- Eren Yeager x Fem!Reader - Satori Gojo x Fem!Reader (Fratjo)
• Smut
• MAIN-MASTER-LIST
• Art Credit - mochikuyo on tik tok
Warnings: Smut - piv, cunnilingus, fingering, munch and giver and needy Fratjo/Satori. Kind of asshole Eren, smoking, drinking, swearing, fighting, injury, mentioned vomiting, kind of love triangle
Synopsis: You go to Kaisen Tech as a cheerleader to cheer on your college’s football team – the Titans from Marley college. You’re on a friends with benefits agreement with Eren, but what happens when you toss in your old childhood friend Satori Gojo, twin brother to your best friend Satoru Gojo. It’s all fun and games, light laughter and booze at the frat party, but what about the actual game?
A/N: This was intended to be series, but I lowkey cba with doing all the links so here is 10k words HAPPY BIRTHDAY. First time posting smut/writing it properly kinda nervous. LMK what you think guys because I don't know if I'm actually any good at it.
10 years ago...
You stood there, the small pink teddy in your hands as you stared up at the twins. Your eyes brimmed with unblinking tears as you stared at their sour faces – Mr Gojo shaking your father’s hand behind them and Mrs Gojo and your mother giving each other a hug, faces pressed into each other's shoulders. You held out your hand to Satori first a small smile on your face, but he turned away and crossed his arms and sniffled. Satoru rolled his eyes and shouldered his brother out of the way and took your hand, tugging you into a gentle hug. You peered over his shoulder to look at Satori then, his eyes boring into yours before he looked away with a roll of his eyes – you stuck your tongue out at him.
“Y/n, come on!” Your dad called with a beep of the car horn. Satoru let you go with a weak smile, and you pulled the pink bear closer to your chest. The car horn sounded once, twice.
“Bye,” you whispered and harshly rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand. You walked past the twins, bumping your arm with Satori’s softly, on the way past. And as you pulled the car door open you paused for a second and stared at your whole life packed in those too-small-bags and wondered for a second if you should turn around: you didn’t. You took your seat behind your mum and buckled your seatbelt then smoothed your thumb over the fluffy pink ears.
“You said your goodbyes?” your dad asked, looking at you through the rearview mirror as he adjusted it. You bobbed your head short and sharp, eyes never leaving the bear.
Your mother reached around and rubbed at your knee cooing at you quietly. The small frown on her face made your eyes well up with tears once again. “Oh honey, it’s okay, I know you don’t want to leave, but nana needs us right now,” you looked up and blinked away the tears, “and I got Yuki’s phone number so you can call the twins.” You sniffled and picked at a thread on the bear.
Your father gave a few playful beeps of the car horn and pulled out of the driveway as you wordlessly said goodbye to your home, your room the twins who you had met when just babies.
You didn’t look out the window.
...and faces slowly turned into blurring tree lines as you drove down familiar streets and to the unknown.
The coach was loud as you picked at your nails – the chattering was breaking through the music that played from your headphones. You typed on your phone, not looking up as you took a strawberry sweet from the packet that Sasha had brought for you. Annie was quiet beside you as she stared out of the window. She was the cheerleading coach's daughter and an excellent gymnast; she helped you perfect a back handspring when you first joined. Sasha sat behind you with Hitch most likely talking animatedly to one another about some gossip. Mikasa sat in front with Historia talking to the teams on site doctor – Hange – from what you could see from between the gaps of the seats. You had joined the cheerleading team a couple of months after starting your first year at Marley College.
You initially hadn’t intended to join till Sasha pushed you too after literal minutes of meeting you when she had come to your joint accommodation with Mikasa, but you’re glad you had joined. You’d always thought that cheerleaders were shallow that had nothing going for them other than a pretty face, yet they were anything but. If Sasha hadn’t pushed you to join you would’ve probably ended up sat eating lunch hiding in your room. You sighed softly through your nose and placed another strawberry sweet in your mouth leaving your lips sticky.
Your phone began to buzz.
You startled and quickly answered the call making sure to turn your volume down some. “Hey,” the voice said and you smiled.
“Hey.”
“When do you get here?” he said.
You leaned over to Annie, “do you know how long we have left?” you asked quietly. The blonde girl shrugged not bothering to turn away from the window. “Soon,” you said as you leant back into your seat.
“Okay. You still coming tonight, right?...you promised.”
You laughed faintly, “Yes, as if I’d pass meeting little Satoru’s boyfriend.”
“I’m not little,” he sniped playfully and you laughed.
“Every day I wonder how you bagged such a pretty man Satoru, honestly, it’s a miracle,” you ribbed.
“He’s not my boyfriend -”
“- ah yes, sorry, fuck buddy,” you said and chewed on another strawberry sweet as Satoru gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m excited to see you though.”
“Me too, it’s been too long.”
“Ten years.”
“Ten years,” he breathed and paused for minute. You turned to look out the window before quickly turning away as you caught Annie’s eyes in the reflection, “Text me when you get here and I will kill you if you don’t come tonight. I only agreed to go to my stupid brother’s party because you said you’d go,” he explained and you could practically see him waving his hand around as he spoke.
“Yes, yes,” you sighed rolling your eyes. “Tell papa Gojo thanks for setting us up, must be nice having the dean as your daddy,” you licked as the stickiness on your lips, “nepo baby,” you coughed.
“Whatever, see you soon shithead.”
“Love you Satoru,” you sang.
“Love you too I guess,” he muttered back and you ended the call. Jumping slightly, you turned to look behind you as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You smiled at Sasha’s pouting of faux hurt and removed your headphones, sliding them into your bag.
“Was that Satoru?” she whined and you chuckled nodding your head. “I wanted to talk to him,” she said as she held out her hand. Jokingly, you mirrored her pout and passed her the half full bag of sweets.
“You’ll see him tonight,” Annie said as she turned away from the window to joining the conversation.
“I know,” Sasha drawled as she crunched on a sweet. She hummed as she stared up before startling suddenly, her finger pointing at Annie, “Don’t tell me the Annie Leonhart is coming,” she gasped.
Annie scoffed then paused. She hesitated a moment before nodding. Sasha giggled and clapped her hands. “Annie’s coming?” Mikasa asked from where she craned her head to look over the seat.
“Seems like it,” you said, smiling as you nudged her teasingly. Mikasa’s brows raising in surprise.
“Is this about Armin?” Historia said with a knowing smile from where she’d turned in her seat to join the conversation. Your eyes slid to peer at Annie, widening slightly at the faint pinkness on her pale cheeks. Historia hmphed in triumph, raising her head.
I smiled gently and Historia grinned back at me. “How’s Ymir Historia?” Annie asked, her head tilting and her voice layered with an eerie interest. Historia’s grin fell as her face grew red – Annie's lips quirked up. We laughed as the two glared at each other.
“I wouldn’t laugh Y/n.” You spun around at the sound of your name. Hitch smirked, “Eren all but cocked his leg and pissed on you like some fire hydrant,” you scrunched your nose as Sasha choked on her strawberry sweet. Hitch waved her hand, “claiming his territory or whatever,” she teased and raised her eyebrow in question.
You glared at her.
“How are you and Eren?” Mikasa asked softly/
“There is no ‘me and Eren’,” you quoted.
“Tell him that,” Sasha grunted and looked down with a smile.
You raised your hand, swivelling your head to look at everyone, “OK -”
“- Armin said you guys were pretty loud last night,” Annie chimed. Your mouth remained agape as your mind raced for some sort of reply while the blush climbed up your neck. Hitch gave a sound as though content in her ‘win’.
“I’m going to give that little blonde perv an earful when we get off this coach,” you muttered.
“Sounds like you already did,” Mikasa said slyly.
“You know what I meant,” you hissed ducking your head to hide the winning blush on your face.
The six of you cluttered around the room, the almost drowned out sound of ‘I love It’ played among to the hairdryer and chatter. “Jeans, skirt,” you paused swapping the coat hanger with jeans to the last option, “or dress?” you asked Hitch. She stared back at you through the mirror as she curled her hair, brow quirked in contemplation. “Skirt with the jersey” she said. Picking up the dress you pressed it to your towel clad body and stared at yourself.
“I hate this skirt,” you murmured.
“So, wear the dress.”
“But what if I bloat,” you cried.
“So, wear the jeans,” she sighed and picked a chunk of hair from the section she was curling currently. You picked the jeans up staring at them for a moment.
“But the button digs into me sometimes and what if I need to pee and I’m really drunk so I can’t undo them,” you said staring at the pair of baggy jeans. The girl rolled her eyes.
Hitch opened her mouth ready to speak. “Just wear the dress,” Annie said as she came to stand beside you in the mirror. You turned to look at her, your jaw going slack for a moment. The jeans she wore were baggy and the large-sequined-halter top she wore glittered under the fluorescent lights. She had small gold hoops in to match the gold top she wore, and her hair was pulled into a half up – half down bun style. And was she wearing makeup? You don’t think you’ve ever seen her wear makeup before.
“Are you wearing blush?” Hitch asked with a bemused smile, “and eyeshadow?”
“Shut up,” the blonde said as she turned to the side and continued to stare at herself in the mirror. Her lips shone with gloss, and you could see the faint lip liner she used.
Annie turned to look at you and raised a brow. You swallowed only now realising your mouth had been open the whole time. “Well?” she said raising her arms by her sides. Your small smile grew mischievous as you looked her over again.
“Kiss me,” you said trying to put as much seriousness into it as possible and leant in. She laughed and pushed your face away with the palm of her hand.
“Dress,” she quipped, finger waggling between you and the garment.
Gently, your fingers curled into the dark fabric. Quickly, you made your way to the bathroom and shut the door. Staring back at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth careful not to get toothpaste on your makeup then slid into the dress once you’d rinsed your mouth. You tied the bow at the back of your neck to keep the dress up and readjusted it, making sure the slightly ruffled skirt sat right.
You grabbed the clear gloss on the countertop and dabbed some on your lips, smoothing it out. The door clicked open and you turned around to look at Mikasa in her outfit. “Is everyone wearing jeans?” you moaned. She smiled and grabbed the gloss on the side and squeezed some onto her finger before applying while you perched on the lip of the bath. You slid your boots on.
“Nah, Sasha is wearing shorts, Hitch is wearing a dress, same as Historia,” she said as she wiped at some misplaced gloss and rubbed her lips together. Her shoes came into view as you slid on your last boot and zipped up the side. “Ready?” she asked offering her hand and you nodded in response, hand slipping into hers.
The walk to the frat house wasn’t too long under the long-turned dark sky, faint stars winking as you all walked in pairs, excitement bubbling. Muffled music sounded from the short distance and your steps hurried to the warmth.
You walked up the pathway to the door, “Satoru!” you called, waving your hand as you broke away from the group to greet your childhood friend with a giggle. He laughed as he hugged you gently, you pulled away and patted his cheek smiling up at him. He was tall, and lean, but you could see the muscle of his arm, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose, and you wondered for a second what Satori looks like now. Whether they still look the same or if Satori hadn’t grown into his long limbs like Satoru had, though you suppose the younger twin would be broader and packed with muscle – he did play football after all.
The man beside him cleared his throat and we fully pulled away. I smiled at the long dark-haired man. “Geto. Suguru, I’ve heard a lot about you Y/n,” he said with a kind smile offering his hand. You took his hand and shook it; his grip was firm but light and his dermal glinted in the light as he tilted his head. You let go of his hand and turned to look at Satoru.
You pointed at Geto, “He’s prettier in person,” you harshly whispered. Satoru bristled slightly with embarrassment as Geto laughed and wrapped an arm around the white-haired man’s waist. “Are you in the same frat as Satori?” you asked Suguru with a soft laugh.
“Unfortunately,” Satoru grumbled and scuffed his shoe on the ground. “These your friends?” he asked and nodded to behind you.
“Oh right!” you jumped and moved to the side to begin introducing your friends. You pointed, “This is Mikasa,” she gave a short wave, “Annie,” the girl nodded cooly and stuffed her hands in her pockets, “Historia -”
“- Hello,” she said smiling brightly,
“Hitch,” the girl waved and gave a small ‘hey’ as she stared at her phone, “and Sasha.”
“Hey,” the girl cheered.
“Y/n I think your dog is waiting inside for you,” Hitch laughed. She held up her phone for the group to look at. The text was a simple ‘where are you guys?’. You fished for your phone in your bag and unlocked it to read the flurry of ‘where are you?’ and ‘are you still coming?” texts. “Let’s go in before he pops a blood vessel,” she smirked and made her way to the door.
You walked beside Satoru, ‘dog?’ he mouthed wordlessly to you, and you rolled your eyes waving him off with a smile. Hitch pushed the large door open and the heat rolled out, licking at your skin. The music already reverberatting and bouncing off of every part of you as you stepped inside allowing the gaggle of people to swallow you whole. You pushed your way through the crowd, hand clasped in Satoru’s as you weaved between people.
You startled as a hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you into them. “Where have you been?” Eren asked, voice soft against the crook of your neck. Your turned around, letting go of Satoru’s hand.
You giggled and brushed your lips against the shell of his ear as you said, “I was getting ready, you’re so impatient.” You tucked yourself into his side and turned to the two men you walked in with.
“Friends of yours?” Eren asked and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Satoru and Geto,” you said pointing at the respective name holders.
“Satoru Gojo, right? I’m playing against your brother in two days, I think he’s in the kitchen somewhere,” he said, nodding his head back slightly. Satoru quirked his brow and mouthed, ‘dog?’ again as Eren’s mouth pressed to my cheek again. I smiled trying not to laugh.
“You’re playing Geto too, right?” You said to no one in particular – Suguru nodded. Eren ran his hands down your sides then pulled away and pointed behind him. Softly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen. It was less rammed here, but it was not empty. Leaning against the countertop you watched as Eren poured you four a shot of vodka and handed them out.
“To playing fair,” Eren smirked and raised the shot cup.
“To playing fair,” Geto mirrored and raised his to clink against Erene’s then tossed the shot back. You all followed suit, wincing as the flavour. “Do any of you want a drink?” Geto coughed, placing the empty shot cup on the side. Satoru nodded.
“Beer is fine,” you said and Eren nodded along. We watched as Geto grabbed four cans before passing the out. Eren jumped up on the side and pulled you to stand between his legs, taking the can out your hand and opened it for you, then his. You took a sip, happy to get the foul taste of the shot wiped from your tongue.
“Haven’t seen you properly yet,” he said, beer glistening on his lips as he smiled. Slowly he took your hand and spun you round. Eren whistled. His brow furrowed as he took you in, the eyebrow piercing becoming clear as it ducks from beneath where his hair fell out of the bun.
“Where’s the rest of your team?” you shouted over the music.
“I don’t know, last time I saw Jean and Connie they were with some guys that were covered in tattoos and Reiner and that lot I haven't seen since we got here,” he paused, “Been waiting for you,” he tilted his head and smiled. You swallowed thickly. You turned to look for Satoru, but he was busy whispering something in Geto’s ear.
“Shots?” You said and nodded your head to the side. Eren hummed and reached to grab the half empty vodka.
❀❀❀
You felt as though your skin was vibrating. A sticky-honey like warmth has been spreading through your body after the third beer and God knows how many shots. You pressed your body further into Eren’s as you rolled your bodies in time to the beat. “Spin,” he whispered, voice slightly husky from singing with you for a couple of songs and a slurring that became oddly attractive an hour ago.
How long have you been here for? You wondered.
You spun around. Eren’s thumb pressed between your bottom lip and chin. “Open,” he said as he leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your lips then pulled away, staring at you for a moment. Slowly, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. Eren lifter the bottle of tequila he’d found quarter full on the side and tipped it. The liquid was cool in your mouth and burned as you swallowed. Licking, your lips you watched attentively as Eren gulped down the last of the alcohol and you dragged the soft pad of your finger down his throat till it reached his chest, and you pressed your hand flat against t-shirt protected skin and splayed your fingers, feeling for the familiar thump of his heartbeat behind his rib cage.
As you stared at his face you wondered if he still had angry red scratch marks down his back, the hickies on his chest, the bite mark on his shoulder. You wonder if his teammates ever see them, if they say anything. His fingers squeezed your waist. “Eren!” someone shouted over the song you’d just been dancing to. “Eren!” the voice grew louder, less muffled and blocked. Jean and Connie flanked by two other guys came into view. “Hey-”
“Y/n,’ Connie and Jean said at the same time, and you waved at them both, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jean gave you a side hug and you laughed as you fist bumped Connie. “Eren, Y/n this is Sukuna and Choso,” Jean said pointing at either man. You waved at them. They were both sporting face tattoos and from the cut of larger man’s shirt – Sukuna – you could see more tattoos peeking out. “Me and Conna want to go play beer pong you in, these guys don’t want to play so we came to ask,” Jean said and Eren nodded eagerly taking a healthy swig from the bottle.
“Your woman?” ‘Sukuna’ asked Eren. Eren shook his head and jutted out his bottom lip. If you were back home in Marley he would’ve probably said yes, but you both agreed not to be exclusive were too young, but Mikasa thinks Eren caught feelings, but you said you both like to fuck around too much. Still Eren does get possessive sometimes, but that’s how you like him. He passed you the bottle and you had the last mouthful. You watched as Jean slung his arms around his two teammates as they walked away and were enveloped in the gaggle of people.
Awkwardly, you and the two men stood there for a moment. You looked at them, Sukuna was tall and clearly has many tattoos, his hair was pinkish brown which makes you think that it may have been dyed red at one point, what you didn’t expect was the tongue piercing that you got a little look at as he ran the bar over his lip. Choso was also tall though shorter than Sukuna and had a striking face tattoo that was a simple black strip over his nose reaching the length of about up to the middle of his pupil. You admired him for a minute his hair was pulled into bunches, and his clothes were well put together layers. “You smoke?”
“Huh,” you said, suddenly snapped out of your observations – that probably looked more like creepy staring from their point of view.
“You smoke?” he repeated a little louder this time and pulled a joint that sat tucked behind his ear.
“Yea. I man yes,” you said finding yourself nervous under his piercing gaze.
“That’s my cue,” Sukuna shrugged, patting Choso on the back – the shorter male rocking forward with the motion. “Bye pretty, hope to see you soon,” he said tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“He doesn’t smoke for weeks leading up to a game,” Choso sighed. “Come,” he said and pulled you with him to go outside.
❀❀❀
You shivered slightly, body missing the warmth as you sat shoulder to shoulder on the doorstep, skin glowing orange as Choso flicked his lighter to life and you leaned forward, joint thinly dangling from between your lips as he lit the end. Deeply, you inhaled and let the smoke constrict your chest then blew it out in a big swirling tinted cloud. You passed the joint to Choso. You watched him. Inhale...Exhale. You swallowed taking the joint from his fingers and licked your lips. Eyes sliding to look at the side of his face you inhaled and relished in the way it burnt your throat and left your mouth feeling dry as you exhaled. Choso was for lack of a better word beautiful, you thought as you passed the joint back.
Choso took a short drag, staring down at the joint as he turned it between his fingers he said through a mouth full of smoke, leaving his voice clipped and hoarse sounding, “You’re the twin’s friends yea?” Smoke drifted out of his nose. You nodded. “You know,” he started, he held out the joint for you to take – shaking your head he raised his eyebrows and went to put it back between his lips before pausing, “you’re lucky Sukuna didn’t put two and two together.”
“What do you mean?” You asked and tilted your head, turning fully to look at him now.
Choso dismissively waved his hand, “That you’re the Y/n that Satori has been talking about for the past week since Satoru told him you were coming to the party. If Sukuna had known you’d probably be in his room right now just to piss Satori off.” Your eyebrows flew up in surprise, Choso carried on, “Satori has a picture of you two back when you were kids framed in his room.” He dragged on the joint.
“Huh.” You’ve only kept in contact with Satoru, not for a lack of trying with Satori – he just ignored your texts until you finally stopped trying. “I’m going to go back in, drink some more before it wears off, you know,” you said already standing up. “You comin’?” Choso just raised the half-finished joint and you saw that as your cue to leave.
SATORI
He watched, squinting at the way you pressed your body to that guy. Eren Yeager, offence player – quarterback. So, what if he does research on the team he’s going to play? He needs to win. Satori looked toward the kitchen spotting his twin brother laughing at something Geto said. He looked down at the cup in his hand, the beer sloshed around as he swirled the last bit of his drink. Satori tossed it back with a gulp, wiping his mouth with his hand and made his way to the kitchen.
He slid between the huddles of people, clapping his teammates and housemates on the shoulder in a quick exchange. But his eyes remained on the two people dancing who were slowly disappearing in the throng of people. The kitchen lights were much brighter than the rest of the house, it made his head swim. Satori pretended to pick through the bottles of alcohol - “Satori.” He turned to look at his brother whose hair was messy and glasses missing. Satori looked at the two men for a moment, Satoru was definitely a few shots down from the way he shifted his weight and Geto stood there hand resting on his brother's hip, Satoru’s glasses hanging from the neckline of the jersey he wore and his eyes held something between haziness from alcohol and that lustful look people get.
Satori scrunched his nose, “Can’t you guys be gross somewhere else,” he said picking up a beer and unscrewed the cap taking a swig.
“Have you spoken to Y/n yet?” Satoru asked as he came to stand by his side filtering through the alcohol.
“Nope,” he hissed and took another swig from the bottle. Satoru hummed a little laugh escaping him. “What?” He said, placing his bottle on the side harder than he intended the beer frothing to the rim.
“Nothing it’s just,” his brother paused before sighing, “we both know why you haven’t responded to her for all these years.” Satoru turned to look at him and jutted his finger into his chest, “you’re still that same little kid that cried for two days after she left. The same teenager who used to wait and see if she liked his Instagram posts, poor little Satori,” he mocked with a pout and laugh. Satori smacked his hand away. His thumb wiped away the condensation that trickled down the side of his bottle, chewing on his cheek.
“Why is she dancing with him?” he spat.
“Huh,” Satoru said and looked toward the crowd. “Oh, you mean Eren,” he laughed, “I guess you could say they’re fuck buddies.” Satori’s back straightened and he looked toward where the two of them were, now covered with other dancing people that Satori doesn’t even recognise. Fuck buddies? He thought, his hand tightening against the neck of the bottle as he brought it to his mouth.
“Fuck buddies,” he sneered and let the cool liquid pour into his mouth.
“Huh, she’s leaving with Choso,” Geto said teasingly. Satori coughed and pressed his hand to his mouth.
“What?” he rasped. Eyes trained on her, he watched as you walked out the door with his housemate. “I didn’t know she was into that,” he muttered.
“Into what?” Geto asked a small smile on his lips.
“Into weed, does she smoke? Since when does she smoke?” he rushed and turned to look at the two stood beside him.
“I don’t know, though maybe you would if you had ever bothered to reply to her.” Satoru clicked his tongue rolling his eyes. “Come on Suguru let’s go upstairs,” he turned to look at Satori, “to your room, you know how much I like your bed Suguru,” Satoru said with a smile.
“You’re disgusting,” Satori cringed. Geto laughed and took his brother’s hand, ruffling his hair as they passed by him. “You’re both disgusting!” he called after them. He shook his head softly and drank more beer eyes stuck to the door that had closed behind you. He chugged his drink. The bottle clicked as he slammed it down and reached for one of the cups they’d bought earlier that day, pouring a healthy amount of some cheap shit Sukuna had bought for them. “Stingey bastard.” He gulped down the brown liquid and poured himself another. He gulped it down. Another. He gulped it down.
Again...
And again...
And again.
Satori hissed through his teeth, wincing at the burn in his stomach, the itchy tickle in his throat. The lights hurt his eyes. Yet they stay on the big white door and finally, finally you walk back through. His palms grew clammy and mouth dry while he watched you. Watched the way you laughed. The way your friend fixed the falling strap on your dress. At how you nodded at something she said and took the cup from the girl’s hand finishing it off then the other cup she pressed into your hands.
You looked away.
Looked at him.
Looked directly at him and tilted your head to the side with a smile waggling your fingers to wave at him. Fucking wave at him. His jaw clenched as he followed your body as your friend took your hand in hers and pulled you into the group dancing. Tongue pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes tracked the sway of your body as the two of you rolled to the beat together, bodies pressed to one another, laughing.
The song changed.
Pour. Toss back. Grab a bottle. Unscrew the cap. Swig. He watched you, eyes piercing. He sipped at the beer contemplating for just a moment. A belated breath. Heavily, he breathed out of nose. Another swig of beer and placed it on the side, fingers dragging across the sticky marble, bottle now disregarded – head held high, heart racing – he all but stuck out his chest in determination and walked over to you. Satori pushed past couples and ignored the people who called his name because all he cared about in that moment was the way you were now looking back him with that smile.
“Satori,” you said. You stopped dancing and your friend turned to look at you, pausing to look at him. “This is Sasha,” you said grinning.
He looked down to the brown-haired girl and grinned, “Satori,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m just going to steal your friend away for a second if you don’t mind?” he asked sweetly though his tongue pressed into his cheek. His eyes drifted between the silent exchange between you and ‘Sasha’. The brunette waved bye to you she walked away saying something about ‘Hitch’ and ‘Mikasa’ from what he could make out over the music. He nodded to her as she passed and she eyed him before melting into the party.
You turned fully to look at him. Eyes tracing your body, the way your hips curve and your tits are trying to escape your dress Satori thought you looked better in person than all those nights he spent looking at the pictures you post (particularly that one of you and your friends at the beach and you were wearing that little red bikini). “Satori,” you chimed. He blinked and met your eyes catching the way you smirked. You raised onto your toes, your lips ghosting his skin as you whispered, “wanna dance or are we going to stand here all night and pretend you’re not staring at my boobs?” He swallowed thickly nodding his head. “Good,” you breathed.
You lowered down and pulled his body flush against yours by the waistband of his shorts. He looked up at the ceiling, trying not to flush at the way you wrapped your hand around the nape of his neck. “Satori,” you sang. His eyes flicked down to you, to your lips – at the way the gloss shone and your eyes were bright, but hooded. “Dance with me.” You spun around, your back pressed to his and your ass to his crotch. Your hands were gentles when wrapped round his wrists as you placed his hands on your hips. Your body began to roll to the beat. His fingers pressed into the flesh of your hips. Your hand went back to the nape of his neck. His head fell forward and he breathed in. Your hair smelt like conditioner and hairspray, but most of all he could smell you, just you.
He rolled his body in time with yours.
Your hand squeezed and your nails scratched softly at his skin.
“I’m sorry I didn't reply to your texts,” he said. You stopped. His hips bumped into you and his hands squeezed tighter to keep your body from rocking forward.
“It’s okay,” you paused and turned to look at him eyes peering into his own, “but why?”
“You broke my heart,” he said. Quickly he bit his tongue and watched you for any sort of expression, rejection. But you just smiled. You smiled so softly. So sweetly. As though you were six again and patching his knee up after he’d scraped it when he fell, but neither of you were those little kids anymore.
And he held his breath as you opened your mouth and said, “I guess you broke mine a little too.” His heart pounded – he could hardly hear the music over the rush in his ears. You swayed your hips to the song. Picking right up where you had left off. “Let bygones be bygones, besides were not little kids anymore,” you drawled and he let you rake your eyes over him. You licked at your lips, “were definitely not little kids anymore.” Satori spun you back around and pulled you back flush against him, impossibly closer.
His hand travelled up your stomach, fingers splayed as the tips of them brushed just under your breast. He paused. You tipped your head back and it hit his chest – your eyes shut and a content smile rested on your pretty face that made your eyes crinkle, the red on your cheeks was faint from the heat and he could see on your chest where you’d spilt some of your drink. His hand moved up, finger tapping against your collar bone to the silent beat of your heart that tantalised with the song, and you lifted your head.
He leant down. Paused for a second. His lips brushed against the skin just behind your ear. He pressed a kiss there. Then further down. And down. And down. Till his lips sucked lightly (light enough not to leave a mark) on your collar bone – the one left unattended and well he couldn’t have that now, could he? You shifted. He stopped, head flying up and a flurry of apologies ready to tumble from his lips, but you turned around and looked at him. Your hand grabbed his jaw. You pulled him down. He closed his eyes.
Your lips pressed against his, your hand still having a tight hold on his jaw and Satori melted into it. He leaned away, eyes fluttering open and there you stood in all your glory. He leaned back down and kissed you, hard. Your mouth opened, his tongue slipping in and slid over yours. You sighed and he swallowed it greedily. He breathed, “Come on,” he whispered against your lips before pulling away, eyes watching yours, searching for rejection, his stomach churning some. Then, you nodded.
Quickly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. Weaving through the crowd, stumbling sum as he turned to look back you. You were staring at your joined hands. He squeezed and tugged you along. Stopping, he fumbled with the door handle of the bathroom, hand shaking with nerves. The door pushed open and he ushered you in, peeking his head out of the door before shutting it with a click of the lock.
He turned to face you. Chest rising and falling in a breathless chase for air. You reached for him. He was there, hand tangled in your hair and the other pressed against the small of your back as his lips crashed against yours. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart and both of your breathlessness desperation. You quietly whined and he scooped you up, blindly placing you on the vanity and you fell back. He chased your lips, hand reaching to press against the mirror as he opened his eyes to stare at you. Your hair was wild, lips swollen and smeared with pink from the gloss. He groaned and leant in to kiss you again. Wholly and fully. He licked into your mouth as your tongue glided under his.
Your hand pressed between his shoulder blades as he braced his hands on the countertop, knuckles turning white. He ducked down and kissed under your chin as your head fell back against the wall. Satori’s eyes closed as he trailed open mouth kisses down your neck. And down. And further until he could no longer reach any skin.
YOU
You observed him. Observed the way he looked at you, at the way he quietly watched to see if you’d back down. Your skin prickled at the sensation of his hands sliding under your knees as he pulled you forward, eyes still gazing into yours, so oddly swirled with lust, longing and kindness. He took a step back then leant forward to capture your lips with yours, his elbows pressing against the countertop where you were perched. He shuffled back some more, eyes boring into yours as he leant down, lips connecting with your inner thigh.
You sucked in a breath, your stomach tightening. He kissed down, leaving a tingling blaze in their wake. You blew out a shaky breath as his own ghosted over your underwear. “Please?” he whispered.
“What?” you said breathlessly as his hands moved to cup the back of your knees.
“Please. Please,” he said. He looked up from where he’d disappeared between your legs and your chest squeezed. His hair was a mess; his pupils were blown. Your lip gloss was smeared across his kiss-swollen lips. “Please,” he murmured and you nodded.
“Yes,” you breathed. And he made a noise at the back of his throat as his brows creased. Terribly slow he reached under the skirt of your dress and pulled your lace panties down till he had them grasped tightly in his hand. He sunk back between your thighs and pulled your legs up to rest on his shoulders.
His breath fanned across your pussy for a second then... His tongue dragged up your folds and swirled around the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Teasingly, he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your thigh, then to your clit. He sucked at you, his teeth lightly grazing it and you jolted at the sensation. He sucked harder and your head fell back once again, your hand threading through his white hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He moaned against you, and you sighed at the vibration. Your eyes downcast to watch him as he messily ate at you, to watch the way his fingers flexed and dimpled into the plushness of your thighs.
Satori pulled away from you for a beat, eyes peering at you over the bunched skirt of your dress. You reached to him and dusted your thumb over his cheekbone smiling as he leant into the touch and closed his eyes. He dipped his tongue back into you, lapping at your folds as your hole clenched around nothing. Hand pressed to your mouth your chest felt heavy as you gasped for breath as his tongue experimentally pushed into you. He licked a fat stripe up to your clit once again and he pressed a kiss. He sucked on your clit, softly then harder, harder until your hand no longer muffled your cries.
He pressed his tongue flat against you. “Satori,” you breathed your chest constricting till you felt as though you could no longer breathe. He hummed in acknowledgment, the muscle in your leg twitching and tightening. He licked at you possessively. It was like he couldn't get enough, he pushed into you, nose pressing against your clit as he continued to lap at you. “Satori,” you gasped as you felt yourself release on his face, that familiar yet not so familiar coil tighten then spring loose. Your eyes clenched shut as you rocked against his face, body twitching and writhing as he didn’t let up.
“Satori,” you whispered. You fisted his hair tugging his head up. You breathed heavily as you ogled him, his face shone with your arousal and release. His head lolled to the right as he licked his lips. You shakily moved your legs off his shoulders, eyes never leaving him as he stood to his full height and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Slowly, he held out his hand opening it, letting your panties hang off one of his slender fingers. You flushed and grabbed them, your hands trembling as you put them back on, the fabric feeling odd on your soaked and sensitive pussy.
You slid off the vanity, pulling your dress back down. His thumb swiped at the corner of his mouth, and he smiled devilishly at you. Mouth opening and closing you tried to find the words, but the piercing ring of your phone broke the silence you’d both curated. You bag buzzed with the vibration of your annoyingly bad timing ring tone, and you searched for it. ‘Sasha < 3’.
You sighed, and answered, “Hello?”
“Finally! I need your help; I can’t find Hitch and Mikasa and -” You grimaced and pulled your phone away from your ear at the sound of someone retching, “- Annie is currently throwing up,” Sasha rushed.
“How much did she drink?” You asked and looked at yourself in the mirror smoothing out your hair and wiping the lip gloss from around your mouth.
“I don’t know, but it must have been a lot. I’ve been holding her hair back for what feels like an hour now. I mean she doesn’t even drink! -”
“-It’s okay Annie-,” came Historia’s voice quietly over the line.
“- I found her in here, some girl walked past me and was like ‘I think your friend is like seriously drunk, she’s passed out in there,’” Sasha mimicked. “Y/n can you round up Hitch and Mikasa so we can leave?” she pleaded. You sighed, your chest feeling heavy with guilt for leaving your friends.
“Yea. Yes okay, I’ll be right there once I get the other two and I’ll text you when were outside waiting for you guys.”
“Okay,” she said with relief in her voice.
“Okay, see you soon.” You tossed you phone back into your bag and slung it over your shoulder.
“Everything alright?” Satori said, smoothing out your hair.
“Yes,” you paused and chewed on the inside of your cheek, “No, I need to find my friends.” You looked up at him, and it dawned on you that you never gave anything in return. “Shit, I could, I mean, if you want,”you stumbled.
He laughed, “Nah, I’m all good.” He looked away from you and scratched at the back of his head.
“Okay.” You pulled his face to yours and kissed him gently. “Bye,” you murmured against his mouth and let his chin go turning to leave. The lock clicked and you halted wondering if you should turn around or not.
You opened the door and left.
It was the night before the game – you'd spent the better half of yesterday sleeping off a mean hangover. But tonight, you were kissing Eren. You always fucked before a game; he called you his good luck charm. You chuckled as he dragged a finger over your ribs, his hand trailing up to paw at you, kneading the soft flesh of your boob, his other hand between your thighs as his fingers fucked you open. He pressed his lips to yours and you moaned softly into his mouth.
He removed his fingers from you, your mouth going dry as he stuck them in his mouth. He kissed you again. And again. And again. Until you were out of breath. He leant over you, the key he wore around his neck dragging across your chest as he grabbed a condom. Your fingers twirling your hair as you watched him roll it on and firmly pumped his hand down his shaft, once, twice. “On your stomach,” he said.
You rolled over, eyes fluttering closed as he pushed into you with a sighing grunt. He rocked into you gently, his hand pressing you further into the mattress. He quickened his pace and with his other hand he threaded his fingers with yours. The sound of his hips hitting the supple skin of your ass accompanied by the sound of your pussy was lewd and left you mewling, digging your face into the pillow.
Eren, gingerly traced a pattern on your back. He moved your hair to the side, planting a kiss at the top of your spine. His movement stopped and you whined muffled by the fabric of the pillow as he wrapped his arm around your chest pulling you up. His thighs and arm supporting you as he began to fuck into you again faster than before, the drag of his cock delicious against your walls. His name tumbling from you parted lips in a flurry like water from a waterfall. He breathed your named back against the shell of your ear and sucked and licked and kissed and nipped at the skin he could reach making your walls tighten around him. He moaned as your pussy tried to suck him in deeper.
“Relax else I’m not going to be able to move. I’m not going anywhere pretty,” he whispered.
“M’kay,” you muttered back through a gasp as he bucked his hips into you. His hand let go of yours and grabbed your jaw – you turned your head and his mouth met yours, your tongues sliding along one another as you both swallowed each other's moans. He pulled away, forehead pressing to yours, eyes closed. Your mouth was agape as you breathed, choking on a whimper, his hand pressed down on the bulge as he bullied his cock into you. You pressed a kiss to corner of his mouth. Your walls fluttered as you came around his cock and he made a guttural sound as he felt your release.
Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, his jerking thrusts into you not stopping as he chased his own release desperately. He hummed and his head fell forwards, mouth pressing to your shoulder, your skin was hot and pushed your fingers through his hair as his hips stuttered. His movement becoming sloppy and you felt him twitch as he came, his hand moving to your hip to tug you flush down onto him.
His hand patted your ass, and you sat up on your thighs letting him pull out, leaving you feeling empty and your hole constricting at the foreign emptiness. You twisted and fell on your back, trying to catch your breath. Eren fell beside you, leaning over smattering kisses on the side of your face and you laughed trying to push his head away. You rested your head on his chest letting his dull nails scratch at your head soothingly while you listened to his thundering heart. “So,” he started and swallowed trying to catch his own breath, “did you fuck anyone at the party?”
“Maybe,” you hummed.
“Oh?” he smiled and pinched your nose.
You smacked his hand away, “Kind of?”
“Kind of?” He asked and turned on his said, resting his hand on his fist – you mirrored his pose.
“Did you?”
“Maybe,” he drawled with amusement.
“Oh?” you retorted copying his earlier sentiment.
“Kind of?” he teased. He feigned hurt, “Was he better than me?” You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead. He laughed and planted a kiss to your hair. “Shower?” he said already getting off the bed.
“God yes,” you chimed. Eren smiled and grabbed your hand tugging you to him. His hands squeezed your cheeks, and he kissed your puckered lips sweetly before helping you off the bed. You giggled and tried to run as he swatted at your behind as you walked in front of him
When you woke up the girls were already eating breakfast in the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes yawning as you walked in. “Good morning,” you greeted and began making yourself a large helping of cereal.
“Have fun last night?” Mikasa smirked.
“What?” You asked, spoon halfway to your mouth.
“Looks like a vampire attacked you,” Sasha laughed.
“For fuck’s sake. Hitch-” you started and smacked a hand over your neck.
“Yes, I’ll do it after my makeup,” the girl said not even looking up from her bowl.
“You’re all just mad that I’m getting some,” you said as you squinted and pointed at the laughing group. “Where’s Annie?” You said as you sat beside Mikasa who was peering at your neck. She laughed as you gave her the finger.
“She didn’t come home last night,” Historia laughed, “She went to go see Armin.” You smiled.
“Seems like you’re not the only one getting some,” Sasha coughed.
“Are you sure you weren’t attacked by a vampire,” Mikasa chortled as she prodded your neck.
“Oh, be quiet. It isn’t that bad,” you flushed and shoved a spoonful of cornflakes into your mouth.
❀❀❀
You always loved the atmosphere of game night, everyone excited and riled up, getting to watch the boys play and cheer with your team. It always left adrenaline running high though the crash isn’t great afterwards. Your team was winning currently so that just made the whole experience that much better. Eren was playing the best you’ve ever seen him.
You shook your pom poms as your team scored again. Your crowd cheered ‘Titans’ louder than you could hear yourself think. You continued to cheer spurring on the crowd, your back to the game. Your smile is bright, the team’s costumes are perfect, you’re all in synch, your hair is done and the makeup on your neck hasn’t been sweat off yet. Everything is going just how it's meant to...
“BOO!” the crowd roared. Your steps faltered and you stumbled into Historia who had stopped only she wasn’t looking at crowd, no, she was looking at the field. At the game. At the players. You lowered your arms and slowly turned around confused. “What the fuck?” you whispered as you looked at the field.
Two players were fighting, their teammates trying to wrestle them away from each other. Whistle were being blown. The crowd was screaming. Players were shouting. Coaches were storming onto the field. “It’s Eren and Satoru’s brother,” Historia whispered to you.
“What?” you asked incredulously. Your stupid pom poms fell from your hands, and you ran up to stand next to Mikasa who was stood near the line on the field. “What’s going on?” you urged.
She didn’t turn to look at you; she just stood staring. “I don’t know they just started fighting.” You frowned as you watched the two finally be pulled apart.
“What the fuck?” You said to yourself as the coaches scolded them in the distance. The two were slowly being escorted off the field, your heart sped up as they came closer. You and Mikasa both turned to watch as they exited the field. You scowled at both of them. Eren’s nose was bleeding, his helmet was off and hair wild, Satori’s eyes was already beginning to turn a grim red, and his hair was half grass. As they walked past neither of them looked up, they both stared at the grey concrete ground as they walked to their bench to be seen to by the onsite medic. “I think,” you swallowed. “I think I made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?” she questions, finally turning to face you.
“I hooked up with Satori the night of the party.”
“But I thought you and Eren were friends with benefits, outside of campus anyways,”
“We are. But I think that Satori probably didn’t know or he has feelings for me,” you sighed and looked towards the benches eyeing Eren the Satori “I mean I have a slight memory of him saying I broke his heart.”
“Oh, my fucking sanity,” he dragged her hand over her face, "Why are men like this? I told you women are better.”
“After you said they’re evil! And I like dick too much to become a lesbian,” you pouted.
20 MINUTES EARLIER – EREN
Eren ran back to the team. They cheered as they circled him patting me on the back, some on the helmet. He began walking back to his place, pausing as a smirk grew on his face. Satori Gojo, one of the best or so he’s been told. Nothing wrong with a little friendly fire, some light-hearted teasing right? He thought to himself. “Hey, Gojo!” he called out to the Kaisen player. The tall man didn’t even move he just stood staring into the crowd. Eren stood next to him. “I thought you were one of the best, but it turns out you’d rather people watch,” Eren said with a chuckle.
Gojo spun turned his head and eyes him, “I am one of the best,” he said, his brow scrunched and clear distaste on his tongue.
Eren adjusted his glove, “Well,” he drawled, “It doesn’t feel like I’m playing on of the best. This might as well be a rigged game. What’s got you staring off into the crowd so intently instead of playing anyways?” Eren watched as Gojo bristled slightly and he nodded. Chuckling he said, “Ah, or should I say who.” He followed the white-haired player’s line of eyesight to the cheerleaders. His team’s cheerleaders. Hischeerleader. “This is about Y/n?” he wondered aloud. Eren thought back on their post-sex conversation the other night, how you’d said you ‘kind of’ hooked up with someone.
And you chose this fool? He rolled his eyes. “So, you’re the one she hooked up with at the party,” Gojo turned towards him, shock clear on his face for a second before he schooled it back into a scowl, “Ohyeah, she mentioned it. After I fucked her,” he sneered.
“What?” Gojo all but growled.
“Don’t worry man. I get it she’s a good fuck. I mean that pussy is addictive,” he whistled as watched you cheer with your team in the distance.
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“What? Man lighten up,” he batted him on the chest, “It’s just a joke and you’ve gotta admit she is one hell of a woman I mean the minute you get a taste you’re hooked. I can ask her tonight after I fuck her if she’ll give you a pity blow-” Eren was cut short. Suddenly, he was on the floor. He ripped off his helmet. “What the fuck? I was just joking you idiot!” He shouted getting to his feet, tossing his arms up.
Gojo tore off his helmet, dropping it to the ground, “I said don’t talk about her like that!” he snarled. “Have some fucking dignity. And let her have hers. You shouldn’t go around saying shit like that.”
“Well, she ain’t yours. Hell, she ain’t even fully mine, but at least she’s partially mine,” he mocked and pointed his finger in the other’s face, “I’m guessing that’s more than you ever had of her and will have,” Eren seethed.
Gojo flew forward, his fist raised until it was suddenly knocking Eren back, sending him stumbling. Eren surged forward, hastily removing the gloves from his hands and tossing them to the field. He lurched forward and punched Gojo in the jaw – the white-haired player followed suit and removed his own gloves and rolled his jaw – Eren cocked his head to the side and pressed his tongue into his cheek with his brows raised.
They both ran at each other. Their hands both fisted into each other’s jerseys as they fell and rolled on the grass. Eren straddled Gojo and slammed his fist down into the side of the man’s face. Gojo reached up grabbing a handful of Eren’s hair pulling him down, smacking his head against the hard dirt. He raised his on fist sending it flying into Eren’s nose – Gojo couldn’t hear the crunch, but he could imagine it as the blood began trickling, smearing across his knuckles and some sort of wickedly twisted anger and satisfaction curled in his gut.
Eren jerked his knee up with as much force as he could muster, kicking Gojo off him. Through a haziness of red and spinning green he clambered on top of the opposing team player and pressed his hand against his chest. “She isn’t yours!” he roared up at him and Eren leaned to the side and spat out some blood.
“No. But she isn’t your either,” he smiled, running his tongue across his teeth, tasting the metallic iron of blood in his mouth. Gojo sat up, smashing his head into Eren’s and quickly grabbing another fistful of hair. Eren pressed his hand against Gojo’s cheek and leant forward using his body weight as leverage, causing his head to turn at an old angle that’d definitely be sore in the morning. Gojo hissed in pain and Eren grit his teeth as Gojo pulled harder on his hair. He pressed his thumb against the underside of his jaw, and he watched the rise and fall of Gojo’s chest as he struggled for deep breaths through his nose.
“That’s enough!” someone called from behind him. Eren just stared down at the man beneath him, his eyes set and glaring – Gojo's defiant and restless. He stood up and snatched his helmet from the ground, but Gojo was there and he tackled him Eren’s chin smacked into the ground and his teeth clacked together. He listened as Gojo shouted to be let go as he was pulled off him and Eren stood to his feet. He whirled around making a beeline for the man, his hand with his helmet in its grip raised.
Arms wrapped under his shoulders and tugged him back. “I said that’s enough!” Reiner shouted and Eren protested thrashing and shouting at the man just mere metre in front of him.
“Eren!” somewhere Jean shouts his name, but before he could respond he spots his coach storming over to him. He dropped his head.
“What are you doing?” Coach Levi seethed. The small hot-headed man come to stand in front of him. “Not only have you embarrassed me and Mr Erwin, the dean of Marley college. But you’ve also embarrassed everyone who came all the way here to support you,” he paused and look him up and down before clicking his tongue. “You should be ashamed,” Levi spat. Eren nodded and peered around his coach, it seems like Gojo is getting the same treatment from Coach Yaga – he bites his tongue to hold back his smile.
Warily, Reiner lets go of him and patted him on the back. “Come on! We need to get you checked by Dr Hange,” Coach Levi said sourly already marching off the field. Eren followed, his head lowered and eyes pointed down, watching every step he took. He dreads having to walk past you, he knows he won’t be able to look you in the eye. When he does walk past you it seems Gojo had the same thought as him.
• HCS | 1k | ☀︎ | Ft. Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie - The boys with piercings, relationship descriptions and how you met
➾ JJK men
• HCS | 1k+ | ⭐︎ | Ft. Nanami, Suguru, Gojo, Toji - Relationship descriptions and how you met one another also tattoos and jewellery descriptions
• Them on their knees for you | 1k | ♡ | Ft. Gojo, Toji, Suguru - Short stories/drabbles of what the JJK Men would do before and after they get on their knees for you
• Their reaction to you asking to go on top | 2k | ♡ | Ft. Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Toji, Sukuna - JJK Men's reactions to you asking if you can go on top in scenarios
➾ JJK supplements
• Water gun Madness | 477 | ♧ | Ft. Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara - It was a hot summer day with water guns thrown into the mix. Megumi, Itadori and Reader/You what could possibly happen?
Synopsis: It was mere days after the news of Lucerys’s death and yet some are quick to revenge, some stew in grief and some ignore it all entirely. War doesn’t stop for no one; it’s paid in spilt blood. Daemon seems ready to play the game and pray the price. You watch as everything begins to unfold.
A/n: So, we finally have officially started part 2, chapter 2 of ‘Love Is A War’ series. As usual I am going episode by episode. I’m sorry for the literal year long awaited part 1, but I have been extremely busy and only just mustered enough motivation to do it (there’s also the fact that I have to do this off DVDs and research). I do hope you all enjoy. Lots of love, DRB.
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I rode fast. The wind licking at my cheeks causing them to pinken with the biting cold. The riding leathers sat snug and warm around my body keeping the chill out as I dove before the rows of high-topped trees that stretch as far as the eye could see. I pulled up slightly falling from the soothing smooth silvery scales of Selene’s back before righting myself. The trees shook their dying leaves from their branches as we flew over. I leaned forward my eyes blistering with tears as we went impossibly faster.
I pulled up.
Soaring, the low-risen-sun kissed at the membrane of Selene’s wings as we flew over the cliff’s edge. The sea lapped at the rocks and hissed. We lowered and a great claw split the sea in two as we continued. Dragon Stone coming into view, its high walls pushing through cloud. Selene beat her wings. I sat up, my back cracking softly from the strain of leaning forward for so long.
Again, we rose up, to enter the mouth of the dragon keep, Selene’s wings fluttering slightly as she softened her landing. Carefully, I climbed off, thighs aching from keeping myself from falling off, I brushed my hand across the scales of her neck, that still gleamed in the shadowed walls and the dragon grumbled a bit in response as though she was proud. “You shouldn’t ride without a saddle my Lady, it is...improper” a dragon keeper said as he watched me pull the leather gloves from my slightly shaky hands.
“As I keep telling her,” the voice interrupted as it echoed slightly. I looked up from my reddened fingers to look at my father. His eyebrows were raised and a slight smile on his lips as he watched me approach, though no humour danced in his tired eyes. I stopped just before him. My eyes dragging down his armour that glinted with the faint orange glow of the torches.
“I suppose you’re plotting something as usual father, going to King’s Landing, are we?” I snarked and pushed past him, more speed rushing me along, my back aching and hands cramped.
“I suppose,” he mused, “I was going to kill your lover but,” he spat, pausing and I stopped, turning to face him, “unfortunately your grandmother refused her aid to my mission and only a fool would go alone,” he chortled a slight glint in his eye.
“He is not my lover or anything of the sort, he’s an enemy to the queen. My queen. Thus, he is my enemy too and your...ridiculous scheme for me to come with you will not and is not working father.”
I turned around, the sound of my steps trailing behind me, his laugh lost and left in the dragon keep to only haunt his ears.
--------------
The maid drained the bath as I pulled my hair neatly into a braided crown. She helped me into the deep-red coloured dress, its finery scratching my skin softly. Gently, she smiled as she took her station beside the door waiting for me to finish slipping my shoes on.
I stood, she knocked once, twice on the wooden doors that got tugged open at the quiet rapping of knuckles and I walked out, the cold causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand as I continued too the chamber of the painted table where we were to await Rhaenyra.
Everyone, but my father stood there awaiting to receive the queen, hands clasped behind their back and chattering to themselves. I smiled at my sisters who smiled and bobbed their head in a small nod of greeting as I came to stand by Baela’s side. “How long have you been here?” I whispered.
“We only arrived moments ago,” Rhaena whispered back. I looked at them both then, their hair pulled away from their faces, both clad in red and something funny swam in my stomach. Red suited them yet, when I look at them all I see is my mother, who smiled brightly and shone in blue like the sea that reflected the waking sun’s light. My face soured. My eyes slid over to my father as he walked in and stood a little ahead of everyone else, he fidgeted slightly, his weight shifting.
“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Erryk announced. My spine snapped straight. My head held high.
Rhaenyra walked through the archway, her stride fast and deliberate. Her eyes held shadows, her skin paler than usual, her body haunted and tired as my father walked over to her. He pressed his forehead to hers as they whispered amongst themselves. I squinted at them; at the way his hand settled at the crease of her arm and how she nodded her head sharply though with a slight wobble whether it was eagerness or fatigue I could not tell. They pulled apart and Rhaenyra drifted around us to the head of the table, her eyes downcast.
“Your council stands at the ready, Your Grace.” My father said, stern. My sisters and I moved to stand at his left as he joined us at the table, taking the position opposite his wife, my stepmother. He braced his hands on the table, leering over the map, clear and assertive he said, “I will fly to Harrenhal at your command and set our toehold in the Riverlands.”
Rhaenyra didn’t reply. Shakily she stood in front of the fireplace, the glow illuminating the grim on her skin and the wildness of her long blonde hair. “Your Grace, my lord husband’s blockade of the Gullet moves into place. All seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing will soon be cut off,” Rhaenys said, her eyes stuck on the painted table. The seven kingdoms glowing, flickering with the sputtering fire beneath.
The room grew quiet, eerily slow as Rhaenyra shifted and swallowed. Slowly, she pressed her hand to the table, “I want Aemond Targaryen,” she announced, voice thick. My skin prickled at the name, my eyes falling shut for a moment before opening again. Rhaenyra stared at my father; brow creased in determination as she then met the gaze of everyone else. Her eyes felt as though the bore into mine. Sweat clustered on my skin as her piercing gaze shifted. And step by step she departed from the table. Our heads bowed as she walked past. My eyes were wide and breath coming out shakily as she ascended the steps.
My hands began trembling again. I looked to my sisters who watched me for a moment, Rhaena took my hand in hers and squeezed. “Jace,” Baela said and bowed her head. He waved her off with a weak smile, his eyes pointed at me. He looked much older than the last time I had cast my gaze upon him, he looked maturer, though I’ve heard the North would do that to you. Baela gently rubbed his shoulder as she mapped his face with bright eyes and a soft comforting smile.
“I’m sorry for your loss, my prince,” I bowed, my expression grim. No matter how much older he looked, he still looked the same as Lucerys, their dark and curled hair paired with the same dark eyes. Jacaerystoo, looked haunted, just like his mother. Even with my head still bowed I could feel his eyes on me.
“May I have a moment alone with your sister,” he said. My head tipped back up, catching the smile he gave Baela, warmth fluttered in my chest, something ugly tangled in my gut. “Y/n?” I nodded and he offered me his arm. My hands were clammy as I let go of Rhaena’s hand and gave my two younger sisters a small wave goodbye, looping my arm with the boy man who stood straight faced and waiting.
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We stood in front of the large skull of Meraxes. Though the eye socket remains hollow, it still feels as though she is peering at us, listening and watching. I briefly wondered if Queen Rhaeys had told Meraxes to watch over her kin, whether she told her secrets in the privacy of the dark. “I haven’t seen you since,” he started, the words getting caught in his throat as he swallowed thickly. We stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped behind our backs as we stared at the skull. “I half expected you to be sporting green upon my return when you hadn’t been there this morning,” he said, eyes still forward.
My head whipped to look at him, quickly I said, “Jacaerys, you saw me bend the knee I -”
“I am pleased you are not, though I must admit the thought of you two having lay together still torments me, causes me great anger,” he spoke, voice shaky but still clear.
“We never,” I paused and he turned to look at me then, his eyes were soft and I looked down as to not meet them, “I never intended, it was merely an affair of love born from childish dreams,” I whispered.
He breathed, “So it was. Love, then.”
“It was,” I sighed, “But I am loyal to this house, my sisters, my family, my Queen and you...as well as the memory of your brother, let him not die in vain.” Jaecerys blinked quickly and turned away as he cleared his throat. Softly, I took his hand in mine and peered round to look at him. “You have grown,” I said, “No longer a boy, but a man and a strong one at that.” I squeezed slightly; he squeezed back as he huffed a laugh. For a moment we just watched each other in mutual fondness and familiarity. We are no longer children.
“Jacaerys, your mother has requested you,” Baela said. Our hands fell apart from where they were once joined and I smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder. Baela stood in the entryway, her skin glowedsoftly and her head tilted ever so slightly to the right as she held out her hand for him to take. I turned back towards the large skull and let out a shaky breath. The itching of my skin becoming harder to ignore.
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We stood on the cliff; pieces of my hair that had fallen were brushed away by the oncoming night’s wind. Rhaenyra stepped forward, the large torch in hand. Slowly, she lowered it, the recovered remains (which were only scraps of clothes) of her son set ablaze. The fire engulfed and ate away at them ashes and smoke twirling up into the sky. Rhaenyra stepped away, a hand pressed to her stomach as though she were searching her empty womb for something, anything as little Joffrey settled into her side, hands wound into the long skirt of her dress.
We stepped forward.
I looked to my side where Rhaena stood, sniffling, her chin wobbled as she cried quietly. I looked at Baela who stood staring forward, her gaze fixed on Jace as he walked towards the pyre. Soundlessly, he tossed his brother’s cloak into the fire. Joffery ran up, his face pink with cold, a wooden horse carved of wood in his grasp and Jacaerys picked him up, the small child sat on his hip as he watched fire burn before he too tossed an offering into the fire – the flames quick to chew away at the little-wooden-brown horse. Jacaerys cradled him into his side. Rhaena rocked on her feet slightly and I placed my hand in the middle of her back. I could feel the shake of her breath and the rattle of her ribs as she tried to hold in her grief.
Finally, Rhaenyra came to stand in front, she shook as she smoothed the neatly folded clothes in her hands. She breathed in. She stared at the fire. Wordlessly, she tossed them in. She breathed out. She walked away, eyes now cold.
I blinked back tears as I looked around at the small gathering, looking for the man that sired me and yet he was missing. The man that wanted to avenge the one we now held a funeral for.
Synopsis: A scorned love, tarnished by blood and war. Will they remain or will they fall to their deaths, allowing the tear soaked arms of the past lovers hols them in a heart shattering embrace?
Overview: This series follows each episode of The House Of The Dragon. You can find it on both Wattled and ao3 if those are preferred reading websites.
Trope: Forbidden love
Chapter 1 - Fire and Blood | Completed | 22k
Y/n Targaryen first born daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Valerian. Read as she falls in love, but will she stay even as there's a dance of dragons in the sky?
☆ Epigraph ☆ George R.R Martin
'I have lived a thousand lives and I've loved a thousand loves. I've walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time because I read.'
Swear it
Fire and Funerals
Grieving Silence
Moments Like These
Court
Forever Yours
One Kneed Loyalty
Orange Embers
Sunset Blues
Chapter 2 - The Dancing Crowns | Ongoing | TBC
War. We share and shed blood, bodies fall from the sky and to the ground. Gods falling from grace and luxury to lay at rest with the rest of the world and still her heart beats, only, it's not really hers.
☆ Epigraph ☆ George R.R Martin
'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.'
Synopsis: A few months after the war between the rallied clans and the humans joined by the Mangkwan you and Neteyam finally have your moment steeped in love and laughter echoed by a cave that’s nestled in a corner away from the eyes and ears of the Sully family and the Metkayina. A simple girl from the Tlalim tribe and the prince of the Omaticaya clan.
A/n: In this Neteyam didn’t die as it takes place after Avatar: Fire and Ash. Tlalim tribe are the Wind Traders and the Txampaysye are the gill mantle which are the sea creatures used to help breathe under water. Part 2?
Laughter filled the night. Txampaysye lighting up the water below. The small cave off the side of the camp, a little secret from both of your fathers. A place that echoes laughter and whispered words swallowed by the soft lapping sea.
It had been months since the Mangkwan joined the sky people and war broke out. You had been a part of the Tlalim tribe – Wind Traders however you were on the ship that fell from the sky, pillaged and burned. You had run, your father pushing you away as you tried to lift the piece of your caravan that had fallen onto his leg.
“Go daughter, run!” he had shouted, you had sobbed, begged him to let you help, but he had just shoved his knife into your trembling hands and waved you away. Yet all you could do was watch as your father’s eyes once bright with life clouded over, your knuckles turning white as your hand clenchedthe handle a sob rattling your chest.
Then a hand touched your shoulder. Quickly, you spun around teeth bared and tail flicking behind you as you protected your father’s body. His knife still in hand you held it ready to attack, only, it wasn’t Mangkwan it was him. Neteyam Sully, eldest son of Toruk Makto. “Come on!” he shouted softly. “We have to go!” You glanced back at your father’s body then turned to the boy in front of you his hand outstretched and a grimace on his face as he stared at the dead body behind you.
It had been months since you had taken his hand at the wreckage and months since you had become friends. At first you wouldn’t even talk, you’d just nod with a distant look often pointed at the sky as you imagined the large ships you once lived in sailing above you. Then you fought beside the Sully family, the clans.
You remembered when Neteyam told his father what had happened, discussing in sky-people-language, Jake’s face full of irritation, not wanting to lug around the dead weight, but Neteyam had pleaded. You remembered Neytiri’s reluctant acceptation to a new stray, her face full of hesitation, eyesweary as she watched you eat, hungry and starved. The Metkayina clan cautious as though you posed more threat to them. But the Sully’s argued your case.
Now, you’re here, laughing with the same boy whose hand you’d taken all those months ago. Softly, you pushed his shoulder and looked down at your reflection in the water. It was less a cave and more of an ineffective shelter, the bottom a window into the abundance of sea life. The rock on the outside slighter dark from the sky people’s fire. “Wait so your dad said you’ve been spending too much time with me?” you laughed.
“Yep. And then Tuk said,” he groaned slightly and hid his face in his hands.
“What did Tuk say?” you asked dragging out the words, peering around at him and pulled his hands away from his face.
“She goes,” he paused huffing out a breath, “Neteyam has a crush on her.” The boy mocked before falling silent as you burst into a fit of giggles. Two months after the war, Neteyam had started courting you (in a sense) giving you gifts, helping you with tasks and recovery missions. “Don’t laugh, it was humiliating! My mum was all ‘Neteyam is this true?’ and I just -I just...froze?”
“You?... No!” you gasped before laughing again. “What did Jake say?” you asked laughter dying down some.
“He asked if we had ‘done it’,” Neteyam whispered and looked at you, but you just bit your lip, your chin wobbling slightly to keep from laughing.
“He’d asked if we had mated?” you asked trying to remain as serious as possible. Neteyam nodded the flopped onto his back and tucked his arms beneath his head.
“We haven’t even...” he trailed off and sat up. The atmosphere shifted silently in the shadows casted by the walls of the cave.
“Haven’t what?” you asked softly your face inching closer to his, but he turned and looked away. Gently, you took his chin in your hand and turned his head till he was staring you back into your eyes. Your eyes flickering down to his lips as he dragged his bottom lip in with his tongue and when it emerged it glistened quietly in the dull moonlight, your eyes flickered back up to his, his pupils bigger and tracing your face. “Haven’t what, ‘teyam?” you whispered, urging him to finish your sentence, your heart thrumming faintly against your ribcage. He moved closer. “Neteyam?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly to the right.
Your foot drifted in slow movements with current that fizzled out as it entered the cave and as the sea licked at your shin Neteyam caught your lips with his. You jumped slightly and he pulled back quickly, his skin darkening with embarrassment.
Then, you lurched forward, your lips crashing on too his, too fast, too hungry, but you were starved, you both were. Quietly, you sighed into the kiss and parted your lips a little, his tongue slipping in and your head lolled to the right to give him more control of the kiss.
Neteyam groaned quietly into your mouth, one of his hands grabbing your hip trying to pull you impossibly closer, the other on your cheek his thumb drifting over the skin lovingly. Little by little you fell back, the small layer of sand pillowing you and Neteyam nestled between your thighs, pressing your chests together. Leisurely, he pulled away, his thumb still skimming over your cheek as you smiled and leant into the touch pressing a kiss to his palm. His smile was wild as he sat back on his heels catching his breath.
Fingers trembling, you circled the scar on his chest – he doesn’t talk about it, but Kiri had told you one night when you’d gone past the reef. She said he’s been shot by a soldier turned Na’vi, said Neteyam had almost died, that Jake resents Lo’ak a little for it. You know that Neteyam carries the weight that comes with the scar as though the bullet is still lodged in there. His smile grew shy as he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, squeezing his eyes shut.
“So,” you started and he opened his eyes letting go of your hand, playing with a stray piece of your hair that’s still damp with salt water. “Do you have a crush on me?” You asked giggling and tilted your head with a beaming smile as you sat up, resting on your hand behind you. He laughed rolling his eyes, tugging playfully on the hair he was playing with before tucking it behind your ear.
“No seriously! I’d like to know, so? Does the eldest son of the great Toruk Makto have a crush on silly little me, Y/n, daughter of a humble Wind Trader and Na’vi from the Tlalim tribe? If so it’s an honour,” you laughed, pressing a hand to your chest with a mocking gasp.
“Shut up,” he whined and pressed his lips to your again, halting your laughter in one fell swoop.
Warnings: mentions of character death, grief, teen pregnancy
Synopsis: After not receiving child support for three months, you begin to grow worried. Billy may have been an arsehole and though you two had long fell out of love, you knew he still loved his son. So, with a two year old on your hip and a rusty rental car you made your way to Hawkins only to be greeted by the cold hands of grief.
Or
Y/n is faced with life altering news and has to face it straight on.
A/n: Dad Billy!! Memento Mortuorum means: 'remember the dead people', serves as a call to honour those who have died. This has been swimming around in my head for a long time as I've started re watching Stranger Things. I've also been thinking about writing a Steve Harrington piece, so let me know if you'd like to see that. There may possibly be inconsistencies with the timeline so please let me know if there is any.
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Despite the lack of sun sweat trickled down your back as you huffed through your parted lips. James sat in the back, the car seat jostling slightly with the rickety old car as you drove along the forest edged road – he softly cooed at one of his toys and you smiled at him through the rear view. His hair was all you, but everything else about him, well that, that was all the infamous Billy Hargrove. Hawkins was a long way from California, but you were worried now, admittedly. At first you had been agitated, the last envelope with a small letter for your son and some cash came early this year, it had taken forever to arrive, but you had thought nothing of it till...
California had been quiet that day, a normal Monday morning, you had fed James, washed up, reminded your mum that she was going to look after your little boy while you were at work, but then... Then the news was quick to break any normalcy, ‘Fire at Hawkin’s Mall – StarCourt, Will there be any normal days for this small town in Indiana, but more on that later...” it was background noise, nothing to worry about initially and you were already running close to being late for the small part-time job you worked at the VHS store, so you had turned off the TV kissed James goodbye and left. Yet for weeks no word, no nothing. No letters, no money, no phone call. Just, nothing. It’s been three months now and the years stretching onto its last legs. It grew colder as the months grew quieter, it was especially odd when he hadn’t sent a birthday card for James and now you were worried.
So naturally, you packed your bags, booked a flight to Indiana, and here you were driving through Hawkins with only a shitty handwritten address on a crumpled envelop - ‘4819 Cherry Lane’. God, you hoped it was Billy who opened the door and not his shit stain of a father, you thought mindlessly as you chewed on your bottom lip while the rusty bucket called a car veered left into the turning,, the forest melting into lines of stores and old houses. They slowly grew smaller; you eyed the houses and felt the pang of jealousy as it veered its ugly head, “lucky bastards,” you sneered as you carried on down the. roads - your body aching at the seemingly never-ending roads. Children laughed and smiled as their parents pushed them on swing sets and chased them around the bright green yards.
Eventually, the road sign you’d been scouring for popped into view and you turned down the road careful not to hit anything. “4810...4812...4816,” you mouthed quietly to yourself and brushed the hair from your eyes as the gust of wind pouring from the window swiped across with its cold fingers. “4819,” you sighed in relief and softly pulled into the driveway, the old rental rocking to a rickety stop. Your wrist popped as you twisted the key and removed it from the ignition, quickly you stepped out of the car stretching. You slammed the door shut and began to get James out of the car, fast as to not let him kick up the usual fuss. His big eyes stared up at you, runny nose from the cold dusted with freckles. Quickly, you unclipped the car seat buckle from around him and picked him up by the arm pits, placing him on your hip, grabbing the bear that’d fallen to the floor from the movement and kicked the door shut.
Gently, you placed him on the tire-marked-grass, kneeling to reach his height. “Okay, baby?” you asked and zipped his little blue jacket up to his chin, he nodded and took the stuffed bear from your hand hugging it to his chest. You stood and grabbed his hand in yours leading him to the door.
The paint was chipped and one of the numbers were hanging on for dear life, you were scared to knock in case it would fall off. You rapped your knuckles on the door once, twice, hand raised ready to knock again, but it swung open. Framed by the doorway stood the small ginger girl you had only really spoken to a handful of times and only in passing, “Max?” you asked. Her mouth was open and eyes wide as she stared up at you. For a moment neither of you moved, practically daring the other to break eye contact. Then, she did, her eyes flicked down to look at the little boy stood by your side, hand still clasped in yours, though now he hid behind your legs.
“I- Y/n, I,” she started.
“Look I’m here for Billy. I haven’t heard from him for a while, longer than usual and well,” you paused and picked the small boy up letting him rest his on your shoulder, “I was getting worried,” you said, chewing anxiously on the inside of your cheek. Max still stood in the way of your eye line to see into the room despite your attempts to peek behind him. “So? Where is he?”
“Y/n... I. We need to talk come in,” she said. She sounded breathless, scared. Her eyebrows were scrunched and nose crinkled as she pulled the door open and let you in.
You sat on the sofa, the clock ticking in the background making your nerves spike to another level as your leg bounced and you watched as James sat cooing at his bear on the floor in front of you. Max still wasn’t talking, every time it seemed as though she’d start no words would come out. Her leg bounced in time with yours as she played with her fingers in her lap. Moving boxes were scattered around some full, some empty, some with lids on them, some taped shut. “Are you moving?” you asked, quiet.
“What?” the red headed girl jumped, “Yea, I mean yes, yes, we are, my mum and I,” she muttered, eyes never really meeting yours.
“Where’s Neil?”
“He left.” You nodded slowly at her answer.
“Right,” you drawled, “so where’s Billy?”
“That’s the thing Y/n,” she stuttered and swallowed so loud you could hear it, “he’s...gone.”
You almost laughed, “Gone. Gone where? This isn’t some silly game Max.”
“No. He’s gone. He’s gone Y/n,” she paused, taking a shaky breath, “he...he uh. He died.”
“What,” a laugh punched out of you. Short. Quick. Disbelieving.
“He died in the mall fire three months ago,” she said, voice breaking.
Your mouth opened then closed. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Then you laughed. It burned your throat and made yourself jump. Tears burning your eyes. You rose to your feet and spun around, finger pointed at the sallow looking girl. “This. This is all some sort of sick joke,” you paused, your hands tangling in your hair, “isn’t it. Isn’t it!” Max wept quietly on the old sofa head in hands. She shook her head.
The air left your lungs.
“I-” you started, but the lump in your throat grew too firm for words to pass through. Your lip trembled to keep the tears from spilling over. “He- he’s here. He’s here. I -. I know he is,” you bolted down the short hall pushing the doors open, some small part of your hoping, wishing he was there, hiding, playing some stupid, idiotic prank. I mean he never wanted a kid in the first place, said his genes were bad – cursed – something wicked. Yet there he was only sixteen cradling a swaddled newborn baby boy in a sterile hospital room while you lie there on the bed in an itchy hospital gown watching him. Your heart had melted then, but now, now it was trying to claw itself from your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed the final door open.
Dust swirled in the air. The room was practically untouched. Your body froze. Swallowing, you stepped into the too quiet room. You spun around the room taking it all in. The ashtray on the chest of draws, the stupid poster of a girl in a bikini, the red sheet covering the window, the broken shelves. Defeated, you sat on the spring mattress. You didn’t move, not when you could hear the rushing footsteps. Or the tear-stained-cheeked girl emerged into the room. “He’s gone?” you asked, voice crackling. Max just nodded, shoulders slumped, head down as she toed at the carpet. “He’s gone,” you whispered to yourself. The young girl came to sit next to you, the bed dipping slightly at the added weight. Breathing deeply through your nose for a minute you rubbed at your forehead with shaky fingers.
Knees wobbly and body trembling you stood. You ran your fingertips over the wooden top of the drawers. “We haven’t gone through it yet. Me and my mum I mean. Neil all but ransacked it. I think the drawers still have stuff in it though, you can take some stuff with you back to California, if, I mean if you’d like,” Max remarked feebly. You didn’t say anything, just tugged the first draw open, it was old and stiff and full of porno magazines. You rolled your eyes and dug through them before moving on to the next – that one was half empty only lighters and flakes of tobacco remained. You pulled open the last one, the wood squeaking as they rubbed against one another. Some papers (passport, ID etc) you flipped through them all, heart sinking until... Your fingers gingerly picked up the paper clipped pictures that was sat at the very bottom, buried, hidden, secret.
The photographs were small, rectangular, the corners worn and tattered, you pulled it from the paperclip. You stared at it – tears finally falling. There, Billy stood a bundle of blankets held carefully in his arms his face unsmiling, same as yours as you stood next to him, your eyes tired and body slumped into his slightly, but he was looking at you. Softly you flipped it around, the blue pen smudged, but the shabby cursive still legible, ‘Me, Y/n and baby James – Sep ‘83’. You pressed the picture to your chest and sighed shakily. You took the next one between your fingers, it was of Neil holding James. God, he had been furious, Billy had a black eye for weeks, you remember when you had knocked on Billy’s door tears in your eyes with a test weighing heavy in your pocket, he’d begged you to let him keep it a secret, but you’d said, “a baby isn’t something you can hide Billy, not for long anyways, especially if you want to be in its life,” so the next week Billy had told his dad, but it hadn’t gone so well. “You’ll be a dead beat,” he’d said, “do you want me to congratulate you for knocking up one of your slut whores,” he’s spat and later that night you’d cleaned Billy’s busted lip. You tossed the picture aside.
The next one was one you had taken. Billy was stood on the beach holding James as they both looked out at the sea, the sun’s glare haloing them as seagulls blurred in the background, you flipped it around, ‘Beach Day, March ‘84 - Billy + James’. You sobbed. The world stilled as you stared at the picture, at the rare genuine smile on Billy’s face. You’d broken up a month later and then they moved two months later. He’d turned up on your doorstep said goodbye to James and you had never seen him again. You will never see him again.
The small pitter-patter of familiar little steps rang out, but you couldn’t move. You just stayed staring at the picture. “Dada,” James’s voice made you sob more. For months he’d been asking for Billy. All month. Last August Billy had shown up, taken his son out for a day and spent the week, said he wanted to be more present said he missed his son, said he missed you. “Mmmama, dada.” James sounded so happy, so proud as though he’d found his father. You turned your head to see what James was looking at. Your heart broke. James’ arms stretched above him as he knelt, hands reaching out for the picture stuck on Billy’s mirror. He was clad in a basketball uniform. You could see his lips wobble as he couldn’t reach the picture he wanted so badly. “Daddy!” he wailed.
You tucked the two pictures into your pocket and stood to pick up your baby, plucking the picture from the mirror letting James hold it. “You weren’t invited to the funeral?” Max said. You turned quickly in surprise, honestly you had forgotten she was there. You shook your head. “I knew we shouldn’t have let that bastard handle the invites,” she sniffled softly.
“Welp. That’s Neil for ya. Grade A asshole,” you laughed sarcastically and harshly wiped at your eyes. “He did always hate me,” you looked down at James and kissed his hair squeezing your eyes shut, “always hated him,” you whispered watching as James continued to stare at his father’s face. “Look, we’re- we’re just going to go. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” you said red rimmed eyes staring at the similar ones. You swayed side to side.
“I’ll call you,” Max rushed. “I mean I’ll call you soon, maybe we can meet up, and we can go visit him- his grave, Billy’s grave I mean,” she stumbled. You smiled small and shallow. All of a sudden you felt tired as though everything has been sucked out of you.
“Yea, okay,” you muttered and left the room, looking over your shoulder one more time. “Say bye to auntie Max.”
“Bye bye ‘acks,” James cheered after you. It hurt. It hurt that he didn’t know what was happening. That he didn’t know Billy wasn’t going to come visit him anymore. That he no longer had a father. It made you sick.
May ‘86
“I brought you some flowers,” you sniffled, “they’re your mum’s favourites, don’t worry, they’re not fake I remember you telling me she hated fake flowers,” you chuckled wetly. “I’m sorry we missed your birthday, Max called and told me not to come down in March I don’t know why, but well...” you trailed off. You looked over your shoulder to check on James as he chased after a butterfly. “Our baby has grown so much you should see him. He does nothing slowly, just like you. He’s so much like you...James misses you, a lot. I know he still doesn’t really understand, but I think he knows deep down.” You stopped that lump in your throat that has become all too familiar lodged itself back into place.
You leant forward ignoring the looming future of having to scrub the grass stains from your jeans and pressed your forehead to the smooth top of the headstone, “I miss you.” You quietly sobbed as you softly kissed the freezing stone. “Goodbye Billy,” you whispered then leant back wiping at your tears, your fingertips brushing against the engraved name.
You stood to your feet and called out to the little boy, “James! Come say bye to daddy.” The toddler ran up to you, streaks of green covering his knees from where he’d tripped over his own feet. You pressed your fingers to your mouth as James whispered his goodbye to his dad, hugging the cold, solid, stone. He let go and looked up at you with a smile, “Come on,” you said softly reaching out your hand from him to take, his fingers wrapping two of yours, “let’s go see auntie Max, you can show her how good your counting is I’m sure by the time she’s better you’ll be able to count all the stars in the sky.”
“Lucash?!” James asked excitedly. You truthfully didn’t know where the lisp had come from, but the doctors said it was normal when their teeth are coming in.
“Yes, I’m sure Lucas will be there too,” you giggled amused at his excitement at seeing Lucas. “Come on then. I’ll get you something from the vending machine anything you want.” James cooed in excitement and let go of your hand to run up to your car. You had just moved to Hawkins to stay close to Max...and Billy with the upcoming lockdown and all. Your mum had protested at first, but she gave in when she saw the picture of Billy and James sat in frame on your bed, she didn’t think you’d noticed. But you had.
So now you were a citizen of Hawkins though you’re sure others would tell you, you were crazy, naive. But it’s those same people who said you and Billy were crazy, naive, stupid for having a baby at sixteen, but look how well that’s going – James let go of your hand and ran up to the car in a fit of giggles – after all it’s better to stay close to friends and family. You had plenty here.
Any:
LIKES|COMMENTS|REPOSTS ARE APPRECIATED THANK YOU SO MUCH.
Synopsis: JJK Men's reactions to you asking if you can go on top in scenarios
A/n: let me know if you guys would like to see anymore characters or any other blurbs
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Gojo
You were both casually lying on the plush bed he'd spent too much money on. The sound of a show you didn't know played softly in the background as you both scrolled on your phones. There was an all too familiar itch under your skin that needed to be scratched, only worsening as you looked over to your boyfriend; his top was pulled up as he scratched at his stomach, the pale perfect skin and the dusting of white hair trailing up to his navel had your body aching.
You locked your phone the click getting his attention as he turned to look at you through the black-lensed glasses. Lips pouted in thought as you stared back before you casually dropped, "so, can I ride it?" You could see the way he blinked under his glasses at your request, his body still and lips slightly apart slowly growing into a smirk.
"Like right now?" he asked leaning a little towards you. Licking at your lips you nodded and let your eyes drag across his body. He laughed and tossed his phone across the bed. "Come here then," he said, voice dropping ever so slightly, his hand patting his thigh. Eagerly, you climbed on top of him, thighs either side of his. Gojo pushed himself up against the headboard and once situated he weaved his fingers into your hair and kissed you, hungry, greedy like a man starved for weeks. It was sloppy, but it left your stomach filled with butterflies as you rolled your body into his and sighed through the kiss.
Your breath grew ragged as he pulled away, saliva smeared across his lips. He smiled, white teeth on show. Agonizingly slow he dipped his hand bellow your waistband and rubbed you through your underwear. He chuckled at the quiet gasps you let out. "Show me what you've got."
Nanami
Kent typed on his laptop, finishing whatever report he didn't finish at work earlier that day. He stretched his neck, head tilting, muscle pulling taught and a sighed groan slipping past his lips. You looked up at him from your phone that softly illuminated the room around you, the day long turned dark. The clicking of the keyboard grating on your nerves - he'd been at it for over two hours. The boredom in you growing restless by the second, your fingers twitching every minute or so, sick of scrolling and texting your friends back.
You kicked the sheets off and slid off the bed, walking towards the man sat in the desk chair. He didn't even turn around to see what you were doing. Peering at the screen in front of you as you stood behind your husband, watching as sentences were typed, deleted and re typed. You lent down, hands braced on his stiff shoulders, lips next to his ear, "Don't you think you deserve a break?" you whispered. He didn't flinch at your voice.
"I'll come to bed in a minute, I'm just finishing up this last report and I-"
"I'll go on top tonight, if you want of course," you whispered and pressed a gentle kiss behind his ear. Kento didn't move, fingers hovering over the keys. You straightened your back and started walking back to the bed, then, his hand grabbed your wrist. You turned to look at him with a smug smile. He rose to his feet and walked towards you, slow, deliberate, hand still wrapped around your wrist. Gently he tugged you into him, now chest to chest.
His head dipped down, stopping just before your lips could meet. "So impatient," he said his breath brushing against your lips. His large hand reached up to cradle your jaw, thumb swiping across your cheekbone and finally he kissed you, rough, deep, walking backwards till your legs hit the bed and you fell back, him climbing on top of you. Pulling away, he tugged at the tie around his neck that he'd forgotten to take off after work.
Geto
You checked the last name off of the clipboard as the two men pulled the heavy doors shut with a slam that reverberated around the large room. "Was that the last one?" Geto asked from his seat in the centre of the stage robes billowed around him.
"Yes, she was the last for the day," you replied and placed the clipboard on the floor beside your foot.
His sigh was heavy as he massaged his forehead to be free of the stress from talking to 'monkeys' all day. Even through the robes you could see his tense shoulders, bunched muscle, tight and needing release. You walked down the steps to stand in front of him. Softly, you smiled at him.
He'd hired you to be assistant a while ago, but it was a bit more than that now - one drunken night filled with sloppy kisses and rushed sex.
You watched him for a moment. You watched the way he stretched out his fingers and the way his long hair fell over his shoulder as he tilted his head back, the way his Addams apple bobbed in his throat and the visible clench of his jaw.
He was beautiful.
Unceremoniously, you kicked off your shoes. The difference in temperature as your socked feet hit the wooden floor sent a slight chill up your spine. He stared at you. Eyes directly boring into your own. "What are you doing?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Assistant duties. I'm here to help you remember," you said, your voice smooth.
He hummed and rubbed at his chin letting his eyes wander across your body, undressing you. "How do you intend to do that exactly, hmm?" You watched as his tongue pulled in his bottom lip. You watched how it glistened with saliva in the soft daylight. You watched with deepening need.
"However, you want me to. On my hands and knees. Face down. Bent over. Whatever you want," you paused and sucked in a breath, "on top, your hands all over me." You swallowed thickly, eyes tracking every movement, every muscle. Geto stood up and jumped down from the stage, his steps were fast and a wicked smirk on his lips. He smiled down at you, barely any room left between your bodies.
He pressed his hand over your mouth, his hold tight, firm...dominating. "Yea?" he said mockingly and tilted his head to the side. He lent in close, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, "and if I take you, right here, right now. In this very room, on the floor?" he paused and you closed your eyes, "you'll be quiet?" you nodded hastily and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. He pulled away, eyes locking onto yours, hand still clamped over your mouth."Good."
Toji
It was a typical night. Toji had called you, told you to come over or he'd find someone else. You knew he didn't mean it, but he must've been in a pretty sit mood and it only became clearer as he pushed you onto the bed. You pushed yourself up on your hands and watched as he tugged his shirt over his head leaving his hair slightly disheveled - your top long forgotten on the floor.
He climbed onto the bed and sat on his knees, drinking you in for a minute, flushed and bare chested. He lent down and pressed a kiss just above your waistband and you lifted your hips to help him pull the restricting bottoms off. Slowly, he dragged his tongue up to your navel, pressing a kiss just below up before continuing the trail of wet kisses up to your collarbone. He sucked at the skin till satisfied at the mark and moved to the next one littering you with red marks and shallow bites.
You carded your fingers through his hair scratching at his scalp before tugging his head back fiercely, he hissed through clenched teeth. "Why are you in such a mood? What happened?" you asked as he pulled your hand from his hair.
"Nothin'" he mumbled, the scar pulling as he frowned slightly. His large hands grabbed at the back of your knees and pulled your groin into his, his muscles flexing. The hardness pressing against you made you quietly exhale through your parted lips, your mouth suddenly dry. Toji carried on the shower of sloppy kisses along your neck.
"Toji," you said voice nearly above a whisper. "Toji!" you said loud, sitting up. The man in question lent back with a glare and snarl on his lips. "Just," you caught your breath, "just wait a second. I know somethin's wrong, but clearly you don't want to tell me so..." you trailed off.
Toji raised an eyebrow, "Soo? So, what? Are we fucking or not?" he grunted out. You pressed your hand to his shoulder and pushed him, twisting his body so he was now lying on his back. "What are you doing?"
"Just let me take care of you," you mumbled against his skin as you lightly peppered kisses on his abdomen. "Let, me take care of you," you proceeded up his body, hand planted firmly on his chest to keep him planted. You knew he could easily over power you, easily flip the script, have you flat on your front and savagely fuck you from behind. But he wasn't. He didn't move.
He didn't do anything. He just stayed there, staring at you, watching your every move closely, every lick, every kiss, every bite. All he said was, "and what are you going to do sweetheart, you can't even kiss me without shaking," he laughed. It was loud and mocking. It only spurred you on more.
You pulled off the rest of his clothes, fully exposed to your hungry eyes and you licked your lips. You lent forward, back arched somewhat, you kissed him, deep, slow till your mouth hurt and you had to pull away for air. Rocking back until his length was rubbing against your thinly clothed bottom half. "I'm goin' to ride you until you forget what was bothering you . Until all you remember is this moment, until all you can think about is me and your name on my lips," you murmured.
"You're a dirty little thing aren't you princess," he swallowed. with a smirk and grab your hips so you're fully pressed together, "show me what a slut you really are."
Sukuna
You sat naked on the bed watching as Sukuna shrugged off his robe eyes dropping as it fell to the floor. He rolled his shoulders, the muscle in his arms flexing and coiling. You weren't excited. Don't get me wrong you loved the sex, it was good sex, but it got boring - the same position every night. You were to give him an heir. A child born from your womb to carry on his lineage, but you didn't see why you couldn't have fun with it.
Before you Sukuna hardly knew anything about sex just the ins and outs (no pun intended), just the basics. But he was big, all of him was big. Rolling muscle and appendages. He could make you cum from just his fingers, but you wanted more. You wanted more of him. You wanted to feel more of him. So you had a plan that you'd concocted during dinner earlier that evening.
He stalked towards you, slowly stroking himself, face unmoving and heavy eyes. Usually you would just lie back on the bed and let him fuck you open with his fingers till he was satisfied you were ready before pushing himself in, but not tonight. Instead you stood up from your previously position perched on the edge of the abnormally large bed.
Skunk's hand dropped as he looked at you with a look that could kill, mouth open ready to retort . Before he could even make a disapproving sound you said, "I want to try something different, something fun."
"Something fun? Why do we need to do something fun to achieve the conception of my heir?" he asked incredulously his lip curling is displeasure.
"It'll be good. It'll feel good." You played with your fingers as you stared up into his red burning eyes. "Please Sukuna at least grant me this one thing?" you said quiet and soft, trying to intrigue him, make proposition as inviting as possible.
"And what would that be," he sassed rolling his eyes.
"Let me be on top. You can still have control in that position. But it'll feel good for you, feel good for me and you can still get me pregnant."
"I know that, woman," he retorted, "what makes you think you can take me, all of me in that way. You can barely handle my fingers." You walked towards him and placed your hands to his arms, leisurely running your hand up and down, your lip between your teeth as you stared up at him.
"Come on Sukuna. I'll be good. I'll be real good, promise," you whispered and pressed a kiss on his bicep. The King of Curses sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes before pinching at the bridge of his nose. You knew you'd got him from the way he looked at you, the way he licked at his lips.
"Fine," he grumbled and lied back on the bed, tucking his arms under his head, his legs slightly spread and an evil smirk on his lips - sure you'd fail. Quickly, you clambered on top of him not wanting to waste your chance. "Make sure you put on a show. If it's good. If you're good we'll see what else we could do," he said reaching up to grope at you, smacking your ass loud and hard sure to leave a hand print. You nodded with a smile.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Warnings: mentioned war, grief, mentioned death, major character death, digging nails into palm, mentions of scars, mentions of wounds, mourning, mentioned conflict, conflict
Synopsis: Corlys finally arrives at Dragonstone. Plots, healing and chaos ensues. (Please read A/n at the bottom)
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It was early when I was awoken. A flurry of maids rushed through, I could hear hot water thump against the bottom of the brass tub, the smell of sweet soaps of perfumes permeated the humid air. "Good morning," they all stopped and dipped their heads at the sight head that peaked from beneath the covers. Hair no doubt wild. "Your presence is required in the war room."
I groaned and fell back onto my pillows.
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The room was loud as I walked in, guards and council members who walked past bowed their heads. I looked around the room noticing Jace and Luke stood at the head of the table where my father usually was. Rhaenyra sat off to the side watching all the men chatter with war plans and what nots.
I took quick steps to stand beside Jace, who smiled at me graciously before his eyes moved once again to look at the table then to his mother. It was crowded. Suffocating. The fire was hot in my throat and sweat prickled on my skin, my dress sat tight, my hair dropped down my back as it tickled softly.
"The Lord of The Tides," everyone stopped simultaneously turning to look at the entrance way, "Lord Corlys Velaryon..." I jumped as his cane hit the floor with emphasis. I looked at him and Rhaenys, both wore grim expressions. "...and his wife the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." Baela and Rhaena followed behind. I nodded to Baela who nodded back, shortly and stiff.
No one spoke, just like yesterday an unsettling silence reared its head. Not even breath was heard. Corlys and Rhaenys stopped infant of Rhaenyra as my sisters walked towards us. I moved aside to let Baela stand next to her betrothed to which she smiled happily. Rhaena stopped to squeeze my hand as she stood next to Luke. A small buzz of excitement washed over me at the sight of my grand-sire, but it stung seeing him injured as such.
"My Lords."
"Lord Corlys," Rhaenyrs called out to him. "It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again."
"I'm very sorry about your father, Princess," no one dared to correct him, "He was a good man." Corlys turned and surveyed the room careful not to keep his eyes on one person for too long. I dipped my head slightly when his eyes shifted to me. "Where is Daemon?'
"There were other concerns which demanded the prince's attention. Rhaenyra stared forward as Corlys 'hummed' in a disapproving manner before he began to shuffle forward, cane slamming on the ground, echoing in the too full room.
"Your declared allies?" He stared at the war table before him. His brow was creased at the lack of houses. His fingers brush gently across his chin as he thought.
"Yes." Rhaenyra's words were sharp as she moved to stand next to him. Only to fall short as he turned to stare at her.
'Too few to win a war for the throne."
"Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon and Stark," she looked around the room before turning back to the injured man.
"Hope...is the fool's ally."
Rhaenyra looked taken aback. She blinked one too few shifting her weight, "Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my House. But all of them swore oaths to me."
"As did House Hightower...if I remember.'" He was pushing for something. Perhaps testing weaknesses. He's waiting for her to crack.
"As did you, Lord Corlys." He was quiet. Everything was quiet as Corlys once again looked around the room. I could hear the soft unnerved movement of Luke and the crackle of fire behind us.
My ears rang. I wasn’t used to the silence of the War room more or less. Not like this
Voices.
Voice after voice after voice. They all spoke and crashed over one another. Bustling and moving around the room as if it was small, mice cramped together in a small hole hiding away from the rat-catchers. Huddles and hordes of Lords lurked around every corner you moved.
That is what I was used to.
“Your father’s reign was one of justice and honour,” My grandsire’s voice cut through the rest, “Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. The Hightower’s treason cannot stand.”
I looked to Baela, anyone this up close could see the nervous hitch she gave as Corlys shifted his body weight, cane moving with him, slamming down of the floor. Echoing dramatically.
“You have the full support of our fleet and House. Your Grace.” Corlys bowed his head. My eyes caught Rhaenys’ as she lifted her head in approval and pride. Both her and Corlys dripped in power of tidal waved fire and still war lapped at their heels ready to consume whole-y. My eyes quickly moved back to gaze of Rhaenyra, softly checking for a reaction – her mouth only slightly ajar as she thought of what to say. Words conjured up with fast blinks of what only one could assume was surprise.
“You honour me, Lord Corlys.” She turned to look at Rhaenys who wore a gentle smile, warmth radiating from her skin. “Princess Rhaenys,” she turned back, “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be done by my hand.”
I straightened my back in mild surprise. I would have hit first, quietly somewhere that you’d know would shock and cut them deep. I would want the advantage, to have all of the power my side leaving them with scraps to lift them back up. Nothing can take someone longer to heal like grief. You never truly do.
“You do not mean to act?” Corlys questioned.
The room was still dead silent. Even the crackling flames seemed to be holding their breath.
“Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are...before I send them to war.” Rhaenyra’s eyes floated across the room as she swayed gently on her feet.
Corlys walked towards her, “The consequence of my...near-demise in the Stepstones ...is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours.”
Rhaenyra startled as everyone began to look around the room before fixing their eyes back onto her. Corlys turned his attention the table. His hand hovered over where Driftmark was labelled. “If we...can further seal off the Gullet we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.” His hand moved to hover over the mass.
“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Rhaenys joined Rhaenyra’s side, facing the table, eyes heavy on where her Lord husband’s hand hovers.
“When we drain the Narrow Sea,” Lord Bartimos began, “we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens’ surrender.”
Rhaenyra placed her hands on the table, leaning forward as she stared at the map infront of her before looking up, “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie and Storm’s End.’
“I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”
“We should bear those messages,” Jacaerys spoke from where he stood, tall and proud. I felt the thrum in my veins and subtle throb in my head. Everyone was staring at Jace and yet, his voice did not waver. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens...and they’re more convincing. Send us.”
“The prince is right, Your Grace.” Corlys nodded softly to Rhaenyra.
“Very well.” Luke looked down at his mother’s words. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And... the cost of breaking them.”
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I stood on the peak, where I was stood not long ago. Clouds were overhead in the distance ready to crown Dragonstone. For now, the sky before me is clear grey-shaded-blues with orange overlapping at the bottom. I tossed pebbles from the edge too far to see the drop and still I could feel it sink. Something is wrong. It haunts the horizon and sinks into my bones. A chill down the spine or a cold hand on a warm shoulder.
I jumped my fingertips brushing against the handle of my dagger, the crunch of rock under shoes topped just beside me. The red of Baela’s dress polished the rock as the wind blew. Rhaena stood beside me. Neither one of them turned to look at me or each other. We all just stood, staring ahead.
“They left hours ago sister, why are you still out here?” Baela questioned.
“The wind calms me, something is wrong.” My own voice sounds far away, lost.
“Something is wrong?” Rhaena repeated. I chewed the inside of my cheek. It was strange, I feel like I’ve only just really met my sisters. We were close in our childhood, mere children running around and still we weren’t terribly close then. Bore from the same womb and yet, here we are stood next to each other miles apart.
I remember when Rhaena broke a vase chasing Baela and I cleaned it before father found it – although he probably wouldn't have cared. I remember how there were splinters of glass in my hand that Rhaena had sobbed about as she took my hand in hers and how Baela had to then tell mother what had happened so she could have the splinters removed. I had laughed and comforted them. They had later fallen asleep in my bed that night curled up either side of me.
That night I had vowed to always take care of my sisters.
“You’re going to be in black and red soon,” I spoke quietly.
“What?” Rhaena asked finally turning to look at me.
“You’re going to have to wear red and black. We’re apart of House Targaryen, we serve our Queen Rhaenyra. You’re going to wear red to represent the House whether you like it or not,” I spoke carefully as I watched her pick at the sleeves of her blue dress.
“I wanted to represent her and her House one last time. I want her and everyone else to know I, we had not forgotten her.”
I nodded looking down feeling the dryness of my throat and burn in my eyes and still there are no more tears I can cry. I licked my lips and swallowed thickly before looking back towards the sea. “I’m happy you’re not in green for what it’s worth.” Baela spoke her eyes meeting mine as I turned my head.
I gaped slightly before smiling. She smiled softly grabbing my hand, Rhaena grabbed my other. And we stood there watching the sun set, one last time bathed in blue.
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Heavy footsteps began to crunch as they walked fast, toward us. A haste that tells me something has happened. Something has gone wrong. We let go of each other’s hands turning to look at the intruder. My father stood, chest heaving ever so slightly as he stared at us his children. His eyes were soft as he looked at us, like how he used to looked at us when we were children, racing around halls and eating and just simply living.
“Girls,” he started, I could see the hesitation and crease in his brow as his eyes looked to the floor and then back to us, “there has been news.” I held my breath. “Prince Lucerys has been killed along with Arrax on his way back to Dragonstone.”
I felt sick. I couldn't even begin to believe it. I could see the anger on my father’s face as he struggled to spit out the words. And still my heart hammered and lungs fluttered in disbelief. I continued to stare at my father, nails pressing into my palms and knuckles white. I refuse to believe.
Until.
A sob, shaky and pained rattled beside me. Rhaena stood, hunched slightly. Her hand was over her mouth and her white-silvery hair covered her face as she looked to the floor. I rubbed my hand on her back as Baela moved around us to her right. My eyes met Baela’s over Rhaena’s still hunched over form, her eyes were glossy with tearful woe. I tongued at my cheek. My stomach sinking further and further and further.
“Who did it?” I whispered.
“What?” My father’s harsh voice rang in my head.
“Who did it? Who killed Lucerys!” My words were rushed and loud. I felt Rhaena’s body jolt beneath my hand as it fell from her back. I took a step toward my father who watched my every move, every breath I took. Every single shaky one.
“Aemond. He was there with Vhagar treating with Lord Baratheon.” I nodded as I looked up. The moon peering down at us from where it has nestled in the sky. I squeezed my eyes shut praying for relief, for all of this to be over and to be some bad dream. But still, here I am, stood next to my grieving sisters, one who’s lost her betrothed and another a friend.
My heart squeezed, finally stopping its incessant beating, ceasing its desire to once again mellow to beat with his. My skin finally giving up the burn beneath it, cooling, no longer itching to feel his skin on mine.
I hate him and it hurts to know how much I love loved him.
I hated him.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
Still the necklace remains sunken, welded into my skin. A golden sun embedded into my skin. A scar that will truly never fade.
A/n -
Hello everyone!! That concludes Season 1 of HOTD, Love Is A War - Fire and Blood. I know there's been lack of consistently in my writing let alone updates, but I'm trying to catch up as of right now so expect a new one to be posted soon, Love Is A War - The Dancing Crowns, which will of course be the long awaited season 2. Links to the next set of works can be found by using the HOTD-MASTER-LIST at the top or just wait to be notified when I post it. Also let me know if you'd like me to do a short piece of where Y/n goes and confronts Aemond about killing Luke or not. All comments, re-bloggs and notes are greatly appreciated and if you'd like to be tagged in the next one just leave a comment under mine. Lots of love D.R.B
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Warnings: nail biting, mentioned war, conflict, hinted abuse, mentioned grief/just grief, mentioning of funerals
Synopsis: After bending the knee, Rhaenyra is now your Queen. You have made your bed, but the question still lies whether you will lie in it or just ruffle the sheets. All the while your father - Daemon - is quick to jump into war.
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It was beautiful. You had to admit. The way the orange illuminated under the table. The way the cold room warmed from the fire after the biting cold of outside which the stone never truly kept out.
I stood beside Baela awaiting Rhaenyra, my heart thumped with every impending echoey footstep that haunted the halls. I was not afraid. No. More in awe, in a sense, to see a woman sit the throne or will sit the throne. It was breathtaking. That was the true beauty.
The orange glow was hers. Her castle. Her council. Her crown. Her throne. Her war table.
But our war.
I bowed my head as my father's voice rang through as he listed Rhaenyra's titles. They swam in my head - so surreal. Rhaenyra stepped forward, honking metal following until she fell short, the men only one toe behind. None of them blinked. A warning. The unsettling feeling of unbatting-eyed clunking metal men behind you, are all too familiar. But they listened to her. Their Queen.
They stepped back some and remained in place.
I watched as Rhaena moved forward cup in hand, "Wine my Queen." Rhaenyra seemed unsettled, hesitating to take the cup, but still my mother's smile lay perfect on my little sister's face.
"Thank you, Rhaena." Her voice was still soft. Mothering. "Come."
Rhaenyra continued her path forward with Rhaena a step behind her before she turned to Baela nodding for her to follow with a small gentle smile as her eyes met mine. Baela looked at our grandsire for permission before moving in step just a short pace behind. They all gathered around the table.
I moved closer to Rhaenys.
It was silent. For a minute. Nothing, but crashing waves and flittering ocean breeze. All eyes remained on the Queen. Awaiting judgement. Awaiting anything at all.
"What is our standing?" The only place she seemed to be able to look was at my father.
"We have thirty knights, one hundred and three hundred men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired..." my father's voice seemed to drone on, but all I could hear still were his silent cries on the beach. Mournful cries. So similar. Like those I cried at my mother's funeral.
Strange how age doesn't influence grief. Just the person who was lost.
I watched as Jace placed pieces onto the board. Each house which has (so far) rallied to our side. "Lord Boris Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises." Rhaenyra's voice carried and silence followed.
I looked to the floor. The way my dress skirted across my shoes. The clinking of metal against wood was loud. Like when Aegon used to whack at Aemond's wooden sword with his steel one. I jumped as the Queen's voice flowed in my direction.
"What news from Driftmark?" I raised my head to look at my grandmother. Her head remained high, her shoulders back. She emanated confidence. Embodied it even. I followed suit.
It was unnerving how Rhaenyra's eyes bore into what almost felt the space in-between. Unwavering. "Lord Corlys sails to Dragonstone."
Her voice was soft compared to my father's biting tone, "To declare for his Queen." Confidence never wavered between the two of them. It was clear to anyone here that they had never seen eye to eye.
No addressing my father, "The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke. He decides where they sail." Her voice was steady, soft and calm. Despite my father's glaring from the head of the table.
"We shall pray for both you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health," Rhaenys looked down and swallowed as Rhaenyra's words sat on her shoulders, "There's no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." Rhaenyra turned away.
I studied my grandmother's face. Stoic, but with a small smile. Pride? Jealousy? One would not know until it falls from the lips that stayed purse on the face of a woman who should have been. She turned slightly to look me in my eyes. I smiled softly at her. Her lips remained unmoving. Permanent. Unwavering.
Unlike loyalty it seems.
"Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons." Silence once again cut. Deep and harsh.
"The Greens have dragons as well," Rhaenyra seemed nervous as she rang her hands.
"They have three adults, by my count," my father cut in, "We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys." Rhaenys tilted her head. "Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer and Y/n has Selene." I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Daemon. None of our dragons have been to war," Rhaenyra's tone seemed final.
Yet, my father persisted. "There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless." I looked over to Rhaena. She looked nervous as she watched my father, "Then there are the three wild dragons, all. of whom nest here."
"And who is to ride them?"
I turned away to the sound of slapping feet on stone. Erryk moved to meet him. A messenger. A harbinger of sorts. "...surround King's Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted one spikes before the fucking moon turns."
"Your Grace. A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon," I felt my blood run cold and my mouth sour. Sweat began to prickle on my skin.
"Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies," my eyes trailed after my father. He seemed at home, interwoven with chaos. The blue in his veins. Rhaenyra remained.
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I stood in the middle of the mass. I could see the top of my father's head pacing as he awaited the opposition. My chest squeezed in distaste as Otto Hightower came into view, his own men - his grandson's men - his daughter's men trailing behind him.
Otto stopped just far enough that he'd still be able to hear over the waves, the sun painting an orange sky behind him. Ember-ed fire. "I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. I've been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the princess?"
I smiled a little at the familiar screech of Syrax as the beat of wings flew overhead. Rhaenyra circled Otto and his men as they all looked up, bodies twisting to follow her movements. And in the setting sun you could proudly see the glowing gold that sat upon her head. She landed behind the knights who all turned quickly as they leaned back as Syrax bellowed from where she is perched on the ledge.
They all parted as she walked down the middle, head held high. Her silver hair swayed gently as she came to stand next to my father. Otto stared after her, his mouth slightly ajar. "Princess Rhaenyra."
"I'm Queen Rhaenyra now." She did not waver. My gaze drifted to see my father staring at her before my eyes fell back onto her, "And you are all traitors to the realm."
"King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name...in his wisdom and desire for peace..." Syrax gently gurgled and snapped her jaws "...is offering terms." I rolled my eyes. Aegon can hardly get a sentence out over his blubbering. Were these Aegon's terms or his mother's?
"Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon." I could see my father growing restless as he shifted from one foot to another.
"Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer," my tongue kissed at my teeth. My little brother's cupbearers, practically servants to a drunken man who calls himself King while his mother practically sits the throne for him, "Finally, his King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent." Otto's voice grew rough as he got louder.
No one moved. And I didn't dare breathe, scared to make sound or the tiniest movement. "I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shield and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a King." I chewed at the sore spot of my cheek to keep from laughing.
"Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword, has the conqueror's name." And still a man pretending to be someone he's not. Like a child playing dress up before her being caught by one of her Septa's. "He was anointed by a sexton of the Faith before the eye of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him."
I felt a pit form, ready to gather dread, at the bottom of my stomach as Otto began to list Noble Houses who are all considering siding with the Greens. With Aemond. "Stole oaths will not put you on the throne princess," Otto moved forward and the Queen's Guard all moved, ready to draw their swords. Awaiting the words.
Ready for warm crimson to drip from the cold edge.
I fell back from the mass as Rhaenyra moved forward as I turned to make my way back inside the castle. "Fucking traitor," rained out across the loud as Syrax once again gurgled. I turned to see the Hand's Pin flung into the crashing sea below.
I felt content.
I hurried up the winding walk, my hands picked up the skirt of dress so I could move faster. Syrax's agitated roar called behind me just as I made it through the doors where two men allowed me in. I raced through the courtyard to where people still battled in quiet corners of their own, before the doors were opened to allow me in.
I retraced my steps back to my chambers. The fire was dim, casting dancing shadows all around, for my eyes to trace as I removed my cloak. Allowing it to pool to the floor. Quickly I made my way back to the war room.
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I stood in the spot I was previously watching my father's and Rhaenyra's argument unfold. Rhaenyra doesn't want to rule over "ash and bone" and still my father does not, will not offer her such luxury. It is clear he lives through her. He wishes it was his head haloed by a golden crown. But alas it is not.
My father all but marched to stand in front of the fireplace. The whole room was set alight, my father's shadow cast small across the table, but still large enough to loom.
"Clear the room." Simultaneously, everyone made their way out. Rhaenyra still staring at my father. Neither have moved from their current positions. My father's chest is heaving with anger. Like that night.
I fell into step with Jace and Luke. "Hello," I greeted both, kindly, awkwardly. Jace stared at my face before turning away and walking up ahead, Luke turned to offer me a smile before quickening his pace to walk with his brother once again. I stopped as knights and men and the Maester weaved around me as I watched the two boys walk away.
This is what it is to mourn a friendship rather than someone individually. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as I felt a hand press on my left shoulder, my hand moving to grab the handle of my dagger. "It is just me sweet girl," I felt the tension ease, but my shoulders ache. Everything aches.
I smiled a tired smile. Only now I realize why Rhaenys’ is so familiar. It’s the same.
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I paced in front of my - now reignited - fireplace. My dress was uncomfortable with the way it rubbed against my collar bones. My thumb nail had started to bleed as the skin around it is tared and snagged at by my clenched teeth. My eyes are turned down watching my fast and careful repetitive steps. My stomach lurched with dizziness.
I stopped to look at the exposed steel of my sword that rested on the chest at the foot of my bed. The mirror like metal glittered orange licks of fire. I sucked gently at my wounded thumb before dropping it to my side and grabbing the arm with my other hand. An insecure sense of security that could break with simple rejection.
I turned to the soft knock at my door. I sucked in an aching breath before walking forward. Scoldingly freezing iron grasped in my hand as I released my breath. I pulled the door open. My heart stuttered in my chest with surprise. Having half expected my father or Rhaenys, but neither stand in my door. Instead Jacaerys stands in their place. A welcome, nerve-racking sight.
“Jace,” I breathed as he pushed past me, “what are you doing here?” The question felt foreign in my mouth, my back turned to him as I softly shut my door with a quiet ‘clunk’.
“Why?”
I stopped, my hand still on the metal doorknob, “What?”
“I just want to know why him? Out of everyone why him?” His voice seemed far and yet; I could feel his eyes so close. I could practically feel his breath on the back of my neck. My skin itched. I wanted to scratch it raw.
I pressed my forehead to the wood and squeezed my eyes shut, “it’s simple really,” I opened my eyes to brown before turning to see the younger stood where I was pacing moments ago, “I love him. I always have.”
“And yet you bent the knee.”
“And yet I bent the knee.”
“Why?”
I huffed at his constant questions, but he deserved an answer. A reason rather than an excuse. I walked towards him, were ye level now. How strange. I remember when he was shorter. How he was so small. How quiet and high his voice was. But here he is all grown up in front of my eyes and still I blinked, and I missed it.
“Because Jace, my duty and honor lie with family rather than love that can easily be lost as easily as it was found, and yet still...” I paused trying to swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Still?” he questioned his eyes watching my face for anything. Anything at all.
“Still, I love him despite everything. I still yearn for him. I know that you know that feeling all too well. Wanting something you can’t have that is.”
His face bloomed red, “I don’t know what you speak of.”
“I was there you know. I saw how you looked at Haelena when you danced together, but that’s all it can be, a look. Anything else is dangerous, jeopardizing. As you have seen,” my voice fell tight at the end. My bones ached for Aemond and still my chest stirred with unease. “Do not worry Jace you will make for a wonderful husband for my sister, I have no doubt.”
He nodded as he looked down at his shoes. I smiled. I have missed Aemond, but all the while I had never realized how much I have missed this. Missed my siblings. “Get some rest, we will both need some for tomorrow.”
I escorted him out, my head peeking out the gap as his silhouette faded into the black of the hall.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Warnings: threats, mentioned sh, mentioned sh scars, child neglect, themes of child abuse, child loss, still birth, funerals, grief
Synopsis: Once returned to Dragon Stone you are faced with the same fate falling predicament all those years ago only this time you are forced to chose loyalty to your family or loyalty to love.
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I paced my room. The once wonderous halls of Dragon Stone now just as dull as King’s Landing. Pacing and pacing and pacing. Book heavy in my hands as I weighed all my previous actions. Was it worth it? Was he worth it?
I felt a mellowed anger. Anger towards my father. Anger towards Aemond. Jace and Luke had looked so betrayed not even my sisters could bare to look at me and yet, even with their faces before me the flash of their faces from the night that caused the conflict my heart still beat with his. I stopped, throwing my book onto my bed watching as it bounced slightly.
I jumped, turning my head at the click of the lock of my door - my father had locked me in here.
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His hand tightly wrapped around my arm as Rhaenyra followed after us as best as she could, “Daemon she is young, she doesn’t understand.” her voice called out too my father and still it fell on deaf ears. He threw my doors open the arm holding me tossed me into my room. I fell to the floor pain swimming through my thigh.
“And yet she is old enough to whore around with the enemy.” I swallowed, tears brimming my eyes. He walked over to me, crouching down to my level, “you will never see him again do you understand?” His lip curled the cold sneer brushing my nose - I turned my head away.
I fell onto my hands as his fingers clasped around my jaw pulling my face towards him again, “Do. You. Understand?” I stared into his eyes searching for any sign of remorse, but they were cold, blood thirsty, furious. He opened his mouth mockingly as if begging me to say the words and I did...
“Yes sir, I understand...” His eyes travelled across my face trying to find any kind of sign of disobedience, but all he found was fear.
“Good.”
Finally the tears fell with the clicking of a lock.
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Fear choked me as I stared with wide eyes at the door, my heart hammering against the cage of ribs in my chest. I held my breath as the door opened only for the hammering to stop and my breathing regulate.
Relief removing the strangling fingers of fear.
“Y/n,” my grandmother breathed opening her arms. I ran towards her with a sob. She shushed me and brushed her fingers through my hair slowly shuffling us to perch on the end of my bed. “Oh my sweet girl,” she lulled into my hair.
I inhaled her scent squeezing my eyes shut, willing the world to disappear, my mind going back to how she comforted me like this the day...the day of my mother’s funeral.
“I love him,” I whispered into her chest-plate only now noticing that she was in her armour. The cold metal cooling my warm tears. “I’m sorry.” I felt her nod in consideration. Taking it all in.
She pulled away, her thumbs brushing away my tears as sad tight lipped smile on her face. “Y/n I have come to tell you something.” Her hands left my face moving to grab mine, squeezing my hands gently to which I nodded ready for the information.
“Viserys has passed,” I looked at her eyes widening opening my mouth only to get stopped by her pointed stare, “Queen Alicent has had Aegon claim the Iron Throne, he was crowned before the masses, he is now King. The Queen had confined me to my quarters however I escaped.” I sat mouth slightly agape in shock. What does this mean for Rhaenyra? For my family? What about-
“Before you ask, your lover, Aemond, stood amongst his family during the coronation. The Greens intend to take Westeros do you know what this mean?” Her eyes searched mine. My mind was reeling. My heart back to being a mutated humming bird, pounding against my chest begging for release.
I looked back up at her, her expression mirrored mine, “War,” I said voice hoarse, throat scratchy and burning uncomfortably: from crying. I lifted my head, the expression going slack at the sound of Rhaenyra’s screams, the baby is coming. Just like my mother, only she wasn’t my mother.
“Yes. The war your father is currently planning,” she chewed her lip in distaste. My eyebrows rose in realisation as the anger began to return. Fury enveloped me, my fists clenching and unclenching the skirt of my dress.
“You mean he isn’t with Rhaenyra?” Rhaenys shook her head. I stood from my bed, brushing down the skirt of my dress, fetching the sword from the corner of my room along with the dagger Rhaenyra had gifted me using the brown leather sword belt that was snug around my waist. “He never learns.”
I rushed down the halls, running down the stairs into the war room; dull grey rock pasing by the melancholy world that I only just came to realise was the true world I currently lived in. A burning, wicked world.
The huge room had many people in it all gathered around the large wooden table, carved with the map of Westeros, my father stood at the head of the table giving orders, looking like a true war-lord.
I stood a bit away from the group, my head raised, “Father,” I shouted over to him. He stopped mid sentence eyes meeting mine, his hand wafting off the minor inconvenience that seemed to have been pestering.
“Ah, well if it isn’t my traitor of a daughter, I’m assuming Rhaenys released you from your room,” I titled my head to the side biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself, “come along daughter, Jacaerys I’ll show you what real loyalty is.” I jolted at the mention of Jace turning go look at the younger who stood beside me, I hadn’t even noticed him.
“Jace-”I started only for him to turn away and follow my father out of castle. I sighed following after them, leaving the warm chilling walls of Dragon Stone to the freezing lapping winds of the sea air.
We stopped on a hill. Two members of the King’s Guard stood below us. The wind whistled in our ears, all exchanging looks as we awaited my father’s words. Jace stood next to me yet, as far away as he could, eyes never meeting mine. I deserve it.
“You swore an oath as knights of King’s Guard,” My father started, I felt the anxiety craw back in, taunting me, joyous at the way it affects me. I am weak. I looked out to my right. The grand castle seems dull, its dark grey casted with a white mist. The old rock seemed sturdy, yet ready to crumble all at once.
“As do all who wear the white cloak, my Prince.” One of the men replied, I could tell they were nervous to even from where I was standing. Time seemed to drag on, the rocks of the ledge Jacaerys and I stood on dug uncomfortably into the soles of my feet, my hands clenching and unclenching in uncertainty. Nails begging desperately to be dug in, scraping teasingly across the half-moon patterned palms of my hands.
“To whom?” My eyes drifted from the two men to my father. He stood proud. Blonde hair weaving with the eerily calm wind. I sore how he shifted from one leg to another in impatience. Hands forever pressed to the tip of the pummel of Dark Sister.
“I swore first to King Jaehaerys, my Prince. And then to His Grace, King Viserys, when he succeeded him.” The darker haired man answered.
“Do you acknowledge the true line of succession?” My father questioned, strong and proud never unwavering - the man I’ve idolised, looked up to all my life.
“Yes.”
“Yes, my Prince.” They both responded in unison. Hands tightening around their helmets in an unquenched fear, no not fear....unknown. My father turned and looked at me then at Jace, taking a breath of the spiking sea air that left your throat sore.
“Do you recall...who King Viserys named as his heir before his death?” My father pursed his lips in mocking thought as though he was weighing their responses. Begging one of them to answer wrong. Daring them to.
“Princess Rhaenyra,” the one closest answered with confidence in his Queen. My father nodded in acknowledgement. The whisper of my father’s hum of consideration carried by the wind rang in my ears. The anxiety coursing through me feeding off of it in a mellow drum with in my head.
“I’m grateful for your long service to the crown. So I’m presenting you with a choice,” Caraxes screeched and I heard Jace hold his breath. the red dragon sauntered from behind the rocks a threatening sneer on its naturally curled lip, his long neck twisting, face moving closer to the two men, before it bellowed a whistling roar, the two men stepped back in fear,
“Swear anew your oath to Rhaenyra as your Queen...to Prince Jacaerys as the heir to the Iron Throne. Or...if you support the usurpers speak it now...and you will have a clean and honourable death. But if you chose treachery if you swear now only later turn your cloaks...know that you will die...screaming.”
Each pause was like an unspoken threat.
My father smiled as they bent the knee and recited their vows. His hands pressing further into the pummel of his sword. I turned my head seeing Jacaerys release the breath he seemingly held when Caraxes appeared. Turning his head, his eyes meeting mine. I nodded before my eyes turned downcast at the unclarity on his face.
I jumped at the pained screech of Syrax in the Dragon keep just bellow us. It echoed and the ground all but shook, stones quivering on the rock we stood on. I stared forward my eyes stinging, unblinking watching as the waves overlapped each other, licking at the pebbled shore. I listened at the crunch of all the men around walking away, the two King’s - now Queen’ - guards legs still wobbly. I stayed, stood on the rock, I could’t move I could hardly breathe.
The sun began to drop, the waves crashing heavier in the distance. Orange lit the water aflame. I sniffed as my father returned his shoulders dropped no longer strong and reformed almost broken and some sick twisted part of me enjoyed seeing him as a broken man. Tongue in cheek. My teeth ground together as he fell to his knees, sword embedded into the smoothed pebbles. Shoulders shaking in grief, cries unheard - the ocean weeps with him.
Too late once. Too late again. Forever late.
Funerals after funerals after funerals. That is what to expect in life, in war. I daren’t shed a tear.. I daren’t breathe or speak or comfort. I just walked away leaving my father to weep.
My room now cold like the rest of Dragon Stone embers no longer keep it warm. A black dress already played out prepared. It was long, sweeping the ground rubies lining the waist, gold detailing encircled around the fabric, a black cloak heavy on my shoulders.
Metal men followed me out to join those stood at the highest point of Dragon stone. The garment-ed table sat upfront my father and Rhaenyra stood shielding the bundle away from the prying eyes of ‘mourners’. I walked to stand next to Baela the sound of heavy armour falling behind. The wind has settled some, the sky brandishing the burning of a dragon’s flame as Rhaenyra whispered the words, Syrax setting the small bundle alight.
Rhaenyrs stayed watching the flame as my father watched her face for anything. An eerie silence settled amongst all, my heart squeezed painfully. Baela and Rhaena huddled together, close for comfort. No one moved, not even when a white cloak past, we all just watched awaiting my father’s judgement. The two Queen’s guard drew their swords my father walking up, hands always rested on the pummel of Dark Sister ready ti be drawn at any moment.
“I mean no harm, brothers.” The man was calm as he walked towards my father, helmet now removed settling to one knee as he reached into the satchel that sat on his hip. The crown pulled out for all to gape at. Rhaenyra finally turned, face unchanged, pink from the biting cold.
The man’s hands produced the crown toward Rhaenyra reciting the oath the same as his brothers only a little time ago. My father plucking it from the man, staring down at the Targaryen sigil welded at the front before looking up his eyes boring into my sisters’ and I’s. It was almost ant agonisingly slow as he walked up to his wife.
Gently the crown was placed upon Rhaenyra’s head. My father knelt head dropping in devotion, loyalty. Rhaenyra stared out eyes drifting amongst her followers as they all knelt before her. My sisters moving quickly to follow suit, no hesitation.
And yet I still stood. I could practically feel the golden sun on my chest begin to sear into my flesh. My chest stuttered, air caught in unmoving lungs. I looked down to my sisters then to Jace, Luke and Joffrey all bowing. My family. I sank to one knee, heart pounding, lungs finally releasing the breath that fluttered against their walls. I turned to look at my grandmother that stood behind me the smile on her face, pride.
