#and he gets offended and confused every time the conversation comes up

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Someone makes a choked, shocked sound. Someone else yelps. It occurs to Ace, somewhere between the howling in his ears and the ache in his lungs and the taste of salt and iron flooding his mouth, that this is probably pretty surprising for his brothers to witness. Maybe even downright upsetting.

The thing is, Ace was wading into the jungles on his own as early as four years old. Dadan taught him how to do basic shit like talk and wipe his ass, but he honestly didn't have a ton of human interaction before meeting Sabo. And the thing about Sabo was that he had more than enough human interaction for the both of them. Ace learned some manners from Makino, but while Sabo was still around, there wasn't really any reason to get... good, at people.

But then Sabo died, and Ace needed to teach himself not only to talk his way out of trouble but also how to be the nice brother, how to treat Luffy with the softness he needed and deserved, how to gentle his hands and his voice and his words. So Ace did that, because he needed to, and it turned out to actually be pretty useful for dealing with people when he wasn't actively looking for a fight. So he stuck with it.

Which is all to say that by the time he'd joined up with Whitebeard, Ace was as close to tame as he had ever been. Almost downright domesticated.

Ace snaps his head to the side, putting some real momentum into it, heaving with all his weight until something tears. When he drops to his feet he springs right back up again, lunging. He spits out his mouthful as he goes, lets his jaw drop open.

The thing is, Ace is a child of the wilderness. He raised himself among that wilderness, and then he raised Luffy among that wilderness. He's a son of the jungle at heart, no matter how good he's gotten at pretending to be a person.

The sea-stone cuffs are chaffing his wrists. He feels tired and heavy, but he doesn't need his fire to be dangerous. Doesn't even need his hands.

Teeth find an artery. Body-hot blood sprays his face as Ace bites down, lock-jawed and snarling. Rears back and rips.

Another marine goes down. Ace spits out a chunk of the man's throat and is already rounding on a third. Notices, with a vague annoyance, that he's gonna need to find a toothpick -- there's a scrap of tendon or something caught in his teeth.

Mmm. Boar. They had pork for dinner, ah, the other night? Three days ago? Something like that, but it doesn't taste the same as wild boar does. And anyway, meat on the Moby is always overcooked. Ace is allowed to eat blue steak, but everybody always yells at him when he tries to steal bites of poultry or Sea King or whatever else while it's still tender and bleeding. This fight is giving Ace a real craving!

Duck. Lunge. Bite down, hard, thunder of a rabbit-quick pulse against his tongue, bulge of tender flesh against his soft palate. Iron and salt in his mouth.

Fear has a flavor. It is bitter and acrid, reminiscent of char, and Ace hadn't liked it much when he was young and still learning how to hunt. It stiffens up the meat, too, makes it kinda chewy. Somewhere along the line, he'd acquired a taste for it, though. He still marks it as a point of pride, his ability to hunt and kill prey without it ever knowing he was there, roasting something that is tender-sweet and gives easily under his teeth -- but the taste of fear isn't so bad either. Sometimes he even prefers it, gets a craving for it. Like wild boar, he hasn't had it in a while. Maybe he'll chase down his own dinner tonight.

Ace rears back. Muscle fibers split, skin stretches until it snaps. A heave, and a body crumples to the ground, gurgling. He gnaws kind of idly on his mouthful while he catches his breath, snorting blood out of his nose and straining his ears. Sounds like the fight's over, then.

Another lump of trachea gets spat into the dirt. Ace turns to face his brothers, counting heads -- good, it looks like nobody got hurt too bad, everybody is still standing! He grins. Ah, they're all pretty pale though, that's a little bit concerning, he hopes nobody's in shock. He learned from Marco that that can happen to anybody, even if they've been in a whole lot of fights.

"Hey!" Ace chirps. "Is everybody okay?" His wrists are killing him. Also, he really needs a shower. He's got blood in his ears, how the hell did that happen? But first he jogs over to where the others are all standing, clumped together, still just. Kinda staring at him.

Okay. Concerning. "You guys alright?" He asks again, lower. "Is anybody hurt? What happened?"

"Ace, man," Deuce says. His voice sounds kind of shaky. He drags a hand through his hair, fucking it up even worse than it already is. "What the fuck was that?"

[lvl1l1]

hello!!!! i loveee ur fics especially the sleeping on the couch one 🥺 can i please request a funny scenario of the lads boys surprise visiting the reader's apartment but we slam the door in their face because we're not "presentable" (bare face, hair up in a messy bun, etc) LMAO i hope that made sense it was funny in my head

I HOPE U HAVE A GREAT DAYYYY ❤️

LaDS men when you slam the door in their face

pairings: Xavier, Rafayel, Caleb, Zayne, Sylus x F!Reader

content: fluff, early relationships(yet their devotion knows no bounds)

a/n: i loved this idea, did write this while severely sleep deprived and haven’t checked for mistakes yet, hope you like it anyway

It was finally your day off. You’d been working tirelessly these past few days, you knew you deserved to just laze off now. You, an oversized hoodie, the couch and your comfort show were the only guests invited to this party. So imagine your surprise when a knock resounded on your door, your boyfriend standing on the other side, seeing you in all your bed-rotting glory.

Xavier

Xavier’s face lit up as soon as he saw you.

He knew it was your day off, he thought it would be a great time to spend some time with you and decided to head straight down to your apartment.

But before he could even muster up a greeting, your face was replaced with the door.

He blinked in confusion, unsure of what caused that reaction.

Did he upset you? Did you not want to see him?

As he raised his fist to knock on your door again, your voice came through, slightly muffled,

“I’m sorry, Xavier! I don’t look my best right now.”

Oh, so that’s what this was about.

“You look great. Even if you don’t think so, you could never be anything less than beautiful in my eyes.”

You leaned against the door, blushing at his voice, glad that he couldn’t see you right now.

“That’s… really sweet of you.”

“It’s the truth. Now, do you think we could have this heartfelt conversation face to face?”

You hesitated for a moment. To be fair, he wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was also your neighbour. It was just a matter of time before he saw you embrace the grease on a midnight snack run.

With an apologetic smile, you opened the door again and you immediately noticed the soft look on his face.

“Thank you.”

He looked at you with pure love in his eyes and it made you feel much better about your current state.

You stepped aside, letting him come in,

“I was just planning on slacking off today.”

His smile widened at that,

“Sounds like an ideal day. Room for one more?”

“For you, always.”

Rafayel

He barely had time to look at you, before he was back eye-to-eye with the door.

He was confused and slightly worried that he had offended you somehow.

Unsure of his next course of action, he looked around the hallway, making sure no one else saw.

“Did you forget you left the stove on or something, cutie?”

His words were casual but his voice showed betrayed him, showing his concern.

You hastily opened the door enough for him to see one of your eyes, leaning into the slit,

“I wasn’t expecting you today, otherwise i would’ve-“

Rafayel, ever the charming man, seemed to pick up on what was happening,

“Oh, cutie. I’m sorry for ambushing you like this but you don’t need to hide.”

The affection in his eyes made you lower your guard, loosening your grip on the door handle,

“I want to see every side of you. Besides, you always look like a work of art.”

He always managed to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside,

“Braid my hair for me and you will be granted entranced.”

The artist laughed at that, nodding his head approvingly,

“You’ve got yourself a deal!”

Caleb

Caleb was excited for your reaction to seeing him but his thoughts came to a halt, when you opened the door.

He felt like the breath was knocked out of his lungs, moments like these made him feel like the divine maybe hadn’t abandoned him, after all.

Considering himself the luckiest man alive, getting to see you like this again, when you were relaxed, looking like an actual angel.

His inner monologue quickly came to a stop again, as he was met with the door.

Astonishment took over his features, as he took a moment to collect himself, before he called out to you,

“Everything all right?”

You bit your lip, holding back a groan, mumbling something barely audible to him,

“Caleb, your timing couldn’t be worse. I look like a disheveled cat!”

His lips curled up in amusement, liking your analogy.

“Oh, please. We’ve seen each other in much worse states. Need I remind you of how I used to hold your hair while you’d throw up when you were sick?”

You ripped the door back open at that, glaring at your boyfriend,

“Watch it, plane boy.”

The charming laugh that came next, had you weak in the knees.

You walked deeper into your apartment, leaving Caleb to catch the hint and follow in after you.

Zayne

Zayne’s usually impassive face sparked up momentarily, as he laid his eyes on you for just a second.

As soon as you realised who was standing opposite of you, he was met right back with the door.

He cleared his throat after a beat of silence passed.

Just as he raised his fist to knock again, regret slipped into your mind, as you quickly opened the door again, just enough for him to see your face.

You two made eye contact, his fist raised and your cheeks getting squished lightly in the crack of the door,

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Zayne lowered his hand again, not pressing you on the matter but you could still tell he was confused,

“Zayne, I look like shit right now, I’m sorry.”

His face remained unchanged, to the untrained eye, you knew he was taken aback by what you had said by the way he lifted his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Do you take me as the kind of man, who cares about something like this?”

After some internal contemplation, you stepped back, letting the door open further and allowing Zayne to come in.

He didn’t say anything else, not commenting on what you had said, what you looked like, nothing.

He was treating you completely normally, because well, this was normal.

Or at least he was trying to make it normal, wanting you to feel comfortable enough around him to the point that you wouldn’t care what you looked like when you were with him.

You were thinking of how to express your gratitude for his sweet behaviour, when he beat you to the punch,

“Maybe for next time, don’t slam the door in my face again, please.”

Crossing your arms behind your back, you attempted to feign innocence.

He laughed, smiling.

He didn’t look mad or disappointed at all, maybe confused by your initial reaction but that didn’t last long.

Zayne could adapt quickly and why not use that as a way to keep you happy.

Whatever energy you needed him to match, he was down.

Just, please don’t slam the door on his face again.

Sylus

Sylus was wearing his usual smug grin, which for once, was wiped right off as you slammed the door in his face.

His hair getting tousled from how fast you swung that door close.

It was a shame you couldn’t see the dumbfounded look on his face, contemplating what caused a reaction like that.

“That was quite rude, sweetie.”

You pushed yourself off the door, that you were leaning against, realisation of what you had just done settling in.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?! I would’ve gotten ready.”

You almost missed the sigh he let out,

“Ready for what? We can just spend the day here.”

“Ready, as in presentable! I don’t want you to see me looking like a mess.”

Your voice got quieter at the end there and Sylus’s gaze softened again, understanding what this was about,

“You don’t need to worry about superficial things like that. You could never look like a “mess” to me.”

He was making this really hard.

Well, if he was here to stay, he’d see you like this eventually anyway, right?

You decided to step out of your comfort zone, opening the door with far more force than necessary.

You two were looking at each other for a moment, his gaze carried the same softness as his voice when speaking to you.

Sylus didn’t make a move, giving you the option to change your mind and tell him to leave, after all.

But you didn’t, telling him to come inside, teasingly saying that it was too late now anyway,

“You’ve seen me like this now, there’s no leaving anymore, Sy. In every sense of the word.”

His laugh felt like music to your ears.

[lacelottie]

art plotting on you (he’s so girlie).

art who.. first saw you in the crowd at one of his stanford matches. tashi brought you along after the two of you bonded over being the only two intelligent people in your philosophy lecture and decided to hang out outside of class. he nearly choked on his water when his gaze flickered over the crowd and caught you during his break between sets. you had to have been the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. the way your hair framed your face? the way the sun made your skin glow? your laugh? he was sure he was a goner when he started to look around for cupid and where she could’ve shot that damn arrow from to make him fall this hard.

art who.. lost his match, naturally, as he was too busy catching glimpses of you and not focused enough on the rally between him and mr. who cares from notre dame. both you and tashi came down to congratulate him on a game well (poorly) played and so tashi could properly introduce the two of you.

art who.. felt like he was in a trance the moment he heard your voice. the way you said your name. he stared at you like an idiot and could only hope that blistering california sun would cover up the fact that your hand in his was the cause of the flush working its way up his body.

art who.. studied tashi’s calendar, memorizing when you both had class and ate lunch together so that he could conveniently get lunch around the same time and sit with you both. you welcomed him with open arms, wanting to know more about him and possibly be friends since you didn’t have many on campus. but tashi saw through his attempts, knowing that he was acting the same way with you that he was with her back when patrick and tashi had started dating.

art who.. started to catch you around campus, picking up small conversations with you whenever he could and remembering every detail that you’d share. he damn near wrote down every fact he knew about you in his notes, from you mother being sick to that one time you slipped down the stairs in school, making sure to go over them every time he left the dorm in hopes of finding and striking up a conversation with you.

art who.. made patrick practically hate you without even knowing you because he talked about you so much. cutting him off after his fifteen minute long rants about you with “dude, seriously? just ask her out already. or stop fucking talking about her.”

art who.. practically avoided you for a week out of anxiety while he pestered tashi constantly to help him come up with the perfect date idea. when you noticed his absence in what would be your everyday run ins, you consulted tashi, wondering if there was anything you had done to offend him. art nearly cried when tashi reported back to him that you thought you had scared him away, deciding to rush his plan and ask you that friday instead of a few weeks ahead.

art who.. practically cornered you in front of your dorm building, clearly out of breath after running around campus to try and find you. “i’m— you didn’t scare me away,” he started, his face beet red as he tried to catch his breath. “i’m just an idiot. i really— fuck.” he turned away for a moment, looking away from your stunned expression of confusion as he clenched onto the tulips he bought for you, remembering they were your favorite flower. he eventually got his thoughts together, turning around once more and looking at you with a nervous smile on his face as he finally confessed his feelings and asked you on a date, holding out the bouquet for you to take.

art who.. was genuinely shocked when you had accepted the flowers and his ask for a date, reciprocating his feelings with a smile. the flush that he had just gotten rid of creeping right back up his neck, smiling and nodding like an idiot as you invited him into your dorm building to hang out in the lounge together. he had to remind himself to thank tashi for practically interviewing you while he stayed away to (hopefully, no— successfully) make you his.

this is just my mind rambling and me typing it down at random but thank you for 50 followers <3 halfway to 100 i 🫀you all !!!!!!

[torncwpid]

Tea is a Love Language (apparently)

Summary: Reader being absolutely oblivious to Ghost's feelings (and Soap facepalming)

Cw: gn!sergeant!reader, just a little drabble that I might expand on someday

Word count: 774

You were a sergeant at TF141, and you were very close with the other soldiers - getting along just fine and always playing around with them.

Except for Ghost.

And that was fine, you told yourself. He was closed off with pretty much everyone, and you were new there anyway. It was only expected. He would come around eventually. It’s not like your situation was hostile, after all. There was mutual respect and a somewhat amenable relationship between you. Just because he wasn’t friendly didn’t mean he hated you.

But oh, you were so very wrong.

There you were, making tea for yourself in the common kitchen while trying to keep up with the conversation Soap and Gaz were having nearby. They were mostly bickering about their football teams, but the conversation was entertaining nonetheless. You saw someone approaching in your peripheral vision, and judging by the silence and size of the figure, you easily knew who it was.

"Lt.”

A nod and a grunt is all you get in response.

“D’you want me to make you tea? I mean, it’s almost 16 already. You usually have an Earl Grey. I can prepare it for you since I’m already here.”

Another grunt that sounds like a “yeah.” Seems like you’re getting somewhere.

Turning around to grab a cup and start boiling the water, you’re met with a knowing, smug look plastered on Soap’s face.

“What?”

“He’s lettin’ ye make his tea now?” The confused look on your face must’ve been evident, because he keeps talking. “Means he trusts you, that — Ghost doesn’t let anyone near his bloody kettle.”

You shrug. “It’s jus’ tea. Maybe he doesn’t let you near it ’cause of your kitchen skills.”

Soap lets out a dramatic gasp, one hand flying to his chest like you’d offended his entire family. “Tha’s rich, comin’ from the one who nearly set toast on fire last week.”

“That toaster’s ancient. If anything, I’m the victim here.” You roll your eyes and go back to prepping the tea, unbothered.

Gaz snorts behind you, and you hear the unmistakable clink of him putting his mug down. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”

You look at him now. “About what?”

Soap looks like he’s just been handed the juiciest bit of gossip and adds, without missing a beat, “About Ghost.” He’s got the mischievous smile of a kid who’s about to tell his parents’ biggest secret.

Your eyes roll before settling back down as you dunk the teabag with the slow precision of someone pointedly ignoring whatever drama is brewing.

“He doesn’t let anyone make his tea,” Gaz chimes in, voice pitched like he’s trying to help, but there’s mischief in his words. “He’s a control freak about it. Swear. Exact temp, steep time, no sugar, splash of milk. The one time I tried? He took the mug, dumped it, and made his own.”

“…Maybe he was jus’ feelin’ extra mean that day,” you say finally, turning back to stir the tea.

Soap groans, full-body, like your denial is physically painful to him. “Christ, ye really don’ see it?”

You shrug and walk off with the cup of Earl Grey in your hands, prepared just the way he likes it, which wasn’t difficult to figure out after months of watching him make it the exact same way every day. Walking into the common area, you spot the lieutenant and shove the mug into his hands with a quiet, “Careful. It’s hot.” And he takes it without a word, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.

Warm, deliberate.

And still, it flies right over your head.

You linger for a moment. Not enough to be weird, just… long enough to see if he approves of the way you prepared his tea. Taking his low hum, quickly followed by a second sip, as a good enough sign, you head back to the kitchen.

You blink. “See? Nothin’ weird.”

Soap throws his hands up with a groan while Gaz shakes his head.

“Unbelievable.”

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

Tag list:

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[softspiderling]

if you can't take it (then get back) | j.v

summary:

“You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

OR; Your first meeting with the Crown Princes leaves much to be desired.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: jace is a classist guys, idk what to tell you, minimal violence, reader is a dragonseed but no descriptors were used <3 also OBVIOUSLY jace and baela are not betrothed in this fic

word count: 3,9k

author's note: yo to the anon who requested this like a bajillion years ago… i’m sorry it took me so long😔 thanks to my lil goblin master @eldrith for beta reading and being the best sister wife ever🫵🏼🧌

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Silverwing. What a beautiful name,” you whispered as you gently stroked your dragon’s snout, Silverwing pressing into your hand as you stood in the middle of the meadow in your new dress.

When you had gone into the forest to pick flowers for your mother’s grave, the last thing you had expected was to leave said forest on dragonback, soaring through the skies, a dream come true. It hadn’t taken long before another dragon quickly joined your sides, its rider introducing himself as Addam of Hull, telling you to follow him to Dragonstone.

Before long, you had pledged your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra and were offered a place to sleep, a position by her side. Only two nights prior, you had been slaving away at a small tavern on Driftmark, not knowing if you’d something to eat, now you’d never go to bed hungry again.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon.”

“She doesn’t understand you.”

You whirled around, only to see Prince Jacaerys stalk his way up to you, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“My Prince,” you uttered, curtsying. You had heard great things about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and you felt giddy to be fighting alongside him for his mother.

Jacaerys came to a stop next to you, giving you a glare before he turned to Silverwing. You took a pause, not having expected to be rejected so brazenly, but you swallowed your pride, turning to Silverwing.

“She’s a beauty, is she not?”

You looked at Jacaerys only to see him roll his eyes and you felt a flash of irritation.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he repeated, as if you were hard of hearing. “We speak to dragons in High Valyrian.”

“Oh, Her Grace had mentioned that, but unfortunately I have not gotten around to-“

“Soves, Silverwing.”

Jacaerys seemed unperturbed as he interrupted you rudely, leaving you at a loss for words. Silverwing let out a growl, pushing her snout against your hand one last time before flapping her wings and taking to the skies. You watched as she danced through the sky, a look of awe on your face before you turned back to the Prince, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. Surely you were reading this whole conversation wrong. From what you have heard, the crown prince was an exceptional man and no one had ever uttered a bad word about him, or held any grievances.

“I apologize my Prince, if I somehow offended you.”

Jacaerys let out a laugh, but it held no warmth.

“You can refer to pure theft as an offense, yes.”

“Theft?” You echoed, confused. “You must have mistaken me, I am not a thief, I’m-“

“I know exactly who you are,” Jacaerys sniped. “You stole a dragon of House Targaryen.”

Aye, it seemed like you read the conversation exactly right.

“I did not steal Silverwing. I claimed her- she claimed me.”

“She claimed you,” Jacaerys repeated with a scoff. “You are a common born girl, not fit to be a dragon rider.”

Every ounce of grace and manner left your body at the tone of his voice, your eyes sparkling with fury.

“Pardon?”

“It is not your place to claim a dragon,” he hissed out and you sneered at him.

“Oh, my apologies, my Prince,” you exclaimed, voice so biting it was dripping with vitriol as you bowed your head “I did not mean to step on your toes. Let me just unclaim the dragon!”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at you, his annoyance clear as day.

“That shows how much understanding you truly lack,” he said and you groaned, throwing your hands in the air.

“I know dragons cannot be unclaimed, I was trying to make a point!”

Jacaerys scoffed, turning his head away. He looked at Silverwing flying in the skies before he turned back to you.

“You kid yourself thinking this gives you any meaning to your life.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, your lips parted in shock. You had heard a lot of insulting words in the years of your life, but never have they been so belittling.

“You do not understand the meaning of claiming a dragon, nor do you deserve it,” Jacaerys bit out, continuing. “You will never live up to the worth of a dragonrider. You are merely a tool in a war you have no control over. You’re a commoner, a lowborn,” he said, his face contorted in anger, stepping closer to you. “A mongrel.”

SMACK!!

Your hand slapped across his face, a reaction to his words that was mostly reflex than anything else, and your eyes widened in shock as as you had realized what just happened, a gasp escaping your lips as you reeled back.

Fuck, did you really just slap the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms across the face like a common beggar?

Jacaerys’ hand flew to his reddened cheek, his lips parted as you stared at each other in shock. You were frozen, not daring to move, fearing the Kingsguard would step out of the shadows any moment to strike you down in retaliation.

When you realized that no knight would come, you spared one glance at Jacaerys before turning to leave, quickly fleeing the scene of the crime.

You had retreated into your chambers after the absolute horror of a first impression. Not even Addam’s invitation for supper had beckoned you out of the room; you were sick to the stomach imagining what kind of punishment Jacaerys was planning.

The glass on the window was cool against your forehead. You had sought refuge at the small nook, your eyes in the sky, watching Silverwing fly through the skies, longing in your chest. Feeling the wind in your hair would make you feel better, you had no doubt, but you didn’t want to anger the Prince even further. A knock on the door made you startle, and with a small sigh, you went to open it. Ser Erryk was stood in front of your chambers, inclining his head.

“My lady,” he said. “The Queen has asked to see you.”

Fear ran down your back at his words. It happened. Prince Jacaerys told her that you had laid your hands on him and she was about to cast you out.

This was too good to be true anyway, it was bound to end. You had always known your temper would be your ruin. You’d just assumed it would be a patron in the tavern striking you down for cursing him out, not the Queen taking your head because you put your hands on her heir.

As you followed the Ser Erryk to the Queen’s study, you wondered how she would end your life. Make Silverwing eat you alive? Burn you? Take your head with a sword? All the options made your insides crawl, and you tried to form some sort of coherent apology in your head, but not a single one seemed sufficient.

As you paused in the door way of the study, Ser Erryk announced you, before leaving. You curtsied, your head low. Queen Rhaenyra gave you a smile, extending her hand to the empty chair in front of her.

“Please, sit.”

Her behavior confused you, you had imagined her angry, furious even. Maybe she was trying to lull you into a false sense of security before putting you in chains. Nervously, you took a seat, dropping your hands in your lap.

“How have you been faring?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft. “I couldn’t help but notice you have withdrawn yourself to the chambers.”

You bit down on your lips, unsure on what to say; you knew it was rude not to speak when asked a question, especially by the queen, and you were desperately trying to come up with words, any at this point, but your mind was blank.

“I thought you would be dragonback. Jace has told me you have a formidable connection to Silverwing.”

Your eyes snapped up at her words, your blood chilling.

“He has?”

Was that before or after you slapped him?

Rhanyra smiled at you, her eyes crinkling. “You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

You lifted your eyes to meet her gaze, your silence answer enough and Rhaenyra sighed softly, laying her hand on yours.

“I hope you can excuse the Prince’s unwelcoming behavior. The war is a heavy toll and he has taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the responsibilities.”

Your lips parted in surprise and you leaned back in your chair, giving a demure nod.

“Of course your Grace,” you said softly. “I cannot imagine what the Prince has been going through”

“I hope his words will not hold you back from further strengthening the bond with your mount,” Rhaenyra continued. “It is of utmost importance that you study as much of what the grandmaester can teach you.”

Ducking your head, you nodded and Rhaenyra pulled her hand back, effectively dismissing you. The chair scraped against the stone floor as you stood and Rhaenyra turned from you to look outside, the skies blue.

“I have been told this time of day is perfect for riding.”

You curtsied, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of your dress as you exited the study, suddenly energized after having talked to the Queen. Your feet automatically carried you back into your chambers, but instead of returning to wallowing, you pulled your riding gear out of the closet, unlacing your dress. With quick strides, you walked down to the dragonmount and within moments, you were on Silverwing’s back, soaring through the air.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, just as you had imagined, and it seemed like all the burden was lifting off your shoulders the longer you were in the skies. You leaned down, brushing your gloved hands against Silverwing’s neck when she let out a snarl, suddenly changing her directions. Puzzled, you peered forward, trying to see what caught her attentions when you saw a smaller dragon at the edge of the island of Driftmark. Its scales were green, a burnt orange and your chest tightened a little when you recognized it as Vermax, Jacaerys’ mount. Letting out a small sigh, you tightened Silverwing’s reigns, pushing your legs into her side, urging her downwards. Before long, Silverwing landed on the soft grass, spreading her wings so you could climb down. Your landing on the ground was anything but graceful, still not quite used to getting off tall heights but if Jacaerys had noticed, he had the courtesy not to comment on it.

Tugging your gloves off, you slowly approached Jacaerys. He was overlooking the harbor of Driftmark. You had never seen it so crowded, with ships and people alike. Nervously, you glanced over to him. Apologies had never come easy to you.

“Good day to ride.”

You regretted your words as soon as they passed your lips, wincing. Out of every words you knew, you chose to say that? Jacaerys shifted on his feet next to you, turning his head slightly.

“Aye.”

He did not speak more, but you found yourself unable to blame him. You just struck him across the face a day ago and now you were talking about the weather? Behind you, Silverwing was growing restless, stretching her wings with a whine as Vermax eyed her, letting out a rumbling growl. An uncomfortable silence settled over you and Jacaerys, and you wrung your hands.

“I was out of line-“ “I apologize for-“

The both of you started at the same time, before stopping again. Your eyes met his briefly, your cheeks flushing.

“Please, you go ahead,” you said quickly him but Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, I fell into your word.”

“I insist, my Prince.”

Jacaerys paused at the honorific, before he nodded, his gaze trained at the ground. He let out a deep breath, raising his head again. “I am sorry for lashing out at you. I regret my words deeply. They came from a place of anger, not honesty.”

You blinked at him, stunned. An apology was the last thing you had expected to come out of the Prince’s mouth. He had no reason to apologize to you, you were of lower rank. Something you had thought he would hold over you.

“Anger… Towards me?”

Jacaerys laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Not truly, no… You had no hand in your parentage, I cannot fault you for that,” he paused, turning his head away, blinking quickly. “And I cannot fault myself for that, either.”

He seemed lost in thought, and you weren’t quite sure what he was insinuating, but you decided against pressing the matter. The atmosphere was still fragile, you didn’t want to risk overstepping.

“I am sorry I struck you,” you said, glancing at him. The cheek you had struck still bore a faint red, which was not surprising, as Jacaerys had fairly pale skin, apart from the small freckles dusted across his nose. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t yelling at you.

“Oh,” Jacaerys chuckled, his finger brushing over his cheek, like he had forgotten about it. “I guess I deserved that. I called you some… Less than savory things.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You have the temper of a dragon.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth. Jacaerys gave you a boyish grin, so different to the Prince you had met the day before.

This.

This is who you had been expecting.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I guess fire and blood runs through both of our veins,” Jacaerys said and you glanced at him, a look of understanding passing through the both of you, your dragons behind you settling down.

“Lykirī, not lykiri.”

“That’s what I said.”

You were sitting on the floor of the library, your back leaning against the bookshelf. Several books on High Valyrian were scattered on the floor around you and if Grandmaester Gerardys were here, he’d keel over and die immediately.

But he wasn’t here. It was just Jace.

Jace.

It was maddening to think that only a moon turn ago you had struck him across the face and now you were sitting together like old friends.

“That is not what you said and you know it,” Jace mused, his hair falling into his eyes as he leaned over a book, before handing it over to you. “Here.”

Your finger tips brushed when you took the book from him and you try to not let it affect you as much as you poured over the book, even thought it felt like his touch left a scorching mark on your skin.

It would be most unwise to let affection distract you, least of all now and least of all for someone like him. Who knew what may come to pass by the next moon or even the morrow? Even if the war’s end should come, the Queen would never allow you near him. You may serve as one of her dragonriders, but you were far from worthy to even be considered as the lady wife of her heir.

“Lyckiri,” you tried again and Jace groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That was worse than before!”

“Ugh,” you whined, closing the massive book with a thud. “I have been studying since we broke fast this morning. I am unable to learn any more words.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Is that allowed?” you asked and Jace only quirked a grin at you, getting to his feet.

“I’m the crown prince,” he replied, offering you his hand. “Surely no one would take issue with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you took his hand, letting him help you up. The two of you languidly walked outside the library and you could feel the tension seeping from your limbs as soon as the first rays of sunshine hit your skin. You let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut and you stretched your arms out. Jace was chuckling next to you, and when you peered an eye open at him, he was watching you bemusedly.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you sighed softly, wiggling your fingers at him. “You cannot tell me you don’t enjoy the sun and the fresh air, my Prince.”

He quirked a grin at you, dipping his head. “You don’t have to be so formal when it is just the two of us,” he said gently. “You can call me by my given name, if you wish.”

“Me, a low born calling the crown Prince by his given name? What would the council think?” you jested and Jace snorted, very unprincely.

“But,” you started, your voice softer. “Thank you, Jace.”

Jace smiled at youtaking a breath, before exhaling.

“Listen-“

“… is that a dragon?”

Jace whirled around into the direction you were facing, peering into the sky. The sun was shining directly into your eyes, and you squinted them, surely it cannot be a dragon. It was too small. Beside you, Jace blanched, the color draining out of his face.

“That’s Stormcloud. Aegon’s dragon.”

The small dragon seemed exhausted, his wings flapping slowly in the air, almost as if it was dragging itself to the earth of the island, until it finally landed, the small boy ontop of him clambering down. His hair was a stark blonde, one of Jace’s younger brothers.

“Jace!”

“Aegon?”

Jace sprinted towards his younger brother, who met him halfway, taking the boy into his arms.

“What happened? Where’s Viserys?”

Aegon’s eyes filled with tears, and he was tripping over his words as he tried to explain. Your heart ached for him.

“There were ships. They attacked us. I only managed to flee because of Stormcloud. Viserys-“

The blonde boy hid his face in his chest, his small body racking with sobs and Jace wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, his wide eyes flickering to you.

“I-“

“Go,” you urged him. “You have to find your mother.”

With a curt nod, though hesitant, Jace walked back into the Keep with his brother in his arms, leaving you standing in the grass while the dragonkeepers took care of Stormcloud, who seemed content enough to curl up on the warm grass. You didn’t want to imagine what the young dragon and his rider had been through, Aegon seemed inconsolable.

It was much later when you found Jace again, his shoulders tense and his strides quick. His forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes unfocused, so much that he jumped when you touched his arm gently.

“Is everything alright?” you asked him, voice soft.

Jace shook his head, his face pained, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“The Triarchy. Their fleet attacked the ship Aegon and Viserys were on while they were traveling on the Gullet. They have Viserys.”

“What?”

Jace sniffed, turning away from you, his head held high. You wanted to offer him comfort, at the same time, you didn’t want to overstep, so you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting Jace compose himself. He exhaled deeply, before letting out an annoyed growl, shaking his head.

“I have to go.”

Go?

“You can’t possibly mean the Gullet.”

“What else would I mean?” Jace snapped at you; and for the first time since you have made up with him, he reminded you of the Prince that had made you feel so small in the beginning. You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you, but you took a step back, mostly out of impulse. Jace took notice, sighing softly and his shoulders deflated.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to raise my voice at you,” he said quietly. You nodded, swallowing thickly, freezing when Jace reached out to take your hands.

“There has to be something I can do. It’s my brother,” He said, his voice breaking and his grip tightened briefly. “I can’t lose another.”

“What if I go?” you blurted out; Jace looked appalled at your suggestion. You paused, before sighing. “Me and the other dragonseeds. We should go.”

Your own words terrified you, even though you knew it was the smartest decision. Neither Rhaenyra nor Jace could go, the future of the realm laid on their shoulders. You and the other dragonriders were expendable and you knew that, but Jace still seemed hesitant.

“Let me go. I’m sure her Grace will agree,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m merely a tool in a war I have no control over, remember?”

Jace couldn’t help but let out a laugh at you using his own words against him, shaking his head.

“This is why her Grace brought us in, let us do this.”

You knew you had persuaded him already, his eyes downcast, focused on your hands.

“You can’t even say lykirī.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, but there was a faint smile on his lips, so you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Lykirī,” you said, the word suddenly rolling off your tongue easily. “You happy now?”

Jace agreed reluctantly with a small nod, and you squeezed his hand one last time, before letting go, your skin missing the warmth his hands were providing.

“Be careful, don’t fly too low,” Rhaenyra said, her arms clasped. Her voice was even, but you could tell that she was tense, fearing for her son’s life. “I am grateful for your service.”

She looked at all the dragonseeds, before nodding her head, turning on her heel to leave the dragonmount, but Jace lingered behind. Addam was the first to mount Seasmoke, then Hugh. As the dragonkeepers beckoned you forward, you called out for Silverwing. You glanced back at Jace, who was already looking at you and you swallowed thickly, pressing your lips together. What if this was the last time you’d ever get to see him?

Silverwing let out a small grumble as she settled against the dock. You took a step towards her, hesitantly, before you turned on your heel, running towards Jace.

“What’s wro-?”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his words as you cut him off by pressing your lips against his and he stilled in shock before he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Silverwing let out a deafening growl and you pulled away, your cheeks red.

“I-”

“Don’t,” Jace said, inhaling sharply. “Tell me when you come back.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face made you swallowed your words. With a last squeeze of his hand you stepped away from him, mounting Silverwing.

“Lykirī, Silverwing,” you said gently, as she whined softly. “I’m sorry. Soves.”

Silverwing flew out of the dragonmount, and you barely managed to catch one last glimpse of Jace before you were in the skies, joining Hugh and Addam, the latter taking the lead. Despite riding the fiercest creatures on earth, you couldn’t help but feel dread all over. It didn’t ease the closer you got to Gullet, but you tried to stay strong as the cold winds whipped you in the face. Your stomach dropped when the clouds dissipated over the Gullet, revealing an entire fleet of hostile ships across the ocean.

Seven hells, you thought, your breath stocking in your throat, I should’ve told him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: sorry for the ambiguous ending😔pls leave some kindhearted feedback 🫵🏼🩵

[witherby]

i need more damian x mer!reader plssss😞😞😞 im literally OBSESSED with it

YOU'RE ALL SUCH SWEETIES!!! Ok gang, just for you 🩷

⚠️ HEADS UP: this part features conflict. There's blood, some unintentional self harm, language barriers, and general chaos! ⚠️

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 4

Click to read parts 1, 2, and 3 here!

There's another rock sitting on the lip of the tank — one of the painted, water-safe ones they let you have — when Damian and Bruce arrive for dinner.

It's the weekend, meaning the aquarium is closed, and it takes a little more smacking on the surface of the water than usual for you to pop up. You shoot Bruce a disinterested glance, his presence vaguely familiar, then chirp sleepily at Damian, evidently having been awoken from a nap.

"Hey, Pr—" Damian catches himself and fakes a cough, then addresses you by your actual name. You furrow your brow, irritated, but still reach forward to take the offered bucket.

Holding it carefully in one arm, your other, webbed hand nudges the rock into Damian's lap. Damian pockets it with an easy nod, signing Thank You. Delighted, you offer him some crab after splitting the shell open with your teeth. He declines. Oh well; more for you!

Eating in front of Damian is little issue, but having Bruce stare at you so intently makes you turn away, hugging the food to your chest and rumbling quietly. Conversation floats in the air behind you.

" — might already be bonded. How often...swim together?"

"At least twice a....insisted it wasn't harming...wouldn't if I realized...promise."

Hmm. Your mate-to-be sounds upset. You dislike that greatly. You spit a half-chewed carp back into the bucket.

"Damian, I know...not mad at you for...unprecedented, you understand that, right? This...to a wild animal...vastly unintelligent..."

You growled and spun back around, tail swishing around fast enough to make the surface of the tank slightly choppy. Unintelligent?! Who was unintelligent? You learned every stupid spin, squeak, and trick you'd been taught! And your Damian was the brightest, kindest, most special caretaker in this whole place!

Bruce looks at you in confusion. Damian looks at you with awe, because he knows you're smart enough to pick up on the gist of most things, like the conversation they're having with each other. English is not your mother tongue, but you are learning, slowly and steadily. Because you are not unintelligent!

You bare your teeth, snapping them twice at Bruce, and firmly push the half-empty bucket over the lip of the tank. It clatters to the floor, the metal twang echoing around the room loud enough to make your head-fins flatten. Both land creatures jump back to avoid getting fish guts all over their legs (a word you learned recently, because you're very smart!), but Damian comes back to the edge of the tank to soothe you quickly.

"Easy, Princess," he mutters, the nickname slipping out this time. You preen and rest your chin on his extended palm, blinking up at his beautiful, green eyes. Your tail stops swishing as hard, and he seems to ease up at the same time you do. Reading your physical cues and responding accordingly is one of the reasons Damian quickly became your favorite, and this demonstration only hits that nail on the head. "Everything is just fine. Father and I are simply talking." He gestures to your discarded dinner. "Do you want any more?"

You huff and turn your face away. Damian takes your dismissal for what it really is and looks at Bruce next.

"You should apologize."

His father's eyes widen. "For what? I didn't throw a bucket on the ground."

"For the slight regarding their cognitive ability. You hurt their feelings." Damian sounds offended on your behalf. It makes something in your chest thrum pleasantly. "I'll fetch a broom for the mess while you say you're sorry."

"I can grab the broom —" one sharp look from his son quiets Bruce down immediately. You and he both watch Damian leave the room, then the human regards you warily while you regard him with a scowl.

Bruce tries to approach the tank. You bare your teeth and he stops. Good human. Good, rude human. Do not approach. You are very scary and fearsome. You might just use your teeth for something more than food if sufficiently provoked.

"You really can understand me, can't you?" He asks, almost rhetorically. The flat look you give him makes his cheeks flush with color. "You can. That's...fascinating. I've skimmed your file of course — I co-run the aquarium, I have to be knowledgeable of all the animals — but I obviously don't know you like my son does."

Ugh. This land creature uses small words. Damian uses big words, which helps you learn faster even if it's more difficult to latch onto what he's talking about.

Bruce calls your name again, and your eyes snap to his. He looks less embarrassed and more curious. More like he's recognizing you as a being capable of proper thought and not some dumb, prey animal in a big play pen. Something in you becomes less tense.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "Really. I'm coming from a place of concern, is all. I never intended to hurt your feelings. You mean a lot to my son, and the feeling seems to be mutual. My concern is just...the extent of the feeling. Damian doesn't have many human friends, and hiring him on to help manage the aquarium hasn't encouraged him in that regard. I just don't...I just want him to..."

He trails off and sighs. This time, when Bruce tries to take a step closer, you keep your teeth hidden behind your lips. He perches on the lip of the tank to look at you, blue eyes taking in all your aquatic features. They're pretty, reminding you of the water, but not as pretty as Damian's.

Just for fun, you puff up and flare out all of your fins just to see him flinch back. Your chirping laughter makes Bruce crack his own smile, and he shakes his head.

"I understand why he adores you," he mutters, something fond in his tone. You sway back and forth in the water with a prideful trill. Obviously you adore him back. That's why you gave him your scales, to prove your devotion. As soon as Damian gives you something valuable back, you'll be life-mates! You're so excited!

"I think... I think that's the biggest reason why I have to separate you two."

You freeze when your brain processes what he just said. Damian reenters the room at that moment, carrying a broom and dust pan to sweep up your abandoned meal.

"Those imbecilic interns moved the cleaning supplies again," he scowls, taking care of the food with a shake of his head. "I swear, father, no one knows how to put anything back in this facility. Some days it feels like Tim and I are the only competent people here."

"And your old man, right?" Says Bruce, rising to his feet. Damian doesn't answer that. "Oh, ouch." His teasing tone shifts, becomes earnest and quiet. "You know I only want what's best for you, right, Tadpole?"

"I know," the boy sighs, dumping the food into a nearby garbage can. He turns to face you, smiling, until he sees the fear on your face. "Something wrong?"

You click your tongue and whistle imploringly, lifting a hand out of the water to beckon him closer. Damian moves to comply, but Bruce's hand curling around his arm impedes his progress. You immediately whistle again, more insistent. More distressed.

"Father, let go, they're upset by something. Let me —"

"I can't do that, kiddo," Bruce frowns, firmly but not unkindly. "I'm reassigning them a new primary caretaker. The emotional attachment to you is too detrimental to their life here."

Damian's eyes widen. "You're not serious."

He tries to yank his arm out of Bruce's grip, but the man is taller and stronger than his son. He wraps his other arm around Damian's waist, guiding him towards the doors.

"Father, let go of me! This is not — everything is fine! I-I won't swim in the tank anymore, I won't physically touch them anymore, I promise! Don't do this!"

Your trilling becomes sharper as you note the distress in your beloved's voice. You throw your arms up to the edge of the tank and try to hoist yourself over, but you've never done it without the help of a caretaker, and you slip back into the water with a rough splash. Undeterred, you flick your tail to give you more momentum, scrabbling against the smooth, concrete edge and crooning for Damian.

You see his vibrant, green eyes, focused on you and glittering like your scales. They've never looked so shiny. Instinctively, you know this isn't a positive trait for a land creature to have.

"Stop, please stop! Look at them, they'll get hurt if you take me away," Damian insists, thrashing against his dad. Bruce hangs on tighter, almost dragging him at this point. "Don't — don't, Baba, please, I'm not hurting them at all, I'll figure out how to break off the engagement, I'll do whatever you want!"

"Calm down, Damian," Bruce murmurs, "please, we're gonna talk about this, I promise, but right now you need to —"

Both of them startle when you finally jump out of the tank, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The hard surface scrapes against your skin and scales in a distinctly uncomfortable way, but you ignore it and start dragging your body towards Damian. Your arms buckle under the strain of maneuvering yourself out of the water, and the flopping of your long, heavy tail isn't helping as much as you'd hoped.

Bruce yanks Damian behind him protectively and pulls a radio off his hip. You hiss and snarl, offended that he would dare think you'd hurt him. Damian tries to duck out from under him, calling to you with obvious concern.

You croon back, the sound low and warbly in your anger, and lunge for him. Scales get scraped painfully off of your tail, leaving a trail of red that you pay no mind. Bruce dodges your clumsy attempts and hoists Damian up by the waist so he doesn't break away either. More of your caretakers burst through the doors, one of them holding a funny, shiny contraption, and there's lots more yelling. They all look as panicked and distressed as you feel.

Good. They should know how much pain they're causing by taking away your precious Damian.

One of the caretakers — named Clark, you think; he comes around mostly to do your health checkups — crouches low and flashes his palms in a show of no ill intent. You reach out with your own palm and lurch forward again, shoving him out of your way. He will not impede you. None of them will.

More scales litter the concrete, stained red with blood. The shiny contraption held in another person's hands — Dick, the loud one you remember — makes a sharp popping noise, and you feel something stab your shoulder.

You flinch back momentarily, palming at it. Damian's distressed yelling reaches a crescendo, and you feel compelled to meet it.

Your jaw clicks from stretching your mouth open so wide. Instinct and rage guide you to draw breath, deeper than you ever have, and bellow.

The resulting sound is a haunting wail, piercing the air around you and making the water in the tank ripple, making the land creatures cry and cover their ears, making the windows rattle and warp. You wail and cry and scream at the injustice, at the audacity of these people to take from you what is yours. You want it back. You want him back. You want Damian!

You see Clark buckle and clutch at his head. You see Dick drop the shiny device that hurt you. You see Bruce grit his teeth and cover one ear, the other busy holding onto Damian.

You see Damian pressing his hands to his ears. You see water running down his face. You see him looking at you with a mixture of fear and upset.

Your mouth falls closed with a snap of your teeth, startled and ashamed. You had hurt Damian. You hurt him and he was scared of you now.

That was not supposed to happen. You didn't mean it.

What have you done?

There's movement in your periphery you pay no mind to. Your back lights up with pain in two more places, and the world slowly starts to spin and lose focus. You stop resisting and slump to the floor, eyes drooping as you continue to look forlornly at Damian.

Damian, who looks back as more tears run down his face. Damian, who is screaming again. Damian, who vanishes through the doors that Bruce finally drags him off to.

You warble miserably and close your eyes, letting the sedatives take you away into a fitful slumber.

[saeun]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”

[leaawrites]

Tour Date

Tucker Pillsbury/Role Model x fem!reader

Summary: surprising Tucker on the No Place Like Tour.

Warnings: fluff, bad jokes, ooc maybe

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist, Hollywood Masterlist

"I wish you were here," Tucker mumbled, half asleep but still looking at her through his phone screen. The sun was still up on her side.

"We'll be together sooner than you can blink," she assured him, packing up her stuff for what he thought was a small business trip. The phone propped up on her desk, leaning against her bright screen that she had checked her flight details on minutes prior to him calling. Since then, he'd just been watching her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him blink and then look around the room. Blinking multiple times again to drag out the joke until it's death.

"I blinked, where are you? Have you become a ghost now?" he asked, angrily looking at the screen and her laughing figure on it.

"I will ghost you if you keep acting like this?"

"You can't ghost me, baby. I live with you, remember that?"

"I will find a way, don't worry," she threatened, smiling sickly at the offended look on his face.

"Mean," he mumbled, his face falling further into the pillow.

"I love you too," she laughed, taking the phone back into our hands to tell him the tragic news she received when looking at the clock. "I need to go now, or else I'll miss my flight."

"Miss it then, I don't care. Just talk a bit longer."

"I will, soon. I promise." Looking at his puppy eyes, she felt a pang of guilt sough through her. It will be worth it though, she reminded herself. "Try blinking a few more times, maybe I'll appear then."

Before she hung up, she watched Tucker furiously blink at the camera, trying to hypnotize her and teleport her over to him.

The flight was good, at least as good as a flight can be. The anticipation and adrenaline at the thought of seeing Tucker again made it more bearable. It made it almost exciting.

Having discussed this with his manager, it was easier to get him to where she wanted. A small cafe she'd been told about by friends, where she was now sat in one of the corners with the sunlight shining down on her. Warming her already hot skin.

A few moments later, Tucker walked in alone. Looking around the room.

They'd planned it all in detail a few weeks beforehand. They would come there together, his manager saying that there was someone for the to meet (a potential sally for the night) and when they'd be in front of it, she'd excuse herself, say someone important just called and leave him to his own devices.

The rest, she could only make it up in her mind.

He'd walk in, confused and tired. Shoulders slumped down, his head hanging low. Looking around the room he'd look for someone he only knew by bare description. Finding her. His eyes lighting up, his feet dashing through the place until he picked her up.

And when he did, wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck, she only then noticed that she missed him more than she admitted before. Cause her heart had never been beating quicker and no amount of reassurance made the emotions in her eyes wash away.

"You're- Are you really here?" Tucker asked, not quite ready to pull away just yet.

"I guess you blinked hard enough," she finally said, pulling away and taking his head in her hands.

Sitting down to eat, she'd already ordered for both of them. The food standing on the table, ready to be gone.

She'd talked about work and what he hadn't been updated about because she forgot late at night and he told her about tour. How it was so far. What the fans were doing every night and how good it felt to be on stage.

The conversation drifted from their own, personal life to the occurring night. Something he'd thought about doing for the longest time.

"When is your soundcheck?" She asked after a break in conversation.

"In about 20 minutes," he said, looking down at his phone before going back to the sandwich in his hands.

"Well, we better head back then."

Arriving at the venue, people were already lining up. Waiting to be let in in a few hours. Keeping his head low, his hood over his head, the two of them walked on the other side of the road, hand in hand. No one faced by the couple passing by. It was nice like that, so quiet and private.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked as she waited for him to get ready.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he assured her, turning around, leaning against the table and pulling her closer. Holding her waist to keep her in place for him to look at her.

She could see the determination in his eyes. He wouldn't say anything if she didn't want to. They could still pick someone from the crowd.

"I think it's better for us if we just open up," she said, fingers tracing over the details in his face. "We don't have to scream everything into the open, we can still be private."

"Your wish is my command," he said, bowing before opening the door. Waiting for her to walk through before walking through herself.

With her arms propped up on the barricade, she watched as he went though the songs. Messing up some lyrics even after singing them almost every night for the past two months and before that. Laughing as he stumbled on stage or shamelessly flirted with her because everyone in the room knew.

"OK, next one," he said, looking down on the setlist that laid in front of his feet. Smirking as he saw the title. "I wanna dedicate this song to the pretty girl in the front." Pointing right at her, the only person in the pit, his band began to laugh, still they played. "Everyone look at that woman, please."

The start to 'Look At That Woman' began playing, and even when he should get ready for the song, he still talked.

"God, she's so hot," he said, dramatically fanning his face and acting like he might faint. "You think she'll go out with me?"

He was now looking directly at her, waiting for an answer.

"Not if you keep messing up your own lyrics," she said back.

Everyone around them laughed. Taking their interactions with humor and less distaste because they made them wait, making Tucker miss his entrance. But it didn't matter to him this time, because she was stood in the first row. Eyes only focused on him; every word he sung and every step he took being noticed by her.

[c-monthecob]

Mikey Heacanons pt. 2!

🌿 Constantly in the background of Senju and Sanzu's videos, waving at the camera.

🌿He thinks his disguises are top-notch. He swears nobody recognizes him when he's wearing one. (There's an entire subreddit dedicated to how stupid his disguises are.)

🌿He'll go months without being home. Not because of traveling for work, he's just at everybody elses house.

🌿He can drive motorcycles but not cars. He says they're too confusing.

🌿He always sticks his head out the window during car rides. He hates riding with Draken because he makes him sit in the back and puts on the child lock.

🌿He killed several of Izana's fish by overfeeding them. (He wasn't even allowed to feed them in the first place.)

🌿During the pandemic, he could NOT follow the six-foot rule. He loves everyone's personal space too much.

🌿He actually gave Takemichi, Draken, Emma, and Shinichro covid because of it.

🌿Recorded Draken proposing to Emma, but he was jumping with excitement, so the entire video is a complete blur.

🌿Tries to have conversations with Draken during pit stops, which is how he ends up losing some of his races.

🌿Just as bad with women as Shinichro, but the difference is that they come up to him and he drives them away.

🌿Avoids Takeomi at parties because he'll spend hours trying to convince him to hire him as his manager.

🌿 Peeks into Emma and Shinichro's room at night to see if they're actually there and if the final timeline is real.

🌿He's on everyone's streaming services. Emma and Draken's Netflix, Takemichi and Hina's Disney+, Mitsuya's Hulu, and Baji's HBO Max. And he doesn't pay for a single bill.

🌿He will try any challenge a restaurant has. It doesn't matter how big the portions are. He WILL get his hands on it.

🌿 When Emma's baby bump was growing more noticeably, he said, "Wow, you're getting fat."

🌿For their gender reveal, he shoved Izana, Shinichiro, Draken, and Takemichi to the ground to hug Emma. (Takemichi wasn't even in the way)

🌿Tells the twins to put his order on his tab. (They don't take tabs, and if they did, he isn't planning on paying it anytime soon.)

🌿Every time he posts something about his bike or races, his comments are filled with booktok girlies. (His account is private now)

🌿Set the speed on a treadmill to the max and tried to get on while it was moving. He ended up busting his ass and went flying into the set behind him. (Wakasa and Benkei have to monitor him now.)

🌿Fights with Emma and Draken's kid about sitting in the car-themed shopping carts. He only gets to ride in one because Draken gets a second cart.

🌿Takemichi got carrot cake for his birthday party, and Mikey was genuinely offended at that.

🌿Shinichiro got him a bubble machine for his 20th birthday, and it was his favorite gift ever.

🌿Draken had to get him a friendship ring because he wouldn't stop pouting after he bought their engagement rings.

🌿He's not allowed in bounce houses after putting a hole in one with him and multiple children inside.

🌿At every wedding, he walks away with the serving platters and plates. (Serving spoons included.)

🌿Banned from several all-you-can-eat buffets for testing their limits.

🌿Emma forced him to diet with her and convinced Draken to do it with them.

🌿For two weeks straight, they monitored everything he ate. No sugar, no fatty foods, and no starch. He acted like they stole a part of his soul, so they decided to give up and take him out for ice cream.

🌿When he won his first fight, his mom made him his favorite food for dinner.

[strawberrystepmom]

sanemi x f!reader. isekai au, established relationship, mostly fluff and character study. | wc 1.3k, divider thanks to @cafekitsune

Gentle communication has never been Sanemi’s strong suit.

He’s moved through his life as wild and blusterous as the winds he wields to keep the world safe, a flurry of carelessly running off at the mouth and leaving destruction behind him if it suited him best. At least until he met you.

Brash is the kind word you’ve chosen to describe him or at least that’s what he overheard you discussing with Mitsuri shortly after he realized his feelings for you were mutual, after the two of you had engaged in relatively wordless physical passion more than once. He didn’t know what the word meant (frankly, he isn’t sure if she did either although she never mentioned it) and he asked you, pointedly, to explain yourself.

“What the fuck does brash mean?”

The look on your face, wide eyes and slightly downturned corners of your lips, caught him off guard even more so than you found yourself. He watched you through narrowed violet eyes while you considered the way to phrase the explanation, a little regretful about his naturally commanding and harsh tone though he could not, and cannot, change it about himself. For a period of time, you looked terrified of him every time you glanced at him and while he felt grateful that was no longer the case, old fears crept in when you opened your mouth to speak, eyes still wide.

“Are you upset with me?” You asked, glancing toward the ground for a moment and then back at his face - that scarred, beautiful face - concerned that your choice of words offended him.

“No.” He answered quickly, reaching out to rub his thumb along the soft skin of the inside of your wrist, something that became a habit after the two of you began sleeping together. His shoulders slumped forward, he inhaled deeply and lowered his voice. “I just want to know.”

Smiling at the glimpse of the man beneath the surface, you leaned in toward him to close the surrounding world off to just the two of you.

“It means that you aren’t afraid to speak your mind and to assert yourself. It’s not a bad thing, you just get to the point quicker than other people might.”

He could tell you were beating around the bush, a little trait of yours he noticed more and more over the time that passed, and his face fell into a scowl despite his thumb still pressing against your skin.

“So you’re saying I’m an asshole?”

You frowned back at him, shaking your head.

“No, I think you just forget about the subtleties of conversation. Facial expressions, tone of voice, language,” you raised your eyebrows at him, pursing your lips to punctuate the last point. “Little things matter, Sanemi. I can’t tell you why but they do.”

Tilting his head to the side, he lacked the grace to hide his confusion. You glanced up at him and trailed your free hand up his arm, reaching until you cupped his chin and cheek in your palm.

“Why? Why can’t people just say what they mean?” You giggled and patted his face, shaking your head. “I don’t have an answer for that but what I can promise you is that I’ll always figure out what you mean even if you say it a little roughly.”

He smiled down at you, slight enough that anyone else would mistake it for a grimace, but you knew better. Emotions have never come easy for Sanemi and you knew that long before getting involved with him bearing in mind that he didn’t speak to you for weeks except to bark orders or demand you cover yourself up in the revealing Slayer uniform you were given upon your appearance in his world.

Even back then, you’d come a long way with one another in a short time. You sighed and dropped your hand from his face, sparing him the embarrassment of being caught mid embrace with you lest someone approached.

“I never mean to be mean to you,” he admitted, eyes glued toward his hand still resting on your arm. “I don’t know how else to tell you what I’m trying to say. All this shit is just…different for me.”

Nodding, you reassured him with a half smile.

“I know and I always pick up on what you really mean anyway.”

The small tells have always said more than he thinks. Twitching fingers, especially the ones he has confided in you he has less feeling in, resting against your arm. Low chuckles in his throat, so brief you believe you imagined them. His lips roughly pressing against your hairline, your cheek, your throat in the darkness of your room.

───・・✦・・───

Those small signs have certainly come in handy over the time the two of you have spent together. The days of miscommunication aren’t long passed, they still linger in the back of your mind when his jaw is slackened and he looks like he may open his mouth to say anything and leave you to play damage control, but you have figured out the little tells.

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and he grips his teacup a little too tightly while kneeling in front of the table at his brothers’ home. You wordlessly sip from your own cup but glance over at Sanemi, raising your left eyebrow to give him the silent signal that you are checking on him.

Are you ready to go?

So many words contained in a simple gesture.

Please.

He nods once, indistinct enough that Genya and his wife who are lost in their own conversation do not look away from one another. Cup placed gently back on the table in front of him, he leans upward and folds his arms over his chest, allowing you to do what you do best. Talk.

“I think we’re about to head home.”

Genya and his wife rise and smile at the two of you, exchanging goodbyes and thanking you for visiting them and their ever growing family. Sanemi’s heart still occasionally pumps a few beats harder when he takes the time to consider how thoughtfully you approach him, patiently allowing him to clarify himself when most would just assume he’s impolite and leave it at that.

“Thank you,” he finally says when the two of you have exited out of the gate separating Genya’s home and the road, stepping down the path headed toward your own that is closer than it seems on a dusk summer evening.

“Of course.” You butt your shoulder against his playfully, fiddling with the inside of your sleeves. “I know you better than you think.”

Sanemi chuckles, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. He’s never been one for overt displays of affection but it’s just the two of you, the crickets, and the earliest appearing stars tonight. There’s no harm in kissing the crown of your head and nuzzling his face into it while your footsteps fall into sync.

“You do,” he agrees, kissing your head. “You’ve tried a hell of a lot harder at the very least.”

This makes you laugh, grinning up at him and wrapping your arms around his waist in return.

“Only because I like you.”

He looks down, brows raised, feigning that same angry look he used to wear before he learned to relax and roll with the punches - assisted by you, of course.

“You only like me?”

Giggling, you shrug, pressing your head into his chest so he can rest his chin on top of it.

“Okay, okay, I guess I love you or something, too.” He chuckles and you feel it rumble beneath your ear, cheeks warming his breath gently ruffles the hair on top of your head.

“That’s better. Say what you mean when you’re talkin’ to me.”

There’s no derision in his words. No anger or frustration, nothing to make you jump or wonder what you’ve done wrong. You glance up at him to find him looking down at you rather than the path ahead, smiling. He’ll save his “I love you” for later, in another way, something you’ve come to appreciate about him since the days when you barely knew each other and were trying to figure it out.

[writeriguess]

Sero hanta x fem reader, it’s after the war and UA decided to do a family day and everyone finds out that hanta has a girlfriend and twins who birthday just so happened to be during the war.

Taped Together

The war had left scars—on their bodies, their hearts, and the world they once knew. But life had a way of moving forward, and UA had decided to host a Family Day to remind everyone that despite everything, they still had something worth fighting for.

You had been hesitant to come, not because you didn’t want to, but because no one knew about you. Not even Sero’s closest friends. It wasn’t intentional; your relationship had just been something private—something safe. And then, when the war started, you had been forced to stay in hiding, pregnant.

A small hand tugging at your hoodie brought you back to the present. Looking down, you met your son’s big brown eyes, the spitting image of his father, from the toothy grin to the messy mop of dark hair. His twin sister, standing at your other side, squeezed your fingers excitedly.

"Mama, do you think Daddy's gonna be surprised?" she asked, bouncing on her heels.

You smiled. "Oh, sweetheart, he's gonna lose his mind."

—

The moment you walked onto UA’s campus, you felt the stares. The other Pro Heroes, former students, and faculty were scattered across the field, laughing, talking, introducing their families. But as you stepped closer, hand-in-hand with your children, the conversation around you began to die down.

And then—

"No fucking way."

A very familiar voice cut through the crowd. You looked up just in time to see Bakugo’s jaw drop, his usually sharp red eyes comically wide. Mina, Kaminari, and Kirishima weren’t any better, looking back and forth between you and the two identical mini-Seros standing beside you.

"Oi, Sero! What the hell, man?!" Kaminari shouted, waving his arms wildly.

At the sound of his name, Sero turned around—and froze.

It was almost funny how dramatically his face shifted. From casual confusion to pure disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to process what he was seeing.

His gaze flickered from you, to the kids, back to you, back to the kids—then he inhaled sharply.

"No."

You bit back a laugh. "Yes."

"No."

"Yes, babe."

"NO, NO, NO—"

Before he could spiral into another round of stunned denial, his daughter bolted forward, tiny arms outstretched.

"DADDY!!"

Sero barely had time to react before she launched herself at him, tape instinctively shooting out to steady her before she crashed into his chest. His arms snapped around her, holding tight, almost like he was afraid to let go.

His son ran up next, a little more hesitant, but Sero grabbed him just as fiercely, pressing kisses into his messy hair, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"You’re real, right?" Sero finally choked out, pulling back slightly to cup their little faces, scanning every feature as if trying to burn the moment into his memory.

"We’re real!" his daughter giggled. "Mommy brought us!"

At that, Sero’s head snapped up, locking eyes with you again. And suddenly, he was moving, pulling you in—one arm wrapped around your waist, the other still holding his children close.

"You’re really here." His voice cracked, forehead pressing against yours.

You smiled softly. "I’m sorry it took so long."

He laughed wetly, kissing you hard before pulling back to study your face.

"Don’t be sorry," he whispered. "You brought them to me. That’s all that matters."

—

"So let me get this straight." Mina finally spoke after a long silence. "You—you had twins? During the war?? And you didn’t tell anyone?!"

Sero, still cradling both of his children, sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… surprise?"

Kaminari looked offended. "We could’ve been Uncle Kami and Aunt Mina this whole time, and you kept it from us??"

Bakugo crossed his arms. "Dumbass."

Kirishima, always the supportive one, grinned brightly. "I dunno, man. I think it makes sense. Sero’s always been good at keeping things together."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"KIRISHIMA, GET OUT."

[ventique18]

Shop owner 🌸 and 🐉 who comes by everyday to get something without fail. The first time you met was uneventful; just one normal customer amongst the many-- if a huge guy dressed in expensive-looking tailored outfits was the norm. You called him "sir" the first couple of times, but after a few pleasant conversations and comfortable laughter, you began to affectionately greet him with a "Hello, stranger." He flushed at that and immediately introduced himself because he always forgot to do so before. You laughed and proposed that "stranger" be your exclusive nickname for him, to which he reluctantly agreed. He eventually grew to like it.

If you sell flowers, he'll rotate between bouquets and mention that they're for his grandmother. If you're a pharmacist, he'll pick up vitamins and maintenance meds daily. You ask why he just doesn't get a bottle once a month, so he'll share that his father's a bit forgetful so he personally hands it to him daily. It doesn't really answer why he needs to buy exactly one tablet each, once a day-- but you're not one to press people.

If you sell...rice, he's basically providing 90% of your income by picking up several kilos every day. You ask if he's running an orphanage with how much he needs, but he just laughs and spills that he has growing brothers and they both eat like hungry crocodiles.

Honestly, you quickly catch on that he just likes talking to you. You don't really see him around outside of his appearances to buy something, so it must take a bit of effort to travel from wherever he comes from. So one day you jokingly mention, "You should just move next to me if my wares are that integral to your life. God knows we need more neighbors here besides retired old ladies and their noisy grandkids ringing my doorbell for shits and giggles."

"I wish you would move into my house."

"Sorry, what was that? The neighbor's music is a bit loud."

He smiles a polite "nothing" before bidding you farewell for the day. A week passes by and he doesn't come again. You wonder if what you said was off-putting to him, but you settle with the more positive thought that he must have a lot going on in his private life. You find yourself hoping he'd pass by again so you could apologize if your joke offended him in any way. Odd as your relationship is, you do think of him as a friend.

So when one day you're walking home from having visited the groceries, your surprise is immeasurable as you stroll by Ms. Betsy's house. Because instead of the cranky auntie who liked to yell at kids and hiss at visiting stray cats, there now stands a guy. A huge guy with equally huge shears shaping the bushes around shrubs of roses that you swear Ms. Betsy never had. A guy that you know very well.

You do remember that the auntie used to like droning about how she'd sell that house and fly to a different country as soon as the opportunity arises, but...

"Hello, stranger..?" You greet with an equal amount of hesitation, confusion, and relief.

He turns. You swear your stomach exploded into a fit of butterflies when a mischievous smile plays on his lips.

"Why, hello... neighbor. You were not joking when you mentioned the children who enjoy ringing doorbells."

You laugh, "Did I mention shopkeepers who ring their neighbor's doorbells yet?"

"That," he replies as he begins sauntering back to his house, "I do not mind." When his hand reaches the door knob, he looks back to you with a grin, "Would you like a cup of tea? You can tell me more about this mysterious shopkeeper over a tray of honey biscuits."

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two

Nothing like being Henry's roommate to send Alex on a bisexual awakening speedrun. Enjoy this selection below!

cross your thoughtless heart by kjbee81. G, 1k. It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n. M, 1.3k. Alex puts his fingers in Henry's mouth.

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine. T, 1.4k. Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it.

“No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.”

Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

something new, something true by rizcriz. T, 1.7k. It’s Cassie in the library, Raul at the coffee shop, Emilio at the movie theater. It’s Nora and June at dinner on Thursday. It’s Ellen and Leo at brunch on Sunday. It’s knowing glances and furtive comments from bloody well everyone they know or come in contact with.

Everywhere Henry turns, it’s people looking between him and Alex like they know something they don’t. Like they’re seeing something that isn’t there. And he knows what it is. Knows what they’re thinking.

He didn’t, but he does now.

Everyone thinks Alex and Henry are dating.

It's hard to lie with water in my lungs by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. M, 1.7k. Best friends Alex and Henry get caught in a storm on their way home, and once there, find themselves in an unexpected situation.

high expectations by rizcriz. T, 1.9k. Alex is lying in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, tubes sticking out of his arms. He looks like he’s gone through an entire ordeal, only, as soon as Henry walks through the door, his eyes go wide, and he’s grinning, a big, toothy smile, bits of cotton sticking out from the corners of his mouth, and sleepily slurring out something that sounds suspiciously like Henry’s name.

His gaze darts to the doctor.

Just as he’s about to ask, there’s a flutter of a movement, the racing sound of the heart monitor going crazy. He snaps his eyes over to look at the monitor—doesn’t understand anything other than the fact that Alex’s heart is going crazy enough to set off several alarms, the beeping quick and scary, and all the information Henry just forced upon himself comes racing to the forefront of his mind as he scurries further into the room, wide eyed and panicked. He looks between the doctor and the nurse, but they’re holding back smiles as they look at each other, barely paying any mind to the monitor.

I kissed a boy and I liked it by @gallifrey1sburning. T, 2k. Henry has no idea what the context would have even been to have spurred such a comment. He only heard it due to one of those mysterious moments that happen every so often in crowded rooms at the most inopportune times where the volume on all conversations inexplicably lowers simultaneously, allowing one statement that was most likely not intended for mass audiences to ring throughout a space. In this case, the somewhat offended sounding announcement of one Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry’s tragically heterosexual roommate and long unrequited crush:

“Of course I’ve kissed a guy before; I’m not homophobic. Jesus.”

Alex is a bit confused about the concept of allyship. Henry is possibly going to die.

kiss me once 'cause you know by @ninzied. T, 2.1k. Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

(In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

love don't by @smc-27. E, 2.4k. Alex calls the stupid advice podcast because he’s bored and out of ideas and he’s been trying his best, but Henry doesn’t seem to be feeling any better.

“My friend was seeing this guy for four months, and then just got straight up ghosted. What can I do to support him?”

The podcast host - a comedian most of the time - answers, “Oh, you’re gonna have to fuck him.”

you pull me in tight by @miss-minnelli. T, 2.5k. Tonight, they’re watching A New Hope, a compromise, since they spent half an hour bickering about episodes V and VI. Alex has his bare legs in Henry’s lap and Henry is gently rubbing his hand up and down Alex’s right shin.

It’s very possible Alex has died and gone to heaven, but he fucking hopes not, because this is actual bliss. Henry’s eyes are focused on the screen, smiling at something Luke is saying, but Alex hasn’t been watching the movie at all. He’s transfixed by Henry’s hand on his leg, ruffling his leg hair and stroking his ankle with each pass.

__

Or, Henry and Alex find each other after a bit of a detour.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz. T, 2.8k. Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him.

And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame.

bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days by @spiritsontheroof G, 2.9k. It’s been years, really, since he got that tell-tale pressure behind his eyes and ball of tension at the top of his spine. He pinches the bridge of his nose and when that doesn’t work, he reaches around to the back of his neck and presses right at his hairline, desperate for some kind of relief.

forehead kisses. by dreakawa. M, 3.2. Movie nights had become a weekly tradition for Alex and Henry.

As per usual, the movie Henry had chosen had Alex slowly dozing off next to him, his body relaxing onto the couch. He feels Henry grab the blanket and place it over him, and then-

Well, then, Henry’s fingers begin carding through his hair, and Alex doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s evident Henry doesn’t know he’s awake, but the touch feels… nice. Safe. Comforting in a way he didn’t realize he needed.

And then… well. And then.

Henry leans down and kisses his forehead, and his entire fucking world tips on its axis.

There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.3k. Henry has a bad date.

Alex makes him a bet he can't refuse.

three seconds until the world ends by rizcriz. T, 3.3k. When Henry agreed to come with Alex to June and Nora’s for a party, he’d considered a million possibilities. Alex wandering off with someone and leaving Henry to fend for himself; June bringing out vodka jello shots (again) to try and get Henry to open up. Karaoke. A house full of strangers celebrating the New Year. Basically, the norm.

What he did not expect, however, was for June and Nora to decide that it was far too late, and Alex and Henry were far too drunk to go home when everyone else left at 3am.

Henry did not account for the singular guest room.

all i know since yesterday (is everything has changed) by saintsnames. G, 3.3k. henry and alex have been roommates for three and a half years when alex's girlfriend washes his sweatshirt in tide detergent and a realization unravels.

Red-Bull Lattes FTW by ItsMayBiTheWay. T, 3.4k. It was inadvisable. Alex knew it was inadvisable the first time he did it, and he knew it the second time he did it. By the third time he was so high on caffeine, his hands were shaking, but one might argue attending law school was inadvisable as well. So Red-Bull lattes it is.

After mainlining three Red-Bull lattes to survive the last of his law school final of the semester, Alex finds himself in the hospital, his asshole of a roommate by his side. Why the fuck is Henry there? And why things he’s hearing throwing his world off its axis.

It leads you here, despite your destination by @dreamsinthewitchouse. M, 3.5k. “So.” Alex unwinds his scarf and drapes it over the back of the couch, turning to Henry. “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word coils in Henry’s gut, a sugar-sweet spiral. “Thank you,” he says, not trusting his voice for more.

i need that charles dickens by @whimsymanaged. E, 3.6k. Henry’s flatmate (and crush) Alex is suddenly obsessed with Charles Dickens. But when Henry asks to borrow Alex’s Dickens, he quickly learns that Alex hasn’t, in fact, been talking about a book.

Every Time I Fold A Paper Crane by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.6k. The story of Alex and Henry's relationship as roommates, and the birthday card that changes it all.

love drunk, waiting on a miracle by gallifreyandglowclouds. E, 3.6k. Henry wears grey sweatpants. Alex reacts (in)appropriately.

there's one prize i'd cheat to win by @coffeecatsme. T, 3.6k. They’ve been roommates for eight years now, through Georgetown to New York, law school and grad school and ultimately their jobs, and Alex can’t imagine his life without Henry. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate.

Too bad Henry has a boyfriend already.

Or, 5 times Alex is jealous over Henry's "boyfriend" and 1 time he realizes he doesn't have to be.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine (i feel like i might sink and drown and die) by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. It feels good. Henry’s touch feels good against his skin, and it’s not like when June hugs him so tight after not seeing him for days, not like when Nora bumps his shoulder or ruffles his hair and he wants her to get the fuck away. Not like when Henry has touched him a million times before, hands brushing as they walked, platonic cuddles during movie nights, hands on his elbow and his wrist and his chin whenever there’s a bit of chocolate on the corner of his lips or he needs someone to steady him. It’s too warm, too solid, peeling off layers of his skin until Alex kind of wants to check if somehow his internal organs are exposed, except he doesn’t because he’s worried Henry will stop if he moves and he…

Fucking hell, he doesn’t want Henry to stop, does he?

Alex finds himself in Henry's arms after a night of drinking and realizes some things.

In the teeth of strong opposition by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 4k. "You know what?" Henry says loudly, annoyed beyond belief that he has to hear for the millionth time how fucking cool Alex is with Henry's sexuality. "If you're such a good ally, why don't you suck me off? Since you're so insistent, why not get on your knees, Alex?"

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's not like he can shove them back into his mouth; he can't take them back. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the shocked expression on Alex's face and takes a few deep breaths.

"Sorry," he says tightly a moment later, eyes still closed. "That was uncalled for."

"Do you want me to?"

in the dip of your collarbone (baby that's called home) by rizcriz. T, 4.2k. Alex has had too much to drink.

Alex has had too much to drink and he’s practically horizontal, held up only by the strength of his roommates singular arm while said roommate is dribbling fucking Patron into the dip between his clavicle so he can lap it up with his tongue.

or two idiots are in love.

it hits different 'cause it's you by coffeecatsme. E, 4.3k. “Fuck, I need someone to like, rail me to next week so I stop worrying about this class.”

Henry chokes on his tea in an attempt not to spurt it all over his computer. He turns to his roommate. “Alex?” he says carefully. “Could you…repeat that, please?”

Or, Alex needs to get railed. Henry provides.

you taste like home by whitescarves. T, 4.4k. “I lied to you,” he says.

He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t have to.

Alex toys with his fingers. Quiet settles over them, offset by the pattering rain.

“I know.”

Or, the rizcriz prompt where Alex and Henry are roommates and Henry lies when Alex confesses his feelings in order to protect their dynamic.

Riding slow 'cause you know the world's moving too fast by earth_to_alex16. T, 4.9k. Maybe he should be reaching for the stars, like his parents told him. Moving mountains. Changing the world.

But all he wants to do is tackle one small hurdle at a time, Henry right by his side.

Forever.

So what does that say about him?

Four times Alex and Henry face collisions, and the one time a collision yields stars.

all this bitching and moaning. by @chaa-kiao. M, 5k. His door creaks. “Alex.”

Henry. Fresh tears splash over his cheeks. “Since when do you ignore my boundaries?”

“Since you—” Henry sputters. “For Christ’s sake, I haven’t allowed myself a single shred of hope in four years, can you blame me for not being able to stand it?”

Alex’s sexuality—straight—is the punchline of most Super Six jokes. He starts figuring out why that bothers him so much.

be with you day and night (all i need is time) by chanmosphere. T, 5.2k. Five times Henry is about to confess and one time Alex does it first.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes. E, 5.3k. Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

coming clean by ninzied. E, 5.8k. Objectively, Henry knows it’s not so big a deal. They’ve seen each other naked before, in a strictly gym locker sort of way. Here should be no different, really. Either way, it's no place for deeply guarded fantasies about his housemate—his best mate—to go. Either way, Alex is straight. Either way, Alex is not even looking.

Or, 3 times Alex wants to talk about his day while Henry's in the shower + 1 time he wants other things.

it's all fun and games (til somebody loses their mind) by @theprinceandagcd. T, 6k. He’s left standing there, listening to the thudding of his pulse in his ears, trying to swallow the sudden nausea twisting in his belly. Alex is long gone, like he flipped Henry’s world upside down without a single care and walked away from him similarly, with no concern for the destruction left behind in the wake.

Alex had kissed him.

He’d done so for several moments, a full stretch of countable time, like he’d meant it, and then disappeared in a split second once he’d achieved his victory, the apparent purpose of his kiss.

As if it had meant nothing.

---

Alex kisses Henry during a game of laser tag, and then pretends it was just a distraction, only he can't stop thinking about it, either.

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) by affectionatelyrs, @happiness-of-the-pursuit. T, 6.1k.

A sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

Tap not working. Called plumber 5th Oct.

A new sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

fixed. told plumber not to bother.

A new sticky note, placed to the right of the sink:

Did you wear the uniform and everything?

A new sticky note, placed below the previous sticky note:

wouldn’t you like to know?

Or, Alex and Henry fall in love one note at a time

Run the Risk by etherealdimini. NR, 6.1k. Henry smiles at him. Then, he shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake out a thought. “Well, thank you for having David. I should, um, get going. I wouldn’t want to bother you even further on a Sunday morning. I suppose I’ll see you—”

“I could have you, too,” Alex blurts out. Henry’s mouth drops open slightly.

OR

Henry moves in beside Alex. Alex is enamoured. He does something about it.

Uncut not Uncultured by @inexplicablymine. E, 6.4k. “Excuse me? Have I dealt with Uncircumcised Dick? Are you at a hookup or something right now and a little lost?”

“Yes, have you dealt with uncircumcised dick, no I’m not at a hookup, I am having an existential crisis and I need support okay Liam!” Alex’s voice pitches up at the end showing that he really is worried about something to do with foreskin.

__________________

One Trader Joe’s Pride themed phallic treat, one existential crisis with your ex and his current lover, one hot and steamy night to work it all out.

YourMusicSucksAndYouLookLikeADickhead by cloudymilk. E, 6.7k. In which Alex gets a new neighbour who immediately pisses him off, and they begin blaring their music to communicate with each other.

oh shit...are we in love? by sunnysideprince. T, 6.8k. They are practically polar opposites. Henry is quiet and introverted where Alex is definitely not, but it works for them just fine. It’s just like what Ms. Benson taught them about magnets. Opposites attract, and Henry wouldn’t have it any other way.

down the hall, through the door by kwrites. E, 7k. Alex had found his door opening at least once a week, Henry’s tall frame filling the space looking for something or other. The thing is, Henry seemed so well put together all of the time, that him constantly running out of common household supplies or food is so outside the walls of what Alex expects from him.

or, Henry and Alex are neighbors and Henry has a habit of stopping by unannounced.

peekaboo, baby by celeritas2997. E, 7k. Henry might die.

“You good?”

“I—er—fine,” Henry stammers. His blasted, traitorous eyes lock onto where Alex is hanging out.

Alex follows Henry’s gaze. His surprise is short-lived before he cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Henry is definitely going to die.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by @affectionatelyrs. T, 7.2k. “Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?”

There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react.

“Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?”

Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

deep in the dreaming of you by ninzied. E, 7.4k. Alex isn’t sleeping after a recent breakup. Henry tries to be the supportive best friend, because he knows all too well what it’s like to lose sleep over pining for someone.

Or, Alex is pining. Henry is just very wrong about whom.

(looked to the sky and said) please, I've been on my knees by theprinceandagcd. M, 7.5k. But Henry is not Alex’s.

He won’t ever be Alex’s to hold and cherish and love.

Because Henry chose someone else.

That searing pain is why Alex has folded his limbs into a patio bench on their balcony, feeling petulant and hating himself for it. It’s the reason that he’s a quarter of the way into the bottle he’s holding and pouting up at the sky, looking for stars that he knows are there but aren’t showing themselves to him, like maybe they’ve abandoned him, too.

He feels like he’s staring up at an endless expanse of darkness and wishing on fucking nothing, his prayers falling on deaf ears and getting forever lost in that infinite abyss.

----

or, Alex gets drunk because Henry is on a date & drunken confessions ensue

in your arms (the happiest place on earth) by rizcriz. T, 7.6k. Alex stares at the text, his heartbeat thrumming wild and free in his veins, because what the fuck. Not because of the content of the text, as mundane and normal as it is; not Henry thinking about him when he’s several states away without him; not the fact he’s even texted while Alex is in the middle of the busiest damn park at Disney World.

It’s the words that pop into his head as soon as he reads the text:

Fuck, I love him.

What. The. Fuck.

Or, the happiest place on earth isn't where you'd expect it to be.

Sprinkler Splashes To Fireplace Ashes by @iboatedhere. T, 7.7k. "So, tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell, really," Henry says, smiling into the phone when Pez sighs dramatically.

"Henry. You are young, beautiful, living in an exciting city half a world away, and you say there's nothing to tell?"

"I'm over thirty," Henry counters as he strains his tea into his mug. "I found a gray hair three days ago, and I'm in Georgetown—the most exciting thing I've seen is the neighbor from three houses down trying to fight a ticket for double parking."

"Was he successful?"

"No."

Pez hums. "You should get out more."

coming on fast like good dreams do by @cricketnationrise. E, 7.5k. When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face.

“Run that by me again?” he asks faintly.

“I need your help.”

“Right…”

“I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug.

Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

One More Weekend by @underthefigtree777. E, 7.7k. “Are you going to miss me?” Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist from behind. His chin rests gently on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex doesn’t know how to answer the question. He already misses Henry.

The unspoken rules they made for whatever they’ve been doing over the past year have slowly started to deteriorate. Now that there is an end in sight, there isn’t much point in minimizing the small talk. There’s no need to sneak back to their respective apartments in the middle of the night to avoid waking up next to each other in the morning.

Or, Alex and Henry have been neighbors and fuck buddies for the past year. Alex realizes his feelings for Henry might be more than casual when he learns that Henry is moving back to London.

(how's one to know?) I'd live and die for moments that we stole. by untoward. G, 8k. He kissed Henry.

But it wasn’t a long or deep kiss, it was a peck. He did that to a lot of people; Nora, his old friends from back home, hell, even strangers at parties. He knows he’s an affectionate person and this is just an extension of that. Plus, he’s really comfortable in his sexuality to know it doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

or

5+1 Things where Alex keeps giving Henry kisses and claiming he's just being his affectionate, straight self.

we broke all the pieces (still wanna play the game) by theprinceandagcd. E, 8.5k. “Henry.” Alex crawls over and braces his hands on Henry's thighs, sitting up on his knees so that he can meet Henry's gaze. His own lips curl automatically when he sees that Henry is already smiling, but he schools his features into a more serious expression. “Do you want to play?”

“Do you?” Henry reaches out to push a curl away from Alex's forehead, trailing a finger down the side of his face and making Alex shiver. He leans down until his mouth is beside Alex's ear, and Alex feels lightheaded all of a sudden, his breath held hostage in his lungs. “Because you're going to lose.”

Alex shoves him away, shaking his head as that challenge reverberates in his brain and sparks fire in his veins, accelerating his heart rate as he grins. “You're fucking on, Fox.”

----

or, Alex and Henry are best friends who are *definitely* not into each other, so they get a little tipsy and play gay chicken that neither of them are willing to lose.

Number Neighbour by aforgottennymph. E, 9.2k. Henry likes his new neighbours well enough - There’s Mrs Bennett in 6D, who always pinches his cheek when she passes him in the hall. Mr Ewing in 3B, that Henry always helps carry his groceries up the stairs as he doesn’t trust the lifts. There’s Emily from 4A, who always stops Henry in the halls to show him photos of her baby, who has recently learned how to put square shaped blocks into square shaped holes.

And then there's Alexander Claremont Diaz in 2E that he has been steadily falling in love with via text message, despite never meeting the man.

He's bloody screwed.

I Get On My Knees by quill_and_ink. E, 9.5k. What the fuck is Henry Fox doing in his bed? His best friend, his roommate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world - why in the everloving fuck is Henry in his bed?

Better question - why the fuck is Henry naked in his bed?

bacterial? fungal? nah, baby, we're going viral by @benwvatt. T, 10k. It’s okay, Henry thinks. This is who he is on Eureka Boys, magnanimous, gracious, intelligent. Perhaps it’s a role he embodies. Perhaps it’s his actual personality.

It takes time to figure out.

Alex gulps just then, and Henry follows the languid dip of his Adam’s apple down, down the exquisite column of his throat; Henry follows the hand that scratches at his starchy collar. Henry stares into the middle distance and wants him.

In which Alex and Henry run a science comedy podcast while in college, and Henry spends every episode pining madly after his (seemingly) straight best friend. Yes, they do flirt while talking about animal sex.

Through His Stomach by KiwianaPods (kiwiana), lovecommahannah. E, 13k. “Do you think we can save the pot?” Henry asks, moving to run it under water in the sink.

“Not a chance,” Alex says with a laugh. “But here. Go sit down. I know my way around a kitchen pretty well, so you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this."

Or: How to get your roommate to fall in love with you, in 5+1 beginner friendly(ish) recipes.

It's a Strange Way of Saying that I Know, I'm Supposed to Love You by sunflowerjpg. T, 13k. “So… Alex is bi.”

“Y-yes, I heard,” he responds through a gulp.

“When do you plan on making your move?” June asks, straight forward as always.

“June! I can’t! He just came out, how can I take advantage of that? I can’t just say, “Hey Alex! Now that you’re into men, do you fancy sucking my cock?” He would have me committed! Jailed! Deported! And what if he came to his sexuality because he met someone? Oh, god.”

“Okay, ew, I’d expect more romance.” June protests just as Bea scoffs.

---

Moving 3,399 miles across the ocean with just his dog and whatever clothing he could fit in his travel bag to attend NYU behind his grandmother’s back was not one of Henry’s most sane ideas. Thankfully he meets his roommate on move-in day—one charming, inevitable, Alex Claremont-Diaz—and they slowly fall in love during their first year living together. Henry thinks it's completely unrequited, Alex thinks they’re dating the whole time.

Lovefool by aforgottennymph. E, 18k. Henry has been in love with his roommate and best friend since the moment they met, caught in the rain outside their college apartment. Over the next four years he learns everything there is to know about Alex Claremont Diaz, what makes him tick.

He knows his coffee order, the meaning behind how he narrows his eyes one way versus a slightly different way. He knows how to make him finish in under thirty seconds (“That was one fucking time, sweetheart!”).

If only he could have him, wholeheartedly, not just the friends with benefits arrangement they have stumbled into.

The Flatshare, or Two Boys One Bed by momsgoldteeth. G, 18k. The Craigslist ad reads, 'I work nights and only require the apartment between the hours of 9am to 4:30pm Monday through Friday. The flat would be yours 4:30pm to 9am Monday through Friday as well as all day and night on Saturday and Sunday.' Henry and Alex share a bed. Henry and Alex have never met. (Based on Beth O'Leary's 'The Flatshare'.)

Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 19k. When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know.

Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even.

But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

Murphy’s Law (aka, A series of most (un)fortunate events) by Djokodal_Fan. M, 22k. If something can go wrong, it will.

The somewhat cynical statement of the Murphy's law has never really appealed to Henry - but he can't help start believing in it more and more, after the magnificently gorgeous, witty and compassionate Alex Claremont-Diaz moves in to the house next door to his. Basically, the man of Henry's most fervent dreams and deepest desires. They quickly become good friends, but somehow, every so often, Murphy's Law strikes when he's in Alex's company and leaves Henry feeling either flustered and tongue-tied, or completely mortified, or utterly distressed. It's not long before he starts disconsolately wondering if the very Universe is conspiring to keep him away from the man of his dreams. If he is Thisbe to Alex's Pyramus, and Henry's destiny is to always keep pining from across the picket fence separating their homes.

Alex, of course, has radically different ideas. ☺️

Newton's Fourth Law by dilfpickles. E, 26k. In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

You Make my Head Spin by starry_pisces. E, 26k. Henry and Alex become roommates while both attending classes at NYU. Alex learns what it's like to live with (and love) someone with an invisible disability. Feelings abound.

thinking out loud by later2dae. T, 27k. Alex has a new neighbor. The walls are quite thin. One night, he hears a voice, but it's not what he expects.

OR the one where Henry berates himself and Alex thinks that it's Henry's horrible boyfriend.

wrung out by arcticmaggie. M, 35k. So excuse him if he passes by Henry one night, both in pajamas and on their way to their respective rooms, both about to end their day at the same time, and his pinky slightly grazes against Henry’s right hip, immediately making him stop, whip around and stutter out, “H-Hey.”

It startles Henry—it startles Alex as well, Jesus—as he stumbles with his steps and turns around, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden break in peaceful silence in their apartment.

“Hey?” he replies.

or

Law student Alex is incredibly touch-starved and his English Lit PhD roommate Henry is right there.

If you know a firstprince author handle I may have missed tagging or find a broken link, please give me a heads up! Happy reading.

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Part One

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

[auroreliis]

pls we need more father-daughter moments with bruce because almost all of the yandere batfam fics i’ve read in tumblr always focuses on the bros 😭😭

Platonic Yandere!Bruce Wayne

Summary: Your father protects you from your brothers.

CW: mention of bugs

(not edited or proofread)

Rapid footsteps echoed through the manor. The quiet treading belonged to you and the more audible stomps were from your brother, Dick. Your panting was not missed by the individual chasing you. It was clear that you were getting worn out.

Currently, you were attempting to avoid getting hugged by Dick, who, being as touchy as he is, did not appreciate you steering clear of his squeeze. He had hugged all of his siblings and none of them were as resilient as you, so why did you have to avoid him like this?

You darted past all possible hiding places, since you were sure it would only be a matter of time until he found you, instead opting to run. Your knees bent slightly as you were rounding the corner, in order to be able to push yourself forward with a little more power.

What you couldn't have expected, was that you would run directly into your father's chest. The sudden blockage caused you to stop and look up at him, before remembering that you were on the run. Your head turned and you saw Dick getting closer to you. Out of panic, you hid behind Bruce, who raised a brow at your eldest brother.

Dick came to a halt directly in front of Bruce, who had crossed his arms by now.

"Richard, would you explain the situation to me? I don't quite understand why your sibling is running from you", he said, not mentioning the fact that your nails were digging into his back.

"They've been running from me every time I try to even touch them. I don't want them to distance themselves, they need to be involved more", said Richard, distressed by your sidestepping.

Bruce hummed in thought. "I'll talk to them", his tone signaling that Richard should leave.

Dick huffed before stomping away.

Your father finally turned to you and waited for your explanation.

A sigh escaped your lips and you dropped your head, "Sorry, I just...felt overwhelmed. I'm not really fond of physical contact, but I'll work on it, I promise." You did slightly cringe at your own words, but by now you had learned that complying with their wishes was much more rewarding than disobeying them.

You kept your head low, waiting for his acknowledgement, when a hand landed on your head. You looked up at him, eyebrow raised in confusion, but he just looked at you. He gave your head two light pats before smiling and walking away.

Looking around, you remembered that you had escaped Richard without giving in to his affection.

A radiant smile lit up your face as you scurried off to your room.

~~~~~

"Oh come on! It won't hurt you, will it?", shouted your brother, Jason, as he chased you through the manor, cockroach in hand, ready to be shoved in your face.

He had found it in his helmet and you immediately expressed your repulsion and highlighted the fact that he must be very filthy.

Jason, offended by this comment, decided to make you filthy too, by rubbing a bug on your nose, or at least attempting to. You bolted out of his room at a speed that would put The Flash to shame, but he caught up with you and promised that he wouldn't leave you alone as long as you were clean.

You barely paid attention to your surroundings as you ran through the halls and turned every nearing corner, yet you somehow ended up in the kitchen, where your father was currently conversing with Alfred.

"DAD HELP!", was all you needed to say to have Bruce step between you and Jason, taking on a protective stance.

Jason saw this and stopped, not even having entered the kitchen yet.

Both of them stared at each other silently before Jason turned around and left, presumably deciding that he had better things to do than getting scolded by Bruce.

He muttered a few curse words under his breath and for a moment you feared that you would wake up to him at the foot of your bed, holding a handful of bugs.

"Why was he chasing you?", your father's question brought you back to the situation at hand. "Uh..", you weren't sure how to phrase this without making Jason seem nefarious, "He wanted to show me a bug, but I didn't want to see it, so I ran!"

Bruce inhaled, as if he was about to talk, but you beat him to it, "But! You saved me, thank you!" You hugged him and smiled innocently, praying he stops asking questions.

It seems that he noticed your reluctance to elaborate, so he left it at that and you disappeared within seconds.

This wasn't the first time your father had saved you from your brothers and it most certainly won't be the last.

It was kind of funny how you always seemed to run into him when you were in trouble.

Perhaps it was fate guiding you to your saviour.

It matters not.

All that mattered was that you were thankful for your father's help and understanding, even if his timing was suspiciously accurate.

[plushish]

Adam with a reader who’s very witty and quick with comebacks?

just some silly pre-conference banter! | Adam x Reader

headcanon/drabble — how would Adam be like with a reader who is sharp-witted?

content & warnings — NSFW, fem reader, fem pronouns, fingering & cunnilingus, sexual act happening in a public place (workplace).

a/n — this takes place in some sort of office-setting, i dont know what goes on up there in heaven but i like to think its similar to what we've seen so far in hell, so i'm sure conferences aren't unheard of. i wasn't sure what format this idea should take, so it begins like a headcanon list but finishes up with a drabble. it's also rushed and i struggled with it a lot but. we ball!!!!!!

Adam considers himself to be a pretty funny guy, always dishing out 'sick burns' on others, but his pride gets hurt really easily. When it comes to a reader who can keep up with him in comebacks; he's definitely impressed by it, thinks it's hot as fuck, but he'd never openly admit it because it also a ignites a strong sense of competition in him.  

The tension between the two of you is uncomfortably palpable, how you twist him through every conversation and leave him to stammer like a fool just when he thinks he's bested you. Watching him seethe is endlessly entertaining to you, it brings you satisfaction, finding your own sense of pride in seeing that bad boy persona crack little by little.

The two of you will be going back-and-forth every time Sera calls for a conference, taking up half of the allotted time with your back-and-forths, and everyone graced with the luck to have been summoned there just wishes the two of you would fuck already so they didn't have to keep sitting through this.

But he secretly likes it, your flippancy towards his status and identity as First Man, how you're always so quick to shut down his sleazy remarks with an air of arrogance, going toe-to-toe with his own. Cute. 

Until one day, you finally give into him– He somehow manages to get you to fuck him, and for days after, his bragging around the office is incessant: "[Name] cries when she cums!", "Her orgasm face is just the cutest fuckin' thing, I mean could you imagine? Wait, actually don't, don't picture it–"

You start to get fed up, not only annoyed at his oversharing and his ceaseless bragging about things that simply weren't true, but because you hadn't even gotten to cum from the experience. Instead of confronting him, you had a plan in place that would get you what you wanted, so you instead opted to ignore the hushed whisperings around you all day.

...Until a little later, when you're in an empty conference room together, and he's sitting across the table from you. Licking the lid of his yogurt container with a smug look. Mimicking the disappointingly tepid treatment he'd given to you the night before.

"Should we... address what happened, [Name]?" He asks smugly, like it was a topic of business, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.

"No, I'm good." 

"Noooo?" Adam's voice is as sugary as the extra pumps of syrup he'd overloaded his coffee with this morning in the breakroom. You'd seen that diabetes-inducing horror as it happened. "Why not? I feel like it's something we should talk about."

"Why?" You ask simply. "It happened, and that's it."

That gets him a little annoyed. Confused, too; why weren't you playing along?

"Didn't mean a thing to you, then?"

"Nah."

"Oh please, [Name]," he scoffs. He’s getting offended at the thought now, his wings giving a small flap in indignance. He’s supposed to be the aloof one! You should be begging for it to happen again.

"Don't fuckin' play. My dick gave you the best fuck you've ever had and now you don’t know how to feel."

“The best? At putting me to sleep, maybe. I did get a good nap out of it afterward, so.”

To Adam, the only thing better than your negative attention is your positive attention, and the only thing worse than that is your indifference. He hates feeling desperate, but you bring him to that shameful peak.

“You were on my dick like you had a fuckin' crush,” Adam continues to ramble on, trying to find a weak spot. “Fucking me probably meant a lot to you, huh?” 

"I hump my pillow before bed and it means as much." 

"Your pillow can't plow you like I do."

"No, but at least it actually gets me to cum."

Adam’s dick twitches in his pants. You know exactly what you're doing. Those words, delivered with that cruel flippancy he loves and hates so much, are precisely tailored-- All to drive him over the edge. 

“Then maybe that was just a trial run,” He says after a long, fervent pause. "Maybe you need another taste."

You smirk a little, but only offer more disdain.

"No thanks, I've had enough to decide I'm no longer interested."

"Oh come on," He finally says. He's desperate at another chance now, he needs the validation of making you cum for his pride to be restored.

"Just give me one more shot?"

And so there you are, bottoms down, legs spread, Adam's fingers inside you, sitting on the edge of the table where a meeting is supposed to happen in about 25 minutes.

You're sopping wet. He drags a finger over your cunt before spreading it. "You're so cute, all blushing and shit. Makes me crazy hard."

"Your vocabulary is fucking terrible. Stop talking."

"You like it, though." He grins, teasingly lifting his fingers away from your aching cunt to show you your own wetness. You let out a small whine at the absence. "You sure you want me to stop?"

"Shut up, I said," You grab him by his hair and shove his mouth where you want it, aggressive and impatient. "-and start eating."

Normally Adam is not one to take demands like that. But in this position-- looking up at your stern face from between your legs--he obeys. He kisses at your cunt over and over, sweet little pecks like a first crush. The sensation makes your core tighten around nothing. Adam was not one to take his time; he was teasing you like this on purpose. You weren't having it.

And so pettily, you decide to say: "You can do better than that."

So naively, he does, he takes your dare and you're practically gushing all over the conference table by the time he gets in there and starts eating for real. Desperately suckling your clit between those smirking lips, that mouth that never fucking shuts up.

You cum with a satisfied sigh, as if you'd just had a good stretch rather than an orgasm on his face. He looks up at you expectantly, lips glistening with your aftertaste. Eyes wide and eager, waiting for the praise that is to come, only for you to lean in and whisper:

"Look who has a crush now."

a/n — pls forgive me for taking so long to answer this! i don't think it's exactly what you're looking for but i tried. it's more of an "adam with a reader who he has a sexually-charged, competitive work relationship with" type of deal. you just like to play with him and you know exactly how to make him desperate