#never the twins shall meet

[neverthetwinsshallmeet]

You know I don’t think I ever shared the meme I made about my personal distinction between Legends of Tomorrow Constantine and Hellblazer Constantine but I think it’s funny so here you go

[littledovesnow]

a growing family | part 4

a/n: the finale!!!! i had so much fun with this mini series, i hope you love it!

warnings: childbirth (but traumatic), idk... hospitals? inaccurate medical stuff (i worked in a hospital but i don't know shit about medicine!!!!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-----

Following a few Peacekeepers back to the train, you and Coriolanus talked softly about the conclusion of the tour.

“How did you like to see my old stomping grounds?” He asked, referring to the quick stop you two had made in the Hob so you could use the restroom.

“It certainly looks like the place that could draw a crowd.” You smiled, thanking the Peacekeeper as he helped you into the train.

Coriolanus walked dutifully as you more-so waddled down the aisle to the private car. “Are you feeling okay?”

He had noticed you taking more breaks while walking, discomfort on your face.

Nodding, you toed off your shoes and lounged with your feet on the opposite bench, letting your husband rub them once more. “Just ready to get these babies out of me. I feel like a beached whale.”

Coriolanus laughed, looking out the window as the train began the two-day journey back to the Capitol. “I’m sure they’re excited to be out in the world, have more space to move.”

You snorted, letting your head roll back and lean against the plush booth. “How long do you think we have until they come?”

“A couple more weeks, I hope. It’s still a little early.” Coriolanus chuckled as you let out a moan when he got a particularly rough knot out of your foot. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight, my love?”

You two continued the conversation while you both watched the trees go by, content in your last days alone.

-----

The following morning, you woke before your husband, smile coming to your face when you saw the Capitol’s skyline in the distance.

Slowly rising from the bed, you paused for a moment when the world went off-kilter.

You stood and walked over to the exit of the private car, moving into the dining one for something to drink, never understanding why your mouth was so dry when traveling on the train.

 “Goodmorning, ma’am. How are you feeling?” A Peacekeeper asked, soft smile on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tired. How about yourself?” You replied, eying the mug of coffee with envy.

You two kept a quiet conversation until the door opened once more, Coriolanus entering the car.

“You could’ve woken me; I would’ve gotten you something to drink.” He chastised, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled as the Peacekeeper left to give you and Coriolanus some privacy. “Coryo, I’m going to be holed up in a bed for weeks in a few days, let me get movement while I still can.”

Coriolanus tsked as he looked over what would be served for breakfast shortly, smile coming to his face when you pulled his free hand into your own, fiddling with his wedding band. “How are the babies doing?”

Shrugging, you looked out the window as the snow-capped mountains drew nearer. “They’re getting anxious, certainly hope they’re both in the correct position now.”

Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he hummed in agreement, not wanting you to experience surgery if it could be avoided. “We shall see, you’re meeting with the doctor the day after tomorrow, correct?”

Nodding, you sipped the tea that was placed in front of you. “Unless I go into labor beforehand.”

The elephant in the room was finally mentioned, and Coriolanus’ frown returned.

“Coryo, you know as well as I do that there’s a high possibility we’ll become parents before the end of the week. I want as much as you do to wait until it’s safer, closer to the due date, but twins come early a lot.”

Nodding, the blonde took a long sip of his coffee. “As long as you’re all okay, that’s all that matters.”

-----

You woke to a loud screech, groaning into Coriolanus’ chest as the train stopped moving, stationed back at the Capitol.

“Good morning, welcome home.” Coriolanus whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning, Coryo.”

Both of you getting up, albeit you at a slower pace than Coriolanus, there was a small crowd cheering when you two disembarked the train, publicity-trained smiles on both of your faces.

Several reporters for the Capitol News had come to the station, vying for questions about the tour and wondering it’s success.

You sucked in a breath while Coriolanus spoke with Lucky Flickerman, keeping your face neutral as you interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, Lucky, but Coriolanus and I have prior engagements we need to get to.”

Coriolanus sent you a look as you dragged him away from the cameras. He leaned down to ask you a question, voice soft to keep it off of the microphones. “What are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, you sent him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been in labor since four this morning. We’re going to the hospital.”

-----

You groaned in pain as your OB/GYN walked into the room, smile on her face. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, my dear.”

“Well, we like to keep you on your toes.” You grumbled, letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated.

“Where’s Coriolanus? I expected him to be stationed next to you the entire time.”

Laughing, you watched as the doctor put some bands over the bump to monitor the twins. “He stepped out to call Tigris and my mother. He should be back shortly.”

Moving to examine you, you looked on the monitor to watch the babies’ heartbeats.

Coriolanus re-entered the room soon after the examination ended, smiling at the doctor when he noticed her, though when he saw the tears brimming on your lash line his smile dropped. “What happened?”

“Baby B is still in a breech position, we’re going to have to do a C-section.”

At the doctor’s repeated explanation, Coriolanus was next to you in an instant, clasping your hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay, dove. You’ve got wonderfully trained doctors, the best in all of Panem, you’ll be fine.”

It felt like a whirlwind while you were being prepped for surgery, contractions getting worse as time went on.

Coriolanus stood next to you, wanting nothing more than to help take the pain away, willing the pain away.

“Mr. Snow, we’ll be going to operating room shortly. We don’t normally allow this, but you are able to sit in the surgery with us. Meet your children.”

You frantically looked up at Coriolanus, nodding rapidly. “Please, please Coryo. I need you, I can’t- I don’t want to do this alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, allowing himself to be layered in the sterile gown and booties, nerves skyrocketing as if he was the one on the table. “You’ll be okay, my love. It’s going to be okay.”

There was an oxygen cannula pressed against your face, IV into your arm, short curtain set up on top of you, inhibiting your view of the doctors at your other end.

Coriolanus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, salty with the sweat still beading along your skin.

You felt the pinprick of a local anesthetic, the sounds of medical instruments being picked up and jostled, and the low voices of the surgeons and doctors birthing your children.

“You doing good up there, Mrs. Snow?” One of the surgeons asked, glancing up at your stats.

You nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Alright, let’s meet Baby Number One.” Your OB/GYN smiled, and a piercing cry erupted into the room. “Welcome to the world, Little Girl Snow.”

“A girl, we have a girl, Coryo.” You looked over at Coriolanus, ignoring the pressure in your head.

“We have a girl, love.” Coriolanus smiled, tears threatening to spill over.

You heard one of the machines behind you beeping more incessantly, the voices of the doctors growing muffled and distant.

“Coryo, some-something’s wrong. I feel- something is wrong.” You mumbled, words slurring.

Coriolanus felt his heart drop onto the floor at your admission, head snapping to the doctors who had started to rapidly soaking blood up, and he could pick out a few phrases from their rapid chatter, the words “obstetric hemorrhage” sending chills down his body.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on with my wife?” Coriolanus yelled, terror on his face.

“Mr. Snow, you’re going to have to head to the waiting room.” A nurse spoke, ushering him out of the operating room.

He saw one of the doctors pressing his fingers onto the second baby’s chest, while a handful of other surgeons and doctors focused on you, and Coriolanus had never felt fear quite like this.

-----

Four hours had passed since you were ripped from Coriolanus’ sight, four hours since he last saw his children. “A boy and a girl, Mr. Snow. Congratulations.” The nurse had said, smile on her face.

How she could smile in the face of a man whose wife could be dead, he’ll never know.

Coriolanus’ knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he awaited any news on your state, on the babies, on anything.

“Mr. Snow?”

His head shot up when he heard a soft voice call his name, and he saw a nurse approaching, hesitant smile on his face.

“Is my wife okay?” He asked, eyes frantic.

Nodding, the nurse lead him to a private room, away from any prying eyes. “Mrs. Snow is stable. She experienced a large quantity of blood loss during the birth, but with some transfusions, she is stable and should wake up shortly.”

Nodding, Coriolanus let out a sigh. “The babies? Are they- can I see them?”

The nurse paused, and Coriolanus saw a tick in her jaw.

“What’s wrong with my children?”

“The boy, I’m not sure if you’ve decided on names yet, but the boy will need to be monitored for a few weeks here. His lungs weren’t as developed as his sister’s, but with some supplemental oxygen and time, he should be a fighter.”

“My daughter, is she okay?”

“Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Snow?”

The nurse lead him to the nursery, motioning for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. “Newborns do best with skin-to-skin, if you unbutton your shirt, I can place her on your chest.”

Coriolanus quickly undid the buttons, ignoring the nurse’s gasp at the few bruises on his chest from back on the train, and gently placed the newborn in his arms.

The baby was smaller than he expected, having never held a newborn before, but he felt enamored by her, by his daughter. Already, he was wrapped around her little finger, wanting nothing more than to give her the world.

“She has her mother’s eyes.” Coriolanus whispered, soft smile on his face as he rocked slowly in the chair.

Looking up at the nurse, Coriolanus asked about you, when you would be awake and ready to meet the twins.

“It’s hard to say, some mothers wake up shortly after birthing. Others, ones who had complications not unlike your wife, it can be a few hours to days before they wake. Rest assured, your wife is being monitored closely, and you will be able to bring your daughter to meet her mother.”

Coriolanus nodded, blinking back the few tears that threatened to leak.

He was thankful you two had decided to have the hospital facility to sign NDA contracts, not wanting his soft side to be released to the public.

“I’ll let you two bond, just press that green button when you need anything.”

Coriolanus thanked her, looking down at the small baby in arms.

“Welcome to the world, little one. You and your brother aren’t going to have to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure of it.”

-----

Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror of your hospital room’s bathroom. The man staring back at him did not look like the Coriolanus Snow who was on the presidential election posters that were recently debuted to the public.

No, the man staring back at Coriolanus had greasy, unkempt hair, stubble popping up along his face, and bags under his eyes. Tigris had stopped in with a change of clothing and something to eat, knowing her cousin wouldn’t eat if it meant leaving your side.

The twins were recovering well, the boy’s lungs growing stronger with each passing day.

You were now Coriolanus’ top priority, you still haven’t woken from the emergency surgery and complications from days prior.

The doctors were unsure of why you hadn’t woken yet, speculating your body needed more rest than you let on, the tour taking a toll on your body.

Coriolanus walked back to the chair on the side of your bed, cracking his neck as he sat down and took your hand in his.

“The babies are doing well, doctor’s speculate we’ll be able to take them home in a few days. We have to name them first, and I know we decided on what to call them, but it feels wrong to sign the certificates without you there.”

The blonde man had taken to talking about his day, explaining things the twins were doing, hoping you would wake up and respond to his ramblings.

The only response he got was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the only thing keeping Coriolanus sane.

A knock on the door drew Coriolanus out of his stupor, tight smile coming to his lips when he saw Tigris.

“How is she?” The older Snow asked, dropping a small box of baked goods on the table next to your bed.

“The same.” Coriolanus croaked, voice raw from the nights he spent crying, hoping you didn’t suffer the same end that his mother did.

It was as if Tigris could hear his inner monologue, as she hugged her cousin tightly. “She won’t be like your mom, she’s going to wake up, and she’s going to raise those babies down the hall, and she’s going to be your First Lady.”

Coriolanus nodded, dam breaking as tears escaped his eyes, racing down his chin to meet each other.

-----

Two weeks after you had become parents, Coriolanus had to make an appearance in public to show the Capitol he was still strong, and he would be Panem’s next president.

He was sitting next to Lucky Flickerman, answering lukewarm questions and entertaining the premise that he was running on a full night’s sleep, not the coffees he had been all-but bathing in.

While the show was at a break, one of the Capitol News associates came over to the two men, serious look on his face. “Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus looked over to him, Lucky frowning that his story had been interrupted.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve just gotten a call from a Tigris Snow? She said that you’re needed at the Capitol Medical Center urgently.”

Coriolanus felt the blood rush to his ears as he left the station without a single look back, commanding his driver to what had become his second home at this point.

-----

Footfalls echoing off the walls, Coriolanus’ eyes were wide as he turned the corner and entered the room that had become familiar over the last weeks, the room seemingly brighter when he saw your smiling face back at him.

“Love.” Coriolanus sighed, rushing to your side, kissing you as if he was starved.

You kissed back just as eagerly, only breaking the kiss when you felt your stitches pull. “Hi, Coryo.”

“Hi, dove.”  

-----

a/n: the end <3 maybe you'll see this beautiful family in some future fics!

[sapphire-writes]

Pretty Little Thing

summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge

word count: 7.2k

note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

—

Be there soon.

Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.

You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.

“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”

Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.

Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped. 

You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you. 

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits. 

They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.

That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes. 

You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in. 

“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.

Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.

“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said. 

Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.

“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”

Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown. 

“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”

“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat. 

“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”

“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.” 

You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.

“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”

“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”

A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.

“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”

His face flashes through your mind before you can help it. 

“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway. 

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.

“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.

“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”

Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.

He never takes it off.

Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.

Aegon loves a good party.

Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment. 

Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious. 

“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.” 

—

You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape. 

“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”

“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”

She’s telling the truth. 

“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.

Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.

Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you. 

You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast. 

If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids. 

The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head. 

Only it isn’t her.

Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.

He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?” 

You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.

Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites. 

One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.

Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there. 

However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus. 

“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you. 

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh. 

Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”

“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk. 

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”

“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.

You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code. 

“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.

“Yikes.”

So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her. 

“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips. 

“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply. 

Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette. 

“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”

You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”

His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”

“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”

You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones. 

“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers. 

There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach. 

“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.

“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”

You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you. 

“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.

You haven’t.

“The what?” 

“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.

“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”

“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”

Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut. 

The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out. 

“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”

“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice. 

“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.

“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there. 

Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more. 

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel. 

“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”

You cross your hands over your chest. 

“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.” 

You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs. 

The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.

It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse. 

She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers. 

As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter. 

“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach. 

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!” 

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”

Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes. 

“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila. 

You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.

Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.

“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it. 

Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms. 

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are. 

“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes. 

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose. 

The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence. 

“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”

“It was an accident!”

“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”

You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home. 

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth. 

You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly. 

Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.

“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door. 

You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.

“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.

Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame. 

“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.

“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side. 

“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning. 

Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.

“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips. 

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs. 

“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.” 

Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.

“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows. 

You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.

He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.

“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”

You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.

“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.

Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”

“It’s cold.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”

“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly. 

Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes. 

His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining. 

“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes. 

“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer. 

He just wants to hear you say it, you realize. 

Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers. 

“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”

Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own. 

“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.

“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs. 

Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.

Riiiip!

“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”

“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?” 

Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.

“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly. 

“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”

“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.

“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.” 

Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button. 

Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you. 

Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.

“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”

His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.

You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty. 

You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted. 

His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away. 

Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you. 

His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you. 

You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you. 

Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.

“Stop, stop, please.”

“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue. 

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”

“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.

You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.

“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching. 

“I don’t—”

“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”

“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”

“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.” 

“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”

You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands. 

“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”

With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him. 

His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”

Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”

“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”

Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack. 

“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”

A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears. 

Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal. 

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins. 

His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release. 

It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.

No other man has made you finish before.

“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”

Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”

“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”

“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you. 

Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours. 

His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more. 

“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”

His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking. 

The music downstairs has died.

“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.

“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”

So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand. 

“There you go,” he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head. 

Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction. 

“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release. 

“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it. 

Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing. 

Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.

“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.

The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.

“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.

“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”

“For you maybe.”

Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze. 

Not tonight.

“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.

“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look. 

“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”

Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites. 

Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye. 

There’s something new there. Almost possessive. 

His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

Outside, snow begins to fall.

[sincerelyyuu]

"in the end, it's still you." p2. • gojo satoru & geto suguru

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: you never thought the day would come where you would have to choose between your two best friends. but how do you say goodbye to someone who became one of your reasons for living? ➼ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru x fem!reader ➼ content/warning: angst with tons of pining and heartbreak, sfw, heavy s2 spoilers, pet names, cursing, mentions of death ➼ wc: 3.1k words ➼ a/n: here's the anticipated part two of this fic! can definitely read this part on its own as a standalone, but highly recommend reading part one for the full angst effect ♡ ➼ part one, part two, part three

You didn’t know how you got here. 

One minute you were on a mission. The next minute you were a fugitive on the run.

When Suguru and you left for the village, you didn’t expect to be standing in front of a caged cell that held two little girls. They were twins and looked to be no more than the age of five. Crouching down to match their eye level, you saw just how disheveled and scared they were between the bars. Clothes tattered, skin covered in dirt, eyes wide with fear. How cruel.

“Hello. I’m (y/n). That’s my friend Suguru,” you introduced softly, not wanting to spook them. Suguru nodded at them in greeting with a smile. “What are your names?”

“Nanako,” the light brown haired twin answered in a near whisper.

“Mimiko,” her black haired twin counterpart responded after.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you smiled, leaning closer to them to whisper so that only they could hear. “Let’s get you out of here quickly, yeah?”

The girls looked back at you with surprise before a small smile appeared on their faces, nodding. You and Suguru were the first people to show them any form of kindness in this village. Unfortunately, their happiness was short-lived.

“These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers, right?” a male villager accused them both.

Furrowing your brows, you exchange glances with Suguru who shared the same sentiments as you. You both had already exterminated the cause of those incidents when you arrived.

“No, it’s not them,” Suguru exhaled, a hand on his head as he massaged his temple in disdain.

Ignoring his words, an older woman added more fuel to the fire, “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two, too!” 

Nanako defended, “That’s because she-”

“Shut up, you monsters! I knew we should have killed you two as babies!”

“Watch your mouth,” you snapped, maneuvering your body to shield the twins from the vile woman. The girls immediately sought refuge behind you.

You couldn’t believe the words coming from them openly talking about killing the girls when they were sitting right there. You felt so sorry for the two. Based on what the villagers were saying, these poor children most likely hadn’t received an ounce of love in their lives. Instead they were treated like animals.

It was just like you to put yourself in harm's way to protect others with no hesitation. It was one of the reasons that made Suguru fall in love with you. It didn’t come as a surprise to him to see Nanako and Mimiko already taking a liking to you. 

Looking at the three of you, something in Suguru snapped. Lowering beside you, he offered you a gentle smile.

“Do me a favor. Once I step out, let the girls out and cover their ears. Stay here. I’ll come back for you three when I’m done,” he instructed.

“What? Why?” you asked in confusion. “Sugu… What are you about to do?”

He ruffled your hair playfully. “I’ll be right back. Now be a good girl for me.”

You looked at him wearily. There was something different about him right now that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You also didn’t like how vague he was being. Still, you hesitantly agreed. Satisfied, Suguru stood up to face the villagers in the room.

“Everyone, shall we step outside for a moment?” he asked, a sickeningly sweet smile gracing his face. 

You were prepared for when you successfully freed the girls from their confines with Mimiko and Nanako instantly falling into your awaiting arms. Instructing them to cover their ears, you held them close and placed your hands behind their heads, letting them rest their faces against your chest.

“It’s okay, I got you. You’re safe now,” you promised them. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

What you weren’t prepared for was the fiery blue flames that illuminated the village and the screams that ensued after.

A few days later, it was a beautiful day in Shinjuku. People were going on about their business as they maneuvered among the busy streets. The air was full of chatter with the hustle and bustle of city life. 

“I’ll go ahead and ask. Any chance the charges are false?” Shoko inquires with a smile.

Suguru shakes his head at the female sorcerer, “Nope. Unfortunately not.”

Shoko takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing white whips of smoke that dissipate into the air. “You know what, I can expect you to be able to pull off this kind of thing. But did you really have to drag (y/n) with you too? Where is she anyway?”

Suguru fights the urge to grin at the mention of your name. Crossing his arms, he peers up at the clouds drifting across the azure sky. “She’s-”

“-right here.”

The two turned their heads at the sound of your voice as you approached them, a bag full of pastries in tow. You waved shyly at Shoko who was relieved to see you unharmed. You were one of the few female friends that she had at school. It came as a big surprise to her when she heard the news of your shared sentence with Suguru. It didn’t seem like you to commit mass murder. Then again, neither did Geto.

“There’s Ms. Partner-in-crime. I was just about to ask Geto why this little situation came to be,” Shoko filled you in.

You shift awkwardly in place, unable to find the right words to respond. Sensing your discomfort, Suguru swiftly answers back, “I’m going to create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers. (y/n) here is the lucky girl who gets to help me.”

“Is that so?” the brunette laughs. “I don’t get it.”

“We’re not children. I’m not holding out hope that everyone will understand,” Suguru responds. He glances over at you as you stare into the crowd and zone out of the conversation. As long as you were beside him, he didn’t care if no one else understood. At least he had you.

Shoko whipped out her cell and promptly entered a series of numbers before placing it to her ear. “Hey, Gojo? I found Geto and (y/n). Yeah, Shinjuku.”

Hearing Satoru’s name, your body immediately went into flight mode. Breath quickening, heartbeat accelerating, and anxiety swirling in your stomach. You felt like throwing up. You knew it was inevitable to see him when Suguru suggested going to Shinjuku for the day under the guise of buying treats for Nanako and Mimiko. But you weren’t sure you were ready to see him yet. What could you possibly even say to him after what happened?

Before your thoughts could spiral even more, you felt a warm hand slip into your left and the pastry bag removed from your right. Looking up, Suguru didn’t make eye contact with you, only squeezing your hand in reassurance. He always had a sixth sense for how you were feeling.

“Excuse us but we have somewhere to be. Goodbye, Shoko,” Suguru waves at her nonchalantly as if it were any other ordinary day and like he’d see her in class tomorrow.

She waves back and turns to make eye contact with you, an unreadable expression on her face. Before you could analyze it, Suguru gently tugs on your hand and leads you away with him and into the bustling crowd of Shinjuku. The two of you walked for a few minutes in silence before a familiar voice reached your ears.

“Explain yourselves.”

Stopping in your tracks, you felt a lump form in your throat. Your nails dug into Suguru’s hand, leaving red crescents upon his pale skin. Suguru tried not to flinch at the pain. He knew that this moment would be hard for you.

After receiving Shoko’s call, Satoru wasted no time and immediately teleported to Shinjuku in search of his two best friends. All he can think of is, why?  Why would you both do this? It didn’t make any sense. He needed answers and he wasn’t stopping until he got them. 

Among the sea of people, his eyes searched and searched until it finally landed on one of his targets. He didn’t need to see your face to know that it was you. After all, he had engrained every detail of you into his mind from the way you looked to the way you moved. Your name lingered on his lips, longing to call for you.

“You already heard from Shoko, right?” Suguru answered him back without turning around. “That’s all there is to it.”

Unhappy with his response, Satoru felt his blood begin to boil in anger. “So you’re just going to kill everyone that isn’t a sorcerer? Even your parents?”

Maybe it was the way your heartbeat was beating so loudly in your ears, but you could barely hear what the two men were saying despite being right there. You knew they were exchanging words but your mind refused to process them. Instead it focused on the way Satoru’s voice was plagued in confusion and betrayal. You and Suguru, his two closest friends, had betrayed him without a word.

“You’re going to kill all non-sorcerers and create a world of only jujutsu sorcerers? You know that���s impossible!” you heard Satoru bellow from behind you. 

“You could do it, couldn’t you, Satoru?” the black haired sorcerer retorted back, now facing the enraged male. “Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or does being the strongest make you Gojo Satoru?”

You felt a chill go down your spine from Suguru’s cold tone so different from the honey one he always used towards you. Was this the Suguru you’ve known until now? But then you remembered everything Suguru had gone through up until this point. Swallowing disgusting curse after curse with nothing to show for it for himself. Watching his friends and comrades die in front of him. You understood the shift in Suguru’s beliefs. 

That being said, you also understood where Satoru was coming from. You knew deep down that this wasn’t right. Innocent lives were taken to create a world that may not even be possible. However, there wasn’t anything you could do about it now. You were in too deep and if this was the hill you’ll die on, so be it. 

Frustrated with the conversation with Suguru, Satoru knew there was no changing that man’s mind. Suguru had zero regrets and had every intention of carrying out his new life goal. Shifting his focus to you, Satoru felt the anger clouding his vision slowly diminish, a sense of yearning overwhelming his senses.

His voice dropped to a low cry as he called out to you, “(y/n)...”

The moment your name left his lips, a wave of guilt settled into the pit of your stomach. You wish he hadn’t done that. In a perfect world, you would have turned around and ran into those strong arms that have held and protected you more times than you can count. You felt your resolve chipping away piece by piece.

But this world was far from perfect. You can never go back to the way things were. Still, you owed it to Satoru to properly say goodbye because you weren’t sure when you’ll ever see him again. 

You took a deep breath and stepped to turn around. Halfway through your turn, you felt Suguru’s grip on your hand tighten, looking at you in confusion and slight alarm. Were you changing your mind and leaving him? However, his tense shoulders eased when you squeezed his hand back in reassurance, communicating with your eyes that you weren’t going anywhere. Nodding his head, he let go of you.

What the fuck? Satoru thought to himself.

Watching the scene unfold between you two, he felt an insecure stinging pierce in his chest. His six eyes bored holes at your interlocked hands. An unsettling feeling gnawed at him at the fond look in Suguru’s eyes which stared directly into your own. It was the same way Satoru looked at you. 

Fuck. His best friend, Geto Suguru, was also madly in love with you.

“Satoru.”

Satoru could almost cry hearing you call his name. You took a few steps towards him, maintaining eye contact as you did so. He also took a step towards you but immediately halted when you raised your hand up to stop him from getting any closer. Standing a few feet from each other now in silence, you felt your heart break at the sight of your once confident best friend who now looked so small in your presence.

“...Why?” he asked, the tension growing thick in the air.

Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you replied, “You don’t understand-”

“Then, make me understand!” Satoru shouted.

Storming directly to you, he stopped so that he stood inches away from your figure. One more step and he could pull you to him and away from whatever this was. It would be so easy. He stood before you with his infinity off, silently granting you the opportunity to reach out for him. He never had it on whenever he was with you. He trusted you to let his guard down because you made him feel safe.

Satoru continued to interrogate you as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.  “(y/n), I know you. I know you didn’t lift a finger to kill any of those people. You would never take the life of another if they didn’t deserve it. So, why are you doing this?”

“I can talk to the elders. I can convince them to reverse your sentence because you didn’t do anything. They’ll listen to me,” he begged you, voice quickening with every line. 

“Is it because I’m away all the time? I’ll stop taking on more missions or have them assign you with me. Just come home.”

He was beginning to ramble now as he felt himself grow more desperate to keep you. Satoru was never the type to get down on his knees for anyone except you. 

Throughout the years, he fell for you hard. You had the power to render him weak with just your smile, the air leaving his lungs at the way you took his breath away. Your calming presence grounded him and brought him back to reality whenever things became too intense. It was the way you understood his thoughts and feelings before he even knew of them. You held his heart in the palm of your hands and right now you were completely destroying him.

Against your better judgment, you caressed the left side of Satoru’s face. The man immediately leaned into your hand as he melted at your touch, placing his hand over yours and seeking your affection. Brilliant blue eyes filled with anguish met your sorrowful ones. 

“Toru,” you smiled bittersweetly at him. “I can’t. The moment I go back, they’d kill me in a heartbeat. It’s too late for me. At least this way I’ll be protecting you.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m the one that’s supposed to be protecting you,” he argued back. “Sweets, this is insanity. You can’t possibly be okay with this. Do you honestly agree with him and this crazy non-sorcerer world bullshit?”

You let your hand fall from his face, watching him grimace from the action. “It doesn’t matter what I think. What’s done is done. I made a promise to Suguru that I’d be there for him.”

Satoru scowled, “And what about me, (y/n)? Don’t you see that you’re hurting me?”

That wasn’t fair. How do you explain to him that you were doing what you thought was best? As the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Satoru will always have a community rallying behind him. Suguru had no one. You didn’t want Suguru to live a lonely life alone. You cared too much about him. Hence, you promised to be that one person he needed.

Satoru felt like ripping his hair out in agony. He could feel it. He could feel him losing you. Any traces of anger slipped out of his body. He looked at you desperately, looking crestfallen and utterly wrecked as he felt hot tears burn in his eyes. 

“Baby, please,” he begged, voice almost cracking in the process. “I’m already losing one best friend. I can’t lose you too.”

Closing your eyes to stop your own tears from falling, you could only whisper an apology back, “I’m sorry.”

Satoru didn’t need your apology. He knew that you could apologize a million times and in the end, he’d still forgive you even if you were tearing him apart. He also knew that you were extremely stubborn and even more loyal. You had made up your mind and this was you saying goodbye. His fists went rigid causing his knuckles to turn white from the intensity of his grip.

“So, this is it? This is the life you’re choosing?” he let out an empty laugh, the smile leaving his face once his gaze met Suguru’s who awaited behind you. “You’re choosing him?”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his tall figure down to you into a tight embrace. Arms wrapping around you, he held you even tighter against him as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. Breathing in your scent, he felt goosebumps rise on his skin when your lips brushed to whisper against his ear.

“This is me choosing you.”

Ripping yourself away from the snowy haired man, he stood stunned at your declaration and could only watch as you made your way back to Suguru’s side. The said male extended his hand back at you once more, pouting as you shook your head no. Vision blurring with tears, you walked past him and continued walking down the street to get as far away as possible, willing your broken heart not to look back.

Suguru could only sigh deeply. You just needed more time. Whenever you were ready, he’d be there every step of the way with open arms, forever set to love and protect you. Looking back at Satoru, he shot the distraught male a smirk and threw up a peace sign. Tucking his hands into his pants pockets, he trailed after you before you could get too far. 

In a moment of panic, Satoru raised his hands to prepare an attack towards the raven haired male. After a mental struggle, he ultimately dropped his hands to his side, fists clenching hard. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t have it in him to harm his best friend or else he’d risk harming you as well.

Satoru watched your figures disappear deeper into the crowd for perhaps the last time he’ll ever see you.

divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

[rae-writes]

all for you...

Dazai x twin!reader

wc : 1.k

warnings : angst, ambiguous ending, major character death [not reader or Dazai], blood, implied prior emotional/physical/[light] sexual abuse

synopsis : "I don't want to play this part but I do, all for you"

a/n : I...apologize for this

“Well now…this is quite the mess to clean up…” 

The splattered blood on the wall had begun to drip, sliding down the wood slowly and splashing onto the floor with faint ‘pit, pit’ echoes. There was an eerie, ringing, silence to the air and a tension that felt suffocating.

Something shifted when Mori turned to look at the two children who just witnessed the murder— they were no older than fourteen. 

“You twins are my witnesses…from now on, I will be the new boss of the Port Mafia, and the two of you…will stay by my side.”

Fukuzawa Yukichi and Mori Ogai sat at a small, cherry-wood table that was decorated with a glass china set for the tea they were talking over; it would’ve been a rather amusing sight, if the conversation topic hadn’t been so serious. 

While they both performed their positions as head of their respective organizations diligently- and extremely well- it was no secret that they were each getting higher up in their years. They thought it best to discuss who would potentially be taking over once they were retired together, as it would help maintain their mutual agreement between said organizations. 

“Your best candidate is Doppo Kunikida, is it not? I was fairly certain it was him who was acting in your stead whenever you could not.”

You and Chuuya stood directly behind Mori, with a small handful of your subordinates a couple of feet away; similarly, Fukuzawa had Kunikida and Dazai behind him, with the rest of the agency’s core members on standby. The two heads didn’t really need them here, as they could very well handle themselves against one another, however by this point, it was more or less a tradition. 

“That is correct. What about you? Surely you’re going to pick from your pool of executives, aren’t you?” 

There it was. That nauseous dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. It sunk into your bones, forcing a cold sweat to the surface of your skin as, instinctively, your flight or fight response tried to take over. 

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The sounds around you grow muffled so suddenly it makes your head spin and the scenery melts down into a memory of the executive meeting held a week ago.

“Do not mistake my words. I will continue as the Port Mafia’s head until it is apparent I am no longer able to fulfill my role; even then, my presence will not just disappear. This is my home and the organization I’ve dedicated my life to. I’m simply implying that we will need a suitable replacement when that time comes.” 

Rae glanced at Chuuya, finding him to be exactly who Mori was looking for. There was no one else in the room, or even the entire Port Mafia for that matter, who would be better suited to take over the position as boss. 

“And Dazai Osamu shall be just the person to do so.” 

No matter how sickening the feeling of fear and dread can be, anger will always be the secondary emotion. Even if that anger doesn’t last, it festers somewhere deep inside someone and builds until it’s crawling throughout their whole body— and suddenly it’s controlling them. It’s what takes over their mind like a parasite until it’s moving their legs, their fingers, their hands; until it acts on all those…scenarios in a person’s mind that were never meant to be born- that were only supposed to stay as impulsive thoughts. It’s then that the entire world a person experiences can be flipped upside down and drowned in the raging tides their anger brought. 

It was that anger that had your body moving on autopilot while you just…watched. Like you were a prisoner in your own mind, watching something on the tv screen. 

Your feet took a few steps forward before your hand was reaching for Mori’s teacup and slamming it on the edge of the table, shattering the glass. It left one big shard in your grasp. Your free hand had come up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the long strands of black hair before yanking, forcing him to look at you with an exposed neck. 

When his red-purple hues met yours, your movements became your own. A gasp tore from your throat as you took in the sight in front of you, ragged breathing making you tremble. It was now that you were able to consciously think about your actions. 

And you thought about Osamu. 

You thought about everything he had to go through— everything Mori forced him to go through. 

You thought about that shine he had in his eyes that dulled over the years, only returning when he’d escaped Mori and the Port Mafia. You thought about the night he left, the way he cried over Odasaku and the way he cried about not wanting to leave you; you’d never seen him cry before. You thought about the hope in his eyes as you helped him leave and the genuine smile he’d given you two years later when you saw him again in the Agency. 

You thought about Mori’s sick, twisted version of affection— or ‘love’ as he called it sometimes. About the way he treated the two of you. The way he talked, manipulated, used, touched the two of you. 

As you gazed into the eyes of your tormentor- the man who was planning to drag your brother back to the darkness that had already consumed you- all that was swimming in those devil eyes was some warped version of pride; of satisfaction. 

His voice echoed in your mind, words he didn’t even need to voice aloud because he’d engrained them into you, seeping disgustingly- permanently- into your core. 

‘If I cannot have Osamu, I will gladly have you instead, my precious Y/n.’ 

With steady hands, though a trembling heart, you forced the broken piece of china into the flesh of Mori’s neck. And with a chilling cry, you dragged it across the entire expanse of his throat; his blood was now coating your face. 

It would’ve been a rather amusing sight- the horror plastered across everyone’s faces…if the situation hadn’t been so serious. 

“He…he was going to ask Osamu to be the next boss…and I couldn’t— I wouldn’t let him. Not you, Osamu.” Your voice cracked as you looked over at your brother, heart clenching when he looked at you with such…mortification. “Anyone but you.” 

And Osamu thought back to you. 

He thought back to all those times your eyes darkened in rage whenever Mori did something to him. He thought back to how you’d always yell at Mori for hurting him, whether physically or mentally. He thought back to the nights you promised him you’d help him shove down that darkness Mori festered in him. He thought about the promise you made him when he left the mafia: the promise that you’d be the one to kill Mori for what he’d done to the two of you. 

As he gazed into the eyes of his twin sibling- standing with blood on their face after just repeating the cycle, all for him- he could see the fear of what you’d just done. The determination to be better than Mori...and the love. Love for him. 

He should’ve known, his heart screams. He should’ve known this would happen, that you’d snap. He should’ve stopped you, he should’ve talked to you, he should’ve been there for you, because now—

. . .

After a haunting moment of ringing silence, the only person who dares to move is Chuuya Nakahara; the redhead kneels, sliding his hat off as he bows his head, “All hail the new Port Mafia boss, Dazai Y/n.”

[fieldofdaisiies]

Of Wings and Secrecy

paring: adult!Nyx x Reader | type: angst | words: 3,4k words | warnings: mentions of abuse, violence | based on this request

“What a weak punch.” 

You throw Nyx a withering glare over your shoulder, hands dropping to your sides. You really have to fight the urge to flip him off, and at the same time want nothing more than to kiss those formidable lips.

“Shall I demonstrate how it should be done?” His wings flare behind his back when he starts to stroll toward you, sauntering with nothing but cocky smugness, a grin on his lips.

Your little sister, Salia, next to you giggles, a mischievous smile on her lips. “I guess I‘ll leave you two alone then.”

She winks and before you can stop her, she is heading towards where Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta, Nyx‘s aunts, train a few young Illyrian females.

Salia is the only one to know about what is actually between the two of you — a bond, a mating bond, always glamoured to keep it hidden. But she knows about the mutual love, how and when the bond snapped, about your secret meetings and the dangers along with it. The dangers that prevent you from—

Your thoughts are cut off when you feel the hard and warm press of a solid chest against your back. 

“A little higher.” His hands support your elbows, his lips brushing your earlobe. You fight against a shudder, and hold your breath. 

“Not here.” Your voice is silent, hushed. “Someone could see us.”

“I’m only helping you train, my star.” A smirk appears on Nyx’s lips, but falters the moment he sees your scared expression after you have turned to him. The Night Court heir steps away, and bows his head. 

You open your mental shields for him, holding his gaze. I’m so sorry, but it‘s too dangerous, Nyx.

Making sure no one is looking, Nyx moves in again, lifting your elbow with one of his warm and gentle hands, acting like he is explaining something. “Let me protect you.” He leans in the slightest bit. “Come to Velaris with me. Let me protect you.”

You turn away and pick up a sword. “You know I can‘t.” Straightening your posture and using one hand to smooth out your leathers you take a few steps back. “I can‘t leave my mother and sister alone.”

Nyx knows this, and yet the truth —the awareness about you not coming with him— sends a pang of hurt right into his heart. Your hearts belong together, so do your souls, and should never be kept apart. You had fallen in love with each other the first moment you lay eyes on each other. But life isn’t too kind to you, doesn’t allow your love to flourish.

Devlon forbids this relationship, threatens to hurt the once you love most. It has to be kept secret. Nyx promised you that with his father’s protection —with the High Lord’s protection — nothing would ever happen to you. And despite that sounding very promising, you couldn’t accept.

This is not solely about you. You have a sister and a mother who live here as well and they will be in danger. Especially if you go with Nyx or if your relationship —if the bond— becomes public.

Nyx moves in closer again, helping you position your legs a little differently. “I want to be alone with you.”

“Nyx.” A corner of your mouth tips up.

He raises a brow, twin flames of desire lighting up his blue eyes. “My late grandmother‘s hut?”

“Now?”

Nyx grins and turns you, so your back is against his front, always careful of your beautiful wings, acting like he is showing you some self-defence techniques. “Always.”

His body vibrates with passion, and it reaches you, fuels the need within your veins. You have been apart for so long. You have missed him. And you need him. Now.

—-

A loud giggle parts your lips and you shove at Nyx‘s bare, and solid chest. “I‘m sure I love you more.”

He kisses your shoulder and shakes his head. “Not possible.” His damp lips coast over your salty skin, tongue poking out. “My love for you is endless.”

“Well,” you breathe, “mine is endless and just a bit more.” 

He tips his head up, gaze meeting yours and laughs. “You are impossible.”

To that you grin and chuckle. Your hand comes up and you stroke your thumb over his cheek, slowly, assessing him with your eyes. “You look tired,” you say with a contemplative look on your face.

“We‘ve been tangled in the sheets for the whole night, my star, I am exhausted.” The beautiful smile on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes and the corners of your mouth turn downwards. 

“It’s because the glamour, isn’t it.”

He doesn’t want to say yes, but you can read him so well, so he silently admits, “I constantly need to use a lot of magic to glamour the both of us, and over a far distance when I am back in Velaris.”

You find yourself nodding, your heart hurting about the knowledge of what it does to him.

“But it’s fine.” He kisses your nose. “As long as the two of us have a chance to be with each other, I would accept everything.” Now, he kisses the corner of your mouth, hands falling to your hips, pulling you closer, the counter below your bare thighs, cool.

“I don’t want you to—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. But it is a kiss you can’t really focus on. You love him, you want to be with him — Cauldron he is your mate! But that doesn’t make this relationship easy. It only makes it hella difficult. 

Nyx is a bit over 100, sooner or later he will have to take over as High Lord, you don’t want to cause him additional issues.

“You are distracted, my star.” His hand slides beneath your —his— shirt and he cups your breast, thumb pressing down on your nipple, rubbing. “Let me help you focus on us.”

Your curl legs around his hips, hoping that the press of his hard length against your core will really centre you in the moment. And it truly does. 

You allow yourself to enjoy this moment with him, knowing it is fleeting and will be over way too soon and Nyx back in Velaris. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

You cup the nape of his neck with your hand, fingers entangled in his soft silken strands, mouths colliding, teeth clacking.

“I love you—”

“Nyx!” The entrance door bangs against the wall of the hut, so loud even the mice in the smallest nooks can hear it. It feels like time stands still when Nyx steps away and whips his head into…the High Lord’s direction.

There is nothing but confusion and a hunt of shock etched upon Nyx‘s father‘s face, like he can’t really believe what he is seeing.

“I was looking for you.” The High Lord is not stuttering, but something close to it and Nyx, his cheeks a deep red, looks like he is wringing for the right words, all engines in his mind working on high speed.

“This is Y/N,” he finally says and adds, “And she is my mate.”

　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

“And the hating each other part…?”

“Fake.” A sheepish grin spreads over Nyx‘s face and he bites down on his lower lip.

His father chuckles lowly and shakes his head at his son. “When did this happen? The bond I mean. When did it snap in place for you?”

Rhysand still looks a little flabbergasted. Even minutes later when the three of you sit together on the couch, now you and Nyx fully dressed.

“Shortly after the Blood Rite. I went to congratulate her on becoming Arktosion, and well…our eyes met and the bond snapped.” Nyx turns to you and takes your hand into his, squeezing softly.

“That was nearly a year ago,” the High Lord expresses and throws his son an incredulous look. “You’ve been keeping your bond a secret for so long!?”

Nyx and you nod.

“You could have told us. At least your mother and—”

“We couldn‘t.” Nyx shakes his head again, then leans into you and kisses the top of your head.

Then he continues, “It would have been too dangerous. Dad, I know you. And I know mum. You would have wanted to get involved. You would have tried to talk to Devlon and we couldn’t risk it. Y/N‘s mother and sister are in his tight grip and—”

“If he finds out about our mating bond he will do unspeakable things to them.” Your gaze drops, voice so vulnerable and silent you hope the High Lord could even hear you.

He did, and his power stretches out, brushing you. “You will have our protection always. And so will your sister and mother. You can come to live in Velaris with us.”

You are grateful for this, really, but you cannot accept just yet. You will first have to talk to your mother and your sister. Explain everything to them. And you will have to catch them when your father is not home. And then you need to arrange everything and—

“Thank you so much,” you finally say and meet the High Lord’s gaze. Sitting here with him feels a bit surreal, considering who he is. But then you remember that you have been rolling around in the sheets with the prince of the night for the whole previous night and it no longer feels so odd.

Many times you have already asked him if you are truly good enough for him, for a prince, and he has always told you yes, then poked you or smacked your arm lightly to make his point clear. And then most of the time he kissed you. Or more.

“Really. Thank you much. For the offer. I will gladly accept but I need a little time.”

“Whenever you are ready,” Nyx whispers, but there is worry in his eyes. “You have time. Talk to your mother and sister and then you let me know how we will go forward.” Lifting your intertwined hands, he kisses your knuckles.

You sit together for a little longer, Rhysand wanting to find out a bit more who is tied to his son‘s soul by the mating bond and who has consequently stolen Nyx’s heart.

You open up easily to him, his kindness and love for his son, visible in every word he says. They are an amazing family and you feel very lucky to somehow be a part of it.

Only a while later, and when Rhys and Nyx truly have to leave for Velaris (the High now finally having found his son who had closed the mental to his father during the night he spent with you) you go back home to your mother and sister, hoping to catch them before you father gets home. But he is already there and so decide to wait a few more days, think about it, clear your mind and really form a plan. You have been hiding this relationship for so long, you can now also wait a bit longer. 

Nothing is rushing you. You and Nyx will one day be together, that is true, and if one more day lies between you and him being ultimately together or not, doesn’t matter to you. Not with the prosperity of being with him and the knowledge that while living a life with him your mother and sister will be safe.

You will fill them in on your plan in a few days, when the time is right.

But you later find out that waiting was a fatal decision.

　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

“You want to leave Windhaven?” Your father raises a brow, and you vigorously shake your head. Your cousins leave the shadows behind you, closing in on you until they catch your arms. “You were going to leave us, weren’t you?”

“No, father.” Your voice is so vulnerable, why would I?

The door hasn’t even fallen into the lock when you knew you stepped right into a trap. Your mother and sister are cowered together in the corner of the room, shaking so hard you even see it from the distance.

You wiggle against their hold, but your cousins are just stronger, their nails biting into your skin, their silent laughter ringing in your ears.

“Letting your mother and sister alone to do all the work?” Devlon —your father— takes a step forward and this is the first time you see the tool in his hands. The same tool that was used to clip a female's wings. Your stomach coils, panic, strong and terrible, blazing through you. You feel how your knees start to buckle, but you fight against it.

“I wasn’t going to leave.”

“Bullshit!” Devlon shouts. “Do you think I am stupid. That I couldn’t detect this damn mating bond. The heir‘s powers are strong but not that stronger. The glamour starts to fade.” Disdain laces his features.

“Were you hoping to become a princess one day, huh?” He stalks forward and weighs the tool in his hands.

You want to growl at him but you keep your mouth shut.

“I need to disappoint you. Someone like you will never be a princess, and most definitely not a High Lady. You are a laundry girl and you will stay like that.”

“Father, I—”

The click of his tongue shuts you up. “Too late for silly apologies. It is not time to make sure you stay where you belong.” Darkness falls over his face, and he tips his chin. It is your cousin’s cue to move. They turn you and force your chest down to lie atop the wooden table.

He is going to clip your wings and there is nothing you can do against it. You are strong, but not stronger than the three of them. 

The content of your stomach sours at the helplessness you are feeling, tears burning behind your eyes. But you won’t give him that. You won’t cry. He doesn’t deserve your tears. You won’t be vulnerable. You won’t be weak. And if he clips your wings, you will—

“Devlon don’t!” your mother cries out, but your father shuts her up with a snarl and a pointed, warning look into her direction. He steps closer and presses down on your back, forcing your face to rub against the harsh, wooden surface, some splinters definitely piercing into your skin, drawing blood. Your spine cracks and your shoulders ache from the angle your cousins are still holding your arms and you cry out in pain — it is just too much, you can’t hold it in any longer.

“It is her fault. She didn’t want it any differently. She brought—”

Devlon‘s sneer is cut short.

The main door bursts open with an impact that has the whole hut shaking, power so strong and lethal when it stretches out makes you aware that it can only be the High Lord and your mate who have arrived. You whip your head into their direction and a loud sob parts your lips.

Morrigan is also in tow, the first to move towards you and your father. “Hands off the girl! Now!” she growls, fury swirling in her hazel eyes.

It must be the shock, and definitely fear that makes your cousins step back, letting go off your hands. One of the stupid brutes even has the audacity to speak up and say, “He made us do it.”

But no one pays him any attention. Everything is focused on you, and the tool, the large clipping tool, positioned at the base of your wings and the male holding it. Devlon, despite stepping back, does not seem remorseful about his actions.

“Devlon.” Rhysand’s growl ripples through the hut and Nyx sets out to get to you as quickly as possible. He helps you up and pulls your shivering body to his chest. “I got you. Nothing can happen now,” Nyx whispers against your head, but you can’t quite focus, your attention on your father.

“What is going on here!” Rhysand demands and his lethal power fills the room.

But your father is not afraid. His face displays nothing but purely male smugness when he says, “Do you know about it, Rhysand? What they did?”

“That they are mates,” the High Lord answers matter-of-factly. He slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and pins the camp lord with a look. 

Surprise passes over Devlon’s face – he hasn’t expected Rhysand to know. Thought, or maybe even hope, to catch him off guard and shock him. But quite the opposite is the case.

“I know that.” Rhysand turns to look at you and his son. “And I also know what you were about to do. What would have happened if we had arrived here any moment later.” Lethal calm graces each of his words, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You hold tighter onto your mate. 

In the corner of your eye you can see that Lady Morrigan moves swiftly across the room, crouching down at the opposite side and throwing both her arms around your sister and your mother. She whispers something to them but you can’t make out the words

Your heart is beating so rapidly, nearly jumps out of your chest. Ragged breaths leave you and you feel lucky you’re holding onto your mate for support. You know you would fall to the ground otherwise.

“Your daughter is my son’s mate and that makes her part of my family. She is mine to protect.”

The High Lord’s power lashes out but before you can see what happens to your father, black mist swirl around, blurring your vision until everything is dark and you enter a state of oblivion. 

　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

“No-o!” Your throat is too dry, voice hoarse and the shout that leaves your croaky. You re shaking, chest heaving rapidly, but when strong arms wrap around you and you are pulled flush to a solid, warm chest, every seems to ease.

“Nyx—”

“I am right here. With you.” His lips brush your head. “You are safe. We are in Velaris. Far away from your father, my star.”

Now there is no more holding back for the tears. The run freely. The damn breaks and they burst out of your eyes. 

“I-I-my wings. He wanted to—” Your breath catches and you tio back your head, finally opening your eyes despite the stinging burn in them. “Mother. Salia!”

“Here as well.” Nyx appears in your vision and rests his forehead against yours, not giving you a chance to take in the room you are currently in. 

He exhales softly. “They are all here and safe. And your father—” He swallows. “He is taken care of.”

He offers no more of an explanation and you also don’t ask. Because you simply don’t care. He can rot in Hel…

“Thank—”

He kisses you. And then the corner of your mouth. “Never, ever thank me for something like this. You are my mate. My love. My soon-to-be wife. You are mine and also mine to protect. I love you, my star.”

“I love you, my prince.” You smile through your tears and kiss him again.

After holding each other for a bit longer, Nyx helps you rise and you can finally see the room —his room— you are in and marvel at it. It is phenomenal and Nyx explains that it is your room from now on as well.

He helps you bath and get dressed and when all is done you join the rest of his family, of your family, in the kitchen for breakfast, embracing both your mother and sister tightly, holding on so tightly as if you never want to let go again.

“The nightmare is over,” your mother whispers, and the three of you start to cry.

You later learn that Rhysand that you are under full protection of them and your mother and sister were given a small house near the Sidra river to live in from now on. You can barely thank them enough, but High Lady Feyre reaches her hand out to you and says, “We have to thank you. For the reason for our son’s happiness.”

[modelbus]

Please please please do a part 2 for Cut Chaos…maybe where she sees the others out and about and it’s a awkward until they get around to why she wasn’t subtly push out? I honestly don’t know, I just want to see where it goes…

I got so many asks for a part 2, you are the chosen one I shall write it to. Hopefully this lives up to the first one!

Read part 1! And Part 3?

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Cut Chaos Part 2

Somehow, going to the store had become your nemesis. Wallowing in self-pity felt like a much better way to spend your time, but even you could acknowledge that you needed to buy things eventually.

The reason why you tried to minimize going was simple: you didn’t want to see them.

What would happen? Part of you wasn’t sure if you could face the rejection in real life. The blow had been softened—although barely—by the digital world. If you tried hard enough, you could pretend that your phone broke and that’s why they never contact you.

Tommy’s birthday came and went, and you sent a gift through the mail. Too afraid of the boy to even have the decency to leave it on his doorstep, while too caught up in what you’ve lost to not give something.

You signed the card with love and your name, leaving the comma out. You didn’t regret it until it was too late, until the card had been sealed.

If you saw him at the store, would he acknowledge that? Or would it just be another thing on a list that he ignored about you?

If you were the count the number of times you’ve thought about them, perhaps you’d be counting forever. The store, the first time, nearly made you cry.

It’s a strange feeling, having then not having. Being in the sun, only to have clouds suddenly yanked over it as a downpour begins. The m&m yogurt reminded you of them, the twin snake gummy worms. Even the teal of a sign had made you stop in your tracks.

You were pathetic, honestly. But you were mourning something you weren’t even sure that you ever had.

So, the store. Your new foe, the newest nemesis in the battle of memories. Checkouts beeped in the rhythm of heartbeats you’re terrified of forgetting, shoppers talked in low tones you used to know.

Today, it was raining out. It had only just started when you got inside the store, thank God, but it meant your walk home would be a wet one. You didn't live too far though, so it wouldn't be that bad.

The door opens next to you, where you're looking at the strangely large selection of stuffed animals. One would go well with your setup, really.

You glance over your shoulder, a curtesy glance really, and do a doubly take at the four figures darkening the doorstep. Figuratively, although three are tall as fuck and cast shadows.

A black and white mask. Blue eyes. Fluffy brown hair. Fluffy brown hair times two.

Oh, shit.

You stare at Ranboo, Tommy, Wilbur, and Tubbo for one second, then two. Tubbo sweeps his gaze over the store, pausing when he lands on you.

“Oh.”

The first words they speak to you in ages, and it’s Tubbo saying “oh.” A truly inspiring start to a conversation.

“Hey. I didn’t know you guys came here.” You say around the dryness in your mouth. Swallowing, you try to force air into your lungs.

“We don’t.” Wilbur answers. “Not usually, we’re just—“

“Filming.” Tommy finishes, holding up his camera.

Right.

It’s one thing to see it online, but it’s a whole different level of pain to witness it in front of you. The split in the ground between you and them is almost visible. Almost.

“Oh.” And now you’re the one with the lame response. “Well. Enjoy that, I guess.”

“Wait.” Wilbur says, reaching out, because of course it’s Wilbur to do this to you. “How have you been? It’s- it’s been a while.”

And who, you want to ask, is at fault for that? Who would be taking the blame? Because by the way Ranboo couldn’t meet your eyes, you’re certain you all know.

”Do you want the honest answer, or the answer that’ll make it so you all can go to bed tonight peacefully?” You ask passively, because fuck.

They fucking left you. No, they did far worse than that. They ruined you.

You turn away, heading to the checkout. They follow you.

“What do you guys want? Ditching me once wasn’t enough? You need to put salt in the wound?”

“Hey, we didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or—“ Tommy begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“Well you did! You left me behind! How did you think I’d feel?”

“…nothing?” Tubbo suggests.

“What?”

“You were using us.” Wilbur crosses his arms, staring at you. Ranboo hovers awkwardly behind him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrow, and then it hits you.

The rumors. They believed the fucking rumors. Out of everything that’s happened, this might be worse than them leaving in the first place. The very people you thought knew you best. Turns out that was a lie just like everything else when it came to them these past few months.

“I would never—“ Your gaze shifts to Ranboo, easily the most awkward looking person here. “Ranboo, you’ve been where I am. You know damn well what it’s like to be friends with people who have more fans than you, and you know the hate that comes with that. But you also know that you never once used the people around you, because they’re your fucking friends.” You pause. “Why wouldn’t you believe that of me? I thought you guys fucking knew me.”

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims. “We do know you! It’s just…” He glances at Wilbur for help with the statement.

“Just that sometimes you do what you think you need to protect yourself.” Wilbur finishes.

“You could’ve talked to me.” You say quietly, voice breaking. “It could’ve been fixed if any of you just talked to me.”

This was your catharsis. These thoughts have been swirling in your head for so long, too long. As you glance around at the four people you used to find comfort in, each in vary degrees of awkward-ashamed, your heart breaks.

You move to pay, but Wilbur beats you to it.

“I’m having fun with Genloss.” Ranboo announces suddenly and loudly.

Everyone’s heads snap to him, and he shifts slightly but doesn’t back down. He just nods, confirming what was just said.

“I’m filming a documentary.” Tubbo adds. “It’s long. But fun.”

Were they rubbing it in? Just how much they were fine without you? It didn’t seem like something they’d do. But then again, you couldn’t exactly claim to know them anymore.

“My live shows are fucking awesome. Weird as hell, but… awesome.” Tommy chimes in.

“What’ve you been up to? Other than playing packing games.” Wilbur grins, a joke. He watched when you played packing games?

“Nothing.” You admit. It feels like confessing that you’re hopeless without them.

“Are you guys going to move?” Someone asks from behind you.

You scramble to grab your bag, and the five of you exit the store before you can piss any other shoppers off.

“I think what we’re trying to say is we’re sorry.” Wilbur says once you’re all outside, huddled together under the small awning to avoid the rain.

“Yeah.” Tubbo nods emphatically.

“We just… didn’t know what to do when we heard the rumors. It’s not an excuse.”

“And it was really shitty of us.” Tommy adds.

“You guys knew me, you should’ve known I’d never use any of you.” Your words sound more like a beg than anything else. What are you begging for? Your friends back?

“Know.” Wilbur corrects. “We know you.”

You meet his eyes for a second before swallowing and looking away.

“Oh. Hey, don’t cry.” Ranboo rushes to say, patting your shoulder.

Christ. The action forces a laugh out of you, even as your eyes burn.

“Wilbur! You made her cry!” Tommy exclaims, turning to him.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“I know what will make her feel better.” He declares, before shoving Wilbur out into the rain.

“Tommy! That’s not how you deal with things!” Tubbo scolds.

“Your turn then!”

You laugh, even as Tommy turns to you with an evil grin. You manage to drag Ranboo out into the rain with you, immediately getting soaked to your very bones. It’s a warm rain though, a welcome rain.

For the first time in a long time, you’re genuinely having fun.

“Tommy!” Wilbur yells, reaching out for the blond boy.

“I’ve got the camera, Wil! Can’t get wet!”

Chaos squad. This was chaos, and this was the five of you. You were back home.

[billskeis]

haii >.<

i wanna start off by saying i love your account smsms !!!

oki so if you could do like bill and the femreader being together for like 3-2 months and she never met the rest of his band, but like today she finally did and she got very close with tom and bill got jealous of it and when they went home it was angrryyyy roughh sexxx!!!😝😝

ᡣ𐭩 bill's gf meets the band (GONE WRONG!)

“do you think they’ll like me??” you ask your boyfriend, nervous, twiddling your thumbs together like an idiot as the two of you wait at the front door of one of his bandmate’s apartment complex.

“of course baby, why wouldn’t they?”

he places a kiss on your cheek, reassuring you.

“i dunno.. intrusive thoughts i guess.”

“nothing to worry about schatzi,”

as the door swings open, you’re met with a man who has long brown hair that reaches shoulder length, he greets the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“hey bill, and hello..”

“y/n,”

“well hello y/n! i’m georg, nice to meet you—now come inside please it’s fucking cold.”

you giggle at georg’s demeanour, what a funny guy you thought. stepping into the small space, you are greeted with two other figures in the living room.

“hey bill! took you long enough.. oh! hi y/n! bill’s told me so much about you, tom.”

“hi—oof! h-hi tom!”

you were met with an immediate pair of arms wrapped around your body as bill’s older brother hugged you. you knew what he looked like in pictures yet it was great to finally see your boyfriend’s family in the flesh.

bill felt himself seethe as he burned gazes into tom’s eyes but all tom did was smirk behind your back as you innocently reciprocate tom’s hug.

as he lets go, a shorter blonde headed boy holds his hand out for you to shake, greeting you with a soft smile.

“hey y/n, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, i’m gustav.”

“nice to meet you!”

you sit beside tom after shaking hands with gustav and bill shortly follows after you. sandwiched in between the kaulitz twins, georg comes back from the kitchen prior to letting you guys in with shot glasses and a bottle of liquor.

“now, shall we?”

“shit!”

“well y/n, looks like you have to take another shot!” georg exclaimed as he begins to pour the alcoholic drink into your designated shot glass.

“schatzi you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,”

bill puts a hand on your thigh and squeezes it gently. a concerned look in his eyes as he looks at you and how tipsy you’ve already gotten.

for the past hour you’ve been playing board games and doing mini challenges in-between involving drinking to spice it up a bit.

georg is shirtless, gustav is about to black out from a food coma after eating two whole pizzas to himself, tom is laughing so hard his dreads are about to fall out of his bandana,

bill is completely sober, in case, of course.

“nono! don’t worry billy i can handle it—”

“lemme take a shot with you y/n,” tom cuts in as he slinks his arm around yours that held the full glass ready to take another one down the hatch.

“see! even tom is willing to do it with me! how sweet of you, tom.”

“of course y/n! anything for you ;)”

“3, 2, 1..!”

the two of you count down as your bodies link together to take the vodka shot simultaneously. a burn travelling down your throat as you cough the sharpness of the alcohol away, high-fiving tom as you both put the glasses down.

“we should go out drinking sometime, you really know how to handle your alcohol,” tom winks at you and you can’t help but smile at how easy it is for you to get along with bill’s bandmates after worrying about it for so long.

“i’d love that!!”

you noticed for the rest of the time, bill was quiet. is he upset? was it something you did? he was looking away into the distance of the hallway until you tapped his shoulder, the rest of the bunch already engaged in whatever challenge came next.

“babe? are you okay?”

“i’m fine. just go back to playing the game. ‘kay?”

“oh, okay!”

as you slouch back into the couch being comforted by bill’s smile, you turn to look back at the current shenanigans that has been going on.

bill’s face completely dropped itself as soon as you turned around. he couldn’t show his girlfriend that he was jealous! not even a glimpse or she wouldn’t let him live it down.

that is until, tom stretched to wrap his arm around your shoulder. obviously you thought nothing of it, you were completely innocent, only thinking of it as part of tom’s nice and welcoming personality. it was simply just him being nice!

bill however, saw red.

how could his girlfriend act like nothing tom is doing isn’t flirting and isn’t also to get under bill’s skin?? where does your loyalty with bill lie?? did you secretly get with bill in hopes to get inside his twin brother’s pants.

you needed to learn a lesson.

“bill, it’s your tu—ah!”

“let’s go.” a yank on your wrist as a stern voice commanded the two of you to leave. without even saying a goodbye, you left the room in silence, shuffling to put your shoes on a hurriedly pace as you look at the three with confusion, them looking the same.

the door slam shut as bill made you exit the apartment first, bill glaring at tom before the two of you left the hangout.

“i told you i’d get under his skin, he’s too easy”

“god damnit tom, bill’s such a priss now i owe gustav $5..”

“give me my money, bitch.”

the car ride home was silent, occasionally it was filled with the heaved sigh coming from your boyfriend next to you.

you were ushered into the space of your home, not even making it past the front door bill forces his lips onto yours with no given explanation.

in between gasps, you try your best in asking your boyfriend yet again what’s wrong.

“bill—bill..! pl—hah—please bill, stop!”

he disconnects his lips from yours as a trail of saliva keeps the two of you, somewhat together. pressing his body closer to yours, he leans his head into yours to nibble on the fold of your ear.

“did i do something wrong..? did i upset you? is that why we left so early?”

he grips onto each of your shoulders very tightly, squeezing the muscle to where it might leave a slight mark on you for a night or two.

“y/n, you’ve been very bad. been disloyal, and i don’t appreciate how close you’ve gotten with my brother tonight.”

“but we just—”

“i didn’t say you could talk back, baby. bedroom. now.”

you bite your lip as you anticipate what’s to come for you in the next following minutes.

your heart races and your breath becomes more ragged with each step you take into the hallway now entering your shared bedroom with your boyfriend.

standing at the foot of your bed, bill closes the door and stands in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder to push you down onto the bed sitting on it, the plush comforter softening the impact of your fall.

“strip.”

you slip the straps of your dress down each shoulder as you begin to drag the fabric from down your torso off your legs. you toss it to god knows where in the room and sit on the bed looking expectingly up at bill.

“completely, y/n, or do i have to do everything for you? hm?”

as you remove the clasps of your bra, you take off the under garment of that with a slight bounce of your breasts.

bill’s breath hitches as he feels his pants becoming extremely more uncomfortable by the passing second.

“god..”

“b-billy..”

“shut up and finish.”

you flinch at the increase of impact in his voice, hands shaking to pick at the lip of your panties, you slide it down your legs.

having to slightly open them for leverage, bill takes a peak in how your cunt glistens from in between. were you turned on by how aggressive he was acting?

you seemed scared, frightened, but your body betrayed you. truly revealing how you felt.

before you even got to discard of your underwear, bill pounces on you, now laying flush to the bed as he groped your chest harshly, pinching each bud within his fingers as he sucked and nipped at your neck.

“h-hey..! ah!”

“nuh uh, no talking. i’ve let you have too much fun tonight. now’s my turn.”

unlatching from your neck, he fiddles with the zipper of his pants to which he seems to struggle with. shortly following he managed to get it undone and relieved himself of the pressure brought onto his extremely tight choice of clothing.

with a spring, his dick hit his abdomen, almost reaching his belly button. you swallow a lump down your throat almost forgetting how big bill was.

as bill lowered himself, he uses his hand to slap his dick onto your cunt, rubbing his tip in circles on your clit causing you to whine.

“so needy..”

a swift motion leads bill to thrust himself into you, unable to comprehend when he even aligned himself to your entrance and without warning.

he pistons his hips inside and out of your pussy without fail. where did he get all this energy from?

propping yourself onto your elbows for leverage, bill loves watching you struggle to take him as he fucks himself into you, cunt soon becoming sloppy as tears well up in your eyes.

“nngh.. fuck..”

“whores don’t get to speak.”

stomach concave as bill presses his hand onto your lower abdomen, as he uses his opposite hand to cover your mouth, bodies now totally connected as he uses your own body to hold himself up as he never stills his thrusts.

you cannot help but moan under his hands, a possible formation of condensation or drool coming from your mouth. either way, the palm of bill’s hand wet from the occasional heated gasps and winces escaping your mouth.

“mmf..hmmmph..”

“that’s right, just take it, take it like a good girl ja? the least you can do f’me right y/n..?”

with every graze and bump bill’s tip hitting your sweet spot so good, walls clenching around him bill cannot help but let out a wanton moan.

“ugh, you tighten around me so well.. takin’ it like a real champ, too bad you’ve done wrong by me y/n,”

“go—ahhh—gonna cum, bill..”

“hold it. fucking hold it in y/n.”

the pressure becomes unbearable as bill doesn’t stop his hips. a hold on you so tight, he uses both his arms to engulf your head to make it easier as he fucks you ruthless and dirty.

eliciting noise out of him, bill cannot help moan like a bitch in heat seeming to feel better than you are. clearly, with having to hold your orgasm in.

you are being used, and it’s all your fault.

“f-fuck! coming, i’m gonna—”

bill doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as cum paints the insides of your walls. fucking his seed into you, bill’s tip hits the entrance of your cervix leaving you to squeal and come all around his cock, a ring of cream left on his length as your bodies bind together.

riding out the high, the two of you breath deeply onto one another as you attempt to catch a breath. bill slides his length out of you, leaving you to whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he plops his body next to you.

looking at your boyfriend, his cheeks are flushed and his mouth agape to take in more air he lost during fucking you.

furrowing your eyebrows, all bill can do is smile sheeply at you as if he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you because he was jealous of his twin brother.

leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, he still lay beside you as you scoff at how he can change his emotions so easily.

“now, d’ya mind telling me what that was all about bill?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

a/n : i can’t lie i might stop writing fics, for like, ever LOL.. we will see i have some reqs in my inbox 🤓

[neverthetwinsshallmeet]

Did you watch The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and think to yourself "Wow, I really wish I could listen to a two-hour analysis of the film vs. the book that includes a lengthy discussion of Enlightenment philosophy and also for some reason a passionate defense of Chino from West Side Story (2021)?" Then boy do I have the podcast episode for you!

[whoistartaglia]

come one, come all

there’s a fabulous magic show in town hosted by the two most famous magicians in fontaine. you unknowingly meet one of them—lyney, a man with a smile full of secrets—in a quiet bar in monstadt.

lyney x reader (pre-release)

there’s a curious man sitting next to you at the bar.

the tavern you frequent is located in a small village at the edge of monstadt, known to host the occasional traveler and adventurer, but none as peculiar as him. his clothes are clean and fashionable, and there’s a look on his face like he knows more secrets than you, has more tricks up his sleeve. moreover, what’s stranger is that he ordered only one drink and has yet to touch it, only observing it, faintly reminding you of a moth studying a flame.

“is something wrong with it?” the man breaks out of his hypnosis at your teasing question, and looks up in suprise. you explain, “i know the bartender, and he’s really great. if something’s the matter with your drink i know he’ll replace it.”

“oh, no,” he says dismissively. “it’s nothing like that. i was just interested in it—we don’t have this brand of wine where i’m from.”

“and where’s that?”

“fontaine,” he replies simply, and yes, now that he says it, you can hear the distinct accent.

“why are you in monstadt?”

“for the same reason everyone else is, i imagine,” he replies, taking a ginger sip from the glass. “for the show.”

ah, yes, the show. a magic show, famous in fontaine and most of teyvat for its impressive tricks and wonderous miracles. you’ve been hearing of it since the twin magicians announced their arrival to monstadt to entertain and wow the masses.

that’s why there are more than an abundance of travelers, adventurers, foreigners, in monstadt. some of them have tickets; many don’t. they hope the magicians will take pity on them and spirit a ticket to them in the middle of the night. or maybe they intend to steal one from actual holders. perphaps a bit of both.

“are you also going?” he presses.

you purse your lips and look down. “no, i’m not.” the tickets were too expensive and too difficult to get your hands on.

“did you want to?”

“of course i did,” you respond, the words coming out more bitter than you intended. it’s the closest thing to magic the world has to offer. tricks to make you forget it’s only an act; displays to dazzle even the most prudent of disbelievers. card tricks, doves from hats, sawing a lady in half and convincing the audience she’s actually been split in two.

of course you want to go. anyone in teyvet would, especially you, who comes from a small town in monstadt, who may never see anything like it again.

“i see,” is all the man says.

there’s an uncomfortable silence you feel obligated to break, and you ask after a second, forcing the lingering bitterness out of your tone, “are you going to watch?”

“yes,” he says, hesitating. “i am…going.”

“do you have a good seat?”

he smiles faintly.

“the best in the house.”

“i’m glad.” you swallow and stand up, placing down enough coins for you and the stranger. he watches you with veiled interest, especially the way you straighten up and conceal the frown creeping on your face.

“i should go,” you tell him. “i’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“yes, you do” he says faintly, agreeing with you. before you can opine on the strange statement, he smiles. “it was wonderful to meet you.”

you turn and leave, waving to the bartender wiping down the bar as you do. before you’re out the door, he calls, “i shall see you tomorrow!”

you pause and turn back around, intent on correcting the man, but he’s already gone—leaving nothing but a golden, shimmering ticket left in his wake.

•••

it’s a trick, a lie, a falsity. your subconscious screams at you that the piece of paper in your hand, that reads admit one in black inky letters, is a fake. it can’t be real—there’s no way.

yet you find yourself traveling to the shining capitol, with the ticket clutched in your hands. the wind begs to rip it away and the crowded streets tempts it to get lost and stolen, but you hold on tight, your grip only loosening when you hand it to the collectors at the front entrance.

they let you in without a second glance, and still in a state of disbelief, you find your seat, front row, center spot. best seat in the house. you look around for the man you saw last night but he is nowhere to be found, and a part of you wonders it he gave up your ticket for you. but that doesn’t make sense, you just met, it’s too peculiar, too much like a fairytale, a magic spell, come true.

your wandering thoughts are caged and tamed at the diming of the lights. you turn and face the center where a spotlight shines and a puff of smoke reveals two figures. the twin magicians. lyney and lynette.

the crowd errupts in applause, it’s the first trick of the evening, and you join in, until the smoke fades, and the magicians come into view. the sister with cat-like ears smiles adoringly at the crowd, and the brother does the same. but whereas lynette’s eyes are roaming, meeting as many fans as possible, lyney’s have yet to leave you.

at your shock and surprise, lyney dips his head slightly, and smiles, all too familiar from last night. turning back to the main crowd, he introduces himself and his sister, and announces to the crowd.

“come one, come all! we have a great show in store for you! magic will be casted, miracles with be had, and...” his eyes find yours again, and winking he continues, “hearts will be stolen, tonight.”

[dumbkiri]

𝐎𝐡, 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ʀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

In order to be a gentle lady of a house, you need to be a woman of patience and tolerance. Control your emotions and do not let your words slip from your mouth so easily. Sit across your prospects with regal dignity and speak when spoken to. 

Your mother and grandmother were no longer on this earth to guide you or to make a decision for you. So what do you do when you sit across from a man who so desperately wanted your hand, but you wanted nothing to do with him? 

“We hope to hear an answer from you today, Ms. [L.Name].” 

You slowly opened your eyes and hummed in thought. The chai mixed with coconut milk swirled around with the small spoon being its cause. Your hand stopped moving and you tapped the white spoon on the rim of the tea cup. 

Could it be possible to decline one of the strongest families in Jujutsu society? You always pondered this question and your good friends, Shoko and Satoru, have told you many times that yes, you definitely can do that. You cleared your throat and set the spoon down on your small plate decorated with sweets. 

“I thank you for your patience, Naobito-sama and Naoya-san. Yet I have trouble with making a decision that decides my future. As you both know, I inherited the blessed technique from my mother and it is considered, well, a blessing, to hold such a power.” 

But they do not know that blessed energy erases all signs of cursed energy. You could never give the strong heirs they wanted to the Zen’in Family because your children will grow up to harness blessed energy, not cursed. You know for a fact that Naoya would beat you for keeping such a secret from him. 

“I have to speak with all my prospects before I come up with any decision. Remember this meeting is to cement the choosing ceremony. We work out our deals here and now then when or if I choose your gift,” You gestured to Naoya with a smile on your clear face, “Our deal is made with one another. May we continue with the terms?” 

Naobito sighed while his son was growing angered by the second you ignored the bribe they tried to get you to take. You wanted things to be fair, so you didn’t care for the gift that Naobito told you that Naoya would put in the choosing ceremony. Then you insisted that he choose a new gift or else you would blatantly refuse it once the day comes. 

“Yes, we shall proceed. What we want most is strong heirs,” 

You held back the roll of your eyes behind your light purple veil. It was made of the most intricate lace and you did not want them to catch any signs of your annoyance. It fit well with the white shawl that connected with the light purple kimono. 

“Children with your blessed energy will give a new power to the Zen’in Family. With that being said, any and all heirs that you produce will be well taken care of.” 

You took the cup in your hand and indulged in a sip of the cool drink. Then you set it back with a soft clink and replied back, 

“Even if they are born females?” 

You knew exactly what you were implying when you asked this question. You saw how badly the twins, Maki and Mai, were treated. And you hated every second you spent at the Zen’in’s seeing this harsh treatment. They were just little girls back then and they should be treated with the same respect. 

“If they are girls,” Naobito put his hand under his chin and murmured to himself. Then he put his hand down and said, “I expect Naoya and you to produce a male first.” 

Your shoulder shook from your giggles and you lifted your veil a bit to glare at Naobito, “You know as well as I do that we are not in control of that. If you cannot ensure my future daughters' well beings then there should be no further discussion, Naobito-sama.” 

You shifted to the left and picked up a brass bell at the corner of the table. Before you could ring it, a hand had clamped down on your wrist and your eyes followed up the trail of the traditional kimono. 

Naoya was glaring at you with a scowl on his face like he was trying to formulate his sentence to the best of his ability. Then his lips parted to say, 

“I know that no matter what, you will produce a male first. You’re a strong woman and you hold a powerful energy that only female members can attain. When our son is born, he will not possess the blessed energy, but my cursed technique or a variation of it. Our daughter will inherit that ability to control blessed energy and if she comes to existence, she will be treated like her brother. You have my word.” 

To put trust in his word would be like feeding yourself to the wolves. Nonetheless, you took your hand back and nodded your head to the deal, “I understand, Naoya-san. I will see you at the choosing ceremony.” 

You rang the bell and your faithful servant, Tadashi, slid the door behind you open to allow the Zen’in’s to leave your home. Naobito and Naoya walked out while you held your head down as they passed by. Another servant guided them out of your home while Tadashi bowed his head before walking in the room. 

You lifted up your veil and looked up at Tadashi who gave you a sympathetic look. 

“Lady [Name], our grandfather would beat me with a stick seeing an expression like that on your face. He would scold me for not doing my job.” 

This caused you to wipe the look and replace it with a tired smile, “Oh, Tadashi, what’s that saying our grandparents used to say to us when they caught us fighting? We would be at each other’s throats, do you remember that?” 

Tadashi laughed with his chest and he kneeled down at your side, “I would like to forget those memories. Anyways, they told us, ‘There is always trouble in the night, but the sun rises every morning’.”

You rubbed your cheeks with the tip of your fingers and said, “Tadashi, whoever I go to, will you follow me? You’re the only family I have left and I cannot imagine myself surviving all alone.” 

“Now we both know grandfather would rise from the grave if I do not follow you. Of course, anywhere you go, no matter how far, I will be right behind you.” Tadashi promised and he stood up to his full height. He walked out of the room and told you that there was one more prospect that would like to speak to you. 

You cleared your throat and put your veil back down to cover the upper half of your face. Your eyes were hooded and you fixed your position. With a shaky hand, you rang the bell and waited for the man that would be making a deal with you. 

“Ow, Maki, did you really have to bring a weapon with you?”

“Of course!” 

“Did you see the way they glared at her? I would have brought a weapon too!” 

“Salmon.” 

The door slid open and you stared at your students with your mouth parted in surprise. You couldn’t believe that your students were here, especially on an important day. You wanted to scold them for doing this until you felt a very familiar cursed energy behind you. 

“Good morning, earthworm! I decided to bring your favorite people to eat some lunch with you while you take a break from seeing those old men!” 

You turned back around on your knees and pointed at Satoru with a worried glare, “What are you doing here? And you dragged our students to be here too? Do you know what this would look like? Like I’m not taking my marriage prospects seriously.”

Control your emotions. Be patient and tolerant. You chanted this a few times in your head then you focused back to the teenagers that awkwardly stood at the entrance of the room. You addressed all of them with a stern tone, “Did Naobito-sama and Naoya-san see you?” 

Satoru shook his head furiously behind you and made a ‘X’ with his hands over his head. 

Yuta rubbed the back of his neck and spoke up for his group, “Yeah and well, we weren’t accepted gracefully. B-but your servant, Tadashi, said it would be okay for us to have lunch with you! That Naoya was the second to last of your marriage…people…husbands?” 

You rubbed your temple and called for Tadashi who immediately appeared in the room with his head bowed. 

“And what of the last man, how long is he willing to wait? I don’t have time to eat with my students although I would love to. I do not want him waiting for too long, Tadashi.” 

You didn’t want to reprimand Tadashi in front of your students, but these meetings needed to be taken seriously. The brown haired adult cleared his throat and gestured to the man at your table, “Excuse the terrible announcement, but Ms. [L.Name], Gojo Satoru is the last man. He was the one to suggest lunch with your students to make you comfortable.” 

You could feel the confidence radiating off of Satoru’s body. You glanced at him from behind your veil and he was currently leaning on the palms of his hands. One leg was bent and the other stretched out to you from underneath the table. 

“You can hide your eyes with that lace cloth, but your blush is very apparent.” 

His words made the heat on your face even more unbearable and you looked away from him. Your right hand flew to your face and you cleared your throat, not wanting to make his words any truer than they already were. 

“Well then, please sit down.” You told your students and they happily crowded the table. A spot was left free by your right side and you looked at Yuta oddly. Did he not want to sit close to you? 

You had thought you and Rika settled your differences. Your questioning gaze took up Satoru’s attention and he smiled at your turmoil. 

“I invited another to join us, but they’re running late.” 

Yuta looked to his left and saw the scrutinizing squint you were giving him. 

“I don’t want to get beat up, [L.Name]-sensei.”

Was all he said as an explanation then someone else barged into the room dumping his backpack onto the floor. You didn’t have time to greet the person because he dropped his body down next to you with a huff. Spiky hair blocked your vision as the person gave you a hug and greeting, 

“Sorry, I’m late. Someone invited me an hour ago.” 

Megumi pulled away with a grumble and glared at Satoru who snickered at him. You hugged the boy back and looked down at his attire. He was in his school uniform and it looked a bit tattered. 

“Megumi, did you get into a fight?”

The boy ignored your look and pulled away from your loving hands that skimmed over his face that was slowly forming bruises. So this is what Yuta meant. He was afraid Megumi was going to beat him up. 

“What a silly notion.” 

You chuckled and servants flooded the room with food on plates. You let Megumi enjoy the food as did the rest of your students. They were very interested in what you had to say about your whole ordeal. 

“I just hope my future husband is…I don’t know.” 

You deflated and thought back to your prospects. None of them were truly nice to you and all they cared about was the blessed energy you had. 

“It’s hard to know that I’m the last one in my family with a technique that every family wants to grab a hold of. The thing is, they don’t know the important downside of marrying a [L.Name] that has blessed energy.” 

You drank more of your tea and explained further with your head down in shame, “Any heirs I produce will not be able to have cursed techniques. Carrying the babe for nine months will erase anything they inherit from their father. My sons will become protectors of their sisters. Like how Tadashi is my protector.”

“W-why not just tell them that?” 

Yuta stuttered and he yelped when Maki smacked the back of his head. Then she picked up her bowl of rice saying, “She’s the last of her lineage, idiot. Why do you think that is?” 

Yuta looked around the table for an answer and you handed over some beef to Megumi’s plate which he took gratefully. You spoke softly and said to Yuta, 

“My family was assassinated one night. All my cousins, aunts and uncles. Even my mother, who was the holder of Nami’s Miracle, our ancestor from the Heian Period, died that night. Tadashi, at the time, slept in the room next to me and he heard the commotion first and woke me up. As stated before, a male [L.Name] is assigned as a protector and he was mine. He dragged me out of my room and hid the both of us in this room.” 

You closed your eyes and sighed, “My mother died because she was the reincarnation of Nami. They killed her because Nami was Sukuna’s, how do I put this?”

Your two students, Maki and Panda, and Megumi spoke up all at once. 

“Slave.” 

“Wife.” 

“Concubine.”

This earned a forced smile from you, “Yes, all those. They were afraid that Nami would overtake my mother’s soul and I don’t know, betray everyone? The only reason why I lived was because Nami’s Miracle was passed down to me with a ritual after my mother took her last breath. They believe that I could be controlled by their authority, they weren’t wrong about that. I am indulging in their marriage proposals.”  

“And if you tell them that your future children cannot inherit cursed techniques, what’ll happen?” Yuta innocently asked, he wasn’t in the mood to eat anymore. 

“Nothing will happen to her,” Megumi grumbled, stuffing rice into his mouth as he chewed angrily. Even thinking about harm or death coming to you made his blood boil. “They won’t lay a hand on her.” The 13 year old boy boldly stated and swallowed his food with a drink of his water. 

“He’s right,” Maki chimed in, “[L.Name]-sensei will be protected by us, no matter who she marries. You better let us know if they hurt you, got it?” She directed the question at you and accepted her words. Your students were too precious for their own good. 

“Hey, this is my proposal, not yours,” Satoru leaned over the table with an elbow propped up and his chin in his hand. He tilted his head from his students then to you. Despite his blindfold and your thin veil, he stared straight into your eyes. You could feel the way he drank your appearance up. 

“I don’t care if our sons become protectors of their sisters. But that’s because I believe that our sons will still get something out of being their protector. After all, we are the strongest sorcerers, the same will go for our children.” 

Children. Not heirs. 

“But if they don’t?” You straightforwardly asked. 

Satoru hummed and put his chin in his hand puffing out his cheeks for dramatics. Then he raised his arms up and said happily, “Well then, they’ll have my good looks! Come on, eat up! I made sure Tadashi had the servants in the kitchen cook your favorites along with Megumi’s.” 

Megumi swallowed his current piece of food and pointed a death glare at his guardian, “I deserve this after you sent me a late invite. I swear you like to see me fail.” 

“Nope!” Satoru shouted and picked up a sweet delicacy, “I just love to prove how much you love your dear mother figure!” 

You giggled at Megumi’s staunch commitment with his words, “I will choose her infinitely over you as a father figure.” 

“That’s enough from you both,” You hugged Megumi into your side as you winked at Satoru trying to appeal to the white haired male. But his feelings were hurt by the young boy. 

“Excuse you, I’m the one who found you in the dumpster,” Satoru said offhandedly. 

This caused Yuta to look at Megumi with wide eyes, “Wait, Megumi was found in a dumpster?” 

“Yep! Discarded like he was nothing and I had to be the one to find him!” Satoru leaned back on his palms again while Megumi slammed his hand on the table. Some of the silverware and dishes clinked against one another, 

“No, I wasn’t found in the dumpster! Also you’re the one who approached me with a weird looking face! [Name] was the only one out of the two of you that was approachable!” Megumi shouted in defiance. 

It was at this moment you wished you could stop time. You were surrounded by people you loved and who loved you back. Megumi and your students filled parts of you that your family should have if they were still alive. 

You watched silently as Megumi and Satoru argued with your hands in your lap. Maki and the boys grinning at the silly scene that radiated a comfortable environment for all. 

If you were married to Naoya, you know that moments spent with your newfound family would be no more. Maki was a discarded Zen’in and Megumi…well he was under the care of you and Satoru. Your other students were also going to be turned away. 

Your eyes fluttered over to Satoru and you saw the way he slightly turned his head to you. He closed his mouth holding back his retort and shouted shifting to a different target, “Maki, you won’t believe this, but Panda and Yuta lost Playful Cloud!” 

“They what!” 

“That’s not true! He's lying!” 

It was a diversion so Satoru could speak to you alone over the table while Megumi joined in the teens yelling at one another. 

“You’re nervous.” 

This statement from Satoru was true. 

“Of course, I am. This week is the choosing ceremony and the holidays are coming up. I will be with my husband celebrating Christmas with him for the first time…if he celebrates it.” 

You said all this with a dejected tone. Meanwhile, Satoru listened diligently to your words, spoken and unspoken. He knew you were concerned over the life you had now and what would be taken away once you marry. 

Satoru hummed and leaned over the table again, but this time he was much closer to you. Carefully, he reached his hands out and pinched the end of your veil and pulled it over your head. 

“He was right to call you pretty girl this entire time,” Satoru whispered. 

Your breath hitched and your heart ached from the mention of an old friend. Pretty girl was a nickname Suguru Geto honored you with while Satoru stuck with earth worm because of your love for gardening. 

“Satoru, I might do something stupid if I marry Naoya. Like jumping off of a bridge,” You looked down and missed the way Satoru’s body tensed up.  

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay,” He pulled away and the veil slipped down once his fingers released the fabric, “ because I promise that I will be your husband.” 

This declaration rang with truth, you could feel the shivers run down you back once the words left his mouth. Yeah, it would be a blessing to marry your high school crush.

..........................

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Read the original series here under the title called "The Wife of Gojo Satoru"

[cemeterything]

Do you have any favourite fitzier fanfics :3c

yeah alright:

to be as one is (series) by TheGoodDoctor (rating: G, T) (this one deals a lot with gender and self identity and never fails to make me smile no matter how rotten i'm feeling)

Through by robokittens (E) (one of the tags on this fic is "spiritual woundfucking" and i feel like that recommends this fic better than i can in my own words)

oh you pretty things by wildcard_47 (T) (one of many 'Francis buys James a dress' fics, but this one stood out to me because the dialogue and prose is just so thoroughly delightful to read)

The Shipmaster's Song by ripeteeth (T) (what if... we were shipwrecks at the bottom of the ocean... and we were both doomed polar explorers...)

Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight by for_autumn_i_am (E) (a 'what if Carnivale didn't go up in literal smoke' au where everything aches with the promise of future tragedy but still manages to be heartwarming)

an unexpected gift by aes3plex (G) (JFJ meets Francis' extensive family. all of this author's works are incredible but this one was my favorite, equal parts charming and heartwrenching.)

twin high maintenance machines by veganthranduil (E) (obligatory 'the one where they both have erectile dysfunction but they still try to make it work' fic; selected this one specifically for the equal parts delightfully and painfully in character dialogue.)

Swallow by Daucus (T) ('gross' intimacy my beloved. you know the scene in Princess Mononoke where San feeds Ashitaka when he's too weak to care for himself so that he'll survive and heal? well that rewired MY brain and this is the fitzier version.)

burnt-out match in a dark room by deadgreeks (T) (marriage/death parallels and the intimacy of performing someone's last funeral rites. this one's a 'keep a pack of tissues on hand just in case' one.)

singing even so by shortcrust (T) (Orpheus and Eurydice in the Arctic. had me staring blankly into space and hugging myself as if chilled for nearly an hour after i finished it.)

The Gunner's Daughter by reinetta (E) (the most gorgeously written and romantic depiction of a sadomasochistic scene i've ever had the pleasure of reading)

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum by anactoriatalksback (M) (makeout fic, but calling it a "makeout fic" is so vastly underselling this. the plot is literally "they make out", but you will be hanging on to every word and astonished by the amount of character study that the author manages to pack into that premise.)

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself by 5runner5 (M) (PTSD recovery fic in a pre-PTSD recognition era, and by far my favorite for how honest it is about the difficult reality of communication and recovery in a relationship)

shall warmer, sweeter be by baestard (T) (a wonderful exploration of transgender identity and self-discovery that remains impressively period accurate. or: 'what if we survived the arctic and we were both girls'.)

[normal-internet-user]

shaking at a frequency that could shatter glass I know I've been here not too long ago, but. please.

h—headcanons..,, maybe...?? f-for.

Peepaw/Dad!Leo with an adopted child!reader...,, please...,... i-i need some Dad fluff with this tortuga. this overgrown hard-shell melon. this- this. (gestures vaguely) y'get me?

he's so Dad shaped. he's so fond and just radiates safety and warmth and affection and ugghhhghhh i just KNOW he'd be the best dad EVER. nay, he IS the best dad. (pseudo) sibling Casey attests to it.

(⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠) i think i'm actually going to lose my mind . the Clan as uncles/godparents/aunties. grandpa splinter. sweet brother Casey. it takes a village to raise a kid, they say.

do you see my vision here mate? as always, only if you want to ☜⁠ ⁠(⁠↼⁠_⁠↼⁠) & if you do? just .. go ham. if anything strikes you, PUT IT IN THERE. I NEED TO HEAR IT FROM OTHER PEOPLE TOO . (/lh)

This seems appropriate to celebrate me finishing the Rise movie (I am still emotionally unwell this is me coping) I shall grant you headcanons my dearest darling /p

PEEPAW LEO AS AN ADOPTIVE FATHER

....................................

Let me start this off by saying that this man-

This man is best dad.

He finds a lost child?

'Tis his child now.

You are his child now.

Casey?

He's ecstatic.

NEW SIBLING LES GO

Especially since you're younger than him,

(Not by much, maybe afew months)

Casey makes it his life mission to protect you at all costs.

His favorite thing to do is hold your hand and lead you around.

Leo is so so good at being a dad.

I mean look as CJ,

He's got this ok?

Feeling clingy?

He'll hold you until you want him to put you down.

Nightmares?

That's ok kiddo, come curl up next to Papa, he'll keep all those monsters away.

When you get older, you are not going anywhere without him, Casey, or anyone else.

It's not safe, and the same rule applies to CJ.

So you guys go on lots of scouting missions together.

You two may as well be twins, you never go anywhere without the other.

Sometimes, you and Casey will be sent to scout really last minute,

And Leo won't be notified until you two are gone.

Whenever this happens he gets super pissed off and worried because those are his kids,

He should be the one to give them clearence to leave,

Not some random officer who decided to send you two out.

If one of you ever comes back hurt,

God speed to whomever sent the two of you out.

Leo is mad.

Like, mad-mad.

So are April, Mikey, and Donnie.

Leo would literally fall apart if he lost you or Casey.

He swore to Cass that he'd protect Casey, and he promised himself he would keep you safe.

If he lost either of you he just might completely fall apart.

Leo's busy, he's running a resistance afterall,

So he can't keep eyes on you all the time.

That's why the Hamato's take turns.

Leo's in a meeting?

Let's meditate with Master Michelangelo.

Oh he's busy too?

Time to visit Uncle Tello's lab.

Can't find him?

Well where's Commander O'neil?

Can't find her either?

Welp, enjoy the meeting, cause you're stuck there now.

Play rock paper scissors or somethin idk.

If you're around before Splinter passes, he spends alot of time around you.

He's always wanted grandchildren, and he's going to cherish you,

Especially with the world in anarchy.

When you start losing people, it get's hard.

First it was Grandpa Splints,

Then it was Uncle Tello,

Then Auntie April...

Through it all Leo made sure you were ok.

You're just a kid, and you have to grow up in this hellscape?

You've never seen the blue sky, or normal rain,

And everyone you hold close is being ripped away.

That's not fair.

So he does everything he can to make sure you grow up safe and happy.

One of his favorite things to do was tell you and Casey stories of what the world used to be like.

Your favorite is when he describes the stars.

It sounds so amazingly beautiful, shimming lights like glitter sitting up in a blackish blue abyss.

Wow...

After the events of the movie, (you knew it was coming goddammit)

Your first request is to see the stars.

Which is pretty hard since New York is really bright like all the time.

So they took you and Casey to the docks where you would be able to see them best.

You looked up at the sky in absolute awe,

Papa's words would never do the stars justice.

After a minute, you broke down in tears.

It hurt, he promised to be the one to point out the constellations and his younger self doing it just wasn't the same.

Griefing is going to be a really big thing post movie.

In the future, you never really had the chance.

Everything happened so quickly and anytime wasted on griefing could have been a death sentence.

But now, you don't have to watch every corner, you don't have to wake up in fear you'll be alone.

So you grief.

You grief your family, and Casey does too.

Sure, technically they're right outside your room.

But it's not them.

They didn't raise you.

When Leo sends you and Casey back in time,

You took it much worse than Casey, who was focused on completeing the mission.

Sure, you wanted to stop the Kraang too,

But you missed your dad...

So when you find your family's past selves,

And Leo is being so...

Reckless,

You're angry.

Really angry.

Never in your life had your father acted this way, and Casey needlessly boosting his ego 30 seconds into knowing him wasn't helping.

Through out the movie, Casey needs to remind himself that this Leo isn't your Leo.

You have absolutely no trouble with that.

You come across as cold and angry, which worries your brother since you've never been like this before.

The others just assume you're always that way.

But you're not,

And acting like this makes you hate yourself.

You're grappling with the loss of your dad, and the fact that you might fail to do what you were sent here to in the first place.

Casey pulls you aside and gives you a talk.

He understands that your hurting,

He is too,

But this isn't about the two of you.

This is about saving the world and stopping the Kraang.

After that, you can hurt all you want.

That talk ended with you sobbing into Casey's shoulder, practically collapsing to the ground while you clinged to him and begged him not to leave you too.

Aight imma hit ya with the sandwich technique.

Fluff, angst, fluff.

Boom.

When you were a kid,

You had a habit of collecting anything shiny.

Old coins, jewelry, even just shiny rocks.

If it glimmered, you wanted it.

So whenever Leo had to leave the base, he always came back with something shiny for you to add to your hoarde.

He liked to compare you to a crow, and you asked what a crow was.

Right, raised in the apocolypse.

Sure there were plenty of birds around,

But they weren't.... normal.

So Leo explained what a crow was, and that they liked to collect shiny things.

You understood, but you wanted to know what one looked like,

So you went to Uncle Tello and asked if he could show you what a crow looks like.

He showed you, and immediatly you took to the comparison proudly.

You were like a crow!

Mikey liked to put on little shows for you and all the other children that lived in the base.

Making animals and such out of his ninpo.

Your favorite were the birds, the rabbits too.

But the best was the butterflies, which he also used to help you and Casey fall asleep.

They'd flutter around you room kinda like a nightlight.

I also like to imagine that when you and Casey start scouting, you get in trouble for fucking around.

Mostly making stupid bets for your shiny things.

Casey would collect shiny things just to make these bets.

Usually it was simple stuff, like who can throw a rock the farthest,

But even stuff like that could get both of you killed.

Neither of you really listened until one day,

You're making your bet like usual,

And the building you were scouting out wasn't as empty as you thought.

The two of you nearly fell to your deaths, luckily Casey managed to grapple the two of you to safety.

But after that, you had a major fear of heights, and Leo didn't let the two of you out of his sight for a while.

He made sure to scold the two of you when you returned that day,

Before hugging you and telling you how scared he was for a second.

Leo has no problem with you and Casey being included in meetings,

Honestly he prefers it.

If you two are gonna go running around scouting, you should know what's going on.

You'll have the occasional adult who thinks you and Casey are incompitent because of your age,

And that you shouldn't participate in meetings.

But Leo puts that to rest pretty quickly.

"If they can go out, and risk their lives on missions, they can attend the meetings." He'd say.

Leo loves you with his heart and soul.

If anything happened to you, he'd fall apart.

Sometimes he just needs you to have little sleepovers with him, that way he knows you're safe and sound.

He just wants to protect you.

You're his kid,

And he loves you

....................................

I wrote this while listening to anarchy by egg, and damn that song fits.

This one is LONG that's my bad, I got alittle carried away :^

[danikamariewrites]

hiii

i’m thinking about the bat boys with reader who has older brothers who are twins and super protective over their little sister,

my brothers have always been super protective over me since i was little so it made me think about this 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Poly!Bat boys x reader with protective brothers

A/n: I’m the oldest so ik what it’s like to be very protective of my younger sibling. Also idk if you meant poly bat boys or just them individually so I went with poly.

Warnings: none

Your older twin brothers have always been protective of you

You never got to date in school bc they’d scare off the male or embarrass you in some way

They’ve seen you get your heart broken by one male so when you told them you had 3 boyfriends they were ready to jump into action

You didn’t tell them who they were exactly, just invited them over to the town house to meet them

You prepared Rhys, Cass, and Az for your brothers and their intimidation act

The 3 of them just smirked and each placed a kiss on your head

Rhys smoothed down your hair, “darling I think we can handle them.” “I know but I just want you all to get along.”

When they knocked on the door you rushed to greet them

“Brokk! Finn!” You pulled them into a tight embrace. Letting go Finn ruffled your hair, “Hey little sis. So where are your mystery men?”

You roll your eyes at them, gesturing for them to come in

Calling out for Az, Cass, and Rhys they enter the foyer

As the high lord, general, and Shadow singer step into the room your brothers faces fall and pale slightly

Brokk turns to you giving you an incredulous look, “Why didn’t you mention your boyfriends are the three most powerful Fae in Prythian.”

Sucking you lips in you try not to laugh at your poor brothers

Rhys steps up first holding out his hand, “Y/n speaks very highly of you both. I can understand why she looks up to you.” Finn shakes his hand eagerly. “It’s wonderful to meet you High Lord.”

Rhys smiles at him, “Please just Rhys. And this is Cassian and Azriel. Shall we go into the sitting room? There’s food and tea set out.” They both nod and follow the males into the room

You sit between Cass and Az on the couch while Rhys sits in his arm chair. Your brothers on a couch across from you

Az gets tea for you while Cass makes you a small plate. You thank them and your brothers look at them impressed that they would serve you

“I understand you two have some concerns.” Cassian states. Your brothers turn back into their overbearing selves at that

“Yes,” Finn starts, “look, we’ve seen her get her heart broken and those males don’t end up looking so great after. If you hurt her we don’t care what position you hold we settle this male to male.”

Your eyes widen in anger at their threat, “seriously?” You spit out

Azriel rests a comforting hand on your back giving you a reassuring look before he starts speaking, “we understand where you’re coming from, and trust me when I say we have no intention of ever letting y/n go or breaking her heart.”

You look up at him with hearts in your eyes and lean in to his side

“Still, I’m watching you three.” Brokk says with the most menacing tone he can muster

The boys aren’t seriously threatened by them but they understand family and love that your brothers stick by you

[tenko-thinks]

Douma with a pregnant gn s/o + fathering twins headcanons

requested by @alastor-96

Cw : pregnancy, douma is how you say; horny? , childbirth/labor (non descript), fuck it douma experiences feelings

Douma is a rather enigmatic person, and as demons aren't known for siring children with humans. I'd say he'd think the same about you.

When you come to him to tell him of the news he's quite genuinely surprised. It takes quite a bit to shock him, but this would do the trick.

He initially believes it to be a joke, all smiles and laughs while he claps his hands. Saying it's quite mean of you to tease him like that.

But when you insist it to be true and that no one else could be the father.. Well.. he's quite torn.

On the one hand, what is a demon and human child like? On the other.. should he kill you? If nothing else than to protect you from Muzan and the harsh reality of what being his is?

His curiosity would likely get the better of him. It's not like you could leave him anyways! After all, you're his now that you're with his child! Forever! He made his claim, didn't he?

Douma is actually rather knowledgeable in the field of pregnancy. After all, many in eternal paradise are women. And he has seen several in his years come to him while with child. In various stages and with various outcomes. He's intimately aware of how fragile a pregnancy is.

He will pretend that it does not frighten him. The idea of losing something he had never even prepared to have. But wanting it all the same.

Either way, he's doting and kind toward the bearer of his child. He picks up on all of your moods within a moment. Cravings? Ask and he shall provide.

He is also keenly aware of how pregnancy affects the one carrying... when Hormones flare he can't deny the charm of exploring your changing body. He wants to debauch you in any form you change into, after all. Perhaps it's just his demonic nature.

A magician with pain. His hands are cold to the touch, and with deft fingers he can effectively apply cryotheraputic massages to ease aches and swelling in record time. After all, he does hate to see you crying in a manner he did not cause.

Midwives galore when you fall into labor. Douma will shirk any cult responsibilities in favor of being there for the birthing of his child. Beyond excited to meet what he had created with such an interesting being as you.

When he hears the sounds of crying and the bones of his hand rearranging themselves from your crushing grip he relaxes and lets out a breath he had no idea he had been holding.

Except... Why is the doctor back and why are you grabbing his hand agai- Oh. Oh dear.

The cursing him out was fair at that point. The way you had struggled to push two fairly weighty children out of your body was plenty reason for him to not complain or whine.

Yet he can't help the grin that spreads across his face when there are two newborns placed upon your chest. Both with his pale complexion. Silently he wondered who's eyes they would inherit.

That would be answered soon enough when he is the proud father of two rainbow eyed girls. "Touched by the same gods as their father" or something along those lines. One sporting a full head of blonde and the other sporting a similar color , with your own fading into the ends of her hair.

Gorgeous, he had decided. Absolutely gorgeous.

Really, they took after him quite a bit. Both being carefree just like their father. And he dotes on them almost constantly. He could forget the world when his daughters are jumping and climbing on him like a jungle gym.

The only thing that pulls him back into reality is you. And the grim reminder of what may occur if the children bare an immunity to the sun. He fears what may happen if Muzan were to learn.

And so he does his best to hide it. Wipes his memory whenever the demon king rarely tries to peak in. See if he has done anything.

He's decided rather pointedly that he would rather kill him than allow him to take the two things that had made him feel Human again.

[mortalfaerie]

𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕤' 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (+ 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕖𝕟𝕒) (pt 1)

this concept is stuck in my brain so...

your were always in the shadow of your twin, jacaerys. he was born only ten minutes before you, but in doing so had outshined you for a lifetime.

while your grandfather might have bent the law further for you if you had been born first, he wouldn't do so for the rest of the realm - and being a girl, the birth of your immediately younger brother meant you wouldn't inherit driftmark, either.

that's not to say that you didn't love your brothers - they were your closest friends, especially after your mother had moved your family to dragonstone.

you missed your aunt helaena, however. at only two years your elder, she was more like a cousin or a sister to you, and as the only other girl you two had idled away long hours with tedious septas together.

for the first few months you wrote faithfully to eachother, but after the disaster at your aunt laena's funeral, an irrevocable schism has opened between factions of your family.

from that day, two more years would pass before you saw her again.

when helaena was thirteen, she came to dragonstone to claim a dragon. it was a cold and diplomatic trip which the king was too ill to attend and the queen had flatly refused to consider, and so the hand of the king escorted her along with a platoon of guards.

you were eleven years old, clasping hands with your twin on the windy shores of dragonstone as the princess' boat came ashore. all of you, even joffrey were ill at ease during this first meeting of factions in years. but, when the princess pulled back the hood of her cloak and stepped onto the beach, you found your heart hammering for an entirely different reason.

helaena had grown taller and more beautiful since you last saw her, though she seemed completely unaware of it as she anxiously took in her surroundings. she had all the beauty of the targaryen line in her, and the beginnings of what would make her a regal looking woman one day. and yet, she was softer in her features and appearance than the rest of your family in a way that was completely disarming.

though the feel of her visit was detatched and lacked the warmth of a family reunion, you found every excuse to seek her out over the duration of it. at first she was wary of you, no doubt because of your brothers and stepsisters and the role they had played in her brother's injury. after a few days though, she warmed and you slipped into a rapport like that before you had left for the island castle.

when it came time to venture up the dragonmont in search of a dragon, you begged and pleaded your mother to allow you to come with the princess - after all, your egg had never hatched and you lacked a dragon as well - and after exhausting the crown princess she relented.

on the dragonmont with a mixture of red keep guards and those loyal to rhaenyra, you and helaena camped on the mount for days, venturing to a different part of the mountain each day in search of dragons. at night, you shared a tent and kept eachother awake giggling and telling stories.

on the sixth day on the dragonmont, you met with the dragons dreamfyre and silverwing, who had belonged to two queens and sisters before you. after the pair of you successfully mounted the dragons and took to the skies, you returned to the beach of dragonstone with a renewed fire inside of each of you.

the night you returned to dragonstone's castle, a feast was held to jointly celebrate two dragons being claimed. you and helaena danced joyfully as the musicians played, and eventually you fell back to let your twin take your place. it was then you felt the first twist of jealousy in your stomach as jace made her laugh.

you snuck into the chamber helaena was staying in that night to recreate the little would you had when sharing a tent. that night, she had said to you before falling asleep, "you and i shall be bonded forever. dragon-bonded," she had said dreamily, then added, "soul-sworn."

before you could ask what she had meant by that, she was asleep.