#you can see why these take me so long perhaps

[luveline]

Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙

thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k

“Can you take my socks off for me?”  

Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice. 

“Not gonna last long tonight?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin. 

He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed. 

“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down. 

He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner. 

Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks. 

You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.

“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.” 

He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.” 

“No… miss you too much…” 

“I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Don’t promise if you can’t.” 

He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you more.” 

You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting. 

He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth. 

“Are you happy?” 

“Never so much in my life.” 

“You love me?” 

He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.” 

“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?” 

“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.” 

You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip. 

He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.

You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

Stirring, you mumble nothing. 

He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.” 

“Aaron?” 

You turn his name into a shapeless doting. 

“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sleeping.” 

“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”

Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…” 

He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.” 

“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...” 

He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like. 

Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.

Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow. 

“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point. 

“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.” 

—

In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.

“Aaron…?” you ask. 

“What, honey?” he asked. 

“I… did I…” 

He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again. 

He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.” 

It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?” 

“You might’ve mentioned it.” 

“And you’re… okay with it?” 

He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses. 

That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask. 

He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss. 

[ego13]

LET ME IN YOUR OCEAN – YU JIMIN

now playing : chase atlantic - swim

SYNOPSIS : your mafia girl loves it too much when you bring her lunch to work (in fact, she doesn’t mind fucking you on her desk either.)

warnings : mafia!jimin, lesbian sex, service top!jimin, praise kink, hickeys, fingering sex in public places, pet names (princess, good girl, kitty).

pairing : yu jimin x fem!reader

you? oh, her favourite baby-girl, damn, jimin loves her girl too much, she loves to pamper you incredibly, because if this comes up in conversation, then yu does not hesitate to spend several million a day on her princess. expensive prada dresses, diamond necklaces and rings are what you literally swim in, bouquets of flowers, romantic dinners and then night walks in a black porsche with jimin - your daily routine, her hand on your thigh as you both silently drive through Seoul at night listening to your favorite playlist, during such moments it always seemed to you that there were only you two left in the world, and no one else

and if her girl wants it, jimin will buy the whole world for her, as long as it’s really just the two of you.

when you first saw her in the casino, you would never have thought that a cold-blooded member of the mafia could be such a gentle romantic, whose words always made your knees weak. one of the nicest things was that she was so close to you, she didn’t allow anyone to see her as tender except her princess, because you were the only one who truly deserved it. and the only downside of all this was the fact that she was often busy, although in a very interesting way she always made up for her guilt to you. a romantic dinner, another necklace and wonderful sex right against the wall in the hallway of your mansion is probably the best way for her to made it up.

waking up after another such evening, you realized that jimin was not next to him in bed, which made you slightly upset, after all, your desire to wake up in her arms, spending the whole morning sleepily hugging, alas, was cut short. you stretched, rubbing your eyes sleepily, reaching over to the bedside table and taking your phone off the charger, having unblocked it, the first thing you did was go into chat with yu, realizing that she didn’t even write about where and why it would be so early in the morning.

you : jiminnie? no good mornings? :(

you : i hope that you really have something important, because depriving me of morning hugs and breakfast in bed is a crime

just as you were about to get out of bed, several notifications came to your phone, and seeing the messages from yu, your face broke into a sleepy smile.

jim💘 : so sorry, princess, had to leave early, important meeting.

jim💘 : you know that i love you, princess?

jim💘 : i would never leave my precious girl without cuddles and kisses without reason.

jim💘 : i’ll be home in the evening, afterwards, expensive champagne and a delicious dinner, perhaps even a continuation in the bedroom, or in the kitchen, if I can’t restrain myself. i love u.

after reading the messages, you were mentally preparing for the upcoming evening, fuck, she knew exactly all your weak points, and knew where to hit so that you wouldn’t get angry. getting out of bed, you stretched again along the way, going into the kitchen, wanting to drink a glass of water, you noticed that you forgot to take lunch with you, which you carefully make every evening. a small pink lunchbox with hello kitty and a small love note is what jimin put in her black leather bag, and it made her heart beat faster every time.

you were a little upset, but you could put up with it, considering how flighty jimin can be sometimes, so you once again got excited about the idea of ​​going to her office to give lunch for her forgetful girlfriend. quickly getting dressed, you called the personal driver whom yu hired with the words 'my princess will not walk several kilometers on the asphalt every time with her beautiful legs so give me the most skilled driver'. the road was quite fast, and upon entering the large building, one of the bodyguards let you inside with a warm smile, personally escorting you to jimin's office.

knocking on the door several times, you opened it, seeing how she carefully rummages through documents in her damn sexy glasses, the way she looked made you turn into a waterfall every time you saw her. finally looking up from the papers, she smiled brightly, seeing her beloved girl.

"princess," getting up from the table, she took off her glasses and put them aside, she came closer to you, seeing a pink lunch box in your hands, "damn, I'm too forgetful and forgot my girl's lunch..." she awkwardly scratched the back of her head, taking it from your hands, placing it on the table, returning her gaze to you as her hands found their way to your hips, "you didn't have to drive halfway across town to see me, sweetheart, but I really fucking appreciate it, kitty..."

her lips carefully approached hers as your noses touched each other, finally pulling you into a slow and loving kiss, deepening the kiss, yu buried her head in the hair at the back of her head with one hand, and touched tour waist with the other hand. you hummed right into the kiss as she picked you up, moving her hands to her hips, and sat her on the table, settling between your legs. having stopped tormenting your lips, she lowered herself to your neck, while her free hand lifted your skirt, getting under your underwear, jimin began to slowly stimulate your clit, making circular movements, carefully watching your expression, searching for any hint of discomfort, “good girl... already so wet for me?"

your body kept shaking, and the thighs tried to close, but yu was standing between them, and did not allow this to happen. your hands fell on her shoulders, you pulled her closer, so close that ypu pressed herself against her, resting your head on her shoulder, her free hand nuzzled your thigh until her fingers finally slid inside you, causing you to let out a loud whine that was like honey to her ears, "just like that, you're doing so well, kitty, it feels like you were created for me to be inside you..."

yu's lips kissed your skin from your neck down, reaching the collarbones and leaving several purple marks there, again fell to her beloved neck, without ceasing to work with her fingers and feeling how your body began to tremble.

she felt with her fingers how the walls tightened around her fingers, enveloping and sucking, and in the next second a languid cry flew from your lips, which made her instinctively squeeze your waist tighter, not allowing you to fall off the table, on the contrary, helping you sit more comfortably, kissing your neck soothingly, enjoying the sight of the purple marks on your milky skin, "everything is fine, princess, my good girl..."

finally moving away from your neck, her hand combed the fallen strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling, she liked seeing you like this too much, all excited, trembling from orgasm, while your hair stuck to your forehead and barely visible drops of sweat flowed from your temple.

"you know, after such a “lunch”, I’m no longer as hungry as before your arrival, you can come to me more often, I’ll be all for it."

[ronwestbreeze]

NONBELIEVER | viktor

summary: you would think two zaunites would come together and change the world. but perhaps fate had other plans for the two...

word count: 5.7k

warning: no use of y/n, angst and ambiguous endings???

author's note: so act 3 really messed me up lol but enjoy some angsty viktor because why not? the gif is from this set!!

ACT I: MOB

Like Viktor, you lived and breathed the Undercity just not in the same way.

Your face used to be what artists would paint, even for a revolutionary.

But now it was stained with blood of your own. Beaten out of you mercilessly until cool shackles were clamped onto your hands and steel bars shielded you from the world. You have been in prison for some time now. Months, maybe a year? These days you’ve lost count. The only way you could tell how much time had passed was the growth of your hair. That was the price of being a revolutionary. That was the price of taking risks no one else would. Now you tasted blood and smelled old pipes. That was life in Stillwater Hold.

How you got here was the same story as any other inmate. You had planned to destroy a part of Piltover to make a point. To show that the people of the Undercity would not rest or become the ants under their boots. Most of your comrades had escaped from Enforcers, others were killed in the explosion, and then there was you. It was a sacrifice so that your comrades could have time to escape. And you’ve long accepted your fate.

That is until a certain professor decided to mess with fate.

After being forced out of your cell to meet this Professor Heimer—something, you weren’t really sure about. All you knew was that these Enforcers really liked to manhandle you especially roughly and took pleasure in seeing the black eye and blood on your teeth. That you were used to.

“Oh dear, could we please get her a towel at least?” The professor chided with a shake of his head. “Goodness, at least have her be presentable!”

Eventually, you got the rag, albeit it was thrown at you. After spitting on one of the Enforcer’s shoes, you wiped the blood and dirt from your face as the professor began speaking.

“Well, you certainly live up to your name. The Rebel Moon, is it? You may or may not have heard of me, but I am Professor Cecil. B. Heimerdinger and I are here as a Piltover Academy representative!”

A beat of silence went by. You realized then he was waiting for a response. You rolled your shoulder back and rubbed your aching jaw. “What are you meeting with me for?”

Professor Heimerdinger cleared his throat awkwardly, “Well….it seems you’ve left yourself a bit of a…reputation. I specifically admire your work on the bridge a year ago—marvelous work!” Sarcasm. You didn’t quite appreciate the condescension either. Seeing the unimpressed expression on your face, he quickly continued, “What I mean to get at is that we found some of your…erm, blueprints and I was surprised to see that most of them had been handwritten yourself, is that right?”

One of the Enforcers placed down a file filled with your old blueprints. They were mostly a copy of the Piltover Bridge, others were for weapons that your previous comrades built off of your drawings. Then there were the private drawings. The ones filled with naïve dreams of rebuilding the Undercity, changing it to a place where it was safe for everyone.

You snatched the files and hid those drawings in the file earning a quick yank from one of the Enforcers holding your chain. But after a subtle look from the professor, the chain loosened, and you frowned, anger boiling in your blood. “Where did you get this?”

Heimerdinger raised his hands, “I come in good faith, child, that I can promise.”

“I don’t particularly care about your promises—”

“Oh yes, very true,” The professor tapped the table thoughtfully. “But I do think you will like the proposition I have for you.”

Apparently, you had the potential talent of being an architect. One of the best in your generation it seemed—which somehow, he got from just looking at your old blueprints. And now he was convinced that you should join his Academy and that this was the perfect opportunity for you to change your life. To start over. To—

“Become one of you people?” You frowned and pushed the file away from you. “I’ll take my chances in here.”

 Heimerdinger, of course, was quite the persistent man.  “Imagine what you could do with your talents, Miss Moon. You’re still so young, you don’t have to waste your life behind bars. You can start anew!”

“I’m not wasting away in here.” You say simply, your shoulders are heavy and your face still sore. Carefully and slowly, you leaned back in the chair you were sitting in,  trying not to put too much stress on your recently dislocated arm. “That’s the thing with you Upsiders. You all don’t know anything about what it is to fight. And what it is to sacrifice just so your people can see the light of day. I don’t need your handouts. I’m doing just fine here. It’s where I belong.”

At that, he frowned. “I’m afraid I disagree with you, Miss Moon.” He pushed the file back toward you. “You have the chance to create something beautiful for your city, for your people. You have the chance to help them live. You have the chance to be something greater.”

Greater. You weren’t great. It was either great or nothing.

Somehow, Heimerdinger managed to strike a deal and get you out of Stillwater despite your rejection. For some reason, he was so determined to make you into something that you weren’t. And you were determined to fail. You were determined to prove him wrong. Even if he tried to impress you with the new uniform, the scenery, and the architect of Piltover—just to inspire you—you would not break.

If anything, seeing all this luxury only made you angrier. Even if they preached about you now being free with new chances, there were still shackles clamped on your wrists, imprinting themselves like a tattoo. To remind you that even if you’ve gotten this chance, there is always a chance for you to go back. And they wouldn’t hesitate to send you back once you mess up. Which was what you were counting on.

But it seemed that Heimerdinger was a lot more astute than you expected. The professor had you in his study during the day to work and look over some blueprints for new housing at the Academy. It left you with very little time to plan something reckless that would have you sent back to prison. Which, you guessed, was what Heimerdinger wanted. So, you entertained him and worked on the stupid blueprints, redesigning everything as fast as you could so you could get done faster and have more time on your hands.

Of course, that plan went quickly out the window when there came more demands for blueprints. Leaving you swapped and buried deep in work you didn’t even want. And yet, admittingly, it was a nice distraction. There was a small part of you—the child you—that enjoyed some of this. You would never admit that to Heimerdinger and yet you couldn’t put the pencil down. Eventually, you began receiving so many different requests for different projects that Heimerdinger got you a lab over your own, so all your stuff didn’t get overcrowded in his study.

Requests were filled with more designs or redesign for specific buildings they were hoping to update to catch up to the times—and then there were a few that had you designing weapons. The more you worked, the more of a reputation you began to build in the Academy. The new Undercity kid. Rebel Moon. Hephaestus. It was all ridiculous.

That’s when another fellow Undercity student finally found you.

“I fear those papers would catch on fire the more you glare at it.”

It was an accented voice that stirred you out of your spinning thoughts. You definitely had been glaring at the blueprints of a recent request for an apartment just a few walks from campus. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward the man—he seemed a little bit older than you, walked with a cane, intrigued amber eyes, and a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

“If you’re here for a request then just leave it over there with the rest.” You murmured before turning your attention back to the blueprints after pointing toward a desk in the corner stacked with many more requests.

There was a short breath before he spoke, “Ah, no, I actually already sent a request just a few weeks ago…I’m impressed by your work, the professor has a knack for spotting talent.”

You didn’t respond as you kept staring at the blueprints, twirling the pen in your hand, feeling the weight of the shackle around your wrist.

You heard him clear his throat, “So, you are from the Undercity?”

“What’s it to you?” You grunt before outlining.

“Well, truthfully, I didn’t expect the Academy to accept another one.”

At that, you swirl around in your seat and sized the man up carefully. He was pale, slightly hunched to hide his true height, neatly combed dark hair, and he had very fine cheekbones. “Another one? What, too many Zaunites in your perfect little school?”

“I would’ve thought they had enough once I joined.” He gave a knowing smile that made you pause and narrow your eyes.

“…You’re…from the Undercity?”

He moved toward you; the click of his cane echoed in the quiet room and offered his hand to you. “I’m Viktor. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, Miss Moon.”

You stared at his hand for a moment, tilting your head, “Great things? That doesn’t sound right.”

Viktor chuckled, still holding his hand out. “Eh, some people might have a few opinions about you. Unfortunately, it made me all the keener to meet you in person.”

“Am I what you expected then?” You asked as you eventually shook his hand, your shackles clinking a bit.

With a small smile, he squeezed your hand, “No. Not at all.”

Your brow twitched as you studied him. He was delicate-looking. But his hand was a bit larger yet slender. They were calloused, just like yours yet warm compared to your coldness. It was then you realized that your hand was still in his and you pulled it away and turned back to your work.

“My name’s not ‘Miss Moon’ by the way.” You grunt as you refocus.

There was another soft chuckle and a click of his cane before he was gone. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder and stare at the doorway, a little bit too intrigued.

After that, you didn’t stop seeing Viktor. At least twice every week you’d get a request for him to polish some designs for his work. Sometimes he’d send his assistant, Sky, and sometimes he’d come in person himself.  At first, you weren’t entirely sure about him. But the fact that he was from the Undercity along with his assistant was slightly comforting. At least you weren’t alone here. Still, it was odd. Foreign.

“Have you ever gone out to see the finished product of your work?” Viktor asked you one day, deciding to linger even after delivering yet another request for something to do with a Hexcore.

“No.”

“Why?”

You frown and glance toward him. He was looking over some of your finished blueprints with a strange look accompanied by a smile. “I’m just not interested.”

Viktor blinked and met your eyes with a small frown. You didn’t say much more—truthfully there wasn’t much more to be said about it.

“Well, it’s one of the most beautiful designs I’ve ever seen. If that’s any consolation.”

You felt something in your chest at his words. Perhaps some of you did want to see the finished products of your design. And yet you were always rooted in this lab. In the dark under one lamp, barely seen by other students. Hephaestus.

Viktor tapped your workbench thoughtfully and hummed, “I’ll leave you to it, Miss Moon.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not my name.”

He laughed and left your lab.

On another day he came into your lab in quite a hurry. He left his requests as usual before rushing out. Only he left a ring behind. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glanced at the ring on the floor and toward your workbench before sighing. After grabbing the ring, you pushed up from your stool and left your lab. This was the first time you’ve walked around campus or went anywhere besides your lab or Heimerdinger’s study.

You asked around for Viktor’s lab until you stopped on a bridge, spotting something quite familiar.

It was the newly remodeled dorms. They glistened like gold in the sun. Build just like how you imagined them in your head. Just like how you outlined it on paper. Only in your dreams could you imagine what they would look like. But seeing it….It was real. And it was beautiful. And it came from your mind.

“Ah, Miss Moon, odd seeing you here!” Viktor approached you quite smugly from across the bridge. He glanced toward the dorms and gave a grin, “They just got done with it last week. What do you think, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes, “You scheming little eel.”

Viktor blinked almost too innocently, “I haven’t a clue what you mean—ah, I was looking for that.”

He gestured toward the ring in your hand. You gave it back to him while your eyes couldn’t help but draw back to the dorms. There was a tightness in your chest and a small ache behind your eyes.

“Glorious, isn’t it?” Viktor asked, his voice gentle as always.

You snapped out of your reserved awe and cleared your throat. “They did okay, I guess.”

With that, you darted back to your lab, the dorms imprinting themselves in your mind.

It became a routine at some point. Viktor began visiting your lab a little more often. At first, you didn’t notice this. But some days he’d come back to your lab a second time that day just to linger and see what else you were working on. At first, you thought you found it annoying. But as the days carried on and turned into weeks, you began to begrudgingly look forward to his visits.

“At least make yourself useful. Look over my work and see if there’s anything I missed.” You tried grunting when he leaned a little closer than usual to look at the blueprint you were working on.

“Hmm, I can try.” Viktor hummed as he flicked his eyes over the finished prints. “But they’re all probably perfect as usual.”

“Don’t you have some work to get to?”

“Not particularly, no.”

For some reason, he started leaving shit in your lab. Which would lead to you having to go and find him and return his stuff. Stuff like a screwdriver or some paperwork. Today it was a journal as you trudged through the campus and finally found his lab.

“Vik, I understand you’re a busy man, but you can’t keep leaving your shit in my area.” You huffed, throwing his journal onto his workbench, breaking him from his focus.

“Oh, Miss Moon,” He looked genuinely surprised to see you. “I wasn’t expecting you…”

“Yeah, right, so you didn’t leave this in my lab on purpose? You just happen to leave it there for me to find and bring to you?” You hummed, tilting your head as you got a good look at what he’s been working on—something a lot longer than what you’ve been doing. The Hexcore was what he called it. You didn’t understand it yourself—or cared much to learn about it. But you did notice some of your designs were used for his work.

“Mmm, you make me sound like a calculating stalker.” Viktor hummed as he got to his feet, joining your side. So, close his arm brushed against yours.

“Are you?” You quipped dryly while studying the Hexcore.

His slender fingers gently brush along your elbow. “I wouldn’t call myself a stalker, no. Are you interested?”

You glanced at him and realized he was talking about the Hexcore. “No. Just give me the why.”

Viktor hummed once more and leaned against the table, his fingers still brushing gently along your elbow. “For our home.” At that, you felt a tightness within your chest, your features falling slightly. Viktor, who had become very astute with your expression, gently grabbed your arm and squeezed it. “What’s with that face?”

You remember your life before the Academy. You remember your determination to prove Heimerdinger wrong. “Sometimes…I feel as if I’ve gotten too comfortable…too used to all of this….”

In the end, it was always your people above everything else. A revolutionary never dies, that was the simple truth.

“I think I’ve gotten too comfortable too.” Viktor frowned softly, tilting his head a bit to get a better look at your eyes when you averted your gaze. “And it’s all your fault, Miss Moon.”

You rolled your eyes only for him to lean forward and capture your lips with his. A lick of fire had been rekindled within you, breathing life into your soul, into your body. When he brought his hand to the back of your neck, when he practically cradled your face and brought you closer so he could deepen the kiss, when he touched you so gently as he always did, it was as if for a moment that heavy weight on your shoulders had been lifted. Leaving you weightless for even just a moment. That bit of relief was a breath of fresh oxygen in your lungs.

The heat from his lips moved from your mouth and down to your jaw and to the crook of your neck. Your back was pressed against the workbench as he practically clung and draped himself over you. And you let him. Even when he desperately wanted to feel you and kiss you all over, he was gentle. He always was.

The days didn’t change much except for whenever he was free, he’d head straight for your lab. Whether on a break or in a hurry, he’d always stop by and pepper your face with quiet kisses and touches before leaving for his lab. It was routine. You were getting comfortable. Comfortable in his warmth. In his gentle hold.

“Just stay,” Viktor murmured against your jaw as you examined some of his work with the Hexcore. “Your presence is better than that tea Jayce always makes.”

“I can’t, Heimerdinger wants to meet with me soon, and I got a bunch more new requests on my desk.” You hummed while looking through Viktor’s partner, Jayce’s, notes. “I think that Jayce guy requested some designs for a hammer of some kind—that’s been taking up most of my time as of lately so I can’t necessarily—”

“I know, I know,” Viktor rested his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment as he slumped against you.

His health had gotten worse, which was something you and everyone else noticed. It did worry you how much he was working lately without much sleep, but you quickly learned how much of a stubborn man he was—especially when it came to his work.

“What do you think Heimerdinger wants to meet with you about?” He voiced your constant question out loud.

“Don’t know.” You murmured, trying not to think too much about it—or his health right now. “Won’t know until I get there. Probably wants to send me back to Stillwater.”

At that, he pinched your waist, “Don’t joke like that.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Losing you is not funny to me.”

You placed Jayce’s scribbles down and wrapped your arms carefully around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder with a soft hum. He instantly relaxed in into your hold, but of course, you could tell his mind was still half Hexcore and half you at the moment. “Be sure to get some rest, okay?”

As usual, he gave a half-assed noise of slight agreement.

ACT II: REBEL MOON

It wasn’t long before Jayce Talis became the Man of Progress and Viktor became buried in his work. And then you were promoted. The lead architect of a very important project for Piltover. No longer the Rebel Moon but Hephaestus, Piltover’s future.

But.

But.

Everyone saw you as the kid saved from the Undercity and made a new. Everyone saw you as the future of their city. You were part of the progress of tomorrow. And you kept chasing Viktor, trying to keep up with his mind but he—he had become so work driven—so ambitious on the Hexcore dream that he had forgotten everything else.

You were angry. Angry at Piltover. Angry at what you’ve become. Angry at Viktor. This wasn’t the life you had chosen. All of this was envisioned for you. This wasn’t for you. You had nearly gotten so swept up in all the glamour and success that you had nearly forgotten—

No. You would never forget your people.

So, when your lab went up in smoke when you destroyed the project that you had been assigned to as lead architect, when the Enforcers tackled you to the ground and arrested you on the spot, when one of them grinned as if they’d been waiting—waiting for you to finally mess up, you knew right then that you would never be what Heimerdinger, what Viktor, or what anyone saw for you. You were a Zaunite after all. And a revolutionary. A rebel. Always.

It wasn’t long before you were placed back in Stillwater Hold. In the same cell. With the same shackles. You didn’t even get to tell Viktor goodbye. Would he have even realized it? Or perhaps, it was better off to leave him to his Hexcore dream. Perhaps, that was best. Yes.

But your mind was no longer settled with just staying in a cell and living out your sentence. One thing Piltover did give back to you was your fighting spirit. Rekindled your fire. And breathed life into your dead soul. And so, you weren’t quiet in the cell. You made noise. Cried out for war until the rest of the prisoners joined you. It wasn’t long before a riot broke out. The prisoners overpowered the guards, and you led them to escape.

The streets of Zaun were screaming for the Rebel Moon once more. Even now more so than ever when rumors began flying around about a rocket hitting Piltover, resulting in a few councilmembers’ deaths. Your thoughts wandered to Viktor, you wondered if he was okay, if he hadn’t killed himself working so hard. But your focus went back to your people. To the escaped prisoners as you all went into hiding underground. They followed you. Their chosen leader. You had no wish to be a leader, but you did want to be free and help your people.

ACT III: NONBELIEVER

Hiding in the Underground for months began to wear everyone down, even you—their supposed fearless leader. The sickness in the Undercity knew no bounds. Many of your people were getting sicker and dying as the days passed. You did your very best trying to supply and care for them—but you could only do so much.

That’s when you started hearing strange rumors about some healer in the Undercity. A herald or whatever that meant. At first, you didn’t think much of these rumors while being so focused on caring for your people.

Soon, sightings of strange people began appearing. Shouting about the Herald and how he could save their people. You were…wary of this. It almost seemed too good to be true. And you hadn’t seen these strange people yourself, so you thought it was all fake, stories made up to give the people false hope.

You came back from the small local market with more food than you could scrape up. Somehow, you’d have to figure out how to make it last throughout the month. But there were so many people. So many people are coming for refuge, and so many people in need of help.

“Are you the Rebel Moon?”

At the voice, you stop and glance over your shoulder, only to find no one there. Had you imagined it? Were you too wary after months of people coming to you and seeking refuge? The name Rebel Moon became a beacon of hope as much as it was for the name Jinx or that Herald.

Deciding it was just exhaustion messing with your head, you turn to continue forward, only to gasp and stop when you nearly ran into someone standing directly in front of you.

And they had appeared out of nowhere. It was a man that you didn’t know. His face void of any emotion except for a simple smile on his face, strange crystal-like fixtures embedded into his skin, while wearing white fabric far too clean to have come from the Undercity.

“You are Miss Moon, yes?” The man asked.

You stiffened. No one had called you that in a while. No one except… “Whose asking?”

The smile remained on the man’s face, “The Herald has been searching for you, Miss Moon. And he would like to speak with you.”

You gripped the basket of fruit and near stale bread in your hand and gritted your teeth, “I’m not interested, thanks.”

Just as you nudged past the man to continue down the crowded street, he spoke again. Only this time it wasn’t his voice coming from his mouth.

“You’re a hard woman to track, Miss Moon.”

It was like the air had been stolen from you as you whirled around to stare wide-eyed at the man with Viktor’s voice. The basket fell from your grasp, but the man was quick to catch it—somehow so fast—as he handed it back to you. “V-Vik?”

He nodded and slowly blinked, “I feared I wouldn’t see you again. You disappeared so suddenly, almost as if you weren’t there to begin with.” The man’s hand came up to gently brush his fingers along your jaw sending a sharp shiver down your spine. “Almost as if you never existed.”

You flinched almost and stepped back. Thoughts swirled within your mind as you tried to reel from the man speaking in Viktor’s voice. “What…what is this? How are you doing this?”

“I don’t want you to be frightened of me.” He instead said, taking another step forward but didn’t reach out to touch you again. “I only want to help you. I can save those people from that sickness.” You opened your mouth, ready to ask how he knew but stopped yourself which allowed him to continue, his voice gentle. “Only if you let me.”

“You’re the Herald.” It was mostly confirmation for yourself as you let the words slip out.

The man smiled softly, “I wish to see you again, Miss Moon. There is so much I wish to show you. But I will come to you first.”

Before you could ask what, he meant by that, the man’s voice returned, and Viktor’s voice was gone. “The Herald will come tomorrow, Miss Moon.”

And with that, watched this vessel of a man walk away. Leaving you feeling as if you were in some type of nightmare. No, alternate reality. It must’ve been some hallucination. Yes. That had to be it.

Only when the next day came, one of the children at your camp came running to you about the Herald being here, did you know right then and there that this was not a hallucination.

You watched as he entered your camp with those lifeless people that followed him.  Viktor had changed. Covered in indigo metallic skin, his hair slightly longer, his posture straighter yet still relying on a cane—or staff in this case.

Viktor’s eyes found yours almost instantly as if they were magnetically drawn to you. It looked like him.

“Miss Moon.” He hummed as he drew closer, staring at you with the same gentleness despite the distance in his expression.

It sounded like him.

You led him to the tent he would be staying in, watching the lifeless people tend to your people with baskets of fresh fruit and food. Viktor called your name in his accented voice, drawing your attention back to him, finding him already staring at you with an intense expression.

Even in this form, Viktor’s body couldn’t help but be pulled toward you. He let the staff rest while his hands slowly came up to trace and feel this human skin. Distantly he was all too aware of it. How he still reacted to you. With the remnants of Sky lingering in his mind, his thoughts had always wandered back to you. The image of your divine being. If he could still dream, it would’ve only been you he would’ve seen.

There was a strong pull that led him to you. Perhaps sensations of desperation. Even as he leaned his forehead against yours, feeling the little warmth coming from your body against his metallic yet pallid skin—he still wished to mold himself to you. To never stop touching you. To never let you slip from his fingers again

And then there was that look on your face. The furrow in your brow running heavy with exhaustion—you hadn’t slept. At that realization, his hand gently squeezed the side of your neck absently.

“You’re so quiet.” Viktor hummed finally, quietly for only you and him to hear in the stillness of the tent. His thumb traced your cheekbone. “You’re always keeping your thoughts from me.”

You tilted your head, trying to stir yourself out from the haze of his touch. “Are those…those people….are they the ones you ‘saved’?”

“Yet, so honest.” There was a hint of a smile on his face as he selfishly pulled your hand against his chest, keeping it there, selfishly. “Yes. They’re healed. No more…senseless pain. I can offer your people this peace. And you can come to stay at our new home. I think…you’d like it. You need peace.” He rubbed his thumb under your eye, making your shoulders grow heavier. “And rest.”

You couldn’t come up with a response. His lips linger on your mouth, and your jaw, and your neck. His fingers thread through your hair which had grown longer since the last time he had seen you. Gentle traces, cool breath fanning along your skin, his arms wrapping around your weathered and scarred form. Even your fingers traced his new skin. Refamiliarizing yourself with him.

But.

But.

It wasn’t him.

Even when his lips pressed gently yet hastily against yours, his body clinging to your human flesh, it still felt like a stranger. Familiar yet unfamiliar.

Confliction warred at your mind as you watched him move through the camp, your people looking at him as if he were a savior. As if the gods had sent him when it was only magic and remnants of the Hexcore embedded into his body. Your eyes couldn’t stop falling onto the lifeless people he ‘saved’. The ones that followed him without much thought. Would your people look like this? Void of themselves? No breath. No heartbeat?

But then you wanted Viktor. You wanted to go to this peaceful land he had created for himself and these people. You wanted to be with him. To be wrapped in his gentle embrace once more. To hear his voice whisper gently into your ear, easing the exhaustion from your muscles.

But.

But.

But.

Viktor reached out toward a boy. Sparks danced along his fingertips. The boy stared in awe. It was instant, your reaction.

Your hand grasped his wrist, stopping him. Viktor’s gaze met yours in an instant. You didn’t know what your face looked like, but it made Viktor falter.

Viktor saw your face and absolute dread filled him. A sense of it at least. It made his body go slack in your grasp—surrendering to you instantly. The glassiness of your gaze and that expression. He had never seen such a thing on your face. Fear. Desperation. Hurt. Sorrow. Grief.

He’d lost you. No. No. He’d…He’d get you back. He couldn’t let you go again…he couldn’t let…

What was this strange feeling in his chest?

You pulled him away from the boy and Viktor allowed himself to follow you. Gazes unwavering. But you forced the words out of your mouth. “This isn’t what I want for these people. This…this isn’t saving them…”

He couldn’t let you slip from his fingers.

You couldn’t let him take your people’s humanity.

He needed to keep you. To keep his humanity.

“Revolutions never rest.” Was your whisper as you released his wrist.

He called your name, but you forced yourself to turn your back on him.

“Show him out.” You murmur to one of the stronger men in your camp. You couldn’t turn back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes. If you did….

Then this conflict would disappear in an instant.

Viktor and his followers left without much problem. Maybe that hurts too.

The yearning for Viktor never left you and yet it wasn’t your job to bring him back. This Hexcore…all of it was beyond you. Maybe all of it wasn’t meant to be for you. Maybe…Maybe he wasn’t meant to be yours….

Days later you had heard the Herald had changed.

Days later the Herald was gone from this world.

Days later your exhaustion and grief wore on your shoulders.

Days later you’re trudging through the Undercity, more baskets filled with fruit in your arms.

Days later, you find a blue shard on the ground, somewhere near where Viktor’s utopia had been.

You picked it up from the ground, a remnant of what remained of Viktor and his work. You saw the manmade tents that were now abandoned, the builds similar to your past designs of what you wanted for the Undercity.

Silent tears fell from your cheeks as you gripped the shard. And you clutched the shard so tight in your hand that you could’ve sworn you felt a soft hum from it. Or maybe you were imagining things. Maybe you were too exhausted. Maybe you really did need rest.

And then.

You heard that accented voice.

“Miss Moon.”

Your breath hitched as the shard suddenly began to glow.

And Viktor’s voice came from it.

“May I show you something?”

And then. There was a bright blue flash.

[emchante]

Angst idea coming up!!

I imagine there would be a school event let’s say and Daniel would go with his children of course, possibly want to take you with him, but his ex wife would insist that it’s a family event and you’re not family in any way or shape, no matter how much you take care of Daniel’s kids, this just isn’t a place for you and this could make Daniel uneasy because he’d see the logical part in his ex wife’s reasoning yet feel bad because you are his new partner and his kids like you and I imagine this uneasiness and perhaps indecisiveness from Daniel would spark uncertainty in you as well and that just hits right in the heart

~🫠

🫠 nonnie always pulling through.. i know that’s right!! but GOD?? the thought of this?? it pulls my heartstrings. the angst potential LORDDD.

you know the usual, drabble under the cut<3

“she’s not family, daniel,” is spat across the line, daniel wincing at the harshness in his ex-wife’s voice. “she looks after the kids— great. that doesn’t make her family all of a sudden.”

daniel’s fingers drum against the kitchen counter anxiously as she rambles on, adding more reasons why you shouldn’t be at the kids’ charity evening. parents were invited along of course, running stalls with their children. it was a great idea, the kids were so excited to tell you, daniel and their mother.

but they didn’t know themselves that their mother wasn’t onboard with it.

“it’s— it’s not fair to leave her out,” he interrupts, screwing his eyes shut in preparation for another shout down the phone. thankfully, it’s only a deep sigh so he can continue. “the kids love her, they were so excited to tell her,” he explains, a soft smile appearing on his face as he recalled the memory.

“i don’t care, daniel,” she tells him, and she definitely isn’t lying— he had never heard her sound so bored, apart from the times daniel had tried to organise date nights that were more.. him. not a good memory. “remind me what the first line of the handout says?”

daniel frowns out of confusion at the question, but obliges anyways. he grabs the sheet of paper from in front of him, opening it up and reading it out. “dear parents of—”

“there!” she shouts, daniel flinching at the sudden loudness. “parents, daniel. she is not their parent. never has been, never will be.”

daniel exhales deeply from his nose. fuck. he should’ve seen that coming. what happened to letters saying ‘parents or guardians’? he shakes his head, trying to think of a response.

but he doesn’t need to, as she speaks up again. “we aren’t discussing this any more now, daniel. break the news— although it really isn’t much of a newsflash— and then start organising your outfit,”

and then the line fell flat.

daniel places his phone on the counter, before allowing his head to fall into his hands with a heavy sigh. he was feeling many emotions. confusion— about the whole thing. upset— he wasn’t able to get his side in. anger— over the newsflash comment. you had come a long way with his kids, and be had a controversial opinion on who was a better mother figure to the two.

————————————

“you can’t come tomorrow.”

the words feel like a stab in the heart when you hear them. daniel had sat you down in the living room after the kids had gone upstairs to play, and told you that he needed to talk to you.

you assumed it was serious, but you didn’t think it was this.

“what?” is all that falls from your lips, as you’re too shocked to form a proper sentence. daniel isn’t even looking at you, he’s more focused on picking his the nail of his index finger.

“you can’t— you can’t come tomorrow. i’m sorry, i know it’s quite late to tell you, but.. yeah,” he trails off, voice low. he still isn’t looking at you, hasn’t done since he asked you to sit with him. it feels dismissive, it feels wrong. it feels like a completely different person in front of you.

“have i done something? we were so excited to bake with the kids and sell their cakes,” you plead, reminding him that just yesterday, you were both so happy about the event.

“look— it’s.. it’s a parent event, yeah?” daniel lets out, cringing at his words. he hates that he’s listening to her, he doesn’t even agree with the decision, but something is telling him he has to.

then again maybe he shouldn’t, because the moment he finally looks up, he sees the saddened look on your face. he couldn’t read every emotion you seemed to portray— you looked upset, hurt and maybe.. betrayed? fuck.

“and— and please believe me when i say you do such a great job looking after them,” he starts, raising his hands as he goes to ramble out something to save his ass.

but you interrupt him with a dry laugh, shutting your eyes as you take a deep breath in. your head falls, and you stare down at your trembling hands that lay atop your thighs. suddenly your vision gets blurry and— oh, the tears have started.

daniel’s heart breaks as he sees the tears welling in your eyes, and he reaches out to comfort you. he wasn’t expecting it to be reciprocated well, but he wasn’t expecting you to completely pull away from him.

“sweetheart—” “don’t sweetheart me, daniel,” you snap, licking your suddenly dry lips. “i thought— i thought that maybe..” you started, daniel’s heart cracking even more at the wobble in your voice. “fuck— i really thought things were moving into a new chapter. i thought that the kids were seeing me as something more than just.. a babysitter. i thought you were starting to see me as something more than a fuck every now and then, like it was in the beginning.”

daniel gapes at your words, and shit. he hadn’t even thought about how the whole situation would have looked without context. but then again, would it have been better with it? it was too late to find out now, anyways.

“no— no, you know it’s not like that,” he tells you firmly, going to reach a hand out for you to comfort you, but he was taken aback when you abruptly stood up.

“i think i’m going to go,” you told him, not allowing nor wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say. as soon as you walked out the living room, he could only stare at the floor in disbelief.

he was trying so hard to obey to his ex, that he was completely disregarding you— his current partner’s— feelings. what the fuck was wrong with him?

he was brought back to reality when you had shouted upstairs to the kids, telling them you had to head back to your own house tonight— that there was some leftover work you had to do. daniel turned his head to the side, watching as his kids ran downstairs to give you a big hug, whining about how they wanted you to stay.

you didn’t even spare him a glance as you said your goodbyes, and he felt like the slammed front door was the only goodbye he’d be getting.

he had really fucked it.

okay honestly i did NOT expect it to get to 1k words.. LOL. angst just really draws me in and i get carried away!! thank you 🫠 nonnie again for this wonderful idea, you’re a godsend<3<3

part 2, perhaps? 👀

[rypnami]

summoning you

characters: leander prewett x house neutral gn!mc word count: 1991 warnings: none! summary: after losing one too many rounds of summoner's court to them, leander becomes suspicious of MC's alleged skill at the game. a/n: for @selenedarling, i LOVED your prompt! i hope you like! this wasn't beta-read but its fine we ball!! ao3 link

“Oh, not again.” MC stomps their foot in frustration as their blue ball slowly rolls off the Summoner’s Court board and thuds into the grass below. Only one of theirs remains on the board, directly in the centre of the 20 point mark. On the other hand, the three red balls are scattered across the board- two on 20, one on 30.

“Aha! I win! I win! Take that!” Leander bounces up and down, throwing his hands in the air. He grins over at MC. “Er, sorry. You, uh, played well, too.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, cheeks going a bit pink. 

If it were anyone else, MC might have cursed them into next week, but they can’t bring themself to be very annoyed at Leander. To be quite honest, he’s cute when he’s excited, and he doesn’t get much more excited than when he wins at Summoner’s Court. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll beat your ass next time, just you wait.”

Leander snickers. “You always say that, and you always lose. Er. Sorry. Again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” MC flicks their wand, resetting the board. “Ready for another round?”

“Um, can’t. Have Herbology soon. It’s really good weather today, would be a shame not to take advantage of it for the plants.” He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit. 

The sun is shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Leander is right, it’s perfect weather for tending outdoors, especially with winter only a couple months away. Now is as good a time as any to give the plants some last days of sunshine. Suddenly, MC finds themself regretting having opted out of Herbology this year- it seems like Summoner’s Court is the only time they get to be around Leander anymore, and it’s quite frankly not enough. Letting him win over and over is all well and good, but they’d like to do something with him that doesn’t involve being dishonest, even if it’s only a white lie.

“Sounds like someone is afraid of a challenge,” they tease. 

“Wh-what? No. Well.” He blushes again, looking away. Merlin, where does he get off being so adorable? MC will never understand it. “Perhaps, but I really do have class.”

“Which you’re going to be late for if you don’t hurry up.” Samantha Dale says loudly from beside the game board.

The pair of them jump. “Bloody hell, where did you come from?” Leander gasps, clutching at his chest.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past several minutes, actually. Nice to know you were paying attention.” 

“Ah, who can blame us? We were in the midst of a gripping competition.” 

“I'm sure. You.” Samantha points at Leander. “Come. I will not be late because of you!”

MC frowns. Hmph. What’s she so eager about anyway? “Why don’t you just go ahead?” 

Samantha stares at them. “Because whenever I go it alone, Violet McDowel ends up sitting next to me, and I would rather limit how long I’m around her, frankly. Prewett is a step up, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leander mutters, hopping down from the wooden platform. “I feel so loved." He spares MC a last glance, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. “Er. See you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are not jealous as they watch Leander walk back to the castle with Samantha. It’s perfectly normal and platonic to feel itchy and mildly ill watching your good friend spend time with someone else. Not at all indicative at all of any underlying feelings that MC has definitely not been suppressing since the better half of last year. Nope, just normal everyday things to feel. Definitely. Not like they have a claim on him anyway. He’s perfectly free to hang around whoever he wants, even if it makes MC want to blow up a goblin encampment, just to feel something else. 

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“MC really is something,” Leander says conversationally. “Great at everything. Except for Summoner’s Court.”

Samantha gives him a strange look. “Yeah… funny, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes.” They both take their seats next to each other at their potting stations. “You really don’t find it strange that they practically excel in all their classes, they won every Crossed Wands duel for the second year in a row, and also was champion of Summoner’s Court last year? They beat Professor Ronen at his own game, literally.” 

Leander has gone a deep shade of red, so he busies himself poking at the leaves of his Mallowsweet plant in a pitiful attempt to distract himself. “That doesn’t-”

“They stopped a rebellion, destroyed a criminal empire in Hogsmeade, and saved the whole school from a goblin invasion, but they can’t beat you, of all people, at Summoner’s Court?”

“Hey!”

“Just saying,” Samantha shrugs. “It’s all a bit odd.”

As much as he’d like to argue, he knows Samantha has a point. It is odd. MC has never lost at anything else, ever, to the point it’s almost supernatural. From the day they first came to Hogwarts, surviving a dragon attack and then defeating a troll in the village circle, they’ve never been anything but extraordinary. How would they keep losing to him? He’s never been very good at anything at all, especially compared to MC. There’s a voice in the back of his head, almost always whispering that he’s not good enough.

“Oh, Merlin,” He groans, putting his face in his hands as the pieces fall together. “It’s pity. They’re letting me win out of pity because I’m terrible. For the love of-” Leander has never been so embarrassed in his life. It all adds up though, doesn’t it? How could MC ever fail, if not on purpose? Is he really so pathetic? How in the world hadn’t he noticed before someone else pointed it out? His older sister always does tease him for not being the most observant, and he always thought it was just that- teasing. Unfortunately for him, it seems like she couldn’t have been more correct. 

“That might not be it,” Samantha says, gently patting his shoulder and looking mildly distressed. “I- perhaps they really aren’t very good! Probably, er, got rusty over the summer holiday, right?”

It’s appreciated, but her words do little to help. They both know damn well MC is throwing the games on purpose, but the question for him now is why? Why in Merlin’s name would they want to lose to him? 

He’s determined to find out. Grabbing his Mallowsweet in its hand-painted terracotta pot,he gets out of his seat with it. “I’m going to take Mortimer outside for some proper sun.”

“I believe you,” she says flatly.

Leander sticks his tongue out at her as he struts out of the Greenhouses with the plant. He might not be good at Summoner’s Court, but he does know plants, and he knows how much Mortimer likes to feel real sun on his leaves. Would MC think it’s weird that he gives his plants names and personalities? Is it weird? Why does he even care? 

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he mutters to the plant. “One way or another.”

He shoves open the castle doors, and spots MC still loitering by the Summoner’s Court board. There’s no other challengers, yet there they are, sat on the edge of the platform and kicking their feet. The way the sun shines down on them, making their eyes sparkle just so… it feels like a whole swarm of lacewing flies have taken flight in his belly. Glad he’s got Mortimer for emotional support (although taking a moment to cringe that he thinks of a plant as support), he walks over to them quickly, before he loses his nerve. 

“Well, look who it is,” MC says with an easy smile, which does not help the flip-flopping of his stomach. “I thought you had Herbology.”

“I did. Er, I do.” Leander clears his throat. “Plants prefer, erm, real sunlight though, and Mortimer here really likes when the weather is so nice, so…” 

MC tilts their head. “You name your plants? That’s sweet.”

“Y-yes. Er, that’s not, erm, the only reason I came back out, though. Um.” Just spit it out, you idiot! “Are you- have you…” He squeezes the pot to his chest, suddenly feeling foolish. Merlin, but he must look like an idiot, holding a plant and hardly able to get a real word out. “Have you been letting me win? At Summoner’s Court, I mean?”

“Uh.” MC’s face seems to go a bit pale. “Um. Would you be particularly upset if I have been?”

“I…” Leander sits next to them, shifting the pot so it rests in his lap. “Not especially. I’d just like to know… why?”

They shrug. “You always seem so happy when you win, you know? Thought I might let you have a few victories.”

“But so many times in a row? You haven’t won a single round in weeks!” 

A silence stretches between them, slightly awkward. “I…” They chew their lip and don’t meet his eyes, which is wholly unlike them. “I dunno, I thought if you kept losing, you wouldn’t want to play anymore.” To avoid looking at Leander, they stare at his plant instead, picking off some of the withered leaves. “I miss spending time with you, is all. We hardly have any classes together anymore, and with Crossed Wands already over for the year, it feels like this is the only place we can really be around each other.”

What what what what what what what WHAT.

“W-we do have some classes together…”

“It’s not the same, though.” They stop fiddling with Mortimer and glance up at him. 

Leander forgets how to form words for a moment. “I- I suppose not.” 

“I…” MC takes a deep, steadying breath. “I really like you, and being around you, and you’re not like anyone else I know, and I just… wasn’t sure how to ask you to… spend time together. More time together.”

“Could’ve just said that,” Leander says with a light chuckle, although it feels like his chest is constricting. They like him? And being near him? How on earth is that possible? “But I do appreciate winning.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” They elbow him, and he almost drops his plant. “Take that, I win every time, you lose!” They attempt to mimic his voice. Actually, it’s not a bad impression. 

“I really like being around you, too.” 

Now MC is blushing as well, something Leander never expected to see in all his life. Honestly, it suits them. “So, then… would you maybe want to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight? Like… as a date?”

He wants to jump up and down and say yes yes yes a million times yes absolutely as if you even have to ask, but…

“I would really love to, but I can’t tonight, I have to take care of Percy. But you’re welcome to join me in the Greenhouses… as a date. It could be fun!” A first date involving plants sounds like a grand time to Leander.

“Percy?”

“He’s a moonflower. They only bloom at night, but they’re good for potions and such, so… only if you want!” The burst of confidence has already faded, and the tiny voice is back, telling him that it’s just more pity, that MC doesn’t really want to be with him, of all people, and that his idea for a date is stupid. He tells it to shut up.

“I’d be more than happy to. A greenhouse date sounds lovely.” MC gives him that easy smile again, making his knees a bit weak. How are they so amazing? “You know, I always thought of the moon as a woman. Not a man called Percy.”

“Well, yeah, but Percy isn’t the moon, he’s a moonflower, there’s a difference.” 

“Oh, shush, you.”

[horse-girl-anthy]

The City and the Self: Or, the Uses of Lesbianism

someone in my server recently asked why Ikuhara seems so hung up on lesbians. I gave a short answer which in hindsight doesn't satisfy me. even this post won't touch on everything, there's plenty more that could be said, but here's a stab at a more complete answer, drawing from RGU specifically, though I think these points generalize to YKA as well.

a long time ago--around 2017, I believe--I posted in the RGU tag, asking about differences between how the western and Japanese fanbases see the show. the answer I got surprised me: I was told a popular fan theory held that Utena and Anthy were the same person. this is confirmed in the interview Ikuhara did with Mari Kotani:

Kotani: How did you think about relationships between two women, like the relationships between Utena and Anthy, Juri Arisugawa and Shiori Takatsuki, and so on? Sometimes it is thought of as one girl and her alter ego. Ikuhara: Yes, that's true of course.

at the time, this didn't make sense to me. now, though I don't take the "alter ego" concept literally, I certainly see where these theorists were coming from.

the very first impression the audience gets of the show, the opening seconds of the theme song, depict Utena and Anthy as mirror images of one another. I can't find the post now, but I once saw someone do a face swap of Utena and Anthy... and there was almost no difference in the final result aside from their eye color. yes, the show has somewhat same-y character designs (pointy chins, noses, etc.), and yes, Utena and Anthy are differentiated by coloring and height. however, there are differences in the facial features of the other characters, including other female characters like Juri and Nanami, meaning that you wouldn't get the same result from face swapping them that you do from face swapping Utena and Anthy.

visually, the show is trying to tell you something: Utena and Anthy are counterparts; not "the same person," in that there are clear contrasts between them, but perhaps different aspects of a single self. to put it another way, they cannot be separated from one another; what happens to one of them will affect the other, and how they relate to each other tells you a lot about how they relate to themselves.

RGU is not the first story to have this premise. I just watched Ingmar Bergman's Persona, which uses two women to tell the story of one woman, and that came out all the way back in 1966. I think that it's possible to do this kind of story with characters of different genders--however, it's most often done with homosexual/homosocial pairings because two people of the same gender are seen as better mirrors to one another.

when I initially gave my response as to why Ikuhara writes a lot of lesbians, I cited the influence of shoujo manga. however, I didn't detail how homosexuality was featured in those manga.

Ikuhara once said that the core theme of shoujo is "self-revelation." he wanted to capture that in RGU, and it seems to have come across. consider Takemiya Keiko's reading of RGU as "A story about independence, about finding oneself. It feels like a story about a girl defining 'what is myself?'"

this journey of self-discovery must involve encounter with the other. part of romance is other-longing, the desire to meet the unknown; love requires a separate entity which is not merely an extension of the self (this is why I don't believe that Utena and Anthy actually are "the same person"). through encountering the other, one can find one's own self, and further, through this encounter, the selves which meet can be transformed.

while plenty of 20th century shoujo did center heterosexual couples, I believe that homosexual and homosocial relations were so prevalent because they facilitated this romance more effectively. on a visual level, a homosexual pairing can create a clearer parallel, as discussed above. for a more thematic angle, RGU's lead writer Enokido has mused that homosexuality removes the issue of "genetic advantage" from the equation; since there is not a clear "survival and reproduction" benefit to homosexuality, it is easier to see it as "pure love." along the same lines, Ikuhara has said that "as soon as you see the destination point of producing children, sex becomes a social system." that's not to say that homosexual couples exist independently from social systems. the point is that writers who wish to pursue the idea of "self-discovery through the other" may wish to do so in the context where the norms of heterosexuality are not an issue, as they could muddy the water.

as an example, take Kaze to Ki no Uta, an influence on RGU. Gilbert and Serge, the lead couple, are very different people. often in conflict, their love ends tragically. that is precisely the power of the story: Serge, who is left alone after Gilbert's death, will live the rest of his life feeling incomplete, unwhole, because he has lost the "other self" by which he came to be defined. in Ikuhara's words, "It’s a story about that which forms the core of an artist - a starvation that can never be satiated."

when done properly, this kind of romance can be very moving, because it is not only a "love story" but also a story about the self and its relationship to the other. and even more potent are stories which are both about "finding one's other self" and about "the city":

Ikuhara: Out of your works, I particularly like the stories about cities... Stories of cities and “one’s other self” are enchanting aren’t they. There are a lot of shoujo mangaka who write about one’s other self, but there aren’t really any who write about cities. I think a story is weak if it only talks about relatives and neighbours and never about cities. In contrast, I think your stories which are simultaneously about cities really bring out their era. I think that allows you to mark out a line for the story of the other self. Takemiya: Personally, I feel at a basic level that stories without a sense of daily life aren’t very interesting. If one thinks of each person as a single cell, then the city becomes the “body”, and one cannot create a world without both. Based on where they live, some people become more modern or more provincial - the environment really plays a role. For me, it is a necessary component.

I agree with this exchange: the best stories about "one's other self" aren't solely about love between two people, but instead love between two people placed in a particular social context. it is that social context which gives the relationship flavor.

this brings us to the other reason that lesbianism (and homosexuality more broadly) is used in Ikuhara's works. not only does it allow him to tell stories about "one's other self," but also to tell stories about social systems. homosexuality is "deviant" within the social system that is set up to produce children in the nuclear family; thus, homosexual couples will face resistence and prejudice. as Ikuhara discussed in this interview, he is not necessarily trying to capture "the lesbian experience" in his works, but rather using lesbianism as an allegory for the sense of being a minority; a person outcast for standing out from the crowd. homosexuality thus allows for a marriage between the themes of "the self" and "the city" which are central to the telling of a great romance.

bringing it full circle, let's take a look at how this plays out in Utena and Anthy's dynamic, specifically the climax of the first arc. in the build up to it, Utena has been insisting that Anthy behave like a "normal girl," and believes she's succeeding in this venture. however, her illusions are crushed when Touga defeats her in the duel called Conviction. Anthy, now his bride, tells Utena that she likes being the Rose Bride and doesn't mind being alone.

Utena's reaction to this is interesting. suddenly, she is obsessed with being a "normal girl" herself, deftly signaling that all along, she was projecting her own conceptions onto Anthy. though she comes to realize this, Utena ultimately decides to duel again; in the episode 11 preview, she says, "Himemiya, wait! I have to try to get the real you and the real me back!" their selves are linked, tied; Utena cannot be herself without Anthy. what's more, the "false self" that Utena presents is linked to Anthy's "false self"--for, despite her words, it is quite difficult to believe that she "enjoys" being the Rose Bride, any more than Utena "enjoys" wearing girl's clothes. after Utena wins the duel called Self, she and Anthy meet again, paralleling the end of the first episode, but when Anthy tries to impart the rules of the rose crest, Utena tells her, "never mind all that, let's just go home." the two share a moment of authenticity, their "false selves" blown away like petals in the wind. they've drawn closer to each other and to who they truly are, while simultaneously gaining a level of independence from the system which seeks to define them by their gender. the rest of the show will play out in the same manner.

----

side note: I don't think that Ikuhara is more fixated on lesbianism than he is on male homosexuality; however, I'm not sure if he's focused on "mirroring" between homosexual males the same way he has between females, despite the fact that his cited inspiration for the way he wrote relationships between girls in RGU is yaoi.

[silverynight]

The selfish choice

Based on the first episode of act 3 s2. Contains spoilers

Jayce wakes up not precisely screaming, but scared. Maybe the explosion was a dream, but it felt terrifyingly real. Still, he needs to make sure the hexcore is alright, and figure out a way to destroy it.

But when he sits on the bed, he realizes the ceiling is not familiar to him. There's something weird about his body too, even though it looks the same, it's like he's wearing something that's not his even though he's naked under the sheets.

Why is he naked? Suddenly, a sharp pain in his temple makes him groan; flashes of the explosion fill up his mind as his own fingers run through his own hair, and he realizes it's longer... He also has a beard. He hasn't grow one in a long time, he's sure of it.

What's going on?

"Are you alright, Jayce? Did you have a nightmare?"

That voice. He'd recognize that voice anywhere... And the hand on his shoulder, a hand that hasn't been corrupted by hextech yet.

"Viktor?"

"Yes, it's me. It's okay, you're here with me. At home."

It's Viktor. The old one, his partner. But, at the same time, Jayce realizes, as he cups the man's face in his hands, that this Viktor looks different, healthier and happier.

He smiles more, and the expression reaches his beautiful eyes every single time.

"What is it? You look confused," Viktor says gently, caressing his shoulder.

Then Jayce notices that Viktor is also naked under the sheets; he's wearing a wedding band, and when he looks at his own hand over his partner's cheek he realizes he's wearing another one. One that matches Viktor's.

They're married. But he doesn't find the fact weird; it's not even remotely surprising. It makes sense somehow. Like something he should've done from the very beginning, but he was too obsessed with hextech to see the right path in front of him.

However, he's aware he didn't do that; he's not married to Viktor no matter how much he wants it now that the option appeared in his mind.

What's going on? Is this a dream? And if it is, can he stay a bit longer?

He doesn't want to wake up.

"I'll make breakfast. You should stay in bed," Viktor says, getting up before Jayce can grab his arm and beg him to stay with him. He stops only because he finally gets to admire Viktor's beautiful body for the first time. There's not trace of hextech on him.

Then he notices the prosthesis. His right leg. Even thought it's the first time Jayce has seen it, it looks familiar to him somehow.

"Where did you get that?"

Viktor chuckles; it's so good to see him laughing and happy, Jayce wants to make him do that sound again.

"Very funny. You perfectly know you did this for me. It was the first one. We do these for the people who need it. The Kiramman family pays for them."

Jayce can tell Viktor is passionate about the project; he likes to help, he likes to build things to improve people's lives in any way he can. In his heart, this also makes sense. He should've done this in the first place.

"What about hextech?"

"What are you talking about?" He's completely dressed now and Jayce laments it. But he gets closer and touches his forehead. "You're a bit warm, but I don't think you're sick. Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"No!" He snaps, startling Viktor for a moment. No, he doesn't want to go back to sleep because he'll lose this, he's sure of it.

"Maybe we should take the day off. You clearly need some rest."

Jayce has breakfast with him, he looks at their house with wonder; there are a lot of pictures of them, moments he doesn't remember, but that somehow make sense. In some of them, or perhaps a lot, Jayce finds himself staring at Viktor with a besotted grin on his face.

He helps Viktor with the dishes and kisses him for the first time in their kitchen; he can taste Viktor's smile against his lips and although it's familiar, it's completely new at the same time. He should've done that a long time ago.

When Jayce pushes him towards the bedroom, Viktor stops him.

"Wait," he chuckles again. "We should go buy groceries first."

"Viktor, please," this version of him must beg a lot, because his husband just rolls his eyes before following him inside.

"I love you, Viktor," Jayce says with tears in his eyes as flashes of the other Viktor appear in his head; he loves that Viktor too, even though he's been consumed by the hexcore now. "I think I've always loved you."

"I know," he smiles softly, running his fingers through Jayce's hair as they roll their hips together. "I love you too."

***

As the days pass and Jayce gets used to his new life; he realizes that this is not a dream. It feels too real to be one. He's starts wondering if the explosion sent him to another reality, a kinder one.

If that's the case he should try to find a way to get back, but without the hexcore there's no anomaly here.

And frankly, he's not sure he even wants to try; this Viktor is completely his, Jayce doesn't have to share his body and soul with the hexcore. The other one loves their project more than he loves Jayce. He's not sure the other one loves him the way Jayce does.

One day, Heimerdinger knocks at his door, and when he opens it he's tempted to close it right on his face. But then Viktor peeks over his shoulder and smiles.

"Professor, come in!"

This could be the Heimerdinger that lives in their reality, a different one; one who doesn't know about hextech. But Jayce has a bad feeling about him.

"I would like a cup of tea."

Viktor immediately leaves, heading towards the kitchen, acting like this is something that happens quite often at their house.

"How long have you been here?"

"How do you know, professor?"

"There's a different look in your eyes, boy. Besides, the other Jayce doesn't look at me like I'm a threat," Heimerdinger replies simply, staring right back at his former pupil.

"Do you want us to go back?"

"I don't know how we could do that, to be quite honest," he replies, prompting Jayce to finally relax. "I just had a feeling you were going to be sent here too, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. But I can see you have adapted quite well already."

"I don't want to leave, professor."

"I can tell."

"Is that wrong? Am I making a mistake?"

"I don't know."

***

When he sees Ekko again, it's months later; the headaches and flashes of his past life are not that frequent anymore, but it's because Jayce has trained himself to ignore them.

This time, it's Viktor the one who opens the door. Jayce it's in the living room so he manages to hear part of what his husband is saying.

"Is this your new pupil, professor? I'm Viktor. It's a pleasure, Ekko."

This is not a coincidence. The boy has finally arrived and it means nothing good for Jayce.

He rushes towards the entrance and stands between Viktor and the other two, like he's trying to shield him from them.

"You're acting a bit weird today, Jayce," he blurts out, confused before glancing back at their guests. "Don't mind him, he gets overprotective sometimes."

"It's fine," Ekko says. "I understand."

No, he fucking doesn't.

"Viktor, can you give us a minute?" Jayce asks, taking one his husbands hands before kissing it softly.

"Sure. I'll be in the lab."

He leads them to the study before closing the door behind himself; he's getting angry, and the fact that they're both looking at him with pity it's making him feel even worse.

"I won't help you find a way to get back," he says, trying not to growl.

"We already created the anomaly," Ekko shrugs. "We didn't need your help."

Jayce immediately flinches, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

"You never asked," he blurts out before looking at the boy: "How long have you been here, Ekko?"

"I told him we shouldn't bother you," Heimerdinger cuts in then, when it's obvious Ekko is not going to answer any of Jayce's questions. "I apologize, but I genuinely thought you could... uhh... make everything a bit more difficult, if you agreed to help us."

On purpose. Heimerdinger thought Jayce could sabotage their project. But he doesn't get mad because he's right.

He would've.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You need to come back with us," Ekko says, using the exact words he fears the most.

"No."

"Listen, I understand why you-"

"No, you fucking don't!" He growls without actually meaning to.

He hates that Ekko doesn't lose his composure, he hates that he's the mature one even though he's younger than Jayce.

"I do," he insists calmly. Jayce can see it in his eyes, the sorrow, the love... "I have someone here too. I don't want to leave her, but there are other people who need me where I come from. She's there too, another version of her, but I don't want to give up on her just because she's different."

The right words to undo him; the words that bring the image of his Viktor into his mind. He loves his Viktor too, but selfishness has been blinding him this whole time.

He can't give up on him, even if that Viktor doesn't love him as much as Jayce does.

He can find a way to destroy the hexcore and save Viktor at the same time; maybe they can have what they already have in this reality. It'll take some time and effort, but Jayce is going to be patient. He can fight for it.

"Let's go, right now."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye, boy?" Heimerdinger asks, taking pity on him. It's even worse than Ekko's judgment.

"If I see him I won't leave."

***

Something goes wrong. The core is reacting different in that reality, Jayce can feel it as his and Ekko's other selves get thrown out of the sphere and back into their reality.

Heimerdinger gets out before it's time to leave, he disappears outside the core and both Jayce and Ekko know they won't see him again.

When he opens his eyes he knows this is the reality he was supposed to land in the first place because his hammer is there, like it's been waiting for him this whole time. But Ekko is not with him.

And this place, this new reality looks like hell.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Thoughts on Scriddler?

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle up...

Firstly, you gotta understand that all that follows is a recollection of the fandom over the years, since 2015 to be exact. Speaking stickily Jonathan Crane fandom, Scriddler has always been the most popular ship for Scarecrow. I couldn't give ya a beginning to this, as even back then I found years old art for Scriddler circulating. Though, tumblr as a social media is where it blossomed.

When I first started this blog, I had my OC to develop and I was very self conscious and unknowingly putting myself through trauma via art school and a lack of disability accessibility. Not gonna get into that, but I was very vulnerable as well as impressionable.

I did NOT like Scriddler, almost detested it. It seemed like it was everywhere, and this was before tumblr had a decent way of blocking. Not that it would have helped, because for some reason i liked suffering. Felt like I deserved to be depressed. Took me a long time to realize blocking content actually made life better aslhkds

Anyways, even early on I had a lot of support, people wanted to know about my OC and cared, but I always felt like I played second fiddle to the holy of holy, Scriddler. And if you've read any of my recent posts, you know I've come to accept that just how it is with OCs. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my fair share of anon hate, suicide threats, etc. The fandom was not always welcoming. Or perhaps there was just a minority who loved to abuse the anon function. (if you think there's a lot of drama today, you were not there when it was bad)

It took me a LONG time to grow to like Scriddler. I used to feel like they had very little in common, and it bothered me that most of the art was majorly sexual. That's a whole 'nother can of worms, but ya know. I don't hate Scriddler today, which should be obvious seeing as I reblog it now. Though, I like Hattercrow a tad more.

A lot of this was my own internal issues, though the fandoms penchant to take two males who never interact and ship them, suffice to say is alive and strong. Nicely enough however, there has been more "Scriddler" like content from comics. (I say this loosely, but they do interact quite a bite more than they did ten years ago)

Scriddler, and to a lesser, Hattercrow, is a ship you either love or hate. Except me. I kinda fall in the middle. Though I feel it's worth mentioning that Scarecrow has had his fair share of female/female presenting ships too, and as much as I hate to say it, they're generally disliked by the greater fandom. (or simply ignored) We all know why. I've mentioned this before. :/ and I've had close friends give up on their ships because of it. Just like me. I gave up. I hat admitting that, but I can't compete with Scriddler.

I wish there was a way to change that, but I wouldn't know were to start. That's why I try to support OCs for example, someones gotta do it. I can't let another person go through what I went though.

TL;DR: Sciddler is not a bad ship, I don't dislike it anymore, but don't think I'm not silently side eyeing the loud minority who shit on anyone for even thinking Jonathan could love a woman. Ya know, despite canon only showing evidence for that.

[moonmaiden1996]

Taming the Beast Part 5

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

M rating. _ Suggesting and references to sex

The sky stretched vast and relentless above you, the dragon’s powerful wings slicing through the clouds in a rhythmic beat. The cold wind stung your cheeks and tangled your hair into wild knots as you clung to the saddle. The thrill of the journey warred with simmering frustration, only heightened by the possessive hands resting firmly on your waist.

Aemond’s grip tightened slightly as the dragon banked sharply to the right, steadying you. His voice, low and intimate, reached your ear above the roar of the wind. “Relax,” he murmured, his lips far too close. “You’ll grow accustomed to the skies, wife. It’s in your blood now.”

You stiffened but refused to look back. “It’s not fear of falling that keeps me tense,” you replied sharply, your words cutting through the wind like a blade. “It’s the company.”

Behind you, Aemond’s chuckle was soft but unmistakable. “Such fire,” he mused, his fingers brushing your side deliberately. “It only makes you more tempting.”

Heat of indignation flared in your chest, but before you could respond, Daemon’s dragon swept closer, its shadow sprawling across the clouds.

“You’re hogging her, Aemond,” Daemon’s voice carried over the rush of air, laced with mockery. “She’s meant to be our bride, after all.”

“Stay in formation, Daemon,” Aemond shot back, his tone clipped. His fingers pressed harder against your waist as though staking a silent claim.

Your stomach churned—not from the height, but from the tension crackling between them. The journey to King’s Landing had been a gauntlet of veiled remarks and heated glances, their rivalry palpable. You kept your eyes fixed on the horizon as the sprawling city grew closer with every beat of the dragon’s wings.

xxxx

By the time you reached King’s Landing, the city lay cloaked in darkness, its streets hushed beneath the watchful glow of the moon. The dragons descended, spiraling downward with a speed that made your heart lurch. You clenched your jaw as the beast landed in the torch-lit courtyard of the Dragonpit, its talons scraping the stone with a jarring sherik.

Before you could dismount, Daemon was already there, his hand outstretched. “Allow me,” he said smoothly, his grin sharp and predatory.

You ignored him, moving to swing your leg over the saddle, but Aemond’s hands caught your waist, steadying you. His grip lingered, fingers firm as they guided you down.

“Careful,” he murmured, his eye locking onto yours with a heat that made your stomach tighten. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Nephew,” Daemon drawled as he approached, his movements as effortless as his smirk was wicked. “You’re holding her as if you mean to keep her.” His eyes glinted in the torchlight. “You’ve had all evening to hold her in your arms.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t release you until you stepped back, freeing yourself from his hold.

Aemond retorted coldly, his tone clipped. “Don’t mistake me for someone who needs instruction in how to hold what’s mine or for how long I can do so.”

Daemon laughed richly, the sound unapologetic and echoing through the courtyard. “Oh, is that so? Then perhaps you can explain why, after such a long and intimate journey, our dear wife still seems eager to escape your arms. You sound like you need some practice. Not to worry I would not mind you watching while I take our bride in my arms tonight. You might learn a thing or two about making them yearn for your touch.''

Before you could step away from the pair, Daemon caught your arm, his touch surprisingly light but undeniably possessive, his smirk deepening. His violet gaze devouring you, and his voice softened as he leaned in. “Come, wife. Let me see to your needs tonight. I’ll teach Aemond how to care for a bride—and how to make her a wife.” His grin turned wolfish. “I promise you’ll be worshipped in every way a devote husband should.”

Your breath caught, indignation and something else warring within you, but before you could respond, a steward approached, bowing low.

“Greeting My Prince's. My Lady, Welcome to Kings Landing. Separate chambers have been prepared for the lady and her… husbands,” he announced carefully, his eyes darting nervously between the two princes.

Aemond’s gaze turned icy, his jaw tightening. “Watch you mouth, boy. She is our bride our wife what do you mean separate rooms?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained but his tightening grip told you he was less then amused.

“I meant no disrespect. It is the King decreed,” the steward stammered, “that until the marriage is properly blessed in a ceremony witnessed by the court, the lady must have her own quarters. Till she is a Princess.”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, his amusement palpable. “The old man has a sense of humor, after all.” His tone was light, but the sharp glint in his eyes betrayed darker thoughts.

Aemond, however, was far less amused. “How long?” he demanded, his tone icy.

The steward hesitated, visibly wilting under Aemond’s glare. “Fourteen days, my lord.”

Aemond’s fingers flexed at his sides, his expression cold enough to freeze the air. “Fourteen days,” he repeated, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is absurd.”

Daemon clapped a hand to Aemond’s shoulder, feigning sympathy. “Patience, nephew. I’m sure you’ll find a way to endure. Though I admit, it’ll be a test of your mettle.” His grin widened. “Let’s hope you don’t lose your mind before the fortnight is up.”

“Enough.” Your voice cut through the rising tension, sharp and commanding. Both men turned to you, their surprise evident.

You stepped forward, addressing the steward directly. “Thank you for arranging the chambers. I’ll take my leave now.”

Daemon’s chuckle followed you as you turned away. “Spirited, isn’t she?” he remarked to no one in particular. I knew we made the right choice. I cannot wait to get on my knees between her legs and worship like she deserves.”

“Don’t speak of her with such filth,” Aemond snapped, his voice cold and biting.

Ignoring them both, you followed the steward into the Red Keep. The idea of a private chamber was a small mercy, and you intended to savor it. Behind you, their voices continued to bicker, growing muffled as the grand doors closed.

xxxxxxxxx

Inside your chamber, you bolted the door firmly behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a long, steadying breath. The room was modest by royal standards but luxurious compared to what you were used to.

Crossing to the desk, you sank into the chair, your mind racing. The journey had been overwhelming, and the city even more so. Yet in the solitude of your chamber, you felt clarity returning and with that you could plan carefully.

You had questions that demanded answers—about your father’s death, your uncle’s absence, and the motives of the two princes vying for control of your life.

If your Shadowcats reached the city before the ceremony, they could help you navigate the labyrinth of the Red Keep. You needed allies, leverage, and, most of all, time. Your uncle was somewhere in the city, and with him, what remained of your father’s loyal men—hopefully, Brutus, your father’s war-bear, was among them. Tomorrow, you would venture to your father’s wings, and from there, you would find a way out of this mess—out from under the dragons' suffocating grip.

For now, though, you allowed yourself a fleeting smile. The dragons might have their fire and their claws, but they were not the only ones with power in this game.

Pleaseeeee let me know what you think!!!

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

[ego13]

𑜷 ” 因為 𝑺HE SAID '𝑭UCK ME LIKE IM FAMOUS' – 𝑨UDI𝒁 X FEM!READER | 𖥻˙.⭒

𖥻˙.⭒ https://now_playing : 𝚌hase atlanti𝚌 - OKAY

˳  ୭ ꕀ https://synopsis : coming to another boring party, you found yourself a wonderful company with whom you didn’t mind retiring in the spare room of the mansion.

ʾ ִ𓏸 𝆬‌ ۪ . https://warnings : lesbian sex, threesome, sex tape, thigh riding, sloppy sex, hickeys, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, fingering, sex with strangers, loud sex, praise kink, service top!audiz

ˑ ִ ֗𖧷 https://pairing : yu jimin x uchinaga aeri x reader

ᨦ꒰ ៸៸ ꒱ https://authors_note : this is the stupidest thing I've ever written, so excuse the poor writing, I'm having writer's block right now, and it's hard for me to come up with something better. <3

༄ ₊ ꒷https://word_count : 1,9k

L0AD1NG . .

loud music, flashing lights and the voices of drunk people are what surrounded you at the moment, in principle, such an environment has long been commonplace for you, and perhaps someone feels uncomfortable being in such companies, but not you, because your brain already subconsciously felt as if you were really where you should be.

so, having dragged yourself to another party for the sake of free booze, you entered the mansion that you had already known for a long time, you met the owner of this house a long time ago, but it was only recently that you led such a riotous lifestyle by going to such events, after all, you are an ordinary student who spends hours studying and prays every day to think about something other than papers, textbooks and exams.

after another hard day at school, your legs instinctively carried you along the corridor, in search of the door from where this loud music was flowing, and finally the cherished gates opened, and dozens of drunken people appeared before your eyes, and grinning, you were anticipating how you yourself would soon find yourself in a similar state of nirvana, so finding an 'impromptu' bar which consisted of an ordinary table and a dozen bottles standing on it.

you approached the guy standing at the table, he smiled when he saw you, because it was clearly not the first time he had seen you, and you didn’t even have to say anything before his hands independently took the plastic red cup in his hands, pouring colored alcoholic liquid into it, holding it out with such a smile, "so, because of the booze here again?” he asked, picking up his cup and taking a few small sips, "you know, it's better to go to parties for the sake of drinking, and not in the hope that someone will fuck with you."

he playfully rolled his eyes, realizing that the hint was about him, "come on, I won't get anything tonight anyway, so let's just have a drink," you clink cups, and you drank all the contents in one gulp, causing him a pleasant surprise, "what are you, a professional alcoholic? I've never seen a girl who downs half a glass of liquor in one go." you playfully pushed him on the shoulder before grabbing the first bottle you came across, pouring the contents into your cup as you walked away from the table deeper into the dance floor.

still, drinking alcohol in one gulp is clearly not the best idea for you, because a few minutes after you left the bar, you felt your head pleasantly spinning, and as a result, you didn’t notice how you accidentally bumped into an unfamiliar pink-haired girl standing with her back to you.

you immediately began to apologize, saying that it happened by accident, but before you could finish half the sentence, you saw how she turns to face you, and behind her you can see another girl who puts her elbow on her shoulder, "baby, is everything okay?" asked the pink-haired girl, in whose voice there was absolutely no hint of anger, rather, on the contrary, her voice was so calm that it literally intoxicated, "hey, why don't we take care of such a beautiful girl? we see that you are alone here, so why not fix it?"

your evening sucked so much that hearing these words, you only enthusiastically said “yes, please", and upon hearing permission, you felt both girls’ arms wrap around your waist, helping you move away from the dance floor and up to the second floor of the house. the three of you walked along a corridor with a bunch of doors, while the dark-haired girl randomly opened all the doors that came to hand, someone was sleeping, someone was fucking, and she was quietly swearing under her breath, because they urgently needed this fucking spare room, which is finally there, and they both push you needily into it, closing the door from the inside.

in an instant, you found yourself sitting on uchinaga’s lap, while yu’s predatory hands explored your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone, you felt how she ran her fangs along the milky and tender skin, knocking out the first quiet moan from you, obviously not the last for this evening.

you feel the warmth of aeri's breath settling on your rosy face. your fidgets in place and shyly fiddles with the bottom of your black dress in your damp fingers, her gaze penetrates you to your core, making you involuntarily tense and bring trembling hips together. it starts to pulsate between your legs.

jimin finally exhales loudly. the heat mercilessly makes its way to your aching groin and she grabs your dress with her fingertips, exposing a strip of skin on your stomach, "look at her, so fuckin' pretty..." uchinaga only grunted in response, looking at you with interest, greedily licking her lips when her gaze fell on the bare skin of your stomach.

your arms suddenly weaken, as if a huge weight is falling on you, but jimin continues to lift your dress until you are left in just your underwear. your dress flies somewhere into the corner of the room, because now you definitely don’t need it, you feels with your skin how their eyes is crawling scrutinizingly and greedily over your trembling body, and it’s suddenly so exciting, so nervous, and you could swear that no one in your life looked at you like that, and you never felt so wanted in your life.

aeri's palms immediately find themselves on your hot cheeks, in whose eyes adoration and reverence are unmistakably discernible, "you are incredible, princess, so needy, good girl..."

jimin's palms slide over the delicate skin around the ribs and freeze under the seductive small roundness. you sucks in your stomach and sighs heavily, while your skin is covered with goosebumps from the feeling of the hot hands of both girls on your body.

uchinaga's eyes sparkle with anticipation when she inquisitively looks into your ruddy face, at the same instant, her palms carefully grasp your breasts, completely covering them, and with her thumbs she circle the wrinkled nipples, lips, at the same moment cover her sensitive nipple, pulling it deep into the mouth and rolling it between the teeth.

a long-awaited moan escaped your lips again, pressing your breasts into aeri’s face, at the same moment you felt how the lips of jimin, who was behind, left a trail of wet kisses and bites along your spine, while her hands were on your waist, holding you in her pink haired lap.

aeri impulsively squeezes the delicate skin with her fingers, and more demandingly closes her lips on the tense lump of flesh, you choke on a groan and nod desperately, squinting your eyelids and grabbing the girl’s shoulders with shaking palms, she naturally grins and impatiently places her hands on your ass, squeezing it slightly.

trembling all over and whimpering softly from sensitivity and painful sharp outbreaks from unexpected tingling sensations, you spread your legs wider and slowly lower yourself onto her exposed knee, pressing your wet crotch tightly against it and bending your lower back pliantly, "come on, sweetheart, move a little, like that... good girl."

you strains the internal muscles of your cunt, which rapidly contract, pushing out the lubricant more actively, from the girl’s approving tone and presses your groin harder into your in the hope of a long-awaited relief, you moan loudly and again sits heavily on top of the girl, responsively pushing towards her hot and demanding mouth.

aeri's breath is pounding heavily, a dull rhythm beating in her ears as she tries in vain to pull herself together, but you can only more persistently suck on your breasts and press your seductively swaying hips to yourself as tightly as possible.

you throw your head back and part your dry lips to let a quiet moan escape them, finally feeling the long-awaited climax, while yu's hands continued to hold your trembling body, helping you stay in one position, whispering in your ear in a quiet and hoarse voice about how well you did and how good you were.

her strong hands helped you get up from your knees, her strong hands helped you get up from aeri’s lap, carefully laying you on the bed, while uchinaga's hand reached into the pocket of her pants, taking out her phone from there, opening the camera app, placing it on the bedside table so that the three of you could be seen, "well, princess, let's make this night a little more fun?"

a shiver of anticipation runs down your back, and a hot wave settles between your thighs again, you whine pitifully and spread your legs further, allowing jimin's hand to slide under your underwear, she carefully pulls off her already soaked black panties from your rounded hips, she kisses the sunken belly, inhaling the faint aroma of your desire, as uchinaga positioned herself behind you, allowing you to rest your back on her, her hands slid to your breasts, squeezing them lightly, enjoying your languid sighs and needy whines.

you whine pitifully and pleadingly again, and jimin makes her way to the wet flesh, impatiently penetrating inside the delicate folds, teasing your clit with her tongue, squeezing your thighs in her hands, leaving red prints of her palms on them. your back arches when her skillful tongue touches you there, and mixed with the aeri's touches, who continued to play with your breasts, burning the tender skin of your collarbone with my breath. finally, yu’s tongue slid inside you, pushing so deeply that you couldn’t even imagine that someone could touch you there.

it only took you a few damn minutes before your back arched to the point of a crunch, and a loud moan escaped your lips, repeating the name of both girls like a mantra, pulling away from you, the black-haired girl greedily licks her lips, licking the remnants of your taste from them, which made you blush even more, "you're so delicious, it seems to me that I could eat you all the time and never get tired of it," these words made uchinaga giggle, moving his lips to your earlobe, "hey, jimin-nie, don't make our girl even more embarrassed."

just as you were about to relax, you felt the pink haired hand slide down your stomach, a slight shiver runs through her body, and she rubs the slippery spot harder with the pad of her thumb, you cry out quietly as she slowly slides into her, pushing deeper, all the way to the knuckles, you squeeze her finger with your muscles. aeri freezes with her whole body, feeling resistance, "shh, princess, relax, okay? you're doing so well..." she kisses your rosy cheek and circles her sensitive clit with her thumb.

you clearly wants to say something, but chokes on another moan and a sharp slurping thrust. now two long fingers confidently slide in you, jimin's hands held your thighs, not allowing you to close them, despite your desperate attempts to do so, "baby, everything is fine, yeah, just relax..."

after her shameless statement, you sob subtly, gently squeezing her fingers, and carefully kiss aeri on the lips, in response to which yu's lips gently kissed the back of your neck, "good girl... should we continue, huh?"

after these words you realized that the night is still damn long, and a wonderful company of two damn sexy girls and several hours of damn porn on aeri's phone awaits you...

[luciality]

iggypan

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash

Chapters 36-37

Had it been like that in the iron coffin?

Aelin gave no indication that the smothering dark bothered her, and had shown no inclination to illuminate their way. Hadn't even summoned an ember.

But the Little Folk, it seemed, had come prepared. And within heartbeats of entering the pitch-black river passage, blue light had kindled on a lantern dangling over the curved prow. Not light, not even magic. But small worms that glowed pale blue, as if they'd each swallowed the heart of a star. They'd been gathered into the lantern, and their soft light rippled over the water-smooth walls. A gentle, soothing light. At least, for her it was so.

Before Aelin had been given an ancient Faerie Queen's crown, her birthright and heritage.

The queen had stashed Mab's crown in one of their packs, as if it were no more than an extra sword belt. She hadn't spoken, and they had not asked her any questions, either.

Instead, she'd spent these past few hours sitting in the back of the boat, studying her unmarked hands, occasionally peering into the black waters beneath them. What she expected to see beyond her own rippling reflection, Elide didn’t want to know.

He'd crawled after Maeve on the beach to save Aelin. And he had found her during her escape-had ensured Aelin made it out. Did it wipe away what he'd done in summoning Maeve in the first place? Even if Maeve had set the trap, even if he hadn't known what Maeve intended for Aelin, did it erase his decision to call for her?

The last time they'd spoken as friends, it had been aboard that ship in the hours before Maeve's armada had arrived. He'd told her they needed to talk, and she'd assumed it was about their future, about them.

But perhaps he'd been about to tell her what he'd done, that he'd been wrong in acting before Aelin's plans played out. Elide stopped twisting the ring.

He'd done it for her. She knew it.

But the queen sitting silently behind them, no trace of that sharp-edged fire to be seen, nor that wicked grin she'd flashed at all who crossed her path ... Two months with a sadist. With two sadists. That had been the cost, and the burden that Aelin and all of them would bear.

That silence, that banked fire was because of him. Not entirely, but in some ways.

The collar had not been real. But the army Maeve had summoned was.

A blink into the gloom was the only indication that he was aware of her every movement. Aelin breathed in his scent, let its strength settle into her a bit deeper.

Their paths would meet again, or they would not. And if he found the final key and then brought it to her, she would pay what the gods demanded. What she owed Terrasen, the world.

Yet if Dorian chose to end it himself, to forge the Lock ... her stomach churned. He had the power. As much as she did, if not more so.

It was meant to be her sacrifice. Her blood shed to save them all. To let him claim it ... She could. She must. With Erawan no doubt unleashing himself on Terrasen, with Maeve's army likely to cause them untold grief, she could let Dorian do this. She trusted him. Even if she might never forgive herself for it. Her debt, it was supposed to have been her debt to pay.

Perhaps the punishment for failing to do so would be having to live with herself.

Having to live with all that had been done to her these months, too.

The blackness of the subterranean river pressed in, wrapped its arms around her and squeezed.

Different from the blackness of the iron box. The darkness she'd found inside herself.

A place she might never escape, not really.

Her power stirred, awakening. Aelin swallowed, refusing to acknowledge it. Heed it.

She wouldn't. Couldn't. Not yet. Until she was ready.

She had seen Rowan's face when she spoke of what his deception with the collar had prompted her to do. Had noted the way her companions looked at her, pity and fear in their eyes. At what had been done to her, what she'd become.

A new body. A foreign, strange body, as if she'd been ripped from one and shoved into another. Different from moving between her forms, somehow. She hadn't tried shifting into her human body yet. Didn't see the point.

Sitting in silence as the boat was pulled through the gloom, she felt the weight of those stares. Their dread. Felt them wondering just how broken she was.

You do not yield.

She knew that had been true—that it had been her mother's voice who had spoken and none other.

So she would not yield to this. What had been done. What remained. For the companions around her, to lift their despair, their fear, she wouldn't yield.

She'd fight for it, claw her way back to it, who she'd been before. Remember to swagger and grin and wink. She'd fight against that lingering stain on her soul, fight to ignore it. Would use this journey into the dark to piece herself back together-just enough to make it convincing.

Even if this fractured darkness now dwelled within her, even if speech was difficult, she would show them what they wished to see.

An unbroken Fire-Bringer. Aelin of the Wildfire.

She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it.

Maybe she'd one day believe it, too.

Days of near-silent travel passed.

Three days, if whatever senses Rowan and Gavriel possessed proved true. Perhaps the latter carried a pocket watch. Aelin didn't particularly care.

She used each of those days to consider what had been done, what lay before her.

Sometimes, the roar of her magic drowned out her thoughts. Sometimes it slumbered. She never heeded it.

They sailed through the darkness, the river below so black that they might as well have been drifting through Hellas's realm.

She hadn't asked him why he remained in his wolf's body. No one asked her why she remained in her Fae form, after all.

Rowan straightened, eyes sparking at her question-or at the fact that she'd spoken at all.

He'd kept by her these days, a silent, steady presence. Even when they'd slept, he'd remained a few feet away, still not touching, but just there. Close enough that the pine-and-snow scent of him eased her into slumber.

Silence at the order, even from Rowan. Aelin pointed to the lip of shore by the cave mouth. "Stop the boat," she repeated.

The queen had been reckless before Cairn and Maeve had worked on her for two months, but it seemed she'd had any bit of common sense flayed from her.

"Well, I don’t have any, so forgive me if I remain alert." No, she'd once told him that while magic flowed in the Lochan bloodline, she had none to speak of. He'd never told her that he'd always considered her cleverness to be a mighty magic on its own, regardless of Anneith's whisperings.

"It will take time for her to readjust."

She stared at him with those damning eyes.

He braced his forearms on his knees. "We got her back. She's with us now. What more do you want?" From me, He didn't need to add Elide straightened.

Elide straightened. "I don't want anything." From you.

This was where they'd have it out, then. "How much longer am I supposed to atone?"

"Are you growing bored with it?" He snarled.

She only glared at him. "I hadn't realized you were even atoning."

"I came here, didn't I?"

"For whom, exactly? Rowan? Aelin?"

"For both of them. And for you." There. Let it be laid before them.

"I told you on that beach: I want nothing to do with you."

"So one mistake and I am your eternal enemy?"

"She is my queen, and you summoned Maeve, then told her where the keys were, and you stood there while they did that to her."

"You have no idea what the blood oath can do. None."

"Fenrys broke the oath. He found a way."

"And had Aelin not been there to offer him another, he would have died." He let out a low, joyless laugh. "Perhaps that's what you would have preferred."

She ignored his last comment. "You didn't even try."

"I did," he snarled. "I fought it with everything I had. And it was not enough. If she'd ordered me to slit your throat, I would have. And if I had found a way to break the oath, I would have died, and she might very well have killed you or taken you afterward. On that beach, my only thought was to get Maeve to forget about you, to let you go-"

"I don't care about me! I didn't care about me on that beach!"

"Well, I do."

This was what came of opening that door to a place inside him that no one had ever breached. This mess, this hollowness in his chest that made him keep needing to make things right.

"Resent me all you like," he said, damning the hoarseness of his words. "I'm sure I'll survive."

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "Fine," she said, her voice brittle.

He hated that brittleness more than anything he'd ever encountered. Hated himself for causing it. But he had limits to how low he'd crawl.

He'd said his piece. If she wanted to wash her hands of him forever, then he would find a way to respect that. Live with it.

Somehow.

Gratitude shone in her eyes.

Rowan only gave her a nod. Don't worry about it.

Yet Aelin turned away, shutting off that silent conversation as she surveyed the space.

Time. It would take time for her to heal.

Even if he knew his Fireheart would pretend otherwise.

So, Rowan looked, too. Across the tomb, beyond the sarcophagus and treasure, an archway opened into another chamber. Perhaps another tomb, or an exit passage.

"We don't have time to find a way out,"

Rowan murmured as she strode into the tomb.

"And the caves remain safer than the surface."

"I'm not looking for a way out," she said in that calm, unmoved voice. She stooped, swiping up a fistful of gold coins stamped with forgotten king's face. "We're going to need to fund our travels. And the gods know what else." Rowan arched a brow. Aelin shrugged and shoved the gold into the pocket of her cloak. "Unless the pitiful clinking I heard from your coin purse didn't indicate you were low on funds."

That spark of wry humor, the taunting … She was trying. For his sake, or the others' maybe her own, she was trying.

Rowan gave the Lion a slashing grin. "You heard the lady."

A flash ruptured from where Fenrys had been sniffing at a trunk of jewels, and then a male was standing there. His gray clothes worn, but intactin better shape than the hollowed-out look in his eyes.

Aelin paused her looting.

Fenrys's throat bobbed, as if trying to remember speech. Then he said hoarsely, "We needed more pockets." He patted his own for emphasis.

Aelin's lips curved in a hint of a smile. She blinked at Fenrys—three times.

Fenrys blinked once in answer.

A code. They'd made up some silent code to communicate when he'd been ordered to remain in his wolf form.

Aelin's smile remained, just barely, as she walked to the golden-haired male, his bronze skin ashen. She opened her arms in silent offer.

To let him decide if he wished for contact. If he could endure it.

Just as Rowan would let her decide if she wished to touch him.

A small sigh broke from Fenrys before he folded Aelin into his arms, a shudder rippling through him. Rowan couldn't see her face, perhaps didn't need to, as her hands gripped Fenrys's jacket, so tightly they were white-knuckled.

A good sign—a small miracle, that either of them wished, could be touched. Rowan reminded himself of it, even while some intrinsic, male part of him tensed at the contact.

A territorial Fae bastard, she'd once called him. He'd do his best not to live up to that title.

"Thank you," Aelin said, her voice small in a way that made Rowan's chest crack further.

Fenrys didn't answer, but from the anguish on his face, Rowan knew no thanks were in order.

They pulled away, and Fenrys cupped her cheek. "When you are ready, we can talk."

About what they'd endured. To unravel all that had happened.

Aelin nodded, blowing out a breath. "Likewise."

She resumed shoving gold into her pockets, but glanced back to Fenrys, his face drawn. "I gave you the blood oath to save your life," she said. "But if you do not want it, Fenrys, I ... we can find some way to free you—"

"I want it," Fenrys said, no trace of his usual swaggering humor. He glanced to Rowan, and bowed his head. "It is my honor to serve this court. And serve you," he added to Aelin.

She waved a hand in dismissal, though Rowan didn't fail to note the sheen in her eyes as she stooped to gather more gold. Giving her a moment, he strode to Fenrys and clasped his shoulder. "It's good to have you back." He added, stumbling a bit on the word, "Brother." For that's what they would be. Had never been before, but what Fenrys had done for Aelin .. Yes, brother was what Rowan would call him. Even if Fenrys's own—

Fenrys's dark eyes flickered. "She killed Connall. Made him stab himself in the heart." A pearl-and-ruby necklace scattered from Gavriel's fingers.

The temperature in the tomb spiked, but there was no flash of flame, no swirl of embers.

As if Aelin's magic had surged, only to be leashed again.

Yet Aelin continued shoving gold and jewels into her pockets.

She'd witnessed it, too. That slaughter.

But it was Gavriel, approaching on silent feet even with the jewels and gold on the floor, who clasped Fenrys's other shoulder. "We will make sure that debt is paid before the end." The Lion had never uttered such words not toward their former queen. But fury burned in Gavriel's tawny gaze. Sorrow and fury.

Fenrys took a steadying breath and stepped away, the loss on his face mingling with something Rowan couldn't place. But now wasn't the time to ask, to pry.

Aelin continued picking her way amongst the treasure, however. She'd been more selective than the rest of them, examining pieces with what Rowan had assumed was a jeweler's eye. The gods knew she'd owned enough finery to tell what would fetch the highest price at market.

"We should go," he said. His own pockets were near to bursting, his every step weighed down.

She rose from a rusted metal chest she'd been riffling through.

Rowan remained still as she approached, something clenched in her palm. It was only when she stopped close enough for him to touch her that she unfurled her fingers.

Two golden rings lay there.

"I don't know the Fae customs," she said.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. "But when humans wed, rings are exchanged." Her fingers trembled-just slightly. Too many unspoken words lay between them. Yet now was not the time for that conversation, for that healing.

Not when they had to be on their way as swiftly as possible, and this offer she'd made him, this proof that she still wanted what lay between them, the vows they'd sworn ...

"I assume the sparkly emerald is for me," Rowan said with a half smile.

She huffed a laugh. The soft, whispered sound was as precious as the rings she'd found for them in this hoard. She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow.

Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. "To whatever end," he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end." A reminder-and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they'd sworn on that ship.

To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I'll make the tattoo again." She swallowed, but nodded. "And," he added, "I'd like to add another. To me—and to you."

Her brows flicked up, but he squeezed her hand. You'll have to wait and see, Princess.

Another hint of a smile. She didn't balk from the silent words this time. Typical.

He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been dying to ask for days now. May I kiss you? But she pulled her hand from his.

Admiring the wedding band sparkling on her finger, her mouth tightened as she turned over her palm. "I'll need to retrain."

Not a single callus marked her hands.

Aelin frowned at her too-thin body. "And pack on some muscle again." A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. "It'll be just like old times."

Trying. She was dredging up that swagger and trying. So he would, too. Until she didn't need to any more.

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. "Just like old times," he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, "but with far less sleep."

He could have sworn the passageway heated. But Aelin kept going.

Later. That conversation, this unfinished business between them, would come later.

[dutybcrne]

The fact that Tartaglia is outright stated to have been running away from home the day he got lost in the Abyss got me THINKING,,,

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

As Rayman began pleading to his aunt for assistance, they would see The First King enter with a sealed envelope in hand. He rushes over to her and hands it off to Fee.

"My deepest apologies for the interruption, my lady. A letter from your sister, Betilla has just arrived. The courier stated that it's urgent and I think it's in relation to why Rayman and Raymona have come here so suddenly."

"Ah! Give me a minute to read this."

Voodoo Mama would thank The First King and permitted him to go. She took a moment to read the letter over and gave a laugh.

"Letters never arrive on time here, no matter how hard your mother tries. Better late than never though.

So you need me to lend my power to Raymona to prevent her from overexerting herself while trying to create this ingredient that Demona is lacking. What is that missing piece if I may ask?"

"From my understanding of it, light. She's purely a creature of dark and nightmare. Without any aspect of light in her weaving, she's a feral nightmare.

The only way I can think of to fuse that light into her system now that she's been fully weaved is through the use of a lum."

"There has never been a lum in existence that can harness the raw element of light itself. The only thing that ever came close was the magical power of a silver lum. It sounds like you may be trying to create a very unique one. Perhaps the first super silver lum in existence.

I'll do it. As long as you promise me you'll take good care of that lum, Rayman. Even if we give her our power, she may still need to sleep at the snoring tree for a while. The lum will need a protector and a caretaker since it won't have it's mother around to do that for her."

The hero just listened to his girlfriend as she spoke and waved at Polokus before he saw the buble waiting for them, yes he can not only visit his aunt but also talk about everything.

Once the hero started to use his helicopter hair, he then felt like his speed increased, and now he know why... It was Raymona that was using her fairy flight, he could just allow her to carry him to the temple of his aunt.

Landing at the door, and greeting the First King with his own bow. When The dead Teensie told that he wasn't expecting them, then he tilted his head, didn't his mother sent the letters ﹖or were they too fast ﹖ 𝐎𝐡 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

When Fee de la Mort appeared he smiled to his aunt hugging her and looking up at her, now it was time to say the truth,

“ 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎, 𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝙵𝚎𝚎... 𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊, 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎. 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚁𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚞𝚜... 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎. ”

Begged Rayman to his aunt as he explained everything to her. The why they need her help.

[odoraful]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

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ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.