#❝Shut up Orange.❞ — OOC

[contradictivs]

black cat x golden retriever is amazing, of course, but golden boy x punk ? consider ??

[cryptidsdad]

who’s gonna be the golden retriever to robert’s black cat …

[iruludavare]

{ ooc. You know, the dex entries in scvi really explain why it is that orange and white flabebe/floette/florges are the two rarest forms out of the bunch. Why orange has like a 4% encounter rate and white is even worse at 1%... while red, blue and yellow are around 30% iirc.

Like, if it’s determined by what wavelengths of light the pokemon vibes with the most, of course the ones that have a limited, specific range will be the most common to find-- red, blue, yellow. They sit very neatly on the spectrum of light

But orange and white?? Orange has its own range on the spectrum yeah, but you can also sum red and yellow wavelengths of light to make orange... so you’d image there are Some redder and yellower flowers that an orange flabebe/floette/florges can vibe with too

And white is just... all of the wavelengths. The entire spectrum. ✨Polychromatic✨

So of course orange is the second rarest form and white is The rarest(tm) }

[yueebby]

2 + 1 — gojo satoru

synopsis. two times megumi thinks gojo is a lost cause and one time he approves of the white haired idiot

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, ooc, misogyny (from the clan heads), he is so pathetic for his wife (nauseating!), slight yandere behavior, violence, in megumi’s pov, not proofread eep

notes. can you tell i've been obsessed with the apothecary diaries? >< also how long has it been since i've posted a fic? anyways... enjoy!

fushiguro megumi has always wondered how that blue eyed idiot managed to marry you. he must have resorted to underhanded tactics; or at least that's what the sea urchin suspects. though he's never voiced it, the question has bothered him since the day he first encountered the both of you.

nobara clicks her tongue. “this is borderline creepy.” her orange eyes are filled with nothing short of distaste.

“there’s more too,” megumi’s voice responded, carefully flipping the page. the delicate artifact in his hand is something that he should have not touched. perhaps he should have wrapped it with a talisman and destroyed it while he had the chance.

it was too late for that anyway, because not even a second later, gojo satoru bursts through the shoji doors of the classroom. 

with eyes blown wide as if they were caught committing a crime (they were), the first years who had pulled three seats up to a singular desk stare at him. satoru's eyes widen behind his blindfold as he catches sight of the object of their focus.

there lies in the middle of the wooden desk was the physics textbook that all first year jujutsu tech students were required to read. however, this wasn’t just any plain old textbook. it was gojo satoru’s former textbook. brimmed with doodles of their beloved [name] sensei and gojo himself when they were back in highschool.

any free space that was not filled with words were taken up by drawings of you inside of hearts and sometimes a depiction of a chibi version of the two of you.

a true testament to gojo satoru’s pining and devotion to you.

“sensei, we can explain–” yuji attempts to explain himself but gojo holds up a hand to silence the boy. 

unlike you, megumi finds it a lot more challenging to read the white haired sorcerer’s expression with the blindfold on. he wonders if his punishment will be a painful beating disguised as a sparring session (megumi will run to you, who will scare gojo into backing down). you have that effect on him.

it seems like the heavens have answered megumi’s prayers because gojo satoru doesn’t seem to harbor any anger at his shocking revelation.

“i can’t believe you guys found this old thing.” satoru dismisses his students’ personal space by leaning closely to observe the pages. the black haired boy makes a noise of disapproval, but was quickly cut off by his benefactor. “megumi, be grateful that i’m in a good mood today.” he doesn’t elaborate the ominous message, rather choosing to hum happily as he studies his own drawings.

megumi is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

“i never took you to be the pathetic type,” kugisaki continues to flip through the pages of the textbook. yuji nods furiously, as if to agree to her observation.

“you seriously never noticed?” megumi mutters under his breath.

gojo places a strong hand on megumi’s back, a languid smile on his face, “it was only natural, considering the lengths i had to go through to win her over.” he ignores the way megumi gasps for air.

“seriously?” itadori asks in disbelief.

“seriously.” gojo confirms wholeheartedly.

megumi shudders, recollecting memories of times before gojo tied you down for good.

2009

“sorry i’m late!” gojo bursts through the dingy apartment door with a convenience store bag in his arm. he was breathing heavily, an indication that he had run to the apartment. an uninterested seven year old megumi doesn’t bother leaving his place on the couch to greet his benefactor.

“they’re in the kitchen,” he says in his monotone voice, eyes never leaving the book that you had just gifted him.

“they?” gojo walks up to megumi to ruffle his hair aggressively. he receives a hiss in return.

“tsumiki and [name]?” the black haired kid says it like it was obvious. his sentence is accompanied with an eyeroll.

at the mention of your name, gojo immediately perks up. megumi imagines that if he were a cat, his ears would be swiveling and his nose twitching, attuned to pick up any trace of your presence. he had just learned that from the nonfiction book in his lap. 

“[name]?! here? now?” gojo’s eyebrows are raised all the way to his forehead. the white haired sorcerer immediately started fixing his uniform and hair. megumi thinks it was comical. he was a lost cause.

the snarky look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees gojo leaning down, mouth wide open.

“oi brat, check my breath,” gojo opens his mouth wide for megumi to check. the black haired kid shrivels up into the couch the further gojo leans down. megumi considers summoning his newly discovered jujutsu technique, hoping to avoid his fate.

“—toru? what are you doing?” your voice, like a divine intervention, stops gojo from sending megumi to the depths of despair. a sigh of relief escapes his lips.

now it was his turn to watch gojo squirm. the older male’s face contorts to an awkward smile and all of a sudden gojo is reduced to nothing but a mess.

“don’t worry about it darling!” gojo slowly turns around to face you. “agh—?!”

megumi has to peek around satoru’s big frame to see what elicited such a response from the man.

he’s met with a wave of underwhelming familiarity. there you stand, clad in a frilly apron with a wooden spoon in hand, the essence of domesticity incarnate. the soft glow of the warm kitchen lights dances around you, casting a warm aura that seems to envelop the room.

“welcome home, satoru.” you give him your signature closed eye smile. “i mean, you probably don’t consider it your home but—“

you’re cut off by satoru banging his head on the nearest wall repeatedly. he’s muttering something under his breath that you don’t hear.

to his dismay, megumi's keen ears catch every syllable. satoru's voice, though hushed, carries a hint of longing, "what an angel," he whispers, his words laced with adoration. "just marry me already."

unamused, he watches while you try to desperately pry gojo from his strange outburst.

a lost cause indeed.

2009

in that very year, megumi learns that gojo’s efforts to win your affection had yielded no progress. it had become increasingly apparent that his frequent visits to megumi and tsumiki's humble home were motivated to immerse himself in the semblance of domesticity that your presence offered. megumi almost pitied the man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you deserve someone more sensible.

me

[name]

[nameeeee]

i’m dying.

and it’s your fault t^t

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

excuse me?

me

i’ll have you know that i worked the hardest that i have ever worked to finish all of my paperwork so i could see you tonight… only to find out from megumi that you’re on a date?!!?

i feel like my chest is caving in. 

i’m going to throw up.

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

oh this is what you’re interrupting my date for?

me

i’m going to be sick.

please tell me, is he hotter than me? wealthier? funnier?

megumi quickly looks away from gojo’s phone screen when the white haired male slams it shut and mutters under his breath a couple of curses. he’s pretty sure half of them were death threats.  honestly, couldn't you have attracted someone with more dignity?

“change of plans,” gojo claps his hands together. “movie night’s off.”

“what?” megumi protests, confusion etched in his features.

“our beloved [name] is getting swept off of her feet. you wouldn’t want that to happen, right?” gojo continues, his tone light but his gaze sharp as it bores into megumi's soul. something unpleasant coils in the pit of his stomach.

megumi feels a chill run down his spine, his mind racing with the implications of gojo's words. if you choose to date this new guy, he realizes, you won't need him or gojo anymore. and that thought terrifies him. it pains megumi to feed into gojo's delusions.

but he can’t let this unnamed suitor steal you away.

a wolfish grin makes its way to gojo’s mouth when he realizes that he’s won.

“what's the plan?”

2016

it was only years later that megumi had seen the true monster that lurks inside of gojo satoru. 

on a hot summer evening, amidst a gathering of esteemed clan heads, he and satoru found themselves in a traditional chamber. while the finer details of the meeting escape his memory, the image of the room that altered his perception of gojo satoru is etched in his mind indefinitely. the wooden walls, adorned with subtle yet elegant designs, speak volumes about the room’s significance as a venue for the most influential members of jujutsu society.

throughout the meeting, he finds himself driving in and out of focus, content to let his mentor represent the gojo clan. however, his attention is abruptly seized by a particular remark that cuts through the haze of his thoughts.

“how’s that whore of yours, gojo?” a clan head jeered, clearly drunk on the sake that was constantly refilled by the servant on the side. his flushed complexion is scarcely discernible thanks to the dim glow emanating from the few lanterns scattered around the room. 

there was only one person he could have been referring to: you. underneath the wooden table, his fingers tightened painfully into fists. pretentious bastards, megumi thinks.

another geezer rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “she has a nice body. perfect to be a concubine, but i would marry a more submissive woman.”

megumi's gaze stealthily darts towards gojo, seated beside him.

he’s startled to find the white-haired man wears a wide grin that belies a hidden truth. unseen by the elders before them, lurking beneath gojo's outward expression, is a manic gleam in his eyes—a revelation that sends a shiver down megumi's spine.

“i’d hold my tongue if i were you.” gojo satoru’s voice was dripping with venom. he sounded downright murderous.

"i'm right, am i not? we can share her if you'd like- name the price." the drunkard continues loudly.

megumi senses an instinctive wave of primal dread washing over him, compelling him with an urgent, almost instinctual need to flee or die.

before he can move a muscle, the flames that surround the room flicker before extinguishing in succession by an unknown force. the metallic stench of blood fills the air and all he can hear is the sound of flesh mutilating and bones crushing accompanied by the painful shouts of the men that once sat in front of him. he doesn’t have to see it with his own eyes to be able to sense gojo’s strong curse residue that suffocates the room.

“stand up megumi. we’re leaving.” his voice carries a feral edge, leaving no room for objection.

on their way out of the compound, the two don’t utter a word at what had just transpired. 

megumi's gaze remains fixed on the ground beneath his feet, the images of the recent events swirling in his mind, leaving him unsettled and shaken. with each step, he grapples with the unsettling realization that beneath gojo satoru's charismatic facade lies a darker, more sinister nature.

the strongest sorcerer of today, riled up by the mere mention of your name.

megumi supposes he doesn’t feel much remorse for those clan heads anyway. he was never the type to mourn over people he didn’t know dying. especially not people who he knew would live on to do evil. it doesn’t help that they were blatantly disrespecting you. perhaps he could sympathize with the monster inside of gojo.

oblivious to the turmoil that stirs inside of megumi, gojo starts to smile.

“i know what you’re going to say,” gojo hums happily. “gojo sensei, you’re so cool! i approve of you marrying my beloved [name]! kyaa~’” he makes a pathetic attempt to imitate megumi. 

the black haired boy grunts. he was going to say something along the lines of his approval for his benefactor, but all desires of flattering the white haired sorcerer disappeared.

gojo watches the black haired boy intently before tutting.

“not that it matters.” megumi is startled to hear how his voice dropped an octave. “i was always going to marry [name] and i’ll be damned to let anyone stop me.” 

2018 – present day

after satiating his students with tales from his pining days, your husband comes home often clingier than normal (is that even possible?). the moment satoru enters your home, his arms envelop you, caging you in his hold.

you can't help but giggle as his hair brushes against the side of your neck, his embrace pulling you in close, as if he's inhaling your presence.  his muscles flex when you attempt to slip away, keeping you in his tight embrace.

“sato– what is going on?!” 

“is it a crime to show my wife some love?” he kisses your neck. when his flurry of kisses stop, he resorts to absorbing all of your features with those cerulean eyes of his.

you don’t bother pushing him away again, choosing to thread your fingers through his soft hair. even after all these years, you will never not feel the effect of satoru’s eyes on you.

“i was telling my first years about you today,” he says softly.

you smile, “is that so?”

he pushes his nose into your neck again, nodding.

“you’re so good to them,” you whisper. despite the initial shock behind satoru choosing to pursue education, you’re extremely proud of how far he’s come.

“mhm,” satoru inhales. “i’d be good to our little ones too.” one of his hands sneak to your stomach.

you delicately guide his face away from your form, your fingers tenderly urging him to meet your gaze. "is there something you want to tell me?" you inquire softly, your eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.

satoru's smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "perhaps," he murmurs, his touch light as he guides you towards the bedroom. without hesitation, you yield to his lead, eager at his sudden intimate gesture.

from outside your home, three first year students stand, waiting for their sensei’s cue to enter.

“do you think he’s forgotten about us?” yuji furrows his eyebrows, hands full of grocery bags that were going to be prepared for dinner.

extra notes. had the idea of gojo and megumi crashing your date in my drafts for so long. maybe ill elaborate on it if the ppl want to see :,)

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[classyrbf]

STILL IN LOVE! #11 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, nanami x reader, nanami acts ooc for the plot, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

The smell of food filled your nostrils as you stirred in your sleep. The softness of the sheets wrapped around your skin, only tempting you to stay in bed longer. A soft groan left your lips, prying open your eyes to find the sun shining through your room, peeking through the curtains. A yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, sitting up in bed to find that you were completely rid of your clothes. Events from last night played back in your head like a movie, reminding you of the confession you shared with your ex husband. A small smile plastered on your face when you looked over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Brows furrowed, quickly whipping your head to the other side to find it was nine in the morning, way past the kids time for school. “Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you snatched your robe from your clothes, tying it around your waist while you practically ran out the room. “Naya, Megs!” You yelled, knocking on their bedroom doors before opening it. You stopped in your tracks when you were met with a neatly made bed.

“Hey,” a voice called out to you. You turned around, there standing before you was a shirtless Toji, a plate of food in hand along with a glass of orange juice. “Good morning.”

“Where are…where are the kids?” You cleared your throat, slowly shutting Megumi’s bedroom door. Toji looked at you for a few seconds before laughing. “What?” You asked, confused.

“I brought them to school this morning. Got ‘em up and everything. Don’t worry, mama.” He licked his lips before letting out a sigh. “Come eat, will you?” He turned away from you, heading towards the kitchen table where he had his plate of food ready.

You breathed in deeply, the scent of freshly cooked eggs, waffles and syrup made your stomach rumble. “Thank you, Toji. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He slides his hands over your waist, pulling you into his chest, hands now resting on the small of your back. He stares into your eyes for a few moments, getting lost in them before speaking, “are we gonna talk about last night or…?” He says in a playful tone, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“What about last night?” You let a small giggle when he presses kisses against your skin. Your arms naturally found their way around his neck, pulling his larger figure closer.

“I want you to know I meant every word. I swear to you.” His tone is serious and empathetic. A small sigh escaped his lips when he lifted his head to look at you, taking in your beauty even if you’d just waken up. One of his large hands cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it. You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, butterflies in your stomach like you were some high schooler with a crush.

You don’t understand the relationship between you and Toji, you don’t know why you two are always so drawn towards each other no matter the obstacles that get in your way. Just when you think it’s over for good, it not. It’s either you or him clawing your back up the walls that you both build until one of you are finally ready to give in. But you can’t deny that you love him—you always have.

“I missed these type of mornings with you, mama. I just want us to be a happy family again. Wanna do right by you and the kids, you understand?” His brows pinch together. His kisses your forehead as you both embrace each other, enjoying the silence.

“I understand, Toji,” you mumble into his broad chest, closing your eyes, rocking back and forth on your feet. “But I need you to understand something for me.”

“Anything,” he’s quick to respond, rubbing your back.

“We can’t just rush into the whole process. Trust me, I’d like too, but I think taking things slow and working everything out will help us realize what we need to fix,” you explain.

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “yeah, of course.” He takes in a deep breath. “Why don’t you go and freshen up before we eat?”

“Good idea.” You look down at the robe that was barely covering you, and you were afraid to look at your hair. He watches as you walk into the bathroom, smiling to himself. Ever since yesterday he can’t stop smiling like a kid in a candy store. He’s finally making progress, showing you that he can be better, that he’s changed. It’s all he’s ever thought about since the divorce, and quite frankly, he’d never thought he’d see this day come. He’s a lucky man, all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why you even still give him the time of day with the way the end of the marriage was going, but he’s grateful you’re still here.

Toji grabs two sets of forks, setting them down at yours and his plates. He could hear the faint sound of water running in the bathroom before the doorbell rang. His eyes wandered over to front door, confusion plastered across his face. He made his way over to the door, unlocking it, expecting it to be a package maybe or a salesperson, but no, it wasn’t anything like that. It was Nanami.

Toji finally got a good look at the man, the scar on his lip quirked when he saw how put together the man was for it being so early. Hair neatly place, business casual clothing, and gold watch adorned his wrist. Just as Toji was taken aback by Nanami, Nanami was taken aback by Toji. When he knocked on the door, he didn’t expect a shirtless man who looked like he had just rolled out of bed to open your door. “Uh, good morning.” Nanami awkwardly cleared his throat.

Toji leaned against the doorway. “Morning,” he simple responded.

“Is y/n here?” Nanami asked, raising a brow.

“She is.” Toji gave blunt answers, eyes narrowing as he wondered why he couldn’t possibly want to talk to you. He couldn’t be trying to win you back? Right? Unwanted jealously bubbled in his chest, his jaw clenching at the feeling.

“Can I speak with her?” Nanami’s questions sounded unsure given Toji’s attitude.

“She’s busy.” Toji went to shut the door before Nanami spoke again.

“Well can you tell her to call me?” Nanami was becoming irritated. He couldn’t quite place it but the man standing in front of him sounded familiar, looked familiar. Though they’ve never properly met, was this Toji?

“She won’t be doing that—”

“Toji, who’s that at the door?” You walked up behind him, the cold air from outside sending chills through your body, goosebumps littering your skin. Over Toji’s tall stature you could see familiar blonde hair and you got closer it felt like your heart dropped. “Kento.” Slightly shock riddled your voice.

“Y/n, can I speak with you?” So that is him. His eyes shifted from you to Toji, glaring. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“I, uh…” You blinked, stuck on what to say or even do. “What would like to talk about?” You crossed your arms over your chest, Toji standing behind you like he was some sort of assigned bodyguard.

“Our last conversation. On the phone. I…I shouldn’t have been that harsh about it. I regret what I said to you,” he sighed.

“What exactly do you regret?” You shrugged your shoulders.

“How I…ended things,” he admitted. “It was a heat of the moment type of thing—”

“Kento,” you held you hand out in front of him, “I appreciate you coming to speak me in person, I really do. But, I think it was better thar we ended things. You made me realize the truth about—”

“So you are still in love with him.” He interrupted, sharing looks between you and Toji.

“I am.” You nodded.

Nanami let out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn’t want to believe he was right, maybe he was just overthinking, seeing too much into it. But no, he wasn’t. “So you were just using me?”

“God, no! You’re a great guy, and I enjoyed the moments we spent together, I didn’t want to end things with you, but when you ended it with me, said those words to me, I started to think that maybe you were right. He was my husband for years, the father my children, I can’t just forget about that so easily.” You nervously bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry, Kento. There’s still so many things I need to work on within myself, I wouldn’t be right for you.”

“And when things don’t work out between you and him? When he ends up treating you the same way? Then what?” His tone was harsh.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Toji moved you to side, a mix of confusion and anger in his voice. “Wanna say that shit again?”

“You’re telling her what she wants to hear and she’s believing it. You’re so fucking predictable, it makes me laugh,” he chuckled.

“Kento, I tried to be nice about it, but now I need you to get off my doorstep. Right now. I’m not doing this. I don’t need no one fighting at nine in the fucking morning.” You stepped between the two. “Get inside, Toji.”

“You already let him fuck you, right? That’s all he wants to keep you around for—” Your palm connected with Nanamis cheek.

“I tried explaining to you, I tried asking nicely, and you still have the audacity to speak to me like I’m not gonna do shit about it.” Your nostrils flared in anger.

“I feel bad for the kids, truly.” Barely even two seconds after those words came from his mouth, Toji pushed you aside and swung at Nanami, his fist connecting with his jaw. Nanami fell back on the floor, grunting when his back hit the ground. You didn’t dare to step in, afraid you’d accident get hurt in the process.

Toji kept swinging, taking a few hits himself but was quite literally unfazed. “Don’t ever mention my fucking kids again!” He shouted.

You anxiously looked around, your neighbors running outside to see all the commotion, a few of them already on their phones—most likely with the police. “Toji, they’re gonna call the police!” You shouted. Your words went in one ear and out the other. “For fucks sake,” you mumbled under your breath when you heard the sirens approaching in the distance. “Toji, stop already!”

The cars came to screeching halt, police running into your yard and dragging Toji off of Nanami, forcefully pushing him into the ground. “Get the fuck off me!” He yelled as they placed the cuffs around him.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you sighed deeply, running your hand over your face. Nanami stood to his feet, blood trickling from his nose and lip. Another police over came rushing over to him, asking him if he was okay.

“Ma’am, can I ask what happened here?” A police officer walked up to you.

“Um, he,” you pointed at Nanami, “came to my house this morning to have a conversation about our relationship—he’s my ex and—”

“He’s your ex?” He pointed to Nanami.

“Yes,” you nodded, watching as he scribbled down words on his notepad. “The other man, he’s my ex husband and me and him are on the verge of working things out and it’s just they both were here at the same time, and…and”

“It’s okay, take your time,” the officer assured. “So you and your ex husband are working things out���okay. Was this a jealousy thing or what?”

“Well before me and him,” you pointed at Nanami, “ended things, he said I still loved my ex husband. So he did end things and he showed up to my house this morning trying to fix it but I explained that I couldn’t personally because…you know.” Your voice was shaky.

“Okay,” the officer nodded. “Anything else.”

“He started making weird remarks. Saying thing are gonna end the same with me and him, that he only wants me for sex, and then he mentioned my kids—”

“Your kids?” The officer furrowed his brows.

“Yeah, me and my ex husband have two kids.” You pursed your lips.

“And that’s when the fight broke out?” He asked, clicking his pen. You nodded, glancing over at Nanami who was getting his nose cleaned up.

“Alright,” the officer sighed, “so we are gonna have to take both of them in for questioning, your ex husband might even end up in jail for aggravated assault since he started the fight.”

“What?! I’m sorry, but he mentioned my fucking kids! Do you have kids?!” You angrily shouted.

“I do, yes,” he responded.

“Then you should know what I’m feeling right now, what my ex husband is feeling right now. He’s talking about our relationship, about me, trying to belittle me! It’s fucking ridiculous!” You shouted, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I understand your anger, ma’am, but there’s not much I can do besides my job. I can’t just go off one side of the story. But I will keep in contact with you just in case. Name and number?” He casually asked.

“Y/n l/n, 234-567-8910.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you.” He walked away, getting into his car, driving off with Toji in the back of it, the others following behind shortly after.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” You stormed back in the house slamming the door shut. Your eyes landed upon the now cold and uneaten breakfast Toji had prepared for you. What a great start to your morning.

a/n: aye long time no seeee pookies!! Yes I know I made Nanami act so out of character but it’s for the plot yk lmaooo

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon @fisherman-boat @mochimoee @cheridrwyy @olanii1019 @vi-ola666 @emmaperdoswife @sucrose-fqn @rhyies-pieces @tojislittleprincesss @sashadonat @ruixrei @zara-zara11 @paper--angel @khyok @ilyanadelarosa @zxnxy @esmedelacroix

[scribs-dibs]

gilded

sunday x reader, established relationship i suppose, ooc sunday perhaps, refs to sunday's trauma and a lot of his unwelcomed thoughts, ummmm it's very short guys idk

wc ; ~700-ish words

this is my (late) submission from the stellaronhvnters sillay halloween event! i used the prompt foliage this time :-)

"doesn't he owe this to you?"

Sunday lived in a gilded cage, and he liked it there.

It was safe in there, sacred, with the bars perfectly, evenly spaced, just enough room for him to see out of, just enough to see what a proper child should not  do,  just enough to see what he should be better than, just enough for him to see what naughty, rowdy children look like.

So when the cool breeze reddens your nose, and your eyes peek at him from over your scarf, and you ask him:

"Sunday, wanna play in the leaves?"

Of course, his careful, calculated answer is:

"I'll pass, thank you."

He doesn't quite understand why your face falls the way it does, but it sends a shiver down his spine. That response was wrong.

But who can blame him, really? His shirt is crisp and clean, and the leaves have crinkled and curled on the ground for ages. They're dirty. Proper, well behaved children stay at Gopher Wood's side, back straight and posture proper, safe inside his gilded cage. He longs for it, sometimes. The safety. The sacredness. The cleanliness.

But this isn't all bad either, he muses. This is as close to safety as ever— your hand is placed securely in his own, your bared flesh against his gloved one, and every so often you make sure to give your joined arms a hardy swing. You've all but shut him out of his office for the day, the sky turning a mellow pink as the sun sinks beneath the clouds. "Autumn" you had called it; Penacony removed the harsh breezes and early darkness from this season, and its reality would be distasteful if not for your unabashed enjoyment of it.

Your favorite part of this time of year, you've told him, is how the leaves change color. Greens disappear into warm gradients, and he supposes he can see the appeal of that.

But that doesn't mean he has to roll in them.

You nudge his shoulder, and he realizes he's spaced off. Uncouth. Pay attention.

"Come on Sunday! Can't we live a little?"

Sunday allows a short, clipped chuckle to escape him. Your face is scrunched lightly, the way it always gets when you want to pout at him uselessly. You refrain from doing that, sure, but Sunday can tell it's only a few minute twitches away from forming such an expression.

"We? I never said you couldn't indulge," Sunday presses a finger against the knit in your brow, ironing out the crease formed there. Such an expression causes wrinkles. "You can go ahead. I'll be here."

You shake your head immediately.

"It's not the same," you sigh, and Sunday knows that tone. It's disappointment, hard and sharp and cold. Though it is faint, a different flavor when encased in your gentler, kinder, form, he can still detect it a mile away. "But it's okay, we can still go to the cafe as planned."

You don't seem disheartened. You've moved on, gracefully, with the ease he both envies and admires from you.

Everything was set out for him in his cage. He had a role to play, and fulfilled it properly. Played all his pieces properly, too, made sure everything set out for him stayed in its proper place. When that all shattered, he was lost. It was your guiding hands that found him and picked up what was left of him. You...loved what was left of him in fact.

Now that he plays the role of "boyfriend," doesn't he owe this to you? Would this simple act be enough to start balancing the scales for the sin of loving him?

"Sunday?" 

Pay attention. Uncouth. Shame on you.

"It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Your own finger rubs at the crease in his brow. Normally, his facade is perfect, practiced. Ease is supposed to be the neutral face for a leader. He let his guard down.

"Look," you point, and overhead the trees shimmer with their reds and oranges and yellows, shining with the little scraps of sunlight that remain, "This is enough, isn't it? We don't have to jump in the piles if you don't want to."

Your hand in his grows tighter, and the reprimands that Sunday has repeated to himself again and again suddenly feel distant.

"Walking with you is more than enough, Sunday."

Sunday had lived in a gilded cage. But he supposes life outside isn't so bad, now.

Sunday takes a deep breath, and walks with you amongst the leaves.

•------------------------•

ty for reading 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ rbs & comments are appreciated !!

[dani-says-stuff]

Weak Point

❥ Back to the Control Center

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Davos Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

Summary: It was a well known fact that the Blackwoods and the Brackens hated one another, the houses would die before agreeing on anything. And it stayed that way until Davos Blackwood realized he might share one thing with the Brackens after all, his weak point.

Warnings: possible ooc davos?, i also made him Willem's nephew idk if thats accurate but whatever, allusions to smut but no actual smut, men being creepy, gross, and objectifying to reader (not Davos), mild violence, Daemon Targaryen, probably more stuff I don't remember... just tread carefully. its no worse than the stuff in the show. this is also very very unedited.

A/N: so, yeah, this is my first time ever writing for got/hotd so i hope i didnt screw it all up too bad. i started this just wanting to jot down this thought i had while watching the show and ended up getting SUPER carried away. i haven't read literally any of the books though so this could be completely messed up for all i know and i apologize for any lore butchering i may have done. i hope you enjoy !

Word Count: 6.2k

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He was running.

His feet pounding against the ground as he wove throughout the trees under the cover of the black night sky. He hoped the torches carried in the hands of some of the other men didn't betray him, the dim yellow-orange glow casting light upon his face and showing off the panic he'd been trying his best to conceal, hidden poorly behind a half-hearted snear since Willem had returned to Raventree hall. 

Willem Blackwood had announced to the room, bursting at the seams with leagues of angry Blackwood men, that their King consort had granted them leave to do whatever necessary to bring the Brackens to their knees. To destroy their alliance with the Greens and join the right side of history, pledge their allegiance to the true Queen Rhaenyra. 

At first, like all the other men and boys in the room, Davos was excited. He was practically shaking in elation, itching with adrenaline, ready to storm Stone Hedge.

To make the Brackens pay once and for all. 

He imagined some sort of battle would come from the ordeal. They would go head to head once more, fight like they always had with the other house, bring them to their knees for their Queen. It would be bloody, but the potential violence against their long-time rivals was customary, expected at this point. Or maybe they'd ransack some houses along the border. Burn a sept or two, destroy some of the more important harvest fields the Bracken's relied more heavily on.  

That is what he expected to come from Daemon Targaryen's indirect orders.

But no, there would be no fighting this time. Not exactly. 

They were to exploit the Brackens weak points.

To poke repeatedly at their sore spots until they finally admitted defeat, desperate to have returned what was stolen from them. 

Davos Blackwood did not expect to have his weak point threatened as well. 

But alas, it was. His weakest point, by the name of Miss Lady Y/N Bracken, was in grave danger, and she had no idea.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

It was an unlikely friendship that bloomed when the two were young, still green and ignorant to the centuries of history between the houses they came from.

A young Davos was practicing archery down by the border stones, unaware the large rocks were truly meant for something other than the simple job of being large rocks in the middle of the open field. He was only told never to cross them by his father... who had also told him never to wander near to them unaccompanied. 

Nevertheless, here the young Blackwood stood, a crudely made target propped up against one of the stones, alone.

He pulled back the string, one eye closed, preparing to loose the arrow. His last arrow.

Maybe this one would actually hit the target. Every shot had found purchase on the fabric at least, just out along the outer border. 

He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he let go. 

The boys eyes flew open at the sound of a high pitched squeal and the frantic rustling of leaves, like an animal caught in a bush. He soon realized that his last arrow hadn't hit the target at all, but instead flew over the stone entirely and landed somewhere in the woods on the opposite side of the border.

Had he hit an animal? Had he been such a nuisance at archery, but his luck so spectacular, he managed to miss the target by a mile yet make his first kill?

Davos was still for a moment, if he crossed the border to find the animal, his father would surly be angry with him for his disobedience, but would he be proud enough his young son managed to strike an animal that the punishment would be forgotten? 

Surely his father would be more angry when he found his son's quiver one arrow short, and even angrier when it was explained how and where it was lost. 

But just as the toe of his boot made it across the border, the rustling of the leaves returned. 

What if he hadn't killed the beast with his misfire at all? What if he had only awoken it from it's slumber, and the beast he now wished he had paid more attention to when his father and uncle spoke of the miscreants on the other side of the border was angry and on the hunt for him. 

But, rather than some large hairy creature lumbering out from the bushes, eyes glowing and drooling with bloodlust for the one who dared disturb it, he was met with a young girl. A child of his age, if not a year or two younger--it was hard to tell with the distance which still separated the two children. The baby fat, still stubbornly hanging onto the girls cheeks, didn't help either. 

She emerged slowly, eyes curious and cautious as she scanned the area before her. Back and forth, left and right, eyes hungrily eating up each and every inch of the grass, hoping to find where the wayward arrow had come from. 

Finally her gaze found his own and he found himself calling his father a liar for the first time in his life. 

She was no beast, surely there couldn't be evil creatures over there as he had said. She was far too pretty for his father's claims to be true. She looked like something divined straight from the gods themselves. 

Her hair was tangled and sweaty where the strands had fallen loose around her face, released from the intricate braided style on the back of her head. The courtly dress draped over her figure, torn and dirty at the sleeves and rips along the bottom of the skirt with mud caked in the lower fabric as if she had been running wild through the trees. A wooden practice sword lay loosely in her hand, his lost arrow held in the other. 

She may not have been perfect to everyone, but she was to him. 

She moved forward, walking slowly, making sure to glance from side to side every few steps, ensuring the two of them were the only ones in sight. She finally stopped a couple of paces before him, she raised the arrow playfully, "I believe you may've missed your target."

"Did not." he shot back immediately, kicking himself for a little for his hastiness, but too proud to let a pretty girl think he had messed up that horribly. 

She smirked, shifting slightly on her feet, "Really?" 

"Really."

"So this is not your arrow?"

"Nope."

She hummed, looking down to the obviously hand-made and well-used projectile. The body bent in a continuous curve from over use and harsh slices in the wood from where a dull knife had been used to widdle it down. She played with the feathers on the end, running the soft material between her fingers, "You sure?" 

"Positive."

She looked up, catching the gaze of the boy just an inch or two shorter than herself, "You know I can see your bow right?" she lulled, unimpressed, "No matter how hard you attempt to shift yourself in front of it, I can still see it peeking over your shoulder." she slid around the stone separating the two, leaning down to compare the arrow with the ones firmly lodged in his target, "Not to mention the arrows are from the same bunch."

Davos stayed silent, eyes narrowed at the beautiful and strange girl before him, determined not to give in.

Perhaps if he was stubborn enough, she would forget the accusation like the maids that walked the halls at Raventree did. They always gave up before too long, scurrying off back to their duties when they'd catch him doing something he wasn't meant to. 

"Well alright then," the girl shrugged carelessly, returning to her full height, no longer crouched down on her knees, "Its probably for the best these aren't yours anyway. Shoddy craftsmanship," she spoke, caressing the wood once again, "I fear a blind man may have done a better job-"

"Hey!" he cut her off, stomping forward and ripping the arrow from her gentle grip, "I spent an entire moon on these!" 

"So it is yours then?" she questioned softly, a winning smirk pulled across her face. 

Davos could feel heat rush to his cheeks, quickly causing him to hang his head, eyes focused on the pebbles sown between the blades of grass below his feet. He already embarrassed himself enough in front of this girl, he didn't need her to see his skin flush a deep crimson as well. "No."

The two children stood before each other in an awkward silence. Both not sure what exactly to say, but neither wanting to leave just yet. 

She made the first move, stepping forward and coming to a stop beside him. No longer facing the boy head-on, but rather positioned so both were looking in the direction of the target. 

"So," she began, "how'd you manage to shoot so far off anyway?" 

"'m not good at it yet" he mumbled, face still stubbornly pointed down, "'S why I'm practicin'."

"Well, try again." 

He looked up at her confused, the flush finally fading from his skin, "What?" 

"Try again" she shrugged. "You have your arrow back, so try again." 

He sputtered, about to tell the girl off for telling him what to do, but the look in her eyes made him think twice. She was so sure of herself, so determined. He couldn't leave her there like a coward, he'd already made a fool of himself, it's not like it could be any worse. 

But he was wrong.

It could be worse.

The second he let the arrow loose, it failed to hit the target again, stopping about a foot short of the stone, stuck in the grass. 

She snorted, a hand flying up to her face to conceal the noise to the best of her ability, "Do you even know how to shoot?" 

He scoffed, turning to fix her with a nasty glare, "Of course I do."

"'Ya sure?" she smiled, "Doesn't really look like it from where I'm standing" 

His glare hardened, "And what do you know of it? You're just a girl." 

She nodded once, stepping forward to retrieve the arrow from the grass as well as the one from the target, "Maybe, but my older brother has been teaching me for years." she spoke returning to his side with a grin, "And I like to think I'm quite good." 

Davos only laughed. Like a girl would ever be allowed near a weapon, there was even less of a chance one would know how to use it. 

"I'm not jesting" she insisted, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "I do know how!"

"Sure," he laughed again, shoving the bow into her hands, "Give it a shot then, why don't you." 

"Fine." she dropped one of the arrows to the floor, shoulder-checking the shorter boy as she lined herself up with the target. 

It took her all of five seconds to load the arrow, align the point, and shoot.

And she hit the fucking center of the target too. 

She turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest, the bow held in the crook of her elbow, with a smug smirk, "Believe me now?" 

"Whatever."

"Ok," she shuffled back to him, offering the bow back, "Your turn." 

He picked the arrow up and aimed, he was about to let go when-

"Stop!" she shouted, quickly moving behind him. "Don't be so tense" she scolded, poking him in the back, "Your elbow is too high," she moved it down slightly "You use it to help aim, it doesn't always need to be completely level." She kicked the inside of his feet next, "Widen your posture, your feet are too close. It'll mess up your balance and aim." 

"Are you done?" he gritted out, teeth clenching hard against each other. His arm began to ache, straining from the tension while she twirled in circles around him, giving him a whole explanation for each detail he had wrong. 

"Almost" She laughed softly, moving to stand over his left shoulder, "Just two more things" He groaned again, but she only giggled soft at his impatience, "Keep your eyes open. It doesn't have to be both if that's uncomfortable but keep at least one. Shooting blind is practically a death sentence. Lastly, just remember to breathe." she stated simply, "Holding your breath will lock up your muscles. Be fluid, not rigid." he nodded once, relatively relaxed bar the shaking of his tired arm on the string. "Good. Now shoot." 

He let go, and watched the whole way as the arrow soared through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying 'thunk'. It didn't hit the center like hers, but it was the closest he'd come thus far, landing on the inside of the ring just off-center. 

She jumped in excitement, clapping happily as she did so, "See! You did it!" 

"I didn't." he grumbled, "It still didn't hit the center."

"No, but it's closer" she spoke, excitement for the boy still heavy on her tongue, "All you need is some practice."  She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly, "You'll get there one day." 

He hummed unconvinced, he'd been practicing for almost a year at this point, and only now was he told what he was doing wrong. He doubted he'd ever master the art of archery but that was alright with him. He'd become more skilled with the sword during his training and found he enjoyed the blade over long-range anyway. 

Feeling her job complete, the arrow returned and an impromptu lesson to keep more from disturbing her peace, the girl nodded once and smiled at the boy, turning to cross back over the boundary and lift the practice sword she had abandoned on the other side. 

She was about to walk away, disappearing back into the thicket when Davos finally shook himself from his thoughts. "Wait!" he ran after her, quickly catching up to her and grabbing her wrist, "I'm Davos. Davos Blackwood." he introduced himself, annoyed he'd forgotten to do so earlier. 

She smiled, "Y/N Bracken." 

The two explored the underbrush for hours that day, picking through the bushes for berries and telling stories to one another. He soon found out her strange state of dress, was because Y/N had fled from the hall halfway through their meal. She ran, quickly escaping after overhearing her father and some lord discussing her betrothal. It would never go through of course, the Lord too upsettened by the girl's wild display to continue the conversation. 

She had fled through the hall, one of her brother's practice swords in hand and clumsily hitting the trees with it, hoping she could somehow teach herself to use the weapon so that her future would never need to be in the hands of another again. 

Upon hearing the story, he quickly offered his guidance to her, promising to bring two swords to the clearing the next day as long as she would bring better archery equipment. She would teach him the art of the bow, and he would show her the ways of the blade. 

Through their lessons with one another, they would ultimately come to the conclusion she preferred archery and he preferred steel, but both became skilled in the two practices nonetheless. 

Lessons slowly turned to practice, and practice turned to sparring until sparring gradually turned to something more over the years. 

Stolen kisses were shared in the shade of the branches. Words of affection whispered along the tall grass. Purple bruises and love bites exchanged under the cover of night and the watchful eye of the stars, easily concealed under the collars of their shirts. 

They hadn't begun knowing how divided they were due to their names, but even when they discovered it, they found the years of hatred between the houses hardly held a candle to the feelings they harbored for one another.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Fear flooded his veins when the words changed from those of violence against the men and soldiers, to violence against the women. Violence against the children. Violence against her.

"It is clear that our forces no longer intimidate them," a man decorated in silver plated armor called from the crowd, "how are we to persuade them, as you say, if they no longer listen?" 

"We shall change our tactics" a dark smirk slowly formed across Willem's face as he spoke to his men, "The crown allows us grace to do what is necessary to gain the allegiance of the Brackens." the name left his lips with a sneer, as if saying the name itself caused him pain, "So, perhaps we move our gaze from those who've come to expect us." 

The excitement of the room changed from one of violent delight, to one of lustful rage. All men in the room, old and young alike, seemed to understand what was implied from the words of both their Lord and their King. All bets were off tonight, they were to take whatever—and whoever—they wished, just as long as it pushed the Brackens to surrender by morning light.

Davos stayed frozen upon the stairs while his Uncle spoke, and the men cheered before them. Many of which, boasting clearly of the prize they wished to gain. The prize that would give them pleasure that night, as well as potential favor with their Lord and Crown. The bargaining chip above all else, the very soul that would surely break the camel's back. 

For if Y/N, Lord Bracken's most favored and precious daughter, were to be stolen and sullied, the Bracken people would surely be broken as well. Surrender would be all but guaranteed. 

That's how he found himself sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, subtly kicking rocks and twigs under the feet of his bannermen. Anything to slow them down. Anything that would allow him to get in front of them. Anything that would allow him to be the one that would reach her first. 

He'd heard the way they spoke about her. The things they wished to do to her. It all but made his blood boil, the urge to remove their tongues—or perhaps their manhood—was strong. It was what they deserved for speaking about his lady in such a matter. 

Yet he couldn't. He didn't care for his own safety, if he were to be hanged for defending his lady love's honor, he would do it a million times over. But the fact that the outcome on her could be worse if he were to confess, is what held him back.

He couldn't do anything in the bright lights of Raventree Hall, but if anyone were to come between his blade and his lady now, he cared not for what would become of them.

He'd kill a thousand Blackwoods if he must tonight. No one was going to touch her. 

When finally made it into the halls of Stone Hedge, he was out of breath and his lungs were burning. His breaths quick and labored as he gulped for air, but he couldn't stop until he knew she was safe. 

The words they levied against her echoed in his ears, filling him with a blinding rage that powered him forward, allowing the pain in his bones to evaporate from his mind. 

They spoke of her as if she were a piece of meat and nothing more. The beautiful Bracken girl ripe for the taking. The forbidden apple that was all but theirs for tonight. They spoke of how they wished to deflower her. To take her maidenhead, rip it away from her and claim it for themselves. "it's what we deserve after all the Brackens have done." he remembered hearing one say, "We deserve this." 

They didn't deserve shit. Hell, there were days Davos himself didn't believe he deserved her, if he didn't, then there was no way in hell they did. 

He tore through the halls, the anger in his soul bright enough to light the way. He abandoned his torch once he made it inside so none of the other men would be able to follow his trial. 

The screams began soon after he reached the second floor. The hushed symphony of horrific melodies carrying up the stairs and echoing down the stone halls, ebbing in on the wind through the windows of the keep, tempting Davos’ heart to beat faster in it's rhythm. 

The Blackwoods had begun their raid. He was running out of time. 

He cursed her in his mind, his beautiful girl more cautious than he, convincing him that their escapades should be confined to the secrecy the fields and forests provided. He had tried to persuade her to sneak into one of their homes, claiming she deserved the luxury and privacy of one of their bedrooms over his cloak on the harsh terrain. So she could feel the soft feather bed and furs beneath her back rather than the rough sticks and stones scratching her bare skin through the thin fabric. She always declined, arguing the need to keep their love in a place that matched that of which it was sewn from. Somewhere wild, free, and pure. 

He always laughed along with her, choosing to ignore the fear that gathered in the corners of her eyes. He knew the real reason, she was afraid they’d lose one another if they were to enter the enemy's halls, that they’d be caught and torn apart forever. So, he just laughed along and agreed full heartedly, dropping the idea so his girl could return to her usual carefree spirit. So her worries would be carried off on the chilled evening breeze, set ablaze in the light of the setting sun.

He lived for her, and if it was her wishes to stay confined in the bugs and dirt, he’d happily oblige without a complaint, even if he ended up with cuts along his palms, skin pierced by the rocks his cloak couldn’t cover as he hovered over her body in the foliage. 

But now, he was running through the large keeps halls, throwing open the doors of guestroom after guestroom in the residency hall. Panic increasing for each empty room revealed.

If she just let him come in once, if she allowed him to climb up the wall and through the window like he’d joked one evening, he’d know exactly where to go. 

Davos finally approached the last room in the hall, still no luck in finding her room. The voices of his men had increased, finally making their way to the level he stood.

And for the first time in years, Davos found himself praying. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man and he hadn't been since his mother had ceased dragging him out weekly to worship the gods. He found himself finding solace in the heart trees for their beauty rather than religion and becoming more devout to the sword than the gods. But now, outside the heavy wooden door, he found himself praying quietly under his breath. To both the God’s he’d turned his back on and the ones she treasured. He prayed to both the Old gods and the new, that his own goddess would be sound and safe behind this very door.  

“Please” he whispered, “I know I haven’t been the most… pious over the years. I know I haven’t followed the rules you have set for the people” he laughed bitterly, “In fact, there were times I blatantly went against you just because I could. But please” he begged, feeling a burning form in the corners of his eyes, “please, I beg you, have her be behind this door. She doesn't deserve what's coming if I don't find her first. I may not believe you exist, but she does. Please don’t fail her now.” 

He rammed his shoulder into the door, the lock giving way after two sturdy blows, swinging open to reveal yet another dark, empty room. 

His heart stopped, split between the feeling of devastation and unadulterated rage. The emotions clawing their way up his throat, threatening to drown him if he didn’t release them soon. 

There had to be a mistake, she had to be here. Was he already too late? Had someone somehow managed to get ahead of him and steal her away before he arrived? It couldn’t be, he was the one to break the lock and sneak around the watch in the front of the keep. 

He wanted to scream. To curse the Gods, curse his uncle, curse himself.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he punched the door frame, knuckles slamming into the stones and splitting open the thin skin from the force. A muffled curse left his lips, not loud enough to reveal himself to the men beginning their descent on the hall, but loud enough to reveal a sliver of the emotions pent up and burning its way through his veins. 

He was yanking at the strands of his tousled and sweaty black hair, pacing the area outside the open door. Mind racing as he contemplated what exactly he was meant to do next. 

But then he heard it. His saving grace. A muffled sound, a soft mumble coming from inside the bedroom followed by the quiet ruffling of sheets.

Davos whipped around, neck straining under the speed of which he snapped to face the inside of the chamber. There, he found it, shrouded in the shadows and tucked beneath the covers was a lump, with her beautiful, wild hair peeking out and laid upon the pillowcases.

He rushed into the room, slamming the door and bolting it behind him. 

It was the heavy slam that finally roused her from her sleep. She sat up in her bed, the white sheets falling down and resting over her legs as she did. She squinted into the darkness, unable to make out who it was but able to see the figure posted inside her room, the moonlight catching on the metal armor adorning the man before her. 

It was normal for a maid to come into her room, accidentally wake her in the later hours as they entered her chambers to gather things they had unknowingly left behind earlier in the day. It was strange for a knight or watchman to enter, on the eve of a gathering or a feast at the keep where her father had invited many guests a guard may be placed outside her rooms but never inside. 

“Sir?” she spoke, voice soft and confused, roughed slightly by sleep, “What is—” 

She wasn’t able to finish her question in full before the man hurtled himself at her. In a panicked haste she reached to her bedside, reaching for the heavy silver candle holder on the table, whacking the man repeatedly when he became close enough. 

“Fuck!” the man yelled, stepping back when she jumped up from the bed, swinging the candle holder before her. He reached up, one hand poorly acting as a shield before him while the other went to his brow, touching the now split skin from where she managed to strike him.

“Damn you woman” he yelled half playful and half serious, a proud smirk resting on his lips despite himself. Maybe his love didn’t need him to protect her after all. “I’m just tryin’ to help you!”

Y/N dropped the candlestick in an instant, immediately recognizing the voice that often found its way into her dreams and day to day thoughts, “Davos?” she whispered, now rushing forward, pulling him down by the neck to get a better look at the gash she’d made. “Gods, I’m so so sorry” she muttered, delicate fingers running over his brow bone and assessing the damage in the dim light provided by the moon, so focused on Davos’ injury, she failed to notice the soft smile tugging at his lips, “you–you just startled me. I’m not exactly expecting visitors in the middle of the night.” her brow crinkled in confusion, wiping away a streak of mud on his forehead and brushing through the sweat-soaked hair falling over his forehead, “And why on Earth do you look like you crawled through the riverbeds to get here?” 

He laughed, exhausted and relieved to see her standing before him. Davos reached out, grasping her elbows softly, proving to himself she was real. That he did make it in time after all. “I mean, not exactly, but that's close enough.”

She stepped back, eyes wide as saucers. Her sleep muddled mind, finally beginning to catch up with what was going on. Part of her thought it was all part of some strange dream, getting attacked in the late hours and suddenly her forbidden lover is standing before her in her bedroom. 

But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. So what in the seven hells is he doing here?

“You can’t be here!” she whispered harshly, “I–What? Davos, you need to go.” she sputtered rushing to open the door and shove him out, ushering him back off to raventree, “My father could–” 

He reached out, catching her wrist and yanking her back away from the door harsh enough her back crashed into his chest. 

“What–” 

“Stop.” he cut her off, spinning Y/N around so they faced one another, “You can’t open the door.” 

Her eyes grew even wider at his words, fear slipping into her gaze and he hated himself for being the one to put it there, “Why not?” a crash erupted not far down the hall, the sound of one of the vases clattering and shattering down onto the floor followed by a group of men, maybe three or four at least, cackling. She jumped, clinging onto his arms, her grip tight and nails cutting into his skin, “Davos? What’s happening? What’s going on?”

He looked anxiously up at the door as the footsteps grew louder, shifting Y/N and holding onto her with one arm while the other drifted to hold the pommel of his sword, “It’s a long story.” 

“Care to share the summary then?” she bit out at him, but her words were less harsh than she intended, the fear coating the statement making it far less intimidating than she’d prefer. 

“You’re in danger.” 

“Well, yeah, I kinda gathered that.” 

“This is the only one we haven’t checked,” they heard a deep voice say from through the wooden door. “Ya’ think its this one?”

“It’s gotta be” another spoke, tone giddy in a horrific kind of excitement, “It’s the last on the hall, surely the Bracken Brat is in here.” 

Davos spun on his heel, looking into her eyes with such intensity Y/N was unsure if she wanted to run or drop to her knees, “I have an idea. I need you to play along.” she nodded immediately, she trusted him with her life. Davos smiled softly, leaning down to place a long, tender kiss on her forehead, “Just remember I love you, ok? I’ll explain later, I promise.” she nodded once more, lifting on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. 

His gaze hardened a harsh sneer screwing up his features, the grip he held on her wrist tightening, “Stop struggling! I already told you, you can’t worm your way out of this one Bracken.” 

Y/N turned, swiping her arm across her vanity, a collection of glass jars and pots tumbling from the surface and crashing to the floor, “No!” she screamed, “I won’t! You can’t make me!”

The noise from the hall silenced, and both Y/N and Davos smiled. It was working. 

“Oh,” he laughed darkly, walking her closer to the door, both of them taking turns at shoving the furniture to fake the struggle, “I most definitely can–”

“My father–”

“Fuck your father” he sneered, reaching up and helping her mess up her hair further than the slight bedhead she still had, and stretching out the neck of her pale nightgown. He then grabbed her robe, throwing it haphazardly over one of her shoulders, “He can’t help you now, the Blackwoods are taking our revenge. The Brackens will finally fall once and for all.” and with that he swung open the door, tightening his grip on her wrists to drag her through the door frame. 

“What’s this?” Y/N laughed, overexaggerating her breathing to further fake the strain of the struggle as she faced the four men outside her door, “Is Willem Blackwood's little nephew so incompetent they needed to send four men just to make sure he could get the job done?” she snarked, trying to pull herself out of Davos’ grip. 

He growled, spinning her around and yanking her back against his chest, caging the girl in with his arms tight around her waist and arms. “What do you want?” he spoke, ignoring Y/N and looking directly at the men. 

“We were coming to get her,” One spoke up, gesturing at the girl with his sword, “but it seems we missed all the fun.” 

“Nah,” another added, stepping forward gleefully and running a hand over Y/N’s hair, “he just caught her, we can still get a turn later boys.” he smirked cruelly, dirty fingers dropping down to caress her soft skin. 

Y/N shifted at the Blackwood soldier's words, glancing up and seeing the expressions of sick joy on the other’s faces at his statement.

So this is why Davos had broken into her room. She could hear the sounds of what could be happening to her from the maids down the stairs, but no, Davos had reached her first. 

She moved slightly, subtly pushing more of her weight against his chest, seeking comfort in the small gestures, that he wouldn’t let that happen to her. He gripped her tighter when she did, to both assure her she would always be safe with him, and to keep him from relieving the men before them of their heads. 

“It’s just a shame young Davos beat us,” the youngest of them, a man looking to be in his late thirties, whined, “I had plans of all the ways I wanted to take her and ruin her for the first time. See her scream as I–”

“No.” Davos grit out, cutting the man off swiftly, clenching his jaw harshly between his words and a glare that could cut through iron shifting among the four men “None of that will be happening. She is mine. She is my prize for tonight.” 

“But–”

“No!” he yelled, sneering at the men, “I am the nephew of Lord Blackwood, you will not disobey me and my claim. I fought and won her. I claimed her. She is mine. My prisoner and I am not keen on sharing.” 

Y/n did her best to keep up the act. To keep the look of fear and anger on her face and struggle to get out of his grip. But something about those words and his tone of voice made her melt inside. She knew they weren’t all true, she wasn't a prisoner, but something about the way he proclaimed her as his made her think it wasn’t far from his true feelings. 

“I will be the one taking her back to Raventree. Go find something else. You will not be laying a single finger on her, am I clear?” The four men begrudgingly nodded their heads, walking back down the hall with wounded egos.

Davos “dragged” Y/n all the way through Stone Hedge and back out the main door. He found an abandoned horse not far from the gate and quickly helped her up on the saddle. 

“You’re really taking me to Raventree?” Y/n whispered as he too, hauled himself on the horse, settling behind her. His arms wrapped around her to grasp the reins. 

“Well I kinda have to” he responded playfully, words hushed into her ear, his breaths tickling her skin, “Wouldn’t make much sense for me to take a prisoner and release her that quickly now would it?” 

“So that’s all I am to you huh?” she hummed as they made their way through the trees, the cold night air pebbling her skin through the sheer nightwear, “just a prisoner?” 

He leaned down, kissing her shoulder, “Nah, you're much more than that.” 

“You sure?” 

Davos bit at her ear, watching with a smirk as she shivered, one she’d surely claim was from the cold, “I’m Positive.” 

They reveled in the moment of relief and playful joy that encompassed them on the journey back. They both knew it wouldn’t be before long when the reality of the situation would set in. The fear would return to her bones and he would need to fully explain in detail what was going on. They would need to come up with a plan on how to move forward. 

But for now, it was just the two of them riding through their forest on horseback. 

Davos swore he would be there for her when it came time for her to shatter. When she would feel safe enough to cry for the fate of her people who couldn’t be saved as she had once they found their way to his chambers for the night, and however many after Y/N Bracken was to be a “prisoner” at Raventree.

He swore that when she broke into millions of tiny pieces, he would be there with hands ready to bleed as he held her tight and helped put all the shards back together in the intricate puzzle that was her soul. 

He would always be there for her. He would always protect her.

He swore it upon the old gods and the new.

[idyllcy]

you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

[love-bitesx]

is it possible for a Hobie X fem reader on her period? Like maybe he swings by her place thru the window, goes in and the first thing he sees is reader lying face flat on the bed or ground, hand clutching her stomach 🤯

: ̗̀➛ JUST NEED YOU. hobie brown x fem!reader

genuine question: do i write hobie too soft?? idk if he's too ooc or not, any feedback would be amazing! thank u for the req !!

summary: hobie comes home to find you curled up on the floor in pain. words: 952 REQUESTS OPEN! warnings: no pronouns are used, but reader is on their period so, apply that as you choose! gn friendly. obviously, mentions of period, no graphic blood description but mentions of bleeding. hobie being a softie, as per usual.

all he could think of is you.

gliding through the streets, his shoulder aching at the joints slightly from swinging all day, his evening consisting of darting around the city and scanning the streets for any mishaps. pulling himself along, his fingers itched for you, needing to be close, smell your scent and kiss your skin.

almost crashing down onto your fire escape, he scaled the staircase to your room, sighing to himself at the familiar orange glow radiating from your window. it was open just an inch, the warmth spilling into the cold london air, and he couldn’t help but smile thinking you’d left it open just for him.

letting the glow swallow him whole, he dragged the window off it’s latch and kicked through to your bedroom, comforted by the familiarity. your laptop was open on the visibly slept-in bed, the duvet ruffled, no longer molded on the mattress. worn clothes discarded onto the carpeted floor, there was all evidence of your presence, but you weren’t anywhere to be seen.

“darlin’?” hobie called out, kicking his boots off and pulling your bedroom door open, met with the darkness of the rest of your apartment, “y/n, it’s hobie, you ‘ere, love?”

a muffled rustle in the bathroom sent a tingle down his spine, and he turned to see the door shut, the gentle white illumination spilling from underneath it. knocking gently, not wanting to alarm you, his brows furrowed at the silence that followed.

“y/n?” voice softer than his usual harsh exterior, apprehension beginning to bundle in his stomach at the lack of response, until he heard a soft, exhausted groan from within, “you okay?”

another groan sounded, and he immediately reached for the handle, shaking it rushedly to check if it was locked. it wasn’t, the door creaking open on it’s hinges, revealing the harsh white light from within. his eyes went straight to you, his heart dropping at the sight.

curled up on the freezing, tiled floor, you clutched at your stomach in pain. crouching to his knees, his cold hands reached to pull you to him, cradling your head to his chest. fingers running along your skin to check for wounds or injuries, he furrowed his brows.

your skin was drained of colour, the subtle bags under your eyes damp from tears. gently, he brushed the hair from your face, the familiarity of his touch melting you like putty in his hands. he was just the comfort you’d been craving.

“what ‘appened, sweetheart?” his hand cupped your face, bringing it up to look at him, your eyes filled with water, “use your words for me.”

“it’s silly,” voice cracking with tears, you pressed your cheek into his hand, the chill of his metal rings a weird solace.

“tell me, i can help,” a kiss to your forehead cracked a soft smile on your lips.

tearfully you begun, “i just, i woke up and- and i was bleeding…you know,” your cheeks warmed in an innate wash of embarassment, “the cramps just, they hurt so much and i didn’t know what to do.”

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t panic a little bit. not that he was uncomfortable with periods, he was never conservative about that kind of thing, but the feeling of helplessness created a conflict within him. in almost every situation, he lived to save you, it was part of his humanity, his purpose in the world. this felt like something he couldn’t save you from, it unsettled him.

“what do you need?” he spoke against your hairline, thumb caressing your plush cheek.

bringing your hands to his vest, you pulled him impossibly close, breathing in the scent of him and nuzzling into his chest, “just need you.”

melting, his chilled heart turned soft at your words, chest spreading with warmth at the feeling of you, small in his embrace. something itched at him, he was a compassionate man, but prided himself in his cool, harsh exterior at times – until you came about. a spring of safety in his dangerous conscience.

“come on, darlin’,” he muttered, securing his strength underneath you and picking you up from the inhospitable bathroom tiles. you clung to his neck, arms fluid against the sharp collar.

carrying you through to the bedroom, he placed you softly on the mattress, kissing your cheek delicately on the cheek before stepping away, “’ll be back in a sec, love.”

left without him, you tucked yourself under the covers, wincing as a wave of aching pains split your lower abdomen in half – a tear falling down your flushed face. shooting up your spine and fuzzing your head, you barely noticed when hobie stepped back into the room.

opening your eyes at the weighted feeling of hobie sitting on the bed beside you, you’re met with a fresh glass of water and painkillers, hobie shrugging off his vest and jewellery to climb in beside you.

“you didn’t have to get all that,” you smiled gingerly, sipping the liquid and sighing at the feeling.

“’course i did,” he kicked off his jeans and pulled the comforter over you both, snaking his bare arms around your waist, careful not to put pressure on your abdomen, burying his face in your neck, “need to look after you. love you too much.”

“i love you, too, hobie.”

[narizaki]

remember summer days   tsukishima kei x reader

―   tags   fluff,  established relationship,   pre-timeskip & timeskip kei,   gn reader

―   notes   i thought of this randomly,   forgive any grammar mistakes & ooc characters, wc is around 900, i am only capable of writing fluff, there's like one cuss word, ik remember summer days is from the 80s don't mind

it was on a warm summer day when you found out tsukishima kei — the love of your life, resident intimidating giant with a terrible resting bitch face — listened to 90’s japanese city pop.

out of anything that could be playing in those white sony headphones of his, you think anri and miki matsubara were probably at the bottom of the list. and, boy, did you have a field day when you found out.

“aww, kei! that’s so cute! i would’ve never thought you’d listened to this kind of music,” you cooed, scrolling through his extensive playlist. you recognized various artists, all well-known for their songs in the city pop genre, in addition to a plethora of other titles. beside you, kei was fuming. the tips of his ears were burning a red so bright that he couldn’t even blame it on the heat. he’d given up his attempts to retrieve his phone long ago, ultimately deciding to deal with the embarrassment and allow you to thumb through his music account. 

had it not been for the sheer amount of boredom you were experiencing that day, you’d never would have found out about kei’s taste in music. having left his unlocked phone on his desk while he ventured downstairs to find something cold for the two of you to eat, you couldn’t deny your curiosity about his music taste. more often than not, kei would have his headphones plugged into his phone — even when you’d first met him, he had them on. when you asked why he always had them on, he bluntly responded that they drowned out any bothersome noises with something more tolerable. 

however, whenever you asked what he was listening to, he’d brush you off. if you were to count on both hands and feet the number of times he’d simply scoffed at your questioning, telling you that it wasn’t any of your business, you think you’d run out before you even got halfway through. the curiosity was killing you, which is why you took the first opportunity you had to figure out what was so special about his music. there had to be something to it that made him inclined to practically gatekeep it from his own partner.

and to find out it was because he was embarrassed by it? you thought you were on cloud 9.

“shut up,” he grumbled, “it’s not that interesting.” 

your only response was to giggle, clicking on one of the songs you knew — remember summer days by anri. the smooth introduction of the song reverberated throughout kei’s room, and you gently tossed his phone off to the side of his bed. you stood from your seated position on your boyfriend’s bed, nudging his knees apart with your own to stand between them. while quietly humming the song, you took kei’s face into your hands, thumbs running over the apples of his cheeks.

“i know,” you replied, smiling down at his flushed face. it was a rarity he ever got close to being embarrassed, so you made sure to savor his expression. “just thought it was funny that you were hiding this from me for so long.”

“i wasn’t hiding anything from you.” he mumbled. he wasn’t making eye contact with you, but his hands came to rest on your hips anyway. he gave them an unconscious squeeze, pulling you closer to him. you could only laugh as the song continued, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“sure.”

“hey, (name),” hinata calls out. you turn to the orange-haired opposite hitter, prompting him to continue. “did you ever figure out what stingy-shima over here listens to? he always had his headphones in during highschool, but never, ever, told us what was playing in them!”

the sudden question causes you to burst out laughing, and a glance around the room tells you that everyone else is as interested. who knew those mysterious headphones of his racked up this much attention? even kageyama was watching intently!

you feel kei tense up from beside you, a harsh squeeze to your hand serving as a silent warning. don’t say anything. he’s glaring daggers at you, and you don’t doubt that he’s planning out hinata’s demise in his mind.

you almost feel bad. you consider waving off hinata’s question, brushing it off with another laugh. maybe saying something along the lines of oh, just podcasts, or whatever’s on the radio. 

but, you decide you don’t feel bad enough, so despite the burning sensation at the back of your head, a teasing grin breaks out on your face.

“well, hinata, if you really wanted to know, kei likes to listen to —”

“ah, would you look at that,” kei cuts you off mid-sentence. “it's getting pretty late, i think it’s time for us to go now. thank you all for tonight, we'll see you guys around.” he finishes, speaking uncharacteristically fast. there’s a nervous lilt to his voice that makes you cackle, shoulders shaking and tears threatening to pool in your eyes. he’s tossing a few yen onto the table to pay for your shares of food, before tugging on your arm and pulling you out of the restaurant.

once the two of you are walking back to his car, he’s grumbling about how much he hates that dumbass hinata and how he’ll definitely be paying for asking that. you take advantage of his distracted and irritated state to sneak the professional volleyball player a text while you enter kei's car.

to hinata: he likes listening to 90s city pop. think stay with me by miki matsubara.

from hinata: NO WAY

to hinata: yes way. 

to hinata: btw, if he kills me, it’s ur fault.

from hinata: WHAT NO

you snicker from the passenger seat, prompting your fiancé to side-eye you. in response, you entwine your hands, the sound of anri’s remember summer days filling your ears. 

[yayakoishii]

hi! could i request for fluff and comfort with ace? there was this one reddit post i saw abt a guy who rambled abt being so grateful and happy that he's loved by his girlfriend, and the post described how he felt that way when they were having a bath together (nonsexual, i promise! feel free to look the reddit post up). i thought the prompt suited ace so much, esp since the guy in that reddit post mentioned that he cried out of happiness, so maybe smth like this with ace x fem!reader?

ofc, feel free to skip if it makes u uncomfy ^^

~ ♠️ anon

shower me in your love | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warning(s): Nudity (non-sexual)

A/n: I loved this idea so much anon, I was so excited to write it for so long TT but post-exam creativity block really hit hard so this is a bit later than I had hoped to put out. Also, you asked for fem!reader but I think this fic never specified any body parts or pronouns at any point, so it ended up gender neutral haha... This is my first time attempting to write Ace, so please forgive any oocness ><

Please do not ask me the mechanics of a bathtub on a pirate ship and let's just pretend that can work out because the sea is on my side, 'kay? I hope you enjoy ♡ and thank you for the request!

also available on ao3!

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon but the sky was still clinging onto a fading orange. Above him, it was already starting to look like a dark midnight blue mixing into violet. Ace's shoulders slouched, the tension seeping out as he made his way to his sleeping quarters. The day had been hectic, and even the usually energised division commander was feeling a bit exhausted.

Ace couldn't wait to drop into his bed and fall asleep but the plan went out the window when he opened his door to find you sitting on his bed, your back to him.

"Hey," he called out, making you snap your neck around. Just the sight of your bright smile got a little more tension out of him. You bounced up to him, hands immediately coming up to cradle his face. You pulled him into a soft kiss and Ace exhaled slowly, pressing his body into your own soft one.

Out of the two of you, Ace was definitely the one with the higher body temperature but somehow, when you hugged, he couldn't help but feel that you were more… warmer. It was a different sort of warmth than physical– more emotional, he supposed. You felt a little bit like coming home, like coming to a fireplace after a day out in the snow.

"Hey," you said quietly, pulling back just enough to admire his face. He didn't have to say anything; he could see the understanding on your face with just one glance. "It's been an exhausting day, huh?"

"Mm," he didn't feel like talking about it, instead opting to drop his head on your shoulder. Ace pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, taking the familiar light scent of you. You giggled at the sensation, playfully pushing him without any real strength to it.

"That tickles!"

"You smell amazing," he whispered. You blushed, pushing at him with a bit more strength now.

"I'm sweaty, what do you mean?" You huffed out another short laugh. "And so are you, mister. C'mon, how about a nice hot bath, hm? I already set it up for the both of us while waiting."

Ace finally pulled away, looking at you with the softest expression. This time, he was the one to cradle your face in his hands. Pressing a light kiss on your forehead, he murmured a quiet admission of love. Gentle hands guided him toward the bathroom, shutting the doors behind him. Ace stood there as you removed his clothes and accessories with somewhat practised hands. When the both of you were undressed, you pulled him into the bathtub and sat down in between his legs.

This close, you could feel that Ace was running warmer than even the hot water around you. He quickly pressed a peck on the tip of your nose to surprise you, then grabbed the bottle of shampoo and soap to start but you stopped him. You took the shampoo out of his hands and smiled warmly when he looked at you with curiosity.

"How about I wash you today?" There was a hint of shyness in your voice, along with a sparkling in your eyes. Ace just nodded dumbfoundedly, watching you carefully squeeze out some of the shampoo into your hands. "Alright, stay still, I'll go sit behind you."

You stood up, the water splashing a bit as you carefully manoeuvred around to sit on the edge of the tub that was attached to the wall. Ace let your free hand guide his frame in between your legs and waited for a few seconds.

The moment your shampoo lathered finger dipped into his hair, he felt boneless. You weren't even doing much, just carding your fingers and working out the tangles as you ensured that the shampoo properly washed the roots and the tips, but it felt so good.

Ace couldn't really remember the last time someone touched him with such gentleness, such care and love. (He couldn't even remember who would have touched him like that the last time. Was it his mother?) You hummed a song he had heard you singing in passing, as you pressed your fingers into his scalp for a slight massage.

Another shaky exhale left his mouth along with the last remaining tension in his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes. With a soft hum, he pressed his head back into your stomach, heart singing at the sound of your giggle echoing in the small bathroom.

"Hey!" You said indignantly, pushing at his foam covered head. "Don't put your shampoo on my stomach."

It made Ace smile and he obliged, leaning his head away. You didn't touch him for a few minutes and he cracked his eyes open to look around at you, to find that you were shampooing your own hair now. You slid down into the tub and he made some space between the wall and him so you could sit properly. Once you were done, you wiped off the foam on your hand and switched to the soap.

"Alright, c'mere, my big baby," you grunted, trying to pull him by his arm. He blinked then let you pull him into the position you wanted. And then you are sitting in his lap, soap being lathered onto his skin with diligent hands. He didn't say anything and just stared quietly at you from the close proximity.

Normally, having you in his lap would get him a little… excited, but today, the action was so non-sexual and domestic, it seemed to hurt. Every movement and word you had said felt mind-numbingly relaxing. Half a year ago, if someone had suggested he would be in this position with you, he would have laughed and called them to get their marbles checked.

Right now though, he couldn't believe his own luck as your fingers dragged over him with a gentleness he had yet to experience from elsewhere. He was strong. Everyone knew that. You knew that. But even knowing that, you always touched him so softly, so gently, that it made him feel like he was made out of fragile brittle glass.

He kinda liked it.

To be vulnerable in front of you only was something he could agree to. No one had ever been this patient and loving towards him, and the fact that he loved you too much to even put it into words crashed around inside him as he watched you soap yourself up.

You were beautiful, obviously. He had to be blind to not notice how gorgeous you were. But sometimes, he couldn't help but think that your real beauty lies in how you just fit in with everyone so well. You were understanding, you were kind and you were there whenever anyone needed you. You were there when Ace needed you. And even though you were there for him, silently understanding what he needed, you never expected anything back for it. It was purely an act of love.

He wasn't talking much like usual today, but you didn't say anything about it. You only continued in your actions, washing away the soap and the shampoo with the water. Ace continued to stare at you, wondering if you were really real.

You were so good to him. He remembered when Marco had mentioned after you announced your relationship that you were good for him. He hadn't really understood the depth of that sentence until now. Until this moment, sitting in his bathtub that was definitely not made for two people, as you washed him even though he was a grown adult who could do it himself.

And it wasn't really about the ability to do it, was it? It was more about the feelings and the thoughts behind the action– it was about the care you felt. Of course you knew he could do it– but you wanted to do it for him anyway because you loved him.

You loved him so much, he couldn't help but feel thoroughly loved and blessed. You, who could have fallen in love with anyone, had fallen in love with him. On his down days, he couldn't help but think that you deserved better than him. Right now though, he couldn't think of anything else but the fact that he was so grateful that you chose him out of everyone.

Whatever made you choose him– he would forever be grateful to it. You were the best thing to happen to him.

"Ace?" Your concerned voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked at you. You were done cleaning off both of you, but you were back in his lap. Familiar hands came up to wipe away what Ace realised were tears streaming down his face. He felt a little mortified that he cried over something so small but, like always, it was like you could read his mind. "It's not insignificant if it makes you feel something so strong. Just let it out, hm?"

He didn't really need your 'permission', but the moment you said that, his body seemed to take it as the cue to cry even more. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt you guide his face into the crook of your neck– you knew he felt embarrassed about crying in front of you. You just did it to let him save face; you let him hide his face in your embrace.

Ace sobbed into your neck, body shaking as he felt your fingers card through his hair and draw hearts into his back, over his tattoo. The two of you stayed like that for a while until the tears finally stopped.

"Let's dry up?" Your eyes were soft as you helped him stand up and out of the bathtub. "And then we can cuddle in bed all night. How does that sound?"

You didn't need to say it out loud to let him know how you felt. Ace watched you wrap a towel around him and then yourself, the unspoken words lingering in the air alongside the steam.

"Sounds amazing."

I love you too.

°•❀•°

all likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

★ Taglist for Ace:

@toertchen | @boomboom-tanjiro2019 | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki

let me know if you want to be added/removed!

[writingmeraki]

cold enough to chill my bones.

a roronoa zoro drabble !

pairing : zoro x gn!reader, teasing frenemies to ???

genre : fluff, romance, they like each other but aren't dating...yet.

warnings : not any i can think of! if you find anything alarming then lmk :)

author's note : enjoy this quick drabble while you wait for the first chapter of the zoro series!! and also i got the idea to make after i got almost sick last night- maybe zoro is a bit of ooc? idk i just love the idea of him being a menace while flirting but not knowing what to do when someone flirts back at him lololol let me know what you think ! <3

word count : 1k

Despite the sun almost blinding you as it set, the sky turning into shades of deep pink intertwined with light purple and hints of yellowish orange, you felt cold.

Naturally, you'd always been the type to get cold easily, quite literally. Before even the harsh winters used to begin, you'd be getting the chills amid the warm autumn.

Though. it was beneficial when it was the blazing summer and you were always not on the brink of dying due to the immense heat as your cooler hands and feet made you more comfortable. 

But today, it was a bane to your existence as your teeth chattered as you sat down on the lounging chair in the middle of the ship, trying to rub your hands to bring life back to them. 

“Seems like someone can’t even take the fall breeze huh?” 

The familiar voice taunted you and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was probably smirking as he looked down at you. 

Sighing in annoyance, you faced Zoro and clicked your tongue when you were right about him smirking. 

It was a tad bit distracting though, especially since he looked too…attractive than you’d like to admit.

“If you’re here to taunt me then leave me be.”

“The weather is annoying enough anyways, I don’t need another nuisance.” Not wanting to entertain him today, you turned your back towards him and faced the sunset. 

Too bad it was such a beauty but your body wasn’t allowing you to just simply be in bliss to enjoy it. 

Suddenly you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders, which took you by surprise as you flinched to stand up and yelped loudly. 

“Calm down idiot, it’s just a jacket,” Zoro said as it was his turn to roll his eyes,

“For the record, I didn’t come to ‘annoy’ you as you said which is quite ironic coming from you but I saw you shivering like a drenched cat,”

“So me being the considerate person I am,” You scoffed at his humble attitude which he chose to ignore, “I’ll let you wear my jacket for the time being.” 

Honestly, you were confused. Zoro was a confusing man you‘d concluded. Since the time you’d joined the crew, he’d been confusing you by saying something different, different as in finding every way to taunt you but then he’d be nice as a true gentleman with his actions.

Like right now for example. 

So ultimately, you were confused about how to thank him.

“Uh…thank you?” You’d thought it was best to just say it, figuring it was enough as you pushed your arms throughout the black clothing that was a tad bit larger than you. 

Of course, it was larger near the shoulders, enough to fit almost two of you inside.

“That’s it? That’s how you thank me? You know I almost saved you from I don’t know shivering to death here?” 

You sighed, now in exhaustion at his over-exaggeration, it wasn’t like if he hadn’t helped, you’d have not gotten up yourself and gone into the kitchen since it was usually always warmer as Sanji was always cooking something and the heat was always bubbling there.

He tsked at your sighing and supposedly unappreciative attitude, ready to go on a rant about how people nowadays never appreciated the little things and whatever.

When suddenly you got an idea. 

“-sometimes even if a gesture may be less, you should sti-” You shut him up by leaning forward, on your tiptoes and pulled him by his yellow shirt closer to you, landing your lips on his surprisingly soft ones.

That oughta shut him up. 

You pulled away in about three seconds, eyes shut as you just relished how soft they were and how right you’d been about them being like this from the countless times you’d imagined kissing him.

When you pulled away, you saw something you didn’t think you’d have seen anytime soon. 

Zoro was red, a bit wide-eyed as he stared at you, not speaking another word, his cheeks highlighted with a blush that was familiar to you in a way it was something you’d always experience whenever you’d check him out for too long. 

“Sooo is that enough for a thank you?” You smirked at him tauntingly, thriving in the way he was speechless, happy he could feel how you felt at times when he decided to shamelessly be a menace, a cute one, at that. 

“Now if you excuse me, I have some work to do.” Turning around, you didn’t say anything else as you tried to hide your giggles recalling his comical expression of astonishment.

“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” After a few moments of gathering his thoughts, Zoro was able to form a proper reaction.

“I deserve more than a peck! Kiss me like you mean it-” You burst out into giggles now at the way he was whining as you shook your head abruptly turning around to face him when he began to follow you. 

“For that you have to earn your way to it!” You mocked him, pocking your tongue out as he glared at you, now crossing his arms.

“Are you seriously messing around with the Roronoan Zoro, demon pirate hunter?”

You rolled your eyes at his seemingly serious tone but you knew he was playing into the little thing you’d created as his lips twitched, trying to hide his grin.

You grinned widely at him, now your dimples peaking out, 

“Ohh if you are the pirate hunter, you’ll have to catch me first to get your treasure!”

 As cheesy and cringy as it was, you caught him off guard as you turned around and ran, figuring the place to run to was likely the kitchen in the confined space you had.

“HEY! Now you’re just cheating!” You heard him shout behind to which caused more giggles,which left your cheeks aching from how widely you’d been smiling.

Admittedly, the once cold you’d been feeling was now replaced by the warmth unknowingly yet knowingly caused by the oh-so-famous pirate hunter.

Maybe he did deserve a proper thank you afterall huh?

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest. I don't own any of the characters from the movie, rightfully belonging to One Piece creators and the Netflix franchise and also this is a fictional work, not relating to any of the cast in real life.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 2

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 1 794

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Of new names and teasing

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part

Duke knew that Dani was in their agreed meeting point, he even vaguely knew where she was floating but not much more. She used her invisibility, which was weird since she knew it didn't work correctly on him. It was fifth time they met, of course they knew. 

"Hey Signal, remember how you said that I need a codename if we're going to hang out in future and that all my previous ideas were horrible names?" a disembodied girly voice asked. Duke smiled. Ever since he raised the idea, the girl would come up with ridiculous names to be called, proposing them with absolutely straight face. It was expected from someone who thought Dani Phantom was a good alias. It didn't make her ideas any less amusing.

"Of course I do. Whatcha got for me today?"

"Alright, since you don't let me be a name stealer, I decided to take a sheet from local nightlife's notebook–"

"You mean take a leaf from their book?" He was sure she was rolling her eyes on him, but it didn't stop him. No one could maim English language like that with him around.

"Whatever. I chose to steal their idea and became a bird. It's only fair since I can actually fly!"

"Can't exactly disagree. So, what did you get this time?"

"You'll like that, I promise. But now, I introduce to you…"

Duke got ready to shut down every Robin iteration and all Birdgirls he could think of.

"HOOPOE!" Dani yelled, popping back to the visible spectrum. She was covered in bright orange cape with weirdly shaped hood and flimsy mask "I even did some costume changes to fit the name better–" in all honesty, one, yeah, he wasn't blind he realized, two, he needed a moment to remember how these birds looked (his first thought was 'wait it's a thing?!'). But then he got it and yeah, those were funny little creatures, just like Dani. It fitted her "–so even if you don't like it, it doesn't matter," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Duke patted her on the head. He was there, he knew it mattered.

"It's a great name Hoopoe"

Dani visibly though probably unconsciously, relaxed. Her mouth curved into a proud grin and her aura brightened. Normal auras didn't do that. He got used to Dani surprising him like that sometimes.

"Of course it's great, I made it."

Duke chose to not remind her about almost two dozen times she came up with absolutely not great names or about the fact that technically she didn't quite make this one either. He wasn't in such a petty mood. Maybe in future if he needed blackmail.

Oh, it was such a Bat thing, wasn't it? He needed to spend some more time with his civilian to get it out of himself, he liked his ability to interact with normal people in a healthy way. 

*

"Wait, is your mask a paper?"

"What else could it be, titanium?"

"If you stop three muggings on the next three patrols each I'll get you a better one, okay?"

"Hey, my mask is perfectly fine"

"Yeah, but it can tear too easily. I can get you a mask that is more sturdy."

"Aha."

"It's the same material every Robin and Nightwing wear…"

"Don't care, my mask is flawless"

"..."

"Okay, better mask would be cool"

***

On the third patrol Dani joined, about a week and a half ago, they exchanged numbers. Duke knew how hard it was to come to terms with new powers on one's own and God strike him with a lightning or something if he ever lets anyone go through similar bullshit. Especially since she didn't seem to have anyone taking care of her. Girl her age shouldn't be able to hang out or respond to messages within ten minutes at any given time. Only twice she didn't do that, because she was on a celebrity hunt for autographs as she later explained. He would be teased endlessly if any Wayne or their associate learned about it, but he considered introducing Dani to Bruce. She needed help, okay?! He didn't inherit adoption tendencies.

But he hadn't done that, partially because he didn't want to scare Dani off and partially because of fear of teasing. And bet. Because of course in the meantime somehow there happened a bet. 

He smirked at the video Dani sent as a response to the hydration check. She was tossing a coin and playing an elimination game to pick one juice from eight drinks she had. Steph jumped over the back of the couch to join him. At the start she was in front of him so to do that she had to run around the furniture but such minor inconveniences couldn't even wish to stop her dramatics.

"You're smiling at your phone ergo you either text your secret girlfriend/boyfriend/enbyfriend or watch memes. Show me the memes," she demanded, nudging him in the arm. Duke chuckled.

"Wrong guess. I'm texting my sidekick," they agreed it would be a funny way to introduce Dani to people who asked. Duke tried his best at this whole having sidekick thing anyway. As well as he could without help from other Bats because of this damn bet.

Steph froze for a moment.

"Your what–"

"And the lucky winner is… an apple with mint juice! Damn I really hoped it would be lemonade,"  Dani from the video announced cheerfully before opening the bottle" Shame it didn't make it past semi-finals. Happy hydration break. I'm going on an autograph hunt so I may not respond for the next two hours or so. Wish me luck, bye~"

Duke paused the video before it replayed. He glanced at Steph who finally rebooted.

"How come you got a kid and I learned about it just now?"

“In my defense I'm like 60% sure you're the second person in the family to learn about her. Depends if Tim got his ‘I have to know everything, gotta check body cams’ paranoid spree in the last two weeks or not. There was no teasing from Babs or anyone else if I'm being honest and no lecture from B, so they have no idea.”

“First was Alfred?”

“First was Alfred. I still don't know how.”

“That's our grandtler for you. You are forgiven but you have to tell me everything about her,” Steph demanded excitedly. “And show me the photos''

Duke snorted.

“She goes by Hoopoe and is about Damian's age. She can tell you her real name when B inevitably finds out and tries to interrogate her.”

“What if Spoiler drops by during the day?”

“You can try but give it another week and a day, okay?”

“Why?”

“We have bet that I'll hide her from B for three weeks. Tomorrow is the end of the second week. We both know how he is, he'll have questions if you randomly show up during the day."

"Stakes?"

"Speedster worth of winners favorite Batburger meal, 2 quarts of chosen drink and cookies"

"Valid. I ain't snitch, but I want to know more. Is she a meta?”

"Yeah. Powers I know of are invisibility, intangibility, superspeed, enhanced hearing and flight. Probably more. I think she already had some training with it because she has quite amazing control over this stuff. Like, it comes naturally to her. But her hand to hand is atrocious."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Omg, you totally are! Don't be, she is just a baby with a better idea of what's going on with her powers than you have with yours. There is nothing to be mad about Duke, it's okay Duke–"

"Keep going and I won't tell you anything about her," he dared, trying not to snort. 

"Sorry, sorry, you're doing great, please continue," she nudged his arm again "Don't be such softie, dude" He stared at her at the comment, disbelief clear on his face. Steph at least then looked a little ashamed "Okay, sorry. You're honestly doing far better than any of us would. Excluding Cass and Alfred."

"Excluding Cass and Alfred," he agreed easily enough.

"So, you think your kid has some training with her powers," she recalled eagerly.

"Yeah, probably from when she was helping her cousin. He is a hero in Amity Park, Illinois, his name is Phantom. It took very little digging even though Hoopoe does her best to stay mysterious. I swear this kid has no brain-mouth filter. But! I got my second shovel talk from her cousin!”

“The what?”

“After a week of hanging out with her, I got message on Signal’s twitter from Phantom that basically read as ‘I have nothing against you, really dude I’m a fan but here is list of my most powerful enemies, and let me tell you, there were some scarily powerful guys there, I won with all of them, if something bad happens to Hoopoe I can and will destroy you.’ After some research, yes, I think he could try and have considerable chance of success. Even if he didn’t fight would be painful enough to be a lesson. He and Hoopoe have the same powers and she worked with him for some time. She most likely learned then. She was called Dani Phantom, boy went by Danny Phantom then”

“Dear gods, their aliases were so horrible, who even let them go with it?! Are those their first names?!” Steph sounded genuinely offended by it.

“I don’t know,” Yeah, he knew, but he preferred to keep at least this secret to himself ”In boy's defense, because Hoopoe came much later,  he was fourteen and Amity went to shit really fast, so alias was probably not his first concern. And it’s much better than Invioso-bill, name he was given by the press. And he uses some intense gaslighting to make people believe it’s just Phantom now. And allegedly they’re both ghosts. Apparently ghosts don’t exactly have secret identity”

“You doubt it”

“You would too. She eats, she breathes and she is tangible by default. From what I know, ghosts don’t do that”

“They don’t, I checked. I went on a research spree when I first learned about Deadman. I just thought it was so cool you know. Ghosts being real and all,” Steph leaned towards him, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Really?” he asked, knowing what he was getting into.

“Yeah, you see…”

And on she went, releasing expected infodump as if she waited for this opportunity ever since she first read about it.

********

Some additional name getting shenanigans

Signal: I won't call you Dani in the field

Dani: Why?

Signal: Ever heard of secret identity? Name is, like, half of it. Disguise is other half but it can be exchanged with lore. Superman made it work. Just make up enough lore for people to not question it.

Dani: Oh, okay *gremlin^2 mode activated*

Random they just rescued: And who are you little one?

Dani: *looking them dead in the eyes* I am clone of dead child hero, travelling around the world to find identity separated from my template befre mistakes made during my creation make me turn into puddle of primordal liquid and my conciousness fades forever

Random: *petrified* What?

Signal: *internally* I have miscalculated

Dani: Kid Signal

Signal: No.

Dani: It works in Central

Signal: We're not in Central

Dani: Signalgirl

Dani: I mean, Batgirl exists

Signal: No.

Dani: Monochromatic Signal. Y'know, Red Robin route?

Signal: ...

Signal: Just no. Don't make my name part of your name

Next part

Do you want to see some Hoopoe doodles I made? There were redesigns!!!

[runningfrom2am]

what happened to lucy gray baird // LTPF

summary: what became of lucy gray baird and sejanus plinth? you finally get some answers after sixty-five years.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this is kinda sad btw. just a heads up.

a/n: happy birthday to my bestie @that-veela-girl ! this was requested by her bc we talked ab this AT LENGTH in an ask and we just needed to see it fleshed out. also bestie i made some minor changes i hope that's okay with you ahhh

series masterlist // playlist

Lucy Gray stumbled up to the cabin, hours after she was certain you and Coriolanus had left. Her heart had finally stopped pounding, and the bullet wound that only just grazed her back was still burning. Trying to stop the bleeding was hard when she was all alone.

She takes deep breaths, sighing in relief as she opens the cabin door in the dark of the night. She was free, or so she hoped. She peaked in, gasping as she saw your figure asleep on the makeshift bed, Coriolanus's scarf gripped in your hands held up just in front of your face as the moonlight seeped in through the open door. She couldn't believe she had considered you a friend.

You looked so peaceful as you slept. Harmless, even. But she knew better. She closed the door quietly, begging the universe to keep you asleep long enough for her to get away. Where you were, Coriolanus Snow was never far behind. Lucy Gray quietly stalked off into the woods past the cabin, leaving any hope of returning to the lake or the cabin behind. She would go North, just like the original plan.

After hours of walking in the dark, the day would break- finally. Finally, she could breathe again. The sun was still rising when the smell of smoke reached her, making her furrow her brow as she looked around. Up ahead, between the trees, there was a fire sizzling out, coals still burning just enough to illuminate the area around it. She hears a twig snap a ways to her left and quickly jumps behind a tree to hide, heart racing and forcing her blood to start to seeping from her back again. She could feel it.

"Lucy Gray?" The use of her name makes her tense up, and she doesn't dare peak out of her hiding spot. "Lucy Gray, is that you?"

She knows that voice, but it's not Coriolanus, and it's certainly not you, but the Capitol accent still has the hairs on the back of her neck raising.

"It's Sejanus, you don't have to hide. I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes shut tightly. That's exactly what you had said to her before you tried to kill her. She couldn't trust Capitol folk. Not anymore.

"Lucy Gray..." The footsteps get closer. "I thought you were dead. She tried to kill me, too."

Lucy Gray opens her eyes, holding her breath as she peeks around the side of the tree trunk. Sejanus is there, several feet away with his hands held out to show her he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says again.

Taking a shaky breath she nods, stepping out from her hiding place but keeping her distance. "She tried to kill you?" She asks him. "You weren't there when we arrived... I thought you didn't make it."

"I was there. Just went to scout out what our path should be." He explains. "I heard it all. What he did to you..."

Lucy Gray shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I thought I could trust 'em."

"I did too." He replies quietly. "They were my best friends. My only friends. They tricked us both, huh?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head.

"Apparently." Lucy Gray mumbles.

"Come. Sit. You must be exhausted." He nods for her to follow him back to his little camp where he had the fire going.

"I just want to know why." Sejanus mumbles after close to an hour of silence, both of them sat quietly by the now dying fire.

Lucy Gray stays silent, just nodding as she stares into the orange coals. "I should have seen it sooner. She was just so... odd. So back and forth. I should have known when she flipped a switch and turned into a whole new person when she showed up at the hob."

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen that girl do." Sejanus agrees, tossing a stick onto the rubble of the fire. "She's crazy. I always thought that was a good thing, she stood up for herself, she wouldn't go down without a fight to get anything she wanted. She'd scream and throw things like no one's business when someone said something she didn't like. Lucy Gray, you have no idea."

"But you were friends with her. Why?"

"Why were you?" He asks, turning to her and raising an eyebrow.

Lucy Gray opens her mouth to answer, but she can't bring herself to say what she wants to.

"I get it." He admits. "She's good when she wants to be. I've seen both sides of her. She's... Complicated, but at the end of the day, I'm not much different than her. She's braver. Much, much braver, though. I mean, I've seen her get violent before, but nothing like that. I could never hurt anyone."

"They deserve each other." Lucy Gray mutters, and Sejanus hums in quiet agreement.

Snow littered the grounds of the presidential palace on the day Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray returned to the Capitol.

The whole building had a chill that stung Sejanus down to his core as he was lead through the large halls, the building more lifeless than it had ever been. Quiet. Haunting.

When he thought back on his life in the Capitol, a full lifetime ago, he did imagine at the time that you and Coriolanus would occupy the space; filling it with life and tones of red and laughter and love, despite everything the Capitol leaders had done. He had hope back then that you would have done better.

The guards open the doors to what appears to be a bedroom, large with endless opulent decor and a patio overlooking the back of the property.

He doesn't say anything when he enters and the doors are shut promptly behind him. He turns, seeing the guards had entered now. Likely, in an effort to protect him.

"Leave us, please." He prompts them quietly, voice rough from nothing more than the decades that had passed. The guards look confused, but obey anyways. Sejanus had been on the receiving end of your anger before, and he was one of few who lived to tell the tale. You wouldn't hurt him.

You were sitting at the window, looking out at the snow falling over your garden. You turn your head when you hear his voice, eyes already wide. You stand up slowly, holding the arm rest of the chair as you stare at him in shock. "Sejanus?" You ask, but it comes out more as a comment.

"Y/N." He smiles. Smiles. You could be sick.

You're not sure if this is a fault in your medication- if you had been distributed too many by Thirteens doctors and you were losing your mind, or if Sejanus Plinth was truly standing in front of you right now. You let out the slightest laugh from shock, eyes welling up with tears.

"It's good to see you." He says, taking steps toward you, hands held behind his back. He was older, like you, but you didn't have a doubt in your mind that it was him.

He had survived. All this time.

"Oh my..." You shake your head in disbelief as he opens his arms to you. After all this time- after what you did, something so long forgotten from your memory, he was greeting you with a hug.

You hug him back, once again unsure whether or not this was real. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and you had been executed by something so boring as an untraceable overdose. You certainly hoped not.

"Sejanus..." You cry, patting his arms as you pull away and looking him up and down.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, almost inaudible to you even from right there.

"Sorry?" You reply, that same dry laugh falling from your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I... You're alive. I'm proud."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this." He clarifies and you look down, then cast your gaze out the window.

"Yes, well... we have never been well liked." You admit.

"You were by me."

"But not anymore?"

He doesn't respond, motioning for you to sit down as he pulls over his own chair to sit across from you. You both sit down, and you continue to stare out the window.

"We had a good life. He gave me everything I have ever wanted." You sigh. "I apologize... for what we did that day. I have felt a great deal of... guilt, over it. I hope you know."

He nods, keeping his pleasant shock to himself. You were sorry. He didn't expect so much from you after what he had seen and heard of your actions over the years. "Why did you let us go?" He asked, and you look over at him again, your face falling into one of confusion.

"Us?"

"Me and Lucy Gray."

"Lucy Gray..." You mumble. "That's a name I haven't heard in years." You shake your head, hurt building up inside you. It doesn't settle well. "Not since Coryo told me that he had buried her."

This wasn't true, of course, you had brought her up a small handful of times since, but that was when you were under the assumption that she was under the brush in the woods of District Twelve by the cabin at the lake.

Sejanus's eyebrows raise. "I... No. She escaped. She is alive, too." He says, trying to gauge your reaction, but you keep much of your emotions to yourself. All that gave you away was the tear that fell down your cheek as you stared down at the greenhouse.

"I see."

"You are scheduled for execution tomorrow afternoon." He states. "Coryo will be the following day. Coin wants him to be hurt by your passing, there will be a big celebration and they want him to be a witness."

"A celebration." You chuckle, wiping your tear away. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Wouldn't you prefer to go together?"

The way you hesitate is what he knows is his ticket in. "That would be preferable." You say after a moment. "But we will be together soon, regardless."

"I have spoken to some people from Thirteen, and they are willing to let you go." He tells you, and you shake your head before you even think about it.

"No. I will not be happy without him."

"I think that's a hasty assessment." When you don't respond, your pride refusing to let you admit anything different, he continues. "Is that true? Or are you just so used to being with him that you can't imagine being happy without him?"

"He is my whole world, Sejanus." You answer honestly. You hadn't known anything different since you were eighteen years old.

"Y/N, one of the things I remember the most about you is that you won't let anyone get in the way of what you want. You've always been a true independent." He reminds you.

You're silent for a moment, reeling over the realization of what Coriolanus had truly done. To him, it was likely a harmless lie to keep you calm. To be able to leave you out there at the lake for days without fear, and it worked. But it could have cost you your life, if Lucy Gray was more vicious than she was.

"Lucy Gray saw you, in the cabin." Sejanus tells you, almost tracking your thought process. "That he had left you out there alone. She said you had never looked more peaceful than when you were sleeping."

Your blood runs cold and you slightly shake your head. He just confirmed your fears, and you think he knew that. She could have killed you, but she didn't. You were just as lucky to be alive as he was, and it was at the fault of your beloved husband.

"I never forgot what you did for me. You saved my life, then you could have killed me, and I count myself lucky everyday that I had made a friend in you." Sejanus says, reeling you in further. "And I just want to offer you that same freedom now. I know you deserve it."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes still locked on the snow coated greenhouse outside. "I have some conditions."

After he leaves, you are escorted outside and down to the garden. You would spend what was meant to be your final night there, with your husband.

You wanted to hate him for lying to you, you really did, but you couldn't. If you were to hate him for anything he had done, that would have happened years ago.

"My execution is this afternoon." You say to Coryo, approaching him as he admires some of the roses.

He hums in response as you join his side, picking one of the delicate flowers and holding it out to you with a gloved hand. You smile as you accept it.

"We were happy, weren't we?" You say softly, smiling down at the rose in your hand.

"Indeed." He grins, looking at you now.

"We took a lot of risks, and that rewarded us."

He smiles. "I would say so."

It was the end and he knew it. There was no use in fighting anymore.

"Would you have done anything differently?" You ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to you.

"Maybe I would have let you step in to prevent that stunt those kids pulled last year." He comments, sitting next to you. "But when it comes to us... no. Not a thing."

You nod slightly, looking down. "Sejanus is alive." You tell him.

"Is he really?"

"Yes. I just spoke with him."

"What did he have to say?" Your husband asks.

In the very same way that he never told you about Lucy Gray, you never told him you let Sejanus go either. Were you really any better than him? "That he is sorry." You answer simply.

"Well, he got what he wanted." He replies. "He shouldn't apologize for that. We never have."

"I agree, but he was more sorry for us." You explain, reaching out to take his hand beside you. "That it had to end this way."

"I see."

"I only wish that our children would have had a better chance." You say softly. You gave them everything- they were spoiled rotten their whole lives and prepared to take your place, but they would never get that chance. They were to be executed just after you, if Coin got her way.

"We gave them everything we could. This is not our fault."

"No." You agree. "It isn't."

"What about Cecelia?" He asks quietly. Your granddaughter was extremely special to the both of you, to him especially. She looked just like you, and every time he looked at her it's all he could see.

"Sejanus agreed that she will be well cared for." You promise, squeezing his hand. "She'll be okay."

He nods slightly. "She looks more and more like you every day." He says, unable to help it. "I remember you, when we were her age."

You smile at the memories, nodding. "I miss those days."

"I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling." He admits, voice cracking as he looks at you. "I feel as if I didn't tell you enough."

"You showed me every day." You promise, patting your other hand over his. "You were the best person I could have had by my side all these years."

"I love you." He says, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." You didn't want to talk anymore- you felt so incredibly guilty for deciding to leave him. It was betrayal. Maybe that is what would kill you.

You only have a few minutes before the glass doors are cracked open, and you look up. You know it's time. Commander Paylor is standing there with some guards, and she just nods at you.

You stand carefully, squeezing your husbands hand again as he joins you and remembering something you had heard him echo to you dozens of times.

Never let them see you bleed.

So it would be a silent goodbye. You drop his hand, looking up into his blue eyes for the last time as you take a step back.

He smiles as you raise your hand to your forehead in a salute. You don't need to speak- he knows what you mean. You weren't sure you could if you wanted to.

'Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.'

He smiles, refusing to let the heat in his head manifest into tears as he gives you a curt nod, a slight bow. Your show was over.

You can't bring yourself to look back as you are escorted, for the last time, from your beautiful garden.

The sound of fireworks and music comes from the home Coriolanus Snow had shared for so many years with the love of his life. The most perfect person he has ever known, and he knows that the sounds of national celebration are his indicator of your passing. So that was it. You commanded and filled the energy of every space you entered, so he wondered now, after you were gone, why the air didn't feel any lighter.

He stared at the bare trestles that in the spring had always held up your raspberry bushes. They were gone, waiting to sprout in the spring. He can hear you, still.

'Raspberries are perennials."

Only then, when it was dark and he was alone, completely alone for the first time in years, did he cry over the weight of your death. Again.

All that was left of him was that boy on the train, crying over a letter he knew you would never receive.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo.

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[eliasorchard]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀?

— angst, death of character, william hallucinates, kinda ooc

"could you please drop me off?"

the scent of petrichor wafts through the atmosphere. the weather is cold, but not freezing - still, cool.

chime of a bell, door creaking open, then shut again.

just as william was about to open his umbrella and step under the light and drizzling rain, you make your appearance - walking up and right besides him.

william looks down at his pocket watch. 4:35 PM.

his lips twitch, it's the same as always. you're here. as always. "yes," he reaches out his arm. "of course."

and then you link your own with him. you stepped into his life the moment you first stepped under his umbrella, or perhaps maybe even before that. he remembers coming to this café when he had only recently began his profession as a professor. it was raining then, too. he remembers the exact tea and pastry he'd ordered, watched as you'd made it,

how the back of your fingers had brushed against his own when you set down his order - he remembers.

he remembers it all.

"how was your day?" you'd ask every day without fail.

and everyday, without fail, he would answer softly to you: "the same as it always is. how was yours?"

then you'd go on a tirade about how it went, the rude customers you had no choice but to face, the little lady that comes everyday with her nonna, the orange cat that always seems to appear out of the blue on the window sill at exactly twelve in the afternoon.

it is all sweet, those conversations you share daily. you're sweet. it is a wonderfully sweet routine.

it was not love at first sight to him, no-but perhaps a quieter fascination that settled within him, which he knew would deepen over time, he knew that you would grow on him like moss, that you would sink under his bones and forever make it your abode.

"are you busy this evening?" william questions, stuffing his free hand inside of his pocket, feels for the little box and once he does - smiles to himself. he likes the feel of his fabric of clothes brushing against your own, the weight of your forearm resting over his own. and although he's nervous, he knows he'll do perfectly well. or at least he hopes to.

"i'm never busy these days."

your shoulders turn to him by the slightest degree and you lock eyes with him as you always do, never wavering - always straight ahead. well, setting aside the moments you fluster when his slender fingers come to push away the stray strands of hair falling over your face when you're eating something.

or the times when he's getting you the most thoughtful of gifts, like that one time he made you your hobby-related gift set and the time where he bought you your own personalized jewellery.

"and why is that?" william chuckles softly.

you smile. "i'm sure you already know the answer."

a small pause from him.

"i do."

he hums, nodding his head in acknowledgement before he turns to look forward. the two of you walk side by side, skipping over puddles and accidentally getting the muddy water over the ends of your clothes - not that any of you mind it right now.

a chilly wind, a little harsher than a summer breeze, blows past the trees all of a sudden, and william watches as withered leaves float away. as if struck by a subconscious realization, his hold tightens on you.

perhaps a little too much. he can't help it, not right now.

william sees you in those leaves.

will the wind, too, carry you away?

"liam?"

red irises turn to you, eyelids wide open. there's a semblance of fear in his expression and a slight tremor in his fingers that you can't help but notice.

"i'm fine, my dear."

william pushes it away, though, and instead swallows his words away, pushes his fears and concerns aside. once again grips with the box hidden inside of his pocket and, yes, it's there, grounds himself to reality.

"william, are you alright? i'm worried you might be...struggling more than you're letting on. perhaps you should consider speaking to a professional."

as they walk, a concerned elderly neighbour approaches william, her brows furrowed in worry.

wlliam shook his head vehemently. "no, no, i'm fine. truly. (name) and i were just...discussing something."

her eyes turn to the space besides him. she frowns.

"i really think it would be best if you came with me to speak with dr. wilkins. she's a wonderful psychiatrist, and she might be able to help you through this time."

mrs. henderson pities him, and her hand comes to rest on his arm before he flinches, pulling away.

"i don't need a shrink, mrs. henderson." william winces, growing increasingly agitated by the second. he's murmuring a silent apology before excusing himself. "(name), come," he holds onto you by your wrist, guiding you away. "i'm not crazy, i'm..."

william's voice trails off as he realizes where his feet has led him. the familiar path had brought him to the graveyard, your final resting place. although he's afraid that he won't find you when he turns his neck, from his peripheral vision he can already sense it,

you're already gone.

and now he's face to face with your tombstone.

the reality of his situation strikes him hard.

right, there's a lump in his throat now - and he can't seem to swallow it no matter how many times or how hard he gulps. right. you passed away months ago.

slowly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the velvet box he's been holding for the longest of times now, running his thumb over the smooth surface.

"i bought this ring for you about a month ago," he murmured, gazing at the simple band. "i can't seem to stop getting you things, even though a part of me somewhere knows you won't be here to wear it."

a long silence.

"i'm sorry." he apologises weakly. can you even hear him? "i should've been there to protect you that day."

and william watches as the rain continues to fall on your tombstone, over you. "oh, you're getting soaked," he whispers quietly and kneels low - getting on eye level with you and holding an umbrella over your grave, gazing with bittersweet fondness.

he isn't sure if what he'd been seeing ever since you passed away was a figment of his imagination he created, or if it was, perhaps & hopefully, your spirit. william realises that either way, even if a ghost still loves, all it can do is haunt.

"shall we share an umbrella again?"