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rafecameronssl4t · 3 months ago

Note

the jarah pregnancy made me so happy, so i was thinking about thornton!reader finding out an unexpected pregnancy

Sweet Nineteen || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: I was thinking the same thing 🤯

Warnings: vomiting, mention of drugs, r is pregnant at 19

Word count: 1,960

MASTERLIST (rafe x Thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The bile rises, thick and sour, up your throat, and you throw off the sheets in a panic, bolting to the bathroom. You barely reach the toilet before you’re heaving, clutching the rim as the wave of nausea overwhelms you. It takes a moment before you feel Rafe’s presence at your side.

Gently, he gathers your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail as he kneels down beside you. His hand is warm and steady on your back, rubbing small, comforting circles. “Fuck,” you mutter in a weak voice, feeling the bile burn again as you throw up once more. Rafe doesn’t flinch, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch grounding you.

“You okay?” he asks softly as you finally catch your breath, reaching out to flush the toilet. He sounds genuinely concerned. “I thought you don’t get boat sickness.” “Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before reaching for your toothbrush.

The cool water on your teeth and gums is a relief, and you close your eyes briefly, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Probably something bad I ate yesterday,” you add, glancing up in the mirror to meet his gaze. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed as he nods slowly, a hint of worry still lingering in his expression.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be nineteen in like…” Sarah pauses, glancing down as she counts on her fingers, her grin widening. “Ten hours,” she chuckles, nudging you playfully. You smile, popping a grape into your mouth. “I know, crazy, right?” you say, shaking your head. It feels surreal, like the year passed in a flash.

Before you can say anything else, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning, you spot Rafe and Topper strolling onto the sun deck, looking relaxed, almost too relaxed. But then the sharp scent of weed hits you, making you wrinkle your nose. You sit up from the sun bed, eyeing Topper with a grimace as you spot the joint hanging from his mouth.

“Are you smoking weed right now?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. Topper raises an eyebrow, the joint dangling as he gives you a smirk. “Yeah?” he replies nonchalantly, taking a slow, lazy drag, as if daring you to say more. Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand in front of your face, trying to clear the air. “Well, go smoke it somewhere else,” you mutter. “The smell’s making me sick.”

Topper holds your gaze, his expression shifting to mild confusion mixed with amusement. “What? Never bothered you before, sis,” he says, exhaling another plume of smoke, clearly finding this reaction from you entertaining. “Seriously, get the fuck out of here,” you groan, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as a wave of nausea rolls over you. “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

Topper’s smirk falters as he studies you, genuinely taken aback by your reaction. He glances at Rafe, clearly puzzled, as if to confirm whether this is real or just a joke. Rafe watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he turns to Topper. “Just listen to her,” Rafe mutters, giving Topper a nod of silent insistence. With a sigh, Topper raises his hands in surrender, then stubs out the joint against the railing.

“Fine, fine. You didn’t have to ruin the fun,” he says, tossing the remnants aside. With one last look—half-amused, half-apologetic—Topper ambles off, leaving you Rafe and Sarah in a moment of silence. You exhale slowly, the nausea finally beginning to subside as the smell dissipates, while Rafe lingers, his gaze still fixed on you, as if silently checking to make sure you’re alright.

Did you take any medicine?” Rafe’s voice breaks the comfortable silence between you and Sarah as he strolls over, his expression softened with concern. He sits down beside you on the sunbed, his hand instinctively reaching for your thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.“Yeah,” you reply, offering him a small smile. Sarah perks up at the exchange, her brows knitting together in curiosity.

“For what? Are you sick?” she asks, tilting her head with genuine worry. You shake your head, hoping to ease her concern. “I threw up this morning. I think I just ate something bad,” you explain, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. Sarah’s expression shifts to one of cautious relief as she slowly nods, her eyes lingering on you for a moment.

You glance at your watch: five minutes until midnight. The bathroom is quiet and dimly lit, but inside, your mind races as you stare down at the test, barely able to breathe. With trembling fingers, you turn it over, bracing yourself—and your heart stops. Two clear lines. Positive. Pregnant.

The air feels thick, each breath you take heavy with the weight of this sudden, life-changing truth. Pregnant at nineteen. You feel a tear slip down your cheek as the reality of it hits: the uncertainty, the responsibility, and the tiny spark of awe that stirs in your chest at the thought of the life growing within you. Who would��ve thought?

Just as you’re caught in the storm of emotions, you hear Rafe’s voice calling out to you from down the hall, his tone carefree and excited. “Babe, where are you?” Your heart skips, and with a surge of panic, you quickly hide the test in the drawer, wiping away the tears from your face. You glance in the mirror, dabbing beneath your eyes to make sure there’s no trace of the overwhelming emotion that just ran through you.

“Here!” you call out, doing your best to sound cheerful as you step out of the bathroom, forcing a smile onto your face. You walk toward Rafe, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gives you that familiar, comforting smile, his hands settling on your waist. “There you are,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He glances down at his watch, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“C’mon, three minutes until midnight,” he says, a spark in his voice as he takes your hand and starts leading you down the hallway. As he pulls you along toward the top deck, you can’t help but glance back at the bathroom door, where the test lies tucked away, as if leaving behind the secret that’s only just beginning to dawn on you.

The cool night air brushes over you as you step onto the deck, where Sarah and Topper are waiting, chatting and laughing under the glow of fairy lights strung around the railings. The ocean spreads out beneath you, dark and endless, stars reflecting off the gentle waves. You try to take it all in, hoping the beauty of the scene will settle the nerves still buzzing under your skin.

“What’s the time now—” you begin, but before you can finish, the sky bursts into a riot of color as the first firework explodes overhead. You gasp, your hand flying to your mouth in surprise as another spark ignites, followed by another, each one brighter than the last, painting the sky in shades of red, blue, and gold.

Your eyes widen as the fireworks continue to light up the night, each one booming and shimmering against the dark sky. The sight is breathtaking, yet you feel tears pricking your eyes again, overwhelmed by the moment, by the beauty of it all, and by the tiny life that only you know about.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rafe whispers close to your ear, his arms slipping around you from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His warmth seeps into you, grounding you as you lean back against him, watching the fireworks burst above you. You turn in his arms, unable to stop the tears that slip down your cheeks, your emotions too strong to hide. Rafe’s face softens, his thumb brushing against your cheek to catch a tear.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern as his hands gently cradle your face. You hold him close, gathering the courage to tell him what you’ve only just discovered. Voice barely above a whisper, you lean in close, “I’m pregnant.” The fireworks continue to crackle overhead, and your words are nearly lost in the noise. Rafe pulls back, searching your face with a confused look. “What?”

A nervous laugh escapes you, and this time, you say it louder, “I’m pregnant, Rafe!” His face shifts, eyes widening as the realisation dawns on him. “You’re pregnant?” he repeats, his voice filled with awe, and you nod, unable to hold back the smile spreading across your face. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he pulls you into a deep, joyful kiss, his hands cradling your face like he’s afraid to let go.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “We’re going to have a baby,” he says softly, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, still in shock but brimming with happiness. “What’s going on?” Sarah’s voice cuts through, and you both turn to see her and Topper walking over, eyes filled with curiosity.

You beam at them, feeling a rush of excitement at sharing the news. “I’m pregnant!” you announce, your voice trembling with joy. Sarah’s jaw drops, her hand covering her mouth as she lets out a squeal of excitement, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh my god, y/n, are you serious?! This is amazing!” she cries, nearly bouncing with joy as she squeezes you.

Topper’s eyes go wide, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe with a grin spreading across his face. “Holy shit, dude! You’re gonna be a dad!” He claps Rafe on the back with enthusiasm, pulling him into a quick, celebratory hug as they both break into laughter. Rafe chuckles, patting Topper’s shoulder, a lightness in his expression that you rarely see.

“And you’re gonna be an uncle,” he replies, unable to hide the pride and excitement in his voice. Topper’s grin softens a little as he turns to you, arms wide open. “Congrats, sis,” he says warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. His embrace is solid and reassuring, swaying you back and forth as you both share a laugh. “Mom’s gonna be over the moon,” he says, chuckling as he releases you.

You smile, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “You really think so?” A part of you can’t help but worry about how your parents will react to the news, especially given that you’re only nineteen. Their expectations have always been high, and this wasn’t exactly in their plans for you.

“Oh, trust me, I know so.” Topper’s eyes twinkle with a mix of reassurance and amusement. “She might put on a big act and pretend to be shocked, but deep down, she’s been waiting for this. She’s dreamed of being a grandma for years.” He gives your arm a gentle squeeze, his playful grin easing your nerves a little.

As you pull away from Topper, Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist, drawing you close to his side. He looks down at you, his expression softening, and leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of wonder, as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you as you snuggle into him, resting your head against his chest. “Me neither,” you reply softly, your voice filled with quiet happiness. “But I’m glad it’s with you.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as the reality of it all settles between you.

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driaswrld · 1 year ago

Text

city boys! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.4k

summary : you go grocery shopping with satoru and suguru and they're just idiots tbvh (gn! reader)

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i have shamelessly brought my calculator to a kfc drive thru and yes i do it at the grocery store bcus i have dyscalculia math sucks don't @ me. also i have so much satosugu brainrot i can't breathe. yay to the satoru themed era of the blog :))

other : this can be read as platonic or poly just however you wanna see it! (like three curse words i think - mentions of cunnilingus) I SWEAR ITS NOT WHAT U THINK

current casette : city boys - burna boy

There’s something about summer that makes Satoru and Suguru hang off your shoulders more than they ought to. In the most mundane situations too.

“—and it’s not even that serious!” Satoru groans, dragging his feet on the floor, reluctantly marching behind where you’re pushing the trolley. “Who cares what kind of curry it is? Curry is curry.” He reasons with a huff.

Suguru nudges you in the middle of the supermarket aisle from time to time, pointing out things you usually buy, brands you usually prefer over most, and you grab whatever you find remotely necessary and toss in the cart, both of you collectively ignoring Satoru’s whines.

“C’monnn… Listen to me!”

You pick up a can of diced pineapple and look at Suguru. “Nah, that one’s too sour,” he murmurs and you put it back instantly. Afterall, Suguru’s the best taste tester you could ever ask for. Satoru just scarfs down everything in a forty mile radius.

“The design on the can was pretty though, ‘s a shame.” You sigh.

Satoru’s groans fall on deaf ears.

You turn a corner and head into the fruit aisle. Suguru’s eyes flick to something over your head and his steps falter for a moment. While you’re pushing the trolley ahead, a soft smack! noise comes from behind you and before you can turn your head—

“No! I wanted the other one—”

“This one’s better—”

You ignore them, albeit barely with all the commotion both boys are causing in the supermarket. Leaning over an array of cherries on display, you hum to yourself, carefully picking the pretty ones to add to the cart, perusing at the other assortment of fruit and if even possible, Satoru and Suguru’s bickering gets louder.

“That tastes like shit—” “You look like shit—”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“You eat pussy with that mouth?”

You strain your head forward as an old lady strolls past, her eyes a little wide and eyebrows knitted with a look of utter shock and you shrink. With a stiff, humorless giggle you turn your back to her, suddenly finding a bunch of grapes oddly interesting.

Embarrassing.

And when you breathe a breath of relief as the old lady passes by, Satoru swings his arm over your shoulder, pouting. “Suguru’s a dumbass—” He’s cut off by a smack to the back of his head, and despite yourself you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Will you two just behave and,” you shift out of Satoru’s hold to take the mini package of ridiculously sweet m&m infused rice krispies he has in his other hand.

You toss it into the cart. “—help me pick some stuff for my fruit salad?” Satoru shrugs with a sigh, he hates shopping. It’s so boring—

You laugh and pull up the list you typed up on your phone : Raspberries, check. Kiwi, check. Watermelon, check. Grapes…

“What else do you need?” Suguru asks, and he sidesteps Satoru, leaning casually on the trolley, one foot pushing it forward and backward as you look through the fruits. “Grapes—” you murmur, suddenly feeling indecisive as you look through the different bunches. Green or Purple. Purple or Green.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses down to the curve of his nose. “Green, ‘s prettier,” he says and you turn to grab a bunch of the green grapes as Suguru straightens his body, pretending to look over your shoulder as he sneakily drops a package of plain marshmallow rice krispies into the cart. “Yeah, green would make it look way more appealing, wouldn’t it?” You whisper to yourself.

“I saw that—” Satoru begins to say.

“Purple’s better, healthier than the green ones.” Suguru says with a straight face. Behind your back he flips Satoru off.

You shrug your shoulders and grab a small bunch of both. If anything, it’ll be shared well between you and Shoko in the bentos you make. Hopefully she appreciates the struggle.

Sliding your phone unlocked, you glance at the list again as you step off. Grapes, check. Suguru pushes the trolley, following close behind you as Satoru trudges behind him. “Wait—” You halt immediately, and Suguru has to steer the trolley left so he doesn’t run into you, but Satoru steps on the back of Suguru's shoes, and looks away with a bashful whistle.

“Other aisle, we need to turn around.” You say, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. Canned Pineapples. You forgot you put back the last one. “How many damn aisles are there?” Satoru mumbles as you turn and make a beeline for the next corner, going back where the three of you came. Suguru chuckles.

Kneeling, you grab the canned pineapples opposite to the ones Suguru said were sour. Hopefully that much distance in the store is enough of a difference between the two brands.

You check the list one more time. Pineapples, check.

“Right, that should be it.” You mumble and both boys internally celebrate — well, Satoru makes a show of letting out a long dramatic sigh of relief while Suguru nods.

Taking a look into the cart, Satoru pettily moves his package of rice krispies on the other side of the cart, away from Suguru’s and when Suguru looks at him incredulously, he sticks a tongue out, “Your flavor’s trash.”

Suguru rolls his eyes and is about to push the trolley forward to run him over when he sees you pull out a scientific calculator from your tote.

A scientific calculator. The same one you use for school. “The fu—” Satoru is about to say, and Suguru glances at him, both of them trying to at least read each other’s minds about what the hell is going on.

You however, are so hyper focused on your little task, pushing the buttons of your calculator, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Satoru and Suguru watch you for all of two minutes. One minute spent with expressions morphing from confused, to even more confused, to utterly amused. The second minute spent snickering quietly and snapping silent pictures for the groupchat.

“Huh, I went over a little.” You hum and though they haven’t wiped the sheer amusement off their faces, they both find themselves intrigued. “By how much?” Suguru asks, quickly sending off the pictures to the groupchat.

“Seven hundred yen.” You reply as you step forward to peer into the cart, willing and ready to discard one unnecessary item to drop the price.

Three of your phones chime. Satoru checks his own notification.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : who added me to this???

Nanaminn <3 : delete my number gojo.

“Bet it’s the curry.” Satoru mumbles absentmindedly, typing at his phone screen. “The curry’s like—” he pauses, shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket and counts silently on his fingers. “A thousand yen or something — they must’ve put the god of curry in there or something.”

“It’s not the curry,” you reason scouring the cart for any discrepancies. And there’s quite a few of them. Including but not limited to some Sakura tarts, sour candies, an extra package of rice krispies—

“The curry powder we picked is five hundred yen, it’s not the curry.” Suguru shrugs, and Satoru leans against one of the shelves of seasoning, letting out a quiet sneeze.

“Bless you— I need to recheck these.” The calculator comes out again as you murmur to yourself, the click clacking of the buttons drowning out your own thoughts.

“I’m just saying— maybe it was the rice krispie Suguru snuck into the cart—” Satoru mumbles, all while he bends his body at the end of the aisle, reaching blindly around to the shelves on the other side.

“You put one in, I was only balancing the trolley weight.” Suguru interrupts, and he turns his head away when you look up from your calculator at him accusingly.

“See?” Satoru grins, almost victoriously as he grasps a package of baumkuchen, wheeling his hand back as he sidesteps Suguru, moving to slide the pastry into the trolley. “Who knows what else’ll just drop into the cart?” And your calculator is forgotten as you snatch the pastry from Satoru’s hand. “Nothing else is dropping into the cart—”

But something else catches your attention as you’re about to scold him.

Two bright green bags, hidden at the bottom of the cart, stuffed under the packaging of Sakura tarts.

“Who the hell put Kenpi chips in here?”

Satoru and Suguru both freeze, and suddenly their accusing fingers are pointed at each other. But instead of scolding them like they expect—

“Should’ve at least put one for me.”

You're never going to the grocery store with them again.

Bonus :

“Satoru’s paying for the extra snacks—”

“Not fair! Suguru shouldn’t get to just stuff his face—”

“Only two of those snacks are mine. Two. Out of ten.”

A notification sounds on the three of your phones.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : is that my calculator that you borrowed???

@todorokies gets the privilege tag cs i told knives ab this first😭

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rxqueenotd · 1 month ago

Text

damnatio memoriae: PART IV

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima', was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

warnings: arranged marriage, foul language, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, Ancient Rome as a warning in itself, bloodletting, p n v penetration, orgy-ish situation, animal sacrifice.

notes: literally posting this from a McDonalds parking lot on the way to a Christmas party. A quick thanks to my brotha @trashmouth-richie and @londonfog-chan for all the help. I owe you guys what’s left of my soul. Please like and share if you enjoy this series! Over 7000 words in this chapter alone.

The delicate aroma of fresh bread and honey wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of blossoming flowers from the courtyard outside. Fine earthenware plates held an assortment of breakfast delicacies scattered across an oval table in the middle of the room: warm, crusty loaves of panis glistened with honey, bowls of ripe figs and olives, and delicate cheeses. A pitcher of cool, refreshing water sat alongside a flask of rich, dark wine—though it was early, you had indulged yourself. The gentle clinking of utensils and the soft rustle of linen filled the dining room as guests served themselves, enjoying the simple pleasures of the morning. A musician played softly in the corner, the gentle strumming of a lyre adding a serene layer to the room. You sighed happily as you sat alone at a table in the corner of the great room with the perfect view of the courtyard. For all the drama of the previous day, you revelled in being alone, relishing the magnificent frescoed walls that depicted scenes of mythological feasts and playful Bacchanalian revelries. The sunlight shone in delicately, warming the marble flooring in which you drug your barefoot across under the table.

“You must have said something to set him off. I could still smell your perfume when I walked into his chambers—he was that quick to summon me,” Caracalla said, plopping down in the chair across from you with an exaggerated huff. You sighed, placing your cutlery down, knowing fair well that any peace you had maintained over the course of the morning was over. His new golden incisor caught the light as he spoke. You had stepped out onto the balcony for just a moment when the physician had come to fix the cracked tooth the night before, a souvenir from Septimius’s fist meeting Caracalla’s lip.

“Just because you think we share a common enemy does not mean we are allies,” you shot back. Making it clear that your act of cleaning him up and reaching an agreement the previous night did not give him the right to intrude on your peaceful breakfast.

“He never even made it to Baiae,” he retorted, glancing at you dismissively. “He only got as far as Ostia. This was just a test to see how well I could manage on my own.”

His face was swollen, bruises bloomed in deep shades of purple and green around his nose and mouth, the latter catching dramatically on the light as he spoke.

“A test you failed spectacularly,” you replied, arching an eyebrow as you bit into a particularly sour grape.

“Did you let him turn you into a quivering mass of need?” he asked, a mocking giggle escaping his lips, “Did he entertain you with tales of his wild sons and his deceased wife?”

“No,” you admitted, shaking your head, “He did not reduce me to anything but confusion.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “I find that I am still confused.”

“If he truly cared for Rome,” he said, his tone dripping with jealousy and hurt as he turned to meet your gaze, “If he truly cared for me as his son, he would step down and stop fostering Geta’s hope that one day this empire may be ours together.”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, bitterness lacing his voice.

“Surely you see that I am just your wife—no consul, no philosopher, just a woman.” you replied, feigning innocence as you took a sip of your wine, challenging him with your gaze.

“Ah, that’s a rare admission from you, wife.” he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you think it was him?”

You flicked your gaze toward Senator Blandus, a quick movement that Caracalla caught. Senator Blandus stood with a slight stoop, his height diminished, yet his presence was still imposing. His once broad shoulders sagged under the weight of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of Roman politics. The edges of his toga were slightly tattered, its white wool dulled with age, carelessly draped over his shoulder. The deep purple stripe that signified his senatorial rank had faded, hinting at a man who had seen better days. His gaunt face and sunken cheeks accentuated his unkempt style, with thin, wispy hair and a matching gray beard that was scraggly and untrimmed. His murky brown eyes held a suspicious gleam as they scanned the surrounding people, narrowing even more when they landed on you and Caracalla.

He set his wine cup down with a sigh, glancing around the room before looking back at you.

“I have already had him investigated. He spent the night at his mistress’s villa.”

“That leaves us with only a few suspects.” you countered, leaning in closer, rolling a plump grape between your fingers.

“Indeed,” he replied, shifting in his seat, “But my wager is on Macrinus.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms, challenging his assertion. “Do you honestly think he’s that ambitious? Surely it is some sort of breach of conduct to obtain my correspondence and report to your father regarding your every whim.”

“He has been whispering in Geta’s ear since the unfortunate passing of Plautianus.” He snickered, finishing off his wine and fixed his gaze on you, “Ambition spreads like a plague within these walls.”

He set down his wine cup again, looking around as courtiers, senators, and servants bustled about the lavish dining hall surrounding you both.

“Is this what you have been doing all morning?” he asked, a hint of accusation in his voice, “Leading your own investigation?”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” you replied sarcastically, “I am merely enjoying breakfast, unlike some people.”

“Like I said,” he said, standing and looking down at you with a challenging glare, “there is always a motive here.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Anxiety snaked tightly around you as you made your way to your quarters in search of solace. The night spent in Caracalla’s chambers had offered no restful sleep; instead, you found yourself waking unceremoniously on the chaise by his balcony, time and again, while he lay sprawled across his bed, a thin sheet barely covering his bare ass, snoring and mumbling like a drunken soldier. It had felt strange to seek refuge in his quarters, united by the turmoil brought about by his father’s hand.

It was easy to crawl in your bed and get lost amongst the silky sheets. Having not slept properly the night before, you allowed yourself to be pulled under, letting sleep claim you without a fight.

You woke suddenly, a weight pressing you down, your breath caught in surprise as your body refused to move. Above you, a pair of pale eyes—hazy and unrelenting, like the sky before a storm—fixed themselves on you. Their intensity felt heavier than the body that held them. It took a moment for your senses to settle, for your vision to clear, and when it did, you realized Caracalla’s body was tangled with yours—his legs draped over your left thigh, his hands planted on either side of your head as though framing you.

There was no telling how long he had been there, silently watching, and it was clear he had no intention of stopping then, even though you had caught him. You let your eyes roam over his face, taking in the rough texture of his pale skin, like polished, blighted marble under the soft glow of a torch. His pupils shifted, dark and wide, as they moved over you, drinking in every detail, the quiet between you charged with something unspoken.

“Will you have me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you gazed up at him. You knew all too well how Caracalla’s moods shifted like the tides—unpredictable and dangerous. The effort to stay steady, not to be swept away by his waves, weighed heavily on you.

He nodded, silent but certain, and tugged his tunic over his head, baring his silken chest to the flickering lamplight. You remained still, letting him take the lead, scared that even the slightest misstep might stir his infamous temper or send him retreating into the shadows. His hands moved with surprising care as he slipped your toga down your slender form, letting it fall away to the ground to reveal your body beneath.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stared, locked in a gaze that spoke more than any words could, as the last barrier between your bodies was cast aside. The air between you was heavy, charged, and waiting.

You felt the heaviness of his cock against the soft skin of your thigh as he worked himself rhythmically, his closeness stirring a deep ache within you, a tension that spread like fire beneath your skin. The intimacy of the moment caught you unguarded, raw, and unspoken. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to yours, his breath mingling with your own. Unable to resist, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting softly before his mouth overtook yours. He sighed into you, his resolve melting as he met your kiss. Your tongues tangled, slow at first, then urgent, as though the space between you had collapsed entirely.

You opened your legs for him, this time by your own will. Yet, as he moved to settle himself between them, his breath, warm and uneven against your neck, suddenly stilled. His movements ceased, and a heavy sigh escaped him, brushing against your skin.

“It is not—” he began, his voice taut with frustration, “I cannot—”

He propped himself up, looking down at you with a furrowed brow, his expression a storm of shame and anger. Unsure of what to say or do, you felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks as your gaze drifted downward to his softened cock.

“Is it me?” you asked quietly, half-ashamed.

He let out another sigh, his eyes closing as though in pain. “It is not for lack of desire, I swear it.”

“Is there something I can do?” you asked, sitting up, clutching the sheet to your chest, suddenly feeling the weight of self-consciousness.

“No.” His reply was short, and he rose abruptly, pulling his tunic over his head forcefully. He avoided your gaze as he reached for the wine on the bedside table, pouring himself a cup with trembling hands.

The crash startled you. He had flung the cup against the wall, the red wine streaking down like blood spilled from a gaping wound, pooling darkly on the marble floor.

“Get out,” he growled, his voice low but heavy with restrained fury.

“These are my chambers,” you reminded him, pulling the sheet tighter around you, trying to steady your voice.

“Get out, Prima.” His tone was colder now, his warning unmistakable.

Swallowing your pride, you hurriedly adjusted your toga, your hands fumbling to secure it in place. You retrieved your veil, crumpled between the pillows, and made your exit with hastened steps.

Outside, as you slipped your sandals back on, the crash of objects breaking echoed through the wooden door, followed by a muffled scream that sent a shiver down your spine. You clenched your fists, your breath steadying. Though you had lost this battle, somewhere deep within, hope remained—for the war was not yet over.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As you stepped inside the temple of Juno, you were immediately enveloped by a sense of tranquility. There had always been something about Juno that stirred you, but now, with your own marriage in turmoil, you felt a deeper connection to her. Her struggles with Jupiter mirrored your own in ways you had not fully grasped before. As the patron goddess of the empire, it felt right to ask for help as Augusta yourself. A child granted by Juno’s favor would surely be blessed, a gift of divine intervention. Marital help could wait, you told yourself. For now, you had one prayer, and it was for a child.

The air was cool and inviting, a welcome contrast to the warm sunlight outside. Delicate frescoes depicted scenes from Juno's mythology—her fierce protectiveness over women, her role in the great tales of heroism, and the beauty of marriage. Each brushstroke told a story, and you would have allowed yourself to be swept up by every tale if you had not been on a mission.

The temple was supported by regal, marble columns, their surfaces gleaming, reflecting the light from the stained glass windows onto their polished surfaces. The soaring ceiling was painted in rich hues of blue and gold, much like the sky at dawn, and you found yourself looking towards the heavens at its beauty.

As you moved deeper into the temple, you came upon the central altar, an imposing structure made of polished stone, carved with symbols of Juno—a peacock, representing beauty and pride, and a scepter, symbolizing power. The altar was adorned with offerings left by devoted worshippers: fresh flowers in vibrant colors, fruits from the harvest, and fragrant incense that filled the air with a sweet, calming aroma.

Juno’s statue stood front and center on the altar, surrounded by statues of different sizes, each capturing her essence in their own way. Some portrayed her as a regal figure in flowing robes, while others depicted her in a more maternal light, holding a child or surrounded by symbols of family.

“Your Excellency,” a priest approached, bowing his head in reverence, “it is an honor to stand in your divine presence.”

Upon his head sat a laurel crown, its fresh green leaves glistened with dew, a symbol of both honor and divine favor of the goddess herself. You remembered him from your wedding day- specifically how the laurel matched his deepset, green eyes.

Cassia presented to you a basket brimming with fragrant lilies, glistening white candles, a flask of the finest vintage wine, and a jar of the sweetest honey ever tasted. With a wave of your hand, you dismissed her to take her place outside the temple, accompanied by your assigned praetorians. You felt assured, having sent word ahead to the temple of your arrival, requesting both discretion and a sacred space in which to invoke the goddess.

“I trust that my offering has been prepared,” you remarked.

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Follow me.”

You trailed behind him to the rear of the temple, descending a flight of marble stairs into an atrium of sorts. The soft glow of white candles illuminated the room, their flickering flames dancing upon the golden statues that adorned the shelves embedded in the walls. At the center of the chamber lay a medium-sized tiled bathing pool, set into the floor.

As you approached, the distant bleating of a lamb reached your ears.

"We shall begin when you are prepared," the priest stated with a respectful nod. With a sense of dignity, you removed your robes, standing tall before the gaze of the goddess.

At that moment, another priest entered the chamber, leading a lamb, adorned in a flowing white robe accented with a rich purple trim at the hem, wearing the same radiant laurel crown you had seen earlier.

Both priests raised the lamb above your head, their voices intertwining as they recited ancient prayers to the goddess, carefully steadying the creature before making the first cut. You closed your eyes, centering your thoughts on the heavens. As the warm blood began to cascade over your face and down your neck and shoulders, you raised your voice proudly to the goddess, proclaiming your devotion and intent:

“We adore thee Goddess, we invoke you, Juno, for it is written that you will bless those who call upon you and sacrifice to you. I pray to you, Goddess Juno, and offer these gifts so that you may favor my house and household.”

As you stood there, your thoughts continued to drift back to Caracalla—the way he had faltered just hours before, leaving you feeling a mix of frustration and concern. It was hard not to dwell on the sacrifices you had made and would continue to make, all in the hopes of giving him an heir.

The weight of your marriage pressed down upon you, and you only felt relief when you stepped into the bathing pool, submerging yourself as the thick blood mingled with the warm water.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As you knelt before the grand statue in the main hall, redressed and feeling lighter, you pressed a gentle kiss to the goddess’s feet. The lilies were arranged just right, symbols of your devotion, a reflection of what you desired and prayed the goddess could help you with.

You dipped the candle ends into the honey, feeling the sticky sweetness as you prepared to light them. The oil lamp glowed warmly as you ignited the first candle. One by one, the other candles caught fire, illuminating the space around you as you set them in the designated holder.

You poured the wine, its rich color glistening in the candlelight, and set the bottle down with care. As you whispered the prayer again, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. Closing your eyes, you let the words sink deep, hoping that the goddess would hear your heart.

Suddenly, your moment of peace in the temple was broken by another presence. Before you could even open your eyes to see who it was, he spoke, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“I cannot believe there is still a lamb left to sacrifice after your wedding. They must have sacrificed so many that the whole flock is nearly extinct.” Geta knelt beside you, a smirk on his face.

You quipped with a serious face, “Shall I offer you as the next sacrifice? Surely, one of your esteemed stature would grant me favor with the goddess.”

Geta laughed, the sound sharp and out of place in the quiet of the room. “Ironic, is it not? Not even a full cycle of Luna has passed, and you are already making offerings to save your fragile union.”

He seized your hand, running the edge of his nail beneath your own with deliberate care. A thin line of blood appeared, evidence of the sacrifice, vivid against your skin. He drew it to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted it, a sly smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you think your husband knows how devout his wife truly is? So unwavering in her dedication?” Geta’s tone dripped with mockery, each word drawn out as though savoring the chance to provoke.

“Why are you here, Geta?” you asked, weariness lacing your words. His constant mockery was like salting an open wound, relentless and cruel.

He tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over your face with the precision of a blade. “Tell me,” he said, his voice like silky steel, “do you know what your husband does while you linger here in the temple, like a devout little dove?”

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the statue before you. “What, pray tell, is he doing now?”

You rose to your feet, giving him a silent nod to lead the way. The journey back to Palatine Hill drew curious glances as Geta’s guards merged with your own, their strides echoing in the narrow streets. You walked side by side, close enough to appear united yet distant enough that the silence between the two of you felt natural, you would offer him no word or glance to break the tension.

Rome pulsed with life around you. The aroma of fresh-baked bread mingled with the earthy scent of clay and smoke, a reminder of the city's crowded living spaces, where families lived stacked upon one another. Cassia, ever dutiful at your side, stole glances when she thought you would not notice. Her unease was palpable, and you made a mental note to instruct her in masking her emotions—though you could hardly claim to be a master yourself. Your jaw clenched tighter with every step, the pressure so fierce your teeth threatened to shatter.

As you approached the grand imperial palace, the atmosphere remained unchanged. You waved dismissively to Cassia while Geta signaled his soldiers to depart. Your own guard bowed in respect, and you returned the gesture with a simple wave of your hand.

Leaving the atrium, you trailed a few steps behind Geta as he strode down a lengthy corridor, ascending a flight of gilded steps that led to the private chambers of the palace. Upon reaching the threshold of his quarters, he paused and beckoned you inside with a wave from the doorway.

“This is a bad idea, and you are well aware of it,” you replied, shaking your head in disapproval, “You know Caracalla has requested that I do not converse with you under any circumstances.”

“You can either come with me or stand there like a fool,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Your choice.”

With a reluctant sigh, you stepped into his quarters, moving just enough for him to close the door behind you.

“What happens next?” you asked, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

He led you across the room to another door, swinging it open to reveal his impressive study—similar in grandeur to Caracalla’s. Just as you suspected, he slid aside a panel next to a bookcase, revealing a hidden passageway, the same one he had guided you through on your wedding night when Caracalla had been passed out. You navigated the narrow corridor, following Geta, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat.

“I have had enough of these secret passages, of hidden motives and lies,” you admitted with a heavy sigh. “And I am emotionally drained from dealing with the fragile egos of you and your brother. I am sick from whiplash due to both of your ever changing moods. Have we not moved on from those childish days in Sicilia?”

Geta paused for a moment, the flickering torch light illuminating his features. “You speak as though we have tormented you day in and day out for years. I assure you, it was and will never be personal.”

“What is life if it is not personal, Geta?” you inquired sincerely.

“It is merely a game, Prima. We play the cards we are dealt.” He turned, his gaze thoughtfully assessing your expression. “Do not feign ignorance. You are indeed playing your hand, I have observed it myself.”

“Make sure you cover yourself up properly,” he said, glancing at the veil you wore, adjusting it to better hide your profile. “And take off that necklace.”

Feeling confused, you did as he asked, surprised when he took the necklace from you and placed it gently over the bridge of your nose, fastening it at the back of your head.

“To hide your face,” he explained.

“Hide my face from what?” you asked, but before he could reply, he slid the door open.

He stepped into the chamber, his silhouette suddenly illuminated by the flickering candlelight, a hazy cloud of incense swirling around him like a mist. With a graceful gesture, he extended his hand toward you, and before you could second-guess your instincts, you accepted it, allowing him to guide you from the dim corridor.

Before you, a scene of unabashed hedonism played out, where pleasure took precedence. Bodies entwined on every available surface; no lectus was spared from the terror of lovers lost in ecstasy. The air was thick with a chorus of moans and sighs, punctuated by the occasional sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh.

The chamber itself seemed to have once served as a sleeping quarters, now transformed into a sanctuary of indulgence. An elevated bed rested against the wall, draped in sheer curtains that obscured its occupants, their movements a hazy blur. In the area where you and Geta had entered, a grand table stood opposite, filled with exotic fruits and succulent roasted meats, inviting guests to partake in the feast while they watched the show. They swayed gently to the sultry melodies played by skilled musicians on lyres and flutes, the atmosphere alive and electric.

Geta guided you further into the chamber, his presence momentarily undetected as he settled into a high-backed chair that afforded him a prime view of the bed’s occupants. You lingered before him, your senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, when he suddenly drew you down to sit on his lap.

“Geta—” you protested, a hint of disapproval in your voice, “this is highly inappropriate.”

“Amidst all around us, you single this out as inappropriate?” he quipped, a playful smirk on his lips. “Sit still and enjoy the moment.”

His words hung in the air, a blend of mischief and allure, as the curtains on the bed began to sway, promising a view of its occupants lost in their own worlds.

There, amidst a tangle of hands and mouths, Caracalla lay sprawled in the center of the bed. His eyes were tightly shut, back arched away from the mattress as a woman stroked his cock with a dizzying rhythm—first lazily from root to tip, then with a fervor that blurred her hand around his delicate member. His toes curled, and his eyes rolled back as his seed spilled onto the woman’s fist, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

You tensed in Geta’s lap, torn between horror and fascination as the scene unfolded before you. Caracalla’s cock, spent yet firm against his thigh, filled you with a wave of shame as you recalled how flaccid he had been hovering over your own bare form earlier in the day.

Surrounded by three women, you watched as they descended upon him like vultures. The petite one mounted him, her cunt swallowing his spent cock in a single fluid motion. She rode him without pause, her gaze fixed on the other two girls who writhed at the head of the bed, their moans rising and falling in a symphony of pleasure as Caracalla’s fingers danced in and around their cunts, his ministrations causing them to lose all sense of reason as evident by their sounds.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to block out the pulsing sensation. Sensing your turmoil, Geta placed his hands on your hips, guiding you to press down and grind your damp cunt into the firm flesh of his thigh.

“No,” you breathed, inhaling shakily as you pushed his hands away.

A stunning woman approached the two of you, and you stood, excusing yourself from the scene. You watched as she led Geta away, his head turning back towards you, a fleeting look of longing crossing his features as you slipped away toward the panel, revealing the hidden corridor. It was only once you reached the solitude of your quarters that you finally allowed your mask to fall, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took exactly a week to ready Cassia, building her confidence for the task ahead. Though you had been anxious at first, desperation had a way of gnawing straight to the bone. Once you accepted the reality of your situation, you knew it was time to act—to wound Caracalla as deeply as he had wounded you.

It was common knowledge that Septimius had generously gifted you part of his late wife’s collection: a set of ruby rings, the golden diadem he had placed upon your head on your wedding day, and a striking emerald necklace. Of all these treasures, the rubies had become your favorite, their deep crimson a perfect match for your heirloom wrist cuffs, which you chose for your daily attire.

Cassia took pride in her role, carefully preparing each piece as you dressed daily, her timing impeccable as she laid them out. She beamed whenever she knew she had chosen well, her satisfaction a quiet victory. Though she was still reserved, Cassia had begun to open up, sharing bits of her life before becoming a servant of the palace. She spoke of her family, her village, and, to your surprise, revealed that the two of you shared a name day.

“Perhaps this is the gods’ way of blessing our budding friendship,” you said with a smile, resting your hand gently on her forearm.

“Perhaps, your excellency,” she replied, her cheeks flushing with color.

“I must admit, I detest such formality,” you said, tilting your head with a playful grin. “You may call me Prima.”

“I could never,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It would be dishonorable.”

“I believe it falls to me to decide what is and is not a dishonor,” you reassured her, your tone soft but firm.

Over the next few days, you spoke candidly with Cassia, sharing glimpses of your life before becoming Augusta. You told stories of fleeting childhood encounters with the Imperator and his sons with personal anecdotes, revealing just enough to make her feel at ease.

As the seeds of friendship began to take root, you started to stitch together the threads of your larger scheme.

“Cassia,” you asked one morning as she fastened the clasps on your tunic, “have you ever been to the villa that houses the concubines?”

“I… have not,” she admitted, her hands pausing briefly before returning to their task. “Though I am close with one of the regular servants stationed there.”

You nodded, your expression neutral as you combed your hair before the looking glass, watching her reflection as she carefully selected a veil to complement your attire.

Two days later, as you strolled through the rose garden, Cassia presented a petite blonde girl to you.

“Your excellency, may I introduce Metella,” she said, her tone light yet tinged with nerves.

The girl, no older than Cassia, bowed low. You tilted your head, studying her with quiet curiosity.

“She works at the villa, your excellency,” Cassia added, offering context, doing your bidding without you having to ask her to.

“Yes, of course,” you replied with a measured nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Metella.”

“The pleasure is mine, your excellency,” Metella said softly, her faint smile barely reaching her eyes.

You spent a good portion of the afternoon in their company, walking the garden paths. Cassia and Metella trailed close behind, pausing whenever you stopped to smell a set of roses. At your direction, they clipped the blossoms you favored. As they worked, Metella spoke in hushed tones about the villa.

“Behind the palace,” she began, her voice just above a whisper as she clipped another rose, “up the gravel road that leads away from the stables, there is a villa. Three ladies live there now.”

You nodded, already certain of whom she spoke, but said nothing as the pieces of your plan continued to fall into place.

You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. The speed of your movement caught Cassia and Metella off guard, and they nearly stumbled into you.

“If I asked a favor of you both, would you consider it?” you asked, your tone calm but carrying a weight that left no room for dismissal.

The girls exchanged a glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Cassia was the first to respond, her face lighting up with a genuine smile.

“Anything for you, your excellency,” she said, bowing low. You couldn’t help but smile softly at her devotion. Metella quickly followed suit, her bow a little less confident. It was in that moment you knew—the plan would succeed.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took two days to carefully craft every detail. You scrutinized the scheme in your mind, playing out every scenario until you felt confident enough for the plan to officially be carried out.

Late one night, under the cover of darkness, you met Cassia and Metella in the stables. The air was thick with tension as the girls paced nervously, their movements quick and uncertain. You had already arranged for the stable hands to be elsewhere, ensuring complete privacy.

“There will be panic,” you began, your voice low and deliberate, “and the servants’ quarters will be turned upside down in the search for these jewels. But if you listen carefully and follow my instructions exactly, no blame will fall on either of you.”

Both girls nodded, their wide eyes fixed on you as you reached beneath your cloak and produced a small satin bag.

“In the morning, Metella, place a piece of jewelry into each of their jewelry boxes after you have dressed them and they have left the villa,” you instructed. “Metella, once it is done, come straight to my quarters.”

Metella nodded, her trembling hands reaching for the bag. She tucked it into her satchel, her knuckles pale from holding the satchel so tightly.

“If, at any point, you feel frightened or unable to carry out the task, return the jewels to me immediately,” you said, your tone softening slightly. But then your expression hardened, and the faint moonlight caught the sharp edge of your gaze.

“And know this—if either of you breathes a word of this plan to another soul, I will see you crucified. Your entrails will hang from the city walls, and your families will be exiled to the furthest, most desolate rock beneath the sun.”

The chilling threat lingered in the air. Cassia and Metella glanced at each other nervously.

They turned back to you and nodded, their expressions solemn.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning of, you could not stop pacing your chambers, every detail of the plan playing on a loop in your mind. You woke early, bathing slowly, letting the warm water and scented oils calm your nerves. By the time you dressed and added the finishing touches, you felt more prepared—or at least looked the part.

Cassia appeared in your doorway, her hair slightly out of place and worry etched on her face.

“Your excellency, am I late?” she asked, her voice small.

“I am merely early,” you said, smoothing the folds of your tunic as you checked yourself in the looking glass. You barely had a moment to exhale before the door slammed open, and Metella rushed in.

“It is done,” she said, breathless and quiet.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral even as your pulse quickened. “Good. Now, listen carefully. I need both of you to prepare an offering to Juno in my name. Once you have gathered what is needed, go to her temple and spend the day praying—ask her to grant me an heir. Do not return to the palace until dusk.”

They exchanged a glance but nodded quickly, bowing their heads.

“I will give you enough time to get ready before I speak with the Imperator,” you said firmly. “You are dismissed.”

The door shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening. You leaned against your dressing table, gripping its edge to steady yourself. For a moment, you let the mask drop, your fear bubbling to the surface. Taking a shaky breath, you whispered a prayer—not just to Juno, but for the strength to face what was coming. You could only hope the Imperator would not see right through you.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Prima, what a delightful surprise,” Septimius exclaimed as you approached the table on his sunlit terrace. He nodded, dismissing the praetorian who had guided you inside, returning him to his post.

“I hope I am not intruding,” you said, glancing down at the imperator’s feet, which rested in a basin filled with amber liquid.

“Ah, the trials of age, nothing more,” he reassured you, gesturing for you to take a seat across from him. He poured a cup of rich wine and offered it to you. You nodded in gratitude as his gaze searched your face.

“What troubles you?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly.

“What do you mean?” you replied, taking a sip from your cup, feigning innocence.

“There is a shadow of worry behind those lovely eyes,” he noted, crossing his hands on the table.

You sighed and set your cup down. “I am embarrassed, Imperator,” you began, watching as his brows knitted together, “something has occurred.”

“What has happened, Prima?” he asked, leaning in closer, his concern evident.

“The rubies you gifted me, the ones that belonged to your late wife—I fear they have gone missing.” You covered your face in shame as he reached out to grasp your wrist gently.

“When did this happen?” he pressed, his delicate grip urging you to speak.

“I noticed this morning,” you murmured, “I sent my two servants to the temple of Juno at dawn, instructing them to make offerings in my honor and not to return until dusk.” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “I dressed myself to meet with my father, to catch up on family matters, but when I went to retrieve the rubies from their resting place, they were gone.”

Septimius sighed, leaning back in his chair, stroking the gray stubble on his chin. “Have you confided in Caracalla?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“He is not pleased that I wear his mother’s jewelry,” you admitted. “He has threatened to take them from me and give them to his courtesans if I continue to wear them. He thinks me unworthy.”

Septimius’s eyes narrowed. “He still indulges with his courtesans?”

“Please, your excellency, do not say it was I who revealed this,” you implored, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, asking for his discretion.

“I have heard whispers that the three he favors have taken residence in the villa behind the stables.” You spoke softly, shame flooding your cheeks.

Septimius straightened, his jaw tightening as he regarded you. “Spend the day with your father, and allow me to address this matter,” he instructed, and you nodded solemnly. “Exercise the utmost discretion and speak of this to no one else.”

“Of course.” You rose, but he caught your hand before you could express your gratitude and leave his quarters.

“Everything shall be well in due time,” he promised, kissing your knuckles as he met your gaze.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Word spread like wildfire through the bustling halls of the palace, as the praetorians stormed the servants’ quarters, tearing through each room, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. It wasn’t long before you learned the news: the jewelry had been found in the possession of Antonia, Tullia, and Marcella, the ladies residing in the villa behind the stables.

As soon as the jewelry was found tucked away in each lady’s respective jewelry box, the villa was locked down tight, with guards stationed to ensure no one could slip in or out, all by the direct order of the Imperator. The three women were swiftly banished from the palace and exiled to the farthest reaches of the empire, their families shamed by their actions, forced to join them in their sentencing. It was truly a stroke of luck that they still had their heads on their shoulders, for the Imperator could have dealt them a harsher fate.

Your plan had worked like a charm, unfolding just as you had hoped. The pieces fell into place perfectly, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how it all turned out.

As night descended and you faced the weight of your choices, you let your emotions wrap around you like a heavy blanket—neither ashamed nor particularly proud, but feeling as though you had sunk lower than expected. Shaking off such thoughts, you turned to the polished bronze mirror on your dressing table, brushing aside the strands of hair that clung to your neck and wiping away the remnants of kohl from your eyes.

It was then that the echoes of an angry voice grew louder, approaching your quarters. You sprang to your feet, frozen in place, the sheer fabric of your gown pooling around your feet as your gaze fixed on the door.

When Caracalla burst in, you remained still.

“You!” he spat through clenched teeth, flinging a handful of precious ruby rings in your direction. “You deceitful, rancid wench!” He advanced, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“You have made a fool of me!” He seized your shoulders, shaking you with fury.

“You’ve done that to yourself!” You pulled away, but he was quick to grasp you again, forcing you backward until your back hit the wall beside the door.

“I was merely reclaiming what is rightfully mine,” you declared, holding your head high, “what was taken from me.”

“What was taken from you,” he sneered, his arms pinning you in place as his hands braced against the wall on either side of your head. “Nothing here belongs to you.”

You struggled against his grip, but he pressed you closer to the wall with his own body.

“If we are to claim our rights, then I shall take what is mine.”

With a sudden motion, he hoisted you by the back of your thighs, slamming your back against the wall once more. You protested, pushing against his shoulders and striking at his solid flesh, but he merely laughed, relishing the moment as he held you against the wall, lifting your gown to expose your bare form.

“Deceitful wench,” he hissed through gritted teeth, yanking down the collar of your gown to reveal your neck and collarbones. You cried out as a sharp sting pierced the skin between your neck and shoulder, his incisors biting into your flesh. He pressed harder, a trickle of blood staining the sheer fabric of your gown.

You felt paralyzed, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as he pulled back, wrestling with his toga, his hands trembling with rage.

He held you so tightly that it started to hurt, burying himself deep inside you, lifting you off the wall with every thrust. He devoured the tender flesh of your neck and chest, biting, kissing, and sucking, his teeth grazing your soft skin.

All you could do was hang on to him, clinging to him so fiercely that it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

With a loud grunt, he spilled himself within you, letting his head drop between your shoulder and neck as he gasped for breath. When he pulled back to look at you, he searched your face just as you searched his. Both of you were left wondering what had just happened and why it stirred feelings in you that you had never felt before.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

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#damnatio memoriae #emperor caracalla fred hechinger #emperor caracalla x reader x emperor geta #emperor geta joseph quinn #emperor geta x ofc #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii fanfiction #emperor caracalla x reader

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peachesyeo · 1 year ago

Text

the bet ── beomgyu

💌 parings: rival!beomgyu x male!reader 💌 genre: smut, rivals to lovers 💌 contains: top!gyu, bottom!reader, softdom!gyu, virgin!reader, beomgyu is a little shit, beomgyu has a long-time crush on reader, strong language, vaping (please don't vape) petnames (baby boy, baby, prince), safe sex (wrap it before you do it), drunk consensual sex, oral (reader receiving), praising, i have a thing for soft gyu so here it is, our favourite party guy & wingman jackson wang, brief mention of enhypen's heeseung. 💌 word count: 2.7k words

➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢�� 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

Second place. Again.

You glared at the announcement in front of you, your hands curled into a ball of fist. Your eyes traveled over to the name on top of yours and you bit your lower lip, frustrated.

Choi fucking Beomgyu.

From young, that little fucker has always been in first place in every little and big contests or examinations the both of you attended.

Every. Single. Darn. Time.

Choi Beomgyu takes the throne.

To make matters worst, Beomgyu knows that it irritates you. You are a very, very competitive person from young, and Beomgyu knows. He knows.

"Look who it is! L/n!" A hand clapped on your back as Beomgyu put his arm around your shoulder, his voice gleeful. "Why the long face, huh?"

"Fuck off, Choi." You hissed, swatting his arm off you and turning to face him. That jerk had a smug smirk on his face, one that you would do anything to wipe it off. He whined dramatically, holding his hand that you just hit. "Ouch! It hurts, L/n! C'mon, don't be such a sour grape. It's just a little test, don't let that get to your fragile little ego."

It took almost all of your will to not punch that asshole in the face. You gave him a nasty expression, bumping into his shoulder as you walked back to the lecture hall. But who is Choi Beomgyu? A smug and devious asshole who wouldn't leave you alone.

The both of you didn’t start like this. You vaguely remember being best friends with Beomgyu in elementary school, but it all changed during middle school.

Beomgyu changed.

He caught up with you pretty quickly, walking alongside you. "Do you want to make a bet with me?" He asked, tilting his head towards the side as he did so. You paused, looking at him with a suspicious expression. "No. Now fuck off and leave me alone."

"I'll do whatever you want if you win." Beomgyu said quickly. You raised a brow at him, not believing a word that comes out of his mouth. "I'm serious."

"What kind of bet?" Fine. You were convinced. You begin to think about what you want Beomgyu to do after winning. Should you ask him to buy you breakfast from that really popular waffle store for a month? Or maybe you'll have him record a silly video that you can blackmail him for the future.

On second thought, Beomgyu might be too thick-skinned for that.

"You know Lee Heeseung? The guy from computer science? His senior Jackson Wang is hosting a party and invited the entire course this Saturday. Since Biology is just next door he invited us too." Beomgyu jabbed his hand towards the building right beside. You nodded, frowning. "What do you want me to do?"

"Attend the party and beat me in a game." The smug smile reappeared on Beomgyu's face. You scowled at him. "What's the catch?" You questioned. Beomgyu widened his eyes. "Catch? There's no catch. Just win me and I'll do whatever you want. But if I win..." He paused slightly, another smirk creeping onto his face. "You'll do whatever I ask of you."

You licked your lips nervously. Should you trust Beomgyu?

"I understand that you might be scared, L/n. " Beomgyu sighed mockingly. "Well, it seems like you can never beat me-" "I'll go." You cut him off through gritted teeth. Beomgyu clapped his hands together, grinning. "Good. See you at the party than, baby boy. Don't be late!" He winked, walking off.

You stood rooted at your ground in shock. Blush crept to your face as you realised what Beomgyu had called you. To make matters worst, your heart actually fluttered at his words. You slapped your face lightly, attempting to wake yourself up.

Fucking Choi Beomgyu. You thought.

The weekend arrived pretty soon.

The house was loud. You weaved through the crowd of talking people, holding a cup of punch in your hand (that someone stuffed it to your hand while you walked by). Everyone looks unfamiliar to you, but somehow, they all seem to know you.

"M/n L/n!" You hear your name being called. Turning around, you saw a male with blond hair walking towards you. You took a once-over at him: split blond hair, shades on top of his head, black outfit and a pair of sweat pants.

Nope, you have never seen this guy in your life before.

"Hi, I'm Jackson Wang." The male hold out his hand and flashed you a winning smile. Ah, this guy is the host of this party, you thought as you shook his hand. "I'm M/n L/n... But I guess you already know that."

Jackson grinned. "Of course! You're famous, don't you know that?" He said. You blinked in confusion and Jackson let out a short laugh. "Well, everyone in the campus know about you." He shrugged.

"Oh." That's all you could say.

Jackson tutted. "I'm a little surprise when they told me you were here... I thought Beomgyu was pulling my leg when he told me you were coming. Guess shit isn't the only thing that comes out of his mouth everytime." He shrugged, sending you a knowing grin. Your eyes flashed at the mention of Beomgyu and your grip on your cup of punch tightened. "Where is he?"

"Come with me." Jackson beckoned. You followed him up the stairs and into the first room. Beomgyu was sitting in there, a vape to his mouth. Your heart skips a beat at how attractive he looks, but your mind was rational. "Choi."

"Oh! You really came, baby boy." Your face heats up again at that petname. "Don't call me that!" You hissed, failing to notice that Jackson had already sneaked out of the room and locked the door behind him. Beomgyu inhaled the vape, his lips curled into a lazy smirk. "Okay okay, relax, L/n. Just hoping to ease the tension."

"What are we betting on?" You observed your surroundings. A black, queen-sized bed set in the middle of the room, a silk canopy hanging over it. A red armchair sat next to the bed, while Beomgyu occupies the other. There was also a large TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed. Beomgyu pointed to the gaming console beneath it.

"Rocket League. Ten games. If you lose, you drink half a bottle of soju." He pointed over to the corner where 10 bottles of soju stood waiting. You raised your chin. "Bets on."

It didn't take long until you two reached the seventh game, where you had already drank 2 bottles and a half of soju. You let out a groan of fustration as Beomgyu's racing car passed the finish line on the screen, and your hand reached for the bottle of soju that you've finished.

"Wait, L/n." Beomgyu stopped you, but you shook his hand off. "I lose, Choi, let me drink." You said stubbornly, putting the mouth of the bottle to your lips. You let the alcohol burn your throat as Beomgyu watched from beside you. "I lost. "

"You did." Beomgyu's voice was strangely quiet. One empty bottle stood beside him. You coughed, putting the bottle down. Your head was spinning slightly as you looked at Beomgyu. "What do you want from me?"

Since when was he this close to you? You vaguely remembered Beomgyu was two pillows away from you, but now he was right beside you. You stared blankly at him as he leaned closer to your face, and you could smell the sweet artificial scent of the vape he used earlier. "What do I want from you... That is a good question..."

Your eyes travelled from him eyes, his nose, and to his plump lips. You licked your own dry ones, your voice small. "Yah, Choi Beomgyu-"

He didn't let you finish. Crashing his lips onto yours, one of Beomgyu's hands went to the back of your head, while the other pulled your waist closer to him. You feel him biting your lower lip, asking for permission. In your fuzzy state of mind, you allowed him to enter, exploring your mouth.

Beomgyu taste like strawberries. He was sweet, his tongue dancing with yours as his other hand slowly went up to grip your chin. You closed your eyes, allowing him to do as he pleased.

When he pulled away, you were panting. Beomgyu straddled you, his pretty face flushed. You lay beneath him, watching his adams apple bobbed nervously. "You..."

"I want you, pretty boy." Beomgyu's fingers trailed down your chest, his eyes darkening as lewd thoughts form in his mind. "I want you, L/n." His hand reached your abdomen, twirling circles through your thin shirt. "I want to make you mine, L/n." Your breath hitched at the possessiveness of his voice. "Will you let me?"

Your head was empty. Even though you dislike Beomgyu, you couldn't deny the fact that you thought he was attractive.

A part of you still like him. A part of you still misses that cheerful boy who played with you in elementary school.

"What if I say no?" You whispered. Something flashed past Beomgyu’s eyes. Was it anger? Or was it sadness? You don't know. His voice was hoarse and throaty as he spoke. "Then I will let you out of this room. Call me petty, M/n, but I will beat you in every single competition or exam you sign up for. I will always be the first place."

Your heart ran wildly at his words. Beomgyu leaned downwards, his lips barely above yours. He grabbed your hand, pressing it to his lips gently. "It's the only way you could notice me, M/n..." He confessed, pressing his lips gently on yours once more.

Your arms moved on their own accord, reaching up to cup his face. Compared to the kiss just now, this one was gentler, softer. When the both of you parted, your answer was barely above a whisper. "Okay."

With your permission, Beomgyu's lips moved down to your neck, biting and suckling the skin on there. His other hand cupped your arousal, gently palming it through your pants. You let out a breathy groan, muttering his name. "Gyu..."

"I haven't heard that name from you in so long..." Beomgyu sighed, pressing light kissing across your skin as he moved down. "I really like the way my name comes out of your mouth, baby boy." He said, the cool tip of his fingers brushing past your nipple. You squeaked in surprise, your arm moving up to cover your face as he rolled the bud in between his fingers. "Ughh...Mhmm..."

"You're cute, prince." Even though you could not see his face, you know that Beomgyu is smiling. He removed your pants swiftly, pressing a kiss on your erection through your underwear. You twitched at his actions, letting out a suppressed sob. "Dont... P-please..."

"I know, prince." He slowly tug the fabric down, revealing your cock. You whimpered as he pressed a kiss on your tip, sticking a little of his tongue to lick at the slit. "Mhmm... You taste good, prince..."

You bit your lip, looking down at Beomgyu. He was kneeling betweem your legs, his hands now holding either of your thighs apart. No, one of them has wrapped around the base of your balls, gently massaging them. You look away in embarrassment, but Beomgyu patted your thigh with his other hand. "Look at me, baby." He said. You removed your arm from your eyes, following his instructions.

Seeing that you followed his instructions, the tips of Beomgyu's lips curled upwards. You watch him sank his head on your cock, and you threw your head back, moaning. "G-gyu, slow d-down!"

Beomgyu wasn't listening. He was sucking and licking on your cock like a lollipop, desperately bobbing his head up and down. With one of his fingers testingly circling your rim, Beomgyu hummed, the vibrations of his throat stimulating your cock.

Tears sprang to your eyes. "Gy-gyu, please! I need... I need t-" You babbled, your other hand gripping the carpet on the floor. Beomgyu removed his mouth from your cock, now jerking you off with his hands. "Go on, prince. Be a good boy and cum for me."

With his encouraging words, you came with a cry. White spurts of cum landed on your stomach, some spilling onto Beomgyu's jeans. Beomgyu crawled over you, pushing your shirt up and lapping on your nipples while you recover. Your fingers find his hair, tugging on them when you feel his teeth grazing your bud. "G-gyu..."

"Hmm?" He answered, looking up at you lazily. You look away from his eyes, biting the insides of your cheek. "If you w-want to... Want to take it to the n-next level..."

Beomgyu stared at you. "You're okay with that?" He asked. You nodded, closing your eyes. "But I've never done that before..."

Without warning, Beomgyu carried you up from under your arms and placed you onto the bed. You yelped in surprise as Beomgyu placed either of his knees on your sides. He took off the sweater he was wearing, throwing it to the floor where your pants and underwear are.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your eyes tracing the outline of his abs. Beomgyu grinned at your reaction. "Like what you see, prince?" He teased, reaching behind you. You hear him opening a drawer as his other hand grabbed your ankle. "Prop yourself with some pillows, prince."

You quickly followed his instructions, grabbing the nearest pillow and putting them below your neck. With a pop, Beomgyu poured lube over his fingers and your rim. You hissed at the coolness, tensing up.

"Now, I want you to choose a word. If you feel any discomfort, say the word and I'll stop immediately." Beomgyu said. You bit your lower lip. "Thursday." You whisper, and Beomgyu nodded in adknowledgment.

"Relax, prince." You feel Beomgyu's finger gently inserting into your hole. You arched your back, gasping as he pushed his finger in, massaging the muscles within. It feels weird, but with his muttered praises, a second finger is quickly added.

"Mhmm...." Your jaw went slack when he hit a particular spot. Noticing this, Beomgyu let out a low chuckle, pressing on the spot again. Your back arched as his other hand wrapped around your cock. "It's here, isn't it, M/n?" He asked, as you babbled incoherent phrases back to him. Stretching you, Beomgyu added a third finger, and you let out a sob as response.

Once he deemed that you were prepped enough for him, Beomgyu removed his own garments. You hear a package opening, knowing that he is putting on a condom. You feel his tip poking around your rim and you whined, turning your face away. Beomgyu leaned down, one of his hand interlocked with your fingers as he pushed in. You moaned in discomfort, but he had a strong hold over your hips. When Beomgyu bottomed out, the both of you let out a moan.

"Tell me w-when you're ready, prince." He kissed your earlobe. You relaxed, giving him the green light as soon as you were ready. He begin to thrust lightly and you moaned in return.

"You feel good, prince? You're so tight and warm.... Squeezing me so tightly... I love you, I love you so much..." Beomgyu's words filled your ears as the pace begin to quicken. His lips had found their way back to your sensitive and hard nipples, suckling on them as he pushed in and out with force. You let out strangled cries of pleasure as a bubble start to form in your stomach. "Gonna... Not gonna las-last..."

"It's okay, I'm close... Together?" He found your lips and kissed you again. With his words, fireworks seem to explode in your eyes as you came. "Gyu..!" You cried. Beomgyu nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slower, until he finally stopped and pulled out.

Rolling the condom off him and throwing it into the bin not far away, Beomgyu collasped next to you, spooning you as he pressed his lips to your temple. You laid in his embrace, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"So..." Your voice was hoarse. "This was what you want from winning the bet?"

"No." Beomgyu replied. He removed a pillow from under your neck and placed it under his own, his voice sleepy.

"You're the one I want from the start."

IDUBILU ON REPEAT WHILE I WROTE THIS!!!! yeah my first x male reader smut. sorry if it isn't the best, i'm trying to figure out how to describe those scenes (i've been reading a lot of other fics to try gain some experience but welp) but maybe i'll do better next time?

this was supposed to be joshua or jeonghan or soobin but i came across beomgyu's pics so its him hehe.

i really have a thing for soft vanilla smut BUT of course i wouldn't write that all the time... just let me read more and i'll write better next time (:

if i see any minors liking or reblogging this post I WILL BLOCK YOU. A friendly warning.

And also, happy early DK and Vernon Day, Happy belated Taehyun Day... And I finally got this out of my drafts yay~

P.S. PLS MORE X MALE READER FICS BLESS

➳ pernament taglist: @wonwooz1 @kwanienies @yeodeulz @enhacracy @leyittara @lonewolfjinji @sousydive @joshuahongnumbers

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #kpop x male reader #txt x male reader #txt smut #choi beomgyu #kpop x male reader smut #☁️by k

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urlocalmultigroupfan · 14 days ago

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ice.cream

pairing: barista!hyunjin x fem!reader

summary: based off of ice.cream by hyunjin....

tags/warnings: mentions of food, americano reference, non-kiwijin jinnie, ice cream (obviously), not that proofread, kind of suggestive if you squint, really short, prob forgot something

a/n: wait so many people liked deep end omg??? apparently if you change your aesthetic it gets more likes lmao....anyways....

this is a hyunjin oneshot based off of ice.cream!! hope yall enjoy <3

The sound of soft jazz filled the cozy café, blending seamlessly with the low hum of conversation. You sat at a corner table, a half-finished iced coffee sweating against your palm. It was an escape, a moment stolen from the chaos of your week. The air-conditioning kept the room cool, but your attention was drawn to the man behind the counter, his movements fluid as he worked.

Hyunjin.

The name sounded like a secret on your lips, though it wasn’t the first time you’d been here, not the first time you’d noticed him. He was magnetic in the way only some people could be without trying. The kind of person who could make stirring a cup of iced Americano look like performance art. His dark hair was pushed back, a loose strand rebelliously framing his face, and he wore a confident smirk that seemed to say he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on people.

Today was no exception.

“Another iced coffee?” His voice startled you, even though you’d been staring long enough to know it was inevitable he’d catch you.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. Sure.”

He leaned forward across the counter, a playful gleam in his eyes. “You know, we have a new special today. Something sweeter. Ice cream. You might like it.”

You raised a brow, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Are you saying I don’t like my coffee?”

“No,” he said smoothly, the smirk deepening. “Just saying you might want to try something… refreshing. Different.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared into the back, returning moments later with a small dish of ice cream. It was delicately presented, the creamy dessert dusted with a hint of cocoa powder and topped with a single mint leaf. He slid it in front of you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest second—a spark that felt deliberate.

“On the house,” he murmured, his voice low enough to feel like a secret shared just between the two of you.

You hesitated before taking a bite, but the sweetness of the dessert melted on your tongue, its coolness contrasting with the heat creeping up your neck. When you looked up, he was still watching, leaning casually against the counter like he had all the time in the world.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, barely audible.

The smirk softened into something warmer. “I thought so.”

As the café slowly emptied, Hyunjin’s confidence lingered in the air. When he finally came around to clear the table next to yours, he paused, leaning just close enough for his cologne to mix with the lingering scent of coffee and sugar.

“You know,” he said, his voice teasing but somehow serious all at once, “if you like the ice cream, there’s more where that came from.”

His eyes lingered on yours, the challenge unmistakable.

And just like that, you knew—this was only the beginning.

hope yall enjoyed <3

todays writing playlist....

case 143 by stray kids, down bad by taylor swift, hype boy by newjeans, sour grapes by le sserafim, lose my breath by stray kids, twilight by stray kids, super shy by newjeans, how sweet by newjeans, love, money, and fame by seventeen, hall of fame by stray kids, flower by jisoo, cherish (my love) by illit, omg by newjeans, thinking out loud by ed sheeran, hold my hand by han, ice.cream by hyunjin, secret secret by stray kids, walkin on water by straykids, chk chk boom by stray kids, u by tablo and stray kids, happily ever after by txt, ain't shit by doja cat, industry baby by lil nas x, die for you by the weekend, not like us by kendrick lamar

*bold for explicit songs*

my playlist!

masterlist

taglist is open! comment if you want to join <3

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids x you #conner writes...! ✍🏼#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x y/n

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lovelyiida · 1 year ago

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➜ new years kiss headcanon’s!

CHARACTERS: BAKUGO, IIDA, KIRISHIMA, DENKI, SHINSOU

WARNINGS: SLIGHTLY smutty, intended fem/gn reader, mentions of panties, angst, the p word, your WAIST

➜ masterlist

➜ tag form

➜ words: 5K

reposts are welcomed!

➜ BAKUGO KATSUKI ✲ gn! reader

Decides to kiss you after the countdown, he can’t handle the pressure. (No one can tell him what to do, not even a stupid clock).

"I think if I saw Mina force-feed another grape in her mouth under that table, I was gonna vomit."

"I barfed a little in my mouth, actually."

A guttural laugh escaped from your lips as you held your stomach for support, and Katsuki couldn’t stop looking at you. The both of you were on clean-up duty after the New Year’s party the class held. However, you easily stopped caring about cleaning and decided to do what the both of you did best—shit talking.

Eyes snapping wide, you sat up in your seat and pointed towards the blonde with a smirk. “Oh! And did you see Denki and Jiro kiss? Ugh, I swear they needed to get a room.” You grimaced in jealousy. Katsuki let out a dry chuckle before placing his feet up on the common room table.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Katsuki sighed. Rolling your eyes, you followed his actions and placed your feet on the table as well.

"Well, I thought a guy I knew was gonna kiss me, but he wussed out." You mumbled, picking at the lint on the couch. Katsuki’s eyes looked out into the distance, going into deep thought as to who this "guy" could be.

Iida? Old news, pretty funny seeing you get rejected by him, though.

Shoji? He doesn’t really want to picture that interaction.

Kirishima? He’d be a dead man if he tried it.

Laying his head back against the plush fabric, he turned and looked at you. “Wha?” You asked, a small smile pressed on your lips as you tilted your head to the side.

“Who’s the guy?” He asked in curiosity, eyebrows lifted as he tried his hardest not to look as if he really wanted to know the answer. Even though he really does.

“You promise not to get upset?” You said softly. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched the overdramatic blonde roll his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“I swear... if it’s shitty-hair–“

“Nope.”

Katsuki gave you a look before sighing in defeat. “Alright, lay it on me.” Taking in a deep breath, you covered your eyes and cowered to the side. Slowly lifting your finger (for dramatic effect) towards him.

Katsuki’s eyes widened as he looked at your quivering finger (also for dramatic effect). “Me?” He said, disbelief etched through his tone as he grumbled out the word. Humming in response, the blonde was taken aback.

“I’m… the wuss?” He also said in disbelief. Uncovering your eyes, you slammed your hands on the couch. “Yes! You are!” You argued with a smile.

“And don’t even try and tell me that you don’t have feelings for me; 'shitty-hair' already told me everything.”

A light blush dusted against his cheeks as he cursed under his breath. “I’m gonna kill him,” he growled under his breath.

“So why didn’t you do it, hm?” You hummed. The blonde looked at you for a moment before sitting up in his seat; oh, he meant business.

“Because why should a stupid clock tell me what to do?” He argued. You looked up, pretending to be in deep thought. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe because it’s tradition?” You said it as a matter-of-factly.

“Fuck tradition.”

“Oh, you’re such a wuss,” you teased. Katsuki’s eyes snapped towards you, and he gave you a frown. “Shut it!” He yelled out loud.

“Make me.”

Katsuki didn’t need to be asked twice; taking his feet off the table, he launched himself towards you. Tightly gripping your waist, he smashed his lips against yours. The force of the kiss toppled you over.

Once a harsh kiss, it turned soft as his hands began to gently caress your sides.

Once sour, now sweet.

Pulling away from your lips gently, you blinked open your eyes and met Katsuki’s deep amber eyes. “Am I a wuss now?” He said with a mischievous smirk. You let out a chuckle before raising your hands to caress his face.

“You’re a shit kisser.”

“Bet you liked it though.”

“...I did.”

➜ TENYA IIDA ミ★ gn! reader

As the clock ticks with not much time on his hands, you were no where to be found.

Will his plans go correct?

"Has anyone seen Y/n?" Iida asked, a twinge of anxiety laced in his tone as his eyes quickly scanned the common room of class 1-A.

"Um, have you tried outside? Denki and a couple of others are out lighting sparklers," said Ojiro. Iida rushed past the blonde without another word as he stormed outside.

Looking around, he only saw Denki, Hakagure, and Kirishima trying to light 10 sparklers at once… using Denki’s mouth.

"Please! Take that out of your mouth!" Iida grumbled sternly. He watched the trio scurry off before hurrying back into the dorms. Standing in the middle of all the celebratory ruckus, Iida placed his hands on his hips.

"Shit."

Iida quietly cursed under his breath as he nervously pushed up his glasses. Iida had a strict plan to conquer, and it seemed as if everything was falling apart.

You see, Iida had a step-by-step plan to win you over today. Starting with being at your side the whole party, he wanted to talk to you and do the many activities he planned so that he could swoon you over.

Next, he was going to lay it out on you. Express everything he was feeling. Through a heartfelt letter, of course. You'd be weak in the knees by then, right?

Finally, he'd corner you in, possibly leading you behind everyone and kissing you right then and there.

The new year would be perfect.

But it’s 8 minutes until countdown, and you’re nowhere in sight. How will he go through with his plan if the main attraction is nowhere to be seen?

Storming into the elevators, he goes floor by floor.

First, second, third… nothing.

Stopping at the third-floor terrace, he let out an irritated groan. Checking his wrist for the time, he sighed.

“3 minutes until countdown…”

Resting his arms against the terrace, he placed his hand against his forehead. Shaking his head in defeat, the raven-haired man sat up and began to head back down to the common room.

Sniffle, sob, snort.

Iida’s brows lifted as he heard the faint noises. Someone is crying? Walking back over to the terrace, he leaned forward, trying his hardest to listen in on the faint sobs.

“Woah!”

Eyes going wide, it seemed as if Iida’s hand slipped from the railing. This is what happens when you’re a nosy class president. Flipping over the edge, Iida quickly held grasp of the second-floor railing before he could slip any further.

Activating his quirk, Iida safely landed on his feet at the second-floor terrace. Dusting himself off, he looked up and suddenly put on a frown.

“Y/n?”

He watched you, all teary-eyed and pout-lipped. Your eyes wide and bloodshot, shaking a little from the scene that just took place.

“I-Iida? What the hell just happened?” You whimpered. Walking past him, you placed your hand on the railing and shook it, making sure that it wasn’t loose, but to your suspicion, it wasn’t.

“I was up there on the third floor and I heard you… I didn’t know it was you– I’m trying to say that I was trying to find where the noise was coming from! Not trying to be nosy– which I’m not, by the way–“

“Iida,” you mumbled. “It’s all good, I’m fine.” You tried your best to smile, but you couldn’t. Iida looked at you with a frown, walking towards you; he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Well, you’re obviously not, Y/n,” he said sternly. Biting your lip, you began to sob out once more.

“It’s just… seeing everyone down there having a good time celebrating…” you trailed off with a sniffle. “You guys are so excited for the new year and I’m not.” You emphasized with a strained chuckle.

Hanging your head low, you confessed. “I don’t think I’ll stay here next semester.”

Within those small moments, you uttered those words, it felt as if Iida’s world was crashing down. His mouth was slightly agape at your words, dragging his hand from your shoulder to the side of your arm, he speaks.

“What? Why would you leave?” He asked.

“Because!” You yelled out, exasperated.

“I just don’t think I’m strong enough for this. My quirk is shitty. I’m lacking behind the rest of the class; everyone seems as if they’re improving by the second, and I’m just here being left behind—I’m not as special as everyone says–“

“What?” Iida interrupted, in utter disbelief.

Blinking up at him, your mouth was slightly agape as you looked at him. He actually looked angry.

“Not as special? Do you hear yourself when you speak?” He lets out a dry chuckle. Looking down at the floor, you spoke, “Listen… everything that I’m saying is true—“

“Bullshit.”

Eyes snapping wide, you cover your mouth as you watch Iida curse. “Everything that you’re saying isn’t the truth. And I’d know that!” He shouts passionately.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this! You’re so perfect, and you’re saying this? Y/n, do you know how much I look up to you?” He says, a deep frown pressed on his lips as he looked deep within your eyes.

Shaking your head, he lets out a scoff.

“Everyday I look at you and wonder why you’re so perfect. From the way you smile, to the way you treat others, and how you work harder than anyone else I’ve seen… you’re so perfect, and you don’t even know it.”

A singular tear slides down your cheek as you look at him in disbelief. “Iida… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Y/n, I’m in love with you.”

Damn, that was supposed to come out more poetic.

“A-and you can’t leave! Because if you leave, my world crashes down and I’ll have no one to look up to. No one to yearn for, and no one to truly love and appreciate.” Iida spoke softly, hands going stiff as he snaked his hands around your waist.

“I’m not saying that you should stay for me; stay for your future. Because it’s gonna be great, and you’d be an amazing hero.”

Iida’s eyes trace along your face, taking in every detail. Each tear, each twinkle of your eyes, the quiver of your lips. Slowly placing his hand against your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Iida–“

beep, beep, beep!

The both of you jolt at the sudden loud noise. Iida’s eyes trace over at his watch, watching as the clock strikes 12. Signaling in the new year.

Without even thinking, Iida slowly leans in and presses a soft kiss on your lips. Leaning into the kiss, you trace your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss.

Slightly pulling away, Iida places small pecks against your cheeks before looking into your eyes. The both of you let out a small chuckle before leaning back into each other’s arms.

After all the thoughts that have raced in your head today. You didn’t think you’d enter into the new year kissing Iida, that’s for sure.

EJIRO KIRISHIMA 🜸 fem! reader

He’s less confident, more fidgety than usual. And it’s gonna take a lot for him to finally confess to you.

Luckily, Bakugo can help!

"Hey guys!"

The room erupted with cheerful greetings and laughter, but Kirishima couldn't say a word as he watched you walk towards him.

And damn, you looked good.

"Whoa, what's with the new look?" said Denki. You played with your hair in response before speaking. "I don't wanna be cheesy, but new year, new me!" you exclaimed.

"Failed," Bakugo deadpanned.

Smacking your lips, you rolled your eyes before looking at the redhead. "Look Kiri, we're matching!" you exclaimed as you pointed at your head. It was true; both of you were matching.

Bright red hair caressed your face and perfectly matched with your features. Kirishima thought he was looking at an angel. One thing he knows: what's sexier than the color red?

Kirishima looked at you with no words, and usually, he can't stop talking. Sitting there, you waited for his response, but it seemed he was giving you nothing.

"I think he's saying you're drop-dead gorgeous—"

"W-what!" Kirishima cuts off Denki's words, waving his hands defensively. "I didn't say that! I mean, you do look really nice— I'm not saying you're not gorgeous. I-I'm just saying I didn't say that—"

"It's okay Kiri, I understand." You gave him a small smile before waving to the group goodbye and walking away to see everyone else.

"Dude!," Denki snorted.

"You absolutely tanked that; how the hell are you supposed to kiss them if you can't even give them a cohesive compliment?" Sero laughs, which then leads to him and Denki throwing themselves into a fit of laughter.

"Guys!" Kirishima bashfully groans out, trying to distract himself with sorting out the sparklers. A present blush on his cheeks grows as he revels in the situation.

"Hey dunce-face," Bakugo speaks out. Kirishima looks up at the blonde, his face unreadable. "If you don't kiss her, I will." Bakugo places down the remaining sparklers before bumping his shoulder and walking away.

Kirishima watches as Bakugo walks towards you with a smirk. As you turned at him, you smiled and gave him a hug.

Pang.

Kirishima's chest tightens at the sight of his best friend seemingly making moves on his crush. And he knew especially how Kirishima felt about you.

"Kiri… you alright?" Speaks Sero, taking his hand out towards Kirishima's shoulder; he suddenly shoves it out of his grasp.

Kirishima's blood boiled as he watches both of you. Look at you, just canoodling in front of him with no remorse!

Snapping a cluster of sparklers in his hand, he slams his fist down and races over to both of you.

"Oh, shit…" Denki and Sero both say worriedly.

Kirishima walks over towards both of you. Cups in hand, he watched how your body was too close to Bakugo's for his own comfort. Chuckling at whatever Bakugo was saying. Your eyes look over at Kirishima, and you let out a frown.

"Kiri, are you okay?" You say softly. Bakugo then looks up at the redhead, unfazed. "Bakugo, dude, we need to talk," Kirishima says sternly. Bakugo looks at the redhead, observing his clenched fists and red ears; he lets out a dry chuckle before handing you his cup.

"I'm all ears." Bakugo walks behind Kirishima as he leads him into an empty hallway. Turning towards the blond, he erupts.

"What the hell, dude!" He shouts. "What are you doing? You know how much I like Y/n; how could you!" Kirishima says exasperated.

"And what makes you think you're the only one that likes them, eh?" He says with a smirk. His words take Kirishima aback.

Mouth agape, he stutters, "w-what?"

"You heard me. What makes you think it's just you? What if I told you I liked her longer than you've liked her? What if I told you I had the same exact plans you had for tonight?"

Kirishima listens to the blonde in disbelief.

"Dude, you can't do this…" Kirishima whimpers.

"All I'm saying is…" Bakugo steps closer to the redhead. "I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt. But I've grown impatient, and if you're too much of a pussy to make a move; I'm gonna step in and do what I should've done a long time ago."

Bakugo's words dripped with venom as he spoke to his friend. Kirishima blinks before frowning at the blonde.

"You think I'm too pussy?" Kirishima says with a devilish smirk. The blonde looks at him straight-faced, "you've proven my theory so far." Bakugo says, his voice is unwavering as he insults Kirishima.

"Watch me!" Kirishima growls before shoving the blonde away. As he entered back into the common room, the lights were off, and the strobe lights were on.

Each student laughing and having a good time as they began to welcome in the new year. But the only thing on Kirishima's mind was you.

You watched as the redheads eyes were dead-set onto you. You watched with a frown as he stormed up to you. "Kiri, what's wrong—"

"Y/n, I like you!" Kirishima confessed.

Eyes going wide, you became speechless at his words. Kirishima huffs out a breath before speaking again, "I've liked you ever since the entrance exam. I remember seeing you for the first time and thinking to myself—dude, she's so hot!"

"Of course, I never thought I could be your boyfriend though; I mean, I can't even compare! You are drop-dead gorgeous! You're even more than that; you're… you're like Aphrodite or something!—"

Smacking your drink down on a nearby table, you reach forward and grab ahold of the back of Kirishima's neck. With a tight grasp, you smash your lips against his.

Kirishima couldn't even register what was happening at the moment. He felt as if the world was slowing down; the loud noises surrounding him faded away.

Feeling the plushness of your lips and the sweetness of your tongue. Kirishima hums into your lips, tightly holding a grasp of your waist before deepening the kiss.

But in the distance, what Kirishima didn't notice, was his three friends snickering in the distance at the two of you.

"So… are you gonna tell him you were lying the whole time?" Sero quipped. Bakugo leans back into the wall with a sigh, "nah… I'm gonna let his ego have it."

"For now, at least."

For the rest of the night, things went without a hitch. As both of you were able to share a proper New Year's kiss directly at dawn.

➜ DENKI KAMINARI ☻︎ fem! reader

Unlike everyone else, you and Denki made it a mission to have good luck for the upcoming new year.

Especially luck in the romantic department…

(INFO: eating 12 grapes before the clock strikes 12:01 for the new years is a tradition that is supposed to bring in immense luck for the new year. Also, if you wear red underwear this gives you luck romantically for the new year!)

“How long are you gonna wash those grapes?”

“As long as I need to! This has to be perfect if you want this to work, Denki,” you said with a sigh.

“Whatever you say, Y/n…”

Denki watched intently as you relentlessly soaked the grapes over and over again, making sure each and every grape was spotless. With a mischievous grin, he spoke.

“Y’know, I heard you’ll get even better luck if you shove the grapes–“

“Gross!” You shout before letting him finish. Denki laughed before casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

“So, did you also put on red underwear?~” You said. Denki hummed before reaching into his pants and showing you the elastic band. Looking down, you let out a chuckle as you continued washing the grapes meticulously.

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t—“

“No, don’t worry, I did! You just didn’t have to show me,” you continued to chuckle. Denki smiled before closing in on your personal space.

“And what about you? Gotta prove it too, don’t ya?” He said with a mischievous grin. You gave Denki a look, cheeks rising in heat at his flirtatious words.

Pushing him away softly, you cursed. “Forget it, and help me out, would ya?” You said irritated, trying to soak the big batch of grapes thoroughly.

Denki promptly rolled up his sleeves and began to assist you with the already clean grapes. “I swear, if I don’t get a boyfriend this year, I’m going to off myself,” you spoke.

“Same here, but the other way around?” Denki spoke, momentarily confusing both of you. This led to both of you sharing a hearty laugh. “I’m just saying that your boy is in desperate need of some c’est la vie.”

You looked over and looked at him flatly, “that’s… not even the right saying.” You chuckled before stopping in your tracks.

“I know, smartass.”

“Hey.”

Denki suddenly shut off the water with a quick motion. “I think they’re clean, let’s just set everything up already? The ball drops in 10 minutes!” He said excitedly.

“But—“

Denki shushed you with a quick motion by placing his finger against your mouth. Turning his back towards you, he started to take out plates and arrange them on the table.

You let out a defeated sigh before following his lead. Both of you began to set everything up, distributing plates of grapes to classmates before filling plates for yourselves.

You and Denki then huddled underneath the table with smiles shining bright from ear to ear. “Make way!” said Mina.

Before both of you knew it, several others began to huddle under the table as well. Bodies pressed up against each other, you and Denki were pressed against each other, chest to chest.

You never decided to look up at him, as the only thing separating both of you was now air and Ojiro’s tail…

As the countdown began, you settled the grapes in your lap, excitedly shouting down the final seconds to the new year.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Quickly, you and a multitude of others began to stuff the grapes in your mouth, hurriedly making sure the clock didn’t read 12:01. As you were eight grapes in, you looked over and saw Denki’s plate completely filled with grapes.

Looking at him, you frowned. “Why’re you not eating your grapes?” you muffled. Denki looked down with a smile, “you’re so cute with your mouth full like that.”

What.

You paused in your tracks, not even caring about beating the clock. As you chewed and swallowed, you noticed the light pink blush cascading over Denki’s freckled cheeks.

“What did you say?” you spoke.

“C’mere…” Denki mumbled softly as his hands neared your face. Gently taking you in, he pressed his lips against yours. Eyes rolling closed, your hands grew weak, and your plate of four grapes fell to the floor; all that cleaning for nothing, you guess…

Denki snaked his hands around your waist, traveling lower than expected as he deepened the kiss even more.

Thwack!

“Ah!” you shrieked, looking down you noticed Denki was holding out the elastic band of your red panties. Blushing at the sight, you tried your best to push him away, but you couldn’t.

“Wow, are you wearing a thong?” he whispered in your ear before placing a kiss on the nape of your neck.

“Denki!”

HITOSHI SHINSOU ༄ gn! reader

You and Shinsou could really care less for the new year, it was just another day for the both of you.

So you decide that the both of you should be united in misery and spend the night together, and with his cat.

"Here, kitty…”

Whispering playful banter past your younger companion towards the dark grey furball, you watch as their green eyes glow in curiosity at the feathered toy you held in your hand. Wavering it up and down, you chuckled as the cat began to frantically claw at the feathered material.

“Hey, leave her alone; she pisses when she gets too excited,” Shinsou deadpanned. Pulling your lips into a thin, pressed line, you quickly retract the toy and throw it on top of his bed. You watched as the furball suddenly leaped into Shinsou’s lap; he lazily began to pet the cat with his hands and continued to scroll on his phone.

The both of you currently were sitting on the floor of his dorm, lazily watching whatever was on TV until the "hoopla" was over. You knew class 1-A was having a huge party, but you and Shinsou decided to stay behind. Enveloping yourself in the comfortable silence, your eyes grow droopy as the only noise you can hear was the distant noises of the TV playing old cartoon reruns and the obnoxious purring of Shinsou’s cat.

Letting out a deep sigh, you couldn’t deny it...

You were bored as hell.

Quickly turning over, you reach out towards the remote and start to continuously flip through channels until something actually brings you interest. From family game shows to corny reality TV, nothing to you could cure the hole in your chest that was filled to the brim with absolute boredom. Flipping through more channels, you suddenly find the news channels.

You know you didn’t really want to see it, but the ball drop was a guilty pleasure.

Placing a smirk on your lips, you watched the happy citizens of Japan celebrate the welcoming of the new year. You were actually enjoying yourself until you heard a deep sigh on the other end of your ear. Looking in the corner of your eye, you watch Shinsou roll his eyes. Placing his phone down, he watches the TV, his deepened eye bags only making him look even more miserable than he wished to express.

“You just had to turn this on, huh?” Shinsou says aggravated.

“Oh geez, live a little,” you complained as you turned the volume up.

“I’ll start living once you turn the damn TV down,” Shinsou suddenly snatches the remote from your weakened fingertips; letting out a gasp, you try to reach for it back but you couldn’t. Shinsou turns the volume down before tossing it back into your grasp. Cursing him under your breath, you sneakily turn the TV back up by a couple of points before stashing the remote under the bed.

Shinsou scoffs at your actions and continues watching the TV, looking as if he’s being held here against his will. Chuckling to yourself, your eyes suddenly spark up once you realize the ball was beginning to drop. “Look, they’re starting the countdown!” You excitedly pointed towards the screen; Shinsou lets out a dry chuckle at your childlike excitement.

“Ten…nine,” you whispered excitedly towards Shinsou. “Will you back off if I join?” He questioned; you hummed in response, continuing to count down the final seconds of the new year. Rolling his eyes, he begins to count down with you. The both of you begin to sound out the new year together, even though one of them, in reality, would really care less.

“Five, four, three, two, one!” You quietly shouted out happily. “Happy new year, Shinsou!” You chuckled, suddenly reaching over and embracing him into a quick hug before letting go and reaching down to give his cat the same amount of love. The purple-haired man shakes his head at your antics, stealthily reaching behind you and grabbing the remote; he quickly shuts the TV off.

“Wha—”

Shinsou stands from his seat and places the remote on top of the TV, which he knew you’d be too lazy to reach. “Happy New Year,” Shinsou says smugly. He looks down at you, a frown present against your lips as you continue to baby his cat. “What’s your issue, Shinsou?” You accused. Shinsou sits comfortably on his bed, ignoring you completely before scrolling back on his phone.

Scoffing, Shinsou feels the bed sink as your added weight becomes present. You look at him as he continues to give you no attention, smacking your lips; you snatch his phone away from his hands. Rising from the bed, you also place his phone on top of the TV. Which you also knew he was too lazy to reach for. He suddenly lets out a defeated sigh, letting his head fall before combing his fingers through his purple locks.

“If you’re gonna be an ass…you need an actual reason to be one,” you spat. Shinsou lets out a sigh before speaking, “I thought you said you didn’t care for the new year.”

“I mean, I do and I don’t; it’s still a celebration of life. Who doesn’t like to celebrate?” You argued. “Well, you should’ve gone to 1-A’s party then; everyone is over there…” he trailed off.

“I didn’t want to go to that stupid party; it’s too loud. Plus, everyone already knows they don’t like each other…they’re just there for the free chips and dip,” you quipped. Shinsou chuckles at your words, “that’s true.”

“Plus, I kinda wanted to hang out with you anyways. You’re never around when we do parties, so I might as well see what you’re doing…” you mumbled. Shinsou frowned at your words, “so that’s why you’re here? To throw me a pity party?”

“No, not at all!” You defended.

“I came here because I wanted to hang out with you! But it would also be nice if you told me why you don’t hang out with any of us during the class celebrations” you asked curiously. Shinsou leans against the headboard of his and breathes in for a moment, letting out his breath he begins to speak. “Because I just think they’re dumb. When you have a father who basically has lived every single day of his life, it’s just another day with different decorations.”

“Especially New Years?”

“Especially”

“I mean, everyone huddles in a room making empty promises to themselves and stuff their greedy mouths with grapes! And don’t get me started on the kissing—“

“You sound do miserable, Shinsou” you added in. Shinsou was slightly taken aback by your words “No, I sound realistic.”

“Right, realistically miserable.”

“What this sounds like to me is… you’re mad you have no one to kiss this year” you equate with a smirk. Shinsou’s eyebrows lifted at the accusation, “huh?” You let out a chuckle before moving closer towards the miserable purpled haired guy. “It just makes sense, you’re just mad because you don’t have no one to kiss,” you giggled.

Moving even closer to him, Shinsou uncharacteristically reaches out for you. Taking you by the waist, he pushes you against him, holding you in place as you straddle his lap. "And why would ya' think that?"

“Well… You walk around here thinking you’re all high and mighty, but in reality, you’re just tense—backed up,” you mumbled.

As you and Shinsuo's eyelids began to fall, the gap between you started to close. “You could be right…” Shinsuo sinfully admits; this makes you let out a laugh.

Widening the distance between the both of you throws him off guard, his grip on your waist still held tight as he wasn’t going to let go of this opportunity to kiss you of all people.

“So, you’ll let me?” You say innocently, slightly tilting your head. A blush began to form against Shinsuo’s cheeks, but his bashfulness wasn’t going to stop him from being a flirty piece of shit.

“Do what? You gotta use your words,” he spoke softly, teasing you by caressing the sides of your waist. Warmth begins to rush towards your cheeks before continuing.

“Kiss you.”

Shinsuo brings you close again, “hell yeah.”

Closing the distance between the two of you, your lips softly press against each other feverishly.

Maybe, just maybe, Shinsuo might celebrate the next holiday…whenever that is.

HELLO THERE!! Happy new year to all of you! To celebrate I decided to do some headcanons since I haven’t don’t any in so long. Please comment down below and give me feedback of any kind.

— lovelyiida ❤︎︎

TAGLIST:

❥: @xo-evangeline, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish, @lovra974 , @bakugospartner, @gaby-11, @akqsa-xxi, @jolynegf, @goldenglow149, @aliruuiz, @zukowantshishonourback, @ilovedenk-i, @atsushiki, @smolbeanzzz, @lem-hhn, @stevenknightmarc, @ryumiii, @idontevenknowlolls, @lyn07, @kennshifts, @ackerman-suck-3-r, @elegantvoids, @thecurlyhairedgoddess, @sunyrose, @thisbicc, @thekookiecorner, @snxwycloud, @skylardarling, @cosmic-rainstorm, @venus-xxoo, @iluv-ace, @yoonievrse, @chixkadee, @starxsage

#lovelyiida #lovelyiida—katsuki #lovelyiida—ejiro #lovelyiida—tenya #lovelyiida—kaminari #lovelyiida—hitoshi #mha headcanons #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha insert #mha fanfiction #bakugo x reader #iida x reader #shinsou x reader #denki x reader #kirishima x you

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ximon-xi · 1 month ago

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Nothing can stop Simon from drawing the most random shit at 3 am

Anyways I'm obsessed with the void

Reality warped Alan by @/chickenkurage as always

#rwalanbecker #fanart #alan becker #ava au #animation vs animator #animator vs animation #ava #my art #i love him #sour grape mention #the more i draw him the more realistic it gets and im scared #yum yum yum #kinda used this as an excuse to draw grass #i also wanted to draw a tree being cut off to just show the void but i nevermind'd at the last second #more more more author #the author #reality warped alan becker #when bro #the void™

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hellokittyfmxo · 11 months ago

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"Ah, that sounds great. I'll order your Glinty Minty Sparkle, please. And you're welcome! Thank you for welcoming me here." Twinkleshine took out her wallet after she said that to Sour Grapes.

“Welcome to the Berry Bitty Café,” Sour Grapes responded dryly after she noticed that the other person had walked in. “I recommend my Curried Cucumber Canapé, and my Glinty Minty Sparkle. But what would you like to order? We’re going to continue to be open for another hour, so just me know if you want something here. Thank you.” Sour Grapes said to that person, knowing that her twin sister, Sweet Grapes, would want her to say thank you to the potential customer. ~@forgottenfriendshipstarters

#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ twinkleshine(My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)'s ❪paras❫ ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ twinkleshine(My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) & ❪sour grapes(Strawberry Shortcake™)❫ ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ the username of the other member's blog: fadingdreamsfm. ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ every character that I'm writing for in this RPG's ❪everything tag❫ ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ every character that I'm writing for in this RPG's ❪paras❫ ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ twinkleshine(My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)'s ❪everything tag❫ ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ sour grapes(Strawberry Shortcake™). ━━ ✧*˙♡#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ I.C. ━━ ✧*˙♡#t.w.: food ( mentioned )#t.w.: food #t.w.

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers

Toothpaste

Noodles

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran”

Peanut butter

Sunny D

Thyme

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.”

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer.

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.”

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.”

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.”

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach.

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished.

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls.

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips.

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them.

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even.

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?”

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides.

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face.

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief.

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?”

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.”

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?”

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs,

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

—

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly.

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled.

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours.

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before.

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife.

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold.

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home.

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from.

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids.

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer.

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come.

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess.

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items.

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables.

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking.

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair.

“Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?”

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.”

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away.

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family.

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy.

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit.

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior.

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa.

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies.

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to.

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying.

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left.

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like.

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is.

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.”

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

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Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: PROLOGUE ‘Sour Grapes.’

— Prologue: “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty who’re’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, blowjob male receiving. Fingering (female receiving) and sex tape mentioned. Breeding kink is a common theme here. Possessiveness.

— Notes:

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There was a new bar that took everyone’s attention and money away. Your friends have been nonstop talking about this new secret bar that is hidden away from everyone by a password. You wonder what the big deal was about it. It just sounded like a stupid bar to you. Apparently only ‘special’ guests could enter this bar. Your friend, Ningning has claimed that she knows what the password to the bar is, and that she will need to take a friend with her.

Which explains why you’re in Ningning’s car with the most absolute deadpanned expression when you see this empty isolating road ahead and the parking lot you’re now at.

You let out a sigh. “Ningning no offence but bars are meant to be welcoming. This looks like a horror movie in front of me.” The building that stood out to the both of you was looking bleak and dark from the darkness sorrowing it. You have a bad stomachache from all of this.

Your friend turns to you with a begging expression to make you come with her, because let’s be honest, Ningning wouldn’t want to go alone to this bar that no one has heard about. “Y/n please just trust me. The guy I was supposed to meet up with told me the password to this bar. I cant go along without you.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You remark back furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance. You eventually gave in after five seconds of whining from Ningning because you can’t stand this at all.

Scowling out of the car with your friend you follow her inside with the least enthusiasm for partying tonight as well. Unlike Ningning you actually don’t have this much free time.

“If I see something weird I’m getting out of here and calling the police, Ning.” You tell her, your voice coming out more sternly.

But she was your friend and you love her. You can’t just leave her to go to this weird scam-looking bar alone. Good knows what could’ve happened to her if you didn’t come with her.

Ningning gave you a small smile. “Yeah! Deal.”

The building looked like it was probably abandoned for many years. The entrance itself gave you spooky vibes and you hated it. The girl in front of you was the first one to approach the singular bookshelf on the wall guided against the wall. Your eyes stare blankly at the set up.

You saw your friend touching every book on the shelf and you let out a sigh and a laugh at the same time. This was ridiculous.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a secret book-lever?” You mumble behind Ningning who gave a very optimistic smile. “Yeah. The guy said the passcode will work if we find the book that is the right one.”

You sigh. “This is a lot of effort to go through just to drink and find yourself a fling isn’t it?” You had a point. There was definitely something going around here that you’re missing. Maybe some information that your friend wasn’t telling you?

Few seconds later Ningning found the reddish book on the bookshelf stand that had peeked out and she pulled it out, only to find it reattach and the whole bookshelf moving to the left. Revealing a secret door. Your eyes widen at Ningning; because for a moment or two you’ve been doubting this whole bookshelf thing. Ningning gave you a proud-eating smirk which made you automatically scowl and roll your eyes. You walk ahead and Ningning followed behind you. The dark corridor welcomed both of you and the sound of bar music came in louder and louder. The more you both walked you’d see two patrolling bar security guards at the door.

Your feet tried to past them but they shoulders block. One gruff man gave you an intimidating look. “Password.” He said to you.

Ningning pulls you back a little. She knows you’d probably start an argument with someone tonight, you’re kind of like a magnet for starting fights.

“Green tea.” She said to the guards. You stare in disbelief when the two guards let Ningning and you pass through once the secret password was said.

You see, you don’t understand humans. But you understand animals on many levels. Humans are just something too complex for you to figure out. Ningning here was very confusing. She wasn’t telling you anything about this place.

But you had to admit. The bar looks expensive. Luxurious even. There was something so lush about this bar you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Everyone seems like they are a movie star. Or perhaps singers even.

Pushing through the crowd. Ningning instantly ordered a drink at the bar. The handsome man with a pale thinly skin and alerting brown alluring eyes pulled you closer. The bar owner tending to the drinks had really beautiful thick hair. There was a mixture of proud and sweetness about this guy. He looks like he has this whole place together.

“Two martini’s please.” Ningning told. Jaehyun gave her a glance and a single nod with a charming smirk. He turned around making the two drinks for you and Ningning.

You whisper to your friend. “This whole place is weird vibes Ning. What’s so special about this place?” You don’t understand why she was so eager to come here.

Your friend gave you a sympathetic response but she didn’t seem to find this all so suspicious like you. Sometimes you analyse things too much for her own liking. “I just heard it amongst people at my workplace. So I wanted to try it out.” Ningning said with a shrug.

The two glasses were plopped down and your head turns to the martini then to the guy with a small glance you take the martini to sip.

Your friend’s answer was so vague to be honest. So much effort just to find out about this bar?

Reaching for your phone you wanted to check if anyone has been texting you. To your answer you find out the signal here was completely nonexistent and crap. You grumble and Ningning saw you struggling. She furrows her eyebrows when you curse.

“Does this bar have no wifi signal or what?” You said with your tone of voice becoming frustrated. You put your phone down when Jaehyun reached over. “Actually phones aren’t allowed in this bar, miss.” He explained, even though his handsome face was definitely a distraction from how annoying this rule was.

“What? No phone. Isn’t that a bit weird and suspicious.” You grumble not understanding what kind of a rule was this?

Ningning switched glances between Jaehyun and you. You were watching him with a double sided glare like you were a mirror reflecting how much you hated this rule so much.

Jaehyun smirks and pulls back. “At Sour Grape’s whatever happens stays here. Therefore no phones. Just enjoy your night.” He reassures.

It sounds like everyone had something to hide what was was it?

Deciding to let your eyes wonder around the whole bar to check out what could take your interest; you found your eyes gravitating to a specific table of seven guys seated like they own the whole place. Crouching between girls. You find yourself wondering what the whole deal was with them.

You turn to the bar owner, Jaehyun was cleaning a few glasses with a cloth. He wore this white top with a black vest over and a tie neatly over it. The hair was slick back too.

“What are those guys all doing? They look like they own the whole damn place.”

Jaehyun laughs at your words. “Because they do. They are my main clients who make this whole bar popular.”

You furrow your eyebrows turning back to watching the group of men seating down. They all had a specialised accessory with an animal of their choice. You don’t understand why. But all you could see was that it somehow matches their appearance.

He leans close now, he decided to give you a little introduction to who runs this whole place like it is their kingdom.

“Let me explain to you who they are.” He softly said and you nodded watching the group.

“That man is Mark Lee.” Jaehyun said it with some pride when the name comes out of his mouth. As if he was some sort of king. “He is what you call a womaniser I believe. No intentions of settling down. However he is loaded with money.”

A blonde guy sitting in the middle with his legs spread while a woman was on his lap in the middle, his hand sneaking around the waist to pull the beautiful woman closer. His eyes felt deadly and sharp. You feel like nearly as a prey would when watching this encounter. On his right hand was a shiny silver ring on his middle finger — with a tiger face shaped on it. Engraved.

Your eyes move to the right. Jaehyun saw you checking out the guy next to Mark now.

Next to the man was a sickly pale man. He looks as cold as ice to you; it shouldn’t be possible to look this pale without looking like the clouds in the sky itself. However his facial expressions were the least exciting. He looks like he did not have intentions of getting woman. A necklace was hanging around his neck in shape of a wolf.

“That is Lee Jeno.” He said to you with a smirk. “This guy is probably the least you likely will ever meet. Jeno is a tough one to grasp. He’s very loyal to Mark and his friends. He doesn’t even show slightest interest in women.”

You roll your eyes. “Why is that? Is he scared of women?”

Jaehyun grinned shrugging. “Pack law maybe?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at the comment you tried to not think much of this. Perhaps it was a metaphor but you can’t really put your finger on why he said something like that.

Your attitude towards the group was getting more and more conflicting. You wanted to know more about the rest of them.

“Who is the guy standing up over there?” You try to point your eyes at the man standing up next to the couch that all the other men were sitting together. Jaehyun looks over there.

“Zhong Chenle, he is a reliable guy with source of information from everywhere.” Jaehyun smirks at you and you raise your eyebrows scoffing.

“Why?” You question. Jaehyun responded with an obvious tone. “Because he’s rich. They all are.”

Chenle wore the most expensive clothing you’d have to be honest. He wore and extended his beauty with all his money he could afford it with. But what caught your eye at the end was this hanging shark tooth down his ears.

Sudden arm around Chenle was wrapped by a much larger and bigger man in height with pale skin and black hair. Darkly covered clothes and makeup on his face. A choker was around the guy’s neck with a spider in the middle showing off.

“And that guy with Chenle?” You grumble staring the taller boy down.

Jaehyun puts the drinking glass down, lifting up his head over the bar. “Park Jisung. Chenle’s best friend; he’s also deadly. I don’t think you should go near him unless you want him to completely destroy you.”

“You make it sound like he’s a killer.” You roll your eyes not taking whatever he said about Jisung or the others too seriously.

Jaehyun scoffs. “You never know.” He points out and then leans over pointing over to three other guys that were speaking together as they sat down at the table table with the others.

“Those three are always together.” He explained to you and your head turns to analyse the other three people.

Sun kissed man with brunette hair and beautiful brown eyes with black moles; wearing a bear shaped pendant down his neck while discussing something with his two friends. Lee Haechan.

In the middle a smaller frame but a sheepish man with beautiful hair and fox-like eyes made you look twice. He looks unreal if anything. With a lip piercing on the bottom lip, you swore you saw a fox tail on the lip piercing detail. Huang Renjun.

And then a man with a bracelet on his wrist, he looked to be the most troublesome and quiet person in the group. The snake bracelet on his arm intrigued you nonetheless. Na Jaemin.

They all wore animal charms which looked silly but at the same time you wonder if it meant something more?

“Why do they all wear those jewellery? I don’t understand why they have all those animals on them.”

Jaehyun wasn’t aware if you knew why this bar was such a high secrecy but he leans down and now got a real serious one on one with you. “Can you keep a secret?” He asked as his face told you that he was being serious.

The information he’s about to tell you will change your entire life forever.

“Yeah.” You slant back watching Jaehyun sit up with a grin at your response.

“Everyone in this bar knows this but you.” Jaehyun smartly points out. “What do they know?” You became wary of what this was all about. Suddenly your stomachache was back again as if it was a warning from whatever you were about to find out.

Jaehyun trails with a devilish look. “The reason Sour Grape’s is such a secret place to enter is because everyone in this place has evolved from different species of animals.”

“For example, most people like you who evolve from monkeys exist in this world. But there are people who evolved from others.”

He whispers back pulling away to show you his arm bracelet with horses on it. You raise your eyes from Jaehyun’s wrist and back to his face in disbelief. This wasn’t making enough sense to you.

“So you’re telling me you and the other guys came from animals that weren’t monkeys? What kind of logic is that.” You grumble feeling that maybe you’re drunk and he was fooling around with you.

Jaehyun gave you a light shrug with his shoulders. “You said you can keep a secret. You can’t tell this to anyone.”

“Hyung pass me a bottle. You know what I want the usual.” A dark deep and striking tone alerts me from behind as if I’ve never heard any footsteps coming from behind me. The tall domineering man next to my shoulder peeking down at the bar. He saw my intense gaze fixated on him. Mark turns around watching my look with a bit of haste. “And you are miss? Do I have something on my face?”

You could practically pass out from the way he is watching you like you are just some thing, a bug that could be squished by the size of his palm. “No…I…”

The bottle being placed down made you flinched. Somehow all the things Jaehyun said to you now makes sense. Mark had a look of a tiger behind his eyes. He wasn’t no cub. He was a fully grown animal in a human body. It made you scared to even look the other way.

Watching him leave with the bottle in hand. Jaehyun knew by your expression that you finally found some truth to his story.

You look down at your hands. “How do i get to speak to him?”

You hate to admit it but you want to meet them all. You want to analyse them; to get to know them. Somehow deep inside you’re willing to even try and befriend them.

Jaehyun gave you a laugh. “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.” You grumble at the bar owner. “Okay what’s that?”

An obvious tone was spoken again. “To sleep with you, nothing else.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you. Reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out!

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ichorai · 1 year ago

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number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show.

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent.

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself.

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over.

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny.

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later.

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent.

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister.

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that.

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent.

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.”

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider.

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste.

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches.

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people?

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time.

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers.

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye.

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks.

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip.

A second of silence.

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout.

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls.

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize.

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra.

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between.

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood.

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything.

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…”

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers.

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her.

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.”

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head.

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens.

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to.

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly.

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage.

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you.

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers.

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime.

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant.

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys.

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen angst #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x oc #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic

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