#and THEN i was like ''well why would that change anything??''

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

just imagining that the thought Vi has with how Jinx treats the reader (season 2 bc they think powder is really gone) makes her think that powder is still in there somewhere. Random thought while writing this, what if like how people say ‘if something bad keeps happening there will be good eventually’ so I like to think that Jinx has the reader who for some reason is never killed or anything. Just Jinx’s one good thing. Lol

Idk if this is a request but it inspired me

If ya want listen to Wildflower by Billie Eilish for this cause it also inspired me

Wildflower

During season 2, Vi felt all hope for Powder still being in there fading away

She loved her sister more than anything and she wanted nothing more than to get back to hurt during her time in prison

But when she got out and saw what her sister has become, what she helped her sister become, it aches deeply in her heart

To see her sister root herself so deeply as Jinx, the way her mental state has depleted so much, and how much her sister has changed hurts

It’s so hard that after episode 9 where Jinx blows up the council, Vi finds herself giving up entirely

She forced herself to accept that Powder is gone and all there is now, is Jinx

She denies her sister being there cause if Powder was still in there, why would she show herself to her big sister?

Why would she hide herself from Vi?

Vi only knows Powder is in there when Jinx is with you

She sees Powder in the way Jinx holds your hand

Vi sees Powder with the way Jinx runs to find you, how she’s always looking for you in a fight or how she’s always having your back

Be it you met in childhood or after she was taken in by Silco, Jinx and you were stuck together like glue

Vi could tell Powder was still in there with the grin Jinx gave you when you smiled at her, the grin reserved for you when you entertained her sister and asked her questions about her gadgets and weapons

She sees Powder in the small pour in Jinx’s lip when you reprimand her softly, scolding her out of care

The way Jinx cradles your hand, the fear in her eyes when she thinks you have gotten hurt

She hears Powder as well in the giggles you manage to pull out of Jinx

In the way her sister shields you from harm, the way her hand is always seekin yours or how you’re never far from Jinx

In the way Jinx protects you and never leaves your side

She sees glimpses of Powder day in and day out whenever she sees the girl

But it’s never because of her, because of Vi, Jinx’s sister

No, Powder only shines through when she was with you

Powder came out when it was safe, and Vi knew that

Powder found a home with you and in your heart, and Jinx accepted that and accepted that part of herself when she was with you

And Vi hated it

She hated how hard her heart aches when she sees her sister so willingly herself when with you

Not her

And she knows why, she knows how you held Powder and Jinx in the palm if your hand

How you loved the both of them, how you’d take both parts of Jinx and cherish them all the same

Powder or Jinx, you loved her

Hates how Powder melts away and hides the moment she makes eye contact with Vi, the grin of her sister and wiping and storing itself away to wherever she stores what was only meant for you

She looks so happy and alike to the girl she knew

Only. With. You.

[anamericangirl]

So you obviously don't read articles, you just look at headlines and then think you're informed but I would encourage you to read the articles you find and do extra research instead of taking everything at face value because then you don't come off looking as uneducated.

This article is intentionally leaving out information to make people like you who don't do research and just trust whatever headline you believe a particular narrative.

Neither you or the article explain how this is the fault of pro-life legislation and one of you is going to have to do that if you're blaming the legislation for it.

There is nothing about pro-life laws that prevented this woman from being treated. Abortion laws in Texas do not prevent miscarriage care. Anything the doctors deemed necessary to do could have been done under Texas abortion laws, even an abortion. The law clearly has exceptions for cases just like this one. And it does not consider treating a miscarriage an abortion.

This woman could have been treated and should have been treated and any doctor worth their salt is well aware they could have helped this woman in any way they saw fit. If they were also idiots and didn't understand the abortion laws, delivering the baby early was also an option. Why didn't they do that?

Sounds more like some very bad doctors committed malpractice when they saw an opportunity to be activists.

So this is a case of you not knowing anything about the abortion laws and the media lying and you just believing them for some reason.

Your information is inaccurate. Pro-life laws did not prevent treating this woman and no pro-life laws prevent women from being treated.

Women aren't threatened by a Trump presidency and spreading disinformation like this doesn't change that.

[merakiui]

there is a knock at your door.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, kidnapping note - will you open it? // a birthday gift for the lovely and amazing @fish-brain-go-brrrr!!!!!!! may your special day be filled with eels, tako, and boundless happiness. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for being a wonderful friend!! have the best birthday and enjoy this little gift hehe!!!! 🎉

Knock, knock. 

The door opens to reveal your friend since forever: Azul Ashengrotto.

And, more importantly, his Alaskan Malamute, who bounds over in quick clicks to greet you. You laugh as she all but pushes past Azul’s legs in an effort to reach your outstretched arms.

“Well, excuse you!” Azul laughs. She slobbers all over your face in her form of affectionate greeting before pulling away to sniff curiously at your suitcase. “Someone’s excited to see you.”

“I haven’t even gotten through the door,” you remark in between giggles.

“Okay, Pepper, that’s enough.” Azul clicks his tongue and she parts from you (not before delivering one final lick to your cheek. He smiles and pats her affectionately. “Good girl.”

Despite Pepper’s impressive size, she’s nothing but a softie. A gentle giant, some would describe her. You remember when she was just a puppy, small enough to be cradled in Azul’s arms like a human baby. How she’s grown!

“If you’d come this way, you can put your stuff down.” Azul shuffles aside to allow you to step fully into the foyer of his smartly-furnished home. “I’m sure you’re already familiar with everything, but it won’t hurt to reiterate.”

“Please do. It’s been a while since I’ve been at your place. Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed, though.”

He hums and shuts the door behind you. It locks smoothly. You trail after Azul, wheeling your suitcase down the hall and into the sitting room. Pepper bounds after the both of you and makes herself comfortable on a fluffy dog bed.

“Pepper’s feeding schedule hasn’t changed. Although I did switch to a different brand of dry food. This one is much better. Vet’s orders and all that. And every month I have a chef come in to prepare her a special, nutritionally balanced meal with only the freshest ingredients.”

“Wow! Isn’t she spoiled?” you tease in an exaggerated baby voice.

“I take care of my things,” he replies simply, shrugging your playful remark off, “and Pepper deserves only the finest.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

As if having realized she’s the subject of conversation, Pepper barks.

Azul leads you through the house into the kitchen. It looks different from the last time you saw it and you realize he must have had it redone. Every appliance is brand-new, winking back at you when you peek into each gleaming surface.

Sleek, you think, admiring the wall oven. 

“Pepper gets one cup of dry food twice every day. Once in the morning and once at night. On Fridays, I give her a can of wet food as a treat. She can have that whenever you think is best. I usually do it around late morning, early afternoon.”

“Dry food twice each day. Wet food Friday. Got it.”

He opens a small door to a cupboard packed neatly with cans and containers. “This is where I keep her food. This bigger door is for human food. The wonderful pantry.” He knocks on it playfully.

Knock, knock.

You attempt a poor joke. “So it’s not just all dog food?”

“I have to feed myself,” he says, dramatically aghast. “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure about that?”

Azul barks out a chuckle. His mouth quirks up in an amused half-grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stocked this one full of everything indicated in the preferences you sent me.”

“So that’s why you asked me for that list! I just thought you wanted food recs.”

“That, too. You have unique tastes.”

“Microwave and canned meals are always there for me in my darkest hours.”

He hums. “Well, I’ve made sure to get each of your human favorites, so you needn’t feen for those too much.”

There’s a razored edge to his remark that makes you shrivel inside. As if your appetite is cheap in some way, more like a dog’s than a person’s.

But this is his house and it’s his money. You wouldn’t put it past him to factor in the pay cut for unnecessary sass. So you simply bare your teeth in a smile and take the punch, whether it was intended for you or not. Sometimes you forget he’s supposed to be your friend. 

“You’re welcome to use the kitchen. The whole house is your oyster, really,” he continues, guiding you towards the back door. It’s then when you notice the little black camera positioned in the corner of the room, its red eye peering soundlessly back at you. You wonder if that’s a new addition—the dog cameras. You can’t remember if they were there the last summer you were here. “Pepper has a tendency to stay out longer than she needs to after she’s done her business. She’ll come to the door once she’s had her fill, so there’s no need to fret. Although I’m sure she’ll listen to you. She’s quite obvious in her favoritism…”

You laugh but not because it’s funny. Because it’ll hopefully land you within his good graces, which is patently absurd if he’s meant to be your friend. You’re not even sure you can call these favors friendship when they’re transactional. If anything, you’re friendlier with Pepper than you are with Azul.

Am I really closer with a dog than a human? you think as he opens the door for you to view the fenced-in yard. You watch Azul gesture, his lips moving with his words. Actually, maybe Azul’s the dog.

Doubtful, but that doesn’t make the imagery any less comedic.

“I’ll be back next Monday. If you need anything or have any questions, you have my number. Oh, but just in case I’ve written the schedule for you and pasted it on the fridge should you forget.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this, considering everything was such short notice.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We’re friends. Plus, Pepper loves me.”

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s more than enough of a bonus. Speaking of which, how much would you like to be paid?”

“However much you’d like to give me,” you blurt and immediately regret it.

“I researched the average pay for dog-sitters, but there were just so many conflicting opinions and variables. So what do you think would be best? Please don’t sell yourself short on account of my asking. I’m always willing to give you more for your services.”

Taking a pause, you contemplate his words. If you factor in the grocery trip he made on your behalf and his letting you stay for the week alongside the tasks you’ll be completing for Pepper…

You open your mouth to suggest four-hundred madol, but he beats you to it—and with a completely different amount.

“Does three-hundred suffice?”

“Sure. No, yes. Yeah, that works.” You smile, but you aren’t very pleased.

“Wonderful! If you ever find yourself thinking you might need more, please do tell me. I want to make sure you’re paid accordingly. Good work deserves equally good acknowledgement, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod. If you know anything about Azul, it’s that he’s always willing to work with you when it comes to finances. He’s a businessman, so of course he’d know how to flawlessly navigate these types of situations. And having built himself a career and life on hard work, he has the confidence to throw numbers around and see which one sticks.

Briefly, as you follow him to the front door, you try to imagine yourself in his shoes—a businessperson who dresses smart every day, who never has to worry about money, who doesn’t have to be silently amazed by shiny appliances and refurbished kitchens.

And then you wonder if Azul is in the market for a spouse, but that idea is swiftly stamped out when you realize how silly it sounds.

He props his suitcase against the wall and bends down to welcome Pepper, who can easily match his height, into his arms. She licks at his face, sniffing the cologne spritzed on his suit, and he doesn’t seem to fuss over the hair.

“I’ll see you in a week. Be good to (Name) while I’m gone.”

Upon hearing your name, she whips her head up to look at you.

“She’s always good no matter what,” you vouch, reaching to scratch behind her ears. Her tail wags wildly. “The best girl.”

“I’m glad.” Azul pulls away. He plucks a lint roller from the side pouch in his backpack and casually brushes down his front. “I trust you’ll be fine in my absence? Do feel free to sleep wherever—whether on the sofa or in the guest bedroom upstairs. The sheets were just washed and the room is clean. Mine is as well, but I suppose it may be awkward to offer it.” He coughs into his fist. “Regardless, whichever space you find most comfortable, consider it yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you for everything, Azul.” You hold the door for him as he drags his suitcase over the threshold, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Have a safe flight.”

Pepper joins you at the door to watch. You wave to him while he lifts his belongings into the trunk of his car, and then within mere minutes he’s pulling away and driving out of sight.

“And that’s that,” you announce, ducking back inside with Pepper. You shut the door and lock it. Surveying the sitting room, your hands situated on your hips, you wonder what you should do now. She peers up at you, just as expectant. 

The first thing you decide to do is peruse the pantry and the fridge. All of your favorites are arranged within. It’s actually too much, you realize, now unable to settle on a single option for dinner.

So instead you swipe the money Azul’s left for you on the counter—in case of emergencies, the note reads—and decide that this predicament is dire enough for pizza.

Knock, knock.

You pop up from the sofa and trot over to open the front door. Pepper gets there before you, barking loudly at the person on the other side. Gently, you shush her and peek out through the small crack to greet the driver. They smile and hand over your food. Rushing through the process, you give them the amount owed.

The door shuts and locks with a click.

“You’re babysitting for the same rich guy? You’d think he’d give you a raise or something since you do it so often,” Ace mutters into the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s only a week.”

“Still a week’s worth of work. Why do you even feel bad? Ask for more. He said he’d give it to you, didn’t he?”

“I dunno… I mean, we already agreed on an amount and I don’t wanna seem like a greedy asshole—”

“(Name), he’s rich. They’re all greedy assholes. If he has the money to spoil his dog with monthly fancy feasts,” he says, putting on a posh accent, “then he has the money to pay you what you deserve. If you want, I could always say something. J-Just because you’re too chicken and all, I mean! Sometimes you need superstar Ace to step in. No need to thank me. I know I’m great.”

Propping your feet on the armrest at the end of the loveseat, you roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Case in point! So you should totally ask him for more. Wring him out like a money rag.”

“We’ll see… He did buy a bunch of food for me and he’s letting me stay. He even left money for emergencies.”

“You used it, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m not stupid.”

Ace laughs. “So you’re alone then?”

“The dog’s here, too. You wanna say hi?” You tap your phone. “Okay, you’re on speaker. Pepper, you wanna meet my friend?”

“What’s up, Pepper!”

She lifts her head from where she’s resting on her cushion, her ears raised curiously. Her only response is a soft huff.

“She says hi.”

“You sure you’re not putting words in her mouth?”

“Surprised you couldn’t understand her, you dog.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, you pick at a loose string on your sweater. Azul’s house is always so cold. “But, yes, it’s just the dog and me. Why?”

Ace is quiet for an uncharacteristic beat. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Dunno. Just figured you might want some company. I could come over.”

You understand the implication coyly woven into his words. “I’d say yeah—”

“Really?!”

“But he’s got cameras. For the dog, I think.”

“So just cover them up?”

“Wow, great suggestion. How long did it take you to think of that one, brainiac?”

“I’m just saying… He’s away on a business thing, right? How much time is he gonna have to watch the cameras?”

“If he’s neurotic enough, he’ll find time.”

“He shouldn’t be if he trusts you to look after the house.”

“He also trusts how easy it’ll be to connect the dots if something goes missing from his house.”

“It’s not criminal to have a guest over! Geez. You make it sound so illegal…”

“Tough luck. If you really wanna hang out, we can just get lunch next time I’m—”

Knock, knock.

You sit up slightly on the sofa, brows furrowed. Is someone at the door? At this hour? You’re certain Azul isn’t expecting anyone, and the mail isn’t due to come until tomorrow morning. You glance at Pepper. Her eyes are closed, but her ears are raised, listening.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Hold that thought. I think someone’s at the door.”

You manage to catch the very end of Ace’s don’t-get-murdered warning just before you set your phone down. Azul’s door has a panel of frosted glass, so even if you wanted to discern the person’s features on the other end you’d have to open it for confirmation. All you can go off of are shadows.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open and poke your head outside. The crisp air hits you like a slap.

No one’s there.

You check around in case someone dropped something off, but there’s nothing in sight. Nothing on the stoop. No mail to collect.

Did someone have the wrong house? you think, trying to picture the scenario in your mind. Or maybe some dumb kids are pranking me. 

Now irritated, you shut the door in a huff.

It’s summer. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Maybe it’s precisely because it’s summer that they don’t.

You choose to brush this annoyance aside in favor of picking up your phone to return to the conversation.

“Sorry about that. I’m back.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah. No, yeah. All good here. Just some kids thinking they’re funny.”

“Yeaaah, no surprises there.”

“You’d think they’d stay away. Azul’s probably got enough money to sue them for disturbing the peace or some other stuffy nonsense and win.”

“They’re kids. They’re not gonna know any better.”

“Says the public menace.”

“I’m not that bad! Cut me some slack. I’ll have you know, I’ve matured significantly since my school days and I am very much a changed man.”

“Yeah, oookay.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure, Mr. Mature. Anyway, it’s late. I should let Pepper out and get to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want me to sing you to sleep?” he teases.

“I actually value my sense of hearing, so no. Thanks, though.”

Before he can retort, you bid him sweet dreams and hang up. Gazing at the camera positioned in the corner, you rise to your feet.

The cameras are definitely new.

“Pepper, sweetheart, you wanna go outside?”

She seems to have understood that last part, for she scrambles out of her bed and pads over to the back door with a swaying tail. You open the door for her, and she rushes past you in a blur of fur.

Good. She’ll get one last run and bathroom break in before bed and hopefully we’ll be fine until morning.

Like a wine stain on a white shirt, your eyes are drawn to the camera once more. You can understand having cameras outside the property, but inside the house feels…unusual. But then you’ve never had a dog of your own and you’ve always lived in apartments on the highest floor, so maybe this is what most dog owners do when they need to monitor an overactive animal.

Maybe they’re those cameras that you can speak through! If that’s the case, then I can totally see him talking to Pepper or scolding her if she’s up to no good. Okay, that makes a little more sense now.

Another reason hits you, and you feel foolish for not realizing it first: For safety and security’s sake, too. Of course.

Your phone buzzes then and you pull it from your pocket to read the message. Ace has sent you something stupid on Magicam, no doubt. You’re about to open it and confirm when—

Knock, knock.

An admonishment on the tip of your tongue, you storm through the hall towards the front door. You throw it open this time, and like before you find empty space.

“Not funny,” you seethe, stepping out into the cold night to peer through the neat hedges and flower bushes. Surely those kids are hiding somewhere… “It’s late. Go home already!”

You don’t receive a reply. For a moment, you wait in anticipation. Wherever they’re hiding, they’ll have to get up and retreat eventually. It’s oddly quiet. You strain to listen for any giggles or whispers.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

And then Pepper barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shut the door slowly, watching the outside slim down until eventually all you see is your warped reflection in the frosted glass.

Weird…

Again, Pepper barks.

“I’m coming! Wait just a moment, Pepper!”

You lock the door and scurry to let her in. 

Come tomorrow, those kids won’t be able to hide in the daylight, you tell yourself as you brush your teeth. And when I catch them, I’ll make sure to give them a talk on why it’s not nice to bother other people, especially at night when it’s dark out. It’s just unsafe for kids to be out late anyway!

When you settle into bed, you realize the house is perfectly still and silent. Pepper is snoozing comfortably on Azul’s bed. You never realized it, but Azul’s house seems bigger at night. More rooms. More space. Lots of shadows. A creak every now and then as everything settles. It’s in between sleep that you begin to wonder if you locked the door.

It’s fine. I’ve got Pepper to keep me safe.

Comforted with this knowledge, you fall asleep.

Knock, knock.

There is a knock at your door.

You jerk awake and, rather clumsily, feel around in the bed for your phone. It flashes the time back at you. The rest of the world comes trickling in through dull, still-sleepy senses. You finally register Pepper’s bark, which is beginning to sound more like an alarm with how relentless it is.

“Shit. It’s already afternoon?” And then you sit up. “Shit! It’s already afternoon!”

You rush down the stairs, apologizing profusely to Pepper with each step. She’s waiting for you at the very bottom, pacing in circles and barking at you.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I completely slept in. You must have to go really bad.”

She races you to the door and you yank it open in your haste, heaving a relieved breath when she bursts outside. You lean against the doorframe for support and bask in the sunshine that spills in.

The weather’s beautiful today. I can’t believe they were saying it might rain.

While Pepper runs laps outside, you busy yourself with filling Pepper’s bowls with the recommended amount of dry food and then fresh water. Her shadow appears against the door a few minutes later and so you let her in.

“Just in time,” you praise, watching as she trots eagerly over to her bowl.

With that out of the way, you begin preparing a very late breakfast for yourself. You can’t remember when the dishes from before were cleaned. Did you do them last night before bed?

“Doesn’t really matter,” you murmur, slicing fruit for a salad. “One less thing I have to do. Thank you, (Name) from the past.”

You skim through the notes Azul’s pasted to the bulletin board. Instructions for Pepper’s feeding schedule, reminders, times and dates. But then there are also things he’s left for himself. A calendar with important events marked. Various notes for miscellaneous things: Bring suit in for cleaning. Meet with dietician at the end of the month. Celebrate colleague’s birthday. These tiny slivers of his life remind you that Azul is a busy person like you. When you look at the stars he’s doodled around dates of particular importance, you feel yourself smiling. He’s not such an intimidating figure when you look at him through his calendar.

A text from Ace coaxes you out of your thoughts: u still on for tonight?

Tonight? But then you remember. Oh, fuck! Deuce’s birthday! I forgot we planned the surprise for today.

hell yeah!!! is your enthusiastic reply.

Later, while you’re getting ready for the evening, you think you hear someone knocking. But the running water drowns out all sounds from downstairs. If Pepper isn’t barking, it’s likely nothing.

You leave the house somewhat frazzled, hoping to shake off the strange suspicion that something isn’t right.

The biggest surprise, aside from jumping out to shock Deuce when he walked into the restaurant on account of thinking it a date—yes, you and Ace catfished him for this very cruel, irreverent birthday joke—is perhaps the text you receive from Azul.

Is it raining? Did Pepper track mud in the house?

You read it three more times and then you peek outside the window. It’s been raining ever since you arrived. So much for perfect weather… But Pepper couldn’t have gotten into any mud because the ground was dry earlier today.

No?? you write back, confusion bubbling in your chest. I haven’t sent her out since this morning when it was sunny. It’s raining now, but she hasn’t been out at all.

Horrified, you begin to wonder if you somehow spilled something during breakfast. Or did Pepper have an accident in the house? Did she get into something? A million questions headline your thoughts, overwhelming in their intensity. Thankfully, it’s Ace and Deuce who bring you back to the present.

“Ace told me you’re doing that house-sitting gig for that guy again.”

“Oh, yeah! I am. Dog-sitting, too.” You stuff your phone away.

Best not to think about it.

“Didja catch those kids?”

Deuce looks between you and Ace, a brow raised. “What kids?”

“You totally missed it! I guess some kids were knocking on (Name)’s door all night long.”

“They’re still doing it. I think…”

“No way!”

“Sooner or later, it becomes less annoying and more like harassment.” Deuce cringes. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”

“No. Or… Well, I thought I heard some knocking this morning. But I was still asleep and the dog was barking.”

“This guy has cameras, doesn’t he?” Ace looks to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I have access to them.”

“Maybe that’ll drive whoever’s bothering you away. If they see the cameras, they’ll realize they’re being recorded and hopefully leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.”

“I offered to come over.”

“It’s not that serious.”

Ace and Deuce share a look of doubt.

“Really! It’s not, guys. All they’re doing is knocking on the door. Irritating as hell? Yes. But it’s all harmless. They’re outside. I’m inside. Plus, I’ve got Azul’s dog. She’s huge.”

“Just…keep yourself safe. Call one of us if you need to. We’ll come over,” Deuce says, poking around at the food on his plate.

“I will. Thank you. But let’s not worry about any of that. It’s your birthday! It’s supposed to be all about you.”

Somehow the unsettling atmosphere ebbs away, replaced with the joyous delusions of short-lived celebration.

You return to Azul’s house to find muddy pawprints on the floor. It takes you thirty minutes to scrub the floors clean, and for the entire time you’re racking your brain trying to understand how this happened. Was there mud in the backyard that you just weren’t aware of? Or did Pepper truly go outside when it was raining? Did you leave the door unlocked?

Surely Azul must have seen what happened on the cameras.

Something isn’t adding up. You spend your entire shower constructing the scene and its many possibilities, but none of them make a lick of sense.

It’s just you and Pepper, right?

As you toss and turn in bed, struggling to relax under a duvet that feels too itchy and hot, you think you hear someone knocking on the door.

Or maybe it’s the window. Maybe it’s right below you, tapping at the ceiling, pacing around in the kitchen, reaching to pet Pepper.

Maybe you’re just dreaming.

Azul calls you on the seventh day to check in. You consider telling him about the knocking, the dishes, that rainy day when Pepper tracked in mud, but you can’t seem to form the words without sounding utterly insane. So you smile and lie.

“No issues here. Pepper’s been wonderful.”

Azul hums, pleased. “Aah, I miss her something fierce. Oh, can you tell her I said that?”

You repeat his words to Pepper. “I dunno… I think she’s starting to like me more than you.”

“Well, isn’t that a problem? How else will she get her fix of you once you’re gone?”

“I’ll be back next time you need me.” And then you hesitate. “You…will need me again, right?”

“Of course. I always need you, (Name).”

There’s an awkward pause on his end. He clears his throat, but you don’t add anything to break the tension.

“Um, right. Yeah… Enjoy the rest of your business trip. I hope all is well with…that.”

“It is, yes. Thank you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.”

You end the call before he can say anything else. Pepper, who had been resting beside you on the sofa, tilts her head at you.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” you whisper, “but your owner is really bad at words sometimes.”

She leans in and licks your cheek.

Someone knocks on the door and lies in wait. You watch with bated breath, repeating the same phrase over and over: “Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”

Knock, knock.

She reaches for the knob.

“No… Come on. Don’t do it. It’s so clearly a trap!” You almost don’t want to watch. You know she’s as good as dead as soon as she opens the door, for the killer will descend and drag her back inside her own house.

Knock, knock.

She’s already opened the door. As expected, the killer pounces like the Grim Reaper and she shrieks like a banshee.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remote in hand, you lower the volume and focus on the silence that creeps in shortly after. You wait for a creak or another knock—a disturbance of some sort.

Slowly, you turn to glance at the door and then at the windows nearby with the curtains drawn. As quietly as you can manage, you set the remote down and slither off of the sofa. Pepper doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds, but you can tell she’s listening, her body tense.

No one’s out there. It’s nothing. 

You peel the curtains back ever so slightly and peek out at the darkness. There’s no one on the stoop. No one at the window. No one.

So then where was the knocking coming from? Was it really just the movie?

Or… No, certainly not. You refuse to entertain that thought.

But, if not the movie and not from outside, where else could the sound be coming from? Where else if not from within these very walls?

You shut the curtains and return to the sofa. Horror is swapped for a cheesy rom-com. You need the laughter and the cringe and every fluffy thing in between to calm the electricity in your nerves.

And it works. You fall asleep by the third rom-com, listening to cheesy one-liners and bad jokes with terribly written punchlines.

Knock, knock.

And then a noisy clatter.

You’re shaken from your slumber in a daze. You’re not sure what time it is or where you even are, and it takes a moment for clarity to filter in through the grogginess. You’re wrapped up in blankets on the bed in the guest room in Azul’s house and there’s someone standing at the foot of the bed, watching you in the gloom, and—

Wait.

How did you get to bed? Most importantly, what’s that blinking back at you? It can’t be Pepper. Pepper doesn’t have two-toned eyes. Pepper can’t stand on two legs. You squint through the shadows to pick out the shape of them, and your blood freezes when you realize it’s a person.  

A person. A person.

Someone’s inside the house and they’re looking right at you.

Do they know I’m awake? you think, your thoughts racing wildly. You lie there, rigid as a board and stiff as a corpse, and hope that they can’t tell. Calm down. Relax. Pepper will scare them off.

But then you notice she hasn’t barked a single time since you opened your eyes. Is she sleeping?

Terror pierces your heart. Did this person hurt her? Is she—

Don’t think about that.

Your eyes slide over towards the doorway, and you just about scream when you see another figure. The breath sticks in your throat. You know it’s another person because the way they lean so casually against the doorframe suggests a certain nonchalance with this situation. A nonchalance that can only belong to a person.

“Knock, knock. Aww. Did we wake you up?” It’s a man’s whispery drawl that combs through the room, raking through your scalp with sharp fingers, prodding at your ears like a hornet. “You looked so peaceful, too. Sorry about that.”

You’re not sure what you should do. Should you even try to run or escape when you’re already so cornered? Is there enough time to call for help? Will Pepper hear you if you shout? Should you play dead or feign sleep? What should you do?

What can you do?

You glance at the other figure. Unlike the other one, who sways and fidgets like he’s caught in a perpetual, invisible breeze, this person is perfectly, eerily still. Almost like a doll.

But then the man in the doorway laughs. “Layin’ it on thick there, ain’tcha? They’re already shakin’ like a leaf. No need to overdo it.”

A razored smile cuts through the gloom. Your eyesight adjusts enough to catch sight of a J-shaped strand of hair and the glint of an earring.

“No need to look so scared,” he continues, but you can’t pry your eyes from the other’s smile. It’s a smile of grotesque pleasure—one that feasts on fear so palpable it might as well be a three-course meal for him. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Then will you do something much worse? you want to ask, but all you can do is blink.

“Just gonna take you somewhere nice and cozy. Nothin’ scary about that. Ain’t that right, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd.” A voice as smooth and soft as melted caramel. Maybe it would’ve been soothing in a different situation. 

Before you can scream or lunge out of bed, arms are reaching out to restrain you. A hand slaps over your mouth. Fingers curl into your arms. A sickly sweet rag is stuffed against your nose.

Your feet kick against the wall, a steady knock-knock-knocking like a heartbeat, until your muscles still and the fight is drained from you. Unconsciousness blankets your body and mind within minutes.

There is nothing more unnerving than returning to an empty house, especially when it was once filled with human presence. No one knows anything, but they could’ve if there was evidence. Incriminating footage is no good.

Azul certainly thinks so while he dons his finest suit and practices a few expressions in the mirror. Pepper watches him from where she lays curled on his bed.

“A hero must look exceptional when he rescues his dearest one. Most of all, he must be innocent and trustworthy. Wouldn’t you say so, Pepper?”

At that, she can only offer a halfhearted whimper. He smiles.

“Let’s go visit my (Name).”

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

11 | what this is

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, heavy sexual tension, teasing, taunting, possessiveness, jealous men, drama, toxicity, alcohol, tw; spitting, dirty talk, dry humping, tw: mean cliffhanger (sorry not sorry lol), etc...

❧ Word Count | 6.1k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Whispering near your lips, Choso had taken a step even closer to you and placed his gloved hand upon the right side of your waist. 

Then he tugged you closer as if to emphasize his words, “Cat got your tongue, princess? Or, what, are you replaying our moments together?” You were. “Am I finally occupying your mind again?” Choso utters even lower than before as he takes your chin into his other hand and tips your head up—causing your lips to actually brush against his. “C’mon, talk to me, argue with me, say something-, anything.”

Your voice comes out airy and you hate the way he seems to have you all wrapped around his finger. “Y-You’re insufferable.” With tense brows and a body that unfortunately won’t move against his hold, you gape at him with this burning feeling on your skin at his every touch.

Choso smiles, “Was I insufferable while I was riiight…” The hand on your waist slides over to your stomach and his thumb presses just below your belly button, “Here? Hm?” He applies a bit more pressure there and you gasp. “Or, again, do you only ever think of me when Gojo denies you of sex?”

“No, Choso. It’s not like that,” You huff out, despite the flashbacks replaying in your mind and the tingle that just ran up your spine. “You just… Every conversation with you now revolves around one thing; sex. It’s all you ever bring up with me and I am tired of it, okay? I’ve told you no and yet you keep trying—“

“You keep letting me try,” He cuts off rudely, sliding his thumb up to your bottom lip. “Even right now, you’ve yet to smack my hands away or even tell me to stop touching you. I wonder why that is.”

Well, shit. You can’t even explain it yourself. Maybe it’s because deep down inside you know that you and Choso’s relationship has always been like this. You’ve always let him tease and taunt you to degrees that know no end. From the day you first met to now, you still can’t find it in you to pull yourself away from his touch.

You prove his point instantly with the way you let him slip his thumb in between your glossed lips, watching the way he smiles slightly at the sight. “I know you don’t have any feelings for me but,” Choso pressed his thumb down on your bottom row of teeth just a bit, allowing your lips to part open and for your breaths to mingle with one another. “Your body damn sure does.”

Ever so softly, you whine. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

“‘Course I did, baby. I get it, I bring the sex up all the time but can you really blame me?” Yes. “You ‘n I have almost gotten to that point how many times before it actually happened?” He asks rhetorically, “And then, the only reason it finally happened is because of this lil’ crush you have on Gojo?? Hah, why would I stop trying when I know you don’t want me to?”

The daggers you're shooting him via gaze seem not to phase him in the slightest. Maybe, just maybe, he had a point here. You hated the way he was reading through you right now, knowing you couldn’t really argue with him. No matter what you say, your body language will always be your truth. Even now as he allows his eyes to glide down to your lips that are practically on his, you can hardly even form a thought to tell yourself to pull away.

Tell him to stop. Tell him to go away. Tell him to let go of you and leave you the hell alone. That’s what you want, isn’t it?? 

…So why are you letting him slide his thumb out your mouth and gently force your lips into a pout? Why do you let him move both of his hands to your waist and hold you like he’s your boyfriend or something? And why, just why, do you let him press his lips against yours so faintly that it’s almost as though he didn’t just kiss you??

“You're not dating him,” Choso reminds you—which stings because you wish you were. Maybe then you’d find it in you to tell Choso to back off. “So like, if you simply don’t want me at all, jus’ say that.”

You can’t. Physically, mentally, whatever-the-fuck-lly, you cannot find it anywhere in yourself to tell Choso Kamo that you don’t want him in any way. Perhaps it was because of the crush you had on him years ago. Maybe those teenage feelings never really died off like you thought they did and now they’ve returned in the worst way possible. 

It sucks because you know in your head you don’t want to date Choso. You know you want to go be with Gojo. But there’s just this little void space in between all of that in which you’re conflicted. Call you Hannah Montana with the way you want the best of both worlds.

You want the affection you receive from both men simultaneously. 

But, at the same time, you don’t. At the same time, all you can do is replay Gojo’s smile in your head, his voice, his touches, his tenderness, and then it all just feels right. With Choso there’s just this constant battle you’re fighting where it feels so wrong but so damn good at the same time.

“I can’t,” You eventually mutter, finally turning your head off to the side. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Cho. I just… I told you before I’m—“

“Woahhhhh,” Another, terrifyingly familiar voice comes bursting into the kitchen. At the sound of it, your body is motionless and you’re lucky Choso swiftly slides his hands off of you to shove them into his pockets. “What’s goin’ on in heree?” Gojo’s slightly slurred tone hits your ear and your eyes are wafting away from Choso in search.

You end up tipping your body to the side to spot Gojo stumbling his way deeper into the kitchen. The button-up shirt he's got on beneath the vest he’s wearing is unbuttoned significantly lower than before and you note how his cheeks are reddened more. 

Choso looks back at the guy from over his shoulder, not making an effort to remove the distance between your body and his whatsoever. Your eyes rake over your crush's staggering frame and you quickly note that he’s drunk.

Or at least, you thought he was until his eyes were setting on you peeking around Choso’s body and how close you were to the guy. From Gojo’s angle of view, he could tell your body was practically pressed up against Choso’s. The two of you didn’t have any hands on one another by the time he gathered the sight but the proximity alone was enough to sober him up for a moment.

The lazy smile Gojo had on his face flickered slightly as he took long strides over to the two of you. His next actions are smooth. Gojo brushes past Choso but hooks an arm around your waist in the process, soon finding himself standing on your right side and pulling you up close to him. Choso lets his eyes trail Gojo and his possessive little movements, cocking an irritated grin at the sight.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Gojo asks Choso, sizing him up and down. Suddenly, there’s less of a slur to his words in comparison to moments before.

Choso has to clench his jaw a bit to bite back every snarky response that nearly rolled off of his tongue just now. Desperately does he want to tell Gojo about how this isn’t the first time he’s interrupted something intimate with you. Last time you and Choso were about to have sex again before he came knocking on the apartment door and now he had interrupted you in explaining your feelings to Choso.

So, to hold himself back, Choso scoffs in Gojo’s face and looks off to the side. “Nah man, you’re fine.” He replies dryly. The next thing that leaves his lips is a bit of an accident but he just can’t help himself, “Me ‘n her live together so I’m sure we can continue our talk later, right?” Choso asks with a glance at you.

You can feel Gojo’s fingers gripping onto your waist a little tighter as if to silently tell you something. Whatever it is though, you’re unsure of. “Right,” You murmur softly.

Gojo’s brows rise in interest. “You two were pretty close to each other just now for a convo that’s bein’ saved for later…” He points out.

“We’ve been closer,” Choso regrettably snaps back. Fuck, you even see the recoil on his face as his eyes squeeze shut for a second, clearly regretting the words that just left him.

Drunk or not, the gears in Gojo’s head begin to grind. He’s not stupid, far from it, so he can infer the implications behind such a statement. Lucky for you, the alcohol in his system does interfere with him jumping to the right assumptions. “Yeah? I’m sure you guys have,” Gojo says, looking down at you, “You two have been friends for uh,” He clicks his tongue, “Eight years, no?”

“Just about,” Choso replies for you, both of their eyes set on you.

You gulp and try to play off how nervous you are with a slight chuckle. Then you turn more into Gojo and distract him with a hug. Placing your chin on his chest, you angle your head up to look at him, “What’re you doin’ in here anyways? I thought you went to go sit down?”

Just the sight of you hugging Gojo and staring up at him is enough to piss Choso off albeit clearly unintentional.

Gojo, who oddly adores Choso's audience at the moment, places his hands on your sides, exactly where Choso’s touch was just a few seconds before he came into the kitchen. “I did but then Suguru found me and wanted me to take some shots with him. Right after that, I started missin’ you sooo, I came to find ya’.” He explains with this doting look in his eyes.

You smile, “Aw, you really do get clingy when drunk, huh?”

“I tried to warn you,” Gojo snickers softly before leaning down.

He was moving to kiss you. You don’t know why but you panic. 

Choso’s still standing there quietly waiting for you two to remember his presence, watching the whole thing and… seeing things you don’t.

Now, if you pulled away from Gojo, he would have known something was up so, you don’t. Because of that and the way your eyes shut to allow him to kiss you, you miss the way Gojo keeps his eyes open just to glare at Choso while his lips slot onto yours.

Choso meets said glare and his heart aches in his chest. Every thought of his is screaming to blurt out the fact that he’s done exactly what Gojo’s doing now, years before Gojo even knew who you were. Choso wants to throw it in Gojo’s face how he’s seen the expressions you make when you’re making the filthiest lil’ mess around his cock. He wants to explain how Gojo’s likely temporary for you and how you’ll always end up coming right back into his arms the moment the guy fucks up.

To make matters worse, Gojo smiles against your lips. While your best friend didn’t exactly say anything, his face was doing all the talking right now. Which was enough to lead Gojo into bringing a hand down to your ass and squeezing before he finally shuts his eyes and kisses you properly.

You hum at the sudden push of his lips against you and then jump against his hold the moment his hand smacks your ass. “Satoru,” You utter between his kisses, earning a low grunt from his throat before his lips detach from yours.

Gojo takes one long look at your face, feeling Choso’s eyes still on him, and then he smirks. His free hand moves to your lips, exactly like how your best friend did, and spreads your lips apart. “Hold on, stick out your tongue f’me,” Gojo instructs. You’re confused but, you do it anyway.

Gojo huffs a small scoff through his nose, glances at Choso one more time, and then looks at you. “You came in here for somethin’ to drink right?” He’s not about to do what you think he is, is he? “Lemme give you a taste of what I’ve been sippin’ on, yeah?”

You’re not sure what’s worse. The way your tongue rolls out a bit further in anticipation, the fact that Choso’s watching this, or the fact that Gojo actually lets a filthy glob of spit waft down onto your tongue… And then to top it all off, you swallow it down with no hesitation.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Gojo whispers, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time you pull back and turn your head, “Enough Satoru. Choso’s standing right—“

“Nah, pretend I’m not even here, honestly,” Choso comments finally, his hands balled into fists within the confines of his pockets. “That’s what you’ve been doin’ all night anyway,” He mutters beneath his breath whilst his feet swivel against the ground. “I’ll just uh, go ahead ‘nd see my way out.” Is the last thing said before you turn your head back and see him snatching up his drink from the counter.

“Wait,” You huff, breaking away from Gojo’s touches entirely. You hurry over to Choso and whisper, “We’ll talk more tonight, okay? I promise.”

Choso’s gaze flickers in sincerity at your words. “You promise?” He whispers back.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Alright.” He says to you before doing one last thing as if to get back at Gojo’s recent display of affection. Choso takes hold of one of your hands and carefully yanks your body toward him. He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you—appearing as though he were embracing you just to say bye. 

But, because of a certain pair of blue eyes watching his every move, Choso smirks and moves his lips to press against your ear with a soft-spoken voice. “I’ll see you later tonight then.” He tells you.

After which, Choso looks at something (more like someone) behind you and then smiles fully. Whatever he was just trying to accomplish has certainly worked. And with that, he pulls away from you and leaves the kitchen with a slight wave of his hand.

You found that… weird. Why did he hug you and whisper in your ear like that all of a sudden? It’s not like he said anything incriminating. You shrug Choso’s oddness off and turn back around.

Coming face first with the man, Gojo’s now standing a lot closer than where you’d left him. For the nth time of the day, you flinch out of surprise. “Satoru, shit. I thought you were—“

“You done?” Gojo breathes out all of a sudden.

Your brows pinch up and you hum. “What? Done with what?”

“This party,” He clarifies, his expression unreadable. “I’m ready to go.”

“We’ve only been here for like thirty minutes,” You tell him with a weary smile on your face. “What’s wrong?”

Gojo stares at you as if you should be able to read his mind or something but, the truth is, his expression tells you nothing. He looks like he’s pissed off? But, he also looks like he’s fine? You’re unsure of what to make of his face right now.

“I just,” He pauses, clearly deciding his words carefully before he sighs. “I wanna be alone with you for a sec'.”

You glance around the kitchen, “We’re alone right now?”

Gojo shakes his head, “I mean, somewhere more private.”

“Ah,” You nod. “Do you wanna go find a room?”

“There’s a couple fucking in almost every one,” He tells you, cringing at the flashback. “I stumbled into a few while lookin’ for the bathroom. But uhm, what about my car?”

“That seems private enough... Are you sure everything’s okay?” You ask with a concerned tilt of your head.

Gojo’s eyes look almost tired, the emotion in them unrecognizable to you. With another sigh, he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I… I don’t know, jus’ want you to myself for a second, alright?” There’s this sudden attitude that pops off in his words and it makes your heart twinge funnily. Then he’s stepping past you and walking away as if he wants you to follow him.

You’re wildly confused but, you do anyway.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

The walk to Gojo’s car is almost awkward for you. With no idea what’s gotten into him so suddenly, he just seems grumpy the whole way there. Even as Shoko bumps into you two on the way out, dressed as a doctor, she doesn’t even get a cheerful response from him like normal.

There are some other now familiar faces you pass but every time you stop to wave or to see what they're trying to say to you, Gojo ends up grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

By the time you reach his car, he has the two of you shuffling into the back seat instead of the front for reasons you’re unsure of.

Again, it’s awkward as a moment of silence passed with just you and him sitting inside. The distant sounds of the party can still be heard but it’s weird for you to be out here with Gojo instead of in there partying when he’s the one who invited you out to this whole thing. Why was he acting like this—

Gojo says your name suddenly and your head turns to him. He’s already looking at you but what surprises you is how he leans closer. “Can I kiss you?” He requests, throwing you all the way off.

Did he… Did he really just pull you out of the party just to kiss you in private?? Had you misinterpreted his past few public kisses and touches for something else? What the hell is going on? Why did he—

“Please,” Gojo’s face is now right in front of yours and his lips are hardly an inch away. “Jus’ one,” When is it ever just one with this man… and why does that questioning thought give you this sense of deja vu?

Despite the raging questions and confusion swirling in your head, you nod.

Gojo presses his lips to yours and you feel weird for a second. Maybe it was the lack of understanding that really turned you off or maybe it was the alcohol resting on his lips that you hadn’t noticed earlier but either way, you feel odd.

He pulls away when he notices you’re not kissing back like normal and his eyes soften, “What’s wrong?” Gojo asks.

You fold your arms, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I mean, yeah but—“

“No, Satoru. No buts, what the hell is wrong with you?” You snap all of a sudden. Half of you doesn’t even know where this sudden irritation is coming from. “You do all of that weird shit in front of Choso and then drag me out the party just to kiss me? I don’t understand. Why show off whatever it is we have in front of Choso but not anyone else? A-Are you trying to keep us as some sort of secret..?”

Gojo mistakenly scoffs at your words. Right in front of your face too. “What?” He breathes. “What ‘weird shit’ did I do in front of him? And what do you mean ‘keep us as some sorta’ secret’? We’re not together.”

That stung. Again. Just like when Choso reminded you earlier except it hurt significantly worse coming from Gojo himself.

“I-I’m talking about the touching, the kissing, the…” You hate it but there’s a shake in your voice now. Stuttered over a few words and your emotions conflicting inside you. “T-The spitting into my mouth. I obviously don’t mind it but it’s confusing when you do that and then drag me all the way out here because you don’t want anyone else seeing us do those things.”

He shifts, sliding back into his seat and weighing his head to the side. Gojo’s eyes narrow, “Who said I didn’t want anyone else seeing us do those things?”

“Your actions did,” You explain, just barely keeping your gaze on him.

He smirks but you can tell he’s frustrated. “You think I brought you out here to hide the stuff we do together??”

“That’s what it seems and feels like, yes—“

“No, I brought you out here because I needed a moment to just be with you,” Gojo interrupts, rolling his eyes away from you and slumping back against the seat. “Alone. I was irritated about something and being alone with you always calms me down.”

You slide a bit closer to him and lean your head to the side a bit to gain the eye contact back, “Irritated about what?”

He’s quiet for a while. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you—just lets his aggravation fester inside him. At some point, his leg starts bobbing up and down and he glances to his left to look out the window. 

Gojo’s met with the view of the neighboring house to the one the party’s taking place at. There’s no one over there at the moment, the lights are all off, and the entire vibe is different from the house just across the street. It’s a nice contrast to the chaos elsewhere.

It’s slow but, Gojo finally responds to you in monotone, “Seein’ Choso’s grimy hands all over your fuckin’ body.”

You had a feeling that's what it was but, you could never be too sure.

“So…” You scoff, “You got jealous.”

Gojo’s face twists up and he swivels his head to look at you, flinching slightly at how close you’ve gotten to him. “The fuck? Jealous? Me?” He spits out to you, trying to play off his initial surprise at seeing the lessened space between you two.

“Yeah you, who the hell else?” You bite back, sizing him up and down and scrunching your face up.

Gojo almost finds the mirrored expression cute. “I wasn’t jealous.” He tells you.

“So why did it bother you that he touched me the way he did?” Your question makes him swallow thickly but you don’t stop there, “Especially if uh, ‘we’re not together’?”

You don’t know it but those words burn him in the same way they burned you. It’s an irritating reminder because he has no business feeling the way he does considering that.

Gojo’s upper lip twitches a bit, “Cause I just didn’t like it.” 

“That’s called jealousy.”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ jealous!” He huffs.

To which you smile. Then you’re moving over some more and he’s following every shift of your body until you throw a leg over his and straddle him. Gojo’s looking up at you now but the tension in both the car and your faces has yet to fade. 

Although, there is this sudden softness to your tone that makes him gulp again. “There’s nothing wrong with it, y’know. It’s okay to be jealous.” As you explain, your hands go to his shoulders and you hear him sigh.

“Is it?” Gojo questions in an equally softened tone.

“Yeah,” You hum, “It would help me understand you if you admit that’s what this whole thing is about.”

He shakes his head, his hands sliding up to relax on your thighs. “No, because when I get jealous over stuff, I think about doing stupid shit.”

With your brows shooting up in a mix of curiosity and concern, “Like what?” You ask him.

“Like fuckin’ you in front of Choso,” Gojo replies almost immediately. 

You blink. “So, you’re admitting it?”

His eyelids lowered, “That I was jealous?”

The tension in the car has… shifted.

“Yeah,” You utter gently, not yet sitting on top of him but just barely hovering over him.

“I guess so, I dunno.” Gojo huffs. His hands travel up to your hips and he squeezes, “I just… Maybe it’s the alcohol but I can’t fuckin’ think straight.”

You frown and lean forward, looping your arms around his neck, “So talk to me then.”

“I can’t. My head’s all over the place,” He admits to you. Truth be told, Gojo doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling right now. This is.. unusual for him. “Part of me wants to ignore whatever the fuck I’m feelin’ and just go back inside with you and the other part of me wants to…”

You tilt your head, a small act he finds so intoxicatingly attractive at the moment. “Wants to what?” You inquire.

“Fuck you to prove a point I don’t have to,” He admits begrudgingly.

His admission only makes you chuckle. You can’t say you woke up expecting to encounter a jealous Gojo today but, here you are straddling him. You’re not seated on top of him fully just yet, it’s more like your thighs are resting over his but there’s this small sliver of space between your crotch and his.

The heated tension from earlier has shifted into a very apparent sexual tension. You can feel it in his touch as he slips his fingertips upward to hold your exposed waist before sliding them back down to your hips.

Technically speaking, Gojo’s been itching to get like this with you since the two of you were dancing earlier. That’s part of why he came to the kitchen to look for you. He has no trouble controlling himself but drinking never really helps him balance his hormones properly. That, and he didn’t want both of you to be drunk the first time you have sex.

And yes, that does say that he intended to have sex with you today. Not that he planned it from the day prior or anything like that but, sometime throughout that party, Gojo told himself he’d rather die than go home without having you in some way shape, or form.

He’d never force you into anything, of course. But, you let him give you head before so, surely you’d let him do that again?

Though, that’s not what he wants now. Not when you’re seated on top of him, not when your skin is reacting to every slip of his fingers, and certainly not when he wants to fuck every thought of Choso out of that pretty lil’ head of yours.

“What kinda point are you trying to prove?” You soon ask with a breathy laugh leaving your supple lips that Gojo keeps glancing at.

He shrugs, “Told you I can’t think straight so, I don’t even know.” Oh but he does know. He wants to prove that the relationship he has with you currently trumps whatever the fuck you and Choso have. Who cares if you and that dickhead have been friends for eight years? The way you’re looking at Gojo right now alone outweighs that tenfold. Right?

Maybe he’s just in his head too much right now—unsure how to juggle this feeling in his chest. So, Gojo just tugs your upper half closer, causing your tits to press against his chest before he buries his face into your neck. The tip of his nose runs against your skin and he inhales, his breath hitching midway through due to the smell of another guy on you.

Annoyed, Gojo quickly presses wet kisses into your neck and you jump in surprise.

“S-Satoru,” You stammer, finding the sudden kissing ticklish and trying not to laugh. “Hey, woah, what are you d-doing,” You snort and a smile spreads across your face, “That tickles-, hey.”

He pauses himself just below your jawline, having heard the sudden breathiness of your tone. “You smell like him too,” Gojo tells you before latching his lips onto the area he’d previously stopped at, suckling your skin into his mouth. Your head tips back like it’s natural for you to do so and he grins into your skin. “I hate it.”

Chuckling again, “Just come out ‘n say you're jealous already—“

“I’m jealous,” Gojo states hotly into your neck. Angling himself downwards, he licks you, “Soo fuckin’ jealous, sweetheart.”

You hate the way his words make you feel so stupidly happy. Gojo Satoru, jealous because of you? Oh you’re in heaven right now considering your feelings for him. “Satoru.” You end up gasping as he nips you.

“More of that,” He breathes.

You sigh and a faint whine exits your throat, “M-More of what?”

Gojo’s sucking and tugging at your neck with his lips, leaving mark after mark on you as if they’re rightfully supposed to be there. “My name on your tongue.” He soon hums lowly, having moved to the center of your throat.

Just as he says that his hands force you to sit on him fully. The sudden contact of his hard cock pressing up against your clothed cunt makes you gasp louder than before, “Oh fuck…” You murmur, surprised you can even feel how painfully erect he is through all the thick layers of leather and the fabric of his pants. “‘Toru,” Whining now, he can only smile.

He’s trying so hard not to grind himself up against you but the sounds you’re letting out really aren't making things any easier for him. “Mh? Feel that?” He asks with a tip of his head and a messy slide of his lips over your neck.

“Mhm,” You hum sexually, testing the waters a bit with a small roll of your hips forward.

Gojo pries away from your throat with a wet pop, admiring his work for a second. Then, he flicks his eyes up to your awfully needy face, “You want it or what?”

“Here?” You squeak in surprise, “I-In your car?”

Gojo pulls back a bit and smiles knowingly, “Would you rather us do it outside and against the car..?”

God, you hate how much of a tease he is. “No! I just…” Even the way your lashes bat ever so softly has Gojo’s cock twitching. “What if someone sees—“

“Girl,” He scoffs sassily, rolling his eyes at you for the nth time. “I have tint on my windows, the hell do you take me for? Hm?” He asks, expecting no sort of answer as his hands tighten on your hips and he looks down. “Pluuus, look at you. Your body wants it.”

You’ve been almost unconsciously grinding against him ever since he pressed you down against himself. His eyes watch in a daze as you skillfully rock yourself back and forth and back and forth over his throbbing cock. He’s so turned on that it’s starting to hurt not being inside you right now.

Then your voice hits his ears in that softer aroused tone he recognizes and fuck is his tip leaking in pre against his boxers. “How long have you been hard?” You ask.

He doesn’t need even a second to think about it, “I told you I was earlier.”

“I didn’t think you were serious!” You puff out.

Gojo runs his hands up along your body, his touch smoother than ever as he leans back some more, glides his hands up to your waist, and spreads his legs a bit further. “Doesn’t take much for you to turn me on, pretty girl.” He comments, voice growing raspier.

Just that simple statement makes you so insanely wet. He was very specific with his words just now. It doesn’t take much for you to turn him on. Your hormones are starting to make you dizzy at this point and all you can do is bite back a moan, “Shut up—“

“Ride me,” Gojo commands abruptly.

“H-Huh?” You gape, hips jerking against him.

He smirks, “I didn’t stutter. Ride me, baby.” Gojo repeats casually. Then he tips his head back and the angle of his annoyingly attractive features just does it for you. Especially as the next set of lewd words come rolling off his tongue, “Put that pretty pussy on me, c’mon.”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “How did we even get here…” Are you seriously trying to backtrack this conversation? Yes. You two were bickering just a few moments ago… “Weren’t we arguing?”

He shrugs, “We can continue that while my cock’s inside you if you want.”

“Satoru.” You say sternly.

“If you don’t want to, just say that.”

“But…”

A beat of silence passes, the air only consisting of the messy friction occurring between your crotch and his. That, and your syncing breathing as the two of you stare intimately into each other's eyes. All you can do is replay the time he was in between your legs and…

“…You want it, don’t you?” Gojo points out.

Suddenly too shy to speak, you carefully nod your head with a soft hum of agreement.

Gojo bites his lower lip and then scoffs eagerly. “So take it,” He tells you, slumping back against his seat again and rolling his hips up against you. “It’s allll yours. Every fuckin’ inch.”

With a frustrated little puff of air leaving your lips, you lean forward and connect your mouth with his—both of you groaning into one another. Searing against him, your hands start moving to undress him. “You’re annoying, y’know that?” You huff into his mouth.

Gojo only chuckles and his hands are working your clothes off just as well as you are for him. “Yet you still got on top of me, right?” He teases, kissing you back messily as you snag his shirt off and fling it elsewhere. “Still wanna fuck me,” Gojo snickers.

Your hands move down to the thick buckle of his pants and he’s pulling the knot of your top loose. “Yeah, to get you to shut up for a second.”

“Oh really?” His smirk widens, “Sure it’s not so I can prove that point of mine?” As he asks that, you’re tugging his belt off and tossing it while he’s taking his hands off of you for a second just to watch you undress him.

You have to hover over him again as you continue this semi-heated conversation with him. Whether or not the discussion is heated with sexual tension or aggravated tension, you’re unsure. “You never told me what that point was so, no.” You quip.

Gojo feels his breath catch in his throat when your fingers begin working his pants off. “Wanna prove I’m better.” He tells you hoarsely.

Once his slacks are tugged down his thighs, he’s helping you by kicking them off. Now he’s only clad in his boxers—how strange considering you’re still dressed. Kinda reminds him of the last time you two did something sexual except the roles were reversed. “Who’s to say you haven’t already?” You soon ask him as you lean back and begin to work your shorts off.

Gojo’s hands move like magnets with the way they find your hips again, assisting you in removing those teasing shorts of yours, “The way he looks at you.”

“I don’t understand,” You’re shuffling your legs around, working clothes off within the space of his car, and yet the conversation is still carried out seamlessly.

“He looks at you the same way I do but…” Gojo unintentionally flings your shorts elsewhere the very second they’re off of you and then he quickly maneuvers you back on top of him. “More fuckin’ smug. Can’t stand it.”

Teasingly, you chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Oh don’t tease me about this shit, I’m not joking,” He argues, taking a second to stare at the sexy black fabric of your panties. Gojo thinks he drools for a second but you can’t tell with the way the rest of his sentence comes flying out, “It pisses me the fuck off.”

“So, what,” You scoff. “Are you gonna take it out on me then?” Your voice leaves in a seductive whisper that prompts the man to look up at you, feeling your arms wrap around his neck again.

“Nahh, ‘course not,” Gojo whispers back.

Your brows meet, “Then what—“

“I’m gonna fuck it into you.” He cuts off, feeling you plop yourself back onto him fully. Both of you moan in unison given the two flimsy layers of fabric in between you.

“F-Fuck what into me?” You ask confusedly. Your eyes soften and Gojo’s fighting every cell in his body not to flip you over, pin you down, and fuck you til’ his balls run dry.

He’s losing it, truly.

“A kid if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” He says playfully.

Your eyes go all wide but your cunt throbs at the idea (?), “Satoru!”

“I’m joking,” He laughs. “But my name will be the only thing this pussy remembers in a few minutes…”

And that’s… Well, that’s not far off from the truth whatsoever.

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[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 13: The Missing (+18 Smut MDNI)

I made this picture on psd lol lemme know if you liked it :)

“Amor gignit amorem.”

Love begets love.

Blood. All you could see was blood. It was all over the place. The mountains, the trees, the rocks, even the waterfall cascading ahead – everything was bathed in a crimson hue, covered in blood. The smell of blood filled the air as if it had obliterated all other odors. You tried to run away from this ominous place, but you realized that your feet were stuck in red mud like a swamp. The more you moved, the deeper you sank. You screamed for help, but no one heard, no one came. When you were up to your neck in the mud, you gasped for breath and screamed for the last time before the red mud swallowed you.

“Aurelia?”

The voice you knew so well echoed in your ears and then around you. The voice made mud disperse, allowing you to resume breathing.

"Aurelia?" He called out again, and you opened your eyes.

Marcus's face, beautiful in its own way, was right before you. Once you realized that he was looking at you with his brown eyes, the effect of the nightmare you had seen turned to dust and scattered around and disappeared. Marcus pressed his fingers on your forehead. Were you sweating?

“My love? Are you alright?”

“I am. I think I had a nightmare.”

“I think so too.” He sounded a bit concerned. "Would you like to tell me?"

You shook your head, looking away. Marcus exhaled deeply. "Aurelia, my love, I want you to forget the story I shared about the first man I killed. It's not the same as what you did. You were simply protecting yourself. You didn't have a choice and you did the right thing. However, the man I killed, he was innocent. I was following orders, but that's no excuse. You do understand what I'm saying, do you not?”

He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at your face, cupping your chin and turning your face to his. He was dressed in a cream tunic, the moonlight filtering gently through the window behind him and falling on his shoulders and hair.

“I understand and I appreciate that, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed someone."

He took your hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the top of it. “I'm glad you did it. You saved me and you. Or should I say all three of us?” He put his hand on your belly.

You smiled; it was a relief to hear him saying that.

You were momentarily taken aback to realize you were still in your room in Domus Severiana. When did you arrive? Did you sleep until nightfall? Your memory was hazy. The last thing you remember is killing someone and becoming a murderer.

"What are you thinking about now?" he asked, looking at you. His hair was bathed in the blue moonlight, however you were focused on the cut on his cheek.

“Why are we here?”

"You mean, you don't remember?"

You shook your head.

"Hmm, after... Well, we arrived here. You were a bit tired and looked like you needed a bath, we both were." He smirked.

Right, you both looked pretty clean compared to what you recalled from the last time. That's when you suddenly remembered how he'd undressed you and put you in the bath tube, how he cleaned you up until your body was free of blood and dirt. Then how he carefully dried you, carried you to your room and put you to bed. And how he stayed with you until you fell asleep. But that was it – you didn't remember anything else. So he probably had his own bath afterward. You felt annoyed with yourself for not being able to help him with his bathing and dressing.

“I remember now,” you murmured.

“Are you sure you are alright?” His hand stroked your belly. He was asking about both of you.

You put your hand on his and smiled. “Your son must be as much of a fighter as you are. He's still holding on tight.”

He smiled and kissed you on the belly. “For a moment, I thought I'd lost you two. It was far worse than any kind of torture.”

You put your arms around his neck. "You saved me, you came back to me, and I'm truly grateful for that."

"You saved me too, don't forget that princess. I'm proud of you for using your knife effectually."

You tensed up a little as you remembered that moment. Marcus noticed it straight away and kissed your temple. "There's no need to feel guilty about that. I know it won't be easy, but I'm confident you'll get through this. Do you wish me to tell you how I know?"

You nodded.

"Because you're my Aurelia. You're strong enough to overcome anything, yet you're tender enough to think of everyone you care about."

He pressed his lips to yours. You realised how much you missed his kiss, his voice, his smell, his touch, his sweet words, everything. When he pulled back, you felt your heart ached.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? You must be feeling tired." He covered you with the sheet, turned towards you and cuddled up to you, putting his arm around you. You turned your head and noticed that his eyes were closed. You pursed your lips. You weren't tired, you just needed him. However, he must have been quite tired, so you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. But it didn't work. Your body was already burning up. The sweet masculine smell of his skin made things even more difficult. You felt your throat go dry. So you turned towards him. But this caused your breasts to brush against his arm. He opened his eyes and pulled his arm back. You felt your face flush, and you turned the other way. You smiled to yourself, pleased that you'd managed to seduce him without meaning to.

“Aurelia, that's worse.” He whispered.

You soon figured out what he was talking about. You could feel him growing just behind your hips.

"Apologies." You murmured. You moved yourself on the bed a little, trying to break the physical connection between you. But his strong arm grabbed you and pulled you towards him almost roughly. Your back hits his chest. You could hear him breathing heavily, his hot breath hitting your cheek. You giggled mischievously.

"You only had to ask," he said huskily. You gasped as you felt his lips on your neck.

"I thought you wouldn't want to, seeing as you're tired.”

He turned you towards him, in a fairly forceful manner, “Do you really think that's possible my lady?” He shook his head slightly. “I don't think so.” His lips almost touching yours, you've been craving a kiss from him. “Not when I've been thinking about you all the time, not when I've been looking forward to this moment badly.” And then finally he kissed you passionately. Gods! You’d really missed his kiss. It wasn't just him who'd been looking forward to this moment.

His hands, eager as usual, grabbed the end of your tunic and slid it up your legs, helping you out of it. You smiled when you felt his hands on your exposed skin. You bit your lower lip as his lips replaced his hands. You were getting impatient; your body was burning, as if on fire, and your breathing had turned into hot steam. As he planted kisses on your knees before spreading them, you resisted him, trying to make it fun.

He snickered. "Why are you hiding from me what is already mine? Wish to play?" He lifted your legs against your stomach with his strong hands. You were taken by surprise and felt out of breath. He ran his fingers and then his lips over it, from heel to thigh, as if memorizing it, first one leg and then the other. He was careful not to leave any part of your skin untouched, but he did it so slowly that you were sure you were dripping wet by now. It might have been romantic or seductive at first, but it was getting to be too much and your patience was running out. It was good when he was gentle, but it was better when he was rough. He must have heard your inner voice, grabbed you by the legs, pulling you hard against him. You held your breath as he lifted your legs, placed them on his shoulders, and buried his head between them. Fortunately, he was no longer gentle when he used his tongue to enter you and give you unbelievable pleasure. You clenched the sheet as he licked and sucked your most sensitive spot mercilessly like a starving man. He continued his pattern, teased you until you thought you might go mad, breaking it occasionally to suck at your sweet spot or nibble at the folds of you. Meanwhile, he ventured his tongue within you, each time probing a little deeper, until finally he slid as much of it into you as he could and you could not help but cry out at the feeling of it swirling inside of you. Soon, the moans he’s coaxing out of you are only got louder and louder and you lifted your hips up to meet his mouth, your toes curling. Marcus squeezed your hips and increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue, and lips, taking you to the very top of the sky as your loud moans filled every cavity of the large room. Your vision was blurred, your heart racing.

It’s at this moment that he pulled back completely, leaving only the warm air touching you, and you let out a mortifying groan which turned into mewling. Marcus laughed at you and you opened your eyes to see his mouth and chin are covered with your wetness. He kissed you deeply, pushing what he could of it between your lips with his tongue. "You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," he whispered into your mouth. "A splendid dessert just for me to taste." You licked his bottom lip, tasting yourself, realizing that he was right. He kissed you again and this time with more passion quickly turning into a feverish lust.

You reached out to touch his tunic, but his consuming kiss was so intense that you failed. He smiled, his warm breath touching your cheek. Then he smirked, spread his arms wide and told you to undress him without speaking. Giggling, you got up on your knees and did as he said, running your hands over his shoulders after throwing his tunic gods-know-where. You frowned as you noticed the new scars on his body, he watched you patiently as your fingers travelled over each one. He put a finger in your temple, then over your eyebrows as if to smooth out your frown and slid it through your hair, running it through it as if combing it.

"You're the only one who can heal,” he murmured. Then he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him. He held you tight, making sure there was no gap between you. You smiled as you realised he was getting impatient between your inner thighs. His glorious length was caressing your entrance and your body already squirming to be his. Thinking he was going to lay you back down, instead, he grabbed your hips and fell backward, pulling you on top of him. Now you were sitting on him, you looked down at him in surprise, and he grinned.

He licked his lips. “Ride me.”

Biting your lower lip with excitement, you placed your hands on his chest, rotated your hips and settled on top of him, slowly taking his length into you. He gripped your hips and guided you into the right position. When you felt him deep inside you let out a moan of pleasure and leaned into him. Your hair was falling in his face, and you teased him with it by shaking your head covering his face completely with your hair. He smirked and gathered your hair and put it over one shoulder as you rode him in slow movements. Then he started to speed up his thrusts by moving his groin. You were completely like impaled on him and it felt like absolute bliss and you never wanted this feeling to end. You leaned in to kiss him feeling the overwhelming pleasure was pushing you dangerously close to the edge. He was grasping and kneading your breasts in a strong and possessive way with both of his big hands as he kissed you passionately and rubbed his thumbs over your nipples. He grabbed your hips in a bruising grip and squeezes as he thrusts into you so hard and powerfully that you scream out loud in shock, like he's some kind of beast and he's almost making you beg desperately for more. He moaned and growled through clenched teeth as he marked you and claimed you and made you his. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt like it was going to burst. You pressed your lips together to suppress your upcoming scream but failed. Everyone in the palace would hear your moans and know what you were doing, but it didn't matter right now.

Marcus hit your sweet spot with each glorious thrust and soon you began to feel your soul leaving your body and your surroundings became hazy and blurry and white lights began to appear, you cried out as the most intense emotion erupted from every nerve in your body and you felt you were flying, weightless and free, the feeling of pure pleasure racing through every part of you. His moans and grunts became muffled as the pleasure overtook you. He pulled you hard against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around you and you felt him fill you up with his hot liquid, his thrusts stuttering. You were resting your head on his chest while he buried his face in your hair. You stayed like that for a while until your breathing calmed down. Marcus loosened his grip around your body and you felt his lips on the top of your head as his hands travelled slowly down your back. You could hear the sound of his heart thudding against his chest, it soon settled and you felt him soften inside you. He grabbed you round the waist and slid you onto the bed and you snuggled into him. He lifted the sheet and covered both of you, wrapping one arm around you and thus ensuring your usual ritual of falling asleep peacefully.

The morning sun was filtering through your eyelashes, casting a yellow light over your face as you blinked sleepily. Opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was Marcus' beard, his chin, and his lips. Those wonderful lips you couldn't get enough of kissing. His eyes were still closed, his sweet breath caressing your forehead as you watched him sleeping. He was so incredible, so beautiful. You felt a little upset when you saw the new scar on his cheek though, but it wouldn't prevent the perfection of his face. It made you love him even more. It was impossible to describe how much you love him, but "eternity" was probably the closest description.

Just yesterday you hated this big room, but now that he was lying next to you, in your bed, the room didn't seem so bad to you anymore. With his presence, the room had become a safer, more beautiful, and more significant place. After a few moments, you found yourself drawn to his face once more and felt the urge to kiss him. You softly pressed your lips to his. You then pulled back and saw his lips curled into a smile, opening his eyes. His brown eyes were as dark and expressive at night as they were buttery and warm in the morning. They were enough to blow your mind every time.

"Morning," you said softly.

"What a lovely morning this is," he said with a smile, running his hand through your hair.

"It certainly is," you smiled back.

He leaned over and kissed you. His kiss was gentle and passionate. But you were ready for him to kiss you deeper. He slowed his kiss but you tightened your arm around his neck. He laughed between his lips and pulled back, you frowned. He laughed even more at your reaction.

“My lady, I love it when you're eager, but don't you think you should get a little more rest?”

You blushed, batting your eyelashes. "I've really missed you."

“Same here,” he said, placing his hand on your belly and stroking it softly. "Is it alright for the child if we make love this often?"

"He's fine, I'd know if there was anything wrong." You replied. You then grasped his hand, placing it on your thigh. "I need you, Marcus, please."

He smirked. "I think I've raised my wife to be as lustful as I am." He chuckled.

You giggled naughtily. He kissed you roughly this time. Your heart began to beat with excitement. He squeezed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. Since you were already naked, the process didn't take long and he quickly lifted the sheet covering your body and settled on top of you. You had already spread your legs for him. His lips moved to your neck, collarbone and sternum, sucking and licking as he made his way down your body. As you ran your fingers through his hair, you felt him get harder at your entrance. He grabbed your hips again with one hand and entered you easily giving you incredible pleasure. His other hand travelled over every possible part of your flesh. You held your breath as he ran his hot tongue over your breasts. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you, and he let out a loud moan.

"So needy," he said, his voice low and husky, his breath hot on your nipples. He kept nibbling on your breasts, sucking them with a growing appetite. As you began to feel like you were almost losing your mind, his lips met yours again and turned into a hungry, thirsty kiss. His thrusts fastened and you let out little moans of sweet pleasure as you dug your fingers into his flesh. He broke the kiss to push a few strands of hair away from your face. His intense gaze held yours captive while making you his. Soon he wrapped his hands around you and buried his head into your collarbone. His thrusts deepened, and he increased the pace at an incredible speed. Your back instinctively arched, but his grip was so tight that it was impossible to move. Your loud moans filled the room, and the satisfying sound of your bodies slapping together echoed in.

You screamed his name over and over, he let out a great roar and reached his climax at the same time as you. His lips sucked and nibbled your chin as he slowing his thrusts. You closed your eyes tight, bit your lip hard, curled your toes as you savoured the last moments of the amazing pleasure you were feeling. He released his grip on you and kissed the areas of your skin that had become reddened with great tenderness. You were still breathing heavily and had your eyes closed. Marcus placed his hand between your breasts and was surprised to feel your heart beating fast under his palm.

“My love, are you alright?”

You inhaled slowly and deeply through your nose and then exhaled. “My breathing... has become... much quicker now... It takes me a bit longer to settle.” You panted.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and pulled out of you, wrapping his arms around you to embrace you close to his chest.

"I should have been more gentle with you," he said, running his fingers through your hair. "I couldn't control myself. Forgive me."

Your throat felt a little dry, so you took a moment to wet it and swallow. "There's nothing to forgive, my love, you are wonderful."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

Suddenly there was the sound of drums, which startled you. Marcus sighed. It would seem that this was an announcement of Caracalla's passing and details of the funeral arrangements. 

“I am the one who killed him,” Marcus said, looking you in the eye.

You nodded. "You did the right thing. I was almost losing you because of him. He tried to take everything from us."

"In a way, he kind of succeeded."

"How do you mean?"

"Villa," he muttered. You felt your chest tighten. Marcus stroked your cheek. "Cato said it was plundered and the slaves were taken which means they must be detained."

"Where could they be?"

"I have a few guesses. We'll find them, but first I must find Geta. Before the funeral-"

"How do you mean you have to find him? Is he missing?" Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

"Yesterday, I had entrusted three of my men to protect him. They arrived in the evening. They were certain it was Macrinus. They said: His men intercepted Geta's carriage and attempted to kill him. There was a skirmish between them and one of my men took him into the alleys to protect him, and probably died while doing it so. However, nobody saw Geta die. He is nowhere to be seen though.”

"Gods! Where could he be?”

"That's what I need to find out," he said, kissing the top of your head and getting out of bed. He then put on his tunic. "There may be some concern if the people don't see him at Caracalla's funeral, and if Macrinus is able to convince the senate, which is a possibility. He would then proclaim himself emperor." He turned to look at your concerned face. He sat on the bed, stroking your cheek. You let out a soft moan when you felt pain where he pressed his thumb. Your face was probably bruised where Flavius had hit you before. His eyes were filled with anger. "I should have chopped that bastard's hands and body into pieces." He hissed.

“I'll be alright. You simply find my brother, please."

“I will, I have to.” He was stroking your bruise carefully. “I know you care about him.”

You measured his gaze, “He's my brother, and it seems he's the only one left.”

“I’m aware, but the thing is, I’m not sure if he sees you as his sister.” His gaze had changed. Could it be jealousy?

“Marcus," you objected.

“It's tough for me, sharing you with someone else, even if he's your brother. As if that wasn't enough, there's a man's look in the way he looks at you, which is really frustrating for me.” His voice was sharp.

You took his hand and looked him in the eye. "Marcus, I love you and I am yours. Nothing or no one could ever change that, never."

"I know that my love. If he is still breathing, that is the reason.”

You exhaled, and he gave a faint smile in return. "Anyway, my lady. I must take my leave now." He kissed your cheek and stood up.

"Where's your armour?" you asked, standing up after him.

"It needed to be clean, the slaves were looking after it." He said, holding the door handle, he then eyed you up and down. "What are you doing?"

You looked at your stola in your hand, trying to understand his question. "I am getting dressed to come with you." You replied.

"No, Aurelia, you are not coming with me. I want you to stay in the room and rest," he said in a commanding tone.

You put on your tunic in a somewhat stubborn manner. "Please don't ask me to stay in the room. I was locked in here for days, as I'm sure you're aware."

"If you're going to be safe, it's better that way," he said firmly.

You laughed hysterically while you were wearing your stola. "Forgive me, General, but there is no way I am staying in this room in your absence."

Marcus sighed deeply. "Why are you so stubborn?”

"Please, at least let me go downstairs. The slave girl saved my life yesterday, I really must go and see her."

While you were putting on one of your sandals, you noticed he had fallen silent. He then stepped towards you and bent down in front of you. He was tying the laces of your sandal. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he murmured. You touched his shoulder to stop him.

"Or the girl..." The words got stuck in your throat.

Marcus paused then quickly tied the other sandal laces and sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn't stop the tears, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Many lost their lives, including my soldiers. They were like brothers to me and I lost them. All because of Flavius and Caracalla. I take some solace in the fact that they are no longer alive. Macrinus is next," he said in a stern tone.

"Marcus, what about our family? I can't lose them too."

"We won't. I'll look for them once I find Geta. I'll find them, I promise."

"Let me come with you, please."

He frowned. "Aurelia." His tone indicated that the matter was not up for discussion.

You twisted your lips. "Then don't prevent me from leaving this room." You touched his arm. "Besides, this wound doesn't look good, I should make a herbal mixture. It could get infected.”

"Alright then, but I'm leaving Cato here to look after you. I don't trust anyone else. Not with Macrinus still out there."

You smiled. “Understood, General.”

He smirked, kissed your cheek, and held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

As you walked into the courtyard, you saw Octavius and two other soldiers.  They noticed you and nodded.

"Tell me where Cato is at once." Marcus said to Octavius.

"He's resting, sir. His wound seems deep."

You touched Marcus' arm. "Let me examine his wound," you demanded.

"I believe the palace medicus would have attended to his wound, wouldn't he, Octavius?" Marcus asked, turning to him, awaiting an answer.

"I have learned that Emperor Caracalla had the medicus killed, sir.”

You and Marcus exchanged glances. Even though Caracalla was now dead, he had left behind some unfortunate memories, some of which were irredeemably awful.

"Octavius, I need you to stay here and ensure the safety of Lady Aurelia," Marcus said.

"As you say, sir." Octavius nodded.

Then he turned to the others. "Aris, Felix, you two come with me. We need to find Emperor Geta at once."

"Yes, sir." They both said.

"So you two are here!"

You all turned your heads towards her.

"Can you tell me where my son is, General Acacius? What are you doing here instead of finding him?" Julia asked in a defiant tone.

Right. Now his mad son had finally died, she was free too. You refused to meet her gaze. Marcus too, ignored her and turned to you. "My lady, I need to leave now. Octavius will stay here with you. Please be safe.”

"Do not worry about me, you just find him. I will be waiting for your return." You said with a smile.

"Can't you hear me? I asked you a question!”

Marcus turned to her. ‘'Lady Domna, if you don't mind, I was just about to take my leave," he said in a kind but firm tone. He than gestured for his men to step forward. He looked at you one last time before leaving the courtyard, then looked meaningfully at Octavius, who nodded. Octavius then approached you. From the way he moved and his protective demeanour, you came to know why he and Marcus had exchanged glances.

You ignored Julia's angry glare. "Octavius, take me to Cato, please."

"This way, my lady," he said, pointing ahead.

"Aurelia, where are you going? There will be members of the Senate and their wives coming to pay their respects today. Shouldn't you stay with me?"

You paused, taking a deep breath before speaking. "You're speaking as if you're my mother, Lady Domna."

"I may not be your mother but Caracalla was your brother."

"If you hadn't asked me to kill him weeks ago, I'd thought that you were in mourning right now."

"How dare you? Of course I am!" Julia's voice was loud, but when she realised Octavius was tense, she decided to lower it. "No one loved my son more than me. Whatever I have done was for him. You'll understand when you have a child of your own.”

You sighed. "I don't need your advice nor your lies. You can save them for your guests. Now, if you will excuse me, I have someone to heal." You said in a warning tone. Then you turned on your heel and left the courtyard with Octavius following you behind.

Upon Marcus's arrival with Felix and Aris at the location where Geta was last known to be, it was the hour when the streets of Rome would typically be at their most active. However, a period of mourning had been declared until the funeral, resulting in a notable absence of activity on the streets. Marcus dismounted and conducted a detailed examination of the tracks on the ground, checking every corner and stone in the hope of discovering even the slightest trace.

When he was unable to find any, he ordered his men to spread out and survey the area. He was himself engaged in searching the surrounding area. After walking for a few streets, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He soon found the person who was watching him. However, he did not reveal this to the man. The man was dressed in ordinary attire, wearing a black cloak over it. Marcus entered the courtyard of a house and waited nearby, near the wall near the entrance. As soon as the man stepped through there, as he had planned, he grabbed him and put his pugio to his throat.

“Who the hell are you? Speak!” he barked.

However, the man did not speak, he struggled, but Marcus was stronger and would not let him go. Before long, though, he pulled out a dagger with his free hand and lunged at him. Marcus saw this and grabbed his hand and pushed him hard. The man stumbled and before he could recover, Marcus had already drawn his sword. Since he didn't have a sword, the man was clearly frightened and took a few steps back before running out of the courtyard. Marcus smiled and then gave chase. He followed at a relaxed pace, curious about where he was going. But soon man started to run faster so did Marcus. After chasing him for a few streets, Felix saw them from a distance and ran over to the man and jumped on him. By the time Marcus got there, the man was already on the ground.

"Well catch, brother," Marcus said with a grin. Felix grabbed the man's hands and held them behind his back. The man tried to break free but couldn’t.

"Sir, I also had someone following me, but I couldn't catch him."

Marcus frowned. Were there more men? He looked at the man with a stern gaze.

"Whose man are you? Speak or I'll make sure you never can," Marcus said in a sharp tone, pointing his sword at the man.

The man refused to speak. He was certain that he must be Macrinus' man. A short while later, someone called out to Marcus, addressing him by his title. It was Aris, running towards them, followed by several men, all dressed similarly to the man they had captured. A few more men came from up and down the street, and they formed a circle around them. Marcus put his sharp sword to the throat of the man they had caught. They were outnumbered by eight.  One of them who Marcus figured must be their leader, took a few steps forward.

"Release my man now, General Acacius!"

"Tell us who you are and why you were following us, first.”

The man raised his arms in a friendly manner. "We're on the same side, General. There's no need for all this."

Marcus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "On the same side, you say? Which side is that I wonder? Speak at once!"

"We are also searching for Emperor Geta, as you are. However, Macrinus' men are present in many places."

"So you're saying you're not one of them?"

The man laughed. "No, of course not. I am Lexus, from Leptis Magna, and so are my brothers here. We heard that our elders, our relatives, had been murdered by Caracalla. So we came to Rome on a letter from Lady Domna. We have been keeping an eye on things for some time now."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "So you're the one who provided her with the poison that drove Caracalla mad, were you?”

The man gave a grin. "You're pretty clever for a soldier, General. I'll give you that. Well, Caracalla was already out of control, so we had to find a way to bring him down. You see, we had to do this because if he was declared a tyrant, all his decisions would be invalidated. However, it is you who killed him, so we must say thank you for that." The man bowed his head. Marcus released the man he had captured. The man ran to his friends.

Now everything was clear. Julia had been planning this since her return maybe even before.

"I assure you that no harm will come to you or your wife, Princess Aurelia. Our only desire is to find Emperor Geta at once.”

Marcus looked at him with a sharp gaze when he mentioned your name. You wouldn't dare harm her anyway, he thought. "If you were monitoring the situation from afar, why didn't you find Emperor Geta by now?"

The man let out a deep sigh. "Macrinus and the commander of the guards were making it difficult. We've lost two of our brothers since we arrived, because of them. Anyway, we will kill the commander and then him. We are simply seeking an opportunity."

"The commander is dead, as for Macrinus," Marcus sheathed his sword with a sharp noise. "I will kill him eventually, but now I must find Emperor Geta, so you'd better stay out of my way while I do so.”

Marcus gave the order to his men to follow him, and they did so without question. The others looked at their leader, who gave them a firm nod to let them go. As Marcus strode away from them and down the street, he saw a boy watching them from the corner of a wall.  The boy immediately turned and ran away as soon as he realised he had been spotted.

"Aris, catch that child!" Marcus commanded. Aris did not hesitate and ran towards him. Marcus and Felix strode purposefully towards them, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. A shrill scream rang out. And when they turned the corner, they saw Aris had caught the boy. He was holding the child with one hand and a very familiar object with the other.

“Sir, I found this on this little rascal!”

It was the bronze crown that belonged to Geta. Marcus ran towards him and took the crown from his hand.

"I did not steal it sir! He gave it to me, I swear, to all the gods!" the boy cried.

Aris shook him, "Don't lie, you little brat! Tell me, where is the owner of the crown?"

Marcus commanded, "Aris, put the boy down."

"But sir-"

"I told you to put him down." His tone was stern. Aris nodded and obeyed. Marcus approached the boy, crouched down to his level, touching his shoulder. "Who gave you this boy? Tell me. We won't hurt you, I promise."

Soon, they heard footsteps and another boy ran towards them. He was older than the other.

"You stupid! I told you!" He shouted at the little boy. Then he looked at them. His eyes widened as he noticed Marcus. "Or, are you General Acacius, sir?”

Marcus stood and smiled at him. "That's right young man, I am General Acacius. But how did you recognise me?"

"Sir, I recognised you by the armour you are wearing, an armour embroidered in gold with the great Medusa on your chest!" he said excitedly, pointing to his armour. Just like in the murals! But the real one is certainly better! Right?" He asked the little boy with a smile.

He clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! Yes, indeed!"

Marcus smiled at them. "Well, nice to meet you then. Now, can you tell me where you found this crown? I suppose you know who it belongs to, don't you?"

The children looked at each other and then back at Marcus. "He gave it to us himself, but I warned my brother that we should head together. But he did not listen! He always does it to upset me!”

“Slow down boy, slow down.” Marcus touched his shoulder. “Emperor Geta. Did he really give it to you?”

The boy nodded.

“Then where is he? And where were you heading?”

"The Emperor Geta has entrusted us with his crown in case they don't believe us. We were on our way to the Palatine Hill."

"I see now," Marcus said. "You don't have to do that anymore. You just take us to him now, we need to get him home safely, you know what I mean, don't you?" He rubbed the boy's head.

"Yes sir!" He shouted, standing at attention like a soldier.

Marcus smiled. "Good boy.”

When Marcus arrived at the place where the children had brought them, he was astounded. This was the poorhouse. The place you frequented and told him about. However, the place had clearly been refurbished. It no longer looked as shabby as it used to. The children noticed them and ran towards them. They examined his armour closely, their eyes filled with curiosity. Marcus smiled at them, recalling your words about this place. The children were well-fed and now wore proper clothes. He soon recognised Geta by his blond hair. He was sitting at a table with his back turned, next to him was an old woman. She was handing him a bowl of food.

"I'm not eating this, you old hag! Not in this life or the next! Don't you dare force me, or I'll throw up on you like a fountain!”

The woman noticed Marcus who was approaching them. Geta turned his head and his eyes widened. He leapt to his feet. "Acacius!" He shouted with a big smile spreading across his face. But then his smile faded instantly. "Acacius, why in the name of the Gods are you so late!"

"I apologize for the late arrival, Your Highness. Have you been here the whole time?”

"Yes, unfortunately I spent a night in this filthy place. Can you believe it? It's absolutely horrible!" His eyes met those of the people around him, who had heard him but not seem to care.

"My men informed me that there was a fight and the man who was protecting you was murdered. They looked for you afterwards but couldn't find you anywhere."

“Your man protected me until his last breath. After that, I ran into the alleys, but then I stumbled and fell, hitting my damn head on a stone." He pointed to his head, indicating the small wound in the corner of his forehead. "The children told me they brought me here. I opened my eyes and was in a daze. You can not even imagine the shock I had when I saw these brats around me!"

Marcus smirked. "Those brats saved your life. Good thing you're alive. We've been looking for you."

"This is yours, Your Majesty," Aris said as he handed the crown to Geta.

Geta took it and placed it on his head. “Well, we must leave then, I don't want to stay here any longer.” He came over to Marcus, bouncing a bit, clearly in pain. He then put his hand on his shoulder, Marcus sighed but helped him to walk.

"I shall have a very good bath when I get home.”

In Marcus' absence, you spent the day tending to Cato's and Octavius' wounds and preparing herbal ointment for Marcus too. People, including senators and their wives, kept coming by to offer their condolences until dark. Caracalla's body was laid down in the middle of the great hall, open-faced. A white cloth with a gold pattern embroidered around the edges was covering him up to his neck. The priestesses kept on chanting the liturgy next to him, almost without a break, until evening. As Julia greeted the people who came to pay their respects with an incredibly forced expression, you wondered how she managed it. She must have done it many times before; she was like an expert. It was as if she was not the one who wanted to kill him weeks ago. Everyone who came asked about Geta and where he was, and Julia always had an answer ready. Standing with them in the great hall, you hoped Marcus would return with Geta soon. Near dusk, you almost fainted listening to the endless guests and their long speeches. You excused yourself and left the great hall, walking to the other courtyard. It was quieter here, the nausea seemed to have passed for a few days, but your body was weak from all the tension you had been under lately.

You sat on the lectus in the courtyard and put your feet up to relax. You thought about calling out Decima, but she wasn't there anymore. All of a sudden, you felt a bit down, wondering where they were now and what they were up to. You let out a little sigh and leaned your head back. You soon heard footsteps approaching.

"My Lady." A deep, masculine, velvety voice addressed you.

You immediately opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him.

"You're here," you said, your face brightening with a smile. You were just about to slide your legs down but Marcus walked over, grabbed your legs and sat down next to you, resting your legs on his lap. He had a warm smile on his face.

"Or my lovely princess had a rather tiring day?" His hand gently caressed your legs.

"Just a little." You replied with a smile.

"Nothing to trouble you, I hope?" His gaze turned serious.

"Not really, it's just people coming to pay their respects. Some of them were rather garrulous. If you imagine what I mean." You said with a whispering gesture, putting your hand near your mouth.

Marcus laughed. "I afraid I can imagine, yes. Anyway, I returned with good news.’’

"Or did you find him?"

Marcus nodded and smiled.

“Thank the gods,” you said with relief. Then you put your feet down to embrace him. His large hands gently caressed your back, and you felt his lips brushing against your hair.

He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “I've only been away from you for a short time, yet I miss you so much.”

You pulled your head back and looked at him. His eyes took over yours with all their seductiveness. He leaned down to kiss you. But before your lips even met, a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Sister!” Geta's voice rang through the courtyard walls. Julia called after him as he approached you with a big smile on his face, ignoring his mother.

You turned your head towards his voice, tried to pull back to stand up, but Marcus' strong arms wouldn't let you. You looked at him, he seemed a bit unsure, but then his arms loosened their grip. As soon as you stood up, Geta came over and gave you a big hug. "Ugh! I've missed you so much! You wouldn't believe what's happened to me!" Marcus seemed annoyed. Julia crossed her arms.

"I have missed you too brother." You murmured.

Geta stepped back to look at you, then frowned. "Gods! What happened to your face?" 

Marcus tensed and stood up when Geta took your face in his hands. You were aware of Marcus's nervousness, of course. You gave Geta's hands a little push away. "It's nothing serious. I've already made some ointment, and if I keep applying it I'm sure it will heal in a few days."

There was a wound on the side of his forehead. You also observed that he was staggering slightly. "What about you?"

Geta just threw himself on the lectus where you were sitting a few moments ago. "I fell. I was very nearly murdered by that cunt Macrinus and his rats.”

"You shouldn't be seen like this," Julia whined, looking at him. "You should bathe and then dress appropriately for the funeral."

Geta sighed. "I agree about the bath, but afterwards I want to sleep with no dress on!"

"There are still guests coming-"

"I do not care! I'm not interested in their fake faces and tears! I need to rest." He then looked at you. "Aurelia, Acacius, join me for dinner, would you?”

“This must be a joke! It is simply not acceptable to enjoy a dinner in the house of mourning! People will gossip until eternity!" Julia yelled.

Marcus took your hand and looked at Geta. "Lady Domna is right, Your Majesty. I will have them bring your dinner to your room after your bath. It would be more appropriate if Lady Aurelia and I retired to our room now. It has been a tiring day for us all."

Geta pursed her lips. "Acacius, I would have chastised you if you hadn't come to rescue me from that awful place. However, you have every right to ask for rest. You may leave now.”

Marcus gave a nod and turned to take his leave, pulling you along with him.

“Good night sister! Rest well!” Geta said loudly after you.

“And you as well!” You waved at him.

As you made your way out of the courtyard and towards the stairs, Marcus let out a quiet sigh. "I am looking forward to returning to our villa," he said. "It might need some repairs first." He stopped at the first step of the stairs and looked at you. "We could stay here for a little longer if you wish, until I find them."

You smiled. "Now that you've found Geta, we will reunite our family."

He moved your hand, which he was holding, to his lips and kissed it. "We will, my love.”

Once you had finished your evening meal, which was brought to your room, you applied the ointment you had prepared for Marcus to his arm. You approached the table to put the bowl down, while Marcus opened the drawer of the other small table.

"My Lady, I believe I have something that belongs to you," he said. He was holding the bracelet you dropped last time when you running away from Flavius. 

"Marcus, you found it! But how?" You smiled cheerfully.

He reached for your arm and placed the bracelet on your wrist.  "I consider myself fortunate. Thanks to this bracelet, I was able to reach you in time." He sat on the edge of the bed and sat you on his lap. You put your arm around his neck. "Maybe the gods had mercy." His fingers traced the bruise on your face. His eyes were dark. "Maybe they knew what I would do if something happened to you and they intervened to prevent it, for the sake of Rome."

You could imagine what he was talking about since you had witnessed his furious side. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and kissed you on the face again and again. With each kiss, your heart was beating faster and your throat was feeling dry. As his breathing also became more rapid, lust began to take over your entire body. Marcus pushed back the hair covering your neck and kissed the exposed skin. You instinctively arched your neck back and wrapped your other arm around his neck. With your waist supported by his arm, he gently laid you down on the bed. Your feet were still touching the floor. Marcus bent over you and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips. His tongue tasted of the wine he'd just drunk – sweet and fruity. His moustache and beard tickled your cheeks, making you kiss him even more eagerly. As he deepened the kiss, he grabbed the fabric of the stola you'd tucked into your belt and quickly released you from both. Once you were left in just your tunic, he sat you down on the bed and quickly undressed you, making it very clear that he loved this very much. He took hold of your legs and waist and pulled you towards the middle of the bed. Before long, he was on top of you. His hands, his lips, his movements were as gentle and careful as he promised. It was beautiful in its seductiveness, yes, but it made you even more impatient. A few more touches and your body was already writhing to be his. You tangled your fingers in his hair as Marcus' marvellous tongue circled around your nipples. He snickered as your fingers then gripped the hem of his tunic.

“Impatient, my lady?”

“Very much so,” you said with a giggle.

He laughed and got up on his knees to take off his tunic. His bare chest never failed to amaze you. It was perfect in every sense of the word. After eyeing his torso, you reached for him, grabbed his neck, and pulled him to you.

Your lips met and immediately turned into a hungry kiss. Marcus smiled crookedly as you spread your legs for him without a second thought. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, but you were trying his patience too much. Now he was as impatient as you were. He gripped your hips and slowly entered your now helplessly squirming walls. A loud moan of pleasure escaped your mouth, causing you to break the kiss. This gave Marcus the opportunity to lick and suck your chin. But your mouths met again. And it turned into a kiss so deep you forgot how to breathe. Marcus was in no rush to speed up his thrusts, determined to be gentle this time, until you raised your hips a little and wrapped your legs tightly around him. He let out a deep, masculine sound that was similar to a roar. He broke the kiss and placed his hands on the bed, on either side of you. You thought he was angry but he snickered. "You are driving me mad you know that, do you not?"

"I know," you giggled, biting your lip. "Marcus," you ran your hands over his shoulders. "I see you're trying hard to be gentle, but there's really no need. Our child is fine." Then you placed your hands on his waist. "And I am perfectly fine." You said seductively.

He leaned in and kissed you, then grabbed your hips and pulled back to thrust deeper. "I'm glad you said that because I was just about to bite the bed sheet."

You both giggled. As if he was waiting for your approval desperately he thrust deep again. You were overwhelmed with the incredible pleasure he was giving you.

"I love how stubborn you are, even in bed," he whispered in your ear. "It makes me want you even more."

You were almost climaxing from his words, if not from his glorious thrusts deep inside your walls. He responded to your loud moans with a satisfied smile, and soon he was feeling close to the edge too.

“Marcus!” You cried out his name.

“That's right, my love. Say it louder.” He purred.

“Marcus!” You could have sworn your voice echoed across the Roman skies.

As you rose into the sky in an explosion of pleasure, you desperately but mercilessly dug your fingers into his back. And he lost it. His big fingers gripped your thighs and squeezed them so hard as he reaches his climax. He pressed his face between your breasts until he was breathing regular again. You felt wet, but it wasn't just his forehead that was sweating - your whole body was too. Your heart was beating fast, your breathing was almost wheezing, but Marcus' lips, moving slowly over your collarbone, helped you to calm down. And soon you laughed as your breathing became regular. Marcus laughed too and collapsed next to you. "This was magnificent. It deserves to be at the top of the list. What do you think, princess?" he asked, panting.

You rested your chin on his chest, looking at him curiously.  "I didn't realise you had a list, General."

He ran his hand down your spine. "Not to make comparisons of course, but to track progress. Anyway, this is a bit pointless since we're getting better every time, aren't we?" He winked at you. You blushed, but it must be invisible since your body is red all over. "Maybe it's because you're so wonderful, so full of surprises, my beautiful wife," he kissed the top of your head. You smiled and involuntarily yawned and he laughed in response. "We should get some rest now tomorrow is going to be a bit of a hard day."

"Indeed, we should," you murmured slowly, your eyelids already closing and you soon fell asleep.

He cupped your head in his palm, then carefully placed it on the pillow, then kissed your temple. "Sleep well, my love.”

—-

As the first rays of the morning heralded a new day in the city, it did not appear to evoke a sense of mourning. As the day began, people appeared to be in good spirits, with some even hoping that the period of mourning would soon come to an end and they could return to their daily lives. Nevertheless, it was an emperor who had passed away, and whatever was required for his funeral would be done, even if he had been a flawed ruler.

As was to be expected, preparations for the funeral began at the Domus Severiana at an early hour.Julia was feeling relieved inside although she looked sad and devastated from the outside. She had been sitting beside her son's cold body in the early morning, waiting in her black stola: For her other son to wake up.

It is not known whether Geta had woken up yet, but you had already opened your eyes. Marcus woke up before you and woke you up in the sweetest way; placing soft kisses on your face. It seems that the room you were in was nothing like a room in a house of mourning.

“I wish we'd never got out of bed.” You mumbled something quietly. “I really miss the early days of our marriage.”

Marcus smirked. "Am I mistaken, my lady, or weren’t you a little bored?”

You looked up at him. “Bored? I don't think so! I don't recall anything like that. Besides, I couldn't be bored with you. That's not possible, General.”

“I feel the same way, my lady. I'd love to stay in bed with you forever. But not in this bed for sure.” He frowned.

You giggled. "In our bed back at the villa?”

“Yes, you might want to make a few changes while the repairs are taking place.”

“What could it be?”

“Anything you wish. After all, it'll be three of us in that room soon, don't you think?” He gave you a wink.

“Oh, that's right.” You said with a grin.

"It might even be four or five. Or perhaps we should tear down the room and make it bigger."

It was appealing to picture yourself with so many children, but also a bit daunting. “How are we going to stay in one room with so many children? Besides, we'll never get any alone time too.”

Marcus leaned towards you. “How about a separate secret room for us to be alone, then? A small room where no one can find us?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hmm, it sounds very romantic.”

He smirked and kissed you.

And then, you heard footsteps just outside the door.

Geta came bursting in. “Are you two still in bed?” 

Marcus quickly pulled the sheet up to your head and buried you in it.

“Gods!” You yelled.

“What do you think you're doing?” Marcus barked.

Geta crossed his arms, looking away. "It's a habit, I suppose. My mind goes back to the old days." He chuckled.

It's really great that you brought up the old days in front of Marcus, brother, you thought. You couldn't see him, but you were certain Marcus was angry.

"I had no idea you two were busy romancing on the day of the funeral," he grumbled, glancing at Marcus’ naked body out of the corner of his eye. But he looked away because he was staring at him menacingly. "Anyway, get dressed at once. The ceremony will start soon."

He left the room quickly but you had no intention of lifting the sheet off your face. You were a little tense about meeting Marcus's angry face. You gripped the sheet tightly.

"The old days?" Marcus asked.

You swallowed.

"He used to barge into your room like this before too?"

You bit your lip.

"Aurelia, I asked you a question." His tone of voice was definitely angry.

You shook your head but you must have looked pretty ridiculous since you were under the sheet. Marcus surpressed his smile and took the sheet to pull it away from your face. You tried to resist, but you were no match for his strength. You looked down, not wanting to look at his face. "I am awaiting for an answer?"

He put his fingers under your chin and made you look up at him.

"It's Geta, he's always like that."

"That's not an excuse!" he yelled, startling you.

He then let out a sigh trying to control his anger. He got out of bed to put on his tunic. "This is too much! I'll make sure the villa is repaired and we return there at once, or we'll be having another emperor's funeral soon!"

"You're right, we can't stay here." You said, mumbling.

He looked at you, then sighed again, He then sat on the edge of the bed, seemed calmer now. He brushed your arm with the back of his hand all the way down to your wrist. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. It wasn't your fault after all. Forgive me."

You got up on your knees and put your arms around his neck. "Marcus, my love, we'll return to our villa eventually. I am sure that we'll be happier there than ever. So could you try to be a little more patient, please? Also, could you try not to get angry with him? Can you do that? For me?" You ran your fingers through his hair. He didn't seem angry anymore.

He nodded. "Very well. I'll try not to get angry, but just for you. However, it'll definitely be hard to do so."

You traced your lips over his cheek. "Then, whenever you feel angry, simply remember this: I love you, I'm yours, my heart is yours, and no one can change that, not in this life or the next," you whispered.

He smiled and then looked at you in the eye. "I do too, Aurelia. I love you with all my heart, my body, my soul, everything that I have." Then he kissed you passionately, soon turned into another lustful kiss and you were surprised when Marcus quickly took off his tunic.

"What are you doing General?" You giggled. "What about the ceremony?"

He grabbed you round the hips and waist and laid you back on the bed roughly, making you gasp.

"Perhaps we can keep them await a little longer," he grinned.

okay guys im seeing movie on thursday im ery excited about it! then I will have to recover in few days... to keep writing my fic, I need your supports to do that, thank you for everything love you all!!

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[naamahdarling]

You should see it. It isn't worth the risk of not seeing it if it's something that you might even remotely enjoy. Especially based on what one person says, no matter how much you admire or trust them.

He can dislike it, but if the unicorn had been buddy-movie grateful, disney-movie emotional, it would have been a very different, very shallow, MUCH worse movie. Like just, really really bad.

She's not bitchy or catty or cruel, she literally does not understand humans or their drive or their big emotions. She doesn't feel love, she doesn't feel regret. She doesn't have ambition, she doesn't desire or benefit from change. She barely wants anything. She's complete by herself. She is content.

She can't be ungrateful unless you expect what is essentially a...a kind of immortal spirit, a place, a forest in the shape of a creature, to be in any way at all human. She can't be a deity, that's an extremely human concept, but she is not a normal living thing in any regard whatsoever.

The entire point of the movie is change, and truth. Front to back, it is change and truth, and the destruction of illusions, and surviving it, and the toll that takes, and the gifts it can bring. It's full of tremendous and intense, unthinkable, incomprehensible, destructive, renewing, life-altering change. And also truth, and the unraveling of illusions, which are everywhere in the narrative, and are almost always dangerous, or hiding something that is.

The unicorn unravels everything around her by being the catalyst for change, and it is incredibly destructive. Things come apart around her. It leads to good things, usually, but it breaks everything first.

She changes on the road, she learns to care about humans enough to help them, to save their lives, and that is very much an expression of gratitude.

She just doesn't care about the wizard questing for greatness. It is irrelevant. Glory is useless. And she's right.

She doesn't experience a fundamental alteration of her nature until she is forcibly changed against her will to survive, and it is not a positive change. It ruins her. It is a tremendous trauma that leaves her empty and broken, and eventually, partly and unnaturally human. She keeps losing what she was, and it is tragic and painful to watch. Why would she be grateful for that? She wishes she had died.

She finally develops something like love, but only after she has forgotten much of what she was. Then she desperately grasps onto it as something to replace what she lost.

Her encroaching humanity is killing what she was (her first response to being human was absolute visceral terror at having a mortal, and thus actively dying, body) a trauma response that allows her to survive, to hide. An illusion.

Love is an attempt to make peace with it all, and it is beautiful enough, but also empty. You are never meant to cheer for it. Only feel for them both. It's a sticking point for some people that the romance isn't done well. It isn't meant to feel right. They leaned on it a little hard in the movie, the book does it better, but it was a "kids' movie" (it isn't) so that was a little inevitable.

Change destroys everything, and it breaks everything.

At the end, when she changes back, who is it she appears to, to acknowledge what happened? And who is it she visits and touches and loves and says goodbye to? She is grateful.

The movie/book does exactly what it set out to do, and I have to say that I don't necessarily trust the judgment of people who dismiss it out of hand.

Yes, I saw it young, in the theater, so I imprinted, but it has been a radically different movie at different parts of my life. I've identified with every character in different phases of my life, so it has had the depth to stand up to easily over a hundred viewings by a half dozen versions of myself. I know people have their issues with the style of animation which, whatever, I think it's gorgeous and I also don't consider that a reason to dismiss an otherwise good movie or show (I really dislike the animation style of Gravity Falls, actually, it bores the crap out of me, but that isn't the point). But the story itself is not like anything else I've ever seen.

If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you don't. But wanting her to be grateful and kind is...really super duper extremely not the point, and would actually be antithetical to it and ruin the story as it is. And it's missing the ways she expresses those things. If that's what you take away, that she is somehow morally deficient, you literally did not understand it, or you haven't seen it, or you have a take so radically divergent from mine I am probably incapable of understanding it.

It is so, so good.

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

I 𓂃› GHOSTS

Warning: neglect (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, blood, swearing, sensitive topics, writing errors (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

You consider yourself a good son

I mean, you were never a saint, there were times when you did stupid things and got into trouble with her, but you always managed to solve them. But apparently the universe decided that you weren't good enough.

Not for your family at least.

You were just another product of your father's affair, the only difference is that you were born (something that wasn't supposed to happen) but that's okay! Your mother still loved you and took care of you with all the love she had to offer.

She never spoke openly about your father, but you saw on TV the news about your mother, the great writer from Gotham, with the businessman Bruce Wayne. You were always smart and quickly connected the dots but you didn't question your mother because she was clearly uncomfortable, so you kept quiet and let it go, because you didn't need him. You already had your mother, you already had your uncles, even your little friends from school! You don't need your father.

That is until she died.

It was when you were four years old, you had gone to the market to buy things for dinner and on the way a criminal tried to steal them, your mother trying to protect you ended up with a bullet in the chest, you remember little, but you remember that he ran away while your mother died in front of you. After that you thought you were going to be sent to an orphanage, believe your surprise when your father came to take you home. The first time you saw him you were surprised by how much alike you were: same hair, same eyes, your face was really your mother's, but your skin was his, you were a perfect mix of your mother and your father, at the time you loved it but now... you are not so sure.

When you arrived at the mansion, you met your half-siblings. You were so excited. You always wanted a sibling, since you spent a lot of time alone. The possibility of having siblings made you very happy. The first was Dick: a bright smile and the sunshine of the family. Dick was friendly with you and at least bothered to ask a little about you, like your age or when your birthday was. But the next day, he completely forgot about you. Even though he lived in Bludhaven, he visited the mansion often. Of all your siblings, you felt the most excluded by him. While he said that family was the most important thing, he ignored you. Maybe it wasn't intentional, but what's the point of apologizing for not being there if you don't change anything?

The second was Tim: the Robin of the time. Tim was just... Tim, he was never that neglectful with you, but he didn't try to get closer either. He had no opinion for you. You would say that Tim was observant, quiet, and cold. He would help you if he saw that you needed help, the problem was that he was never there, so he never had time for you (like everyone else).

The third was Jason: in your opinion he was your favorite, Jason was the one in the house who gave you some attention. It wasn't always, but when he came to the mansion he really cared about asking about you.

"Why are you so skinny?" "Are you doing well in your studies?" "Is someone bothering you, brat?" and things like that. Jason wasn't that close but he was never distant either, that's why he was your favorite, but just like Tim he was never there when you needed him, since he couldn't stay at the mansion much (you believe that part of the blame is Bruce).

Then came the rest of your siblings, Barbara was always busy like Bruce and Dick, Cassandra and Stephanie weren't interested in you, and Duke never exchanged more than two or three words with you.

And then to top it all off came Damian: your younger brother. You thought that even though Damian was Al Grul's (trained to kill and all) maybe, just maybe, you two could have a good relationship.

Oh, how terribly wrong you were.

And you realized it the moment Damian almost cut your throat with his sword. That day Damian was reprimanded by Bruce while Dick was taking care of his neck, from what you understood Damian thought he needed to kill you to become Robin. 

You, a civilian, almost wanted to laugh at his presumption that you could be a vigilante when you couldn't even lift your backpack properly. After that day you didn't get close to Damian again, the fear of him doing something to you terrified you to the core. Damian realized it, you knew it by the looks he gave you, but whether it was pride or shame he never apologized to you.

Bruce never had time for you, wrapped up in work and as Batman his time was precious and he had to spend it on what was necessary, and you understood that.

You understood all of them.

But...it still hurt.

It hurt your soul a lot.

That's why you stopped trying to impress them, stopped enrolling in classes they liked just to get their attention, stopped bothering them to get some family time. You gave up, simple as that, the family didn't care, probably not even knowing about it.

There was Alfred, who probably spent the most time with you, acting like a grandfather. But Alfred is also Bruce's butler and the sidekick to Gotham's heroes, he couldn't spend all his time with you either (you accepted that, it was okay).

But sometimes there were rare moments that happened, moments when they cared, when you saw a little bit of love from them towards you.

Like when Jason gave you one of his sweatshirts for your birthday, one that you really liked (you still wear it to this day, it's still too big on you).Or when you didn't have a partner for your history project since no one was your friend, so Dick and Tim spent half the night helping you with it. Or when school bullies beat you up, you went back to the mansion (which was empty) with a black eye, just so Damian could see you. By some miracle, you convinced him not to tell Bruce, thinking that the matter had died there, you went back to your room only for Damian to knock on your door in the middle of the night and give you a pair of brass knuckles for you to use next time (you never used them, but knowing that he cared was comforting).

I think the most important of these moments was when Bruce showed up at your elementary school graduation. Thanks to your mother, you were more gifted than the others, advancing a few years in school, making you finish school before your age. Imagine: a pre-teen in the middle of almost adults with other adults looking at you (it's desperate) but you saw him, Bruce Wayne together with Alfred looking at you for the first time. He didn't stay until the end, but he was still there, he was there for you.

That's why you hated them.

How dare they? Play with your heart like that, giving you hope that maybe you could be a normal family, a happy family. You hated that, you hated having hope, you hated that they cared and then left you aside.

And what you hate the most is that every time you fall for their talk.

That's why you're taking some time for yourself, far away from them at your aunt's house. In two weeks it will be your fourteenth birthday and you decided this time to spend it with your aunt, to try to forget about your life in Gotham with your family (besides, it had been years since you saw her, it was time to get over the longing).

You told her well in advance, already planning it since the beginning of the month, so now at the train station you didn't feel any worries as you got on the bus.

You didn't tell your family, they wouldn't even care, you just told Alfred so that the poor man wouldn't have a heart attack if he didn't see you in the room.

Maybe if you had told them, this wouldn't have happened.

Dick loves his family.

No matter how many problems they have, he will always love them, family is everything to him.

So why these days has he felt like he's forgetting something?

Was it training with Damian? No, that was for tomorrow, maybe patrol with Bruce? That was impossible to forget, could there have been something with Tim? He doesn't remember his brother asking him for something, maybe Cass? She said a friend was going to have his birthday-

birthday.

(Name's) birthday.

The realization hit him like a train, that was it! His birthday, he had completely forgotten about it, when will it be? If he remembers, will it be in two weeks? You're going to be-

How old are you again?

No, that's absurd, he knows how old you are, he would be stupid not to. You must be twelve? No! Thirteen? But he doesn't remember your thirteenth birthday.

In fact, he doesn't remember any of your birthdays.

Okay, maybe he doesn't remember now, but he was definitely there for your birthday, he's your big brother! Why wouldn't he be?

Okay, he decided that as soon as he finished patrolling with the rest of the family he would talk to everyone about it.

As he jumped between the rooftops his phone vibrated loudly, but he didn't bother to look at it, he would check it later.

Hurry up Dick, before it's too late.

Tim was monitoring the batcave today, helping with location and crimes remotely. Today would be a normal patrol, too calm. Tim hated these patrols, too calm and preparing for the storm.

This time a hurricane would come and no one would be prepared.

The first to arrive was Jason, who came just to help with the investigation of a particular case. He leaned on the table next to Tim and watched the cameras and sensors on the television he controlled. The second was Bruce and Damian. Bruce went to talk to Alfred and Damian went to the table in the center where Tim's phone was. Tim, listening to Dick's message, who was near the mansion, almost didn't hear the youngest Wayne talking.

"Someone's calling you." Tim looked at Damian, who turned on his phone. Without worrying, he went back to the computer. "I can answer later." Damian apparently wasn't satisfied and turned on the phone only to see that the flames were his, his name engraved on the screen. "It's our sister's." "Cass's?"

"(Name's)" Now that caught Jason's attention. He looked at the youngest Wayne. For some reason, a bad feeling took over him, the same feeling that something bad was going to happen. "Oh, that's it. I'm kind of busy here. Can you see what she wants for me?"

Grimacing, Damian would have put the phone down, but something inside him told him to check, to check, so he picked up the phone and unlocked it to find over twenty missed calls from him “oh my”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce approached the boys, having vaguely heard the conversation. “There are over twenty calls and at least fifteen messages” now that really caught everyone’s attention.

“What?” Jason answered for everyone, breaking the silence that settled in the room, but Damian didn’t bother to answer, instead going to the messages, he was going to go through them when a word caught his attention.

Help 

Just with that the bad feeling inside Damian grew, his behavior changing and showing the others that the matter was serious “Oh shit."

“What’s going on” Dick finally arrived, only to find the tense atmosphere in the room, as he walked Damian went through the messages finding words like “help” “help” “invaded” and “bus”

“Damian what happened” he opened the voicemail, seeing many of them only in the last hour, he put it on maximum volume for him and the others to hear.

"T-Tim please pick up" your voice came out shaky, low almost in a whisper and desolate, full of fear "I-I... I tried calling Dick a-and even Bruce" the sobs of your voice were restricted by your mouth, sighing heavily a bang was heard on the other end startling you "I-I need help... p-please" and so the voicemail ended

“The mansion was invaded?!” Jason didn’t ask anyone in particular, but Tim went to see the footage of the mansion for the last few hours anyway. “No, no one came into the house.”

“Where is she?” Dick was quick to pick up the phone, just like Damian, he came across at least twenty voicemails for him. To get attention, Alfred coughed lightly and automatically everyone’s heads turned in his direction. “Master (Name) went out to spend her birthday with her aunt who lives in New York.”

And that’s how chaos exploded.

The next minute, everyone’s voices echoed through the cave. “What?!” “What do you mean?!” “When did she tell you that!?” Bruce replied as he walked towards Tim’s computer. “She didn’t tell you anything, Alfred, why didn’t you tell me?”

Alfred looked at his master, almost exploding at such stupidity, he knew Bruce didn't have time for you but he also made it clear that he didn't care about you, it was no surprise that you hadn't even warned him before, but respecting you (and master Bruce) he answered. "Master (Name) thought it wasn't necessary, he told me only if you gentlemen asked for her." Tim went back to the computer, now not scanning the streets of Gotham, but looking for you, Dick scrolled through the voicemail and clicked on the most recent one, made 15 minutes ago, his voice once again filled the air making everyone hear you.

This time the line started in silence, only your agitated breathing being heard, it is possible to hear a whisper much quieter than before on the line "Dick please, I-I... I beg p-please, please, p-please, p-please, please-" you were silenced by the noise of something near you, your breathing was weak, footsteps echoed wherever you were, you approached the phone and whispered into the cell phone "save me" when you finished speaking voices approached and then a scream came from you, your phone fell somewhere far from you but even so it was possible to hear your screams and your fight for the cell phone until the line finally ended

“Holy shit…” tension built up in the room, the family was completely stunned by the line, Jason was the first to go looking for him, Dick tried to stop him but he went looking for him too, Damian and Bruce left soon after and Tim went back to his computer at full speed.

They need to find you, Now!

But it was too late

“Tim tell me you found her” Jason shouted on the line as he moved with Dick, the two of them as well as the rest were moving at each of the bus stops to look for their route, the result was nothing.

Tim huffed on the line, irritated with his brother. “If you stopped asking me every two minutes maybe I would find her”

“Your-”

“Enough fighting! That’s not the focus right now” Dick said to Jason and Tim, although his harsh tone gave him away showing how exasperated he was. “Our focus is to find (Name)” Jason looked ahead accepting his brother, they had to find her, he needed to.

Jason wouldn’t forgive himself if his sister died.

“I found her!” Tim shouted excitedly, the spark of hope on his face until he saw the bus where he was “oh no” his heart started beating faster, fear started to settle in his body, but he remained paralyzed without being able to move. 

“Tim? Tim, what happened? Tim saw on the computer the image of his bus fallen to the ground, with fire gathering around it. The red robin could only move when he heard Bruce's voice. With his fingers shaking, Tim sent the image of the accident to each person's cell phone.

Bruce could feel his heart beating out of his chest, the sight of the bus lying on the ground, burned and destroyed was enough to make his heart stop, Damian was in no different situation, all he could think about was your face, scared and afraid of him.

He wanted to see you.

Everyone wanted to see you, but it was too late.

The hurricane passed and destroyed everything

“This morning, news shook all of Gotham, a bus destined for New York was intentionally unloaded in the middle of the road. In total, of the twenty-two passengers, five were injured and seven were kidnapped, among those kidnapped was the second youngest daughter of the great businessman Bruce Wayne, (Name) Wayne, the police are investigating the case-” the television was turned off by Jason, who threw the remote control hard on the couch, now with all the brothers gathered (Barbara, Cass, Stephanie and Duke there too) they were waiting for news from Bruce, who went to a press conference to speak at home with Alfred. Dick, trying to calm his brother, approached him and put his hand on his shoulder “Jason, we're going to find her-”

“Are we going to find her? She might be dead now!” Jason said without thinking, but the mood in the room dropped even more than it already was. Both the guilt and the despair of losing you were what terrified not only Jason, but everyone in that room.

“She’s not dead.” Damian was the one who calmed the situation, approaching the two of them. “You saw it yourself, she was taken, but she’s alive.”

“And who can guarantee that she’s not dead, huh, demon?” The youngest Wayne narrowed his eyes. Jason was right too. Who can guarantee that she’s not already dead? Who can guarantee that she’s not already six feet under, buried?

“(Name) isn’t dead.” Bruce and Alfred entered the mansion. Wayne’s suit was all wrinkled, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was because he had more important things to worry about. “She isn’t dead, and we’re going to find her.”

“Even if it’s just her corpse.”

Oh, okay that was a lot of work to do, enjoy.

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

Tchau.

[itsa-me-lily]

I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Military Program Spouse (mobile is fighting me to add the link)

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

[black--sun]

He grins, and then he notices Shiro said doomed romantic subplot, and the expression wavers. Then he’s kind of impressed Shiro knows what a doomed romantic subplot is, and Ichigo’s not sure if he wants to finish that grin or not. He doesn’t actually know which direction to let his emotions go. Shiro is an unnerving person. Not that Ichigo is unnerved so much as his pulse is tripping a quicker beat. It’s the instant realization that he’s walking beside someone that might’ve been world changing in a different life or a different time or if his circumstances hadn’t been such shit. Shiro's already got a grip on the entire city. He didn’t even have a good start in life. He has so much potential. It’s kind of horrible that it was never fostered— or maybe they’re all better off. Ichigo’s not quite sure why all it took was that small phrase to give him such an epiphany. Maybe because he knows Shiro doesn’t have any interest in books, but Ichigo’s betting he could change his clothes and walk into a room of Ichigo’s colleagues and fake belonging there well enough to be believable. Like a chameleon. That's a very specific talent. Then again, Ichigo is so in love with the asshole, he’s probably playing it up in his head. “You’re kind of scary sometimes.” In a way that makes Ichigo itch to get his hands on him and follow him down that rabbit hole, because he’s obviously also not quite typical. He mirrors Shiro’s scoff though and backtracks. “I’ve seen you embarrassed so many times. I’ve seen you embarrassed twice in the last hour.”

That offer tugs his guts up into his throat and then heats them as they settle back into place. He’s never stopped wanting Shiro for a second. Not even back when he was trying to convince himself it was hate. “If it were that easy, I’d let you.” He gives Shiro a flat look at those words just because Shiro can be willfully oblivious when he doesn’t want to face something head on. But Ichigo is nothing if not blunt enough to cut through bullshit. “Shiro, he thinks you turned on him the last time he needed you. Do you really think he’s going to come ask for help? Do you think he would’ve anyway?” Getting Grimmjow to admit he needs anything from anyone is like pulling teeth. Actually, he thinks Grimmjow would rather lose teeth. But Shiro and Grimmjow were close once, so who even knows. “I don’t know if it’s even that personal. Do you have any idea how much of a song and dance I had to do to get him and Urahara hooked up? He still doesn’t know I had anything to do with it. If he did, he probably would’ve come after me.” Grimmjow, damn him, can still kick him around pretty good when he has it in mind. “But I’ll be sure to let him know you want to help. He can be your problem for a while.” 

He really does care about Grimmjow, but fucking hell is the guy high maintenance. Just thinking about it has Ichigo in a bad mood. But the last Ichigo heard, he was working for someone else on the side though, so this is probably old information.

Shiro’s tone leaves him feeling like he took a cheap shot. He probably did, but he also means it. He’s not always a great friend, but he doesn’t do it halfway. He sure as hell doesn’t leave them to die alone. 

Ichigo doesn’t comment, he just nods while his brain chews on that. Shiro has a lot of people’s dirty underwear in his pocket. 

Ichigo pulls into a parking space, scanning the street as he exits his car. It locks behind him as he walks toward Shiro and tries all over again to ignore that skin Shiro has on display. He’s never been here. Never even noticed this place, though he’s familiar enough with most of the city. He glances in through the window and thinks it looks exactly like the kind of place these clothes came from.

At first it was kind of difficult to imagine Ichigo sitting at a desk, writing into the early hours of the morning, hours he's usually out roaming the streets or working a very different kind of job. But the more they talk about it, the more easily the image comes to him. He never really saw Ichigo bent over his studies when they were together, but he knows that's because he was too much of a distraction. Without himself in the picture, it's a lot easier to imagine.

He scoffs, "I never do anything embarrassing." Very very not true. Ichigo makes himself so punchable sometimes. Shiro struggles not to roll his eyes, and plays along instead. "Oh, don't downplay that. It'll be the most interesting part of the whole story. Who doesn't love a doomed romantic subplot attached to the misunderstood character? Most of the criminal population probably doesn't read anyway."

Ichigo's not wrong, but damn that's kind of harsh. "Yeah but I'd say no to all of them real fuckin' fast to say yes to you instead." He'd drop everything and everyone for Ichigo. Obsessed, like Ichigo's going to write in his book. And he's glad for the confirmation that he's the hottest guy Ichigo knows, but he didn't really want to hear about whatever complicated thing is going on between Grimmjow and Ichigo. Except it shifts gears into something. Shiro blinks, then heaves an exasperated sigh. "I understand he's mad at me, but I'm literally so loaded I don't know what to do with it. All he has to do is say something. Hell he could'a just sent me his rent bill or something." What an asshole. He doubts Grimmjow wants handouts from him, "Or I could find work for him. Doesn't even have to be illegal shit. I have a lot of connections."

That scowl makes Shiro's hackles raise, but the words take most of the fight out of him. He's so twisted up about Ichigo. He sighs. "I do. I do wanna be friends." The problem is that he doesn't know how to be just friends with Ichigo. He's going to settle for it, because it's all he's going to get, but it's going to hurt.

He shrugs. "Not all of it. I move the important stuff. Politicians, celebrities. People who think they're being discrete. Only reason I never moved my own product before was because I didn't trust myself around it often." He offers up a sort of self deprecating smile. "That's not an issue anymore. But it's a lot of product, a lot of money and a lot of networking to trust to someone else, so it works out."

He watches Ichigo check his own vehicle from the driver seat, and starts rolling down the drive when he sees Ichigo climb into the car and start it. He takes them into the city, to a hole in the wall alt fashion shop that has too many items crammed into a too small of a space. It's his favorite place for clothes though.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a few words. l Joel Miller

Summary: words he didn't want you to hear

Warnings:  angst, unpleasant conversation, they move away from each other

A/N: nothing special. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Tommy looked at his brother as if he was seeing him for the first time in his life. He hadn't expected this and was slowly regretting that he had shown up at the stables with a few bottles of beer that evening.

"You can't be fucking serious." he finally said.

The man who was sitting on a haystack by the wall seemed exhausted. His brown eyes were fixed on the horse in the opposite stall, the bottle in his big hands still full of beer.

"You slept with her?" Joel looked at him surprised. "What? Simple question. Did you sleep with her or not?"

Joel shook his head. "No."

"But you wish you did."

He looked down, but he couldn't lie to someone who knew him so well. Of course he thought about it. Most often when he was alone in the dark bedroom. Memories of every kiss, tender touch, moments when he held you in his arms - all of these haunted him like ghosts.

He was furious because he wanted more. He wanted to be alive again, to feel again. But should he?

"Joel, you've known each other for years, you live together. Why are you messing with her head if you don't want anything to do with her?"

"It's not like that, Tommy..." his voice was tired, barely audible. "Everything's different with her."

"So why don't you want to give it a chance?" Tommy took a sip of beer. "I don't get it. If you want to be with her, then be. Tell her how you feel and..."

"I'm too old for this!" Joel snapped. "She deserves better, and I can't give it to her."

"Bullshit!" Tommy muttered.

There was silence for a moment. The distant noises of the city settling in for the night drifted through the open stable door. Tommy sat down next to his brother, resting his arms on his knees.

"She's a really nice girl," he said. "I see how she looks at you, cares about you and Ellie. Do you really want to break her heart like that?"

"She's tough."

"Yes, she is."

"Are you going out?"

You were just putting a thermos with a hot drink and a couple of sandwiches into your backpack, you didn't even look up when Joel went down to the kitchen in the morning.

"Yeah. I'm going on patrol." you answered.

Joel frowned. "Our turn is tomorrow."

"I swapped with Paul. He'll go with you. You two get along."

An unpleasant shiver ran down his spine, his heart sped up. The backpack was almost ready, and you didn't seem in the mood for long conversations.

"I'd rather go with you." he grumbled, coming closer and clenching his hands on the back of the chair.

"A change will do you good. It'll do us good too."

"Have you talked to Tommy about this?"

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and looked him in the eye for the first time. He saw something strange in that look. A mixture of sadness, anger, and some kind of severity. You hadn't looked at him like that before.

"You'll probably talk to him yourself, right?" you said "I think..." your voice broke for a moment, but you quickly got back on track. "I think when I get back I'll ask Maria to find me another place to live."

"W-What? Why?"

"We both know why."

You adjusted your backpack and left the house. The world you had built had just collapsed.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"You could have not let her go!"

"She's an adult, Joel! She came last night, said she had already talked to Paul. I couldn't say no to her." Tommy put the crate in the storage room and looked at Joel.

He could see that his brother was furious and distraught. You usually went on patrols together, Joel didn't like you going out alone. Although he knew you would manage, he didn't fully trust others. Now he had completely lost control over anything.

Tommy looked at him with pity. "I think she must have heard us yesterday. Maria saw her in town, she was upset. Then she showed up at our place. I didn't ask, it's none of my business."

"You could have stopped her." Joel repeated quietly.

"And you could have kept her with you. But you chose not to."

He could.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist

[ahamkara-apologist]

okay disclaimer: ik that categorizing female characters as the 'mom friend/figure' is a legit disease in fandom caused by general misogynistic views of female characters, and it's something that personally greatly irritates me bc its not only awful to do, it also tends to ruin the characters its put upon. ESPECIALLY in D2, which is outstanding in its cast of strong female characters

however. in the case of Eramis, I do believe that the fact that she was a mother and is a genuinely caring, nurturing person at heart is something that is a deeply important core part of her character, as well as thematically important to the future of the Eliskni moving forward. It's important because in her case, I believe that her motherly inclinations are why, pre-Witness-whispering-through-the-Darkness, Eramis was such a successful kell- because unlike some other kells who sought a future for the Eliksni via domination, her main focus for them was to create a haven for her people that could be defended from Lightbearers. Riis-Reborn wasn't something to sniff at- it was the closest thing to an actual Eliksni city in a very long while. What got her was her trauma of the Whirlwind and her desire to destroy the Traveler to level the playing field for everyone involved- trauma that the Witness preyed upon in order to get to us. Like a parasite, seeking its secondary host. Eramis certainly is not the only Eliksni who lost her family during the Whirlwind, but I think that her specific brand of anger is closest to that of a mother lion whose cubs are in danger, and is lashing out in a furious fight-or-flight reflex at anything that she perceives as a threat. It's just that in this case, her 'cubs' were the Eliksni as a whole, and the threat she perceived before the Witness started torturing her was the Traveler.

I also think that her relationship with parenthood also makes for a very interesting character contrast to Misraaks (aka the other successful kell viewed as a source of hope for the Eliksni), and helps to set them up as antiparallels to each other. Eramis was a gentle, nurturing mother with a reverence for the Traveler who turned into the bitter, cunning warrior we see now when she lost access to her wife and children; Misraaks was a fearsome, ruthless pirate before he became a father, which gentled him and turned him towards being more pious. Eramis represents the old ways, and offers hope to the Eliksni who cannot bear to cohabitate with humanity; Misraaks represents a change in the tide, and kells the open-minded Eliksni who are willing to lay down their arms to live among the humans of Sol. Misraaks is of Light (change, forgiveness, moving forward), while Eramis is of Darkness (memory, control, looking back). They're opposites in every way except for the fact that both of them were/are amazing parents, and I'd argue that their ability to nurture and overlook others is what led to their success as kells.

Most importantly, however, is their relationship to Eido, who represents the future of the Eliksni. Misraaks was her father, and he did his best to raise her to be kind and openminded, but he also shielded her from the horrors of the past a little too well. She's outgrown that, and now that she's strong enough to handle said horrors, Eramis has been acting as a mentor to fully introduce her to the tragedy of what she lost and why elder Eliksni are so angry about it- and I don't think that she would have been receptive to Eido attempting to talk to her if it weren't for the fact that under all of her prickly armour, she's still that nurturing person at heart. It's her desire to care for others and to see a better future for her people that has kept her going despite her having no hope for herself, and it's that loving heart that has saved herself and her people from utter destruction at both our hands and Fikrul's- because if she didn't look at eido and go 'oh this child is the future of our people and i must protect her with my life', then both her and the rest of House Salvation would have been marked for death. And now here she is, continuing to care for Eido even as her father declines by telling her stories about Riis and helping her track down an apothecary to try to cure him, despite her not believing in his ways. I don't think it's entirely because she used to be a mother, but...I do think that it's playing a huge role in it.

(I also think it's personally fascinating to see how someone who used to be known for being a doting, sweet mom to her hatchlings and a caring mate to her wife can turn into someone who's a terrifying warrior on the battlefield and a cunning, politically saavy ruler, but even then, that doesn't surprise me all that much- if you've got a dearth of experience wrangling hatchlings, then being kell of a house is basically just wrangling a bunch of grown-up hatchlings. Same principles, just upped a level or two in complexity.)

[daisymbin]

[19:51] - choi seungcheol

a/n: as you can tell by now, im down so bad for this man...the amount of fics I've written for him....sickening

check out my masterlist!

"if you don't love me anymore, you can just tell me."

the words tumble out of seungcheol's mouth as if they’ve been sitting on his tongue for hours, maybe even days. his voice is quiet but firm, and it catches you completely off guard. the two of you are sitting together on the couch, the usual comfortable silence between you both now feeling...strained.

you turn to look at him, your eyes widening at the unexpected confession. "what?" you ask, the confusion evident in your voice. you’ve been in a relationship with him for so long that you never expected him to say something like that.

he doesn’t meet your gaze right away. instead, he stares ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you can tell he’s trying to look calm, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and a flicker of doubt in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it makes your heart twist, and you instinctively reach out to touch his arm.

"cheol..what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your fingers brushing his skin. "why would you even say that?"

he finally turns to face you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. there’s a sadness there, like he’s been carrying something heavy for a while, unsure of whether he should put it down.

"i just... i don’t know," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "i feel like things have been... different between us lately. like maybe you’re not as into me anymore. and it’s been bothering me, but i didn’t know how to bring it up."

your heart drops at his words, and you immediately pull him closer, your hand on his cheek. "cheol-ah, that’s not true," you say urgently. "i’ve been distracted, busy with work, with life. but i still love you. nothing’s changed."

he sighs, his eyes softening as he leans into your touch. "i don’t know," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "it just feels like we’ve been drifting apart. and i’m scared. scared that you don’t love me the way you used to."

you shake your head, a lump forming in your throat. how could he think that? how could he even question your feelings after all this time?

"choi seungcheol," you say, your voice firm now, trying to reassure him. "i’m not going anywhere. i love you more than anything. but i don’t always show it in the ways you expect, and maybe that’s where the disconnect is. but i love you. i always have & i always will."

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitance. "you still love me?" he asks, as though he needs to hear it again.

"yes," you reply, your heart full of emotion. "i still love you. i always will."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face slowly breaking into a smile. it’s a small, relieved smile, but it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in days.

"okay," he says, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "i just needed to hear that."

you smile back at him, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "i’m sorry i made you worry," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "but i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere."

seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "well, don't even think about that then, it won't ever happen."

seungcheol pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against him. "i love you," he whispers, his voice full of sincerity.

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling in your chest.

[letrune]

That is why it is a weird "universal diversity", the base line is the same sort of thinking, but the details change around.

Herearound, in the past century, being "good and pure" meant "shut up, keep your head down, or we will bash it in", for everyone. Major difference was how women could become the enforcers of such a system towards people (including men from minorities) below them in some systems, and how some outright refused to engage in sexism institutionally... and ignored what people did at home.

E.g. between the 1961-1981 period, Hungarian women were the most liberated in the Eastern Block. They could even be politicians, which would have been amazing if 90% of the Hungarian Parliament were not already a bunch of aging "old partisans" who just stopped caring and voted between lunch sessions and reading the newspaper.

And then women and men went home, and women were supposed to cook the meal while the men were supposed to fix the car. Sure, they could actually be like "the man cooks, the woman fixes the car", but then their neighbours would scoff and belittle them. No law against that, no bureaucratic system to do anything about this, no official record.

That only came back when Hungary decided to ditch "liberalism" as a whole and become this miniature Russia. And it sucks.

A lot of women still remember when we had official equality, but the new generations treat it as "the evil liberalism", and thus some want notthing. They either become radfems, who then end up in unhappy tradwife lives, or... shut up, keeping their heads down, in fear they get bashed in.

But hey, "good and pure" women get the positives of sexism. Being seen as sexy, desirable, a goal for other tradwives and radicals, praised by misapplied prose, stolen from feminist poets. Being told they never have to work or think, leave such "lower work" on men or the "lesser women"...

Being "good and pure" on terms the anti-liberal Hungary allows them, because women's liberation is a form of liberalism, and we all KNOW liberalism is evil, right? It worked too well by putting us all in a Pavlovian reflex on hating things... and that is, sadly, universal from what I seen. I hope I am wrong.

Sorry for the whole tirade. I just wished to give some insight why and how this is different here. I hope it is fine.

We need to bring back the term “benevolent sexism” into widespread use for real. It’s a major mechanism in how bioessentialist Girlboss Radfems can be turned into bioessentialist conservative Tradwives.

[luimagines]

Wind Calls You Mom

Another commission!

They asked for Wind calling Reader mom and then gets embarrassed about it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When you first started traveling with the boys, you thought you were about to jump off a cliff.

Don’t get it mixed up. You adore each and every one of them, but you were sure that their antics were going to make you go gray before thirty.

You had known that teenage boys were a pain even on the best of days. But you didn’t realize how quickly you would have been singled out as it was. And because they were all nasty, testosterone filled menaces, your poor nose was about to keel over and call it quits.

So! Much to your behest, you took it upon yourself (by gently bullying them) to be the one to actually keep them on top of their cleanliness and their hygiene because you refused to baby these nearly fully grown men. Honestly, you could have started crying by the stench alone if you had the misfortune of being down wind of them.

“Take a shower.” You held a hand up, shutting the poor boy down before he could say anything else.

“Oh come on!” Wind whines, dramatically pouting and throwing his hands by his sides. “It’s not even that bad-!”

“Because you’re the one living in it.” You press, keeping your hand up between you both. “Either go jump in the river or change your clothes- for goodness sake-!”

Wind turns to one of the other guys for support but they all collectively shrug. This isn't a battle they’re willing to fight. You’ve been quite adamant about it over the weeks you’ve traveled with them. Time in particular isn’t going to fight you on this and you know it.

Teenage boys smell the worst.

“Next town we go to I’m getting all of you some sort of odor neutralizer.” You grumble and turn back to cleaning your weapon. “It’s a miracle I haven’t dropped dead.”

Wind groans even louder. 

Hyrule snickers in the background. You turn and point a finger to him, fighting to keep a straight face as you speak again. “Don’t you start! You’re one of the worst offenders!”

“Who am I offending?” Hyrule puts a melodramatic hand to his chest.

“My nose!”

“Tough.”

You stand, ready to fight the boy before Wind flops over, dragging you back down to your spot. He doesn’t actually smell that bad. If you think onions aren’t that smelly to begin with, that is. You don’t even know why he smells like onions. You didn’t even eat onions today!

“Wind! Get off! You smell!” You groan and try to push him off. He chooses violence and latches on instead. 

“I don’t want to now.” He pouts. “You’re being mean.”

“I am not!” You try to push him off again with more force. “Wind!”

“Wind.” Warrior comes to your rescue. “Come on. We have to do laundry anyway. We can clean your clothes and it’ll solve the issue.”

Wind rolls over, covering himself with dirt as he hits the ground. “You’re no fun.”

Warrior chuckles. “And you smell.”

“HA!”

“Warrior, you traitor.” Wind grumbles and gets up. His whole back is filthy and it makes you laugh.

“Hold on, Sailor.” You take a rag and brush him off. You turn him around and wipe the rouge dirt on his cheeks as well while you’re at it. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re not sick after all of this.”

Wind sticks his tongue out. “Whatever mom.”

You roll your eyes and put the rag away. When you look back at Wind, you see that his cheeks have gone pink and that his ears are pinned down. He suddenly refuses to meet your eyes. The change startles you. What happened? You bend a bit to look him in the eye. “Wind?”

“I’m going!” He turns on his heels away from you and dashes off to where you know Wild and Legend were doing the laundry.

You tilt your head in question. Strange. What came over him? You turn to Warrior with an eyebrow raised to sell your unvoiced question.

Warrior snickers and covers his mouth with his hand.

Well that doesn’t answer your silent question at all! What are you missing?! You level Warrior with an incredulous look. “What? What’s so funny, Mr. Chuckles?”

Warrior meets your gaze easily with a charming smile. The laughter in his eyes is borderline obnoxious. “Really? Did you miss what he said?”

“Wind?” You say for mere clarification. “I happened to be a bit preoccupied at the time if you missed it. Poor kid covered himself with nothing but dirt and didn’t even care. I’d hate for his clothes to stain.”

Warrior snickers even more but doesn’t comment on your words. “He called you mom.”

You pause. 

He did, didn’t he? Huh… You heard for sure, but it just seemed like the typical teenage response for someone who was being a bit bratty. You can recall the amount of times you’ve done that yourself on a friend or over doting well meaning acquaintance. Heck, even sometimes to your own mother. But that was usually less funny than if you did it with other people.

You had thought that Wind was being sarcastic and didn’t want to bother with acknowledging it. Some battles just aren’t worth it. And you knew it would have been well deserved anyway.

However his reaction wasn't what you thought it would be. He looked embarrassed and awkward. He hadn’t meant to call you that at all.

You know that your silence doesn’t read well while you’re thinking but if Warrior hadn’t pointed it out, you fear how long it would have taken you to figure it out.

You cough, feeling your own cheeks go a bit pink as the realization washes over you. “I see.”

“Do you?” Warrior smirks and crosses his arms. “No shame in it if I need to further spell it out for you.”

“You have something in your teeth.” You say instead.

Warrior perks up and instantly goes looking for the mirror shield.

You try to keep from laughing, wondering how or if you should bother bringing up Wind’s little slip of the tongue. He called you mom- he’s probably mortified. 

You rub your knuckles against your forehead. Ok. This can’t stand. You’ll talk to him. Maybe not immediately but you don’t want Wind to shrink into himself and lose his confidence.

You wait until after dinner.

Instead of waiting for the right moment to make your move, you decide to simply sit yourself next to Wind once the boys had gone around amusing themselves by the fire. The resident pirate was moments from joining in but your presence seems to have embarrassed him once more.

So he’s also still thinking of his little slip up.

You tilt your head, trying to appear nonchalant. “...Everything good, Wind? Did you like dinner?”

He nods. 

You wait for him  to say something but he struggles to meet your eyes even now. His cheeks go pink again and you’re forced to think of a solution on the fly. You told yourself you were trying to avoid this! This is not avoiding it!

“Wind-”

“I’m sorry.” He says instead, rubbing the back of his neck. The poor boy finally turns his head to you. “I didn’t mean to call you that. It just came out.”

You sigh. Ok. He beat you to it. This is fine.

You sling your arm around his shoulders and ruffle his hair for the heck of it, trying to keep the energy casual. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even notice.”

Wind turns toward you with wide, almost hopeful eyes. “Really?”

You nod. “Granted, I heard it, but I thought you were being sarcastic at first. I didn’t see a problem with it until Warrior decided to make it a problem.”

“Warrior?” Wind tilts his head, looking over to where the Captain was losing a card game to Four. It’s not even a close game. Four is wiping the floor with him. “What did he do?”

“In his words, he spelled it out for me.” You grumble. “He was laughing that it went over my head so easily.”

“...Oh.”

“...”

“...”

“I hope Four wins that game.”

“Warrior always loses anyway.”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair again. “You ok? Feel better?”

Wind laughs a little bit but nods.

You also feel a bit better, but there’s one thing that you want to ask now that you’ve thought about it. “I don’t smother you boys, do I? I’m not that bad, am I?”

“No, you are.” Wind answers honestly. “...But it’s nice.”

“You think so?” You say, ignoring the mild sting of his blunt honesty.

Wind nods again. “I think… that having someone to keep us clean and someone to make sure we’re all taken care of is helping us a lot…” You watch him think for a moment longer. Wind bites his cheek. “It… actually would’ve been nice to have someone give me snacks when I was on my adventure.”

You smile. “Happy to help.”