she lives in currently.

the squelching sound of a stabbing wound, how it feels as if you were witnessing it first hand. as if you were in the depths of hell. a man you don’t know, gutted you. the pain— why isn’t it paining— is she already dead? why isn’t the ache registering into the marrow of her bones, the essence of her soul.

no— wait! it’s satoru— he looks different, wait— where is she again? the scenaries change faster than her mind can process. overwhelmed, brain begging for mercy. satoru— yes, her husband— yes— gojo satoru— why are there so many lights— focus, she needs to focus. it feels like death, it feels like drowning in an endless dark trench of nothing. a black hole sucking her life, scraping her marrow with a spoon as she watches from outside.

sounds— spoons tinkling, smell— the smell of kikufuku, the sound of nails against a board. make it stop— satoru?

satoru…

satoru gojo…

yes, yes, he will… he will ground her. he has to, he said he will. he’s going to no matter what. yes, she should-

satoru is sitting next to her, watching her keen eyed as she wakes up from a long, disturbing, forced slumber of mind amputation. humans shouldn’t be forced to the infinite void. he knows that. but she — she’s so fierce & she’s so strong she doesn’t bend to his will. and sometimes it’s better she just shuts up. for good… not with death though, he can’t see her die. he can’t see her live either…

there is a sickening guilt that eats away at his thumping heart, when her eyes meet his, the life beneath them needs searching. buried deep. and his icy blue eyes hate the sight. he hates what she makes him… “i am so sorry, babycakes… i didn’t mean to get mad.”

when people get mad, they yell, they scream, they— depict in ways which are human. how is an honoured one supposed to depict he’s angry, disappointed…. the consequences wouldn’t be so humanly either. she wonders why are there consequences even? isn’t love all about acceptance? isn’t that why she married him…

the next thing she remembers is something that makes her scream in agony, vocal chords strained from the trauma of it all. satoru couldn’t let her get away with trying to escape now. no one could help her. especially when he has ao, aka, kyoshki murasaki at disposal. or maybe he just needs to hold her tighter, watch the audacity crumble right with her bones. fragile & weak, human, delicate….

his eyes, always expressive, show no signs of remorse, or relent. “what? can’t face the consequences after what you do?” why does she dare to run— and challenge— and go against him, the god? gods don’t punish with a slap across the cheek now do they?

she knew, whatever their souls were made of, satoru’s soul didn’t belong to her. “i would be gouging your eye out, an eye for an eye. hmm? don’t you think it’s fitting since you want to hurt me by wanting to die?” the scene shifts, that’s all her life has become. a series of scenes… of shifts��� until one day, she did choose death. chose to beat the hollow purple and the infinite void and everything else that comes with it if she were to escape.

watching the blood drain out of her body, with such an eager desperation & passion to lose herself. the sense of what made her alive. the heart. the stupid heart that fell for satoru gojo.

it felt like the sweetest slumber, the one that lulls you into silence when you sip on a little sangria, or when you eat something sweet. or when you live in a world without worries.

only… when she woke up, something had changed. she was in a different room. shit—

“hey- fuck she’s awake!” her heart sinks, the melted honey like voice was much too familar. she glanced over the man, who was grinning ear to ear. the deep, rubble akin chuckle escapes from his parted, beautiful lips. “champion really!”

satoru hates that this girl he doesn’t even know, but saved from a curse — looks so akin to wilted petals…. meanwhile, she doesn’t know where she is, this reality feels different, something intangible about it. to him, she looks around. pursing her lips, eyeing satoru’s fingers for the familiar marriage band, eyeing hers… she doesn’t have it either.

“my name is gojo satoru.” he spoke again, watching her flinch. yes, yes, she knows. she has brandings of satoru in several forms in her body, in her psyche. “i am… y/n.” she mumbles, she doesn’t know if this is just a plot by satoru to pretend that nothing happened.

“are you married?” the next question takes the man off guard. there was no sense of anticipation behind those eyes— just, dread. “jeez i know i’m pretty!” he giggled, headpatting her gently. “nope, single as a pringle. but don’t worry, we could go on a date once you get better pretty girl.” that was smooth, very unlike her satoru… there was no pressure she felt.

maybe she was choosing a familiar hell than an unfamiliar heaven all over again. maybe she’s dying and these are the last few memories in her head. her eyes are heavy again, this time satoru holds her hand. the touch so different, it’s satoru… but it’s different. “sshh~ it’s okay, go to sleep.” his voice balms.

and she’s awake again… definitely not dead… “i don’t know why i’m keeping a watch over you honestly.” he hums, the eyebags visible from strain. he doesn’t look like he has slept in days. “but i want to.” he expresses. and like it was second nature to her, a fool’s nature— the nature of a broken heart of being the more loving one, the words just come out in a silent plea. a desperate attempt of an abused child to apologize hoping there wouldn’t be any consequences. “sorry— m’ just a bother— toru.”

satoru has never heard anyone call him toru. the gentle tone, the submissive venom he wants to suck out of that. “hey— i’m not complaining.” he pouts, looking at her, easing into her frantics by a smile. “besides you’re just so pretty i couldn’t keep these eyes off ya!” he doesn’t know why he’s behaving like this, women… don’t really mean much to him. he has a job, a busy schedule. he doesn’t understand how this woman he found during a mission, enclosed in a curse’s womb, is making everything stagnant.

she blinks at him like a nervous cat this time, until her tummy decides to roar and make hungry noises. the holds onto it, pouting softly, a tender flush spreading across her cheeks like butter on warm toast. “heh, s’ okay little one. what would you want to eat mhm?” satoru asks, noting that her brain didn’t have the capacity to think. maybe being enclosed in a curse does that to you. “i think.” he clicks his fingers, “you’d loveee a nice nutritious sandwich.” he croons, leaning in. again, not missing the flinch.

he is quick to lean back, the flinching hurts. it hurts like his person was harmed. it hurts like he trusted his pet with someone and found them injured later. it hurts like battery acid in his throat. “yeah?” he smiles again, just wanting her to say something.

tears sprawl across her cheeks. “m’ sorry satoru. please don’t be mad.” she says it with such conviction & confidence that satoru is mad. he isn’t. he would never be… she says it like she knows him. “hey— sweetheart, what’s your name?” he knows it’s too much, too soon— but his hands feel like they’re corroding in acid and she’s the only thing that could stop it. he has to cup her cheeks softly, “i’m not mad at you, why’d i be mad at you?”

she doesn’t answer, heart racing, a bead of sweat forming at her forehead. “satoru please-“ she wants him to stop playing with her. lips wobbling at the grief, the fear and the crumbling anxiety rising with every moment. she leans in, like a toddler hugging their caregiver if they’re caught doing something naughty to escape the consequences. clutching at satoru, bawling, again — akin to a toddler. “please toru— didn’t think- much— please it wouldn’t happen again i’m sorry—“

satoru doesn’t understand anything, and also understands something. “do you know me?” he asks, voice low, calm, careful. strong arms caging her in a tight, yet kind hug. delicate…. she’s so… fragile and delicate, like a precious ornament.

“i don’t know what’s happening—“ she exclaims, tears irritating those beautiful eyes. reddening up. “it’s okay—“ satoru coaxes again, gently rubbing her back. “you’re okay, i’m not mad at you. i would never be mad at you.”

“….i promise y/n.” that is such a big promise to keep if he wants to actually see his entire life with her. something he just decides on immediately. no questions, or doubts… or discrepancies… he knows he would keep his promise. “even if you do hurt me, i wouldn’t be mad at you.” he says it with the matching conviction of her beliefs of satoru’s rage. it calms her down. and satoru has never felt happier. he has never felt this exhilarated…. not even when he won over special grades.

one thing about satoru gojo, he always walks the talk. he means it with the heart. even when he said he would keep her happy, even when he hugs her through nights she can’t sleep, even when she repeats endlessly about what happened to her, with her. with an alienic version of him from a different reality, even when she rejects him & he lets her exist while still flooding her life with unbounding love. even when he confessed about wanting to marry her, and wanting to love her to excruciating happiness.

what’s a man ready to move mountains against trauma? an unstoppable force.

“s’ less sweet!” her five year old daughter makes a face. she is the perfect dna copy of her father. gorgeous blue eyes, silky white hair. the same gentleness with the way she treats her mommy. it’s all learnt from daddy after all.

“oh honey is it?” she tastes the cake batter, shuddering. both her daughter and her now husband have such a sweet tooth. “daddy’s birthday needs to have sweeter cakes uh nu!” she chuckles, kissing her forehead and adding a generous amount of sugar. “daddy’s gonna be so happy mama!” she gleams again, at her mother. who was nodding happily, just remembering what life used to be and what life is, now.

she married satoru again, although this time it didn’t come with insanity and violence. satoru was patient, didn’t touch her for two years, just sweet lovesick kisses and nothing else. she knew he yearned but the smile on his face would almost make her think he’s happy with just what he gets…

her phone buzzes with a call, immediately rushing and picking it up. “toru!” the gleam of her voice and the intensity of her is back.

“princess!” he whines over the phone, “i miss you soooo much oh my god—“ he hums, chuckling when she giggles, “you are just out to get candies, not even five minutes are gone—“

“i missed you!” satoru repeats again, “take me seriously i am dying here!”

“happy birthday toru, come home so i could kiss you, then you’d decide if the candy’s sweeter or the cake.”

the moments these words parted from her throat, she feels a familiar gust of wind, satoru is impatient and would teleport sportingly over shorter distances. “mm~ my lady, m’ here for the kiss.”

his hand wraps around her waist, locking her body against his. delicate… his fragile little princess. she gets on her tippy toes, brushing her lips against his with a hum, whispering gratefully. “happy birthday toru.”

“thank you, my present.”

a familiar tiny foot stomping is heard, “where’s my kissies?” their daughter tugs at daddy’s pants. satoru picks her up as if she weighs nothing, (she does not) and peppers her entire face with kisses. the sound of child like giggles fill the room, followed by the soothing aroma of baking satoru’s favorite cake.

satoru.

satoru gojo.

yes, yes, he did… he did ground her. he had to, he said he will & he did it! he’s going to no matter what. yes, she should— she should just live now. she doesn’t need to survive anymore. <3

[xomakara]

The Price of Loyalty

SUMMARY |  You lead a double life as an executive at the Lee Group and a Butterfly Syndicate member who must infiltrate the Brotherhood of Ateez as a stripper. As feelings for Yunho and Jongho developes, and your father's truth emerges, will you remain loyal to the Butterfly Syndicate or choose a different path?

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader x Jongho

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  smut, angst, drama, Mafia AU, mafiamember!Yunho, mafiamember!Jongho, enemies to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS | mentions of violence/death (as goes all mafia au fics), drinking, mentions of smoking, mafia hits, betrayal, undercover agent, threesome, profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (both receiving/giving), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal and anal penetration

LENGTH | 13,009 words

TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin @yoonguurt

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Soooooooo… I'm trying something new lol. I'm starting a Mafiateez series and this is the first fic in the series! The other fics in the series will have the other members as main characters and each fic will tie together. The last fic will be the conclusion of the whole drama I have unfolding in my head.

Join the taglist here to be notified when I release the other fics of the series. Please be aware that this is Mature/18+ series. MDNI or you will be blocked (I will be checking)

Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this! I'm glad you're invested and can't wait to read the rest of the series as they come out haha. And thank you @hobeemin for the lovely banner and the divider. As always, you never disappoint me! Please like, comment, reblog. I love you all 💚

Mafiateez series masterlist here

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

“Byeol,” one of the girls called out as she peeked her head from the door of the dressing room. “Your regulars are here.”

At the sound of your stage name being called out, you looked up from your phone. “Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.”

The girl nodded her head, slamming the door behind her. You sighed, looking back down at your phone and typing out a reply before placing it in your purse. You stood up, checked your hair one last time in the mirror, and walked out of the room and towards the booth where your regulars waited for you every Friday night.

You waved at them when they glanced in your direction, giving them a flirty smile, and they both smirked, a smirk that told you this was going to be another good night for tips. You strutted towards them, watching how the regulars’ gazes followed your movements.

“Hello boys,” you greeted them once you had walked up to their booth. “I missed you both.”

Yunho let out a small laugh as Jongho shook his head, rolling his eyes at how silly you were being. The two of them have been a staple at the club for quite some time now and have been your major clients for about a year now. They came every Friday and it was guaranteed that they’d request your company.

“Sit with us, Byeol,” Yunho said.

You climbed onto the long seat, seating yourself between the two. When Jongho offered his hand, you placed yours in it, as he brushed his lips against the back of your knuckles. Yunho grasped your chin and pulled your face closer, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. It was nothing unusual, so you let it happen. They have paid for you for the entire night and that meant there were certain liberties they could take, certain acts they could do without any type of repercussions since they were part of the Brotherhood.

You were their favorite because you knew what they liked, what their fantasies were, and didn’t shy away from fulfilling their needs. Their desires.

You were no stranger to playing the part, but these guys... most of the girls steered clear away from them since they were members of the Brotherhood of Ateez, an elitist criminal group that controlled much of the underground and ruled with a harsh hand. Not to mention that they both possessed an intimidating air about them—something that only you seemed to ignore. You weren’t scared of anything that they had told you or could offer, and they found themselves strangely infatuated with you.

But they didn’t know that you ran the same circles.

With you, it was all part of an act. A carefully constructed narrative, a fake performance.

The owner of the strip club happened to be a powerful member of the Butterfly Syndicate, the Black Butterfly, your boss. She had placed you in the club once she found out that members of the Brotherhood of Shadows spent many a Friday and Saturday nights there, just to have a taste of some of the finest women their money could buy. And when she found out that Yunho and Jongho, two of the top members of the Brotherhood, had specifically taken a liking to you... she knew that you were the right girl for this job.

Get to know them. Get close to them, the boss had instructed you before she sent you on your way. Find out their secrets. Learn as much as you could, then bring that information to her. The boss’ ultimate plan was to end the Brotherhood’s hold over the underground. To weaken them through their leader—and get him to where the boss would swoop in to claim everything they had and possibly add it to her growing empire.

It had been almost a year since you had been tasked with the assignment. Over six months of careful flirting and flattering. And each week, you gained some sort of small tidbit that you would share with the boss, passing the info on to her. As one of the top tier members of your own syndicate, you reported directly to her, giving her the best details and intel whenever you were around the members of the Brotherhood. You tried to stay focused and give the family what it needed and nothing else—especially since you had an assignment to complete.

But still... the late nights had begun to get to you. You couldn’t stop the way your body had started to react whenever you were around them, nor how your heart skipped beats whenever Jongho brushed the pads of his fingers along the base of your spine or the way Yunho looked at you, almost like he wanted to devour you—which you could admit to yourself was a turn on.

But these men didn’t know anything about your life outside the club. Outside the realm of what they assumed was a stripper named Byeol, trying to earn some extra tips on the weekend by entertaining a couple of rich, dark, handsome men. Nothing deeper than that. No clues of the dangerous girl you really were.

A member of the rival crime family who operated out in the northern parts of the city—the main enemy of the Brotherhood, which was founded in the heart of the metropolis. The two groups didn’t mix and if Yunho and Jongho were to find out exactly who you were, it would be disastrous.

For everyone.

But at that moment, you decided not to think about anything except pleasing these two men. If you were to focus on the bigger picture, you may lose sight of what your actual job was supposed to be. Gathering intelligence and collecting info about the leader of the Brotherhood so they could use that information in a strategic takeover of the entire operation. You were ordered not to show your vicious side unless the situation really called for it. So, for now, you would just let yourself enjoy this night with them.

Because, for better or for worse, you had also grown fond of them. The lines had started to blur after a while—or had started to get so faded that you weren’t sure you could easily tell where they were anymore.

You broke the kiss and looked over at Jongho as you let him cup your cheek, brushing his thumb along the smooth surface as his dark brown eyes scanned your face. The deep rumble of laughter coming from Yunho shook you from the trance and your gaze jumped to his face. He lifted the glass in front of him and pressed it to your lips, gesturing for you to take a sip from his drink. You obliged.

The alcohol was bitter as it travelled down your throat, burning the entire way through, and you made a small face in response. Jongho chuckled quietly, tracing his thumb along the shell of your ear before taking hold of your hand again and planting kisses along each knuckle.

“You really missed us, Byeol?” He asked, his breath hot as it washed over the inside of your wrist.

“Of course I did,” you responded sweetly. “Missed your touches.”

You cuddled up against him, your hand brushing along his abdomen, slipping up underneath his shirt. You placed your lips close to his ear. “Missed seeing your cock and having my pussy stuffed full with it.”

“F-Fuck,” he gasped, turning his head in your direction, attempting to press his lips to yours.

You moved your head back slightly, giving him a seductive smirk, knowing that he loved it when you gave him a hard time. When you teased him a bit. Then you placed a chaste kiss on his pouty lips. You shifted away from him, standing up and swinging your hips as you walked over to the small table of beverages the servers always left for the booths. Pouring a glass full of amber liquid and shooting a glance at him over your shoulder. He smirked at you.

Sitting back down, you pressed the glass of liquid to his lips, and Jongho drank the beverage while keeping his stare locked on you. When he finished the drink, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and set it off to the side. You giggled as you placed a quick kiss on his forehead and another on the corner of his mouth before turning your attention to Yunho and getting into his lap, straddling him.

Your dress rode up your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist and leaned back.

“Hi, Yunho,” you whispered as he threaded his fingers into the thick strands of your hair.

“Byeol,” he uttered quietly as he leaned his head forward. He pressed soft kisses along your collarbone, the light touches making your body heat up and tingle. He nipped at the soft skin and a quiet gasp fell from your lips. “I hope you didn’t have anyone else planned for the rest of tonight.”

Shaking your head, you ran a hand through your hair. “Just you two.”

He chuckled, pulling your hips towards him as he slid down in the seat. “Perfect.”

“Should we go now?” you suggested, smirking at him. You stretched your arms over your head, knowing full well how the curve of your breasts showed in this position. “Maybe get a room somewhere...” you trailed off as his fingers ran up the sides of your legs, “or not.”

Yunho smiled and leaned over, placing a brief kiss on your lips. “Don’t get impatient. We still have the entire night, remember? And I definitely intend on making the most of our time together.”

“Plus, we know you’re used to long, difficult nights, Byeol,” Jongho teased as he pressed up against you. “We wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and you chuckled lightly.

“I can assure you,” you paused, pushing your lower body closer to his crotch, “that neither one of you can wear me out. But we should go. It would be much more fun... if we had some... privacy.”

You accentuated that last part by running your palm against the hardened outline of Yunho’s cock.

He inhaled sharply, groaning loudly before shoving a palm in his face and tilting his head backwards. Jongho bursted out into laughter beside you. You were now biting your bottom lip to contain your smile. Yunho slowly lifted his head back up. “What are we waiting for, Byeol? Jongho, make the payment so we can get the fuck out of here and finally have you all to ourselves.”

“Go get dressed and grab your stuff, Byeol,” he ordered while pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips. You slid off his lap and exited the private booth area. The two men watched your retreating form with mischievous glances.

When you were far enough away from them and back in the dressing room, you whipped out your phone from your bag. Pressing a button, you brought the phone to your ear.

“Who are you calling, Y/N?” one girl that worked with you asked.

“Just my sister,” you said as the call went through. “Hey unnie, I’m gonna have a busy night, so I probably won’t make it home for a couple hours. Don’t wait for me.”

You made a show of biting down onto your lip and shaking your head as your “older sister” spoke to you. After watching the girl leave so that she could give you some privacy, you immediately let the mask that you had displayed for the outside fall and a scowl settled on your face.

“The usual tonight. I’ll report in more detail when I’m done with them,” you whispered. The other person on the other end of the line let out a laugh and spoke one last thing. You nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

With that, the call disconnected.

Getting dressed in casual clothes, you slung your bag onto your back and rushed out of the room. The boys were outside, waiting next to the door for you. Jongho tossed his arm around your shoulders and led you through the doors and towards his car. Yunho’s hand landed low on your back, almost grabbing at the swell of your ass as he got into the vehicle as well.

It took about fifteen minutes for the guys to arrive at the hotel they typically stayed in. They usually rented one of the penthouse suites at the building located downtown, a luxurious five star establishment. However, that didn’t stop you from noting how each guy slipped a small weapon onto their person before they climbed out of the car. The men would tell you it was for their own protection, but the reality of the matter was that they had a constant target painted on their backs. With the constant threat of attack hanging over their heads, there were several assassination attempts made on their lives. You would have been ordered to end their existence and to strike them down, but you had the other assignment from the boss. You wouldn’t fail her.

The night would likely end as the nights with them previously had. With the three of you spread across the large king-size mattress in a sweaty, heaping tangle of limbs, the both of them spilling their cum inside and all over your tight, warm pussy. Or your swollen lips wrapped around the length of Yunho’s hard member until he was gasping for release, pouring his cum straight down the back of your throat as Jongho fucked you from behind. They’d do the same to you, having you come so much your thighs would shake. Their names fall out from your lips with the mantra of the filthiest curses and other words.

It wouldn’t be the first time you woke up feeling absolutely sore in the best way. And as they carried you out of their hotel room, leaving some wads of cash sitting on a table, they would certainly pay for all of those indulgent pleasures once again.

“So?”

You stood rigidly in front of your boss, hands clasped behind you as you kept your attention straight ahead. Your boss, the Black Butterfly, didn’t look like a ruthless crime lord that ran her empire out from underneath the radar. To everyone that looked upon her, she seemed to be a very caring and gracious young lady—almost the complete opposite of who she truly was. However, it was for those exact reasons why she was so successful. The double life allowed her to slip beneath people’s radars—especially from the police. She was one of the city’s most powerful figures and you admired and respected the hell out of her for that fact alone.

“Apart from your usual debauchery,” she said as she let out an airy laugh, “what did those idiots reveal to you this week?”

“Most of it was small talk. Just catching up and normal pillow talk. Talking about the usual places, some events they had to attend.” You crossed your arms over your chest, brow furrowing at the frustration that threatened to rear its head. “But there was something of interest.”

“Yes?” The Black Butterfly folded her hands together and tilted her head. She encouraged you to continue.

“Some sort of code about business they had in Japan,” you shared as you paced back and forth. “Didn’t catch the whole thing, but it has something to do with shipments being rerouted. Whatever these shipments are, they’re something extremely important.”

“Find out more.” Your boss chewed her bottom lip, her nose scrunched up slightly. “If they are planning on switching routes, we need to intercept those shipments. Just make sure you find out as much information as you can. I don’t care if you have to fuck them dry, but get that info.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you acknowledged. You spun on your heel, making to exit the room.

“Y/N,” she said, a playful smirk on her face. She rested an elbow on the desk.

“Yes?” you asked.

“You must admit. They aren’t bad looking,” she pointed out. “Kind of funny, the irony. You fucking your sworn enemies and they don’t even know it.”

Shrugging, you laughed a little. “Their cocks aren’t the worst things in the world. Doesn’t hurt to have some fun on the job.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in your boss’ eyes. “As long as the fun doesn’t distract you.”

“It never does,” you said firmly. 

“And Y/N? Make sure your corporation is taken well care of,” she added on as an afterthought. Her tone was harsh and held a clear warning for you. “No mistakes, nothing suspicious. Don’t make the same mistake as your father.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” You kept your tone even, with no indication of any faltering. As a family of high-profile criminals, nothing could be traced back to your real identity, no connections or loose ends left unchecked. “No suspicions will arise. That I promise you.”

She smiled as you walked away. You quickly stepped through a door and were immediately greeted by a rush of chilly air as it blasted into the office building, making your bare arms erupt with goosebumps. As you rounded the corner, you saw a figure leaning against the brick wall. The only other occupant outside this late in the evening was smoking a cigarette, the red tip lit up as the man breathed in.

You turned on your heel, grabbing the metal railing and descending the cement stairs and ignoring the eyes that watched you walk away from him. The sounds of your heels clicking against the surface grew quieter the further you moved away and eventually became muffled, almost becoming engulfed in the noise from the city streets surrounding the office complex.

“Another successful night?” The man asked, walking alongside you as you strode down the alleyway. You both knew the path to the car like the back of your hand; your route was so ingrained into your brains, it almost came as natural as the blood coursing through your veins.

“Not any different from usual,” you replied.

“I bet,” he joked, snickering to himself. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

You raised your arm and gave your twin brother the middle finger. “Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno laughed louder, his head thrown back, shaking it lightly. He held a hand over his chest as he bent forward. “I can’t worry about my twin sister? Especially since you didn’t come back to the apartment until a few hours ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you made a left and headed further into the streets where you had parked. Your brother caught up to you, throwing his arm around you. The scent of the smoke clinging to him invaded your nose.

“Seriously, Y/N,” he said.

“I said,” you stopped in your tracks and looked at him, “it’s fine. There’s nothing you need to worry about. Trust me. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Plus, you know I can’t disobey direct orders.”

Jeno raised a brow. “It’s only because I respect that woman and what she has accomplished that I don’t say some shit about her and your current assignments. Because we both know the amount of time you spend between Yunho and Jongho’s legs, you’re bound to fall in love with one of them, and you know we can’t have that.”

“You don’t think I know that, Jeno?” You asked, crossing your arms and pushing him back. “If the boss is ordering me to sleep with someone and collect intel from them, then damn right I’m doing that. We’ve been through fucked up shit because of dad and after he was murdered...”

You trailed off, memories flashing across your brain. The scene you came across was ingrained in your mind.

When you both discovered his corpse, murdered, it was a day that changed you forever. It was a turning point — the catalyst. The blood and the mess that soaked the floor underneath his body... the deadness and emptiness of his eyes as they stared right up at you and your twin brother. If not for that day, you never would’ve become the stone-cold killer that you are now. Never would’ve tasted blood and pain how you had.

Never would have taken this spot in the Butterfly Syndicate, ascending to become one of the higher-ranking members that the Black Butterfly trusts with most of her assignments.

“Still,” you continued, bringing yourself out of those dark moments, “We’re only still doing all of this for him.”

“Yea,” he whispered, blinking several times before his attention fell to the ground, his hair covering his eyes. “You know dad wouldn’t have wanted us to fall in his footsteps. He always wanted us to lead normal lives and not carry all of this baggage. What do you think he would have said? Seeing us both in the middle of all of this?”

“He wouldn’t have approved,” you admitted. “We were his little babies.”

“I know that we took over the family business,” Jeno sighed as he mentioned the family business. “People would have a field day if they knew the Lee Group was a part of the Butterfly Syndicate. After all the times we were a neutral party…”

Lee Group—the major corporation run and operated out of the heart of the city — was known for being a leader within the technology and medical supply industries and for making headlines because of their incredible charity works. By day, you were the Executive Director, handling the administration aspect of the business.

However, by night... your name was something else altogether. Your day job, working with the corporation, was to ensure that the lines did not cross and that your underground affairs did not affect the legitimate business dealings of the corporation. It was also to give you both an alibi. At first, both you and Jeno had protested being included in the company, claiming that your father wanted nothing to do with the two of you having the same life that he had—constantly walking a thin line and carrying such a heavy burden. But when your father was murdered, it was clear what choice you both had to make. You would just honor his wishes and build upon everything that he had left behind—protect your family’s legacy with everything you had in you.

Even if it meant becoming a tool for the Butterfly Syndicate.

A heavy silence fell over both of you as you tried to steer your thoughts away from that memory. Turning back around, you walked a couple of steps down the road. But something stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N,” your brother said quietly from behind.

You halted mid-step, foot paused just before it connected with the ground. You turned your body slightly.

“Have you ever thought of... I mean, about your situation. With the boys?” Jeno brought his palm to the back of his neck. He rubbed it gently. “Is there any chance it’s starting to become something more? That you actually want to be with them, outside of what your assignment requires?”

“No. I... No. There isn’t. I can’t,” your voice faltered, trailing off and falling to the wind, becoming lost in the sounds of the city streets. You clenched your jaw tightly, flexing the muscles there, and tensing. Taking in a deep breath, you focused. “Who they spend the night with is Byeol, a stripper. Not me. Those guys aren’t with Y/N.”

“Besides, who’d want me when they find out the shit that I’ve done? Who’d want Y/N?” you laughed humorlessly. The tone was dripping with bitterness, every word drenched in a bitterness that only you and your brother recognized. “She’s not the one to be with.”

You whipped back around, continuing the walk, pulling the keys out and unlocking the door. Throwing the vehicle into gear and backing out, you took off towards home and hopefully a night free of the events that happened just minutes before.

Once you arrived at your apartment and settled down for the night, a text arrived on your phone. Lifting the device, a notification lit up the screen with a bright light. Your eyes scanned the text and the images attached. You let the phone drop onto the surface next to the bed with a thud and rolled over.

You should have expected that to show up. After all, these texts often did arrive unannounced. Sometimes, only on the days after you had seen the guys. Pictures and videos of the guys and you that you’ve taken throughout your sexual exploits.

This message was just a video. When the device came back on the screen, an image of you on your knees with a mouth full of dick popped up on the display. The moans that followed from the video were ones that you recalled: you begging and pleading for Yunho or Jongho to just fuck you senseless. A muffled sigh came from your own lips as you recalled the many times the two of them have fucked you hard. Fucked you raw and filled you until your stomach was swollen and a sloppy mixture of their seed dribbled out of your hole.

Rolling over again, you buried your face in your pillow. Letting your eyes flutter close, the weight of the fatigue that had lingered on your shoulders pulled you down and you drifted into the first deep sleep that you’d have in months.

It was going to be a few days until you saw them again and your schedule for the rest of this week was packed with assignments for the syndicate. Maybe, just maybe, these three days would be enough for the aching feeling between your thighs to dull just a bit.

Little did you know—it never did.

“You finished counting that batch up? It’s almost time for our meeting with the group,” Yunho announced from behind Jongho.

Jongho stretched, rolling his head and letting out a satisfying moan when his joints popped in place. Glancing to the side, his eyes fell onto Yunho as his friend straightened the sleeves to his dark jacket. The other guy was running a hand through his hair, eyes staring directly at him. His large fingers were carefully fastening the button and clasp, keeping the clothing on and preventing it from coming loose during their exchange.

“Yea,” the younger man said with a smile, his lips turning up in a wicked smile. “Count’s right, just like every other shipment. Remind me to tell San that I’m not doing the counts anymore. I’m a consigliere, not a counter.”

“I feel you. I’m the lieutenant. I’m too important to waste my time like that,” Yunho exhaled a deep breath. He reached for the half drunk bottle of amber liquid beside him and poured the remaining alcohol in the glass, shooting a generous amount of the golden, fiery liquid. Once the container was empty, he set the glass aside and wandered closer to where his friend sat, an arm thrown behind him on the couch. “Can’t wait until this week is over. All the business and meetings are driving me nuts.”

“Really now?” Jongho asked.

“The only thing that’ll make it better is Byeol on my lap when we’re done,” Yunho whispered, a grin spreading across his cheeks. He wiggled his eyebrows and the man across the couch shook his head. “Just a few more days. Can’t wait. That video you took was so hot. Just like all the other ones, it drove me fucking wild.”

“Thought you’d enjoy it, hyung,” Jongho quipped, amused. “Considering all the times we fucked her pussy raw and came all over her, the evidence of how much fun we have can only get hotter.”

They walked together, hands clasped behind their heads and fingers laced behind their skulls as they continued their stroll down the corridor. As they reached the main section of the room, the other top members of the organization were there: all wearing either suits or attire fitting of high-ranking gangsters. Yunho and Jongho made their way towards the only chairs vacant at the table.

“Now that Yunho and Jongho are here,” the boss started, fixing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “let’s proceed with the meeting.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Kim Hongjoong, the boss who ruled over the entire faction. He commanded everyone’s loyalty and if it wasn’t given freely; it was extracted through blood, death, and violence. And those that swore loyalty to him—Hongjoong was someone to be feared and to fear for.

His power over this group allowed the money from their illegal affairs to flow with ease and plenty. Everyone who swore their allegiance reaped the benefits. And to protect the interests and to keep this business going, no expense was spared.

“Next week, the new shipment is going to arrive at a new port,” Hongjoong flipped open a map and gestured to a location marked with a red pin. “After the transaction is complete, the product will be delivered straight to the factories. Production will take place over the next month and when ready, sales can begin to take place.”

Hongjoong looked over at the men. “Seonghwa, any news on the Butterfly Syndicate? What is their movement this week?”

Seonghwa, the deceptively cold-hearted underboss of the Brotherhood of Ateez, stood up and faced the rest of the crew. “I received reports on the activity they have been up to recently. They signed contracts with the Neo Clan and Blue Melodies on some of their trade deals. Seems like they’re trying to secure a foothold in other cities.”

“The arms?” Hongjoong asked a handsome, beefy man across from him.

“Are well stocked,” Wooyoung responded as he leaned back in the chair and cracked a smile. He smiled wider, turning around to face the head of the group, almost a little too excitedly. “And if I do say so, boss, the Butterflies would love to get their hands on it.”

A chorus of laughter rumbled through the table. Several of the people that were gathered leaned against the desk or tapped the surface. One of them reached down for the case of beers by his feet, offering one to everyone present.

Hongjoong motioned to continue the conversation. “Any issues with our operations? Anything we need to take care of?”

“It was slow on the usual drug routes,” Mingi said, “but everything else is smooth. All other trades are solid.”

The discussion continued for a few minutes more. Just about the regular operations of the faction and their enterprise. In total, the group would discuss for a few hours on topics that ranged from the security of the newest weapons on their roster to the details on the business of their trade and finally—the recent rumors about their rival organizations.

“Yunho. Jongho,” San started. He pointed his finger from left to right. “Are ya’ll still seeing that stripper?”

“We are,” Yunho crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and shrugged. He wiggled his eyebrows a bit and threw his arms over the back of his chair. “She’s a feisty one, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t think I need to know what you guys get up to,” Yeosang had a drink perched against the corner of his lips and took a long, deep pull of the drink before setting it down. “Don’t need all the disgusting, dirty details.”

“Wait till he sees this, though,” Jongho dug into his pants and pulled out his phone, flipping through it until he found the image. He passed it towards his hyung.

“Damn,” Yeosang whistled softly. He handed the cell back to the younger and clapped once, rising from his seat. “But I am curious, you know. This girl... never mind.”

“Spit it out, hyung,” Jongho chirped playfully. The cheeky guy leaned forward and grinned, his pearly whites showing. “We all wanna know.”

“It’s just weird, you know?” Yeosang began. “After you two are with this girl, somehow the Butterfly Syndicate always seems to have an idea of where to locate us.”

“Are you saying,” Jongho moved to his seat slowly, folding his arms over his broad chest, his arms pushing his pectorals tighter together, “this girl has anything to do with it?”

“I’m not saying she’s a snitch,” Yeosang’s voice was steady and firm. He looked over his shoulder before letting out a small whisper. “All I’m saying is they seem to get an idea on how to sniff out the next deal, the next shipment. It seems odd, considering she is just a random strip club dancer and your usual nighttime flings.”

“It’s alright Yeosang,” Hongjoong assured. “She may be a strip club dancer, but she’s more than that.”

“Sir?” Seonghwa asked.

“She’s more than you know,” the boss continued, fixing a black-and-white striped suit sleeve and tightening the cufflink against the fabric. “The question is if she’ll switch sides.”

“I’m lost,” Mingi frowned.

“This stripper is Lee Wooseok’s daughter,” Hongjoong uttered, closing his eyes in an attempt to find the words. “And she’s a high-ranking member of the Butterfly Syndicate.”

“Lee Wooseok? As in the Lee Group?” San asked, Hongjoong nodding his head.

A sudden shift ran through the air. The once tense atmosphere became a void of complete silence and it seemed as if the surrounding time had also stopped moving.

“If that’s the case,” Seonghwa trailed off, “if we can convert her over and gain her loyalties, it would mean the biggest gain. The one they would never expect.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue. He leaned back against the chair, eyeing the other guys. “Think it could work? If Yunho and Jongho fuck her brain cells away?”

“There’s no need for that,” Hongjoong softly laughed. “Mingi, please go and escort Lee Wooseok to headquarters. I’m sure his children would be more than pleased to see him again.”

Mingi got up from the desk, the scrape of the chair’s legs loud against the flooring. “On it, sir.”

“Yunho. Jongho. Since you have grown close to the woman, I would like for the two of you to help with our discussion.” Hongjoong slowly glanced over his shoulder to the giant mirror in the office.

Behind the looking glass, two sets of eyes were fixed onto him. With a clear throat, he continued to talk to the rest of his men and the orders that needed to be followed.

“What the fuck?” your voice was loud and hysterical. “What the actual fuck!?”

You threw the documents onto the coffee table and grabbed your phone. It felt heavy in your trembling hand and you took in a deep, shaky breath.

Jeno’s footsteps could be heard in the next room over. They thudded against the ground and came running towards you. He peeked in the room, glancing in to see what had you acting all crazy this early in the morning. His face turned into a grimace as he walked closer, catching sight of what you were clutching tightly.

“They know Jeno,” you whispered. “The Brotherhood knows. This was shoved under our front door. Someone slid it underneath the door last night.”

Your twin brother came over and opened the papers. It was a black-and-white photo of you dressed in your business suit and high heels, leaving the Lee Group’s main building in the heart of downtown. Your face was in focus, crystal clear. Not an inch or speck was covered up, providing a full, unobstructed view. And the bold text on the back of the photo read: “Who knew a stripper would be an executive at a legitimate business?”

“I also got this text on my burner phone from Yunho.” You handed your brother the burner you used to keep in contact with the guys. The cell phone screen glowed in the dim lighting and displayed the message.

“Let’s meet up in front of Lee Group’s building at noon.”

“How much do you want to bet it’s an ambush? This doesn’t feel right,” Jeno sighed and raked a hand through his dark, ruffled hair. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, groaning from his sleep. He shrugged. “No other way to know. Just go to the spot and meet them. They won’t do anything in broad daylight and in front of a legitimate business in the heart of downtown.”

“You better be right,” you said as you rose from the couch and made way to your room to get changed and prepare to venture out for the day.

“I will be,” Jeno said.

“Just have our guys stand ready. If shit hits the fan,” your eyes darkened and your stare darkened as the emotion seeping through your tone was chilling and ominous, “do what you need to do. I’ll take the blame for anything if I need to.”

The remainder of the morning consisted of a quick change in clothes, grabbing an early, small snack for the day and rushing over to the destination to meet with the two men. Leaving a little earlier, you planned your route and decided the best and fastest path to take. After arriving at the front doors to the Lee Group’s building, you scanned the area. People walking about their day-to-day lives; their hands busy holding shopping bags or on phones or shoved in their coat pockets. Nothing too unusual or out of place.

No one was suspicious at all.

As you checked the time on your watch, footsteps approaching, muffled and heavy, against the pavement could be heard. You turned and caught the pair of broad shoulders as the owners of the feet appeared from around the corner.

“So this is what our pretty Byeol looks like when she’s dressed and ready for work,” Yunho hummed softly when they stepped right up to the side of you. You felt yourself being watched—scanned over from top to bottom. He even let out an appreciative whistle.

Jongho stretched his lips upwards into a devilishly attractive smile. His mouth fell apart. “Well fuck, babe, if you looked this nice dressed like this every day, I’d come and pick you up to drive you here myself.”

“Please tell me that the two of you didn’t call me out in the middle of my day for your sappy pickup lines,” you deadpanned as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are we just going to talk in front of your company’s main doors like this?” Yunho asked, scratching the base of his skull, glancing at Jongho. He flicked his wrist in the air, gesturing. “Don’t want any problems or issues.”

“Fine,” you breathed out a deep sigh that you didn’t know that you were holding in. “Try anything funny and I will take both of you out faster than you can even blink.”

“Feisty,” Jongho grinned as he followed you. “Where was this firecracker when we fucked? She never came out during our time in the bedroom.”

You ignored him as you turned on your heel, the sounds of your high heels clicking against the cement as you walked towards the front lobby. Walking into the building, you hear a chorus of greetings from the employees of the company going about their workday. Many people were standing about and chattering excitedly, happy that the weather was looking sunny today and most likely would stay for the remainder of the afternoon.

“Didn’t know that you were a respectable member of society,” Yunho mused, still surveying the facility and observing his environment, letting the information sink in. “Working corporate and dressed to impress. Looks like Byeol has been holding back a lot more secrets than we think.”

The three of you arrived in your office and you closed the blinds. Pulling down the shades on the glass, blocking the view to and from inside, you spun around to face the men, who sat in the two seats in the room.

Jongho looked relaxed. His left leg was swung over his knee and his arms rested behind him, creating a bulging mass of muscle against his frame. Yunho seemed to be a lot less relaxed. He was studying you more closely. Every last facial gesture, expression and twitch were not unnoticed.

“So Byeol, if that is your real name, who are you exactly?” Yunho asked cooly as he narrowed his gaze at you. His jaw was set tight, lips pursed together, pressed hard in a tight line. “From what we can tell, you’re not just some high-class stripper.”

“Why don’t you tell us who you are instead?” Jongho sat straighter as he propped his ankle onto his knee and watched you pace around the office, pausing to stand before a painting or picture on the wall. “Now that we think about it, there are so many things we still haven’t figured out about you.”

“Lee Y/N,” you mutter. “My name is Lee Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, explain all of this,” he gestured towards the scenery behind him. “This life.”

“Why?” You sank into your office chair, staring at him. “So the Brotherhood can kill me just like you did my father?”

“What?” Jongho snapped his head straight, attention turning towards you. “The fuck you talking about?”

“Don’t you guys dare act stupid and pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about,” you growled and scowled at the two. “I’ve known for years about the Brotherhood of Ateez and you know everything about the Lee Group. You had Lee Wooseok, my father, killed!”

“No,” Yunho shook his head. He stated firmly, his eyes shifting over to his friend. Both of them stood up from the chairs. “I would remember if we had a hit on Lee Wooseok.”

“Forgive me for not believing your crap!” You exclaimed. You gripped the armrests of the seat tighter until your knuckles had turned white, digging into the fabric.

“Hold the fuck on,” Jongho pulled out the phone and punched a few keys on the screen. Bringing it up to his ear, he placed a call. His eyes darted up and down the length of the entire space of the room, to the walls, to the ceiling, to your direction. He flipped around and spoke low, just low enough for the other party to understand the context of his request. His eyes settled directly on you as Jongho was quiet, taking in the information on the other end. “I understand. We’ll be there shortly.”

“We are having a discussion tonight with our group about what you’ve said,” he clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times and relaxed the muscles around his neck. “They want you and your brother to join and talk to us as we try to sort everything out.”

“And what if it’s a trap?” You eyed both of them. “If I turn up there, your leader’s number one hitter will have an easy shot and take me out.”

“No one will touch you. You have my word. And his,” Yunho reassured.

You stayed silent for a few beats. Eyes falling shut, you nodded and allowed your pupils to flutter open.

“If anything happens, I’ll wipe you out myself,” you shifted your gaze from the one across from you, over to your current boy toy, nodding firmly. “When and where?”

“Now,” Yunho said as he shifted himself up out of his seat and headed towards the exit. “Tell your brother.”

Although Jeno wanted to beat up the two men that stood beside you, you insisted and told him that it wasn’t the time to engage, not yet, at least. There wasn’t enough proof or information. You both needed to know more, needed to learn as much as you could to piece things together and conclude on your next move.

Upon reaching the Brotherhood’s headquarters, your brother was appraising the surroundings, calculating potential escape routes and thinking up plans in case things became unfavorable. You knew that expression very well: his lips were pressed tight, frowning, and his dark brows were pushed close to each other. He was clearly displeased and upset. You knew he wanted blood, but there was nothing he could do until you gave the go ahead.

“In there,” Yunho said, pushing the heavy oak door leading to the chamber where the rest were waiting.

All eyes were on you. With your brother at your side, your lips pursed tightly and eyes darkened. You straightened up and stepped forward with purposeful strides. No signs of weakness. Not anymore.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee. Miss Lee.” The young head of the organization greeted. Hongjoong glanced at you before standing up and coming over to you, grabbing onto your hand and shaking it firmly. His hand released its hold and gestured for everyone in the room to take their seats. Once everyone reclaimed their spots in their places on the long, hardwood table, the head started. “Don’t worry. No one will touch you here.”

“Look, you can save your pleasantries and get to the point,” Jeno sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just explain what is going on.”

“My father and yours were good friends,” Hongjoong continued, leaning forwards to prop his arms on the surface in front of him. “Yes, the Lee Group remained neutral and was a valuable source of intel in our wars and territory. However, your family also has another value, don’t you see?”

Your brother looked at the gang boss questioningly.

“Lee Wooseok was an entrepreneur that loved his family deeply. Very deeply,” Hongjoong elaborated further. The leader’s lips tilted upwards and turned into a small smile. “The old man was someone who truly wanted a safe life for the two of you. He would never have wanted you two to follow the path of his and our lives.”

“What are you...” You started.

Hongjoong continued, nodding at Wooyoung as the rookie moved to grab the file he held tucked under his arm. The brown folder slid across the hardwood table until it rested in your lap. He spoke the words that would change your world. “Your father’s alive.”

Your head lifted up.

“What?” Jeno inquired, a confused expression clouding his features. “But we saw his corpse.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That was a cover-up by us, the Brotherhood. Your father knew that he had a hit on him, so he devised a plan: faking his death and staying hidden, lying in low profile.”

“For the last ten years?” You gasped, fingers grazing the edge of the brown folder. You couldn’t move. No strength in your body remained to flip the front open.

“Yes,” Hongjoong spoke as he took his seat again. His eyes gleamed and danced, something reflecting. “Open the file.”

The papers rustled. There was an image paper-clipped to the corner and the minute your eyes fell upon the visage, your throat tightened, caught in a hard lump as a few droplets formed. The moment you touched them, the tears clung to your fingers, and you swore your heart stopped.

You whispered and breathed, “Dad.”

Your father was still handsome. His hair was greying and strands had streaks of grey in it. And his eyes had aged, those old eyes with crinkles, showcasing his joy, his sorrow. But it was him. Lee Wooseok was truly alive, and it felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

It had been ages since you felt this, a warm sensation filling your chest cavity. You had never felt lighter—liberated—from these invisible shackles.

After a quick scan through the photos and reports in the envelope, you flipped the manila folder closed and latched the cover shut. You sighed as your brows furrowed. “When can I meet him?”

“Business first,” Hongjoong said as he watched your reaction closely.

“What kind of business?” Jeno asked, brows knitting.

“You joined the Butterfly Syndicate because they told you that we were the ones behind your father’s death,” Hongjoong explained. “Told you that we were the ones responsible and promised to help get revenge?”

“Yes,” you nodded in affirmation.

“They tricked you. The Butterflies are the ones behind Lee Wooseok’s hit.”

“Wait a minute,” the younger twin furrowed his brows. He was shocked at hearing the words from the leader’s own lips and a cold sweat broke through, coating his skin. “Are you sure it’s the Butterflies that did this? How?”

“Your father can tell you the details when you finally reunite,” the leader stated, voice firm and resolute, leaving little doubt in the statement. “Since you are both high-ranked members of the Butterfly Syndicate, you would have important information and intel on the trade deals and such.”

“So,” your eyes locked into place with his. “You want me to continue working on this and supply you with the necessary intelligence, right? So you can infiltrate the organization? Are you saying that the Lee’s can help the Brotherhood take them down and bring them to its fall? If that’s your goal, I have no issues with it.”

“My father always hated that company, so I hate them even more,” Jeno said, running a hand through his short hair. His arms crossed over his wide chest. “You’ll offer us protection and help? The Butterflies aren’t going to let this go if we defect.”

“Oh we know,” Hongjoong smirked back. “But the Brotherhood can ensure your protection and safety from their wrath. No one will lay a hand on either of you two.”

“Jeno?” You looked at your twin brother.

“Can we...meet our dad first?” He asked carefully as his eyes met yours and flicked towards Hongjoong, questioning. “And after that, we can discuss?”

Hongjoong nodded and, with a small nod, one man got up and stepped out. A few seconds later, a familiar figure filled the room with his presence, strolling in with a grin and twinkling eyes. The moment your eyes landed on the individual, tears began to form again.

“Dad,” you choked out before springing up and crossing the room to leap at him. Tackling him with a hug, you found yourself burying your nose deep into his collar and breathing him in. “Dad!”

Jeno was at your side, piling on with an embrace. His eyes screwed shut and squeezed out the water. Your father clutched the two of you tightly and wrapped you both in a bear hug. The man sniffled before laughing warmly and softly.

“My babies aren’t babies anymore.” He released his hold on the pair of you. Hands coming to cup both of your cheeks, his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to the surfaces of your eyelids. “My children, I missed you so much.”

With your father returned and the reunion complete, all matters were settled and agreed. It would take a few days, but your loyalties had changed to the Brotherhood, and you would supply what they needed.

This meeting ended successfully for both sides, but things could only be set in motion and could not be changed now that the ball had been set in motion.

The Brotherhood had offered you and Jeno places to stay since the Butterfly Syndicate knew where your residence was. In their words, it would be unwise and stupid to return after switching sides, especially with the secrets you now carried. However, with no way and money or anything other than a duffel bag for the both of you, you had no other options. You agreed with Hongjoong’s statements and, for now, would reside in the guest rooms in their house.

One night, Yunho and Jongho invited you to their penthouse suite that they lived in, minutes away from headquarters. Standing at their door, the heat rose from your abdomen and heated your chest as you hesitated before finally gathering enough courage to give the knock and let them know of your presence. Hearing the footsteps, the shuffle of shoes on the tile floor could be heard from the other end, causing your muscles to stiffen as anticipation and nervousness dripped through your veins like thick, poisonous venom.

The lock clicked. Then the knob turned. It gave way as the door cracked and opened up. The tall, broad, dark-haired man appeared in the opening. “Come in,” he said, gesturing for you to enter. You nodded as the greeting and stepped past.

“Get here okay?” Yunho leaned his entire body against the surface of the front entrance. A quizzical expression washed over his face. His arms were folded, his shoulder blades squaring the breadth and strength of his torso.

“Yeah. Seonghwa dropped me off,” you looked around the suite and noticed Jongho gesturing at you to join him on the couch.

“Now sit down,” Jongho settled on the couch and popped open a can of beer, offering you one. You shook your head. “Y/N, you look so fucking stressed right now. Chill.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” you sighed as your shoulders drooped. Head hanging low, eyes cast downward, you could feel his body heat grow as his feet brought his long legs closer and closer towards your form.

“A lot happened and you just need to relax. De-stress,” his hand came to lift your chin.

“He has a point,” Yunho chipped in, standing behind you from your spot on the couch. His long fingers and firm hands danced along the collar of your blouse, flicking open one button and exposing some flesh. The shirt hung slightly off your shoulders, enough to give a small tease.

Your breath hitched. Yunho’s fingers were grazing along the line of your bra strap, running his thumbs across the silky smooth material. A sigh slipped through your lips and a slight shiver rolled from your toes and up, coursing through your legs.

“I know,” your voice came out weak as the heat stirred in the pit of your stomach, heating between your thighs. “It’s just... learning that dad was alive this whole time, being tricked by the Syndicate. I just hate myself so much and feel like an idiot.”

“Yeah. It’s an enormous shock,” Jongho said. “But at least you know the truth and that you got your father back.”

“He’s alive, and he’s well,” Yunho hummed softly. You tilted your head back, making contact with the solid frame of the large, dark-haired guy standing behind you. And fuck was he towering.

Yunho chuckled, placing a passionate kiss onto your neck, trailing them across your collar bones and then diving right back up. He held the column of your throat between his forefinger and his thumb. “So pretty.”

“I do wonder though...” Jongho tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. He tilted your face upwards so he could look directly into your eyes. He peered deeper. “Did you actually enjoy the sex? Was it just part of the job and mission to collect intel on us?”

“Be honest,” Yunho spoke up. He had started moving again. His chest was rising and falling slowly. “Do you have even an ounce of feelings for us?”

“It started out that way,” you bit the inner walls of your cheek and chose your words carefully. “Fucking you for intel... My loyalty to the Butterfly Syndicate was strong. But as the days turned to weeks, the nights continued, the conversations in the bed... they shifted. I really enjoyed talking and more so... just being with you guys.”

You leaned into Jongho’s palm, gazing up into the other man’s face. You pressed a delicate, sincere kiss in the middle of his wide hand. “You two made it impossible to not have any sort of attachment.”

Yunho’s palms skimmed over your thighs, massaging gently. Fingers nimbly toyed, tapping against your muscles. There were tiny sparks firing off, the reaction caused the butterflies that were sleeping in your belly to stir awake. The insects roused, taking flight and they fluttered, wings rapidly flapping.

“Would it ease the guilt and uneasiness that you feel,” Yunho’s expression turned thoughtful as his eyes bore into you, looking into the depths, “if we let you know that the feeling is mutual, sweet girl?”

Jongho caressed your cheek before slipping his arm and wrapped it around your waist. He nuzzled his nose, nipping at your ear lobe. “It’s not the ideal situation for any of us, but regardless, we genuinely liked hanging out and fucking around.”

Jongho tapped his fingertips on your shoulder blades. A few low chuckles escaped him. His next sentence flowed slowly, lingering around you like a faint, heavy fog. “Fuck the Butterfly Syndicate’s plans, yeah?”

Yunho trailed a finger between the valley of your breasts and stopped teasing. A brief smirk showed itself for a split second. His features were relaxed, as if the whole discussion wasn’t about destroying and eliminating entire syndicates and you weren’t the key component to the entire puzzle and destruction.

Yunho’s palm returned to your cheek as his fingers hooked under your chin. His thumb rubbed your lower lip as his voice dropped, quiet, but firm. “Tonight, let’s just forget that we’re anything else. No more underworld agenda. We’re just three people that are enjoying each other’s bodies, right?”

“No expectations,” Jongho whispered, grazing your lip against the pad of his thumb.

“No pretense,” Yunho smirked.

The pair’s hands slipped beneath your clothing and lifted it off. Piece by piece, the material came loose and discarded somewhere in the penthouse suite. Soft pants escaped your lungs. And with a satisfied exhale, Jongho tipped your chin, smothering his lips against yours, the smooth cushions melding against your skin. His tongue ran against the opening, his taste buds swirling the seams. A hand stroked the outline of your neck and cupped the tender surface.

“Let go of every worry that is plaguing your pretty little head tonight, darling,” Yunho whispered softly against the space behind your ear. You whimpered when his mouth parted, sucking and pressing the curve of his full bottom lip. “Leave the world, the fears, the worries, the obligations, the past, everything outside these doors, because right now, sweetheart, it’s just going to be me and Jongho taking care of you. Can you be a good girl for us?”

Another whine slipped from your parted lips and into the space between.

“Yeah. That’s it. Good girl,” the sound of approval rumbled against the flat plain of your back, reverberating as a heat settled in. “Just focus on making yourself feel good.”

A hot mouth connected to your collarbones, mouthing, leaving behind wet imprints and soft trails with a nip. It didn’t take long for it to move and track up your jawline, pressing against the column and taking a few licks along your throat.

Two sets of mouths connected to each section of bare skin and their touch lit a fire under your skin. Two more sets of hands skimmed, fingers pinching, rolling and twirling the hard buds on your nipples. A set of warm, plump lips latched onto one and gave it a harsh suck, a groan escaping as their taste buds rolled it, teasingly nibbling on the sensitive tip.

“Y/N,” Yunho’s masculine voice purred your name like velvet, his warm, calloused palms dancing a trail, a series of tingles being left behind and lingering. “How do you want it? Slow or do you want rough? Or maybe you want both? Yeah, I think you want both. We’re willing to do anything you want.”

Jongho looked straight into your eyes, making eye contact, piercing your soul through with his beautiful dark eyes. “After all, we can give it all to you.”

Dropping his pants, Yunho stood up from the sofa. “Open up for me, pretty girl.”

You did as he instructed and felt the press of the thick head pushing against your lips, waiting. His hands were on either side of your face, thumbs trailing the edges. “Wrap your pretty little lips on my cock and take all of it, darling.”

A hum of arousal and lust slipped between your parted lips as your hands slid across his trim hips. Yunho’s fingers sank into the messy locks as you rolled and flicked your tongue along the hardened head and smoothed the ridge. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He tugged you close, so his erection was deep inside. The thick shaft filled your mouth, pressing against your cheek, gagging. Your head bobbed, the saliva pooling around and staining your mouth. Tongue gliding up the surface as you flattened the muscle.

“I’m going to have you on your knees more often. This view is incredible. Damn. Perfect,” he hissed between his teeth, exhaling a large breath. “Eyes up at me, angel.”

You didn’t even know when Jongho laid on the floor, his face settled under you. Large palms spread across your ass and down your thighs, pulling your center right over his mouth. Lashes flickered as his thick tongue dipped deep. In an instant, you moaned around Yunho.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it, little one?” Yunho asked. You nodded, murmuring an “mmhm” around his cock. “His tongue is amazing, isn’t it? So amazing at working you out, hm?”

Jongho swirled and flicked the slick muscle, finding the swollen nub and latched his mouth, sucking and releasing repeatedly. Another deep groan sounded. It didn’t take long before you squirmed, grinding your pussy on Jongho’s mouth, whimpering around Yunho.

“Ah, so damn delicious,” a smirk crossed Jongho’s lips. “Juicy and so hot, I could eat out this little pussy all night.”

A brush of a finger on your anus and a slippery digit pushed inside as another penetrated your dripping slit.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Jongho sounded amused, and the praise mixed in with the string of vulgar words was enough to light a fire and a wetness under your core.

“God, your noises are fucking exquisite,” Yunho’s palms skated to your face, hooking a few stray strands behind your ears. His thumb toyed with your lower lip and swiped along the corner.“Tell me how you're feeling, sweet girl.”

His cock fell from your lips. You wrapped a hand around the girth and stared up into his brown orbs, blowing a hot, ragged breath. “Good. So damn fucking good.”

“Tell Jongho how it is, angel,” a simple command. “He wants to know.”

“Don’t stop,” you demanded breathlessly. The room was spinning. But you were far from caring. You were rocking against his digits and the motions as your forehead rested on Yunho’s thigh. A roll of a thrust, a quick stretch of his knuckles. “Just fucking make me cum on your lips and your fingers, fucker. Please.”

“Mmmm...yeah. Keep asking nicely like that, pretty girl,” the pads of his digits were curling. There was a chuckle as you heard the sound of his sloppy slurping, followed by a lewd, sloppy smack. “Your cunt is gripping me tight. Come undone already and soak my face, sugar. Stop fighting and cum like the slut that you are.”

“Sweetheart, your mouth,” Yunho cooed softly. “Open it again for me.”

With half lidded, glossed eyes, you met Yunho’s gaze before you obediently did so and received the thick weight back on the hot cavern. He laced the strands between his fingers.

“Ah,” the softest chuckle fell as the corners of his pinkish lips pulled upwards. “Swallow all of it. This is what you deserve for being a good girl. I’ll reward you. Promise.”

Yunho held your chin still, palm resting under it, steadying your movements and the angle and guiding the movements. His own lips parted, grunting at the sensation. Fingers thrusted with a gentle force and curled once again, finding the spongy part and rubbing as the pad flicked.

“Are you about to come undone, sweet girl?” Jongho shushed softly, with a light whisper against the inner parts of your thighs, pressing a kiss there. His face was nuzzling there, dragging his open mouth along your heated skin. “Don’t hold back. I know your pretty little pussy can give me more to drink.”

“Such a good girl.” Yunho thumbed across the sides of your face and caressed it gently. He gripped his shaft and pumped the shaft a couple times. The liquid beading on the head of his cock swirled on the tongue, a deep moan as he tasted himself. “Such a pretty fucking mouth. Take your reward, darling. Every single last drop.”

Hands gripped tightly and tugged on the locks of hair. He held you firmly in place. Cursing, Yunho’s muscles quivered. You massaged the head with the flat surface of your tongue and let the liquid spill and spill inside your hot mouth. You let your tongue caress his length, catching every single drop, all the while Jongho thrusted his hand, curled his fingers and used his mouth and tongue to push you over the edge.

The orgasm rolled through, taking over your body. You held on to Yunho, hands reaching for the exposed parts of his upper body, desperate for stability as your hips bucked erratically, uncontrollably and rode out your high on his hand and lips. Your mind was screaming and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. There was no other thought process going on except, yes, yes, yes.

Yunho crouched in front of you and caught you as you toppled forward.

“Come on, baby girl,” you whined against the hard surface of his body, “we’re just getting started, sugar. You’re doing good.”

Picking you up, Yunho tossed you easily onto the bed, like you weighed nothing. It wasn’t rough, but it was a motion that said that they were in control. Jongho walked into your peripheral vision, stark naked and looking gorgeous. His body was gorgeous. How someone had the physique, the hard work, and discipline.

A groan ripped from your lips as Jongho climbed onto the sheets beside you and nudged your hips. “Straddle me, sugar. My dick can’t wait anymore and neither can I.”

Your pussy lips grazed the length and his head teased and pressed against your clit as you rotate your hips and rolled your spine. Hands pressed on the planes of Jongho’s hard, sculpted pecs, gripping the rigid muscles. Leaning forward, you put one hand on his stomach to steady yourself and, with the other, you gripped his base and slid down onto the shaft in one quick motion. 

You met his gaze and whispered huskily, “Neither can I.”

Both hands pressed firmly against the abdominal muscles and leaned back. Spine arched, head resting against the mattress, you rode Jongho as Yunho settled himself between your legs behind you.

“Such a nice pussy. The view is perfect,” planting his palm in the center of your chest and over your breast, Yunho captured your lips with his. Nipping the underside of the curve and peppering a few kisses there. Palms groping and kneading the globe as a thumb grazed a pert nipple. “Can you take me too, sweet thing? Let me fill your ass as you ride our boy here?”

“Yes please, sir.” Your mind was dazed and in pure ecstasy. And Yunho took care to make you feel good.

Yunho shifted your weight until you were face down into Jongho’s neck and shoulder, Jongho’s muscled arms wrapping protectively around you. “You’re going to need to hang onto Jongho, doll. You’re going to need him while I fill that beautiful ass.” His fingertip trailed a line starting from the space right below your neck and to where the spine ended.

Your pelvis ground onto Jongho’s as his hands cradled you and held you tight to his body. It wasn’t as if you had never had anal sex before with the two of them. No, not at all. You had done it plenty of times, more so with Jongho since Yunho was well, packing some size and there was only so much you could handle.

It didn’t take long before you heard the lid click and the bottle pop open. You felt the lube drip, cool and slick, between your round ass cheeks and down the valley to where both men were filling your openings. Yunho took his sweet, slow, torturous time, teasing you with the head of his cock, parting and spreading the cheeks and running the length between. You turned your head slightly to watch him over your shoulder and sighed in relief and content when his girth finally penetrated your walls.

With one palm gripping your waist, fingers splayed, Yunho guided his thick cock further. With the other hand, he soothed a firm hand up your back, the weight feeling relaxing and calming your nerves, reassuring that you were okay. The curve of his body dipped down, allowing his mouth to reach and capture your lips, sucking, nibbling.

“Fuck, baby. Your ass takes me so well, damn it,” he breathed, tugging your hair, releasing, letting it fall as his teeth caught his full bottom lip. “Gonna fill you so much until your body can’t handle it anymore.”

“So full...” Your face burrowed in the space between Jongho’s shoulders, against the dip as his own neck. Your palms pressed against his chest, fingertips grasping at his warm, sweaty skin. “Need a second...to adjust.”

“We gotcha, sweetheart,” Yunho placed a gentle kiss along your spine, not moving yet. He helped the angle by keeping you bent over Jongho. “Relax. We’re right here.”

You felt the slight burning and fullness. Once the stretching was complete, you were okay. Lifting your lower half up, the movement caused your pussy to slide onto Jongho, and that immediately did the trick. Once it started, Yunho filled your asshole up completely.

The action made the men groan at the feeling. Their pleasure at having both your holes filled was evident.

“Move, move, move,” you breathed roughly, clawing Jongho’s pectoral muscles as you reached your mouth up to find his and a tongue quickly found entrance. They found their rhythm. The sound of slaps and sticky, squishy sounds filled the air.

“Atta girl,” Yunho mumbled a mixture of praise. He grunted and fisted a clump of your hair, tugging your face back until your chest arched out. “Yeah, this is what you wanted, is it? Talk to us, pretty girl.”

“Love having you guys stuffing me,” you gasped when Yunho pumped in, forcing your back to arch even more. A stream of whimpers were heard, almost like a song playing repeatedly. The friction was just too damn delicious. “Both of you are stretching and fucking me. Please. I’m yours. Both of you.”

The praise continued, getting louder and dirty.

“I need you guys to keep pounding into me,” you were chanting like a mantra. “Wreck my pretty holes. Pound me as I cum on your fat, massive cocks.”

“And we love giving it to you, angel. Filling you with us until you’re spilling all over,” Yunho mumbled his words directly at the shell of your ear. “Over and over. Until we fill up every single damn part.”

Jongho was meeting your hips, pumping at the same pace and speed as Yunho. There was no room to slide in between the pair. The pair was stuffed into both of your crevices and hitting all the right spots that drove you mad; the tingling became a raging heat.

“Close,” a muffled noise fell, breaking from your throat. Your mouth was parted, the lips dried and swollen.

“Be a good girl and come on our cocks,” Jongho pressed a chaste, close mouth peck against your cheek and murmured in a sultry voice. “Soak it, baby. Do it now.”

And you did exactly that.

Your mind turned white with only one name being thought repeatedly, with no other thing being thought about. All you heard were the satisfied groans of the men that were taking their pleasure in your body. Their bodies jerked with their orgasms as both Yunho and Jongho poured everything into your pussy and into your ass.

You swore you saw heaven, bliss, whatever word would describe a paradise or utopia. And fuck, it felt so amazing, so damn glorious. You were in bliss as you felt the warmness from the men. Their lips were tracing lines down your neck as the rest of your body went limp against them. They whispered words of encouragement, whispers of getting married, but it sounded so far away.

Your eyes slipped shut, not sure how many seconds later, maybe a handful, and fell into a deep slumber.

With the combination of sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes and your eyes opening, there was a groan as you attempted to rub the tiredness away with the back of your hand. And regret was the very first thought. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You never fell asleep when having sex with the two men. That wasn’t something you’d normally do.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Trying to get up, your body aching from head to toe, you found yourself incapable. Bare and still feeling so sticky, a sheet was tangled around your body as two male forms were under the same piece of material and trapped between their limbs, an arm and a leg secured in their grips.

In a low tone, it was nearly a murmur, but deep and rough, Yunho spoke, pressing a kiss against your exposed, heated collarbones.

“Too sore, baby girl?” You met his brown eyes and bit your lip, nodding slowly, followed by a confirming hum. “Did you sleep well?”

“I... yeah... I guess. Wasn’t supposed to...” you stuttered a little, not quite finishing the sentence and dropping your gaze, embarrassed. “I never fall asleep...”

Yunho gently gripped your chin and gave you a proper good morning kiss on the lips, deepening it slightly before pulling away and ending it. A palm trailed your side and smoothed across the naked skin. “First time for everything, hm?”

Jongho stirred and mumbled groggily from somewhere underneath the blanket and an arm rested right above your breast, “Don’t leave the bed. We’ll do everything. Breakfast, bath, the lot. But stay in bed and rest.”

Your cheeks heated. This was awkward. Normally, the two men wouldn’t want you lingering and getting comfortable because business always called, and they both had an obligation to attend.

“About that,” Yunho mused and shifted onto the mattress. He curled around your form and had you resting your head against his arm, fingers skating patterns and tracing lines against the dip at your waist, drawing invisible lines. “We were going to talk about it.”

“Jongho and I were thinking...” Yunho nudged, glancing towards the young man and began chewing the bottom lip. “That after...”

He was hesitating. You didn’t quite understand why. He wasn’t the type of person to get nervous.

“What happens afterwards?” Yunho asked. “How would you feel, staying in bed, staying the weekend, or the week, and having us... taking care of you?”

Your eyes widened and glanced towards both men. “Are you sure? What would my dad say?”

Jongho gave a low grunt, nuzzling between your shoulders, lifting his head, and peppered a small, fleeting kiss. “Nothing. He would be thrilled that we were giving you whatever you need.”

“I don’t have my clothes. Nothing with me,” your breathing hitched.

“Don’t worry, angel, we have you covered. We’ll get you whatever you want,” Yunho remarked softly. He scooted in closer and intertwined his free hand, his left, with yours. There was a shine, a metal circling on his ring finger. A quick look downwards and Jongho had the same on him, matching the band of gold with his.

Both Yunho and Jongho didn’t have it before. Where did they get these?

Then you noticed the glint on your left ring finger. Gold with small diamonds set in a thin band and a black gem in the middle.

Your head shot right back upward and back and forth between the two men.

Yunho said it the next, a chuckle, soft, genuine, lacing his deep, melodic, soothing tone. “You didn’t say no when we asked you last night.”

You shook your head furiously. You hadn’t even heard. Too caught up in your high. “I wasn’t in... wasn’t in the right state of mind last night.”

“Willing to agree now?” The smile was playful and warm, softening Jongho’s face. The tone was teasing but hopeful. His thumb brushed against the warm, soft skin on your own.

Yunho leaned in closer, warm breath dusting over the surface of your lips, nose dragging across the top of yours, “Not the way we were dreaming of asking you officially.”

“As a married throuple, you’ll have two husbands that will help you fight against the Butterfly Syndicate, sweetheart.” His mouth slid over yours, swallowing a moan, and it was loving, and deep, and all-consuming, making your toes curl into the soft comforter under your bodies. He slowly eased his body weight on top of you as he took over and set a leisure and slow pace of languid strokes. “Husbands to keep you safe, husbands to always satisfy and fulfill any need. Husbands to get back at your enemies.”

Your mouth was still locked against his, Yunho’s tongue licking deep. You pressed your forehead against his temple and his hand slid even lower.

“So what do you say, hm?” Jongho lifted his head slightly to whisper, a glint dancing in the brown pools. “Can we officially call you our wife?”

Widening your eyes, you searched and met the gazes of both men and felt their hands clutching yours, almost scared that you would say no.

How could you say no when their hands and body made you feel like a queen, a woman adored and protected? A soft gasp spilled. How could you say no when their dark, cold eyes promised to bring your vengeance against those that hurt you and your family? You didn’t need to hold back when you were with them and in their care.

“Yes...” You turned and faced each of them. You would do this, together, with them. You swallowed your fears. “Let's get married.”

You were going to fight back. You were done hiding and turning away, hiding in the shadows.

[absurdthirst]

False Starts {Marcus Acacius x F!Plus Sized!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

Warnings: Fat shaming, spoiled/selfish behavior, contentious siblings, insults, arranged marriages, yearning, star crossed love, pregnancy, child birth, death in childbirth, mentions of blood, death of a child, grief, drunkenness, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), betrayal, domestic violence, threats of harm, escape, murder

Comments: A chance meeting causes you to meet the love of your life, Marcus Acacius. The gods against you at every turn it seems, you have so many false starts in your life together.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You remember the moment you met Marcus Acacius. Your older sister was carrying a basket full of olives that you'd picked from the trees. She was complaining that your father hadn't given enough for her dowry and she was lacking prospects for an important and influential husband. You sighed, knowing your sister - the beauty, the one who men trip over themselves for - is not lacking prospects. You, however, are less desirable...plumper. At least that's what your sister constantly says. She was too busy whining that she missed the raised stone on the street, falling forward, and the olives rolled everywhere when the basket went flying. That's when he appeared. His large hand stretched out to help her and she made a show of how she'd rolled her ankle. Marcus was a gentleman and carried her home in his arms while you trailed behind with the empty basket, admiring the broadness of his shoulders. His aquiline nose and his deep brown eyes. Your heart was his from that moment but you weren't the one he wanted. "Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely." Your father smiles as he shakes Marcus's hand after introducing himself and you bite your lip, admiring his strong arms.

"You are - Marcus. Wow. You've grown. The army has been good to you. You're home now?" Your father asks and Marcus nods, a confused look on his face. "I shall speak to your father." He smiles and you grip the basket, wondering what he might need to discuss. Marcus nods and turns towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart stops beating. Your sister steps in front of you, a silly smile on her face and Marcus draws his gaze to her, "I best be returning home. Have a good afternoon." He says, bowing his head. Your sister giggles, "thank you, my hero. Goodbye." She says breathlessly and Marcus makes his way through your courtyard. You watch him until he disappears and your sister grins, "that's the man I want to marry." She declares and your father chuckles, "let me speak to his father and I will see what we can do." Your throat feels dry and you can't speak, knowing your sister will get what she wants. She always does.

****

“I don’t desire her.” Marcus shakes his head as he stares at his father in horror. One meeting, one good deed and he has found out that his fate is being decided for him despite his years in the Roman army. “Her father is influential.” His father reminds him. “What she lacks in dowry, she will make up for with connections.” That doesn’t matter to Marcus, he’s a soldier. “What about her sister?” He demands, having been taken with the younger sister, the one whose eyes seem to stare into his soul and touch it. Her beauty more to his appetites. “I want her, not her sister.”

“The big one? Don’t be ridiculous, my boy. A man of your status needs a beautiful wife. Not someone who clearly cannot control their gluttony. You need someone next to you who will be appropriate for a general of Rome. You are on track for the position and you need a woman worthy of that. One day, you’ll be a senator.” His father declares, already mapping out the future for his only child. “And if I refuse?” Marcus challenges and his father turns to look at him, “then you’ll be on your own. No home. No coin. I’ll disown you.”

He doesn’t make much as a soldier, not enough to have any kind of life like he had imagined. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “She is vain and silly. She will not be the one to make me happy.” He tries to argue but his father will not hear of it. “You will marry the older girl.” He declares and Marcus sighs. He has no choice, without his father’s approval, he would lose his position in the army and he can’t risk that.

Your sister tells you the news by squealing it so loud that it echoes off the marbled walls of your home, “I am to marry Marcus!” She declares and your eyes widen, “Acacius?” You ask and she nods, “next week. Before he leaves for another battle.” She grins and you force yourself to smile, “that’s - wow. Congratulations, sister.” You offer, knowing you have no claim over the man. He’s been in your thoughts since the moment you met him but he isn’t yours. Now, he is your sister’s intended.

Once the betrothal is set, Marcus comes over to visit every day. His father tells him that he should get to know his bride to be, but he is most eager to see you every day. Your wit and humor touches him and he loves your soft, sweet smile.

You watch as Marcus sips the cup of wine, your sister giggling over every word he says and resting her hand on his thigh without anyone seeing. You hold your own cup, taking a gulp, and you hate that you are here as their chaperone. You hate to see your sister get what she wants when she hungers for money and power. She knows Marcus is in line to become a general one day and she wants to be there to share in his glory. You take a gulp of the wine and reach for the pitcher at the same time as Marcus, his fingers brushing yours, and you pull yours back like lightning has struck you.

“Forgive me.” Marcus murmurs, picking up the pitcher of wine and motioning towards you. He will refill it for you. “Do not apologize to her.” His intended snorts and tosses her head in a move that she must believe is very becoming but comes across like a petulant child. “She should stand to drink less.” She smirks. “And eat less too.” Marcus frowns, not liking the way you are being talked about and he moves closer to fill your cup before you snatch it away. “It is hot outside.” He tells her. “She should drink.”

You shake your head, “I am no longer thirsty. I am fine. Thank you.” You say, hating the disgusted look on your sister’s face as she stares at you before she looks at Marcus, a soft smile on her face as she reaches up to caress his arm. Marcus stares at you for another moment then he sighs and sets the pitcher down. “I would like some, Maritus.” Your sister coos and Marcus sighs, “we are not yet married, Ceres.” He says and she huffs, “not yet.” You grip your cup and Ceres rolls her eyes, “I am going to find the cheese we bought from the market.” She says and stands up, making her way out of the room. “Are you prepared for the wedding?” You ask Marcus after a very awkward moment that you stared at the table.

“As much as I can be.” He doesn’t sigh, but he wants to. “I saw you in the garden this morning.” He admits, smiling when you look up in shock. “I was running to stay fit for our next campaign.” He might have run along the garden walls so he could see you, having taken notice of how often you tend the plants in your father’s estate.

Your throat closes as surprise makes your heart thump and you lick your lips. “I like to grow vegetables and flowers.” You confess and Marcus smiles, “what’s your favorite?” You are surprised by the question and you tap your fingers against the cup, “my favorite flowers are lilies and I love grapes. Easy to grow here.” You hum, “when do you deploy?” You ask and he sighs, “two days after the wedding.” Your eyebrows raise, “so soon. You won’t be able to enjoy married life.”

“I guess not.” He shrugs slightly, not really minding that. It’s not like he is a virgin, but he’s not been looking forward to fucking Ceres. She’s too self absorbed. “The emperor’s needs come before everything. Even a marriage.”

You nod, knowing that the emperor comes first, especially for the army. “That’s a shame.” You hum, knowing you aren’t upset that Marcus won’t be with your sister for long once they are married. “Ceres will be lonely without you there but she will be able to run your household.”

“My father will be happy.” The villa that had been a gift to Marcus as a wedding present wasn’t small, but it wasn’t as grand as some in the region. It was perfect for a newly wedding couple. “That will be good.” He murmurs. “And I was hoping…I was thinking maybe you’d like to stay in the villa with Ceres when I am gone. She will be all alone and I want her to have company.” He says and you look up at him again, eyes wide, “you want me to- to keep her company?” You ask and he nods, “I- wow. That’s very generous of you.” You say as Ceres comes back with cheese and grapes in a bowl.

“What are you talking about?” Ceres demands, unhappy that Marcus is far more social with you than he is with her. She is going to be his wife. Although she brushes off the annoyance by thinking that he might just be too shy to talk to her because of her beauty. Marcus turns to her and wishes again that he had not helped her that day. “I was telling your sister that I wish for her to stay with you in our home when I leave for my next campaign.”

Ceres beams, excited to be a wife and running a household for a man that will become very important in Rome. “That sounds perfect, amor.” She coos and leans in to kiss his cheek. You avert your eyes, knowing you’re going to see more affection between them once they are married. 

**** 

“You may kiss your bride.” The priest declares as everyone gathers in the front room of your villa. The space has been decorated with silks and flowers, fruit bowls on display with copious amounts of wine. You look down at the marble beneath your feet as Ceres throws her arms around Marcus to kiss him, unconcerned for the family members in the room. “Congratulations.” You tell them once they have signed the marriage contract and your parents have spoken to them.

“Thank you.” Marcus smiles at you, thinking that you look beautiful in the silky, flowy dress that you had chosen for today and the flowers that are tucked into your hair makes you look serene. Again, he wishes that you were the one that he had been allowed to marry, instead of Ceres. Her simpering and batting her lashes at him throughout the morning had annoyed him.

Ceres wraps her arm around his waist, “my handsome husband.” She coos and caresses his cheek with her other hand, “maybe when you’re staying with us, you can work on eating less and then maybe you’ll find a husband.” She says and you inhale sharply, “perhaps.” You choke out, feeling that suffocating sensation in your chest when your sister drags her eyes along your form, knowing she’s assessing every flaw.

“You should be nicer to your sister.” Marcus chides softly, frowning at his new wife. “She does not need to change.” Ceres scoffs and rolls her eyes but Marcus doesn’t relent. “I would not allow a soldier under me to talk about someone else that way.” He tells her.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier, I’m your wife, and I’ll be under you in a different way tonight.” She giggles and you sigh, “I’m going to get some air.” You make your way through the villa to stand outside, wrapping your arms around yourself, and you look up at the stars with tears in your eyes. Ceres has gotten what she wanted. Just like it has always been.

Marcus huffs and drops his hand from Ceres’ waist. “I’m going to get a drink.” He murmurs, unsure why two women raised in the same household could be so different.

**** 

You look up at the villa that will be your new home until Marcus returns from battle, and sigh. Ceres will be torture to live with but the freedom you’ll gain being away from your parents has you willing to endure her venom. She grins when she sees you, married life clearly suiting her as she comes over to hug you. “Welcome sister. Isn’t this marvelous?” She gestures to the villa, “of course once Marcus is promoted, we will be moving to. A bigger home.” She says like it’s inevitable and perhaps it is but you hate how she always wants more. “Where’s Marcus?” You ask and she takes your arm, “he’s packing his bags. He will be departing shortly. He slept in this morning. We had a rigorous night of lovemaking and I think I wore him out.” She giggles and you frown, trying to block out the thought of her and Marcus in bed together. “He was very enthusiastic. In fact he finished inside me-” She grins and you are grateful that the man himself appears and stops her from continuing her story. Marcus says your name as your eyes meet his and your heart flutters in your chest. “Good morning, Marcus.” You smile at him, “you ready for your departure?”

“I am.” Marcus nods as he is struck by how pretty you are. It had been difficult to take Ceres to bed and he had thought of you while he had been inside her. Your sweetness, your softness was what he wanted. Not the vain and selfish ways of your sister. She did not care about anyone but herself and that was obvious by her being unwilling to learn how to pleasure him.

“I am sure you will miss your wife during your journey. I will make sure she is taken care of.” You promise him, wanting him to know that someone with sense is left in charge of his household. Ceres will spend his coin like there’s no tomorrow. He nods, “I appreciate that.” Ceres scoffs, “I don’t need anyone to look after me but I appreciate your care, sister.” She scoffs and reaches for Marcus. “I am leaving now.” He announces and she grabs his face to drag him towards her, her lips pressing against his. You avert your eyes to give them a moment but you don’t notice Marcus doesn’t close his eyes, he watches you. “I shall miss you dearly, amor.” Ceres coos, caressing his cheek.

You watch him go, your heart aching, and you decide to rush out to him as he’s about to step into the carriage. “May the gods bring you home safe and healthy. We shall miss you.” You tell him even though it’s only you who will miss him. Despite it being a short time that you’ve known him, he’s buried in your heart and you’ll carry him with you always. He nods, his dark eyes burning into yours, and he stares at you for a moment before he gets into the carriage. You watch it as it disappears down the cobbled street before you make your way back inside. “What was that about?” Ceres asks with a scoff, “I wanted to tell him that I’d ensure your happiness and safety during his absence.” You lie and she scoffs again, “like you’d make me happy. Go fetch me some wine. That would make me happy.” You nod and follow her order, knowing you’ll do whatever it takes to ensure Marcus returns to a well run home. 

**** 

“Oh I have wonderful news!” Ceres grins as she comes into your bedroom, her robes swaying around her feet. “Oh?” You ask, looking up from your scroll. “I am with child.” She declares and your jaw drops. “You’re - wow. Con- congratulations, sister.” You tell her and she spins around, “I shall send word to Marcus to inform him of the good news. Hopefully that will guarantee his safe return home with the news of his son being born.” You don’t argue and say she doesn’t know if it’s a boy yet but you hum, “I’m sure he will be ecstatic.”

Marcus sighs as he reads the message. He had tried not to spill inside Ceres, but he had not been quick enough to pull out in time. Now she is expecting his child. The news should be joyous, but he is dreading returning home and pretending to be happy. His father has sent word that his wife is not very prudent with his coin, spending lavishly. He wonders if you are helping her spend, or if your time has been spent in the villa’s gardens like it had been when you were at your father’s home. “Major.” His attention is taken by the soldier entering his tent to remind him that it is time and he nods. “I am coming.” He looks down at the message again and leaves it on his desk. He cannot worry about that now, the last day of the war has just begun.

Your sister is near to giving birth and she has made your life hell. Sending you all over town to fetch the things she craves, spending coin like it will disappear despite you warning her to be more conservative with her husband’s money. She has no concern about that. “He will make more.” She said flippantly and you couldn’t argue. You’ve spent your days in the garden, growing vegetables and flowers. The summer sun has led to the garden flourishing and you are glad to have contributed to making the villa a home for Marcus to return to. You are in the gardens when you hear the carriage pull up outside, trunks being carried, and you scramble onto your feet. Your robes are dirty with soil but you rush through the home, your sandals flopping against the marble as you run towards the front door where Marcus stands, returned from war. “You’re back.” You declare breathlessly, a wide grin on your face as you stare at him.

You are a sight for sore eyes and he smiles back at you, pulling you in for a tight hug. There had been close calls and new scars he now carries on his body. “You have been well?” He asks quietly in your ear before he pulls back. “You are more beautiful now than when I left.” His smile slips into a frown. “Has your father made a match for you?”

You shake your head, “no. He thought it was best for me to remain with Ceres while she is pregnant. I trust you heard the news?” You ask and he nods, “yes. Ceres sent word.” He says but he doesn’t sound happy about it. “She’s due any day.” You inform him, “and she’s anxious for your return.”

“Then it is good I made it back before she gave birth.” Marcus says woodenly. He doesn’t feel connected to this baby or his wife, but he watches you closely.

As if on cue, Ceres’s scream echoes in the villa and your eyes widen as you rush to find her. She’s hunched over the chair in her bedroom, heaving in a breath and water on the floor. Your eyes widen, “you’re in labor.” You rush over to her and turn to Marcus. “Find the midwife. She needs them.” You order and rub Ceres back as you try to get her on the bed. “Marcus? You’re back.” She gasps.

“I’m here.” He promises, eyes widening in surprise at how large his wife has grown with the baby. “Do you need anything?” He asks quietly, unsure of what she could possibly require but feeling compelled to ask.

“Just go fetch the midwife. Ask Antonia to find her.” You demand, helping your sister onto the bed and she cries out in pain. “It’s okay.” You promise, “it will be okay.” You are panicking a little and you watch Marcus leave to go fetch the housemaid before you let your sister squeeze your hand.

Marcus rushes off to find Antonia, although he’s not sure which one she is. He’s not spent much time in this house and he’s sure that someone else was in charge when he had left. Pointed in the right direction, he demands the midwife be sent for. “My wife is in labor.”

You fetch some water for your sister, allowing her to drink and to wipe her sweaty forehead as she grits her teeth through another pain. Marcus comes back in, feeling lost and unsure as he watches you pat Ceres’s forehead with a damp cloth. “The midwife will be here soon.” He promises and Ceres pants, batting your hand away. His eyes meet yours as you stand up and place the cloth back in the bowl, softening, and you don’t notice as you focus on your sister who says your name, “go. I want to speak with my husband.” You nod, making your way out of the room to give them privacy.

Marcus sits down and picks up the cloth to wipe her forehead. “Are you in a lot of pain?” He asks, concerned. He does not have a lot of experience with childbirth, none actually. The camp followers would deal with the bastards born in their own area, the mothers recovering in peace while still traveling along with the army.

She bats his hand away, “don’t touch me.” She hisses, “you’ve been away this entire time, leaving me with her.” She spits your name and Marcus frowns, “your sister…she seems to have looked after you.” He observes and Ceres shakes her head, “she’s been hovering around me. Getting me whatever I desire but she’s - the way you look at her.” She hisses through another contraction, “like she’s the moon and the stars. Like she’s - shit - like she’s Venus.”

“I haven’t been here to look at her.” He reminds you, but she shakes her head and shoots him a hateful glare. “The day we married, you were looking at her like she was the one you wanted to marry. The day you left, you smiled at her and barely kissed me goodbye.” Marcus looks away, feeling guilty because he knows that is true. “You are carrying my child.” He murmurs. “You are my wife, not your sister.”

“You’ve never looked at me like you look at her. Even on our wedding night, I thought I heard you moan her name but figured it was my imagination. I am the beautiful one. I am the one you should want. She’s nothing. Once the baby is born, she is to be sent away and you are never to talk to her, let alone look at her again.” Ceres demands, gripping her belly.

Marcus scoffs at how disgusting that she is talking about you. “You will not have any say in what she does.” Marcus reminds her. “Your sister isn’t married to me, you are. You got your way.”

“But I wanted all of you. I am giving birth to our child. You are mine. I want all of you, Marcus.” She pleads, “I want the General I was promised.” She demands and hisses as another contraction hits her, making her chest heave.

She is suffering and Marcus doesn’t want her upset while she is giving birth, even as difficult as she is. “You have me.” Marcus promises, reaching out and smoothing her hair away from her face. “I am here. Right beside you.” She doesn’t push him away this time and he takes that as a good sign. “You must relax. The midwife will be here soon.”

She grips his hand just as you enter the room with the midwife. “There now dear, I’m here. Let’s see what’s going on. Your little one is on their way.” She smiles as she sets her things down, “do we want the father here?” She asks Ceres, her eyebrows raised, and your sister nods as she grips Marcus’s hand. “Go fetch me cloths and warm water.” She orders you and you nod, rushing off to get what she wants.

Marcus doesn’t watch you leave the room, feeling Ceres’s eyes on him. Instead, he turns to watch her. Bringing the cloth up to bathe her head again. He doesn’t love her, but he owes her his loyalty. She is having his child. “Be strong.” He urges her softly, the same thing he would tell injured soldiers on the battlefield.

It seems like hours that Ceres is in labor. Her cries echoing through the villa and you stay away, having seen the look on her face when you entered the room. You hear her cries and you look out at the high sky, wondering how long she’s going to be laboring for.

“You must walk.” The midwife shakes her head and frowns as Ceres pants, leaning over the bed. “The babe is stubborn and will not come out.” Her worry is starting to grow, but she has not said anything so far. The girl is young and strong, she will be fine if she would just heed her advice. “Let me help you.” Marcus offers, taking hold of her waist.

Ceres cries out when she tries to move, her legs shaking as she stands up and when she does, she feels blood rush between her legs. Her hand slides under her gown and her eyes widen when she pulls her hand out and it’s covered in blood. “Oh gods.” She chokes, “I feel- I need to push.” She says, feeling the pressure between her legs and she wants to push.

“Shit.” Marcus scoops his wife up and carries her over to the chair that is used to bring children into the world. “Help her!” He demands, looking to the midwife for help.

The midwife looks pale as she comes over to Ceres. “You must push. On the count of three. Inhale deeply and push, dear.” She orders, rubbing her back as Ceres reaches for Marcus’s hand, squeezing as she starts to push.

“Push Ceres.” Marcus commands, holding her hand and the sudden dread washing over him nearly makes him sick. He can tell that the midwife is nervous, that she is unsure of what will happen. “Push our child into the world, wife.” He squeezes her hand gently.

She pants, squeezing his hand, and she pushes. Tries to push as hard as possible but the baby isn’t coming. “You need to push harder.” She urges and Ceres shakes her head, “I’m so tired. I can’t.” Marcus leans closer, “you have to.” She cries as she pushes, her scream echoing off the walls as she pushes until the babe slides free from her body. The cry doesn’t come and the midwife gathers the babe in her arms, patting their back to clear their airways and get them to cry.

"My baby." Ceres gasps, nearly slumping over on the seat until Marcus is holding her upright. Her eyes are rolling back in her head and it seems like the blood is still pouring out of her. "Ceres! Ceres! Stay awake!" He shouts, seeing her nearly slipping into unconsciousness.

She doesn’t respond and he lays her down on the bed, shaking her as she bleeds onto the sheets. “Wake up.” He demands, gripping her shoulders but she doesn’t respond. 

“You had a son, Major Acacius.” The midwife says, wrapping the unresponsive baby in the cloths just as you return to the room with hot water. Your eyes widen at the blood covering the marble floor, your sister on the bed, and the baby in the midwife’s arms that is not crying. “No. No. No.” You cry, rushing over to the bed to find your sister with a blank stare, glazed over. “Ceres. Please.” You beg, caressing her cheek. She may have not been the best sister but she’s still your blood.

Marcus almost refuses to believe this is happening. “The baby-“ he asks blankly and the midwife shakes her head. “Dead.” She murmurs softly, moving to place the small bundle beside Ceres and check her. It doesn’t matter now, she’s gone. The wife he has never cared for has died. Died knowing that he hadn’t loved her, that he had wanted someone else. The gods are cursing him for his selfishness.

You sob for the loss of your sister and the baby she carried. The midwife closes her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest while you cry, stroking her cheek. She may have been cruel but she was your blood. “Marcus.” You choke, reaching for his bloodied hand. “She’s - oh gods.”

Guilt claws at his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. The little bundle that holds the body of his son cradled against his mother’s body and he clenches his jaw to keep from weeping. Not because he loved Ceres or the child she carried, but because he had killed her. “Go- tell her father.” He chokes out to the midwife.

The midwife nods, rushing from the room to find your father and you brush the damp hair from Cere’s forehead with your other hand. You feel guilty for being so jealous of her and you look up at Marcus, “I’m so sorry.”

Marcus stares at the body of his wife, his child. “I- they are gone.” He can’t believe it. “She- I just got home. She was here.” He is trying to process it, but he’s having a hard time. The guilt of his actions weighing down on him.

You squeeze his hand, “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, knowing that he must’ve loved her and wanted her. If you could take her place, you would, so she could be the wife and mother she wanted to be. The midwife stands aside for several moments as you cry and Marcus stares in shock. “We will need to take the bodies soon. I’ll fetch for the undertaker.” She says, rushing out the room and she takes a moment. She’s seen many women die during childbirth but most men are devastated to lose their wives. Marcus Acacius seems indifferent.

“Was she- was she happy while I was gone at least?” Marcus asks, turning to you and his heart breaks to see the devastation in your eyes. The truth is, he didn’t know his wife. What he did know was shallow and spoiled so he had not had too favorable of an opinion of her. She still did not deserve to die. He can only hope that her months carrying the babe that ended her life weren’t miserable.

You nod, “she was. She was happy spending your coin and showing off her home, talking about her handsome new husband. She was talking about how wonderful life was going to be when you eventually became a senator after becoming general. She had hope for a glorious life.” You say bitterly, knowing she didn’t sit out and enjoy the sunshine. She was too busy worrying about what other people thought of her. “She was happy in the way she can be.” You add, shifting from the bed.

“At least she had some happiness.” He closes his eyes and sighs. This was not the way that he wanted to come back home. “I need a drink.” He admits hoarsely, but he still opens his eyes to stare at the bodies. “But I do not want to leave them alone. A boy?” He chokes out when he realizes what the midwife had told him. Ceres had given him a boy, a child. He moves over to the bed and touches the small bundle. “I had hoped that she would not get pregnant those two days we spent together.” He admits. “But the gods had other plans.”

“I can get you a drink.” You promise, shifting off the bed and you nearly slip in the pool of blood. “Take your time. Be with your family.” You walk around to rub his back, “you are not to blame, Marcus. The gods have their plans. As mysterious as they may be to us. She is in Elysian Fields now with your boy. She’s at peace.” You try to find comfort in that, knowing that your sister was not a nice person but you hope she’s at peace.

He feels like a fraud, but he nods and turns to watch as you slip out of the room. Turning back to Ceres, he sighs and wonders why he is not upset that she has died. He feels guilty, because it is his fault, he got her pregnant. But he will not miss her. “You should have married someone else.” He tells her body quietly. “Someone who would have treated you like you wanted. Who would have been here for you.”

**** 

Ceres was laid to rest with the child who was named Fabius on a cooler day, the sun shining in the sky, and Marcus was numb. He hardly spoke and you figured that was down to his guilt of not being there for his wife. Your father demanded you return home but you begged for him to let you stay with Marcus. “His villa needs to be maintained until he can find another wife. I would like to honor Ceres by maintaining the home she loved so dearly. At least until I have a prospect for marriage.” You tell your father who narrows his eyes but nods, allowing you to remain with Marcus who has been visiting the baths frequently, drinking wine, and staying away from you. Maybe it’s because you remind him of Ceres in a way. You don’t take offense and you are working in his garden when you look up to find him standing there watching you. “Marcus.” You gasp, shifting to stand with dirt on your robes, “you’re home.”

You have been such a quiet strength. Steady and sure. Beautiful and blooming everyday. More and more wine is needed to combat the guilt that curdles in his stomach, the need that makes his loins ache every time he sees you. “It should have been you.” He tells you thickly, the wine heavy on his tongue and addling his brain. He means that you should have been his wife, that you should be in his bed but it comes out accusatory.

Your eyes widen, your stomach twisting, and you flex your fingers, “me? You wanted - if I could’ve taken her place so you’d have your wife and son, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.” You promise with a choke, “she didn’t deserve that. Even if she was…I wish I was dead instead of her.” You declare, knowing he must look at you with resentment that you’re in his house and she isn’t.

“No!” Marcus frowns fiercely and grabs your arms, although he could never treat you roughly. He drags you closer to him, the wine on his breath washing over you. “You should have been mine. Not her.” He confesses right before he lunges forward and smashes his lips against yours with need and desire making him act foolishly under the inhibitions wine gives him.

You give in for a moment, leaning into his touch, and your hands grip his tunic, until you gasp and push him away. Your lips tingle and you shake your head, “you’re drunk and we - Ceres. We can’t do this.” You lower your hands from his tunic and step back, “I’m sorry.” You rush out before you run from the courtyard, your heart pounding.

Marcus calls out your name, feeling the loss of your warmth against him and feeling like he is about to collapse on the spot. You don’t want him and he has to live with that. Stumbling towards the villa, he decides to drink more to forget what your lips feel like under his.

**** 

You’d tossed and turned all night, not getting any sleep as you replayed the feel of Marcus’s lips on yours over and over again. They felt so perfect and the guilt rolls in your stomach again, making you nauseous. Ceres would kill you for kissing her husband. But Ceres isn’t here and Marcus is struggling. You dress and decide to find the man. He’s in the courtyard, fruit cut up on a plate for him along with cheese and meats and you approach him cautiously. “Marcus.” You murmur his name and he sighs, turning to look at you, “good morning.” You take a seat opposite him, picking up some berries. “About yesterday-” You begin but he cuts you off. “I’m sorry. I overstepped and I had too much to drink.” He explains and you reach for his hand, “it’s okay. I know you miss Ceres.” You squeeze his hand and he shakes his head, “you cannot miss someone you never truly knew.” He explains and you frown when he continues. “I feel guilty. I caused her death.” He says and you shake your head, “you didn’t cause her death. The gods wanted to take her. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” You promise, squeezing his hand again, “did you - yesterday you said it should’ve been me. I should’ve been yours. Did you- I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

He sighs, wishing that he had never said anything. He looks down at your hand in his and he can’t help but rub his thumb over your knuckles. “When your father approached mine about a marriage between Ceres and I, I told him that I wanted you.” He admits, glancing up at your eyes and then looking down at your joined hands. “I never wanted your sister.”

Your eyes widen, “me? But Ceres was the beauty. She reminded me of that every single day.” You scoff softly, knowing that you should be struck for speaking ill of your dead sister but her being gone doesn’t change the truth. “I wanted you. I - I tried to not be jealous but I was. She didn’t deserve you and I- I didn’t either but I wanted you. I want you.” You add, “it’s so wrong but I want you, Marcus. I love you.”

“I never loved her.” He admits in shame. “I love you.” He frowns. “I married her because my father threatened to disown me if I didn’t.” He swallows. “I want you.”

His words wash over you like sunshine and the guilt swirls in your belly but you can’t help yourself. You lean in to cup his cheek with your other hand, caressing it before you lean closer to softly kiss his lips.

His food is forgotten as Marcus drags you down into his lap. Your bigger size doesn’t bother him, in fact, he prefers the fact that his hands don’t fit around your thighs or waist. Deepening the kiss with a groan as he starts to harden underneath you.

You moan into his mouth, sliding your hand into his dark locks and you straddle him. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you are bold, sliding your tongue against his.

He tightens his grip on your body and pulls you closer, feeling more alive than he has since before his wedding day. His hands sliding over your back and down to your ass to grope it.

You grind down onto him, knowing you shouldn’t be doing this but it’s Marcus, the man you’ve loved for months and you want him. You want to be selfish after so long of putting other people first, like your sister.

His hands slip under your dress and he squeezes your thighs. Grabbing you greedily and gorging himself on your lush body. He breaks away from your lips and starts to kiss down your jaw, wanting all of you.

You gasp as he nips at your jaw, his hands sliding around to squeeze your bare ass and his calloused hands make your heart pound in your chest. “Marcus. I haven’t - I’ve never- but I want you. I want to give you all of me.”

You are untouched. Marcus pulls back and stares at you in wonder. “Are you sure?” He asks. “There is no taking it back.”

You nod, caressing his chest over his tunic, “it’s yours. No matter what happens. I’m yours, Marcus. I always have been. That’s why I wanted to stay here and help Ceres. Even if you weren’t mine, I wanted to be yours.” You confess, kissing your jaw.

Marcus is strong. He has pushed catapults and wagons that have been stuck in mud. He guides your legs around his waist and picks you up from his lap, chuckling when you gasp and cling to him. “I have you.” He promises. “You are perfect for me.”

You are shocked at the way he picks you up but you’d be lying if it doesn’t make your stomach clench in arousal at how strong he is. He carries you through the villa and you kiss along his neck, “my room.” You order, not wanting him to take you in the bed he shared with Ceres. He grunts in agreement and soon you are in your bedroom. He doesn’t put you down, he spins and presses you against the wall, his lips against yours within seconds and you gasp his name into his mouth.

Marcus grinds against you, pressing you into the cool wall and twitching against your core through the thin layer of his tunic. He could merely pull himself out from under the fabric and push inside you, but you deserve more than that. He drags down the top of your dress and kisses down your throat before he takes a nipple in his mouth to feast on your sensitive bud.

Your gasp echoes off the marble walls as he bites down on your nipple, your fingers tangling in his hair and your thighs tightening their grip around him. “Marcus!” You cry out, back arching to push more of your breast into his hungry mouth.

He loves your innocent cry, spurring him on and his headache is banished by the arousal that is coursing through his body. Sucking on the stiff peak and then laving it with his tongue before he is turning his attention to the other breast. Loving how sweet you taste.

Your hands caress his back as he takes what he wants from you and your legs shake when he sets you on the ground. “What-?” You gasp but he’s kneeling and shoving your robes up, exposing you to the arm before his face is buried between your thighs. You cry out and subconsciously lift your leg up onto his shoulder to grant him more room as he slides his tongue through your folds.

He never pleasured Ceres like this, never wanted to. But he had obsessed about the way you would feel and taste. His encounters with the camp whores were all women that looked like you and he could pretend he was with you. He had let one teach him how to pleasure her with you in mind even though he would never have imagined actually getting to touch you.

Your eyes flutter closed and you tangle your fingers in his hair as he slides his tongue into your cunt. You’re dripping wet with desire for him and you moan his name when he slides his tongue up and sucks on your clit. It’s intoxicating, like too much wine, and your stomach twists with arousal as he tastes you.

Marcus groans, completely obsessed with the way your cunt leaks for him. Flowing like a river and dripping onto his chin. He holds onto your hips and pushes his tongue deeper inside you.

You moan at the way he seems ravenous for you. His fingers digging into your flesh makes you whine and you rock your hips down to grind against his chin. “Fuck.” You curse, unable to stop yourself as you are devoured by him. “Oh gods. I- my stomach.” You moan, the sensation unfamiliar.

He growls into your folds, wanting to see you come apart for him, wanting to experience it. He doubles down on his efforts to make you cum, feeling your legs shake as you try to stay upright.

The whine that escapes your lips is almost inhuman and you gasp when he sucks on your clit again. It’s a sensation that has your chest heaving and you tug on his hair until finally, the high hits you. Your thighs shake against his head and you gush against his tongue while you cry out his name, head thrown back to hit the wall as pleasure overwhelms you.

Sweet as honey. Marcus laps at you frantically as you coat his tongue in your arousal. Working you through it and wanting every drop that he can get.

You slump over him, unable to help yourself as he works you until you are gasping for breath. “Marcus.” You whine, lowering your shaky leg and you shift to kneel, pushing his body back so you can press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth to sample yourself from him.

Marcus groans, letting you explore his mouth and taste yourself. His cock is throbbing but he isn’t rushing this. He doesn’t want it to end. “Bed.” He pants out when you pull away.”

You reluctantly stand up, taking his hand to guide him to the bed and before you do, you reach for the hem of his tunic. Your eyes meet his and he nods as you lift it over his head, exposing his body to your eager gaze. "Marcus." You moan, your hand immediately wrapping around his hard cock.

Marcus shivers, knees trembling at your inexperienced touch. “You are so beautiful.” He growls, watching you as you explore his cock. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen a man, let alone touched one.

You are entranced by him, the first time you've ever seen a man naked like this beyond the time you accidentally stumbled into the men's baths. You pump him, admiring the ridges and veins of his length. Thick in your grip, you look at him until he leans in to kiss along your throat, his hand reaching for the pin that keeps your dress together.

“I will be gentle.” He promises as he unpins your dress and lets it fall to the floor. Leaving you bare and he groans when he sees your nude body bare before him. “Fuck,” he hisses, twitching in your palm and leaking a heavy dribble of pre-cum from the purple head of his cock.

You swallow harshly, nervous that he doesn't like what he sees. You release his cock to cover your breasts, your arm crossing your stomach as you cross your legs. "I- I am not - I am not like Venus." You confess, knowing that your sister was much thinner and less curvy.

“You are better than all the goddesses.” Marcus breathes out, eyes drinking in your perfect form and he reaches for you. Pulling your arms away from your body. “Perfect. Beautiful. Luscious.” He pants slightly. “I have never seen anything more stunning than you.”

You inhale sharply at his words, your heart pounding and you offer him a breathless smile. “Marcus. I need you.” You plead, shifting to lay down on the bed and you drag him with you as you settle on the sheets.

This is the wedding night he had imagined. The woman he had wanted in his bed. Marcus presses his lips to every single part of your body that you had covered in embarrassment. Making sure that you understand how much he loves your body. “I love you.” He groans, settling between your thighs.

You caress his arms up to his shoulders and around his back as he grips his cock. Your nails dig into his flesh as he starts to push into you, “I love you.” You gasp, throwing your head back at the intrusion and you hiss at how he stretches you.

Marcus had taken Ceres with a sharp determination. Eager to get the act over with, but now he takes his time. The slow roll of his hips seems to take forever as he presses his lips to your exposed throat. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses in pleasure. “So right.”

He stretches you out and seems to pull you apart as he pushes deeper until he’s pressed as deep as he can go. The sting of him pressing through your innocence was minor and you tilt your head to press your lips to his again as you adjust to his girth. “Marcus.” You plead against his chin, “take me. I’m yours.” You vow, wanting to feel him.

“Mine.” He growls, nodding as he starts to pull his hips back to move. “You are so perfect.” He hisses, loving how soft you are. How you cushion his body and take the smooth thrust so easily.

You feel surrounded by him and you lift your hips to wrap your legs around him, your heels pressing into his thighs. “Gods, this - you feel so good.” You moan, having heard about the pleasures of the flesh but you’ve never experienced it before. It’s overwhelming and incredible.

Marcus bites down on your neck, nibbling and sucking as he starts to set a steady rhythm as he rocks his hips. Working his cock in and out of your hot cunt. “You are amazing, better than I imagined.”

You moan when he thrusts deep and your hands slide up into his hair, dragging his face to yours so you can kiss him. Your tongue slides against his, gaining confidence as he moves inside you. “I’ve imagined you far too many times. Felt so guilty.” You admit, “but you’re mine now.”

Marcus closes his eyes, moaning at your confession. He imagines you in this bed, touching yourself as you whimper his name. Grabbing one of your thighs, he pushes it back towards your chest, thrusting even deeper as his hips slap against yours. “Always yours.” He groans, twitching deep when you clench around him. “Fuck.”

His words make your heart lurch and you kiss every piece of skin you can reach. You whimper and rock your hips up to meet his, “Marcus. You - gods. You feel like you’re in my throat.” You confess breathlessly, “it’s so good. Fuck. I- I love yo- oh!.” You moan when he hits something inside you that makes your walls flutter and his chuckle puffs against your chin. He focuses on that angle and each thrust takes your breath away. “Oh gods. I’m going to - Marcus! Marcus!” You cry before your mouth opens in a silent scream as he sends you over the edge in a tidal wave that soaks his cock.

His teeth snap together, barely holding onto his control as he fucks you through the first orgasm you’ve had on a man’s cock. You are so incredibly wet, the noises coming from him rocking into you sound so loud. “So good.” He pants. “So perfect.” He feels his own orgasm rocketing closer, but he braces his hands on the bed, wanting to pull free before he cums so he doesn’t plant a baby inside you.

You moan his name, wanting to see him fall apart above you, and you caress his chest, “want to watch your pleasure.” You tell him with a moan and he grunts as he thrusts into you a few more times before he’s pulling free of your cunt, a grunt escaping his lips as his cock jerks with streams of seed that splatter your folds and nestle in the curls between your thighs. You reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him to work him through it.

Marcus whines out your name, feeling that bliss that comes from sex, but it’s so much more. Rocking his hips into your hand and watching you touch him. “Fuck baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You promise him and he pants when you release his softening cock, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek so you can drag him towards you to kiss your lips. “I’ve always loved you since that day you carried Ceres home.” You promise, “I want to be yours, in every way.”

"I want that too." Marcus admits, although he feels guilty. "I hate that your sister died because of me, but I never loved her. I wanted you, from the very beginning. It is why I would always talk to you when you were chaperoning us."

You sigh, “I miss her.” You admit as he flops down beside you and pulls you into his side. You fling your leg over his, your hand caressing his chest. “I know.” He murmurs, knowing his guilt over losing his wife and child threatens to send him over the edge but you’ve kept him on stable ground. “Let us see what tomorrow brings. For now, I want to savor our time together.” You murmur, kissing his chest.

“I will talk to your father tomorrow.” Marcus tells you, his fingers stroking up and down your curves as he plans. He wants you to stay here, to be his wife. Especially now that he has touched you, gotten to have you. Once would never be enough. “He might wish for us to wait but I want him to know that I am honorable.”

You smile, shifting to look at him, “you want me to be your wife?” Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs playfully, “I love you. I just made love to you. I don’t want to stop making love to you. It’s the natural progression.” He says and you grin, letting him roll you over so his body is covering yours. “Your uxor.” You murmur, tracing his nose, and he kisses your fingertips when they brush his lips. “Mine.” He murmurs, leaning over to press his lips to yours.

The next day, Marcus has to drag himself from your bed. Only able to do so because of the promise of having you permanently. Going to speak to your father is troubling, he doesn’t look happy to see him and Marcus is nervous about the meeting. 

Your father looked up when Marcus was brought into the courtyard. The scrolls spread on the table before him and he doesn’t stand as the Major enters his home. “Acacius.” He greets him without his title, letting his distaste be known. “What do you want?” He asks and Marcus stands a little straighter. “I want to ask to marry your daughter.” He adds your name and your father’s eyes widen. “You want - she’s been staying with you to manage your household in your absence and I allowed her to remain there and you have the audacity to ask for the hand of my remaining daughter after you all but killed my other one?” He hisses, his eyes flashing, “do you wish to finish the job?”

The pang of guilt that fills Marcus crushes his heart, but he shakes his head. "Your daughter died in childbirth." He reminds your father. "Ceres wanted to be a mother and a wife. She was thrilled when she found out that she was carrying." He knows that he cannot blame himself in public for their deaths, not if he wants you. "I wish to the gods that their fate was different, but it was not."

“You have some gall, Acacius. Does my daughter know about your intentions?” He asks and Marcus nods, “she wishes to be my uxor.” He says and your father curls his lip, “foolish girl. Wanting to marry the first man that looks her way. If only she’d focus on eating less then maybe she’d find a man of higher status.” He hisses, “tell me…have you taken her?” He inquires, wanting to know if you are damaged goods.

Marcus frowns at the way that he speaks about you. He was good enough for Ceres but now he's not good enough for you? "I love her." Marcus admits. "She was the daughter I wanted from the very beginning. I knew that she was the one that made my heart beat."

Your father taps his fingers against the table, biting his lip until he looks at Marcus. “I will allow you to marry my daughter if you answer my question…have you taken her innocence?”

Marcus frowns slightly but he nods. "She was in my bed last night." He admits, thinking about how you had looked there. "I wish for her to be my uxor, and I will make sure that you do not lose another daughter to the birthing chair." He promises, knowing that you carrying his child will cause him to seek out the best midwives to care for you.

He hisses at hearing the confirmation of what he expected was the truth. "You have taken what wasn't yours to take but it is too late now. You will marry her." He demands, "and you will honor my daughter. I will not have her shamed. You will marry her in two weeks time, when your mourning period is complete and she will not be shamed for marrying you so soon after her sister died." He decides, "do you agree to these terms?

“I agree.” Marcus nods eagerly. “Ceres' memory will live on through your remaining daughter. She loved her sister and we will make sure that we live a life she would be proud of.”

Your father hums, standing up, and he steps towards Marcus with his hand out. "Do not let me down, Acacius." He demands and Marcus nods, "never. I will love and protect her." He promises and your father shakes his hand, his grip tight and almost painful but Marcus doesn't flinch. When Marcus returns, you are in the garden and quickly stand when he approaches you. "What did he say?" You ask, eager to hear good news. Marcus smiles, reaching for your hands, "he said yes." You squeal and cup Marcus's cheeks, leaning in to kiss him.

“I must go check in with the generals.” Marcus reminds you when you both finally come up for air several moments later. “We can celebrate when I return.” He must inform them that he will be marrying again. He doesn’t need to seek permission, but he has to let them know in case of his death.

You grin, excited to marry the man you love, and you peck his lips again as he steps back. He doesn’t get a chance to walk out the door when two soldiers appear on the doorstep. You frown, looking towards Marcus who looks confused. “What is going on?” He asks and the soldier hands him a scroll. You stand behind Marcus as he reads and finally, he turns to face you. “I am needed in battle. Tonight. I am ordered to leave with immediate effect.” Your eyes widen slightly and you shake your head in shock, “but we - how long will you be gone?” You ask and Marcus hands the scroll back to the soldier and walks back towards you. “I don’t know.” He says honestly and cups your cheeks, “I could be away a month. Or a year.” He admits, knowing that the battles can last months. “It’s a direct order from the emperor. I cannot deny it.” He says as he rests his forehead against yours. Tears sting in your eyes, knowing he’s being taken from you again. “I’ll be okay. I’ll maintain the villa and await your return so I can be your uxor.” You offer him a watery smile, trying to be strong.

“Stay here.” He nods in agreement. “You will be my wife as soon as I return and you have done well maintaining our home.” He praises, leaning in and cupping your cheek. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and presses his lips to yours.

You nod, a tight smile on your face, “I love you too.” You murmur, watching as he lets go of you and makes his way to the entrance, following the guards out of his home and leaving you standing there. Your dreams of him being your husband are delayed, but not shattered.

**** 

It’s been three years since Marcus has seen Rome. Three years since he had kissed you and walked away, hopeful to come home and marry you. He hasn’t heard from you, despite the messengers he had sent to his villa. He hadn’t even been allowed to go home before coming to visit the Emperor. He had been promoted to general while he was gone and he wearily wonders if the emperor would immediately send him off on another campaign or if he could finally fulfill his promise to you.

The fanfare is excessive and you are preparing yourself as you know who is making their way up the steps to greet the emperors. Your golden wreath and silk robes show your status and you are to be empress soon. Married to Geta in the coming weeks. The emperor had wanted a ceremony fit for the “greatest emperor Rome has ever had” and as such, the ceremony is still being planned. You stand tall, watching as the man you still love makes his way up the stairs until he comes into view. He looks older, more jaded, and you inhale sharply when you see him. His eyes are fixed on the emperors and your heart thumps in your chest, stopping when those dark eyes meet yours.

His eyes widen when he sees you. Still as beautiful as you were the day he left, maybe more so. Surprised to find you here and he almost moves towards you, ready to kiss you and gather you in his arms, but there is something in your eyes that makes him hesitate. A warning. He shifts back to Geta, and then towards you, trying to understand what is going on.

“Ah, General. Welcome home. Rome thanks you for your success. The emperors thank you for your success. Our future empress thanks you for your success.” He adds and smirks as he looks over to you. You move towards him and behind you is a little girl. She clings to your robes and Marcus’s eyes widen as you take her hand and walk towards Geta, taking his hand.

His world shifts and he stops breathing. The little girl is no more than a small toddler, a baby. He swallows harshly as he stares at the little girl and then back to you. Your eyes shift guiltily and he knows. The little girl is his. His heart pounds in his chest, but Geta is waiting and he nods. “It was my pleasure.” He croaks out. “For Rome.” There are many questions swimming in his head, but he doesn’t dare to ask them now.

"Perhaps the General would like to rest now. He's had a long journey to Rome and he is staying for the week of celebrations. He must require rest and wine." You murmur to Geta who is busy waving to the crowd. "You are quite right, my love. General, please rest. You'll be escorted to the rooms we have assigned you." Geta says and Caracalla smacks Marcus on the back, "go find a whore and celebrate our great victory." He grins and Marcus bows his head. He looks at you and you try to tell him with his eyes that you will find him and explain. There's so much to explain.

Being escorted through the halls of the large palace, Marcus tries to understand what happened. The child is his. He is certain, but why would the emperor marry a woman with a bastard? His stomach clenches in regret for not marrying you right away. He should have, that way you would not have been shamed while carrying his child. He wonders what your father had said, walking into the room he was given and sighing softly as the door closes behind him.

It takes a while for you to settle Ceres in her bed for her nap. The palace maids have offered to assist but you refuse, wanting to settle your daughter yourself. Once she's asleep, you make your way through the halls, knowing where Marcus is being housed, and you are wary as you look around before you knock on his door.

Marcus stares at the door for a moment, his pacing paused before he strides over to the door to open it. Seeing you, he steps back and opens the door wider in invitation rather than dragging you against him into the room like he wants to. He growls your name. “What the hell is going on?”

"I can explain." You rush out, sensing and then seeing his anger. "After you left...I found out I was with child and my father...he was furious. Refused to let me get word to you and ordered me to go to Rome to stay with his sister. I had the baby. A girl - and she - she's so much like you, Marcus." You offer him a soft smile. "I wanted to return to your home and wait for you with our child but - I didn't know - my father was arranging for me to marry the emperor. Geta had seen me when I was walking through the market and he - he inquired with my father about me. I have no clue why but he ordered me to the palace and proposed. I told him I was betrothed to you, even confessed about our daughter, but he didn't care. He has told everyone that the child is my sister's and you are the father. That I am caring for my niece. She isn't a threat to him, and he wishes for me to birth a boy for his successor. He cares little for the fact that I am no longer innocent, but I refused to marry him, then he - he threatened Ceres , he threatened our daughter, and I - I had to agree." You choke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rush to explain everything that has happened since the morning he left his home.

Marcus clenches his jaw, his hands curled into fists. You wouldn’t lie to him, it’s not the type of person you are. “You- you gave birth alone?” He demands, feeling nearly sick since your sister had died in childbirth. You must have been terrified. Shaking your head, you reach out and touch his arm. “My aunt and the midwives were with me.” You explain. “She is beautiful. Wonderful.” You smile and his anger crumbles, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “I am so sorry I was not here, amor.” He swallows harshly, knowing that you cannot be his now. All his dreams have been crushed.

You sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. You have felt so alone since the time he left. You've fought for your daughter and your life and you are exhausted. His arms wrap around you and you finally feel like you're home. "I don't want to marry Geta. I love you. It's always been you, but Ceres - I would give my life to save hers."

Marcus can’t kiss you, you would both be killed for betraying the emperor. “You did the right thing.” He promises, running his hands up and down your sides. He had hoped you would be safe in his home, but apparently not. “The villa?” He asks.

“Your father is managing it. He - he spoke with my father and they decided to send me away and I think your father hoped to find you another wife when the time came.” You reveal, your hand finding his chest, wishing you could feel his heart but it’s covered by the armor.

He snorts and shakes his head. “I listened to his choice the first time.” He tells you. “He has no say in who I marry now.” He wishes that were you; but now you have Geta.

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, “this is so unfair.” You choke and slide your hand up to his cheek again. “I want to be yours but he has promised me that Ceres will want for nothing. He has promised a dowry beyond anything I could offer so she can be married to a good man.”

Marcus shakes his head, knowing that you might have thought he was dead. Or he could die, the gods know how he had almost been killed many times. “You did nothing wrong.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. “We are just….star crossed.” He sighs as he pulls back. “You will be the empress of Rome. I am just one of her generals.”

“I don’t want to be empress. I want to be yours.” You choke, surging forward to hover your lips against his but he doesn’t close the gap. You sob and shift away from him, “I will- I need to go back to Ceres.”

Marcus lets you pull away, not pulling you back against him. He swallows harshly as you turn towards the door before he softly says your name. Watching as you freeze and turn back towards him. “I never stopped loving you.” He promises. “I’m sorry I took too long to come home.”

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “me too. Perhaps we will be together in another life.” You murmur and open the door, stepping out before anyone notices and you make your way back to your room, your heart breaking with each step away from Marcus. 

**** 

You sip your wine, lost in your thoughts as the emperors argue in front of you. Ceres is with her nanny and you would rather be with her than sitting watching two grown men argue about what piece of land to conquer next. Marcus is sitting opposite you, the map of the empire laid out before you on the table and you aren’t thinking when you set your cup down and it tips, spilling wine over the map. “You need to pay more attention, you useless whore. That map will take months to recreate.” Geta strides over to you, his hand raised and he doesn’t think as he strikes you, his palm slapping your cheek. The sting makes your head fuzzy but this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

Marcus clenches his fist in anger, barely restraining himself from lunging at the emperor. He knows that he would be struck down by the guards around the room if he tried to attack the man for hitting you. “Blood often obscures our maps on the battlefield, emperor.” He tells them. “I can get our scribe to fix it.” He sends the men a tight smile. “You can claim it came from your latest victory.”

You don’t rub your cheek, knowing that will be seen as a weakness so you sit still, blinking to stop the tears pooling in your eyes. “Very well. I appreciate the offer, General. Now, what are your thoughts of venturing more into Africa to continue our conquests?” Geta asks. You look over at Marcus who has his jaw clenched and you refill your empty cup, needing something to drink. Geta has often told you about how attractive he finds you. You are like a goddess according to him but he never makes you feel worshiped. He’s hit you several times when you don’t please him and you endure it, knowing you have no choice, and you cannot allow him to inflict his hand on your daughter. “I’m sorry, Caesar.” You bow your head and he hums, caressing your sore cheek. “You must learn, dear one. I need a loyal and obedient empress.” He reminds you and leans in to softly kiss your lips while you try not to flinch.

Marcus clears his throat. “Africa will be a challenge against our army.” Marcus admits as he points towards the coast. “There are many fortified cities and they will have many defenses against invasions from the sea.” He can’t concentrate on you, knowing it would be dangerous to show the emperors that he has feelings for you. “We do not want a war that your children will still be fighting when they come to the throne.”

Caracalla growls and shakes his head, “who cares if we are fighting for 100 years? It is our duty to make Rome great and that includes adding to our empire.” Geta tuts, “now brother. We must control our urges. Less we destroy Rome in the process. Perhaps the General can suggest another area we can fight for?” He looks over at Marcus with his head tilted.

Marcus clenches his jaw and sighs. “Here.” He points to a cluster of Isles on the map. “There would be a good stronghold for Rome.” He decides. “We could position our troops and leave a permanent garrison.”

Geta nods, “that would be ideal. Create a naval base there.” He is intrigued, “brother?” He asks looking at Caracalla who is poking between you and Marcus with a funny look on his face. “It would be most advantageous.” He agrees after a moment.

Marcus nods. “We will need to send scouting ships first.” He informs them. “Send back detailed reports. See if they can land a small party to survey the best places to land.”

You watch the emperors absorb his words and you sigh, wishing your cup was refilled. “See it is done. I want to move as fast as possible.” Geta orders and he strides over to you. “I’m sorry, my love. Forgive my hand.” He coos, gripping your chin and he leans in to kiss you. You try not to recoil as his lips press against yours.

Marcus has to look away. His eyes dropping back to the map as he pretends that he’s unaffected by the sight of you kissing someone else. He wonders if you’ve been in Geta’s bed, although that’s not fair to you. He had left without marrying you. Hoping to be home quickly and he hadn’t. He had left you alone to give birth to his daughter.

You smile at Geta after he pulls away, “emperor.” You murmur and he grins, “my empress. Soon.” He promises and you nod, watching Geta move towards the stained map. “Speak to the others. Get this into action.” He tells Marcus who nods, “of course.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully to both of the emperors and then to you. His eyes meet yours briefly before he spins on his heel and marches out of the room. Eager to get away from the emperor before he does something to make him suspicious.

**** 

You are in the gardens with Ceres when you see Marcus walking through the vegetables you’ve been growing since you arrived at the palace. It calms you and allows you to think about anything other than your fate. Ceres runs around, giggling as she enjoys the fresh air and you freeze when Marcus spots you. His eyes immediately went to Ceres.

His daughter. Marcus watches the young girl, wishing that he could scoop her up, introduce himself to her as her father, but he can’t. He says your name when he finally looks away from her towards you. “It seems you still enjoy the gardens.”

You smile, brushing your dirty hands on your dress as you stand, “it’s peaceful. It feels like home.” You admit, “and I like the escape from the emperors.” You confess, glancing around. “Ceres. Come here.” You call your daughter over and she rushes over, giggling as she plucks a flower. “Ceres.” You pick her up and she looks at you, “this is your father. Your pater.” You say and she looks at Marcus, “pater?” She tilts her head and you brace yourself for Marcus’s response.

Marcus looks around in surprise, but the guards are too far away to hear the conversation. He murmurs your name in caution but you tilt your head. “People believe she is my sister’s daughter.” You remind him and he nods, stepping forward and kneeling down in front of the young girl. “Pater.” He confirms solemnly, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I was away for a long time, but I am home now.”

Ceres grins, excited to meet her father. You’ve always told her about him, told her stories of how brave he is, and she doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “Pater.” She says excitedly and leans back to kiss his cheek.

Marcus holds her tight, closing his eyes so he doesn’t cry at the simple acceptance the baby in his arms provides. He swallows and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you with tears of your own. “How old are you Ceres?” He manages, his voice rough with emotion.

Ceres pulls back to look at him, confused at the question and you chuckle, “she’s two.” You stroke her back as Marcus holds her and you see the emotion in his eyes. “Everyone thinks she is yours. Everyone thinks she was conceived during wedlock. She’s safe and she’s provided for. That’s all I want is for her to have everything I can give her.” You explain, “you can be her father in public.”

“But she calls you her mother?” He asks, wanting to understand the dynamics of your situation. “Yes, but that is because I am all she knows.” You explain and he agrees that it is a good explanation. “Do you- I don’t want to take her from you.” Marcus murmurs softly.

“You won’t. You’re her father. She needs her father in her life.” You say, “no one expects you to stay away. As far as everyone is concerned, she is not a bastard and she is my niece. It’s safer this way.” You assure him with a smile, “I want you to be in her life. In our life.”

“I wish I had married you before I left.” Marcus murmurs quietly, Ceres distracted by the emblem on his cuffs and not paying attention to the adults' conversation. “Your father wanted me to wait until the mourning period was over.”

You scoff, “he wanted you gone. As soon as you left, he was trying to get me in the emperor’s sights. Ceres was more likely to win his affection in my opinion but apparently he prefers women with more curves. Until I found out I was with child and my father sent me away.” You confess, “he never planned to allow me to marry you. He spoke with his contacts to ensure you were sent to war.”

Marcus hisses in anger, knowing now why other men had been rotated home and he never got the chance until he had been promoted to general. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I would-“ he bites his lip, knowing such comments are treasonous. “I wish things were different.” He admits softly. “If anything, I wish you were happy with your life.”

You swallow harshly, feeling the tears sting in your eyes, “we didn’t - we weren’t meant to be. If Ceres has an incredible life, then I’ll be happy.” You confess, “it’s all for her.” You smile at your daughter.

Ceres has ended up curled against his chest when she loses interest in playing with his clothes. Smiling back at her mama and slowly starting to close her eyes. Apparently Marcus is comfortable and she feels safe enough to go to sleep. “Would you marry him if you had any other choice?” He asks quietly, glancing around.

You glance around and look back at him, “I don’t want to marry him. I wouldn’t if I had another choice but I need to protect Ceres and I have no funds. If I didn’t marry him, I’d have nothing and my father will not help provide for Ceres. I’d have no home. No coin. I’d be all alone.” You confess, “and that scares me.”

“You wouldn’t be alone.” Marcus promises immediately. “She is my daughter and she will have everything I possess.” He licks his lips and looks at you softly. “Just like you will. I - I will care for you and provide for you if you choose not to marry him.”

Tears escape your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, “I have no choice. You know he’d rather kill me than let me go. No one says no to the emperor.” You whisper, “I still love you, Marcus. I never stopped. I’d marry you this second if I could.”

Marcus sighs softly and nods. “I know. If it were possible, I would say that we leave.” He wishes that the fates were different, but they aren’t. “Has Geta-“ he breaks off, unsure if he wants to know.

You shake your head, “no. No. He wants - he wants everyone to believe that I’m pure so there’s no question about his heir. Even if it were in private. Thank the gods.” You sigh, “and Ceres is well cared for.” You add, knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re resigned to your fate and tortured by the man you love standing in front of you.

Marcus feels guilty and he wraps his arms around his daughter. “I will always love you.” He promises, “I never stopped in all the time we have spent apart.”

Your heart breaks and you nod, “we were never meant to be.” You smile sadly as the guards approach and Marcus keeps his hold on Ceres. They say your name and you stand a little straighter, “the emperor is requesting your presence. Without the child.” He adds and you frown, “I will need to return her to her room then I will join the emperor.” You say and they nod, walking off. You sigh and look to Marcus, “Ceres, say goodbye to your father. We must go.” You order and she pouts, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Bye bye.” She says and you take her hand after Marcus releases her with a “bye, puella.” He smiles and you guide her through the gardens, looking over your shoulder at him as he stands there watching you leave

Marcus sighs as you walk out of sight. He still has not been able to leave the palace, but he has sent word to his father. Wanting the estate to be prepared for his arrival after so long away from home. The elder man had not sent any message back, so he was uncertain if it had even arrived.

**** 

You stumble down the hall, your robes ripped and blood dripping from your nose as you blindly reach for the door that leads to the rooms where Marcus is staying. It’s been two weeks since he arrived and he’s spent a lot of time in the gardens with Cere, bonding with her, and you’ve allowed him the time. You’re confused about why he’s still here when the emperors want to send him out for more conquests but he’s here and you want him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Geta had called you to his rooms and you’d been curious. He’s kept himself busy with his whores and orgies and you have been happy that he hasn’t approached you even though your wedding day is quickly approaching. You bang on the door of Marcus’s room, your head fuzzy, and you feel sick.

Marcus frowns when he hears the frantic banging on the door, moving over from where Ceres is napping to fling it open. His eyes widen and he lunges forward to catch you before you collapse in a heap in front of his door. Exclaiming your name, he glances down the hall and listens for any sign of attack. “What happened?” He demands, pulling you inside and barring the door just in case there is some kind of uprising. The city has been uneasy and there has been a growing discontent amongst the people due to Geta and Caracalla’s endless spending on the war machine of Rome.

You cling to him, shaking in his arms, “Geta. He- oh gods, Marcus. He wanted me to- I said no and he-” Marcus holds you, “breathe. You need to breathe for me.” He demands and you inhale shakily. “Geta wanted to fuck me before the wedding and I couldn’t - I said no so he - he grabbed me and I fought. He hit me and slapped me and called me - called me a whore. Said he couldn’t - that I gave it up for you but not the emperor. I thought he was going to kill me but I managed to get away.” You rush out, your lungs stinging with the need to breathe.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and shakes his head in anger. “I’ll kill him.” He growls but you grab his arm. “Don’t- you will be killed.” You gasp, and he knows you are right, he would be struck down by Geta’s personal guard. “We will leave.” Marcus tells you instead, grabbing a cloth from the table to wet with water from the pitcher he had for Ceres. He wipes the blood off your face gently. “Now. We will take our daughter and leave Rome right now.”

You have to get away. Geta has hit you more times than you’d care to admit to Marcus and you couldn’t survive a marriage to him. Especially if he could go as far as to try and force himself on you. You are exhausted from fighting but you know you don’t have a lot of time. “We need to leave as soon as it’s dark. They will come for me again. He will want to apologize. That’s what he’s done before.” You confess and Marcus growls, “he’s tried to-?” You cut him off, “not - he just hit me when I did something wrong or I put Ceres before his needs.” You confess, “we need to go. Tonight.”

Marcus grits his teeth together, trying hard to keep from squeezing your arms in his own fit of anger. “Can you pack anything or would you rather leave it all behind?” He asks and you shake your head. “I could not get anything out of the palace without someone seeing.” Marcus rocks his jaw. “I will order a carriage to take my belongings to the villa tonight.” He decides. “You and Ceres will hide in the trunks. Dress her in multiple layers, yourself too.” He explains. “Only what you can wear on your body. My trunks will be handled with care by the men.”

You nod, knowing you need to take Ceres away from this place. All the coins in the world cannot make you stay in this place with the monsters who lead the empire. You can't help yourself as you surge forward to press your lips to Marcus's, adrenaline rushing through you.

He worries that you will hurt yourself, your face sore from Geta’s attack. “Amor.” He pulls back and searches your beautiful, swollen face. “We don’t have to do anything, I will get you away from here.” He promises.

You nod, feeling rejected but later when you think about it, you’ll appreciate his clear mind when you were all over the place. “I know. I- I love you.” You caress his cheek and look over at Ceres. “She looks so much like you when she sleeps.” You smile, wincing at the way your face aches.

“Have some wine.” Marcus urges, guiding you over to a chair and then rushing over to pour you a cup. “I love you, sweetheart. I will make sure that you escape this place.” He promises as he brings the cup to you. “You and our daughter. We can go to my villa and then I will make plans for us to leave Rome

You take the wine and down it, hands shaking and you know you can't take anymore from Geta. You look at Marcus after glancing at Ceres. "Get us out of here." You demand and he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You grip his forearm and lean against him, breathing him in.

He doesn't want to leave you, but he has to make arrangements. He needs to speak to the few officers that he trusts. Making plans to make sure that you get out of the city to his villa safely. Once you are there, he will still have to move quickly, but he will leave Rome behind with you and Ceres. Making a life together after so much time apart.

**** 

You wait for the knock at your door, Marcus told you the plan after you’d left his rooms with Ceres in your arms. It’s dark and you wrap the cloak around you and Ceres as you gather what you can carry on you and make your way to the door. A man stands there and you narrow your eyes at him, “he said the word was ‘lilies’ .” You nod, knowing that Marcus used your favorite flower as a code word, and you follow the man through the halls and out into the shadowed alleys of the palace.

Octavius is nervous as he guides you out of a side courtyard door that is suspiciously unguarded. His faith in his general is unwavering, but he knows that you are Geta’s intended empress. The door swings open silently to reveal the wagon loaded down with trunks on the other side of the thick wall. “Hurry.” He moves to the back and opens the largest truck to reveal that it is empty besides a thick fur for comfort.

You eye the trunk, nervous but you need to do this to save yourself and save Ceres. You get into the trunk and reach for Ceres. The guard places Ceres in the trunk and closes the lid. “Mama.” She whimpers and you stroke her hair, “it’s okay, my darling.” You coo, kissing her hair.

Every soldier loyal to him surrounds the wagon. Marcus himself is cloaked so he will not be recognized by the guards as they start to slowly travel down the narrow alleyway, away from the palace. His hand grips his sword under his cloak, ready to pull it from the sheath if one of the centuries moves wrong.

You are anxious, heart pounding as the wagon rolls you and Ceres from the palace. The noises make your stomach twist and you’re so nervous to escape. You trust Marcus but you don’t trust the palace, the guards. “It’s okay.” You murmur to Ceres, “it’s okay.”

It takes nearly two hours to slowly travel to his villa and Marcus frowns when he sees the overgrown tangle of vines and dead vegetation. It looks like the home has been abandoned since he had left to go to war. "Damnit." He hisses when the wagon pulls to a stop and he hops down. "Clear the house, find wood for a fire." he instructs his men before he strides to the back of the wagon and starts to open the trunk.

You look up, blinking at the brightness of the lanterns, and you inhale deeply, praying you’re safe. “It’s okay.” Marcus promises and you shake Ceres, waking her up. “Wake up, amor. We are home.” You murmur, rubbing her back as she wakes up and looks up at Marcus. “Pater.” She mutters, reaching for him.

Reaching down into the trunk, he easily lifts her out and then sets her against his shoulder. "Let's get mama out." He murmurs, offering you his hand as you sit up. "The villa is abandoned." He tells you quietly. "We might be safe here for a day or so, but I will need to find us a ship leaving port tomorrow."

You get out of the trunk, hand shaking in fear that the emperors have found you. “They will know I am gone by now.” You choke out, “we must leave as soon as possible. Ceres needs to be safe. You know they will kill her.” You tell him, aware of how insane they are. “We must protect her.” You reach out to caress the cheek of your daughter.

“We will stay tonight and then leave tomorrow.”‘Marcus promises, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “The men are gathering wood for a fire and we will make sure you two have a warm bed.”

You caress his chest, leaning into him and breathing him in. You feel safe for now and it doesn’t take long for you to settle Ceres in bed by the fire. You stroke her cheek as she sleeps, watching over her, and you look up when Marcus walks into the room. “My men are stationed at the entrances and I have someone watching the horizon for any intruders.” He says and you nod, looking back down at Ceres. “All this effort for me.” You sigh, “she would’ve been protected by the emperor and I- I would’ve been fed to the dogs after I gave him what he wanted.”

“You don’t know she would have been protected.” Marcus shakes his head. “Geta is spoiled and vicious, a dangerous combination.” He throws some more wood on the fire. “I would risk all of Rome for you, our daughter.” He tells you. “I would fight to the death in the colosseum for you.”

You shake your head, “hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” Your heart clenches at the thought of Marcus fighting for his life because of you. You stand up, leaving Ceres to sleep and you cover her up. “You need to rest.” You tell Marcus, noticing how exhausted he looks.

“You should sleep too.” Marcus comments, knowing he won’t sleep well tonight. He will be up and down, checking in with the guards. “Come.” He offers you his hand. “Come to the gardens with me.”

You take his hand, letting him guide you to the gardens and you squeeze his hand when you are surrounded by the walls of the courtyard. “My poor plants.” You sigh, “and vegetables. I worked so hard on that garden.”

“I know.” He murmurs, rubbing your arm. “Wherever we settle, I will make sure that you have a garden you can enjoy.” He promises. “The entire courtyard will be for your enjoyment.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around him and you tilt your head towards his, “thank you. For everything. You saved us and I- I love you so much.” You lean closer to kiss his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Marcus promises. “I prayed for you every day.” He doesn’t tell you how disappointed he was when he never heard anything from you; but he knows why now.

“And I you.” You promise, cupping his cheek, bringing his dark gaze to you. “I love you, Marcus. I always have. Since that moment you helped Ceres.” You tell him and his eyes soften, “I wanted it to be you. From the start.” You sigh and nod, leaning in to press your lips to his, “we will have each other. No matter what it takes.” You whisper against his lips until you tilt your mouth to deepen the kiss.

This time Marcus doesn’t pull back from you. He opens up, allowing you to take charge of the kiss, to control what happens now. So much of your life has been dictated and he wants you to feel like you are in control. Groaning into your mouth when you slide your tongue against his.

You slide your hands around to grip his neck, pulling him even closer and you moan as you slide your tongue into his mouth, loving how he surrenders control to you.

Marcus closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss and his hands slide down to your ass and he palms it gently. He loves your body, always has and even though you have been apart for so long, he wants you.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him harden against your hip and you slide your hands down to caress his chest, “I want you, amor. I need you.” You pant against his jaw, pressing a kiss to the stubble that’s formed there. “Please take me. I’m yours.”

"Here?" Marcus asks, but you are reaching down and squeezing his cock through his tunic and he groans into your neck as he presses his face into your pulse, inhaling your sweet scent. You would love having sex in the gardens, as much as you loved spending time here. "The wall," he growls, moving you towards it. The short wall would be perfect to prop you up against and make you cum.

You let him walk you backwards and when he grabs your thighs, he lifts you up onto the short wall. You’re already wet for him and you reach for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up so you can wrap your fingers around his hard length. “Marcus please.” You beg, needing him.

He knows you have not had any man but him between your thighs and he groans when you start to pump his cock. “Uxor.” He moans, knowing that while it might not be official in any legal capacity, you have always been his wife in his heart. From the very beginning. “I’ll give you what you need.” He promises. “Do you want me to fill you?” He asks softly.

You whine, “yes. Want to feel all of you. I don’t care.” You tell him with a moan as he shuffles closer. “Please, Maritus.” You demand and spread your legs wider for him. He hisses when he shuffles closer to slide the head of his cock through your folds.

He should work you open on his fingers, but he’s too eager for you to care. Gripping your hip as he starts to slowly push into you. “Fuck.” He pants your name, pressing his lips against yours as he breaks you open. He knows his soldiers won’t disturb him unless it’s important, so he can take his time with you.

You whimper, letting him work you open with each rock of his hips and you are moaning his name, pressing your lips to his chin as he takes his time, making you pant as he stretches you out for only the second time ever.

One he is fully buried inside you, he closes his eyes. “I love you.” Moaning softly, he tries his hardest to hold still while you get used to him, your walls fluttering around him so beautifully. “Fuck.”

You caress his shoulders over his tunic, admiring the way he looks in the moonlight as he starts to move inside you. “That’s it, Maritus. Take me. I’m yours.” You promise again, wrapping your legs around him.

He loves that you are calling him your husband, holding onto your hips as he sets a pace that is slow and steady. Taking his time to fill you and then pull back. Wanting to feel everything as he reacquaints himself with the way you feel around his cock.

Your head lulls back and he leans forward to kiss along your neck. “I love you.” You promise breathlessly, “I always have. Always.” You vow and he bites down on your chin, wanting to claim you completely and you gasp, walls fluttering around his cock.

Marcus growls out your name, feeling possessive over you. You’ve had his child, you’ve given him your innocence. You are his. He’s not leaving you or letting you go this time. He will fight to the death for you and Ceres.

You are breathless as he rocks into you, making you gasp his name, and you cling to him. The wall digs into your flesh but you don’t care. You want him to ruin you, to take what's his and he does. He rocks into you, hard but slow, and you whimper his name again. “Gods, that feels - right there.” You choke, clenching around him.

“Right there?” He huffs, smirking at the awe on your moon lit face. He rolls his hips again, wanting you to come apart for him. “Thought about you for three fucking years.” He confesses. “Imagined coming back to you every day, finding you in my tent.”

“I wish I was there. I would’ve made sure you had something to fight for. To make you feel good.” You promise with a gasp when he starts to thrust into you a little harder. “I would’ve been yours every single night.” You vow, “I am now. Yours. Completely. Always.”

“You are mine.” He grunts. “You, our daughter. You are going to be beside me for the rest of our lives.” He grits his teeth and lifts your legs onto his hips as he fucks into you.

You moan his name as he rocks into you, getting you closer and closer to your peak. “Yes. Gods, Marcus. I- fuck. I am going to- I need - your fingers. Please.” You beg, moaning and your thighs shaking but you need more to send you over the edge.

Marcus hisses at how close you are, releasing one of your thighs. Snaking his hand down between your bodies and pressing his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Pressing his lips to yours to absorb your moan as he starts to rub. “Cum for me, uxor.”

You can’t deny him even if you tried. You clamp down on his cock within seconds and cry out his name. You soak him and your chest heaves, finally returned with the man you love. You caress his chest, “fill me up. I don’t care.”

Marcus hisses in pleasure, your words sending him over the edge. He pumps deep twice more before burying his cock. Throbbing inside you as he paints your walls with his seed. He could get you pregnant again, but he doesn’t care, he would love that. Once you are safe, he wants more kids with you, and wants to be present for your time carrying them.

You moan his name, loving the way he fills you up without care and you know he will keep you and Ceres safe. No matter what. “I love you.” You pant and caress his chest over his tunic, “we will be safe tomorrow.” You promise despite not knowing what tomorrow holds. You spend several moments kissing and caressing while he softens inside you until he pulls out and tells you you need to rest. “Rest with me.” You order, noticing the darkness under his eyes.

“After a check in with my men.” He promises. He knows he will wake every hour to check in, but he will give you what you want and lay down with you. “Love you.”

You smile, caressing his cheek and he takes your hand to press a soft kiss to your palm. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep with him wrapped around you and he strokes your side as he watches you until he pulls himself away to speak with his men. Tomorrow, you’ll escape from the clutches of the emperors.

**** 

Marcus woke several times during the night but after the guards had traded off, he had stayed asleep. He had given strict orders to wake him if something happened, but he had curled around you until just before the sun broke the sky and one his men rushed into the villa. “General! We have a rider approaching!”

Marcus is swift to get out of bed, grabbing his chest plate and sword after tying his sandals to see what the rider has to say. It’s likely an order of execution from the emperors for everyone here. You gasp, waking up and you rush to get Ceres, wanting to protect her while you hear the news from the rider.

Coming out to the gates, Marcus frowns when he sees a lone rider, a dispatch messenger. His only job is to ride to the prominent villas with important news, although only one other man in Rome had known he was going to be here. The man he had left behind to send word about the order to execute Marcus for kidnapping the future empress. He must have been sent here by Octavious after he had parted ways once you were in the trunk. “News!” The messenger cries before he even pulls his horse to a stop. “Emperor’s Geta and Caracalla have been killed!”

You are holding a moaning Ceres, angry at being woken up, when you hear the news. Your eyes widen as you look over at Marcus. You don’t respond, too in shock, and you shake your head. “They are dead. The senate - they heard you had escaped and quickly moved to form a coup. They stabbed the emperors when they gathered to discuss your execution.” The messenger declares and Marcus frowns, “and where is your proof?” He asks and the man holds out a coin. It’s covered in blood but you know it. Geta had it on a string around his neck. A charm his father gave him when he was a boy. “He’s dead.” You choke in relief, “we are free.”

Marcus nods, turning and crushing you against him. “I will have to return to Rome.” He tells you quietly. “Stay with my men.” He still doesn’t trust it not to be some kind of trap; but he doesn’t want to worry you. “I will be back tonight.” He promises.

You cling to him, “Marcus. What if it’s a trap?” You ask, knowing that the emperors are evil and you wouldn’t put anything past them. “I know, but I have to make sure. We need to know for certain.” He says and you cup his cheek, “come back to us.” You demand, pressing your lips to his.

“I will.” Marcus presses his lips to yours again and again. “You are my uxor.” He tells you quietly before he looks to the men who follow him, gathered around him silently without you noticing. “Protect the general’s family with your lives.” He orders them.

Ceres reaches for her father and he pulls her close for a second, kissing her cheek. “Be good, my girl.” He murmurs and she pouts, “pater.” She wants him to stay but you know he has to go. He will never settle without knowing for certain that you are safe. “It’s okay, amor.” You murmur to her, “pater will be home soon.”

“Help her restore the villa.” He instructs his men, hanging you a large bag of coins. “I will be back as quickly as I can.” He promises again before stealing one last breathtaking kiss.

You watch him go, your heart clenching in fear that this is a trap and he’s going to be killed. You hug Ceres tight, the bag of coins in your other hand, and you look at his men. “Well, gentleman, let’s get started. We have a lot to do to make this place suitable for the general’s return.”

**** 

Three days later, a rider approaches, the guards tense and gripping their swords as they wait. Until they recognize the general, calling out for the gates to be opened, to greet Marcus as he comes galloping into the courtyard calling for you and Ceres as he jumps off his horse.

You are in the garden with Ceres, showing her how to plant some flowers and you look up when you hear his voice. “Pater!” Ceres shouts and runs towards the gate where Marcus is and you are relieved.

He’s relieved to see his daughter come careening towards him. Bending down to one knee so he can scoop her up with a grunt. “Little one!” He hugs her close and kisses her cheek. “Have you been good?”

Ceres nods, hugging her father tight with her arms wrapped around his neck. You walk over, your heart thumping in relief, and you rush towards him, wrapping your arms around him and Ceres and you press your lips to his.

“I’m home, uxor.” Marcus promises you with a soft smile. “The emperors are dead.” He had made sure of it and stayed for the coming changes to Rome. “You and I are to return to the city to be married. And I have been promised that we will not be sent off to war for at least a year.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, “we are to be married?” You ask and he nods, “the senate have approved it. I have claimed Ceres. We can be at peace.” He vows and you choke, “finally.”

“Finally.” Marcus smiles at you and leans in to press his lips to yours. “We will be together. And I will make sure that you never have to worry about your future again.”

**** 

You smile at Marcus as you look out across the fields, the baby boy at your breast as you cradle him while Marcus shows Ceres how to plant a seed for vegetables. You’re married and at peace. What you’ve always longed for. Marcus may have rescued your sister that day in the market, but he’s saved your life and you’ll always love him for that.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hellooo! Hear me out on this request 🤓☝️

Necromancer reader. So the scenario is like one of the creeps "died" when they're about to do a mission, and their partners cant wait for them to revive back since it'll take too long. So what do you think some of the creeps reaction to them literally reconstructing their dead co-worker to be good as new, especially EJ since it looks like a cult sacrifice (it does need a sacrifice🧍‍♀️)

Hope my request isn't that long 🧎‍♀️

-🧚‍♀️

Summary: Reader and the creeps are about to go on a mission together, but said creep is currently in the process of reviving. In order to get a move on, reader "revives" creep.

Genre: Slice of life

Warnings: Mentions of death, creeps being in rough shape, violence

Credits: Ticci Toby- Creepypasta, Jeff The Killer- Creepypasta, Eyeless Jack- Creepypasta, Divider- kodaswrld

A/n: With every ask I get where the creeps are left up to me, I choose my most popular (except for EJ bc you mentioned him). Also sorry this ask was marinating for so long hopefully you're still around <///3

Ticci Toby

Toby wasn't one to be reckless, when he got caught up in accidents it was almost always due to circumstances surrounding the event. For example, not watching where he was going and bumping into a wall, slowing himself down. This time, he'd gotten roughed up on a solo mission, getting backed into a corner with his hatchets tossed to the side. This left him with only his knife, which wasn't all that helpful when fighting a high profile demon. Back up had been summoned, and Toby was brought back in one piece, but he was gonna take a while to get back to full health again.

Once back at the manor, he was placed in a special room in the medical wing for creeps that are currently reviving. A couple days after the incident, you were assigned a mission. It was fairly easy, and on easy missions you like to bring Toby with you to spend some quality time together. You were talking about your plan to Jane, telling her excited you were to spend some time with Toby again after it being a while, when she reminded you that he was still pretty much M.I.A. You bit your lip as you thought. "Shit." You mumbled. You'd already gotten everything set up, and the mission was tomorrow. You had no time to ask someone else to clear their schedule for you. You decided that you had no choice but to revive him, and it had to be to full health. That would take a buttload of energy, but it was your only choice.

You head down to the medical wing, and inform the medical staff there that you need to revive Toby. They are reluctant to let you, as stuff like that kind of risky for both you and Toby, but they agree to let you try. At worst he comes out of his coma feeling a little under the weather. You begin pouring your magic into Toby, while the medical staff observe. By the 1 hour mark you are feeling a little spent, and he hasn't even opened his eyes yet. You begin to doubt yourself, but then his finger twitches. You keep going and within another hour, he jolts up from the bed he is laying on with a gasp. You let out a sigh of relief, and the others in the room offer you congratulations. "How do you feel?" Nurse Anne asks. Toby takes in his surroundings for a second before answering "Like I could run a marathon". You let out a tired chuckle and plop your head into his lap "I'm glad one of us does". After all of that energy and magic you spent, he better help your butt out on the mission.

Jeff The Killer

Unlike Toby, Jeff is VERY reckless. But he makes up for it with his swiftness and stealth. This being said, Jeff often comes home with injuries of some sort, but he's never been brought home unconscious before. Jeff is one of, if not THE most hunted man on the overworld. Whenever he goes up there, it's pretty much a race against the clock to try and do his mission and get out before someone recognizes him. And trust, someone WILL recognize him. All of this is to say that what happened to him that day was a big shock to everyone. He'd been reckless, as Jeff does, and got himself stuck in a closed in alleyway with the police hot on his trail. He would have mentally cursed himself for being so stupid, but by the time the thought could've crossed his mind it would have been too late, because almost as soon as it came, it went. Everything went actually, all of his thoughts were gone as he hears a "BANG!" and feels blood dripping down his face.

Jeff is one of Slender's favorite workers, so the second Jeff was in trouble he snatched him up and brought him back to the manor. He is placed in the medical wing to recover, and the whole manor is buzzing with rumors as to what could've happened out there. You immediately knew that Jeff would rather die than have his reputation ruined, so you decide to go save his stupid butt the trouble of being stuck in a coma for a few weeks. You decide not to get him back up to full health, because with Jeff that would take probably every ounce of magic left in the world and also kill you in the process. So you instead just resort to doing enough to get him awake again. It takes a few hours, but eventually he is awake and healed enough to not be in constant pain. As you sit in a chair next to his bed with your head down on the nightstand to regain your energy, you decide to ask him what happened out there. "The whole manor's talking about it." You add. "Must've been something real bad if it took you down." He remains quiet, grimacing at the fact it was just a stupid kid on the police force that was able to knock him out. "Don't wan' talk about it" he grunts.

You sit your head up and raise a brow. "With the amount of energy I just used to help your stupid self I think I at least deserve to know." You throw in a sweet smile to help your case "I won't tell anyone, scout's honor." You say, raising your left hand. He huffs "Didn't ask you t' help." You frown. "You didn't have to. I did it because I wanted to. Come on, please?" He begins to pick at his nails before letting out a sigh. "I was bein' stupid. Ran right into a wall and cops shot me." Your eyes widen. That was it?? That's all it takes to take down Jeff THE Killer?? He seems to sense your shock because he suddenly looks you in your eyes "You tell anyone and I'll do the same to you. And this time, ain't no one comin' to save your ass like you did mine"

Eyeless Jack

As an immortal demon, Jack can't really "die". He can be severely weakened, though. As summer was rolling around, the manor was very busy with almost everyone having at least one job to do every single day, off days being a very rare privilege. Due to Jack being more busy around the medical wing, he is often to tired to hunt once finished working for the day, or he just forgets to. This is bad for him, because now he has no food. He can eat other things, sure, but they won't provide him with any kind of energy or sustenance. At this point, he was too weak to go hunting himself, and the only other demons in the house were all the way down in the basement or in the forest somewhere. He sighs and decides that his only chance is to go hunting himself, despite knowing better. Once in the woods, his stomach growling scares off any potential prey, and he is far too dizzy to just chase it down. He eventually ends up passing out on the forest floor, hoping someone notices him missing.

3 Days later, the medical wing is piling up. It was barely managed with Jack there, and without him they are practically drowning. It isn't uncommon for Jack to just head off for days on end, but it was strange of him to do it in the middle of the busiest season of the manor. Typically he has more care than that. It is only when Seed Eater drags him to the front porch that the other nurses and doctors realize where he went. He is skinnier than he was before he left, with huge bags under his eyes. The liquid that usually oozes from his sockets is now dried up, due to his body not having enough nutrients to sustain it. He is awake, but just barely. Immediately they rush to get you, one of the only readily available necromancers in the manor. You whistle lowly once you see him. "Oohf. He looks rough. We'll have to get some food in him first, or my magic won't do diddly squat" You say, standing with your hands on your hips. Since he is too weak to chew, you prop him up and pour blood into his mouth, massaging his throat to help him in swallowing.

It is a few days of doing this before he is just strong enough to hold the bowl by himself. You figure that's a good starting point and begin to work your magic. "Need you fixed up quick. Too many people need patching up for you to dip out on us" You mumble. After a while, it seems he's gained the strength to muster a tired chuckle. You perk up at the sound and smile. "What?" You ask as you continue to fix him up. He is quiet for a long while, just drinking from the bowl and staring at the ceiling. "It's just that I don't remember the last time I was taken care of" He whispers.

[cdragons]

I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.  

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

 “WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips.  The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl��avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her.  Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern