#that’s rivers babe my heart

[theosconfessions]

teddie. my heart. argh hes the sweetest wee baby. teddie is the son of dustins son, river , and blake. rivs primary focus is always his kid and his kid only. they were very much one and done despite blake trying to push for another baby pretty hard. i think rivers the only stephens that has his head on straight. and hes trying his best to raise ted that way too. HOWEVER. hes half blake so.

if youd like to read the stephens from the beginning you can over here

if youd like to read the stephens continued you can over here :)

[violetskylights0]

Squeaky Clean

Vi x Reader

Summary: You and Vi break into a house with an obnoxiously big shower...it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Warnings: Smut (18+) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sneaking into houses in Piltover was old news for you and Vi. You’d done this a hundred times, rarely getting caught. But tonight felt different. Vi had set her sights on a stunning condo by the river, and though you were hesitant, one look at her stubborn grin was all it took.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” she said, flashing you that cocky smirk that had you melting in an instant. She held your hand, pulling you forward, and you couldn’t help but follow.

She motioned toward a window a few feet up, and you gave her a knowing smile, stepping into her hands to boost yourself up. Just like old times. Vi lifted you with ease, her hands lingering a bit too long on your ass, and you shot her a grin.

"Seriously, Vi? Five seconds in, and you’re already getting handsy?” you teased as you shimmied in, reaching a hand back to her.

“It’s not my fault your ass looks so damn good in those pants,” she quipped, grabbing hold of your arm as you pulled her in. But when she flew through and practically landed on top of you, you both hit the ground with a soft thud.

Your eyes widened at the noise, but Vi just chuckled, brushing a reassuring hand against your cheek. “Relax. Owner’s in Ixtal for some business trip. I’ve been scoping the place for weeks. We’re clear.” She helped you up, pulling you close, her touch lingering as if to reassure herself you were still here.

“You know, it’s a little scary how good you are at this,” you murmured, your gaze drifting to her lips, feeling that familiar warmth in her presence.

She leaned in, her voice soft, almost a whisper. “I seem to remember you telling me I’m good at a couple of other things too,” she said, kissing along your neck in gentle, lingering brushes that made your heart race.

You sighed, a little dazed, but still smirked. “Vi,” you breathed, feigning a whine. “Focus, babe. You want dinner next week, or are you planning to flirt me to death here?”

She laughed, giving your ass a light tap as she passed. “Dinner? I’m thinking I’d rather have you for dessert. But someone insists I need more nutrients or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, feeling a glimmer of what you thought you’d lost forever. After all, you’d been through, it was a relief to see pieces of the Vi you fell for hadn’t gone anywhere.

You both agreed to split up. Vi took the main floor while you explored upstairs, your rule simple: only take things no one would miss. But as you crept into the bathroom, your jaw dropped.

Moonlight spilled across sleek stone floors and lush plants, creating a humid, glimmering oasis. The shower itself was enormous, complete with a stone bench carved into the side. You couldn’t help but imagine hot water streaming endlessly—an impossible luxury at home.

“Vi!” you called, barely containing your excitement. “You have to see this.”

A moment later, she appeared, pink hair catching in the soft light, and let out a low whistle as she took it all in. “Holy shit. Didn’t even know they made bathrooms this big.”

“Can you believe this is normal for these people?” you muttered, a hint of irritation slipping into your tone.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening. “Yeah, these pricks’ biggest issue is the time it takes to walk across their showers. They don’t know the first thing about struggling just to make it by.”

“Hey…hey. I’m sorry I didnt mean to sound annoyed” You stepped in front of her, cupping her cheek to pull her gaze back to you, grounding her in your touch. “Forget them and their fancy showers,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently against her cheek.

“We may not have a shower—or even an apartment as big as this,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile, “but I have you. And a year ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. So every day I get to see your face, hold your hand, and kiss your cheek,” you leaned in to place a feather-light kiss on her cheek, “is a day in paradise.”

Vi’s fierce expression softened, and she closed her eyes, turning her head to press a kiss to your palm. “And every time I hear your voice, I feel the same,” she replied, pulling you in, her arms wrapping around your waist as if she’d never let go.

You smiled at each other as she leaned in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that made the world fall away. It was a feeling you’d never tire of, the spark even more intense after all the years and everything you’d been through.

You barely noticed her guiding you back until you felt the cool tile at your back, and you let out a small laugh.

“Hey,” you breathed, catching her eye. “Feels like we’d be missing out if we didn’t take advantage of this shower.”

She raised an eyebrow as you stepped back, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to lift it slowly. Just the sight of your skin made her draw in a sharp breath, her eyes full of something tender and fierce all at once.

"I'm surprised,” Vi murmured, not even trying to hide the way her gaze lingered on your bare chest. “Usually you’re the cautious one when we’re breaking into places.”

You smirked, unbuttoning your pants as you stepped onto the cold marble of the shower. “Just because you’re the one with the prison record doesn’t mean I can’t have a little devious streak too.”

Vi blinked, snapping back to the moment as she started pulling off her clothes, her smirk widening. “If you didn’t look so damn good right now, I’d have a clever comeback ready.”

You turned on the water, feeling the icy beads at first but quickly relaxing as the warmth took over. Watching Vi strip off her sports bra, you gave her a slow, inviting smile, motioning her closer with a single finger.

"Why don’t you come take a closer look?”

She let out a low groan as her hands found your hips, pulling you flush against her. “You’re gonna be the death of me, huh, cupcake?” she whispered, lips brushing along your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that melted you in her arms.

You let out a soft moan feeling the warm outline of Vi’s lips on your throat as one hand slowly ran up your stomach before grasping your left breast and lightly tracing your nipple with your thumb. 

Your hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her pink strands as you tighten your grip, tugging just enough to make her gasp. Vi let out a low, throaty groan, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into you, the warmth between you growing with each little pull.

Someone is not playing fair,” Vi said biting down on your nipple playfully. “Two can play that game.” She said slowly lowering herself. 

The soft brush of her chest against your stomach as she lowered herself made your knees nearly buckle, but then you caught sight of her face and forgot to breathe.

Vi looked up at you, blinking slowly, her blue eyes vibrant in the moonlight. Droplets traced down her skin, following each scar, each line of her face, making her look like something out of a dream.

“Holy s-shit, Vi,” you breathed, voice trembling as she backed you against the shower wall. The cool stone made you gasp, but Vi only grinned, lifting your leg over her shoulder, her touch sending a rush of warmth through you.

Vi started slowly kissing up your leg making sure never to lose eye contact with you as she did one long lick up your core making you grip her hair again. 

“So sensitive today huh sweetheart,” Vi smirked against you cupping your heat. 

“Vi if you don't start eating me out soon I swear.” You said looking down at her. 

“Now c’mon is that any way to ask? You know good girls are supposed to beg.” Vi said her tone a bit more stern as she pressed her palm against your clit  making you jump. 

“Fuck really? I mean it was my idea to have shower sex in the first pla- ah!” you whimpered as she started grinding her palm against your clit and raising her eyebrow at you. 

“Okay okay, you win! Please fuck me. Make sure all of Piltover can hear how good you fuck me.” You borderline yelled as Vi moved her hand diving in head first. 

The sounds that echoed through the bathroom would make a brothel blush. The way Vi twirled her tongue over and over your clit just how she knew you liked it. Even pausing to slowly roll the numb between her lips and suck drove you crazy. You would have fallen over if her muscular strong arms were not pinning you to the wall. 

“You can do it, sweet girl. I know you're close. Don’t you want to cum on my face and mark what's yours?” Vi moaned slipping her tongue in your cunt. 

You felt the air leave your lungs as she used her thump to keep rubbing your swollen clit while she fucked you with her tongue. You didn't mean for a scream to come out but it all felt too good…and then it stopped. 

Vi leaned back standing up. 

“What the fuck! Why!” You begged as she led you to the deeper part of the shower with a seat and tuned on the second shower head. 

“Because of my love. I’m going to fuck you in this seat so good that you will never be able to take a shower without thinking of me.” Vi winked laying you down on the bench as you rolled your eyes at her cockiness. 

Vi’s gaze flicked around the shower until she spotted a bottle of soap on a ledge nearby. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned back to you, a smirk curving her lips while you leaned back on your elbows, watching her.

“Why don’t you lather up and give me a little show, hmm?” she murmured, setting the bottle beside you before taking a seat on the bench across, her gaze never leaving you.

You looked at Vi slowly spread her legs waiting for you as you tried not to gawk at the sight. The light drops running down the muscles of her arms all the way to her core had you soaked all over again. 

You nodded not being able to form words as you sat up a bit pouring the cold substance in your hands and slowly rubbing it on your body. 

You made sure to slowly rub all the way from your thighs to your breast as Vi’s arm moved to her own heat. 

You smiled rubbing the soap over and over your tits creating bubbles as Vi began circling her clit. 

“Who knew my good girl was such a fucking slut on display.” Vi moaned not daring to look away from you for a second as she sped up the circles.

You could tell she was getting close from the way her face flushed to her breathing pattern and right as you began to lower your hand to your own clit you stopped making Vi look confused. 

“Two can play that game.” You mimicked her voice and smirked. 

You expected Vi to flash you her playful smile and groan but her eyes got dark focusing in on you. 

“‘I am going to ruin you, sweet girl.” Vi growled positioning herself over you and spreading your legs. 

You barley had time to react to the sight of Vi lining up her heat with yours as you tried to grab onto anything around you at the sensation of her clit bumping yours.

Vi lifted you left leg holding it up straight as she started moving. Your mouth fell open from the sensation. As she began rocking her hips you could barely control the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

“Take it like a good slut for me yeah?” Vi grunted speeding up her pace. 

The sound of your cunts rubbing together bounced off the walls filling the bathroom with the sounds of you together. Your breath started quickening as you looked up at Vi who was mesmerized by the way your tits were bouncing.

“Fuck! Yes Please don't stop baby.” You shrieked as she began grinding down on you. 

‘Can I cum baby? please please oh GOD.” You moaned gripping her thigh. 

“Mhmm come with me pretty girl watch me make a mess of this sloppy fucking pussy.” Vi whined as you saw she was close to. She started thrusting her hips quickly again as your orgasm quickly barreled to you as a string of curses and Vi’s name slipped from your lips. 

As your legs began to shake you could see Vi about to reach her peak as well encouraging her.

“Come on baby come for me.” You cooed as the overstimulation kicked in making your eyes roll back which tipped Vi over the edge seeing you fucked out like that. 

Her hips thrust widely before she let out a high-pitched moan gasping as you felt her pussy throb against yours. 

For a moment, you both just sat there, catching your breath as the steam swirled around you. Vi gently lowered your leg and flopped beside you on the bench, her fingers trailing softly up and down your hip, massaging the muscles with a slow, soothing touch.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, her brows furrowed in genuine concern. “I mean, I only called you a slut because…well, you said you liked it. But I can stop—” she began to ramble, and you couldn’t help but cut her off with a soft kiss.

She was always so cute when she got like this—one moment completely losing herself with you, the next moment wrapped in that familiar softness, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

“I loved it,” you assured her, your fingers brushing tenderly across her cheek. “And I love you,” you added, smiling into her eyes.

Her expression softened, that tough edge in her gaze melting away as she leaned in for another kiss, slow and full of everything she’d never quite put into words. “I love you too,” she whispered, a rare hint of vulnerability showing through her usual boldness.

She chuckled, looking around the lavish shower. “Guess these Piltover jerks are good for something,” she teased, making you laugh as she squeezed your hand.

“Come on, Pinky. Shower time for real,” you said, standing.

“Oh, so I get the soap treatment this time?” Vi grinned, raising an eyebrow as you pointed playfully at her, then sauntered toward the other side of the shower.

Vi shook her head, biting her lip as she watched your hips sway. “Oh, keep that up, and we’ll be here all night,” she called, her mischievous grin promising that “getting clean” was the last thing on her mind.

Author note: Oh, how I have MISSED my Vi. The brainrot has taken over again and it feels so good. Feel free to message ideas or scenarios if you have them!

[itsswritten]

Earth's Song

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 795 (she's a drabble)

Warnings: Difficult birth is briefly mentioned no major details though.

Summary: Fairies are made for the wind & sun <3

Wings Masterlist

You could see it, just beyond the archway. Only a step away, the golden streams of rays filtering over the flowers. The breeze, a scent of fresh grass, pollen and peonies filling your senses– so close you could almost taste it. The melody of the earth was calling to you, its creatures and plants singing in a verse only you could hear upon your arrival. Your lips tugged into a gentle smile across your tired expression. 

Oh you had missed this.

A soft gurgle pulled you from your musings, your gaze settling down on the little bundles that were swaddled to your front. Your babes, twin sons. Only weeks old. Could they hear it too? The earth's music? it’s song, it’s heartbeat– you were sure they could. Certain they felt it in their bones just like you.

“Isn’t it wonderful..”, you whispered to them, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on the tops of their heads. Wefts of hair as dark as their fathers atop, and their scent so inexplicably yours and his.

“My love…” Azriel spoke, an ache in his tone that seemed consistent with any action you did nowadays. You had tried to step forward, feet moving past the tiles of the River House subconsciously into the outside that was calling you–calling your sons too. Any action you seemed to make these past few weeks only made your mates heart lurch.

“Azriel…” your tone was gentle but firm, your free hand subconsciously rubbing the backs of your babes who were nuzzled against your chest. Their eyes slowly opened and closed under the gentle glow of the sun that reached within the doorway of the house. “I want to– need to feel the earth,” you replied. 

It had been several weeks since you had been outside, several weeks since you brought your baby boys into this world. The birth had been difficult. A thought you didn’t want to dwell on, but something you knew was still very prevalent as you felt your mate's supportive hand press against the small of your back. His free hand still looped with your arm for stability.

It had taken a great deal of convincing for him to bring you here, to let your boys experience the world beyond the safety of the house walls. Azriel, ever the protective Shadowsinger, had been beside himself when he’d almost lost you. The birth of your twins—Illyrian-winged miracles born of a meadow faerie—had been far from easy. The ordeal had left you in a deep, unnatural slumber, robbing you of those precious first days with your sons. It was a cruel twist of fate, one that left you fragile in body and spirit. Even the sacred traditions of your kind had been set aside in the wake of it all.

And well, Azriel’s protectiveness had grown to a level you didn’t know was possible. You understood though. Didn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, if you’d almost lost him, you weren’t sure what kind of person you’d become in the aftermath. But you were still here. Healing, growing stronger with every passing day.

So you convinced him, explained to him how fairies were made for the wind and sun, your boys, despite only being half of you– needed this too.

You watched as your mate hesitated, bringing you this far had gone against every instinct he had, but as he gazed into your reassuring smile he nodded. Gently moving with you, each step at a time. Your bare feet feeling the soft grass under your pads. The sensation sent a shiver through your body and as you began to ground yourself tears filled your eyes.

The evening sun basked it’s golden hour upon your skin, it’s rays warming your flesh in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks. You had missed this. 

Your babes stirred softly, their tiny forms swaddled snugly against your chest. Their warmth grounded you further. You inhaled deeply, the scent of the flowers and the earth beneath your feet blending with the faint sweetness of your sons.

Azriel’s wings rustled softly behind you as he stepped closer, his shadowed presence a constant comfort as you let yourself lean back against him. You glanced up at him, your tear-filled eyes meeting his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. 

Wordlessly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, his gaze moving to his sons pressed against you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I love you– I love you all so much,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

Your smile was the only reply he needed. Your expression looking fuller than it had done in weeks. And then you hummed, eyes closed as you harmonised along to the earth’s song.

a/n: a little wings drabble, our first snippet at seeing the baby boys...which yes I've finally landed on names. Introducing...Rune & Rain <3

wings universe: @minaethrym @megscabinetofcurios @scorpioriesling @dottedhalfnotes

Permanent taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria @writingcroissant @searchingforbucky

[cntloup]

Why not doing reader pregnant but her boyfriend leave her with her child and she has some trust issues or whatever you want and she's poor too :) then someone (you'll decide who you want) see her in a small house or maybe a garage. I don't know if it's a good idea but hope you'll like it :]

i loved this idea thank you babe<333 i might write a series for this lmk what you think :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

You pass the various shops and cafes, filled with life and smiles and laughter, a sheer contrast to the void forming in your heart as you sob in agony while hugging yourself and rubbing your arms to keep somewhat warm, your flimsy dress doing nothing to keep away the freezing cold.  

Your vision is blurry from the endless streams of tears flowing down your eyes and you don’t seem to notice the large figure stepping out of the cafe and appearing right in front of you. 

You bump into the mass of muscles and jolt back in shock. You quickly wipe your tears and lift your head to see him already looking at you in high alertness from the sudden impact. You notice his serious look and the numerous scars littering his face. 

You take a step back, “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you.” you apologize while looking down and his gaze softens, noticing the timidness in your demeaner. 

“ ‘s fine.” he responds, his voice deep and gruff, but maintaining a soft tone in order not to scare you any further. 

He observes the shaking in your much smaller form and how you’re trying so hard to keep warm, and that you have been crying. 

“Do you need any help?” he asks. You shake your head no and of course he knows you’re lying. You're scared, even to ask for a small favor. He knows how that feels. 

He takes off his leather jacket and goes to drape it over your trembling body, but you flinch away, “It’s ok. Here, take it.” he says, holding the jacket in front of you. 

You open your mouth to decline but the brisk icy wind prevents you from it. You take the jacket hesitantly and put if over your shoulders, “Thank you so much, sir.” “Simon.” “Thank you, Simon.” you try your hardest to give a small smile. 

But soon the tears come flowing down as rushing rivers, “Hey, hey. It's ok.” he tries to calm you down and goes to touch your arm only for you to pull away. He takes a step back and slightly raises his hands to show you he’s harmless. 

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” he asks and you sigh followed with a bitter chuckle, “Not really.” you silently scold yourself. You barely know the guy and you say you have nowhere to stay. 

He offers to take you inside the cafe and the rumbling in your stomach urges you to say yes. So you sit and talk for a while and he tells you he’s in the military which makes you maybe only slightly trust him and you warm up to him a bit more.

“I’m three months pregnant and my asshole of a boyfriend threw me out when he found out.” you tell him while biting into your sandwich like a starved animal. 

“What a bloody cunt...” he grumbles which makes you chuckle and agree. 

“I’m gonna check you into a hotel for now. Is that ok?” he offers kindly. He was gonna offer you his own place to keep an eye on you, but bit back his tongue since he knows how it would come off. 

Something tells you he’s trouble, but you can’t decline. Where would you stay? In the streets? 

“Yeah. Ok.” you accept, not knowing this is the start of something new. 

[lady-of-tearshed]

Overprotective bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

[inupibaldspot]

I don’t want to hide it!

Pairing : actor!Gojo x actor!Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Both you and Gojo are in the entertainment industry and one unspoken rule and maybe somewhere in the contract is that you can never reveal you are in a relationship | artcredit

You breathe out as you look out at the dark starry night, a haze comes into vision indicating how cold it actually was.

There was a buzz in your pocket making you reach into your jacket pocket and smile when the name popped up.

Satoru <3

I’m here,baby. 2:47am

Just then a dark car with also dark tinted glasses drives through and parks near you were standing. You quicken your footsteps as you wave at him. “Don’t come outside.”

“Sorry.” Of course he doesn’t listen. “What did you say?” Gojo steps out of his car as he quicken his steps to you; he was dressed in black from head to toe, with a hat trying to hide his hair and a mask to hide his face. Just like you.

You both were always public’s eyes afterall. Gojo was a singer turned actor who was probably in him prime. You were also an actress,about three years into debut yet you had a huge impactful movies under your name.

Gojo’s hands go over to the door handle of the car and opens it for you, his other hand wraps it to your back as he holds you in. His masked lips places a kiss on your forehead. “You look so divine, babe.”

You laugh. “Even though I’m covered like this.” You bring your hands up where you then place your chin on your hand.

“Of course.” Gojo nuzzles closer. “I can recognize that fat ass anywhere.”

“Gojo!” You shriek out, as you puff at Gojo’s words. The man laughs as he pull away when you are sat in place and closes the car door. He then walks over and sat on the drivers seat.

As soon as his butt hits the car seat, his first reaction is to pull down his mask as he leans into you and places a kiss on your lips, your mask pulled down by his left hand. Your heart takes a leap and you press your lips to his. Instantly, Gojo cradles your face, refusing to separate from you.

Gojo doesn't stop, sensuously kissing every available surface of your lips until he's tired of waiting to kiss your lips once more. You give in and let yourself fall until the point of no return - even if Gojo was the devil incarnate, you would gladly hand over your soul for an eternity of his love.

Building up every once of strength in you, you hold onto his jacket and pull away from the kiss. You blush when Gojo looks at you, face smeared with lipstick. “We shouldn’t stay here for long. We could get caught!”

Gojo growls as his feet place on the clutch and break before driving with the gears in place. “I don’t get why we have to hide it. Our contract has nothing restricting us.”

You sigh. “You know we don’t know how the public will react…” 

Gojo said eyes at you and sees that your eyes were lowered and you were nervously playing with your own fingers. Shit…he made you feel bad.

He forces a smile and places one of his hands on your thigh making you look up at him. “So princess, are you gonna tell me what you’ve been doing today.” He asks.

You smile, the tense air finally dissipates. “I had to shoot an ad at 6am and then a 13 hour shoot in the woods for my new movie.”

“Shit babe.” He says concerned, both his hands on the steering wheel as he makes a turn and parks the car. They were in a secluded area by the river side. “You sure you don’t need to sleep?”

You shake your head as you place one of your hands on Gojo’s face, lips curled into a small. “I want to spend my time with you. Besides, I was taking cat naps in between sets.”

“So what were you doing,my prince?“ Gojo smiles at your words.

“I was watching the avatar the whole day.”

You laugh “yeah?”

“Oh—that’s right!” You clap your hands together as you look at him. “Tomorrow we are scheduled to emcee at that music show.”

“I think I did hear something like that from Ijichi.” Gojo taps his temple when his finger as he remembers his manager in tears begging him to listen. “But I didn’t know we were partners.”

“Satoru…you have to be careful on stage.” You peer in close to him face, eyes begging him to listen. “Don’t be obvious.”

Gojo leans in quick as he pecks your lips making you blush in surprise. “Fine. What ever you say, princess.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The next day,you nervously bite the inside of your cheeks as music blasts in the background; all eyes were focused on the idol group performing right now. Beside you,stands tall Gojo Satoru who has a glow near him as he mentally gushing on how adorable you looked, all dolled up and ready for the camera—so pretty.

Ijichi nervously bits his thumbs,all nervously. The company including him knew about Gojo’s relationship with you, at first the company tried to threaten him to break up with you but then Gojo threatened them back with termination of contract. The company can’t afford to lose their main money maker! So they decide to let the relationship stand but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beg and pay every paparazzi to not release any pictures.

With every look and smile Gojo gave to you Ijichi’s job was on the line.

Suddenly a different type of music was playing making all idols make way toward you and Gojo; an interview session were to take place.

“Welcome back—!” You smile at the camera then at the ground where the members smiled and bowed back. So pretty.

“Oh my!” You smile cheerfully at the idols who await your expression. So pretty.

“That was such a show! The performance struck right through our hearts!” You smile and look at him, his blue eyes into your. Gojo almost can’t breathe. So pretty.

“Right Gojo-san?” So pretty.

Your beautiful face contours slightly as he takes on a worried expression. “Right Gojo-san!” Oh—right… He was Gojo.

You gulp hard as you quickly look to the idols, “it seems as if Gojo-san is still in awe from your performance.” making the audience laugh. From then on Gojo tried to act normal—he really did! But every time you speak, he is giddy with emotions.

Somewhere in between nervous laughs and in this case, chewing on his nails; a man rushes to him. Breathing heavy as he places a hand on Ijichi’s shoulder. “We’re fucked…”

Ijichi gulps.

The man who came up to him, one of Gojo’s managers lift up his phone where what is written on the screen.

[⭐️EXCLUSIVE] Actor Gojo Satoru and y/n on a date!

There were pictures of you, who was slightly unrecognizable from all the cover up of clothes but there was a mole on your body with could be traced back to you.

There was another picture where Gojo comes out of the car, this one surely couldn’t pass. There was a peak of his white hair slipping through hat, and his blue eyes ever so recognizable. The freaking paparazzi even routed how Gojo’s car went from his residence to yours at such odd hours!

And finally the nail in the coffin where he takes you home hands by your waist, with you nuzzled into his jacket waddling forward with a peak of lipstick smeared on his face. A lipstick shade you’ve been always seen wearing during casual days!!

Ijichi grabs his hair before his phones buzzes…an endless buzz which will probably cost him his job.

Now the audience seemed to buzz, showing each other this exclusive new of the people who are literally right infront of them. How entertaining! The mass now seemed to take various pictures in real life by the audience and others screenshoting the music show you guys were emceeing, all obviously trying your best.

Then another posts starts posting on all the gossip post with Twitter having a field day with it in particular.

[⭐️Hot!] Gojo Satoru can’t really seem to get enough of y/n! Hahahaha

The post contains pictures of Gojo staring lovingly at you when you were emceeing, when you laugh he laughs, when you smile he blushes.

The comments under the post was entertaining though.

User128

What ever he is being accused of, he is guilty.

Bbystru

Ahhh—he is definitely a shojo male lead

User827

The company doesn’t even need to say anything! The proof is infront of our eyes.

Luvie28

Wow! Gojo is so funny! y/n is working so hark to make up for it.

The company of Gojo fell into despair because at how the stocks where falling for the company, they were mildly surprised and extremely pleased when the stocks went flying up and up— because after the pictures went viral; it seemed even overseas, there were a whole new audience now interested in their love sick actor!

Mean while Gojo was simply happy he didn’t have to hide their relationship, no more stuffy dates all covered up, no more keeping 100m distance from you in public places and no more hiding your lipstick stain over his lips and peppered all over his neck, to his chest and maybe even lower.

Who knows maybe he even show up on the red carpet like that one day.

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? Check out other here

[tinylilacbun]

story time on how the reader got lost in the mall w rafia and the aftermath ?

Rafe and Sofia just wanted to have a 10 minute break from walking, so you can eat a small snack and they can sort out their things.

As they are searching through the amount of shopping bags for Rafe's wallet that he slipped into one of them in a haste after leaving the last store you were in.

"I swear I've put it in here somewhere..." He mutters, rummaging through the different bags furiously.

"Stop, you ain't gonna find it like that, let me-" Sofia starts but you tune their voices out when a store caught your attention, getting up from the bench you're sitting on beside the both.

A minute later Rafe finally found his wallet holding it up. "Got it. A'ight, where did you want to go next baby?" He asks, lifting his head to look at you, his heart dropping when you're not there, patting Sofia's shoulder. "Babe, where is she?"

Sofia furrows her brows turning her head to where you're supposed to be, her eyes widening. Both of them instantly stand up, their eyes scanning through the crowds of people for any sign of you.

Rafe's running a hand over his buzzed head while Sofia pulls out her phone, trying to call you but sighs when she hears your phone ringing in her bag, remembering that you gave it to her earlier so you wouldn't lose it somehow.

"Rafe, what if she's regressed? What if-" She starts to worry until Rafe places his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey, hey, don't freak out on me now. We'll find her, okay?" He assures her. "She can't be far, let's go."

Grabbing the bags, they start to search for you, walking a little faster and looking into various stores when they see you in a toy store, standing in front of a shelf that holds tons of stuffed animals.

"Thank god." Rafe sighs in relief, quickly making his way over to you and before he could start scolding you Sofia pulls you into her arms.

"Sof, look they have a pink bunny here!" You smile as she hugs you tightly, completely oblivious that you worried them beyond belief.

Sofia pulls away to cup your face in her hands, squeezing them together a bit. "You scared us, baby."

"Huh?" You furrow your brows, not understanding what she's talking about, feeling Rafe place his hand on the back of your head to pull you slightly closer and plants a kiss on top of it before pulling back to look down at you.

"You just ran away without telling us. We were worried about you, kid." He explains, his tone is a tad firm but not too much, knowing you didn't mean to worry them so much.

"M'sorry..." You mumble, now lowering your gaze to the ground in shame. "Jus' wanted to look at the plushies."

"Everything's okay now, at least we found you quickly." Sofia soothes your guilt, kissing your cheek in reassurance. Afterwards she turns her gaze to the bunny you wanted to show her.

She shares a look with Rafe and he rolls his eyes jokingly, grabbing the pastel colored bunny from the shelf. "This one looks a bit lonely here don't y'think? Better take it home." He says, handing it to you, a smile tugging on his lips when you smile again before going to hug him and he pats your back.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[hana-ane]

This poignant portrait was created by the talented and compassionate artist @tytolito who dedicated time and energy to shine a light on the profound struggles faced by those affected by war. The portrait captures the heart-wrenching emotions of a family devastated by conflict, where the children long for the day they can embrace their beloved father, Hashem, once more. Each brushstroke reflects their dreams of reunion and hope amidst the chaos that has torn their lives apart. This specific portrait is a tribute to a family separated by war, with the children’s sole wish being to reunite with their father.

Think of someone you love dearly. A family member, a partner, a friend, your son or your daughter . Someone who brings you joy, who you feel safe around, who makes you smile. Someone who makes your life better just by being in it.

Now, picture being separated from them, not just physically apart but also aware that they are in danger. Imagine the helplessness you would feel, missing them dearly while grappling with the fear that you may never see or hear from them again.

This heart-wrenching reality is what the Badr family is facing. The devastation caused by war has impacted countless lives, leaving so many relying on the kindness and compassion of others to survive. It’s a profound reminder of the strength of our connections and the importance of supporting one another in times of crisis.n. Not only being apart from them, but knowing they are in danger, and being helpless to do anything about it. Both missing your loved one, and living with the constant dread that you might never see or hear from them again. This is what the Badr family has been living through. The war has brought all sort of damage on people and their only way to survive it is by the kindness of other humans.

@dykesbat @fromjannah @nightowlssleep @writerqueenofjewels @girlinafairytale @kaapstadgirly @sayruq @maoistyuri @queerdaydreamz @gir-posting @lune-tic @the-ballerina-battle @from-the-river-to-the-sea @kibumkim @lookineedsleeps-art-blog @loserlesbianongsa @artificialcaretaker @hyperfixatingmenever@brokenbackmountain @doctor-a-snakeman @schoolhater @flower-tea-fairies @queerstudiesnatural @wolfythewitch @turian @turtletoria @ur-daily-inspiration @ibtisams @irhabiya @ot3 @olovelymoon-slow-answers @plomegranate @ashwantsafreepalestine @determinatenegation @good-old-gossip @lonniemachin @zigcarnivorous @cherifaouachani @vakarians-babe @blackpearlblast @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @neechees @neptunerings @mazzikah @memingursa @malcriada

[imsofreakingtired]

sevika x korean reader

(aka the most self indulgent hc list i will ever write that probably no one will read lol)

compARING HAND SIZES AS FLIRTING DFKJDSKDJ

south korean beauty standards are rough as hell. sometimes you get insecure about the shape of your face, your nose, and wonder seriously if you should get plastic surgery. when you tell her, she takes your chin in her hand and tilts your face up to look you in the eye. "the face you have now is the face i fell in love with. don't change it."

you whisper all your deepest feelings to her in korean so often that she understands and replies “i love you too” in accented korean and instead of giggling you correct her pronunciation to tease her (your heart's melting on the inside) "it's NA-DO SA-LANG-HAE." "bitch-- i tried."

you call her “sevika 오빠” (oppa, “older brother”, the korean equivalent of “daddy”) when you’re feeling coy and want to make her flustered, but usually “언니” (unnie, “older sister”, affectionate term a younger woman uses for an older woman)

other things you call her in korean: "네 강아지" (my puppy) "멋있어" (handsome) "자기야" (babe) "바보" (dummy) (your favorite)

you never do aegyo to anyone but her, she pretends to hate it but always snickers when you pull the "pretend to get something from your pocket and shoot her with a hand heart" move

you teach her every conceivable korean curse word and she memorizes them at a genius pace. whenever she drops something or burns her hand you hear her whisper “ssibal” (fuck) in the most perfect non-accented korean and you lose it every time

taking long walks beside the han river, watching the cars pass by on the bridge and the glimmer of seoul 

picnicking in the mountains and feeding her kimbap (she will not eat it unless you hold it out to her like she’s a little kid)

she’s also obsessed w shin ramyeon like every time you go grocery shopping she just throws like three packs of those spicy instant noodles into the cart 

she also loves kbbq and insists on grilling the meat herself because she supposedly knows the “secret” to making perfectly grilled samgyeopsal

if she's drunk enough on soju she will consent to you dragging her into a private karaoke room. she sings like a professional but claims to remember nothing the next morning, so you desperately wish you had recorded her.

she will never be caught dead taking one of those cute couple pictures at touristy locations but when you ask her to take pictures of you she takes the job as seriously as if she’s a professional photographer

you manage to drag her into a photo booth once. just once

she tries on men’s hanbok and OH MY GOD 

the neighborhood kids love her like they jump around calling her “sevika 이모” (ee-mo, auntie sevika) and want to hang on her arm and tell her to flex her arm to feel the muscle, they follow her around and she sometimes gives them melon candy if she happens to have some in her pocket

swears she does not cry at k-dramas. she cries at k-dramas. 

also swears she does not like k-pop songs but then you hear her playing "antifragile" while working out

CAFE DATES CAFE DATES 

once had to hold you back from beating the absolute shit out of a guy who said a racist comment to her. you beat him up anyway. 

figures out the complicated-ass subway system after two tries. this amazes you to no end. she knows exactly when to get off and where to transfer trains even though every announcement is in korean or japanese. 

on rainy days: she holds the umbrella as you walk down the backstreets of seoul, watching the water slide off the leaves and listening to the lonely calls of cicadas, your arm wrapped around her waist, leaning on her shoulder.

...yea,,,, sevika x korean reader....... ...

divider by @cafekitsune !

[seattlesellie]

hi angelll 🦋 I was wondering if you could write something about ellie having a dacryphilia kink, if not that’s okay I know it’s a little bit out there 🩵

not out there at all bb <3

ellie fucking loves in when you cry.

warnings: darcyphilia, public sex

fucking titanic. so cheesy, too.

little muffled soft sobs were escaping your mouth. sometimes watching a film in the theater made it feel… well, real. eyes locked on the screen, you couldnt help but feel pain. why did it have to happen to them? and that little old couple holding hands? and oh god - jack and rose were on that fucking door now too? youve watched that shit about a million times already, and it never failed to make you act like this. is the salty taste on your tongue from the buttery popcorn or from your flood of tears?

“mmph” you scrunched your nose, sniffling, trying to hold the snot inside.

and then there was ellie. munching on that popcorn, eyes focused on the screen, caressing your thigh, comforting you. did she just - hold in a giggle?

“s’not- not funny” you sniffled, josteled her, making her head bob.

“know its not, babe- just, so cute” she whispered, her lip curling into a sly smile. “so cute, youre so cute” she while smiling, and shoved another popcorn in her mouth.

“how are you not crying?!” you blurted out, utterly flabbergasted. how was she so calm about this? you could feel your own body trembling, tears clinging to your cheeks like pesky little irritants, and she didn't seem remotely fazed? It's rose and jack, for christs sake! theyre destined for a tragic end! not to mention the sinking ship, the countless lives at stake, and, oh my god, what if there were innocent animals aboard? what if there's a helpless puppy trapped in that chaos? that thought alone is just...

you let out a loud sob. what if?!

“shh… shh… gonna get us kicked out” she cooed, gently brushing away yet another warm tear from your cheek.

you turned your gaze back to the screen, desperately attempting to swallow the lump lodged in your throat. “els- cant not cry” you whimpered, followed by a sniffle and another plaintive whine.

ellie didnt turn her head back, however. ellie was staring at you, squinting her brows. ellie was supposed to watch the movie. but ellie had a different one playing in her head.

the way you uttered her name, a soft, pleading whine, oh… the way that sweet voice made her feel. your words spun her mind in dizzying circles.. “els… too tight” sniffle. she almost heard it echoing in her head. “hurting me, els” oh god. “s’too much ellie…” shit. she felt like she was writing a script. jack and rose didnt have shit on her.

she gulped. you didnt notice.

her left hand reached out to caress the dampness you had left upon her shoulder. she lightly pinched the fabric, witnessing a small droplet of moisture emerge, wetting her fingertip.

she was sick.

she shifted in her sit, slid off it slightly, and started shaking her leg.

focus on the movie, ellie. theres people around.

it was suddenly too hot, and her heart was beating too fast. why did she… like this? why did those tears, why did those whines… why were her boxers feeling tighter on her body?

she cleared her throat silently. eyes on the screen, ellie.

“hug me ellie” you whined.

can you stop fucking whining?

“of course” she whispered, and shifted to get closer. she wiped a tear from your eye. she wasnt laughing now. “put your head on my chest” she commanded. stay close right there, right there.

your tears continued to flow unabated. a wet patch had formed on her white tank top, marking the spot where your emotions had spilled over. one of your tears trickled down her chest, forging a path akin to a meandering river.

she felt like scratching herself. like slapping herself in the face. she listened to your soft breaths, and occasional sniffs.

she wondered if she could make you cry like that. wondered if youd sniff like that, if youd whine like that, when she was buried deep inside. could she circle your little clit with her thumb? and then could she wipe that tear off your cheek - with that same finger?

she gulped again. it was way too uncomfortable now, and why did you have to wear that top? why did you have to bring her here? why did your whines sound so cute, and why did she need to touch you right now and be the only reason for your tears?

fuck rose and jack. and fuck that ship.

her hand was still resting on your thigh. but it was moving now, ever so slightly, caressing it. she wanted to push it, push your buttons. she traced little circles on your thigh, and pretended to watch the flick playing on the screen.

her hand climbed futher up, and she was observing you intently from the corner of her eye.

your breath hitched up. “tickles” you murmured, in between sniffles.

“sorry” she whispered. she wasnt.

“you really are cute, though” she smirked.

every time she talked - its like you missed a scene. what if jack just died? what it he died and then your girlfriend called you cute and now you missed it?

“watch the movie, ellie” you warned.

like you could ever fucking warn her.

“m’watching it” she responded. “watching the movie.” if you were the movie you referred to, yeah, she was watching.

she planted a little kiss on your cheek. the old man sitting besides you sniffed. oh man, was he crying? the thought triggered yet another tear to cascade down your face. it felt as if someone had left a faucet running, the tears flowing without restraint.

her hand was caressing higher on your thigh now, and she squished the fat on the side. it almost hurt. ellie was wheezing now, she tried to hold her breath, but she couldnt.

she cupped your cunt, without warning.

shit.

her gaze adverted to the people sitting on the sits next to you. she was checking if theyd notice if she fucked you with her fingers right now.

the sudden contact made you jump. her hand was so warm, and it somehow managed to press right on your clit, and it tickled, but it felt so so good… but jack- but oh, ellie.

“what are you doing?” you whispered frantically. the lady sitting next to you cleared her throat. you didnt really whisper, apparently.

“i told you… youre cute” ellie whispered into your ear, her warm breath gently caressing your skin.

“and i like it when you cry”

oh.

you didnt respond. was the movie still rolling? your cheeks were still wet. your breathing got heavier.

she caressed your cunt through your jeans, and crossed her legs. she needed her own type of friction, too. her index finger went up and down the hem of the jeans located right on your clit. she was teasing it, pressing slightly. you spread your legs, involuntarily, almost. you looked at her with this look, it was filled with doubt, but god did you look needy, and pathetic, eyes glistening and cheeks burning. it drove her crazy.

“dont look at me, look at the screen” she commanded, brought her hand to your chin, pinched it and forced your face to shift towards the screen again. you tried to, tried to fixate on the moving characters, but fuck - it felt too good, and you needed more.

“gonna fuck you right here, gonna give you a real reason to cry, yeah?” she whispered, and you shivered. her pupils were blown out. for all she knew the movie was over and the credits rolled up. for all she knew a mall cop was standing right in front of you, she didnt really give a fuck.

“mm- yeah?” you whimpered, and slapped your hand on your mouth. fuck, you needed to stay quiet. this could definitely put you on a list.

ellie took the popcorn container and placed it on your crotch.

“shut up” she whispered in your ear, making you moan a string of curse words.

she shifted her eyes towards the screen, and pretended to watch.

her hand skillfully opened the button of your jeans, and fuck, you were shaking.

she played with the band of your panties with her veiny hand, gave it a twist and started pulling it up. it was grazing over your clit so good. you held back a moan, eyes rolling back.

your heart was beating so fast. what if people saw? what if-

ellie let go of your panties, and slid her hand right in. god, you were soaking, and you didnt even notice. she chuckled. shed give you shit for it later. “how are you always so wet for me?” its like you could read her thoughts.

her middle finger played with your sleek, brushing it up and down so slowly. she wanted to fucking taste it. pull your pants down, and start licking your pussy in front of everyone, giving them a real good fucking show. your mind went blank. ellie, ellie, ellie. that was the name of the movie playing now.

she bit her knuckle. she fucking loved teasing you, but fuck did she need to put a finger in, fuck- did she need to feel how tight you swallow it in, how your hole just clenches, how it owns her, holding her locked inside.

she wanted to - but she couldnt. make her cry.

her finger merely grazed your tight hole, teasing it. she wouldnt go inside, absolutely not. she caressed it up and down, and side to side, and then almost, almost let it slip inside, but pulled back. your mouth was watering, you wanted to chase that climax - you felt like you could come right then and there, just from knowing, just from feeling her hand on your cunt. the noise that came out was disgusting, her hand was covered in your sweet juices, creating obscene squelching sounds.

you whimpered in your sit, and tried pushing your hips forward. if she didnt put it inside, you needed to feel at least something on your clit. she was purposely avoiding it. its like you were cockwarming her hand. “m’god” you gulped.

“yeah?” she whispered into your ear and cupped your cunt again, and you turned your needy gaze to her for just a second. her eyes were closed and her eyebrows were squinting, you could hear her heavy unsteady breaths.

you whimpered, and bit your lips so hard they bled slightly. keep fucking quiet, she told you to shut up.

with her hand cupping your cunt, she began moving it up and down, grabbing your entire pussy with her hand. the popcorn container moved with it, bobbing up and down. fuck, thank god its dark.

she gave your clit a pinch, and it fucking hurt, but it felt so good, sending small jolts of pleasure to your body. she wouldnt let it go, just pinched it, and then released, and pinched it again. you needed to cum so bad, you almost cried. “m’ellie… ellie” you whispered while moaning her name, chanting it like a prayer. almost there, almost exploded all over her warm hand,

its like she read your mind. “dont cum” she whispered in your ear, making you let out a muffled moan.

you nodded your head frantically, trying to swallow the moans threatening to leave your mouth.

a tear formed in your eye. you needed it so bad.

she formed circles with her cupped hand again. you could feel everything. you took your sweater covered hand and bit it down.

she was panting in her sit.

“thats it” she whispered in your ear, and pinched your pussy lips together, so swollen, so pathetic.

the hot tear came down so fast, dropping on your cheek, and then sledding down on your neck, on your chest now.

“cry about it” she commanded, whispering in your ear, trying to hold back her own sounds of pleasure.

so you did.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Fracture: A What Is Broken Oneshot (18+)

Two moon turns before he returns to you, Aemond calls Alys to him to relieve his stress, only for her to teach him something that Aemond will soon teach you, as well.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers, Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy, infidelity, very vague sex

Author's Note: A prequel to my mini-series, What is Broken, based on this ask, and expanded upon with the help of my horny mind.

High Valyrian Translations: Abrazȳrītsos - little wife Raqiarzītsos - little darling

Fracture

Aemond was at the southern window when she arrived, gazing towards his home, to where his ābrazȳrītsos was held captive by their would-be usurper of a half-sister and their deranged uncle. It was a mistake to do so, to let his mind wander to her. Doing so only unsettled him – dredged up a sickly feeling of longing and guilt within his chest.

Thinking of her made his resolve waver. Dangerously.

His instincts screamed at him, clawing from within his heart as they begged him to mount Vhagar, fly south, and kill as many people as was necessary to take his ābrazȳrītsos back.

“You summoned me, my prince?” A sickly sweet voice called from the doorway.

The owner of that voice was the sole reason he kept his feet firmly planted to the stones of Harrenhal. Not for any affection he felt for her, for there was none. But because of her assurances that his ābrazȳrītsos was alive and well and would remain so. Because the witch Alys Rivers had seen it in her visions—the same visions that had guided him to victory time and time again and demanded that he remain in the cursed castle until the war was won.

It would be soon, Alys told him. In time for him to be by his ābrazȳrītsos’s side before she took to the birthing bed. He just had to endure a little while longer.

But to endure, he would need Alys’ help.

He hated himself for it, but he needed it – needed her – nonetheless.

“You took your time arriving.” He really shouldn’t have looked south while waiting for her, now he was in an even fouler mood than before.

Alys tutted. He hated when she did that – it reminded him of his mother. “Apologies, my prince, but I was with Maester Artos.”

He whirled, eyes wide as they settled on her abdomen, where the babe lay.

Their babe – Aemond and Alys’. His bastard.

He knew he shouldn’t care about it, should have commanded her to drink moon tea when she first suspected his seed had taken. But it was just a child. His child. And it had happened so quickly. With his ābrazȳrītsos, it had taken nearly two years for their efforts to bear fruit. For it to happen almost immediately with Alys… Perhaps this bastard had been the will of the gods, meant for some purpose he could not yet understand.

“The child?” Aemond asked, trying to mask his concern. Not that he had ever been able to lie to Alys; her grass-green eyes were too perceptive, almost owlish.

“Perfectly well.” She walked into the room as if it were hers, inspecting the maids' work with a finger dragged atop the low table near the bed. It was, apparently, satisfactory. “I was inquiring after something for myself.”

Strange. Alys and Maester Artos hated each other. For her to willingly seek his help, it must be something serious. “But the babe is not in danger?”

Alys laughed, patting the swell of her stomach. “The babe is the source of my discomfort, in truth.”

“Discomfort?”

She spoke to him as if he were a foolish child, asking if it were true that a great white bird brought babes to their parents swaddled in pink and blue blankets. “Come, my prince, you cannot truly think there is no discomfort in pregnancy?”

There was. He knew there was. His poor ābrazȳrītsos had been so ill when he left. Grand Maester Orwyle told them that some sickness was to be expected in all pregnancies, but the degree of her illness was unusual.

He had felt so guilty. He had done this to her. The babe was the product of both of them, but she was the only one suffering for it.

The only thing that dulled his guilt was the letters she’d sent him soon after he arrived at Harrenhal to gleefully inform him that the sickness had finally abated. But when Rhaenyra and Daemon took King’s Landing, the letters stopped.

He went mad with grief and rage, and would not have hesitated to march south with Ser Criston were it not for Alys’ visions. That he must remain at Harrenhal. That Daemon would kill his ābrazȳrītsos if he tried to reclaim her, and the war would be lost. That his raqiarzītsos and their babe would be well, and they would all be reunited soon.

So, he remained in this cursed castle, and Ser Cole was killed on the march to King’s Landing. Rhaenyra ruled from the Iron Throne, his ābrazȳrītsos her prisoner. Daemon and one of the bastards who had somehow claimed a dragon continued to elude Aemond, and the war waged on. And through all of it, Alys remained at Aemond’s side and in his bed.

He should feel guilty for Alys’ suffering, too, should he not? After all, he was also responsible for the babe she carried, much as it shamed him. He could not be there to ease his ābrazȳrītsos’s suffering, but he could be for Alys. Grand Maester Orwyle had said that it was better for the babe for the mother to be happy and healthy.

“What is your discomfort?”

“An aching in my back,” she explained, turning to show him where she rested a hand against the base of her spine. “The babe is growing swiftly, and the weight is not easy to bear.”

Aemond raised a brow in confusion. A babe was a small, tiny thing, and this one was only half-formed. It could not weigh more than a pound or two, yet it somehow caused enough pain to send Alys to the Maester?

As if she had read his thoughts, she shook her head in admonishment. “It is not only the weight of the babe itself, my prince, but of the changes my body must make to accommodate –”

“I don’t need to hear it,” he interrupted, hoping to prevent the vague lightheadedness that threatened him whenever he heard talk of such things. It was knowledge meant only for women and Maesters, and he was happy to let it remain so. “All I need know is if there is any risk to the babe.”

Alys sighed, turning to the low table where an untouched decanter of wine lay, and poured herself a small glass, swirling the liquid for long moments before speaking. “There is always some risk to any pregnancy, especially when the mother is in discomfort.”

Orwyle had said something similar months ago when they first learned that his ābrazȳrītsos was with child. It was why the Grand Maester had only grown more concerned when her illness worsened. And if Alys herself was worried enough to see Maester Artos, whom she hated openly, she must be quite concerned.

“What can be done?” he asked, cursing himself for worrying for the bastard – his bastard. If something was wrong, perhaps it was the gods' will, their merciful hand intervening to wipe his sin from existence. But there was still that tug, blood to blood, that compelled him to protect, protect, protect.

Shrugging, Alys sipped at her wine. “Little. Small measures to ease the weight on my spine.”

“Such as?”

A sly smile that set Aemond’s skin prickling. “Allowing someone else to bear the weight for a moment or two.”

It was as close as she would ever come to giving him an order. Never spoken plainly, always implied. Always glittering in those unnatural eyes.

Though anger welled within him, righteous indignation at the power this woman, this servant, this bastard exerted over him with mere whispered words, he obeyed. He abandoned the window and the distant view of his home, his wife. He descended once more into the dark, damp depths of Harrenhal and the grasp of its Witch Queen.

“If you would stand behind me, my prince,” she said gently. Too softly, as if she had not just masterfully manipulated him like a mummer’s puppet.

He allowed her to pull his strings, obeying silently.

“You must stand closer, my prince.” So he did.

“May I lean on you so that you could put your arms around me?” She was against him before he’d righted his chin from a nod.

“Just a little lower, your grace.” He lowered his hands until they cradled the swell of her belly.

“Now, lift just slightly. You’ll know when you’ve done it properly.”

And he did. Alys sighed as the weight – certainly more than a pound – settled into his grasp. The most natural, human sound he’d ever heard from her. As if the relief this small favor had granted was as great as lifting the burden of the world from her shoulders.

It was only fair. He was the one who had put this particular burden inside her.

The moment was strangely peaceful, when he realized, with a small, secret smile, that this was the first time he had held his child. Indirect as it was. And not at all how he’d imagined it would be.

No, in his mind, the first time he held his child would be mere moments after it was born. It would be swaddled in a blanket bearing the red and black sigil of his house, stark against the silver-white of its hair and the wide, warm brown eyes it shared with its mother…

Any sympathy he had for Alys’ discomfort vanished the moment his ābrazȳrītsos entered his thoughts. Who was helping her when her back ached? Who held her close to bear the weight of their child?

No one. Because it should only be him, her husband. But he had abandoned her and the babe. Left them both to fight their brother’s war, left them vulnerable when the Blacks took the castle, and –

Fuck. His mind was racing again. He could feel panic in his fingertips, creeping into his veins like a thousand tiny spiders. He needed to calm himself, clear his mind, and fast.

“Get against the wall,” he commanded, stepping away from Alys.

She grunted slightly when he released his hold on her belly. “My prince, that will not ease my discomfort.”

She grunted again when he wrapped a hand harshly around her neck. Not to choke or harm her, but to impress upon her his distinct lack of patience as he growled against her ear. “Then bend over the fucking bed.”

Aemond didn’t wait for her to obey before he shoved her roughly toward the bed, one hand pushing her down while the other tore at the laces of his trousers. Already, the blood that pounded in panic within his heart was slowing, rushing lower as his mind slowed, drawing away from the love he could not reach to the easy release that was already within his grasp.

Alys hit the bed with a wince, scrambling to reclaim her composure and poise as she raised herself on her hands and arched her back. The movement brought her belly to rest against the bed, cradled gently in the soft blankets.

A cruel, dark laugh escaped Aemond, one he knew would terrify those who thought they knew him and loved him as the man he no longer was. “I think this is a fine solution for your pains, don’t you?”

“It is, my prince,” Alys grunted, struggling to maintain her calm, sultry tone.

He leaned down, plastering his front to her back as he drove into her hard enough to make the bed lurch beneath them, sinking his teeth into her shoulder to hold back his animalistic moan of pleasure. One of her hands moved to hold his waist, but he wrenched it away, holding it to the bed as he sank in, out, in, out, in out.

All thoughts of a pretty little wife, soon to bear a perfect little heir, faded away. As did the scents and sounds and sensations of brutal war. Aemond became not a creature of mind and soul, of thought and reason, but of flesh and bone, of feeling and instinct.

This was what he had to become, had to be, if he wanted to survive to reunite with that pretty little wife and meet that perfect little heir. The monster would win the war so the man could return home.

To her.

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[kedsandtubesocks]

your king & lionheart

Pluto!Din Djarin x Proserpina!Reader x Marcus Acacius

summary: trouble grows & you’re in need of a personal guard, thankfully Rome’s grand general seems to be perfect - not just for you (but maybe for your husband as well)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS, Roman Mythology AU, bodyguard themes, light creative changes in the hades/persephone myth, possibly can be read as power dynamics (god/human relationships), bi!Din Djarin & bi!Marcus Acacius, protective!Din & protective!Acacius, everyone is love sick, hurt & comfort, brief scenes of violence/threat of it, spicy themes, smut (threesome, f!oral, slight cuck vibes, moment of cock worship & cum eating), hints of soft dom!Din & sub!Acacius, M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, use of gendered language, no use of y/n

word count: 7k

a/n: I know…my first fic of 2025 & of course it’s a funky AU & poly fic lmao, thank you @perotovar for being my mythology babe and for the guidance ily erin, also shoutout to @pedgito & @hauntedhowlett for always letting me scream about my weird ass ideas & never judging me lol… and to you if you’re reading this - thanks for being here [divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics]

You and your husband heard of the rumors surrounding the General who arrived into your realm.

You just never thought he would be this handsome.

General Marcus Acacius now kneels before you clad in his armor. The soldier keeps his head lowered. Strands of grey flow like rivers in his curls. You caught a glimpse of his hawkish beautiful nose, every bit stunning as your husband.

Though by his appearance General Acacius looks every bit older than you. The glorious passing of time has been kind to this man.

So many fallen soldiers just like him have passed through your gates, even some that have been slain by the Roman general himself.

But what makes this man so special, so different, is the kismet swirling around him.

He ignited a new shift among Rome, among the empire. All of your kind whisper curious about the shifting of tides. It felt as if the ground felt unsteady. It’s why you headed home to the underworld early this season.

“Your majesties.” The soldier exhales, understanding the gravity of this moment.

“General Acacius,” Din, your husband, the god of this realm, gleaming in his grand armor rises from his throne.

“You are here for a reason. Rise.” He announces.

Acacius does as told, rising from his knees, ever the noble soldier.

“I have a task for you,” Din begins.

Acacius would be assigned as your personal guard until Rome and cosmos settle.

“But you both are gods, why would you need me? A simple solider? A simple man?” Acacius now appears incredibly young, curious and confusion coloring his face.

As powerful as the gods are, they rely on the worship and prayer that give them their spirit. And with the unstable times arising in Rome, there was a fear of chaos sprouting.

Especially within the underworld, Tartarus’s flames flickered stronger, almost growing brighter. The fear of the danger and evil imprisoned breaking free worried both you and Din.

“I need you to protect my wife. ” Din declares, simple and firm.

General Acacius, if he agrees, will not be able to pass into the fields to fully rest. He will have to wait until his service finishes.

But Din adds how the reward will be grand.

Acacius blinks with a stunned opened jawed awe, seems to finally process the words.

Swallowing hard, the general nods then places his fist over his heart.

“I will serve you both.”

-

Lord Jupiter and the others call for Din more than ever. Rome’s shift of power and influence continues to steep into the world. The cosmos rock, an unsteady sea, and it feels as if something could spark at any moment.

It’s why you try even now to soak in peace. You’ve always enjoyed strolls around the edge of the rivers, among your most special places within the underworld.

Now you have company in stride beside you.

“I never expected the world of the dead would be beautiful.” Acacius admires.

Glee fills you watching Acacius wander in awe over all the sights - the stretched catacombs, the caverns of crystal, the endless rivers, and the small patch of greenery sprouting with the asphodel and pomegranate trees you’ve provided now as the queen of this realm.

General Acacius proves to be a keen mind, curious and eager to learn. He asks about the rivers, the stretches of land that blend into each other.

He reminds you of a new sprout that’s budded here among the charcoal sands and looks promising to grow.

You grin pleased, unable to contain it.

His face catches you and a flustered stammer falls over him. It paints the seasoned General beautifully boyish.

“Don’t mind me, your majesty. I must appear foolish taking this all in. It’s just the poets, the myths, they said this would be a joyless place.”

“I’m glad you get to see this world through new eyes. And you’re not foolish. I adore seeing your reactions.” You understood and tell him truthfully.

A beautiful twinkle returns to his wise older eyes.

After that the soldier becomes a cherished companion quickly, especially with Din still above ground.

Eventually you even bring Acacius to the edge of the realm, to the gates. Cerberus sensing your presence immediately shakes the land with his thunderous booms as he rushes to the gate.

All three heads excitedly press against the bars begging for attention. You laugh warmly trying to pet all three beasts best as you can.

“The hell hound guarding the gates.” Acacius mutters stunned, frightened almost, and when you glance back at him you’re surprised to see the general recoiled slightly.

He’s hesitant the way a smart soldier is sensing danger.

“Cerberus is just a big puppy.” You reassure, even turning to press a kiss to one of the big snouts.

“Says the goddess who commands him.” Acacius scoffs unconvinced.

That makes you laugh. With an eased nudge you urge the general to come forward. Seeming more curious now, he takes a few steps forward moving closer to you.

The guardian hound senses the new presence, smells the scent of a soul, and instantly growls menacing.

“Shh!” You chide the beast. “Come now. He’s a friend and protector of mine. Behave.”

The creature settles and soon enough, Acacius is at the gate by your side.

Gingerly, you raise your hand with his, guiding his larger more calloused warm hand. Then you rest it against one of the snouts of the beast.

The content grumble from the creature comes. A surprise laugh, a one bubbled up in pure surprise, escapes Acacius and it’s lovely.

He pets Cerberus in full earnest now especially with how quickly the beast jumps at the attention.

You’re reminded of yourself, the first time you took to the creature.

Yet, Acacius also reminds you of your sweet husband - a soft heart for a warrior bathed in blood.

When Din returns to his realm you wondered how the two would interact with such similar personalities.

You quickly discover they’re both similar in many ways. Both warriors are incredibly stalwart, steadfast, quiet at first, but ultimately quite tender hearted.

Your heart lifts at how immediately they bond.

Din too is a soldier, one who served during the ancient war with the old gods. At times he and Acacius seem like old veterans reminiscing of their days on the battlefield.

You’re just surprised it’s now spilled over into the courtyard.

Din, in your humble opinion, is a soldier comparable to that of Mars. He’s fluid, intelligent, capable of fighting with various forms of weapons.

But he’s met his match.

While Din trains with his spear, Acacius prefers the sword, and his proficiency in it is incredible. The blade and him dance together, keeping Din on his toes. They readily trade swipes and blows. You watch enraptured at the sight of these two powerful men fighting effortlessly with each other.

Hearing their grunts, watching their strong bodies maneuver, it all ignites a fierce dizzying passion licking flames through your body. Especially as Acacius manages to pin Din down. The older general kneeling above your husband is a sight

“Seems he’s bested you, oh terrifying ruler of the dead.” You tease, but it’s a faux cover for the burning heat in you.

Your husband, keen as ever, notices it.

Later in the sanctuary of your bed chamber, Din speaks on it first.

“You desire him.” Your husband murmurs.

Gently you glide over to your king, hand reaching up to his helm, the beautiful sleek enduring metal cool to the touch as you move to lift it.

No matter how many sun cycles pass you’ll never tire of seeing Din’s face after removing his sacred helmet.

His endless abyss eyes show no anger, if anything you spot a shimmering hesitation. For being the most terrifying dreary force of a god, Din can be quite shy at times.

“I have a feeling… you desire him as well.” You mutter as the realization solidifies in you, like pieces of a pattern suddenly collecting into place.

Why hadn’t you caught it sooner? The way Din’s helmet follows Acacius, how lively and bright his voice sounded earlier during the casual match…

Din’s eyes flicker to yours.

“Do you imagine him here? With us?” You ask delicately.

A lustful nebulous haze falls over Din’s face, clouding his eyes and making him inhale sharp.

It’s a collision of teeth, a bubbling lust swallowing you and your husband whole. After centuries together, there’s comfort and something beautifully raw about not needing to say a word. Instead - knowing the way you and him both grab at each other, the understanding lies there.

Thoughts of Acacius choke the air, an unseen fog. All the possibilities mix with Din’s touch and you get lost in the molten carnal cloud surrounding your bed chamber.

The next morning when you arrive at your garden your cheeks burn bright. You’re grateful Acacius is resting today.

So many orchids now sprout along the greenery.

“Haven’t seen these in bloom since we celebrated our reunion last moon cycle.” Din chuckles amused and you glare at your husband.

Orchids, in your mind, symbolize passion with their sexual design along with the delicate nature they take. Din’s gloved fingers tenderly caress your back.

Never in your many eons would you have ever believed both you and your husband would be yearning together over one sole soldier.

“You’re not jealous?” You softly ask under the shade of the array of orchids blooming among the dead.

“Are you?” Din recounters.

Truthful, you shake your head no.

“I was worried I would be and that you would be. But instead of jealousy it feels…it feels like…”

Like your heart has simply bloomed more petals, grown larger in its size. Your love has not dwindled or even waived for your husband. In fact it’s only deepened knowing you can be truthful and honest with Din.

It almost makes you giggle thinking both you and Din are here ogling after the same man like a couple of young sprouts.

You tell this all to Din who squeezes you in his arms tighter.

“You always know what to say, even know how I feel.” He admits.

“I suppose living with you for so long has its benefits.” You tease. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes under his helmet.

Now among the delicate orchids, your mind drifts to the soldier enjoying a day’s rest.

“Do you have a plan of attack, my queen?” Din rumbles as his helm covered face presses gently against you.

“Desire, matters of the heart, laugh at plans, my lord. You know that.” You tease squeezing his hand.

His dry chuckle is a precious reward.

Especially as your heart stumbles over a sobering truth.

Acacius could possibly not care to be desired by either you or Din.

You knew he was married. Acacius often speaks of his wife and how he hopes to visit her once he passes on from this realm into the restful fields.

“Once I pass on, I believe I will be at peace.” He nods dutifully by your side when you and him return to strolling among the rivers.

Those words cause you to pause for a moment.

“Are you not at peace now, General?” You ask curious.

“I am, my queen.” He rapidly replies fighting back a flash of panic that surged in his eyes.

You know Acacius met his fate by the hands of the precious emperors. He understands what trouble can emerge by upsetting a ruler, much less a goddess.

“Marcus,” you say his name for the first time, testing it on your tongue. You don’t miss the way his deep eyes widen.

“Please speak as freely as you want. I promise, no harm will come to you.” You vow placing a hand over your heart, the word of a ruler.

Now Acacius sighs standing among the arched hallways and columns of the underworld’s palace.

“I have found glimpses of peace here. But I know I still have much to atone for. The lives I’ve slain…I don’t deserve peace for the damage I've caused.”

Your heart suddenly collapses into your chest.

“You’re a good man, Marcus.” You tell him. “I promise your days of peace will come, and you’ll be surrounded by more love than you have ever known. It’s what a man like you deserves.”

Suddenly your hand is being lifted up, your eyes flicker to Acacius who bows his head in grace.

He raises his hand to your lips placing a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

“You are too gracious, your majesty.” Acacius mutters.

Then a skeletal guard arrives.

”Your majesty,” he interrupts with a cautious tone.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

“We are not sure…we are searching…trying to find the source.” His answer doesn’t settle any panic but instead doubles it.

Acacius shifts closer, and your eyes shoot towards him. He stands beside you the unmovable force of Rome’s sword, the heart of its military. His face is hardened, steady.

You call to him.

“Please, go with the guard. Discover what’s happening.” You urge soft.

“My lady,” he urges and the title now tugs at your heart. “I am vowed to be by your side. I need to be here, protecting you.”

“I can manage a few moments alone. I will feel safer knowing you’re out there searching.” You truthfully tell him.

Hesitation and conflict battle on the handsome older man’s face. Then with a nod Acacius follows the guards lead.

Now alone, you stay out in the open, wandering around until you find a place to sit and rest.

A strange chill crawls across your skin. The air feels different in the grand hallway. Something isn’t quite right.

“You truly are as beautiful as the myth says.” A new voice croaks.

Behind you stands a man, a stranger, specifically an unmarked shade. How had he wandered here? His eyes dance over you, curious but in a way that feels dangerous.

Especially while he moves closer to you with a hand outstretched.

Before you can say anything, a sword shines from the darkness of the hallway. Acacius emerges smoothly out from across you keeping his blade to the spirit’s throat.

“You dare touch her, and I will show you another death.” He mutters low, deadly and powerful.

The spirit with terror in his eyes does as told, returns to where he needs to be. But the dread remains even clutching onto the general’s arm.

The goddess of the crossroads, Trivia, among her magic and grandeur wearing the face of the crone, warns you to be careful. Acacius stays stitched to your side more than ever.

“The surface world, Rome particularly, continues to eat at itself like a chained animal.” Her voices, three as one, alluded to what you can even sense here.

It’s why your eyes can’t help but watch the flames of Tartarus. Instead of its steady small amber flame, it now seems to flicker rapidly, like a furious candle that wishes to spread its wildfire. Who knows what dread would come of the prison’s chains unleash.

Then, late in the night, alone in your bedchamber, a whisper wakes you with the soft call of your name.

Immediately you glance around your large empty bedroom with Din still above ground.

But from your open window, the flame of Tartarus spills over a glow that is not a warm amber but a blazing pure blood red.

Danger.

You hastily grab your cloak and rush out.

Your mind races and you have no time to think of anything else but getting to the prison. Acacius would not be able to step foot near this space so you do not even try searching for him.

The flaming river thrashes violently, like a flood about to spill over. It shakes the ground you stand on causing you to fall.

“Little goddess!” So many voices, tormented and distorted, screech. They cry out from the depths of the prison.

“The time of your rule is coming to an end….Feed us your blood!” They howl against the raging fire.

The rumble of the hydra follows. Its many heads still do not scream but as you glance past the gate that stands looming, the iron seems to rattle. The adamantine will not shatter you know this. But fear claws at your heart.

Beyond the gates sits the primordial darkness, teeming with the treat that it can swallow you whole. You swear someone, something, smiles something sinister from it, taunting you.

This is still your realm. You’re still queen of this world, born to be a part of the rebirth.

Fighting against the fear, you steady yourself.

Snapping your fingers, you smile wide and victorious to the darkness.

An anguished and sinister howl rattles the air causing the pathway to shift unstable. The river rages. Even the hydra rumbles more, with some of its heads peering awake. Whatever aches to leave will know a harsher pain for this transgression.

Then, someone simply lifts you up off the ground, as if you are a feather.

“My lady!” General Acacius screams and the roar of Cerberus can be heard faintly. Even with your eyes stinging from the heat, you catch how his body fades in and out as if transparent. He shouldn’t be here.

You whisper out his name while he rushes out of the prison with you in his arms.

On the floor of the palace exhaustion pummels your body, Acacius barks for healers.

“Are you hurt?” You ask him worried now and his face turns to you concerned. Soot and scratches cover his body. But you’re thankful he’s here still and not consumed by the prison’s void.

“No, dear lady, they are for you.”

Finally glance down, the sight frightens you.

The skin of your hands cracks, shed open, revealing the decay and cosmic abyss of the underworld’s power manifesting within you now. It spills from your skin, stinging. You had never tapped into your abilities this much…

Exhaustion swallows your vision immediately after. But before it does you swear you feel two sets of warm hands moving to steady you.

Two voices scream your name.

-

“I was scared I wouldn’t make it .” Din whispers, holding you in his arms. It feels as if you haven’t left them for days.

“I’m alright.” You reassure your husband, rubbing his warm sturdy chest. “Acacius saved me.”

He had… more than you realized.

Trivia, once she examined your wounds. With wide multiple eyes, revealed how it had been foolish to use your powers so close to the primordial prison, to the old gods and ancient ones. It was like trying to fight fire with fire.

“It amplified your abilities to a point of instability.” She explained. “Any moment there longer, who knows what could have happened to you.”

Marcus Acacius truly came like the guardian he is and saved you.

“He’s a spirit, how did he even manage to survive?” You ask, still stunned and impressed.

“He holds a strong heart and pure soul.” The goddess of magic answers.

“I owe him a great debt.” Din had said and you believe you did as well.

So you call Acacius to your side in your bedchamber.

His molten eyes hold a multitude of emotions. He does not conceal their shine.

“My queen, forgive me-” His voice cracks and you shake your head, interrupting him.

“No, I’m the one who needs your forgiveness.” You whisper.

You and Din cannot see him as a simple tool to keep at your aid.

General Acacius deserves to find peace, a life away from service and duty. The panic you had of knowing how close he was to Tartarus felt too much. Even when you told Din that he understood.

Your hand cups the general’s cheek. Shimmering gemstone eyes soften, and his mouth drops slightly agape.

Your thumb traces against the scruff of his beard.

“You really are a rare soul.” You tell him already detesting your voice for cracking under the weight of your emotions.

His larger hand rises up to rest on top of yours.

“Tell me, what is troubling you.” He urges, squeezing your hand.

You shake your head. You need not bother him anymore.

Closing your eyes to rest some more, you realize Acacius keeps your hand in his warm firm grasp the entire time.

More nights are spent in the comfort of bed rest.

Trivia once again visits, keeping you company, this time wearing the face of the maiden.

“It seems your two warriors are getting along quite well.” She comments casually, and you curiously sit up.

Your eyes narrow, curious and suspicious at her words. Her ancient eyes, all knowing, stay focused on her scroll.

“I’ve just… seen how close the two have become. I’ve heard that when they are not here with you, they rarely separate from each other.”

That releases a flutter into your chest.

With a kiss goodbye to Din who returns above ground with the goddess of the crossroads, Marcus Acacius is again by your side.

“I’m glad you and Din get along well.” You admit.

The small tug of a smile flickers across the General’s gorgeously aged face.

“The king of the underworld has become a fast… companion.”

You know he means the term towards friendship, but the greed in your heart gnaws thinking of them as something far richer in terms of companionship.

“He loves you.” Acacius adds through a thick voice. “You two love each other. I thought after all the stories I had heard…”

You knew what the stories painted you as, what it told of you and your husband. Even now your fingers seem to inch for pomegranate seeds.

“The myths sometimes get twisted and lost with the ages.” You truthfully tell Acacius.

“I understand now.” He mutters. “It’s a type of devotion some only believe exists in stories. But I’ve seen it… see it so clearly, even without having to see his face.”

Even though love surges every inch of your being, you find a sense of longing and ache tinge his voice.

“You miss your wife.” You state low.

The general sighs, his eyes hazing over.

“At times yes. But…” he pauses, gathering himself and you find his eyes still haven’t met yours.

“I knew our arrangement, our marriage, wasn’t her first. But I was glad to provide, grew to love her. And I like to believe she too loved me in a way. But then…”

Molten earth eyes finally flicker up to yours.

You wait, expecting him to continue. Instead the general’s eyes stay taking you in, like a hesitation stops from him speaking.

Realization settles in soft, effortless, a reminder that even though this man appears decades older than you and even Din, he is still such a young soul compared to you.

He’s jealous.

Jealous of the relationship you and Din have.

Sympathy rises fast. You do understand, truly.

“I haven’t seen Din bind himself to someone as fast as he has with you.” You suddenly speak first.

“It almost has me a bit jealous.” You add lightly teasing. Fright flashes across the general’s face and you quickly grab his hand to hold.

“But I’m not.” Truth hums in you, you hear it in your voice.

“It’s a blessing to find another companion, one that he and I both deeply adore. Makes me grateful to know we haven’t become stagnant in our time down here.” You admit with a soft self deprecating grin.

“It will be hard to see you pass on from our halls.” That truth manages to slip past you.

Acacius squeezes your hand.

“My lady…” the exhale he breathes sounds uncertain, heartbreakingly vulnerable.

This time you raise his hand to your lips, pressing a grateful kiss to his palm in reverence at the man who’s brought new light into your realm.

Something shifts after that, a planetary orbit falling into place.

When you’re finally allowed to return to your garden, both your king and general stay firmly beside you.

Peace and tranquility mix within the air and you're grateful to finally be among your elements. The red roses, which you greatly liken to Din, now have new companions of their own.

White rose buds slowly make their way through the greenery, sprouting steady and true.

A disbelieved laugh almost escapes you.

If Din is your red rose, your heart sees Acacius as a white one.

Suddenly a guard humbly interrupts the gathering, announcing the lord of the palace is needed.

Din sighs, weary and exhausted, as he rises to leave. Before he does, the god of the dead rests his forehead against yours, a type of kiss you’ve recognized for eons.

And then, Din’s gloved finger tips gingerly trace along the general’s jaw.

You’re surprised at such a casual show of affection and even poor Acacius sits stunned. Din, who luckily had his face hidden under the helm, now takes his leave.

Acacius sitting a bit stunned flickers his shocked eyes to you.

“Sweet surprise suits you well, General.” You tease.

Now a rather grumpy hardened look of a soldier falls over his face, and laughter overtakes you at his reaction.

But the joy extinguishes quickly. Din returns back to the garden, this time with more guards accompanying him.

From the tense stillness of his shoulders, the way his helmet stares unflinching at you, worry settles into your heart immediately.

-

Marcus Acacius is a man battle tested. He believes in the law, in the rational of the mind. He favored the tangible over the thought of mythical gods. Yet now that he lives among their realm, walks beside them, Marcus feels more human than ever.

He had witnessed the sight of the rulers of the dead when he first arrived.

But now he watches with new eyes.

He drinks you in.

The legends speaking of your beauty are true. You sit on the throne beside your husband the picture of a composed queen, a goddess created of both life and death.

And then your husband, clad in the sacred steel of the underworld and the unflinching helmet he wore - the two of you were a marvel of a pair.

Acacius feels out of place, a simple observer and passerby.

Then his soul leaves his body when the guards bring in the soul in question for judgment.

Emperor Geta, the watchful creature he is, whips his head all around with a grimace on his face. Then the young emperor’s eyes spot him and Acacius stiffens.

“You.” He sneers. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

Geta then snaps his attention to the two rulers. “He is but a simple soldier! I am the ruler of Rome, the vessel for the gods. Why is he not the one on trial?”

“When you die, you are but a simple man. And you will be judged as such.” Lord Din says simply, unmoved by the frustrated loud tone of emperor Geta.

“Because you were being unreasonable with the judges, now you stand before us.” You further explain.

Geta, like a petulant child, continues to demand and scream.

“You act so high and mighty for a man brought down by his brother.” That’s when you step in again, a softer reply cutting sharp through Geta’s voice.

Acacius wonders if a mythical lust driven creature has crawled under his skin. Because witnessing you, in the most luminous crown, sitting unbothered as you stare down the once emperors, you’re truly the goddess he wishes to sink to his knees for.

Geta narrows his eyes, a defiant act of a man raised to rule Rome and never accept any opposition from anyone.

Not even a god.

“You two,” he spits.

“Locked away in this dreary world of death. Neither of you know anything! You do not know the trials and tribulations I have faced! I am Rome! Rome is me! I understand it better than anyone!” He screams now.

Thorny vines sprout out from the marble floors wrapping around Geta and drag him to the floor onto his knees.

Acacius quickly finds your hand outstretched while you stare down at the emperor. Din walks down from his throne, staff in hand, and points it to Geta’s throat.

“You will be wise to remember who you speak to, boy.”

You and Din speak together, one unified front, and the general of Rome thinks never in his life has he ever gotten so aroused so fast in his life.

Geta fidgets against the thorns, defiant even in this forced submission.

The young emperor’s eyes flash to Acacius.

“This is your fault!” He screeches wild and frothing, eyes absolutely feral. “Acacius! I damn you! I damn your soul! You are to blame!”

Guilt, like a bull, barrels into him. Acacius knows these words are just the ragging of a foolish man, but Marcus only thinks of the chaos born because of him.

The countless soldiers he’s lost, the endless villages destroyed by his hand…

There’s blood unwashable and stained into his very hands. Even his final moments of trying to save Rome, to do something other than conquer and destroy…

Marcus brought bedlam.

“You’re nothing compared to that man.” The god of the underworld snarls, breaking through the sinking guilt. It ushers in a wave fondness that cuts through Acacius.

“You were once such a brave, good hearted young man. Cared so deeply for your brother. But corruption has poisoned your heart, Geta.” Your voice is hardened with a wise unflinching observation.

A reminder to him that you’re truly a being born from the stars themselves.

“You lived a decadent life while others suffered. Their suffering is finally here to greet you.” Din announces.

The thorns wither away from Geta and before he can react, two skeletal guards emerge, yanking the young emperor away.

To no one’s shock, he screams raging the entire time refusing to go down without a fight.

“Acacius!” The still screams. “This is your fault! You deserve death! A fate even worse than that! I damn you! Curse your soul!”

Geta’s screeches bounce off the walls, lingering long after he’s vanished.

Acacius feels his vision go hazy, fighting so many emotions that cloud him. Then hands steady him, pulling Marcus from his thoughts.

Both you and King Din surrounded him, concerned and close.

“Are you alright?” The king asks.

Acacius stays quiet.

“That childish fool, don’t listen to him.” You urge.

“Geta is right.” Marcus mutters.

He’s been the source of unspeakable damage, causing countless waves of pain. The lord and lady of the underworld deserve someone more honorable -

“You’re honorable.” You immediately cut him off, determined and unwavering.

Not realizing he spoke those thoughts aloud, embarrassment rises to his cheeks feeling rather young and foolish among these two.

“There was a reason why you were chosen.” The king adds soft. “And we would make that choice again.”

Acacius knows it’s strange but not uncommon to desire two people at once. He knew of a fellow commander who swore he loved both his wife and a fellow soldier equally. It is possible. The heart is a strange weapon after all.

Marcus just never thought his heart would be entangled in such a web.

But when his eyes finally glance to yours, he stills. He adores your eyes, always so expressive with waves of emotion.

That’s when he catches your gaze flicker down to his lips, the most subtle action reawakening a raw hunger in his chest.

He leans in, until truth freezes him solid.

You’re married. You’re a queen and goddess of this land.

He can never…

Immediately Marcus draws his face away, ready to flee from this warmth surrounding him. Until the king shifts to press against him firmer.

“Do you wish to keep your queen waiting?” The king’s voice, even speaking through the helmet, is a low deep purr, sending a chill up Acscius’s spine.

“Din.” You quickly chide, panicked under your breath. “Don’t pressure him. If Acacius doesn’t want this-”

Marcus doesn’t need to hear another word, won’t let his thoughts hold him back. He reacts like a soldier, moving into the battlefield possessed by this goddess, by you.

So he takes and plunders.

Your lips are soft, unbelievably sweet, the true taste of ambrosia Acacius might not ever return back from.

Especially when you whine into his lips as your hands run into his curls.

Acacius drowns in you. But when he returns for air, he realizes there’s another present, another he maybe even longs to kiss, to know his face.

The god of the dead stands close, moves to slide his own hand across Marcus’s cheek and the General closes his eyes when he feels the press of cold metal against his forehead.

It feels as if they floated to the bedchamber.

“Lay her on the bed.” The king commands effortlessly.

Watching the god slink to sit on the plush chair in the room, spreading his legs open wide, is erotic, more than Acacius could have ever expected.

Din commands him, soft but firm, on how to tease and taste you.

Acacius finds having a powerful god, the striking king of this world, take command, affects him greatly. Letting himself go, not having to think or worry, has Marcus rutting his hips into the bed, drunk on both rulers who seem to engulf him.

When you come on his tongue, fingers gripping into his hair, Marcus wonders if this is what the nectar of the gods must taste like, what a blessing this is.

You draw his face up to you, messily kissing and licking into his mouth.

As you start kissing down his neck, Acacius looks over to Din in his chair. The general almost comes seeing the king stroking his cock.

“We shouldn’t neglect our king.” Your breath tickles Marcus’s neck as you whisper and nip at his skin. A blazing heat grows hotter within Acacius.

But then, with one final kiss to his shoulder, your warmth leaves slinking off the plush bed.

Quickly you make work of undressing Din and Acacius again feels as if he’s intruding again even with how painful his cock feels watching you, bare and naked, against the fully armored ruler.

“I can do the rest.” Din replies through a hoarse voice stopping you.

With an understanding nod you return back to Marcus and his eyes watch you drop to your knees, immediately kissing up his thighs.

He’s so close, torn between release and wanting this to last. Until you rise up to his face again, placing the softest kiss to his lips.

“Do you trust us, my general?” You ask softly as his hinds run up and down your soft skin.

“Yes,” Marcus exhales. nodding wanting to hear you call him that for as long as you can.

Someone snaps their fingers. The candle light goes out and Acacius is thrown into a pit of pure desire.

Solid larger and firmer hand grabs at his face clashing their lips into his fiercely.

Din. Acacius is kissing the king.

The lord of the underworld kisses without hesitation, a man unchained. Yet Marcus discovers Din whispers gentle and follows his lead, such a beautiful flip of the once powerful commanding force now chasing after his lips.

An intoxicated sense of power surges in Acacius, a type of possessiveness he feels when conquering a battle. His hands map out the king’s face and he’s glorious.

Marcus has never felt more desired, more wanton, then right now. Being plunged into the dark, relying simply on his instincts, beautifully heightens the passion he’s in.

It’s a clumsy scramble, Din falling onto the mattress and Marcus slotting against him above.

You lick up his back as Marcus grinds his cock against your husband’s. Acacius knows he will not last long. For a man his age, he’s even surprised he’s held off this long.

“Let go for us, Marcus.” You coo, almost begging and he’s groaning out painful and loud.

Din moans, drunk and pleased as his hands grip tight into Marcus’s thighs.

Acacius cums harder than he ever has in his life. His vision goes white, and his body melts into a blur until your warm arms steady him in your embrace.

Marcus even thinks he’s never spilled this much before. Embarrassment clogs his throat as he feels the cum leak across his thighs and even pooling onto Din.

Among the embarrassment, a heavy exhaustion creeps into him. Until Acacius feels the warmth of your body leaving him.

The bed shifts suddenly, and your tongue licks across his cock and Din’s. Feeling your tongue wet and slick on his cock makes his eyes roll back. Both him and Din groan when the slurping sounds fill the room and Acacius realizes you’re trying to consume their seed, lick up as much as you can.

It’s like a storm sent from Jupiter himself galvanizes Acacius. His soul comes alive more than ever and he lets the darkness drenched ecstasy swallow him happily.

-

“You know his time here is limited.” Din mutters.

Acacius protectively rests between you and Din, tangled warm and sound asleep.

The underworld’s gemstones soft glows shimmer into the room, the underworld's own stars embedded in the darkness, illuminating the room. You’re able to soak in the sight of his glorious man alongside your gorgeous husband.

You understand the gravity of Din’s words.

Marcus deserves the peace he seeks, the freedom and rank to go anywhere he pleases. When the general passes on to the fields where souls go to rest, you know he will never be able to return to the palace.

So your mind wanders, trying to accept this time with Acacius simply might be like a shooting star, brilliant and bright but short.

You suppose that’s what makes human souls so precious.

In the warmth of the baths, resting within Acacius’s arms you try to return to the bliss here to keep away the dread.

The chaos within Rome is settling, even Tartarus now burns a soft faint candle. You know what this means. Marcus and his protection might not be needed anymore.

Your general in recent days has stayed rather quiet, closed and reserved. His fingers endlessly and thoughtlessly run up and down your arm resting on the edge of the bath.

“Something bothering you, Marcus?” You ask hesitantly shifting in his arms.

Expecting to turn to look at him, Acacius instead draws his arms around you, firmly securing you into his embrace. He rests his head against your shoulder.

Acacius exhales, sounding as ancient and weary as your husband does at times.

“It feels as if I’m being torn apart.” The general suddenly sighs again into your skin. “Stuck between two worlds.”

A moment passes.

“How do you do it? Decide between two worlds?”

You’re a bit curious at his question, almost don’t understand at once but the truth settles in smoothly.

How can you pick between the world above and below.

“I don’t need to.” You softly tell him, rubbing your hand against his arm.

That’s when the solution arrives.

Marcus does not need to decide either.

When you relay your epiphany to Din, even under the helmet you know he is beaming, you hear it in his words.

“This is why you’re the wisest, my queen.”

You scoff playful but laugh when Din squeezes you into his arms.

The solution you’ve thought of course brings a wave of buoyancy and glimmering hope. But you and Din understand the choice that lies ahead.

Acacius might decide to pass on. It will be hard to let him go but you and Din will of course support that choice.

The bowl in your hand is familiar. The pomegranate seeds glisten in their bright ruby color. They might be a little too on the nose but they were in season, and they’ve become your favorite.

Acacius, ever the aware soldier, understands something is afoot when you and Din arrive to sit with him in the bedchamber.

“As promised, you’ll be paid handsomely for your service.” Din begins.

“Oh.” Acacius’ face falls. Immediately you sense the shift in him.

“We know how much you long for peace, to rest.” You suddenly jump to reach to lay a hand on top of his.

“We simply just want you to know the choice is yours.” Din adds quietly.

Now the handsome scruffed up confused look colors the older distinguished general.

You set the bowl that was on your lap onto the table and lightly push it towards Marcus. His brows furrow harder, more inquisitive.

“Your reward.” Din explains.

To eat from the food of the underworld binds oneself to this realm.

It means he didn’t have to pick. He could travel between the fields and palace whenever he pleases.

“You can visit your loved ones all you’d like, and maybe think of us from time to time.” You grin soft. “Marcus, you deserve to have everything you want.”

His beautiful gem eyes, dark as a precious stone, flicker between you and Din, as if waiting for a trick to follow your words.

No tricks.

Only the reward he deserves.

“I…don’t believe I do. This is too great a treasure.” He shakes his head.

“You have proven yourself.” Din replies steady. “The gods do not bless those who they do not deem worthy.”

With a final look between you and your husband, a brief pause falls over Acacius.

Fear and a gloom filled sadness creep in when Marcus does not make a move for the bowl.

Instead, General Acacius scoops up a handful of pomegranate seeds and devours them.

The ruby red color has never looked so glorious staining his fingertips, never tasted sweeter than on his lips and on your husband’s.

Later when you visit your garden, floating on a beautiful tranquility, red and white roses greet you in full bloomed grandeur.

Among them, new buds sprout…

Beautiful pink rose buds, a soft blush shade, the perfect united bled and reminder of the rosy days to come.

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence and blood. explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking and smoking (weed), descriptive sexual activities.

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you are on: incubation. (part two) a/n:

guys.. i am so drained from this one 😭🙏 but i loved writing every bit of it, so i hope you like it! :) wc is triple from the last chapter (6.2k) :0 was posted on ao3 last night but finally got to doing this today <3 also, this chapter has a bit of a side quest with geto 🤭 also also, let me know if you want mini scenes, like what sukuna thought of your outfit at the party, etc ;)

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part two)

it’s been a week since you hung out at yuuji's swanky apartment and the older itadori was a memory of the past. your stressful college regimen waited for no one, especially you.

lectures piled on you once more and material you had to review flowed like an endless river.

you sat at your tiny desk in the bedroom of your quaint flat, deep in focus on a chapter of biology. “.. and that is how you do the cycle!” you mutter to yourself in small victory. you had finished the last page so you stand up and let out a big stretch. you decide to glance at the time on your watch only to realize you should’ve left your place 10 minutes ago for lunch with your friends.

you mentally curse as you haphazardly gather your things. you toddle on one leg and the other to pull up your socks, and obviously you had to mess up tying your shoes when you were already egregiously late. the universe’s timing never failed! you call an uber to the campus as the subway by your house has long left before.

when you finally find the group, they look at you with confused stares.

“is there a marathon i’m not aware of..?” nobara inquires sarcastically, yet weirdly concerned at the way you were heaving for air.

“haah — what do you, you mean? i’m not.. marathon,” you were making some sort of gestures with your hands and your words barely made sense. good lord, girl.

nobara pulls you down to sit in the chair beside her and motions for megumi to hand over his water bottle. “oookay, that’s enough out of you for now. breathe and drink some water, babe. we already got your food, so don’t sweat.”

as your heart rate began to slow, you finally noticed yuuji was actually laughing at you.

“oh my god, you looked like a little red pufferfish!”

you pout at him and let out a whine of disapproval (at least as much as you could with water in your mouth) when you saw megumi making blowfish faces at you. nobara swats at them and chides them accordingly. “take pity on our poor girl, she ran for us!”

suddenly, nobara snaps her fingers and points at yuuji, as if she just recalled something. “ah! yuu, can you finish what you were saying before we got interrupted? about the frat party this weekend? ” nobara looked positively giddy at the chance of getting wasted and you sighed. who knew you’d acquire such friends being the anti-big-sweaty-parties person you were. yuuji immediately flipped modes and began as he does, animated and hyper. you didn’t know how he possessed so much energy. part of you believed he stole that energy from megumi, who looked like every college student ever. “oh yeah! so sukuna…”

you didn’t realize you were zoned out of the conversation until your eyes catch your biology professor, mina kaito, strut by with a small box in her hand. your professor was notoriously hard to get ahold of— every office hours you tried to bring up your internship application, there was already a line of students following out the office. your university was prestigious and to land a one-on-one with any professor here was a miracle. you knew you were one of the best candidates for professor kaito’s research and had to secure this spot— even if it mean embarrassing yourself just a tad. you immediately jump up. “wha— girl, you just got here?” nobara looked at you, puzzled. “no time to explain- kaito’s here. i’ll be only 5 minutes!” you yell to her as you speedwalk to catch up with the nimble lady.

“professor kaito!” you call after her with a small wave, and the woman whips around with a disinterested air about her face.

“you have 2 minutes, it’s my lunch break.” she quips, resuming her walk down the hall. you take a couple strides to catch up to her and give her a small smile. “so, i wanted to inquire about the molecular biology research you’re doing…”

a small squeal leaves your mouth as soon as you exit the office. kaito had accepted your pitch to intern her research on your subject of interest. this was the biggest thing you could’ve ever imagine landing, and you did it in 15 minutes! (kaito let you speak more as soon as she recognized you meant business.)

you all but skip back to the cafeteria, where your friends still resided. a huge smile plastered your face, you couldn’t contain it any longer. nobara saw you approach the table and she instantly understood what this meant. “you got it? oh my god- she got it!” she jumps up in a flash and squeals with you, hugging and jumping as you were. yuuji gave a little cheer and ruffled your hair, which you were too happy to protest. after a moment of drawing attention to yourselves, you all finally sit down. megumi wasn’t big about gestures, so when he tapped you and gave two thumbs up with a wink to boot — you felt honored to be blessed with such a rarity. you tearfully make a heart sign with your hands to him back.

“there is no way we’re not celebrating,” nobara looks at you with a determined expression. “we’re going to the frat party this weekend, and you can’t say no!” she throws her hands up in glee and bumps you with her hip, both her and yuuji doing a little victory dance in their seats. you almost perk up with your usual response and yuuji instantly shushes you with his finger. “speak not, young padawan. to the party you shall go,” the mock solemnity paired with the swishes of his invisible lightsaber cracked you up. you sigh and throw your hands up. “alright, i’ll go,” you accept with a grin. immediately the cheers and dancing from yuuji and nobara return, and you could bet everyone in the cafeteria wanted you all to shut up or leave.

sukuna didn’t really care for girls. that’s not to be confused with fucking— he definitely fucked girls, but none really made him stop and think about who they were and what they did. truth is, he had a system. due to the fact sukuna had a long list of interactions with girls, he found it fun to compartmentalize. he took in what they wore, how they leaned towards him, the way they primmed themselves raw to appease him in a twisted, faux way. he didn’t want that. see, he had reason to believe all the girls that were interested in him held a vested interest— whether it was his money or his body, all of them came to him with some sort of ulterior motive. the persona they craved was just a fraction of the truth in his existence. ergo, sukuna didn’t really care for girls because they didn’t care for him.

so imagine sukuna’s intrigue when he meets yuuji’s little friend, the one he’s heard of but never saw- unlike the urchin kid and the loud redhead. you were an unknown to him. the outlying variable in the way you stiffened in his presence, almost begging with your eyes to be gone from his stare. you tried to be subtle, he noted this. however, despite your evident body language, your crass words painted a different picture. a self assured, independent girl who found him annoying and wasn’t afraid to tell it to his face. it was a little predatory in the way he savored how he made you agitated. he wasn’t a gentleman, but he would never touch a girl that didn’t want it. that never came to be a problem- most women initiated first touch with him, and then more.

you pushed him aside on first thought.

sukuna let you.

the first touch you initiated with sukuna was to be rid of him. you intrigued sukuna and all you did was go about your day.

he had come down that night to catch a glimpse of you again; he wanted to observe you. sukuna noted a new aspect: your softness. his eyes trailed as you worked quietly to make sure your friends were taken care of, not missing the gentleness you mustered to keep quiet in the process. the angry girl he met three hours ago was long gone. sukuna noticed the red sparkly phone strewn on the rug when you had begun your search, and slinked to pick it up before you could see. granted, his approach was demented— he just had to speak to you more. unfortunately, his desire to tease you rings louder than the one to actually converse and your quick escape meant you were back to a label of the unknown, yuuji’s little friend.

the week flew by for sukuna similarly— as a senior in mechanical engineering his workload wasn’t very light either. he juggled working hours at his grandfather’s auto shop as a mechanic and college as much as he could. he would never admit it out loud, but slipping the extra bills into yuuji’s wallet let him rest a little easier at night. he would count fraternity duties as a part of his responsibilities on paper, but realistically he did nothing in that organization but funnel in family money. it’s what let him keep the arm and body tattoos. he wanted to get some face ones done as well, but he was beaten to a pulp by his grandfather before he could even begin to form the thought. fuck it, he’ll get them when he graduates. who did sukuna have to impress? in the downtime he got, he worked on his bike in the frat garage and rode it for hours in the depth of the night. riding helped his insomnia, something he struggled with since a young age. he’d be damned before he opened that side of memories, so riding it was.

and so sukuna is here a week later, just as you were, sat on the second floor lounge of the cafeteria ironically in perfect view to witness your dramatic entrance. how silly, your face was puffy and red. a cute sight. the ribbons in your braids caught the sunlight from the big window panes.

“kunaaa, you’re not paying attention!” a certain white-haired man made sukuna’s eyes roll. the way he whined was more in the likes of a three year old. “gojo, when did i ever give a fuck about what you have to say?” he deadpans. gojo satoru was definitely a character, and proclaimed himself a best friend to sukuna much to his distaste. “you’re so mean! all i needed to ask was if you got the shit for saturday,” he pouts and cross his arms, slouching in his chair.

“sit up, dumbass, you’re going to get a double chin.” a tall brown haired woman taps gojo on the head with the iced coffee she held, taking a seat beside him. gojo gasps and sits up, immediately going on about how he couldn’t lose his devilishly handsome stature. in tow with her was his more preferred frat brother, geto suguru sporting a cup of his own and another which he hands to sukuna. “you gonna stay around on saturday? me and shoko got a quarter to smoke,” he tells him, sipping on the straw of his coffee. sukuna looks back down to the first floor to you and sanguine eyes catch you running off, ribbons bouncing. this was getting stupid. he needed a good distraction, so fuck it. “yeah, sure. i’ll hit a few.” geto nods in acknowledgment. someone like you wouldn’t go to a sleazy frat party.

“shokooo, will you paint my beer cooler? you’re our little frat sweetheart,” gojo pleads with the woman and sukuna amusingly watches her eye twitch with vague rage. “ask utahime to do it. and call me frat sweetheart again, see what happens,” she smiles darkly. the man chuckles nervously and swats her arm in mock sadness. “getooo, shoko’s threatening my life!” “maybe listen to her, satoru.”

the rest of the week was fairly uneventful, thankfully easy with your new opportunity in tow motivating you to finish off string. the sun crimson, it was 6pm when you hear nobara knock on your apartment door. you open to see her carrying two bag hangers of clothes and her clunky makeup bag, making you pale. “nobs… what’s this?” you ask, slightly frightened. she simply throws a sly smile and enters your apartment, unpacking everything. “oh nothing, just a super sexy outfit and the tools to make you even more of a bombshell,” she dismissively states. you groan internally. you were a fool to think nobara’s antics stopped at you accepting to attend.

3 hours fly by and you were completely dolled up, alongside nobara. your hair was adorned with a classic ribbon, which you plead to keep. nobara only allowed it because it matched the outfit she had you wear, which you didn’t feel awkward in. she knew how to optimize your current style to be more bold.

during the time the makeover occurred, megumi had drove up with yuuji and were waiting in your tiny living room, probably playing your wii mario kart. nobara texts maki a picture of you and she immediately hit her with a reply.

“sexy fox!!!”

when you step out of the bathroom, yuuji let out a slow whistle. “you are looking like one hot mama!” megumi immediately wrinkles his nose. “please never say that again..” he turns to you and gives a small nod. good enough for you. you giggle and pinch yuuji’s cheek. “i appreciate it regardless, yuu.” you thank him with a hug. “but! let’s go before nobara decides to change her eyeshadow again,” you whisper to the two boys and they nod courtly; they were well versed and knew the horrors.

megumi pulls up to the side of the street and puts his lexus in park. you and nobara walk out of the back, and immediately the chilly air hits you. damn this outfit for being so thin.

your eyes fall on the big building and instantly the color drains from your face. the big greek letters on the wall of the portico were none other than sukuna’s fraternity. how did you miss this? why didn’t it come in conversation that the party would be here ? you try racking your memory when it dawns. you had zoned out when yuuji started explaining the details of the party. there wasn’t much you could do, you were already here and your friends were excited to let loose. you just had to make sure you didn’t run into him.. hopefully.

nobara comes around behind you and links an arm with you and pulls you out of your thoughts and drags you faster in pace. “c’mon girl, time’s a-wasting!” yuuji and megumi walk close behind you. yeah, it’ll be fine! you had them. as soon as you went inside, the smell of beer and sweat hit your nose. loud beats pumped through the walls that you had heard faintly from the outside, but didn’t compare to the volume inside. you felt a little weird yet confident when you turned a few heads, some guys eyeing you down with smiles. nobara caught wind and wiggled her eyebrows at you suggestively, which you scoffed at. you could barely hear nobara tell you she had spotted maki and was making her way to meet her— you only understood when you saw maki wave at you. yuuji and megumi motion they’re going to get drinks and be right back, which ironically left you alone.

you walk towards the area where the music wasn’t as loud, which was the back of the house. stepping closer, you behold big glass sliding doors and recognize it’s the back porch, in view of a color-lighted pool. before you can compute the people at the porch, sanguine eyes meet yours and your heart stops. sukuna was leaned on a porch chair, a thin blunt rest between his lips. he looked.. different. i mean, you only saw him in a tank and shorts, but this was like witnessing a new side of him. the only constant was the silver chain on his neck.

you couldn’t discern what kind of look he was giving you, but it was making your skin flame and the previously thin-seeming outfit now felt suffocating and hot on your body. something about his gaze felt like a violation of your privacy. without looking away from you, he exhales, mouth and nose, handing the blunt to a tall brown haired woman in an all black tiny dress. she seemed out of place with the seemingly thug-like frat men around her, sukuna included.

you back away from the glass panes and decide to find yuuji and megumi to escape this weird tension you just found yourself in. you spot a tall man with a black haired up-down smiled at you warmly and you nod kindly in response. he walks to you and leans down to your ear to speak. “are you yuuji’s friend?” you nod. thankfully, the new song was relatively more quiet and you could a hear lot better. “i’m suguru, by the way,” he says with a small smile. you give him yours. “pretty name for a pretty girl,” he drawls. “you like red?” his hand flicks the ribbon in your hair. you roll your eyes. “it matched the outfit,” you defend lightly. he gasps mockingly. “wow, i just noticed! red top, red bag, how cute! little red riding hood, you are,” he teases. “i bet your phone case is red too.” you shake your head and deny over-dramatically. “cmon, let’s see it!” he prods playfully. you sigh and show him the sparkly red phone in defeat. “you caught me. i’m secretly a red fiend. the second carmen sandiego, even.” he laughs heartily and tilts his head at you, pausing for a moment. “you looked a little lost, y’know. that’s not safe at a frat party,” he chuckles. “i was just looking for the drinks. do you know where they are?” he nods and puts a hand on your arm to spin you in the direction to it. “it’s the kitchen, just down this way and on your left. just weave the crowd,” he advises. you scan and see a light from a different room in the direction, which could mean the kitchen suguru meant. you look up and grin kindly. “thanks, suguru.” “don’t mention it, pretty girl.” he seemed like a cool person.. even a little hot, you had to admit.

you begin weaving people, trying not to bump into someone or step in mystery liquid but these boots were starting to be harder to get a grip in. a girl dancing pushes you slightly and you lose your balance a little, causing you to lose footing. before you know it, you stumble into a guy and you hear him drop his drink.

“what the— HEY! watch where you’re going, b-“

the blue haired man turns around and sees your doe eyed face and goes a little stupid.

you were already apologizing profusely. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, someone bumped into me, i can-“ “no worries, doll. you’re getting all riled up over nothin’,”

his smile felt sleazy and his eyes rake over your body violently.

“do i know you? you from a soror?” you didn’t like this exchange any longer and wanted to leave, now.

“actually, my friends are waiting for me, so i’ll just-“

“aw, what’s the rush, baby? you don’t wanna get to know me?”

his hand quickly snakes around your waist and you feel him grope you and you push him off of you and yell.

“what the fuck!” a hand pulls the man back and you were relieved to see it was megumi. “if you look at her again, i’ll fucking kill you.” he states coldly. the blue haired man scoffs and throws his hands up in surrender.

“it’s not that deep, man, she was just talking to me,” “yeah yeah, save it asshole. let’s go,” megumi wraps a protective arm around you and weaves you to the kitchen quickly.

he looks at you with a face of worry. “i’m so sorry we took long, yuuji ended up doing beer pong and he’s super wasted. did he do anything to you?” you wave your hands and shake your head, trying not to burden your friend. “he just grabbed me, but i pushed him off, i’m okay! i swear.” he eyes you, concerned. you did tend to downplay your own well-being and health, even to your detriment. before he could say anything else, you hear a drunk yuuji hoot loudly. “loooook gumi, i gots a ‘nother beeeeeer!” megumi immediately groans and goes to yank the drink out of his hand. yuuji somehow sees you in his drunken haze. “ohhhhh, look who it isssss! prettiest hot mama, my best frienddddd!” he makes grabby hands for you, but before you can reach him, he passes out and almost hits his head on the marble counter— fortunately megumi’s reflexes catches it before it happens. “i swear, yuuji knows he’s a lightweight but drinks like it’s juice,” he grimaces. you look at yuuji and sigh. so much for a party animal.

suddenly, you start hearing screams and yelling from the living room area. an image of nobara flashes before your mind and you immediately follow the sounds to make sure she wasn’t in danger— only to find the man who just sexually assaulted you getting pounded into the ground by sukuna. no one was able to break the violent trace he was in, the punches hitting constantly one after the other. the sound was so visceral you gasp, swearing you heard a crunch.

you see suguru push through the crowd and pull sukuna off of the man, whispering something angrily into sukuna’s ear. sukuna reluctantly stops. so suguru knows sukuna..?

an angry looking man with green hair is cursing at sukuna. “fuck off, man! we’re brotherhood, is this how you’re gonna treat us?” a woman with braided blue hair drops to the man and screams. “mahito, oh my godddd! are you okay baby!”

“get off me, bitch! ugh- you crazy motherfucker! that whore isn’t even yours, why’d you care?”

the blue haired man yells at sukuna, clutching his bloodied nose. you couldn’t even tell if the blood was from his face or his nose. sukuna almost lunges back onto him hearing what he said but a white haired man with sunglasses also intervened like suguru and pulls him back.

you didn’t realize your hand flew to your mouth in pure fear. they were all frat brothers here, and something about it all made your head spin. you wanted out, now. the stuffy heat of the house was making you dizzy.

you refuse to make eye contact with sukuna and you instead set out to find nobara. you scan all the rooms and end up finding them in the garage of the frat house. like yuuji, nobara was also trashed beyond belief and draped over her girlfriend, babbling and giggling. maki looks at you with a small apologetic smile. “i think i’m just gonna take her home, if that’s okay.” you nod and smile faintly. “i have to get this one in the car, too,” you hear over your shoulder. megumi is walking down with a passed out yuuji slumped on him in a piggyback position. all your friends were preoccupied with taking care of the drunk ones, you couldn’t bother them with taking you home too. that would be rude of you, right? you hated the thought of being a burden to the people you cared about, especially when they have more things to deal with. it’s fine anyways, you had a solution. “megs, i’ll just call an uber, ‘kay?” his face drops in a frown and he objects. “no! i can take you too, don’t worry. i just need to keep yuuji at bay, so—“

“i’ll take her.”

you trace a gruff voice above you and discern sukuna is standing directly behind you, completely unfazed with what he just committed mere moments ago. the audacity of this man! “i’d rather die than have you take me home,” you spat angrily. he sighs like explaining this to you was a inconvenience to him. “it’s a 3am uber or me. your choice.”

a drunk yuuji stirs and he starts squirming and nearly makes megumi topple over. maki looks at the entirety of you and narrows her eyes. “darling, go with sukuna. i’ll make sure you get home safe, okay?” she tells you softly. her eyes flick over to sukuna and her gaze hardens. “if even a hair on her pretty head is missing, i’ll hunt you down myself.” sukuna holds up two fingers and whistles. “scout’s honor, ma’am.” she nods curtly, picking up her messy girlfriend. she looks at you for a moment more. “text me when you’re home, okay? love you.” you assent, mirroring her bye. megumi frowns a little but gives sukuna a similar tight stare, a more silent exchange between the two occurring. he says his byes to you as well.

the unperturbed man gives you a wry smile, like the ones you’ve given him in prior. “shall we leave then?” you scoff and cross your arms over your chest. this was starting to feel like a mistake and you should’ve just taken your chances with the late night uber.

sukuna leads you further into the garage, behind all the expensive jeeps and roll royces. “what kind of car do you drive, exactly?..” you mutter quietly. sukuna heard anyways and exults a chuckle. “not really a car, i think.”

he comes to a stop at a sleek black motorcycle, which you look at in shock and awe. your jaw drops.

“hell no. absolutely the fuck not.”

“i can still call the uber then…?”

“just hand me the fucking helmet bitch.”

he cracks open the seat to pull out another helmet and hands it to you. you snap it on carefully, not trying to catch your hair or your ribbon. you look at the vehicle and the thoughts start rolling. this was literally a death machine. he wanted you to ride this speed demon that he controls. this was beyond insanity, you never do things like this! but.. what else could you do?

sukuna had already strapped himself in the helmet, hopping onto the bike. he holds out a hand palm up to you. “are you gonna get on, or you gonna keep the fish out of water miming going?” he deadpans. you begrudgingly throw a leg over, letting him help you on behind him. he turns a key and the engine roars to life, the growl of the vehicle echoing in the open garage.

you think back to the moment you and sukuna locked eyes prior and remembered he was smoking weed. “are you sure you’re sober? you smoked a blunt earlier,” your voice was a little high strung, but sukuna just laughs. he looks over his shoulder at you, smirking. “if you think 2 hits on a blunt is enough to get me faded, you’re an idiot.” you smack his back. “stop calling me that!” he simply laughs at you, as always, and starts rolling the bike out of the garage.

“all you need to do is keep your feet in, press your thighs together, and wrap your arms around my waist.”

“wait, what? run that last one back?”

“do you wanna fly off and eat concrete?”

“…no.”

“then do it.”

your hands slowly circle his hard waist and awkwardly hover, weirdly shy about touching him like this.

“woman, if you don’t put your arms around me normally, i will make you.”

you try to argue that this was a perfectly acceptable middle ground but before you can finish, his rough hand yanks your arms to his stomach like it was nothing. you yelp and your helmet bangs into his back at the sheer force. your face flames at the fact your palms were in direct contact with his rock-hard abs, which felt absolutely unreal.

“you could’ve been nicer about that.”

“nothing nice about safety.”

without a warning, he accelerates the bike and you’re off, enlisting another yelp from you. your arms tightened around him, which he grins to himself about. the first few minutes of riding go by with you koala gripped on his waist, not even daring to move your head from the moment he had started. sukuna looks at you in his rear view mirror with a sly grin. “you know nothing will happen if you relax your head, right?” he yells over the wind resistance blowing around the bike. you clearly didn’t even notice that you were so stiff and straighten, looking at him with a displeased frown. “yeah i know, you didn’t have to tell me,” you rebut.

he shakes his head at you and the road looks to merge on the bridge. now open to the sky without the tall building blocking it, you are immediately entranced by how the water shimmers with the moonlight, and the stars were extremely visible tonight. your eyes light up with the simple joy you found in this, just admiring nature. unbeknownst to you, sukuna snuck glances of you in this state and almost wished he could take a picture and capture this for himself later.

faster than you anticipated, sukuna was pulling into the street with your apartment. he came to a slow in front of your building and turned on the ignition, hopping off to help you get down.

you notice his bloody knuckles and let out a little gasp. you’re telling me he was just driving like this, cut up and all? what is this guy on? you can’t leave him like this, he drove you all the way out here.. ugh, damn my guilty conscience! let me be evil for once!

“what?” sukuna gives you a dubious look.

“you’re bleeding,” you deadpan.

he looks at his hands, flipping them over. he seems surprised something was even there. it gave the impression sukuna’s been in brutal fights like that routinely.

“aw what, this? it’ll be fine.”he replied with a shrug. you narrow your eyes at him.

“i’m cleaning those and bandaging you. i don’t want your ass blaming me for tetanus or something.” you throw at him.

sukuna looked down at you and chuckled, and you almost think you saw a genuine smile. you couldn’t tell for sure because it disappeared as soon as it came, replaced with the same annoying smirk he carried.

“alright, then. lead the way, sweetheart.”

your heart is pounding as you walk up the open metal stairway, gigantic tattooed man in tow. how you got here is still unresolved logic in your mind but you’re too tired to fight it. keys jiggle to unlock the small apartment, which felt even more smaller when sukuna stepped inside. it was like a bull in a china shop.

“um.. you can hang your jacket and helmet, if you want,” you point to the small funky coat rack nestled in the corner of the entryway. he nods awkwardly and removes them, along with his shoes. “i’ll be right back, im just getting the medical kit.”

you quickly run into your bathroom and open your mirror cabinet, fishing for rubbing alcohol and some bandaids. to your horror, the only bandaids you had were pink and hello kitty-themed. you imagined the big scary man with pinked up knuckles and giggle. serves him right, you thought.

you walk back in to see sukuna staring at a picture on your mantle of you, yuuji, nobara and megumi. you clear your throat and gesture for him to sit on the couch. he obeys accordingly, nonverbal. you kneel in front of him and you see sukuna look away from you in the corner of your eye. you pull his hands forward and begin dabbing the cuts, and he winces. you give him a questioning smile.

“what, i thought you had a high pain tolerance?”

“high pain tolerance doesn’t include this rubbing alcohol masochism.”

you let out a giggle at the dry joke before you can think to stop.

“what, you find my suffering funny? i punched that douche for you and this is what i get in return..” he grumbled, eyebrows furrowing.

you didn’t really connect the dots in the moment that sukuna was in fact, beating up the guy that sleazed on you. you felt.. something. you didn’t want to give any other name to it besides gratitude.

“ah.. thank you. genuinely.”

his eyes lower to meet your sincere ones and the ice on his resolve melts further. “it.. it was nothing. assholes deserve to get their shit rocked. and mahito’s been asking for an ass-whooping for a hot minute,” he rants. his openness catches you by surprise, but you let him speak away as you clean and bandage him up.

“—and every time they ask, i tell the boys to start listening to cues with women, but the stupid motherfuckers just don’t get it. uh— is there.. is there somethin’ on my face?”

sukuna’s monologue abruptly comes to a halt when he watches you observe him closely. your doe eyes were pooling into his, and he felt like you were perceiving his soul.

“your eyes are sanguine red. did you know that?”

your voice was barely above a whisper, the apartment silent. the same moonlight spilled into your living room and on you and god, he swore you were angelic. his eyes lowered down at your lips, his head moving close—

your phone’s ringtone makes the both of you jump backwards and you scramble to look at the caller id. “father”. you take a deep breath and gesture sukuna to stay quiet. he nods and looks away, trying to resemble some form of privacy for you. you pick up.

“dad, it’s super later at night, is everything okay?” a gruff raspy voice crackles back. “you did not update me or your mother about your new opportunity. i was going to give you until sunday to bring it up yourself, but i grew impatient with your laziness.”

your heart sinks a little. even with the knowledge that you scored a near-impossible internship.. your father had other things to say to you. “choujo. you need to be proactive in everything you do. if you cannot handle sharing important information, how can you even do a simple job! i don’t understand what they teach you at that university.. just a waste, seriously. do better.”

the line cuts before you could say anything back. the apartment fills with a more pained silence this time. you don’t want to look at sukuna, you already felt like disappearing into thin air, the gloom making tears well in your eyes.

“…don’t listen to him.”

you look up to soak the tears back in a little before you meet his gaze timidly.

“what do you mean?”

sukuna takes a moment to really look at you before he sighs, pushing off of his knees to walk towards the coat rack.

“you work hard? that’s all that matters. don’t listen to the noise assholes wanna make,” he states firmly, unhooking his leather jacket and biker helmet.

you frown at his use of words towards your father, whom you still respected despite his harsh treatment of you. “ah.. thanks, sukuna.”

he puts the jacket on in one swift gesture, giving you a slow grin. “nah. it’s just common sense, something an idiot like you wouldn’t know.”

your jaw ticks and you immediately start pushing him out the door. “aaaand that’s enough of you for tonight! good riddance,” you snap in annoyance, feeling him shake with the snickers he was suppressing. you give him a dry smile and slam the door in his face.

sukuna stands at the door for a moment, making sure he hears you walk away.

“goodnight, sweetheart.”

a soft bid to you, the sound in the night air washing away with the clunks of his shoes on metal steps.

the man reaches in his pockets to fish out his keys and is met with a paper-like material. pulling it out, he recognizes the design to be the same as the bandaids adorning his hands now. a sticky note attached with neat handwriting read,

“for my phone. asshole”

sukuna smiles to himself, shaking his head. you were extremely hotheaded, that was a given — but the fact you held kindness in a small gesture and chose to downplay it made him wonder what it would be like to actually be admired by you.

definitely more pink bandaids.

but he knew better than to poke around his little brother’s friend.. or so he convinced himself he believed. he quickly tucks them back into his pocket, starting his motorcycle to ride back home with only one thing on his mind… you.

next chapter might take a while because i rushed this one out, but don’t fret! i won’t leave it for more than a couple days :)

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[alavestineneas]

Heaven

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader summary: Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing. warning: canon-typical violence, blood&cheese, hurt little comfort, loss of limbs, implied/referenced cheating, drinking, court, RELIGIOUS GUILT, sex lol word count: 8.2k

author's notes: hi lovely people! today, i present you my new creation - an Aegon fic! yay! PLEASE note that: a)YN has children in this imagine and they are important to the story. If you don't feel comfortable reading all that - do not engage with this fic. b) The Blood&Cheese does happen in this univese, so be mindful!

If all is good, am I so excited to have you here - please don't shy away from sharing your opinion, either good or bad, in the comments. Love you!

He was not used to hearing no.

It is a simple truth: of all of the words in the world, one of the most common ones escaped his mind completely, going over his head and never leaving an impact strong enough to attach meaning to it. Since he was a babe in the golden cradle, lavishing in the rich purples of the crown, the Realm opened in front of him, smiling and cooing in his regal plump face. The best teachers, toys, and golden coins were thrown his way—the firstborn son, the long-awaited boy of House Targaryen. Soon, the endless teachers changed into endless rivers of the best wines, and wooden horses grew pairs of tits big enough to bury the temper he had grown to hold. Only gold in his pockets as he turned to yet another brothel door never changed its shape—money travelled from his hands into cups, dresses, and undergarments silently, the countless replicas of his father’s profile sparkling with the judgement of yet another of his poor choices.

Sometimes Aegon wondered what would be the breaking point for his righteous Lady Mother—when would her head finally turn to look him in the eye and mutter a swift ‘’no’’ instead of lowering her gaze and pursing her lips together at his new whim? He foolishly thought it would be the wine. Nevertheless, each time Alicent found him covered in his own dinner, dragged to the castle by some unfortunate knight, she raged and cried, but never forbade him from drinking again. Yet, the more he ate, the more he wanted.

He thought his heart a hole—the darkest, most blackest place of his soul, rotten from the day his violet eyes opened and took in the world around them. Like a tooth, white as snow upon its birth, growing spoiled from the sweet nectars the Realm had to offer. The small spot, not bigger than a needle's ear, appears first, going unnoticed. Then, it fattens and spreads its disease through the mouth until there are no teeth to chew with, leaving only a gaping void where once there was a smile. Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing.

In the name of traditions he had no reason to engage in, the only place where he had hoped to be something or become something—his chambers—were occupied by the stark reminder of his worthlessness. Heleana, his sister, his wife—the almost always silent figure, a shadow of their childhood. It pained him to watch her close her eyes every time he entered the chambers to install the needed heir into his sister's womb. Aegon remembers her as a girl, often strange but never unkind—the image he forced himself to forget every time she undressed in front of him . The violet eyes they both shared, the silver braids covering her girlish figure—everything about House Targaryen made him ache with guilt and shame. He could not stand to look at the similar braids on his own shoulders, so he cut them off in a drunken rage, burning them in the flames of the fire. Oh, how he wished he could burn himself there instead.

None of his whores had any trace of Old Valyria. None of his whores had a trace of her, either. The one his famished, bloodied heart set the pinnacle of his desire. He could have any woman in the world, from the slaves to the highborn maidens, begging for him to spare one glance, one night, one favour from the night-made king. But it was her, the secret so shameful that even his spoiled mind could not admit it. Aegon studies the patterns in the ceiling, his body almost in pain from the aching feeling in his abdomen. The water around him moves, caressing his skin like a lover's touch. It's burning, he notes, despite being nearly wintry.

''Does your brother know you are here?''

He almost does not recognise his voice as he speaks, the words barely a whisper in the echoing chamber. It's low and darkened, leaving his mouth with a tingle of bitterness. The question comes out twisted, ridicule thrown into another naked body in his bath—it earns only a low chuckle from the woman in front of him.

''Yes, my king, I believe he does.'' Lady YN looked more entertained than embarrassed; all of the pleasantries the etiquette demanded they follow were out of the question anyway. The water hid most of her body, leaving only the head and neck for display. She was bare, the ends of her hair steaming down the ends of a bath as she lounged comfortably, completely at ease. ''The twins often share a piece of soul, my king. You must have known from your own children."

Aegon hms, his eyes leaving their place and setting on the woman instead. Coloured with wetness, her hair stuck to her forehead in the heat of the bath , starting small streams of water down her face. Striking, almost glistening eyes stared back at him. Something unreadable lay there, something not meant for him to see. Her body is one of the woman, not a girl; the marks of not one but two babes nurtured by her womb and breasts are simple in their beauty; this, Aegon thinks, ought to be the image of Mother on the walls of Sept. Lady YN, a widow to some highborn Lord he wished not to know the name of, and mother to his two children. Lady YN, a twin sister to Ser Leon Estermont. Lady YN, the mistress of the king.

''Are you just going to stare?'' The woman chuckled softly, bringing Aegon out of his reverie. "Or are you going to fuck me?''

Aegon barked a short laugh, adjusting himself to hold the weight of the woman climbing on top of him, his arms catching her hips with ease. ''Holy Seven! Where have you learned such profanities, woman? Not fuck,'' he playfully scolded, trapping her lips in a teasing kiss. ''making love, that is,'' he mumbled against her jaw.

Aegon moved slower than usual, taking his time to savour each moment. Something was enchanting in the way droplets of sparkling water clung to her skin, glistening like diamonds in the sunlight—it was as if the water itself had moulded her, leaving an indelible mark on her very being. Even now, with his headlight from wine and limbs burning for a rest, the hunger pools in his stomach, demanding more of her. YN's voice is sickening; it wraps around Aegon's dried throat and lands on his chest like a weighty stone. The hushed moans, mixed with whispers, send shivers down his spine as he rocks into her body, caught in the intoxicating web she weaves with her words. It almost pained him to pull away from her, knowing that he would never be able to resist her siren call for long.

''What are you doing?'' YN asks, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, as she places her hands on his chest, the pace of her hips never faltering.

Aegon struggles to find the words to respond, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of sensations she evokes within him. He can only manage a breathless, ''There is something I want to give you,'' before succumbing once again to her spellbinding presence. It's not an inquiry; the words leave Aegon's mouth without much thought behind them . His hand blindly travels to the small table somewhere behind his back, knocking down two goblets and a burned candle in his haste. ''Here,'' he says, pushing the cascade of hair aside to place a small golden pendant on her neck. "Oh, Gods,'' he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the pendant as it rests against her skin. "Had it made for you.''

He tried to focus on the pendant, but the sight of breasts moving before him was too much to bear. The pace she set, undeniably to torment him further, was excruciating. A few more moments, and he might finish right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her or put an end to this torturous game. Aegon closed his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations that consumed him.

''Please, don't stop," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat. Aegon wanted to cease existing, to turn around, and to never be seen here again. Instead, he just sat in the small bath, a little too small for two people, feeling redness creep up his neck onto his cheeks. To his surprise, the heat pooling inside of him only grew as his courage slipped away with each moment. A completely pleasurable sensation took over him, spreading heat between his legs and causing his breath to quicken. Aegon's hips instinctively arched forward, craving more of her touch. The waves around him mixed with the ones of pleasure as he came, the hands roaming his body, leaving him feeling more alive than ever before.

Numb, he watched the water swirl around the YN's breasts and knees as she reached her high a few moments later, a smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him. She rinsed her body, washing away the sweat and salt, before stepping out of the water with a satisfied sigh. Aegon followed her body with hungry eyes as she stepped out of the bath and reached out for the cloth to dry herself. First, her hair, then her neck and arms; she meticulously dried every inch of her body before slipping into a blue gown, one of her hands catching and bringing to light his gift. A sun-shaped gold pendant dangled from her fingers, glinting in the fire. She traced the intricate design with her thumb, a fond smile on her face as she remembered the moment he had given it to her.

Aegon's eyes softened as he watched her. ''I intend to have you join me for the early meal on the morrow. ''

''I would be pleased to, my king.'' She pauses, a sly smile playing on her lips. ''May the night be kind to you.''

He chuckled, his own smile mirroring hers. ''And may your dreams be filled with nothing but joy.''

With a gentle nod, she excused herself from his presence, the gold pendant still clasped in her hand. Aegon sighed, not bothering to sit straight, leaning on the bath walls instead. He prayed to Seven for even a chance to close his lids this sombre night; his usual sleep was turned into a nightmare and a fever dream at once—the one that left him covered in sweat and desperate for sweet oblivion. No matter how much he pleaded, the laughing eyes of Lady YN wouldn't leave her alone. He would lay in bed until sunrise, staring into the faintly pink sky, until dawn came and the cycle of never-ending torment began again.

There were a lot of sinners in all the corners of the world; they kept on with their small affairs, akin to flies, wasting each of their numbered days on the things that carried no meaning in the great map of history. Slaves of foreign lands, smallfolk of fields and seas, servants scurrying in the shadows of their masters or draped with precious cloth figures of noblemen—life and later death—showed no interest in their whereabouts. Their existence was fleeting; their legacy was forgotten with the passing of the seasons.

YN grew tired of never-changing identities quickly; the same faces of mediocrity surrounded her, stealing the much-needed fresh air with the talk of trivial matters. Noon and night mixed in one globe in her throat, tasting of nothing but bitterness—the same flute, feast, and court affairs sun after sun. The small girl near her screeches and laughs, her little hands occupied with the dolls, as she attempts to flee from the grasp of her older brother. They seemed to be in their own world, running down one of the stone halls of the Red Keep with a speed the best stallions of the kingdoms could only dream of.

''You are cheating! I saw it; you did!''

Peter was her firstborn, a boy who is now nearing the age of a man—two and ten summers have passed since she first heard his cry echo in the cold halls of the family castle. Slender, even sickly skinny—as her late lord husband declared upon his birth, he fell sick often—she has spent countless nights near his cradle, wishing to see the day he becomes a healthy, strong young lad. To the delight of everybody, and YN as well , her prayers did not go unanswered. Peter was now skilled with a blade, his fragile figure resulting in swifter, much softer moves that left his teacher's prowess a remarkable honour of knighthood.

''I am not! I'm just faster than you!''

A smile spreads across YN's face as she looks at the little girl in her yellow dress, who now hides behind a collum. Meg was a keen, healthy babe of four summers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that mirrored YN's own. Other than that, she looked nothing like her—all her father, the Lord husband, lost to illness. What a blessing it was to look at her daughter's face and see him. What a curse.

''Please, be civil. Remember, no hitting, no biting, and absolutely no spitting are worthy of a knight or a lady."

No talking, either, if she could convince them to listen for longer than two minutes. Having her children play with the royal heirs was Aegon’s idea; like that, she had more time on her hands, and twins could enjoy the company of someone closer to ''normal'' folk, as he had worded it. It was not something she could refuse, although she wished nothing more than to do so. The royals were a serious matter; one wrong word and your head ornates the castle walls instead of the golden banners. She did not doubt her children; they were kind-hearted, lovely people, but the notable ‘incidents’ of house Targaryen kept her awake at night, wishing her children would be brought to her with all their eyes and limbs. Leon, her brother, assured her nothing would happen— it was he who took her children to and from the Queen's chambers. He told her of great opportunities for his niece and nephew that came with being closer to the court, but it did not ease YN’s mind fully. All of her family, in one way or another, entertained the royal and noble house of the dragons—the fate most minor houses considered a blessing. Most, but not all.

Before the death of her husband and long before either of her children came into this globe, it was just two of them in their small little world—the twins of House Estermont, the heirs to the misfortunes of the Greenstone's lush greenery and endless tides of sea. She would've stayed there, on a small island enveloped by mountains and castle walls. It was Leon who wanted to make something of himself, with dreams as high as the seagulls up in the sapphire sky above their childhood bedchambers. There was not thought more ridiculous than her dear brother in the walls of the capital , and yet he left the Estermont as soon as the banners were called for young swords in the court of then-prince Aegon. Then she married, and the rest was drowned in the endless nights of tears. Sometimes, only when no one was around, YN wondered if she could've stayed forever there, in her home, without having to see the world that was often so cruel—had her brother not left her so early; had he been the lord instead of their father when she came of age?

''Mother, are you going?''

The loud voice has startled YN out of her thoughts. She smiled at her son, adjusting the skirts of her gown before nodding. ''Yes, my sweet. Let us come in; we do not want to keep the Queen waiting, do we now?''

The Queen. YN has heard many rumours in court concerning the sanity of young Queen Helaena, her preference for silence, and modest foods, but she has never seen her closer than a few yards. Standing before the large wooden door to her chambers seemed foolish—had she been any other woman, perhaps she had nothing to fear—to present her children to the royal maids and escape to the comfort of the halls once more. But she was no ordinary woman—she was a mistress to the King the Queen called brother, the one whose bed he warmed instead of hers. YN cursed her brother in her head for having ''a business'' to attend to today, of all days; even though he assured her of Queen's kind heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she pushed the door.

The chambers were quiet, with only the slow crackling of wood in the chimney disturbing the peace. ''My Queen, I have brought the children as you requested,'' YN announced, her voice echoing in the vast rooms. She waited for a response, but none came—only the flickering shadows dancing on the walls.

On the small cushion before the fireplace, a figure dressed in regal robes sat with her eyes on the embroidery hoop in her hands. YN takes her time studying the woman as her own children join the pair of royal heirs on the woven carpet. She sits straight, her face somewhere else. The queen has beautiful hair, YN notes to herself ; her silver locks escaped the carefully laid braids, landing right onto her cool, fair face. The woman is younger than her, perhaps by a few summers. The maids around her worked almost in silence—only sometimes it dared to be broken with a small polite exchange concerning the seams or the ornaments on their wooden hoops. There was a distance between her and them—a distance that YN could sense even from where she stood. Despite the quiet camaraderie of the ladies, the queen remained in her own world, a world that YN couldn't quite grasp.

''Lady YN,'' the Queen finally said, never moving her eyes from the dark fabric. ''Would you like to see what I have done so far?''

Something familiar sparkled inside YN's mind like an old tune long forgotten. There was a certain childish quality to her words, reminding her of the way her daughter spoke—something about the innocence and vulnerability that still lingered beneath the regal facade. The Queen spoke to her like they had been great friends like she had seen her before—perhaps in a dream or in another lifetime.

''Of course, Your Majesty.''

She moved closer, careful not to step on the countless toys and pillows scattered around on the floor. Someone, Jaehaerys or Jaehaera, whom she could not tell, squeaked and ran past her, chased by her own daughter, almost knocking YN over in their game. The Queen smiled warmly at the chaos, her eyes sparkling with amusement at them as YN sat before her on the padded chair, intended for legs. She turned the hoop of her embroidery , her delicate fingers working quickly and skillfully.

''I did it for him. A golden dragon, you see? I do not like green; it does not suit him,'' she half-whispered, her almost translucent violet eyes studying each expression on YN's face but never lingering too long.

Him. YN nods, her heart aching with understanding. She knows. Suddenly, the world feels like it is burning—or, perhaps, it is just the growing fire—and an acquainted feeling of guilt and shame travels to her throat. She swallows hard, trying to drown the discomfort in her saliva—a whore, a liar, a thief. Here, in the presence of something so fleeting, so beautiful, and so delicate, she feels the weight of her sins pressing down on her chest, threatening to consume her whole.

The colourful eyes of the Queen seemed to understand her thoughts; she smiled. ''You have a beautiful necklace.''

YN's involuntary hand reaches for the necklace hanging around her neck, feeling the weight of it in her palm. The gold sun sits there proudly, having escaped the comfort of her dress in a moment she has missed. It feels like a cruel joke and, if she will, a reminder of the audacity she possessed to steal from a queen. She felt bare for the first time in years, like a child caught by his mother in some small affair. ''Thank you, your Grace," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames.

''He likes you, my brother. He has a very strange way of showing it; you are the first person he's allowed to get this close to. The first to keep for so long, too.'' Queen Helaena pauses, her eyes softening slightly as she looks at the children before her. "They love having someone to play, you know? Always waiting for a new friend to join them in their games.'' As the firelight dances across her face, Queen Helaena's smile is bittersweet. "I am afraid I do not know what to do with them. ''

YN nods in understanding, her head turning to watch the flock of laughing children too. ''I was thirteen when I had my first. From the moment he left my womb, he screamed and cried, never finding solace in my arms. I was his mother, the person who was supposed to provide comfort, yet I could just cry with him. I did not feel the mystical tenderness the ladies told me about—I felt lost. Hollow. I thought I was missing some piece of myself that would make me love him the way I was supposed to. But he grew, and I did with him—then I realised that I had a lot of people to care for me, but he only had me. There is no ''right'' love—only the love we are capable of giving , and that was enough for him.''

The woman kept quiet, her eyes moving on the stone floor. YN wondered if her silence was a hint of disapproval or if she was simply lost in her thoughts once again. After a moment, Queen Heleana finally spoke, her voice lingering through the chambers. "Would you like to join us in the garden on the morrow? It would be a great change of scenery."

YN smiled. The relief washed over her—it didn't feel real. The same eyes, hair, and face she saw hundreds of times are once again in front of her, only changing slightly to more feminine features. The Queen does look like her brother-husband, and now YN can't help but feel a sense of comfort in her appearance. ''I would be honoured to, Your Majesty."

The days changed each other quickly; her children grew, and the court lived, growing and changing before her eyes. There was something in the air; she could feel it—an alter after Prince Aemond brought news of the passing of a Valaryon bastard. YN remembers the night—the king has drunk himself half-dead, pacing and muttering about war—the weight of the crown seemed heavier on his head that night. She knows he wishes she did not hear it, laughing at all of her worried questions on the next eve. Still, the war worried her; it brought the worst upon its coming—famine, illness, and terror. She did not fear death—the Stranger was a familiar presence in her life—but the thought of her children suffering haunted her dreams.

YN looks at the girl in her wooden bed, sleeping as peacefully as a child should. Peter sits near, on the stool beside her, his eyes shining with excitement more than fear as he listens to the reading—no matter how smart her son is, he is still too young to fully grasp the doom that warfare will bring to their doorstep; for him, the tales of glorious battles are still alive and true. As YN finishes yet another story about the conquest of three dragon warriors, the comforting silence settles in their bedchamber. Soon, the sun will fully hide behind the darkened clouds of the horizon, and the night will cast its shadows over the land.

''Are you the king's mistress?'' Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The words that leave his lips are not his own. YN's heart shrinks at the sound of them—the whispering faces of the court's gossip swirling in her mind.

There it was—the question she hoped would resolve itself on its own but knew would come anyhow. It's hard, YN realises, to admit such a simple truth to the pair of wide-open eyes looking up at her as she closes the book. Did she not tell it herself after each time she spent the night in the king's chambers? '' I and King Aegon are,'' she takes a breath in. What were they? Lovers? Such a foolish, shameful thought. ''dear friends. We converse and dine together, and he takes great pleasure in hearing me play.''

She does not want to lie to her sweet boy; she knows he is perceptive and will see through any falsehood. But the weight is heavy; she will not let it crush his still boyish shoulders. Deep down, YN fears the day her son will realise the truth. Will he still wish to know her name then? He looks like a small sparrow bird, YN thinks to herself, in his brown vest and ruffled collar of the shirt —so small yet so curious. He tilts his head just like the finch would as if trying to grasp her words and find something between them. ''Do you love him?''

A sigh escapes her lips before she can think of a better answer. ''Well, let's see,'' she pauses. ''I love you, and I love little Meg, and I love your uncle Leon. I also love our beautiful rooms, my dresses, and the nice pies we get to have for supper. And all of that we have because King Aegon is good and just and values our house as one of his loyal subjects. So, in a way, yes, I do love him for that.''

Lies. Disgraceful, unworthy of a lady, a mother she is. Does she truly feel nothing when his lips caress every inch of her very being, his hands touching her soul akin to a ghost? Does she not wish the warmth of his body never had to part from her heart, staying on her neck instead, trapped in the warm, gold sun on her skin? Did she not offer him what was left of her time and time again ? Did she not think of him all the time? Was she not terrified of loving him, and did she not love him?

''I do not want you to marry him.'' Peter is determined. His hands grow fists, the slight childish jealousy painting his face. He could not know, and yet he felt it; he was her son, her blood, after all.

''Then I shall not. I will be here, helping you as you grow into a strong, handsome Lord, and then I will eat only cake and wear pretty dresses for the rest of my days. You will protect me and your sister, just like your father did before he passed, and I will be your scorny lady-mother for the time being . ''

She would. YN wished he would see it, but he was still too young, too naive, to understand the sacrifices she dedicates for him and his sister only, the chains she traps in her heart every day just for them to have a happier life. The sacrifices he did not ask for, YN reminds herself . Sacrifices she chose willingly.

Peter nods, his eyes changing back into childish, sparkling innocence, leaving the stone-cold stare and anger hanging only in his mother's memory. "That sounds perfect, my lady-mother," he says with a grin. "I will protect you and my sister with all my might, just like my father did."

''Good,'' YN smiles, planting a kiss on her son's forehead. "Your father would be proud of the man you are becoming.''

He would not, but Peter does not need to know it. Maybe he will grow up to be nothing like him, and maybe the gods will be kind enough to let her see it.

The Queen's chambers are loud as the night approaches; children, royal or not, never seemed to tyre and instead wished to play all into the night. Even the tireless maid, exhausted of their incessant energy, now quietly sat in the corner, undoubtedly anxious not to be discovered for at least a handful of moments. Tragically for her, YN did not possess this kind of power; her head seemed to soon crack into a few pieces from the noise and shuffles, her limbs burning for rest and quiet. She was tired of reading; the book, long forgotten, was shyly lying at the edge of the wooden table, covered in rich gold ornaments.

''Do you feel unwell?'' The soft voice of Queen Helaena is heard nearby. The fair face turns into a concerned expression—the Targaryen queen had always been perceptive .

YN shakes her head in a weak attempt to wave any worries away. ''Just a little tired from the long day,'' she murmurs, forcing a small smile.

''Perhaps you should rest. I will send a maid to draw you a bath and prepare your chambers for the night.'' The woman's graceful hand reaches out to gently touch YN's shoulder. ''The children can stay; they will be in good hands with the nursemaid, and then they shall return to your chambers in the morning.''

YN feels something creep in her stomach but shakes it off. Perhaps she should not have eaten that pie after all. ''Thank you, your grace,'' she says, mustering a grateful smile. She stands up to leave, feeling the weight of the day's events finally catch up to her before the Queen's voice is heard again.

''The cooter, a mother to three kings,'' she mumbles, her words causing YN to pause and turn back.

''Your grace?" It was not the first time The Queen lost herself in her thoughts; sometimes, she would whisper nonsense as they conversed—it was worrying, sure, but YN had learned to ignore it. Queen Helaena was a sweet, kind woman, but her mind was often clouded by the burdens of her crown. YN wished that one day the Queen would find peace and clarity in her own thoughts; she prayed for it, too.

''The cooter,'' the Queen gazed in her direction, directing attention to the embroidery on YN's dress.

''Yes, it is a cooter; it is a sigil of my house, your Grace, house Estermont.'' YN smiled gently, hoping to distract the Queen from her confusion. The woman's eyes lit up with recognition as she nodded in understanding, and YN breathed a sigh of relief. She can now rest.

It was not long before the screams in her dreams startled her awake—the dark, obsidian night in the window chilling her feet as she quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. Although the screams never seethed; they became louder, more concerned voices of people in the halls outside her room, calling out curses and cries. YN quickly climbed out of the warm bed and rushed to the door, the cobble floors cooling beneath her bare feet as she opened it to see what was happening.

People running in and out of the long halls—maids and knights, even some noblemen in their sleepwear—seemed not to notice the strange figure of a woman in her nightgown standing in the doorway. ''What has happened?'' she asked the maid nearby before recoiling - the dirty sheets in her hands were coloured crimson.

The boy is dead, a voice told her . The boy in the royal chambers.

''Let me through,'' she demanded, pushing past the maid and rushing towards the rooms of Queen Helaena. The rooms she left her children in. She did not care; if the murderer was still in those walls, she would strangle him herself; her children, young, innocent children she left in the care of their nurse, were still there. Were still alive in her head.

The walk from her chambers to the royal ones wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The door to the chambers is wide open; splashes of blood lead inside, pooling before the opening, resembling a twisted, sick lake of horror. ''Meg? Peter?'' No response came, only eerie silence. Panic began to rise in her chest as she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in her ears. The screaming rings in her ears suddenly; she does not recognise her own voice as it echoes off the stone walls.

Small, lifeless limbs stare at her almost in accusation, the redness of his open neck wound stark against the pale skin —the body of young Prince Jaehaerys lays in his cradle like it often would, lacking only the silver crown of his head. The room was a scene of unfathomable horror, with blood splattered across the walls and the once innocent nursery now a monstrous sight. The scent of death surrounded her like a bloodied blanket, choking the breath in her throat and sending her head spinning.

She did not feel the male hands clutching her shoulders, pulling her away. The blue and green cloth under her feet quickly moved, the voice of her brother whispering something in her deaf shocked ears.

''Leon, children, my children,'' she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as tears streamed down her face. The realisation of what had happened in that room hit her right in the stomach, leaving a wretched kno of guts and despair. She tries to fight back, to shout over the chaos, or to push him away; she always does. It makes him just angrier, and harsher, and he tightens the grip, pushing her right into the open door of what appears to be his chambers.

''Everyone stays in their rooms until stated otherwise by the king's orders,'' he hisses, finally letting go of her.

The action is so sudden that she falls forward, hitting her nose as she slides down the stone wall. There's blood everywhere; it's mixed with tears, soaking into her hair and dripping down from her dress. Her brothers's plan worked; YN had no energy to shout anymore. Her anger is now swallowing down her dried throat. She opens and closes it like a fish out of the sea, trying to get air into her lungs—all that is left for her to watch as the wooden door snaps against its frame and the lock clicks, chaining her to the cold, dark room.

YN does not know how much time has passed or if it has passed at all ; the dark, obsidian night sky is now coloured in pinks, oranges, and purples, resembling her usual gowns more than the bright blue of the day. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze; she does not care for it. The only sound in her mind is a constant prayer, although, in her previous life, not many could accuse her of being devout. Now, YN finds herself clinging to any semblance of hope, no matter how faint, no matter where it comes from.

It's all her fault, she thinks. It is as clear as a day—the sins on her shoulders were so heavy that even Gods could not bear them anymore. She should've stayed there, in the northern castle of her lord husband, weeping over his grave like any proper widow would. Instead, she has indulged in a life of sin with violet eyes and silver locks, finding solace in the arms of another man. She let her body decide, choosing a life of bodily pleasure over honour and duty. The husband, no matter how hard it was for her to love him, was the only man who had a right to touch her soul. Touch her at all.

The door opened with a loud bang, revealing her lord husband in all his might. He was wearing those weird clothes again—something torn and dirty. It looked like he robbed some beggars near the castle before coming in, and he smelled the same.

''Come on!'' he exclaims, opening his arms as if for a hug. ''Don't be shy; we are married, remember?''

There is not much she can say; the easiest way out is to let him do what he wants. So, YN bites her cheek when his sloppy kisses travel down her neck and keeps her mouth shut when he takes off her nightgown. It's awful, almost humiliating, to hear his breath quicken. To feel him inside. She smiles when it's finally over, and he plants the last, tired kiss on her head before getting under the covers. She knows better than to disturb her husband's sleep; instead, she cries silently, mindful of staining his pillow with tears.

YN's knees are aching even through the fabric of her gown, but it does not matter. Through pain, she could feel her remorse. Feel like she was being punished for her own desires. Feel like she was clean again.

A soft knocking is heard, and YN has to snap out of her trance, gathering the tears building in her eyes with a cloth. It's a servant, one of the many she sees running down the halls this morning. ''You are awaited before the Council, milady.''

''Thank you,'' YN replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She will see to the punishment the gods have chosen for her, no matter how harsh it is. Her only wish is for her children, who are innocent in all of this, to be spared from any consequences of her actions. She straightens her posture and nods. ''Let us go then.''

The loud arguing in the rooms of Small Council seemed to fade as she appeared in the doorway, all eyes turning to her as she entered. The sun was already up, she noticed, as the soft streaks of warmth hit the room through the open windows, casting a golden hue over the polished table where the council members sat. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. YN looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, rushing around a castle that seemed to freeze at the news of a child's passing.

''Mother,'' the loud cry of her son's voice echoed, snapping YN back to reality. He came running to her, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red from crying, his hands clutching her waist as he buried his face in her stomach. YN stood there, wrapping her arms around him tightly, feeling the empty space where his right hand should have been. ''I am so sorry; I tried to save him, but the knife, they did; they cut it off, Mother, '' he sobbed.

YN's heart shattered into a million pieces as she held her son close. Her darling, brave boy lost a part of himself, but he was alive. Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all. Here, in her arms. ''It is okay; all is well; you did so well. Where is your sister?''

''She is safe; I hid her in the closet. She was so scared,'' he whispered, his voice trembling.

''Your daughter is with maids now, Lady YN.'' The voice of Sir Criston Cole echoed through the room.

YN's eyes quickly found the green dress she put on her daughter herself; she sat on the hip of some scared maid, silent. She thanked the gods; she thanked anyone and everyone, in the sky or beneath the ground, who had decided to let her children live. Occupied with her thoughts, YN does not hear the questions flying at her right away; yet, the male voice of the swordsman still cuts through the cloudiness of her mind, reaching her ears.

''We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened that night. Can you tell us why you were not in the Queen's chambers with your children?''

There is something seething inside her as her son wails and clutches her waist with his now one hand and her daughter's frozen eyes as she stares through her mother. YN stood there, before the able knights of the castle, in nothing but her nightgown, covered in her son's blood and her own tears, feeling the weight of their accusatory gazes upon her. The gods forgave her and proved her innocent, but the whispers of suspicion still lingered in the air, staining her with their accusations. Anger—that was what boiled inside her—a fiery rage that threatened to consume her from within. ''What are you implying?''

''It is suspicious, don't you think, Lady YN, for you to be the only one absent when the tragedy occurred?''

YN laughed. It did not sound like a laugh of joy but rather a bitter, cynical sound that echoed through the great hall. Perhaps that was the mark of nerves she has wasted today, perhaps the showing of her despair—the maddening, heavy feeling of despair clawing at her insides. The child was dead; others were harmed—the cold, the almost translucent figure of the young prince covered in unfathomable amounts of his own blood lingered in her mind. "How dare you, the Head of the King's Guard, be the one telling me of doubts when it was my son, my blood, that protected Prince Jaehaerys? Tell me, Ser Criston, where were you when my boy lost his hand defending the royal family?''

Ser Criston's expression darkened at the accusation; his jaw clenched tightly. "I was carrying out my duty elsewhere, as I always have," he replied evenly, his gaze wavering in the face of her anger. ''And for those who question my loyalty, there is a place in the dungeons reserved for traitors and cowards. Guards, seize Lady YN and bring her to the cells for questioning immediately."

As his words echoed through the hall, the even louder cries of her son were drowned out by the commotion as the guards moved to apprehend her. Although she feels nothing now, the contrast of cold poisoning her body where the boiling anger was just a moment before terrifying and overwhelming. YN felt numb and drained of any emotion as her son hugged her closer, despite the best efforts of the man around them. There will be bruises, she thought in a haze. When did he get so strong?

''Leave her be.'' A voice boomed from the back of the room.

King Aegon sat there on the designated stool, adorned with heads of dragons. Now, he did not look regal; he seemed sick, his violet eyes bloodshot and silver locks hanging limply around his face. The sea-sick green coloured his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. Just for a second, their eyes met, a silent understanding slipping between them. There was something wrong with him. There was something wrong with him that was also wrong with her.

''Thank you, my king,'' she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man's expression softened slightly, with a flicker of recognition in his eyes, before he turned away, dismissing the guards. They were free to go; she was free to go, with her alive and well children, who still could scream and cry. He will stay; he had to stay with his now-forever boy.

The water hit the pier with gentle splashes, and the droplets of salt jumped on the stone legs of the dock before rejoining the vast sea. The warm shadows of the setting sun coloured the liquids in pricey gemstones: sapphire and rubies, quarts, and turquoise glistened before her eyes. There was something magical in the way the light danced, ethereal and airy, as it circled the pier—no one disturbed the peace of the tranquil sea; nobody knew the secrets it had stored since its birth.

The water was warm enough—just a little more, and the beach would embrace many swimmers in its warm hug. But, for now, she only watched as the waves gently lapped against her feet, the soothing rhythm of the sea reminding her she was still here, in her body. YN closes her eyes. It would be an easy fix— to just jump , to let the water envelop her completely, to become one with the sea. No one would know how she went, not until the same waves returned her body to the shore somewhere far from this castle. Or would the water leave her for itself, storing the secrets of her death deep beneath the sand as her soul left this world behind? YN had no chance of knowing, but the thought of disappearing into the ocean's embrace was strangely comforting. Just her and the place she called home.

The sound of crashing waves enveloped her head; the wind was getting stronger, ruffling the hem of her ivory gown as she sat at the edge of the cliff, the last rays of sun hitting her face like a gentle caress. The salty air inside her lungs reminded her of Estermont . The small island, isolated and insignificant on the grand map. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her remains would be buried there, under some nameless mountain range, with only a small stone marker to indicate her existence.

There are slow, almost silent steps approaching her from behind; she does not turn around. If it was death, whoever the Stranger took the form of, it was welcome here. With her children asleep in her brother's chambers, a dozen guards watching over them, she was at peace. The gush of wind through her hair felt like a final embrace, reeking of salt and blood. What an unusual scent—almost like the sea at low tide mixed with the metallic tang of iron. Almost too real to be just in her head.

''I killed him,'' the hoarse voice announced behind her, the black cloak brushing against her arm. The cloak she knew belonged elsewhere. She turned slowly, her hand plating itself on the warm deck, feeling the small stones beneath her fingers.

The light illuminated his face; the usually calm violet eyes now clouded with a darkness she had never seen before. The golden dragon head sitting at his chest glinted beneath the rays just as the waves did a moment before, the still-hot blood dripping from his hands onto the wooden planks. Strangely, the black fabric now was almost green from the crimson stains—Helaena was right. It did not suit him.

''I smashed his skull open with a single blow,'' he said, his voice chillingly calm. ''I felt nothing as he lay there, dying at my feet. I thought it would feel good to finally have revenge . It didn't.''

The sunset painted over the walls of Red Keep, the oranges and reds of dying stars reflecting in the short hair of the man in front of her. He looked like he was burning, set on fire right where the crown should have been, burning down his neck and slumping shoulders. His castle, his kingdom, was all slowly on fire, despite the cool evening breeze that swept from the sea behind her. She can't get him to leave, she realises. The flames fluttered around him, everywhere except his eyes—it was his home, and it combusted. YN still had time to jump into the safety of the water, drown her sorrows, and escape the unavoidable ruin that awaited them both. The saltiness from the waves travelled onto her cheeks, the shallow streams hitting her lips. She can't leave without him.

''Sit with me,'' she muttered, reaching out her hand towards him. It was empty of any rings or jewellery; it was bare, like a virgin sheet on a freshly made bed. She was free—free from the weight of ties and obligations that had bound her for so long. Just her, without anything that would remind her of the past.

''I will stain your hand with blood,'' Aegon mused, his eyes dark with the weight of his own burdens. I will stain you with my sins, he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat.

''Stain them. I do not care.''

So the veined hand reached out, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. She did not realise how cold she was until he enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth seeping into her bones. She felt clean for the first time in years, despite the stains on her dress, as the man collapsed in her embrace, his tears mixing with her own. ''Do you think we can ever truly be free from our sins?'' she whispered, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

The man's embrace tightened, his voice steady despite the tremble in his breath as he replied. ''This love was never a sin; it could not be. Not when I love you with all that I am."

Aegon looks back at her, and it is not a tragedy.

This is the closest to heaven they will ever be.

[bedupolker]

PLAYLIST. @viv13drainbow I think if you like that song in particular you'd also really enjoy Summer Salt, Little Joy, and Babe Rainbow for chill beach-y rock (not included). Commentary below:

The Blue Album - The album to start all albums, the album that launched weezer to success. Many hail this as their best album (I love this album but respectfully disagree) but nonetheless it's an essential for weezer fans and alt rock fans as a whole. Plenty of people who know way more about music than I do have praised blue album at length, and it's a funny meme nowadays too. Of course say it ain't so is an all-time classic, a heart-wrenching look into Rivers's relationship with alcoholism and his parental figures. I dunno if anything on the blue album can be called a proper deep cut, but only in dreams is an overlooked gem, and probably my favorite outro in their whole discography. Hopeful but somber, that slow buildup a the end to the guitar solo. Suzanne is a nice B-side.

Pinkerton - the infamous Pinkerton. Their sophomore album. Their breakdown album. Although weezer's not exactly an emo band, this album is often credited to being influential to the genre as a whole. No two people have the same experience with love or breakups, and one of the beautiful things about art is that we can see an experience through anothers' eyes, but I don't think I can think of a more painfully relatable album than this one. The balancing act of portraying its sympathetically-unsympathetic protagonist as equal parts pathetic and lonely while also entitled and aggressive. Some of the vocals are so raw for a second you see the monster in the five foot six, nerdy, physically disabled, lead singer that he sees himself as. Hard for me to pick a favorite standalone song off this one; the good life is a funky jam that wouldn't be out of place next to wheatus or RCHP's tracks, but that's where all the funk ends. Why bother? is a driving, catchy song that starts to show the cracks of his depression, falling for you is full of emotion, and if you get your hands on the deluxe edition, tragic girl.

Green album - At its time of release, Pinkerton was not received well. Creating such a raw, personal piece of art is hard. It's like the artistic version of getting crazy drunk, pouring your heart out, feeling catharsis for a moment, then realizing you'll have to deal with it all the next day. A lot of people interpret island in the sun as a happy song, but to me it's the tylenol after that night of drinking, a lie to tell yourself just to get through the day. It has a peaceful rhythm and brings to mind a tropical paradise, but there's something undeniably melancholy beneath the sunshine and smiles. You've tried to face your pain and you barely escaped alive, maybe you're better off just ignoring it. (That being said, although the damage has been done, Pinkerton has later been reevaluated and is now as widely praised as the Blue Album amongst music critics, and Rivers himself has made peace with that phase in his life.)

Maladroit - Overall this album is rather overlooked. It leans a bit more heavily into the rock aspect compared to green album, yet the lyrics remain impersonal and goofy. It's still not a bad album, though doesn't reach the heights of the first two. The singles, Dope Nose & Keep Fishing are both solid, but Burndt Jamb is my personal favorite. A little beach-y, probably their Stroke-y est song, (the band, not the medical emergency), it's been a mainstay on several of my chill out playlists for years now.

Make Believe - Probably one of their most hated albums by fans. It has the infamously shallow and poppy beverly hills, but you know what? I'm a Make Believe Defender. I truly think it could've been a great album, maybe even on par with Pinkerton. Not because of the album itself, but the demos. Haunt you Everyday is solid on the final product but rips at my heartstrings in this demo, ditto for tell me what you did (different name on the final product), everybody wants a chance to be alone (I said burndt jamb was their strokiest song but I think it might actually be this one) purple flowers (lyrics are a little rough but the melody, the meloncholy... so good) Actually on that note, weezer has, like, multiple album's worth of unreleased content that's miles better than anything on a published album (Link for one of my favorite fan compilations). Yes, the lyrics sound like something I wrote in my diary after a breakup, but that makes them all the more real. A deep dive into weezer will reveal the terrifying truth we've all been blind to: weezer never got bad.

Red Album - Mixed feelings on this one. It was produced by Rick Rubin, industry titan and famous for bringing bands "back from the dead," he's produced more than one of my all time favorite albums. Red is not one of them unfortunately. It has its fans though. Pork and Beans is fun.

Raditude, Hurley, Death to False Metal - Skipping these bc I don't care abt them

Everything will be alright in the end - To fans, this was their first "good" album since Maladroit, maybe since Pinkerton (12 years prior!) depending on who you ask. Although it wasn't as commercially successful as some others, it's a very strong album. Really, what is it about rock bands forgetting they're rock bands then suddenly returning to releasing rock music and magically being good again?? I'm looking @ you too, fall out boy. I have a hard time picking a really standout song- it's one of those albums that's evenly good throughout, no skips, but no obvious standouts either. Da Vinci is fun.

White Album - A fantastic album. You can hear some pretty heavy beach boys influence in this one. Unlike EWBAITE it has a few skips for me, but the highs are very high. Speaking of high. Do you wanna get high has to be my favorite off this one, Endless Bummer could be a sequel to island in the sun, Summer Elaine and Drunk Dori is just good clean weezy fun.

Pacific Daydream - I'm a Pacific Daydream defender. Check out QB blitz. Weekend Woman is flawed, but fun too, the bridge really makes it for me. Very evocative of Good Vibrations by the beach boys.

Teal Album - Oh god a cover album. No Scrubs is probably the only one really worth checking out if nothing else to hear a geeky white guy say "A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly" like he's reading it out of a dictionary. (TLC, who wrote and performed the original song, allegedly got a kick out of it)

Black Album & Van Weezer - I don't care about these either. Damnit I thought we were gonna be good again!

Ok Human - A good album!! What a relief. Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be to name yourself as a homage such a groundbreaking radiohead album and have it be.... bad??? I particularly love this one because in some ways it feels like it's his most personal album since Pinkerton- only instead of being an honest dialogue from a horribly lonely and isolated 20 year old student, it's a much more well adjusted, happily married, 50 year old father who is subject to both optimism and ennui. And it rocks! In a soft, subdued way. The songs flow into each other so nicely, the first three in the album debatably are my favorite 3-song-run in their discog. Aloo Gobi and Grapes of Wrath especially. The transition from dark and somber Dead Roses to light and upbeat Here Comes the Rain never gets old to me. This album (alongside MGMT's little dark age and The Stroke's The New Abnormal) was also like my essential Coronavirus holy trinity.

Spring/Summer/Fall/Winter - This is a compilation of 4 EP's, one of each released during their respective seasons in 2022. I think it's solid all around, with Summer being the strongest. Records and Blue Like Jazz are both very catchy, Thank you and Goodnight... just wait for the outro, trust me.

[secretress]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞

Your future lover message to you.

YouTube | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

18+ readings | Divider

Pile 1:

My patience for you

my dearest, please take care of your needs and heal your inner child. I cannot see you go forth without you caring for yourself.. please, if you cannot for yourself, at least for me.. take care of yourself.. because I love you too dearly for you to waste your time doing nothing that shall help you in the near future.. and I cannot let you do that; I want to see you—I want to kiss you and whisper sweet nothing into your ears after we make love.. I want to see you smile every time I say something silly, in reality those stories are real, but I make it stupid just to see you smile.. so please for me and to see each other quicker, please take care of yourself.

I shall be waiting for you,

Your prince charming –

Pile 2:

Proud of you baby

HI I HOPE YOURE DOING ALRIGHT, IMAGINE ME YELLING IN EXCITEMENT, HEHE.

SOOO YOU GOT A PROMOTION, THAT’S AWESOME! CONGRATS BABE, I AM SO PROUD OF YOU AND I HOPE YOU WORK HARDER TO ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS AND KICK ASS OF THOSE SEXIST MEN IN THE STEM MAJOR. ALSO ILL KICK THEIR ASS TOO.

UMM, I THINK MY MESSAGE TO YOU IS TO MAKE SURE YOU EAT PROPERLY BECAUSE I KNOW YOU STAY UP ALL NIGHT, PULLING AN ALL NIGHTER TO GET YOUR ASSIGNMENTS DONE BUT FOOD IS ESSENTIAL AND HYDRATION. SO YEAH GET THAT FIXED SO MAYBE YOU CAN—DURING YOUR BREAKS EAT SOMETHING PLEASE AND PLEASE SLEEP BETTER FOR ME.

THANKS SO MUCH AND ILYVM XOXOXOOXXOOXXOOXOXOXOXOX

Pile 3:

I won’t give up on you

I can see you changing your life and I see that you met someone you don’t trust.. and that’s okay, I know you struggle with trust issues, but please know—that’s me. Its okay not to trust me now, and please don’t until you feel comfortable enough to open yourself up to me. I know youre an introverted person and that’s okay. Ill be the boat you will sail on and find that treasure on your map. I will be your rock when you play .. rock, paper, scissors.. ill be your armor when youre sobbing and ill be the one saving you when you start drowning in your trust issues once more.. and I’ll fight for you when you try to push me away again.

So go ahead and try but you cannot get rid of me because we are meant to be and that’s final.

Pile 4:

You’re the reason why I became so romantic

When the moon shines onto the river, we see a beautiful reflection shining, letting the people see the beauty and that is what I see within you, my love.. youre one dashing love and I cannot get enough of you especially during love making, but this isn’t a love letter I suppose.. this is my message to you and you shall receive it after I say what I love about you.

Youre one beautiful lover, the way you smile at me as I write and do my homework, waiting for me to be finished so we can cuddle and watch your favorite, us both laughing as it gets to the funny scene and then both saying we wont watch that same Disney movie once more, but we do. An endless loop of laughter.

From those to when we take a shower together but there is never any thoughts of doing the deed, only thinking of making sure the other is okay and properly cleaned, your innocence is the most beautiful as this world is truly a mess, but I shall never ever take advantage of your pureness as it floats my heart anew when I think of you and wishing I could give you flowers for all of eternity.. that is the love we shall cherished as this is what our love shall be.

So my message to you my dearest is, please keep being the most beautiful that you are and keep your pureness as it is the most beautiful of them all. As you are the most tantalizing flower one can pick and cherish, let it grow and feed it with water and sunlight as you watch it grow into the magic you wished you had seen the first time you lay your eyes on.. and that is you. you are my flowers and you are the magic within that I truly didn’t know I deserved or needed, so thank you my dearest and thank you for accepting me for who I am.

- Your dearest.