#and i simply think that would be a nice place to live

[luna-azzurra]

10 Secrets Your Character Is Desperately Hiding (and Probably Will Until They Die or Get Drunk Enough to Confess)

╰ They moonlight as an absolutely awful stand-up comedian.

They don’t just tell bad jokes, they commit to them. We’re talking full costume, dollar-store wigs, a fake name like “Chuckles McSuffer,” and punchlines that make people groan so hard their souls briefly exit their bodies. And....they love it. The stage is the only place they feel weirdly free… which is why no one in their real life can ever know. Ever.

╰ They can dance like their life depends on it, but they never do it in public.

We’re talking footwork that would make a music video jealous. Rhythm in their bones. But they’ve decided the world isn’t ready. Or maybe they’re not. So they only dance alone in the kitchen at 2 a.m. Or in the middle of a supermarket aisle when they think no one’s looking. And when they do get caught? “Nope. That wasn’t me. That was… a spasm. Mind your business.”

╰ They’re secretly freakishly good at imitating animals.

Birds. Dogs. Goats. Snakes. They’ve got the sounds, the gestures, the whole weird little zoo living inside them. It’s the kind of skill you don’t admit to having because it’s impossible to explain how it started or why you’re so good at it. They only let it out when alone… or, let’s be real, when they’re trying to impress someone and immediately regret it.

╰ They are the office prankster. And no one suspects a thing.

Every missing stapler, glitter bomb, whoopee cushion, and mysteriously replaced family photo? That’s them. The mild-mannered barista/accountant/space pilot you’d never suspect. They’ve got an entire prank calendar hidden in their sock drawer and a spreadsheet of targets and outcomes. But they also have boundaries. No emotional damage. Just chaos.

╰ They have a full-on karaoke alter ego.

Different name. Different voice. Whole new personality. They sneak off to karaoke bars in the next town over wearing sunglasses indoors and croon power ballads like their soul is trapped in a 2005 romcom montage. Their go-to number is “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Their real friends have no idea. And if they ever found out? This character would simply evaporate.

╰ They collect the weirdest sh*t you’ve ever seen.

Not stamps. Not coins. Try: novelty rubber ducks. Ugly fridge magnets. Cursed porcelain dolls. Empty chip bags from every country they’ve visited. Their closet is one shelf away from being a museum of “What Even Is This.” No one knows. No one must know. It brings them joy. It’s their version of peace. And yeah, it’s a little creepy. But it’s theirs.

╰ They cannot cook to save their life. Like, not even toast.

They once set a salad on fire. The microwave fears them. Every “simple recipe” turns into a crime scene. But instead of admitting it, they just… lie. Constantly. “Oh yeah, I made that!” (They did not. Their neighbor did. And their neighbor swore never to speak of it again.) They’ve mastered the art of deflection, distraction, and showing up with “store-bought but plated nicely.”

╰ They live their life by a bunch of completely nonsensical superstitions.

Never wear green on Wednesdays. If a pigeon looks at you sideways, cancel your plans. Salt must be thrown over the right shoulder or the demons will know. They’ve got a ritual for everything, from writing emails to picking socks. But no one knows they believe this stuff, because they make it look casual. Strategic coincidence. That’s the game.

╰ They throw underground dance parties in their basement. Alone. In costume.

Disco ball? Check. Fog machine? Obviously. Elaborate themed playlists? You bet. Their Tuesday nights are sacred: just them, their playlist called “Sad but Funky,” and a new costume every week. No one suspects. Not the roommates. Not the neighbors. If anyone ever found out, they’d lie and say it was for a friend’s child’s birthday. Every week. Sure.

╰ Their hobbies are… specific. And objectively hilarious.

Like, not “I read books and do yoga” hobbies. More like: competitive pillow fighting. Binge-watching bug documentaries and taking notes. Collecting socks with political slogans. Writing erotica starring finger puppets (don’t ask). They act normal, mostly. But their browser history is a carnival. And their heart? Pure chaos.

[xclowniex]

Mind boggling how people will say

"Israel causes antisemitism because they know it will drive more jews to live there"

And then immediately contribute to antisemitism.

Like ignoring how blaming Israel, the only jewish country, for antisemitism is inherently antisemitic, if you genuinely believe this and do not want jews to make aliyah, you can easily work towards your goal by making the diaspora safer for jews!

But shocker because you can't ignore antisemitism, people who say that refuse to make the diaspora safer for jews, because this easier to keep us in an unsafe diaspora and make it harder for us to leave than to just be nice to jews.

I wonder where we've seen this rhetoric before? Oh wait yeah, this is what hitler believed. Whilst initially believing that jews moving to Israel would solve Europe's "jew problem" (not that he supported jewish self determination or israel, he just wanted no more jews in europe), Hitler later changed his beliefs to thinking that deporting all jews to Israel is bad because it means that A) jews still exist in the world and B) we could fight back, so the best option was to keep us in the diaspora so he could send us all to concentration camps.

Once again, antisemitism is the hammer which forged the horseshoe because leftists having the same logic as hitler is very horseshoe-core.

And also, assuming israel is creating antisemitism to get jews to move to israel is insane. Like the infrastructure cannot support every single jew moving to Israel. You cannot build millions of homes, wastewater infrastructure, etc within a short time frame to then support this supposedly wanted huge influx of jews too.

Whilst many jews do make aliyah for safety reasons, there are also so many other reasons too.

My grandfather moved as he got birthright citizenship, so it was the easiest place to immigrate to for him to escape my grandma (his insane ex wife). Many jews move to connect with judaism, many move because they simply prefer the country over where they were born/living previously. Some move for work. There are too many reasons for me to list.

[lvsjuno]

( DRA. DOLITTLE ) ▬ Jason Todd!

request: can i ask for a Jason Todd x fem!reader? Where the reader is an absolute sweetheart and adores animals but can kick ass when required. (it would be nice if the reader was a civilian)

Jason todd x fem!reader

note: I'm pretty out of practice, so sorry if it's not what you expected, I need to get back into the swing of things. :)

open request ☆ masterlist

Since you were little, you'd had a special connection with animals. While other children had fun playing with their toys, she spent hours in the garden watching birds, petting the neighbor's cats, or chasing butterflies with a calmness and patience that only someone with her peaceful soul could possess.

As a child, you'd often be yelled at by your family for your respect and love for all animals. I mean, what's so wrong with bringing a toad or a skunk into the house? They're perfectly harmless animals, in your opinion, but not for your family.

You remember with a smile the horrified expressions on your parents' faces when they found creatures of all kinds in the dining room, the bathroom, or even in your bed. You explained with the same seriousness that if they didn't let them in, the animals would have nowhere to go. But your parents, with typical adult concern, didn't share your perspective. Then came your threats: "If you don't let them in, I'll sleep in the garden with them." (Spoiler: you ended up sleeping in the garden... but not with the animals.)

However, that connection with animals never faded. As you grew older, you continued to seek out various opportunities to pursue this vocation. You soon found yourself working in veterinary clinics or shelters, surrounded by puppies, cats, and rescued animals in need of love, attention, and care. Your job became your passion, and every day, as you helped those in need, you felt more at home than ever.

And since passions are very important in people's lives, once again yours, in some way, helped you find the love of your life.

Jason Todd.

The first time you saw him was in the middle of the night, during your shift at the vet. The night was quiet, not too busy, when a tall figure appeared at the door. This time, he came in with a very worried Damian. The boy had been having some trouble with his cat, Alfred. The poor little animal had an ear infection, and Jason had no choice but to accompany him.

Jason, with a serious expression and a slight glimmer of concern in his eyes, approached the counter, glancing at Damian before speaking.

"This is Alfred. He needs help. Do you think you can help him?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice, deep and direct, but with a touch of gentleness when it came to the cat. It was hard not to notice how much he cared about that little creature's well-being. You smiled, approaching Damian to pick up Alfred with the same gentleness you treated all animals.

"Of course, leave it to me. Let's make sure he's okay," you told him calmly, as you began examining the cat.

Jason watched you silently as you cared for him, and for a moment, he seemed completely absorbed in the scene, as if you had something hypnotic about you.

That evening, after a few explanations and some care for Alfred, Jason said goodbye with a simple "thank you" and a glance that lasted a few seconds too long, but what seemed like a casual encounter soon turned into a series of unexpected visits.

But there were later second, third, and fourth visits, all under the guise of needing medication for the pets. He even kidnapped Titus from Damian once to take him for his vaccinations.

The excuses became less and less credible ─as if they had been in the first place ─ until he finally dared to ask you out.

Over time, Jason became a part of your life, as constant and natural as breathing. He was always there: waiting for you at the end of your shifts, accompanying you to rescue animals, or simply showing up with lame excuses to see you.

That night was no different. The sun had already set, tinting the last traces of the sky orange, and you were closing up the vet. Jason had promised to pick you up before going out on patrol, like he always did, making sure you got home safely.

You were cleaning the counter when you heard a noise in the back.

You frowned. It wasn't Jason; he always knocked twice and said your name quietly so as not to startle you. This was different: abrupt footsteps, shadows moving quickly. There was someone else there, just you and them.

You sighed, setting the cleaning cloth aside. You remembered Jason's words: "Come on, babe, you have to know how to defend yourself. I won't always be there for you. If you have to fight, don't hesitate. Strike first."

Smiling softly, almost amusedly, you picked up the safety stick they used to control large animals. It was heavy, but with the training Jason had given you, you handled it fairly easily.

You approached the source of the noise.

In the warehouse, two men were rummaging through supplies, tossing boxes to the floor. They were looking for anything of value, but they found nothing there but medicines and old papers.

"Can I help you with something?" you asked, your voice so soft it almost sounded out of place in the tension of the moment.

Both men turned around. The shorter one smiled cheekily at you. "Relax, honey. We're just looking at. Keep quiet and we won't hurt you."

"Just a look?" You tilted your head, as if you truly believed his words.

The larger man confidently reached out to grab you. But before his hand could even touch you, you acted: you nimbly spun around, dodging him, and slammed your cane down hard on his knees. The man fell like a sack of potatoes, groaning.

The second tried to grab you, but you remembered another of Jason's lessons: "When they're distracted, strike quickly." You landed a precise elbow in his stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, then swept his legs aside in one clean motion.

By the time Jason arrived—walking casually as if he had all the time in the world—the scene greeted him like a comic slap in the face: two men tied up with dog leashes, and you, sitting at the counter, wiping your hands with a wipe as if nothing had happened.

Jason blinked a couple of times. Then he let out a deep, proud laugh, but also a laugh of nervousness, not knowing what had happened.

"Are you..." he looked at the guys writhing on the ground, "practicing without me, princess?"

You smiled at him sweetly.

"Isn't that what you taught me?" you asked, raising an innocent eyebrow.

He crossed the distance in a couple of steps, gently took you by the waist and kissed your forehead with a tenderness that contrasted with his rough appearance.

"You're fucking perfect," he murmured against your skin.

And in that moment, as he called the police with one hand and held you close with the other, Jason thought that teaching you self-defense had been one of the best decisions of his life, and choosing you had been another one of them.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Can i ask for SEA drabble and my Villian Show!Eclipse?

Maybe sheningans involving VS!Eclipse's habbits(stealing or spying) or him "hissing" at family who tries to get along with him

I shall try my best getting the character right, which I'll hopefully achieve

Also, sorry for the delay, had to work on somethin yesterday then head started hurting

Eclipse has to be quick about this, because if he's not then he will be caught, and this cursed Foundation is going to kill him and use him for parts.

He's currently carrying some sort of weapon of mass destruction, one made to be able to take down SCPs, because it'd look real nice in his collection. It might also make future missions easier, whenever he figures out how to get back. Lowering the chances of death and injury seem more than worth any potential consequence from this.

He ignores the thought of green-blue in his vision, dismissing it as he would an annoying file pop up.

He's close to his hiding place now, just around a corner and then he can-

He shouts as the floor disappears from underneath him, but he knows what's happening even before he sees the tired bastard version of himself that lives here. The fucker looks like he's dealing with a goddamed child.

"For the last time, can you please steal stuff better? If you won't stop at least don't make it so obvious"

"Go fuck yours-!"

He's given a reproachful shake by the fucking nightmare fuel holding him, the one he was trying to ignore, thanks, and the only reason he doesn't scream is because that'd be humiliating. And you shouldn't show weakness to an animal or whatever.

"That is no way to speak to family. However much you deny we are that"

Ah yes, that. Because these fucks apparently work like that.

Except the other Eclipse here. The one he really should start calling something else. Something annoying or demeaning.

"Killcode I think it's better to just leave him alone with that talk. You know how I was like when we first met, and I'm certainly not as messed up as this guy"

He glares down at this sorry excuse of a scientist, not even reacting when the beast holding him begins moving.

Looks like he'll be brought back to 'their room'. Which means another round of fighting off strangers who insist on familiality. Great.

He can't wait

.*.*.*.

He clutches at the knife from dinner with a passion, glaring at any SCP that moves closer. The only other animatronic in the room with him is busy sadly, which means these things won't be bothering him. Especially when he's looking over the gun Eclipse stole.

Why can't they just let him keep it?

"So ugh..."

He glares at Lunar, daring the tiny creature to crawl closer to him. He's itching to stab something.

"You wanna play a game or..?"

He stares him down, not even feeling any spark of satisfaction when the little animal begins fidgeting them pulls back altogether. Apparently the comfort of their bed is much more inviting than the couch now.

Good. He plans to keep it that way.

But these things don't give up, because the place of the smallest one is taken up by the spikiest one, the one named Solar Flare, which just simply stares back at him. He doesn't even know if this one is capable of emotion.

Quick to follow it is Bloodmoon, who slinks closer until they can spread out on the fluffy rug. They give him a jaunt little wave, and he's sure it's a taunt of some form. It has to be.

"Are we going to do this every time you're here?"

He glares up at possibly the worst one of the lot, the Moon lookalike, feeling a mechanic growl build in his systems. The only reason he doesn't let it out is because he's sure they'd jump him for it. They probably only need the slightets bit of provocation.

"Fine, whatever. At least move over so Sunny and I can play a game"

Yeah right, move over, closer to the other SCP. Right he's gonna do that.

His silent glaring clearly grates on this Moon's nerves too, because his expression is quick to twitch from annoyance to irritation.

"You can either move willingly or-"

"Moon, that's enough"

Perhaps one of the strangest things here is the Sun, who's much more confident than his own. But it's defenitely not as strange as this Moon listening, taking in a deep breath and moving over. It's weird to see a Moon willingly obey a Sun.

"You can move to the empty side of the couch. We don't mind sitting with our nephew. You are just kind of in the way to the gaming console"

His grip tightens on the knife, but he does begin to shimmy over. No need to provoke these things even more.

"Thank you"

He eyes them warily as they sit down, booting up Don't Starve Together. They don't pay much attention to him after that, which is a little insulting. But he'd rather have this.

The room becomes filled with the sounds of them dying horribly, with the smells of this Killcode cooking, and through it all he stays holed up against the arm of the couch, brandishing his stolen knife at anyone who even dares to look at him.

He can't fucking wait to go home.

[n3rdyslvt]

so many love and deepspace spoilers!!please dont read if you dont want to see me short circuit by the time it gets to raf. i’m literally just rambling about how they ended up in the current timeline. but i do have a conclusion at the end if you want the gist without the word salad :)

xavier + caleb + zayne

anyways i’m reading a summary of the xavier lore from otome kitten (i love having it all collected in one place in a nice timeline) and it has me wondering about how exactly the men got here with all their philos trauma. xavier is easy, we know he travels back to earth (traceback II) and from what i’ve heard zayne doesnt remember his astra trauma. with caleb and zayne i’m inclined to say that this is their first/original life. xavier goes back to the current timeline because this is the timeline in which the aether core is fused to MC’s heart, making it the beginning of her trauma. So, i’m gonna operate under the assumption that the events of this timeline somehow lead to the foreseeker and in multiple lives caleb and mc have this little found family + immense childhood trauma thing going on. in terms of dawn breaker… I don’t have that myth 😝 buttt once i read more zayne lore i might be able to include it somewhere in my timeline

sylus

ok after reading an unrelated reddit post I have remembered that sylus is also very simple. he just came here a little while after the chronorift catastrophe (about 2 years i think) through the deepspace tunnel.

raffy

now we have the hard one. raf should be easy because i have both of his myths but his lore spans so many fucking centuries. with rafayel i dont fucking know guys 😭 i dont know how when they first met (like how 214 years from earth passing mc and xavier meet. the mc cursed to die and be born again in starfall forest) i know god of tides is first then abysswalker because the ocean is dried up (i know i need to listen to fragrant dreams, i just hate that MC isnt voiced too. either voice her or give the bf asmr experience and dont have her talk.) anyways long story short with rafayel its mostly an issue of how is he even in the current timeline??? does he spawn? does lemuria go through constant rises and falls? maybe because he and MC share a heart they share similar challenges where he might be reborn occasionally or forget past lives. i still dont know why he exists on earth or how lemuria really fits. what would help is knowing if rafayel has specific memories of earth and linkon before the chronorift. because theres a theory that MC came through the deepspace tunnel and didn’t actually have an earth family before josephine and caleb sooooooo if thats true then rafayel could remember the lemuria from philos and he and the others that were still alive were simply able to rebuild in linkon after being transported through the tunnel. i knowwwww you’re gonna say “but talia is a famous opera singer and a career like that takes years”. ok yes, but zayne is 27 and the fucking chief cardiac surgeon. theyre mermaids that have lived for centuries. you think she couldn’t use those lovely little vocal chords to propel herself into stardom?? its literally cannon that if talented enough, you can get yourself into any role regardless of age or experience caps.

conclusion

so tldr, xavier and sylus used the deepspace tunnel, caleb and zayne are living their first life like MC… potentially, and rafayel is an anomaly that i cant figure out currently 😫😔 buttt he might’ve came through the deepspace tunnel like MC during the chronorift catastrophe (if MC did)

if you read everything, mwah mwah mwah thank you.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Hiii, first of all, I loved your last fanfic with Geta, your writing is really good 💕

Well, I'm also in my Joseph Quinn era sooo I'd love a fanfic with Eddie

One where the female!reader who was from some big city and moved to Hawkins, she could have become popular very quickly because of that and even though she is surrounded by people who hate Eddie, she starts to like him without caring about others

It would be nice to have smut, but if it doesn't it wouldn't be a problem. I imagine a bold and funny reader, someone that matches Eddie's freakiness really well 👀

Sorry for my English, it's not my mother tongue 😂

Hello darling! Sorry it took a bit to get this out 1) I cannot really write anything short for the life of me and 2) I work too, but I was able to write a little bit of this each day. So without further ado, my very first ask! <3

Big City Girl

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x You

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: You're a new girl in town, fresh in from New York City. Fitting in comes easy to you, but you form unlikely (to your friends) and unapologetic friendship with Eddie Munson. But maybe, just maybe it's even a little bit more.

Warnings: Finger fucking, Fingering, PiV sex, Teenage (but consenting age) sex, public sex, reader is experienced for a teenager and practices smart/safe sex and is protected. And a little bit of fluff! <3

A/N: Please be kind, this s not beta read and it's my first ask! <3 I also put in some random original character as a device to further the plot and character development for the reader.

Read on AO3

Songs mentioned:

It’s only your sixth day in Hawkins Indiana since moving from New York City and just your third at Hawkins High. You hate that your dad’s been placed on special assignment here and during your senior year no less. Not that your dad really cares about anything that you do. You’ve always taken it upon yourself to make the most of pretty much everything in your life, since he was generally nonchalant about anything you do. If you didn’t, who would?  You find out from girls you met in your English class that there are dance team tryouts. You’ve been dancing since you were 3 years old. Trying out just makes sense. 

So here you stand in the middle of the Hawkins basketball court before a row of three people: two coaches and a very pretty, if not also insufferable senior dancer. Other dancers are in the bleachers or walking to and from the locker room as they finish practice. They are all watching and waiting as your knees and hips rock in a rhythmic beat to the opening notes of Laura Branigan’s “Self Control” begins to play over the speakers. You almost smirk as the three glance at each other uncomfortably. You didn't think the song was that sultry, but maybe to people in a small town like Hawkins it was a little scandalous. 

5, 6, 7, and…

You count in your head. 

Each move extends from you like it’s second nature. Each flex and point of your foot are timed perfectly to each beat. Your body rolls and undulates with the melody as though you’ve become possessed by the music. You swear you hear an audible gasp from your coaches as your legs seem to grow longer with each developpé and how you’re able to control and somehow abandon yourself to the music and movement. 

A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)

I'm living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)

Your body slinks with each word until you slip into a series of pirouettes and fouettés before you finish dropping to the floor and finish. The music ends. Your heart is pounding. Your breaths come out in a steady rhythm from the work and heart you put into your dance. Simply put: you kill your audition.  Yet, as you’re regaining your breath, you hear silence as you wait for the feedback from your would-be coaches and potential teammate. A deafening clap strikes through the silence. 

“Are you shitting me? You’re not even gonna clap for the girl?” 

You hear a voice yell out that is filled with such indignance it nearly makes you laugh. You push yourself up from the floor to see who called out praises. You see another Hawkins’ student with long, wavy hair, wearing a denim vest over his worn leather jacket and black jeans. He looks like he belongs in a metal band and it leaves an impression. In contrast, everyone at the courts looks annoyed or disgusted by his very existence. The irony of it makes you hide a smile. So far it seems that everyone in Hawkins looks the same. At least this guy has some personality. He’s looking at you, his brow furrows in indignation as he waves around a broom in one hand, a dust pan in the other. 

“Ugh, can someone please get him?” You hear the senior dancer say with so much disdain that it immediately turns you off to her. “Isn’t he in detention or something?”

“You’re great!” You hear him say as another teacher shuffles him away. “Your kicks were really badass!” 

You can’t help but laugh and give him a little wave before he’s gone. A sigh of exasperation escapes the senior dancer. The coaches glance at each other, saying something quietly to the senior that immediately makes her straighten her posture and attend to your presence. A too big smile fills her face and you know immediately that her jaw must hurt. 

“I mean, as much as I hate to agree with Eddie Munson,” the senior dancer starts as you stand up, “you were absolutely amazing.” 

“Your technique is superb!” One of the coaches says. “Your musicality and your innate ability to feel the music really shined---I don’t want to speak for everyone, but I know I’m so impressed.” 

The other coach nods and opens a folder in front of her, “Your choice of song was a little…mature for high school, but you’re from New York so I guess things are a little different there.”

You squint your eyes in confusion and place your hands behind you as you wait patiently for their feedback. Their small-town judgement feels tangible but you let it roll off you like raindrops on a window. You have to fight to keep from laughing, knowing that whatever criticism they think they are dishing out is nothing compared to your auditions in New York. At 18 years old, rejection is already a bitchy acquaintance of yours.

“I think she would be such an asset to the team!” The senior dancer adds to the discussion. “Who knows? Maybe if we can really focus, the dance team could be competition ready.”

“That’s a pretty heavy undertaking, Kelly,” the coach in the middle says, “but if you think the team is up for it.” 

You make a mental note of the senior dancer’s name, knowing that you are probably going to have a lot of contact with her in future. She jumps up and down as she claps her hands. You don’t like to assume that you’re on the team, so you wait until they tell you. 

“Welcome to the team!!” Kelly squeals as she runs to you. 

“Thanks!” You say with an appreciative nod trying to be at least little bit humble.

She walks with you back to the locker room, interlocking her arm in yours. 

“Don’t mind Coach Thompson about your song choice,” she reassures you. “It’ll be nice to have someone with some edge on the team—can’t move forward without taking little risks, right?”

“Oh yeah, of course!” You concur, as you pull a pair of sweatpants pants and an oversized, cropped t-shirt over your leotard. 

“I just know everyone’s going to love you!” Kelly says with genuine excitement. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’ve already got that cool NYC thing going on.” 

The doors of the school gym open out to a large parking lot. Your cars are parked on opposite sides of the parking lot and she turns to leave. She calls out to you one more time, prompting you to turn around. 

“Oh, and watch out for Eddie Munson,” she mentions with a slight scowl on her face that looks like she’s just smelled something bad. “Trust me, you don’t want to associate with someone like him.”

You press your lips together and just nod. You don't like anyone telling you what to do, especially when it comes to friends. But you also hate confrontation, so you offer her a kind smile, a wave, and a “see you tomorrow.”

A large van is parked only a few spaces from yours. As you walk around the driver’s side you see the Eddie Munson whom Kelly warned you about. He is in the driver’s seat and his eyes move towards you. The New York in you merely wants to ignore and keep walking, but you stop and pivot to face him.

“Hey, hi!” You call out and his eyes shift to his left and right before he looks back at you. “Thanks for the compliment earlier.”

“Oh? You’re actually talking to me! No problem, you were great!” He hops out of the van. “Hey, I’m Eddie, that Eddie Munson.”

“Your reputation seems to precede you,” you say gesturing towards the gym and in the general direction of Kelly’s now departed car. 

“Oh, it quite often does,” Eddie confirms and his eyes lower as he gives you a roguish grin. “Pretty ballsy of you to talk me knowing it’d be social suicide, big city girl.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t be half as good at everything I do, if I spent all my time worrying about what other people think of me,” you say with a shrug, “now would I?”

“Like dancing?” Eddie tilts his head as he gestures at you in your dance gear.

You hum in thought at the question before replying, “Among other things.”

Eddie raises his brow and you see the intrigue that lives there. He brings a hand to his chin and rubs his lips as he thinks about your words. You introduce yourself, playfully with a little curtsy and he responds with a bow in turn. He smiles as he places a hand on the chain that hangs on his jeans. You consider yourself a good judge of character and in this brief face-to-face Eddie seems harmless. 

“Well, it’s getting a little late,” you say as the golden light begins to fade into shades of coral, pink, and dusty purple. “Guess I should go.” 

“Yep,” Eddie says and shakes his head, “just so we can go to bed to do it again tomorrow.” 

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” you reply as you start walking to your car, but turn around quickly to give him a quick wave. “See you around, Eddie Munson.” 

People say that three times is a charm. Maybe this is what they mean. Because on this third day at Hawkins High, you’ve made your first real friend. 

***

It’s an understatement to say how relatively easy it’s been to ingratiate yourself into the Hawkins High community. With the school year almost over, it’s starting to feel almost like home. You get along with everyone and everyone is confused by it, most of all the jocks, the cheerleaders, and nearly everyone on your dance team. 

The halls are abuzz with excitement as the entire school gears up for the next basketball game.  For the first time in a long time, the Hawkins Tigers are headed to the championship.  The season keeps you busy as you and Kelly choreograph dances for halftime at the games. You’ve even been able to convince your coaches and Kelly to get the marching band to play with you during halftime on Friday. 

The shrill bell sounds throughout the halls and countless smiling faces acknowledge and greet you. Vicky, a girl in the marching band, approaches you. Her eyes are shining and her smile is wide on her freckled face. You give her arm a squeeze and you pull her next to you as you walk with Kelly, some of the other girls on your dance team, and a few of the basketball players to the cafeteria. You can feel the judgement emanating from one or two of your teammates as you lock arms with her.

“We’ve been working on stuff for the game on Friday,” Vicky tells you. “It’s going to be so rad!” 

“We can’t wait! We’re still on for the joint rehearsal tomorrow, right?” You ask and she gives you an effervescent nod before she excuses herself to run off with some of her other bandmates. 

“Hey big city girl!!” You look up to see your first Hawkins friend at a locker with some of the members of his gaming club. “Still on for lunch?” 

You flash him a big smile and say, “Wouldn’t miss it, Munson!” 

A freshman, who you think is called Dustin, stands next to Eddie wearing a face of utter shock and follows it by shoving him at his shoulders. The way Eddie follows it by slapping his hand away was like watching a slapstick comedy unfold in real time.  Dustin waves his hand wildly in your direction before Eddie presses a hand to his face and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why do you do that?” Kelly pulls you in close before you enter the cafeteria.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say dryly, already losing enough patience to your New York accent come out a little more as she corners you. 

“Are you, like, being charitable or something?” Exasperation and a hint of embarrassment lace her tone as she continues. 

“Come on, he is actually my friend,” you can’t hide your eyeroll, “not everything is a charity case, Kelly.”

“You need to be careful,” her voice gets sterner. 

You cross your arms over your chest waiting for what she has to say next. 

“You can’t keep leading him on like that. It’s cruel.”

“What?!”

This is news to you. You feel defensive for yourself and protective of Eddie. Kelly obviously has no clue what she’s talking about. 

“I’m not leading him on.” You can feel your face contort into a scowl you can‘t hide. “Why would I do that to him?”

Kelly crosses her arms over her chest and raises one brow at you, “He’s so obviously into you. If you were really his friend, you’d do the right thing and let him down easy.” 

“Whatever,” you scoff and quickly walk away, “I’m going to have lunch with my friend now.”

You rush through the lunch line, grabbing a salad and at the last-minute snatch a small bag of three cookies. After you pay for your lunch, you storm through the cafeteria until you find Eddie at the table where you always sit and plop your tray and yourself in front of him. You’re so annoyed that you don’t even start on your salad, you immediately grab a cookie and start breaking it into bite sized pieces to stuff in your mouth. 

“Uh oh,” Eddie says, watching  cautiously as you eat, “you got cookies, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you reply too quickly as you finish one cookie and turn your attention to your salad. 

“Nope, nope, your face is saying something,” Eddie insists. 

“Honestly,” you sigh, playing with the small vegetables in your meager excuse for a salad, “it’s just stupid dance team stuff.” 

You are quiet not wanting to say anything more, especially with the Hellfire Club sitting with you. Eddie sees how you crawl further into your silence and gestures for the club to leave. The influence he has over them is formidable and you smile as you lean forward and rest your chin in your hand. A warm feeling of gratitude fills you as he presses his arms to lean forward over the table, ready to listen to whatever you choose to say. 

“Kelly’s just being stupid and vapid—,” you begin with a sigh. “Do you even really care?”

“I mean don’t care much about her,” Eddie grimaces, “but it’s bothering you, so—”

“Ugh, it’s honestly just stupid high school shit,” you try to shake it off with a laugh. “What’s up with Dustin? I saw him shaking and shoving you earlier?”

“The boy has no idea of the nuances of being a fifth-year senior,” Eddie quips, “just a child trying to exist in the world of men. Freshmen, am I right?”

“That’s super generous of you to take him under your wing,” you add jokingly, feeling a little more relaxed. 

“I know, right?” Eddie pauses for a moment as though he is deep in thought. “Hey, I’ve got a request to ask of you.”

“Lay it down on me,” you say, holding your palms up to beckon an answer. 

“Well, if you’re offering,” Eddie tilts his head and raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. 

“Perve,” you respond by swatting him lightly on the forearm when you realize the double entendre of the phrase. 

He devolves into a cackle but is able to compose himself enough to return to the conversation. 

“But in all seriousness, I’ve got a gig with my band late on Friday,” he pauses to take a breath, “would you come?”

“You forgot,” you whisper, something like disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach, “Eddie, it’s a big night on Friday, remember?”

“Shit, the championship, that’s right,” Eddie groans with the realization of a memory, “I’m supposed to be there, you already asked—because of your dance.”

“No, I got it,” you say, trying and failing to hide your disappointment. ”It’s ok if you can’t.”

What unsettles you even more is just how upset you are about it. Your dad isn’t going. Your dance team is already going to be there. The prospect of Eddie not going gnaws at you…hard. You barely have time to swim in the thought when Eddie taps your hand lightly with his and offers you a grin.

“Hey, I said I would be there so I’ll be there.” He assures you. “Might have to check out a little early, but I’ll be there. I get it if you can’t make it to the gig, though.”

“Shut up, Eddie,” you tap his hand much in the same way he had yours, “I may be a little late, but of course I’ll be there.” 

***

The effervescent excitement seems to grow this Friday night with each passing minute that the Hawkins Tigers play. The team is ahead by just two points and every student, teacher, and parent in the stands claps, hoots, and hollers. 

When halftime comes, you’re inexplicably nervous. Kelly can see it and she takes a hold of your hand with a determined but also reassuring smile.

“We’ve got this!”

You pace in a small bubble on the sidelines as you wait for the lights to lower and the musical cue to start. At the same time, you’re scanning through the crowded stands looking for Eddie. Your heart sinks when you can’t see him right away. It should be easy enough to spot him, you think, distracted enough to nearly jump in surprise when you feel a pair of hands gently pull you at your waist.

“Hey, big city girl!” It’s loud but he’s pulled you in close enough to say it near your ear.

You spin around and see the touch belongs to Eddie. On instinct you leap forward and wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. It doesn’t happen immediately but you feel a warmth percolate in you when Eddie’s hands roam from your shoulders back down to your waist. 

At nearly the same time both of you back away from each other and hold each other’s gaze for the briefest of moments. It puts you in a near panic. You’ve always known how to act around Eddie, but in an instant it almost all goes away. You push him towards the stands with a playful smile. He winks at you before finding a seat in the stands. 

“Told you he has it down bad.”

You wave her off, keeping your focus on the energy of the game. The beat of the marching band, the noise in the crowd, and the excitement that Hawkins is only fifteen minutes away from possibly winning the championship fuels you as you dance. You and your team are perfectly in unison with every flip, turn, and jump. You do your best to keep your focus on the choreography but can’t help looking up in the stands every now then to see that Eddie’s eyes have not moved once from you. It makes you want to move more and better, playing up every flirty kick, every swing of your hips, and whip of your hair. And faster than it began, halftime is over. The crowd is roaring at the routine’s end and your team and other friends from the marching band surround you with hugs and high fives for a job well done. Your eyes hone in on Eddie who gives you a wave of his hand and a slight bow of his head. He runs and hops down the bleachers and you push past some of your teammates to get to him. 

“That was badass,” Eddie exclaims as he sticks his tongue out, “as close to metal as dance can be.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll take it,” you say as you raise your hand to meet his in a high five. 

You place your hand on his shoulder and smooth it down the back of his jacket, rubbing his back. You didn’t realize how grateful you would feel that he actually showed up. His hand finds the small of your back, finding rest there. A tingling feeling that starts in your stomach takes you by surprise as it grows and makes your heart flutter

“Thank you for coming,” he squeezes your waist as you say it. 

For a moment, you lean forward, bringing your face closer to his. 

No. Don’t do it! What are you doing?

It’s what your voice screams at you inside your head. You swallow the feeling and smile at him, hoping you weren’t being as obvious as you feel you are. 

“See you at the gig?” He sounds hesitant to leave, but you encourage him, ensuring him you will be there with a squeeze of his hand. 

Instead of watching the rest of the game, you’re showering and getting dressed in the locker room. By the time you’re done you can hear the roar of the crowd: a clear indication that Hawkins has won the championship. Kelly rushes in as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Oh my gosh!” She squeaks with excitement. “Where have you been?! You practically missed the entire second half!”

“Um, well, I promised Eddie I’d go to his gig.”

She looks at you up and down. Her perusal of you is especially scrutinizing. You pull at the shoulders of your black off the shoulder to and smooth your mini skirt before putting on your slouchy boots. 

“You’re telling me that you’d rather watch a loser who’s repeating his senior year play with his mediocre band than hang out with us? You know there’s going to be a party.” She scoffs in disbelief. “How you are so popular is beyond me.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m nice,” you answer. “You should try it some time.”

She rolls her eyes and you think she has nothing more to say so you gather your things to leave. 

“You like him, don’t you?” She says it like it’s an accusation of a crime. 

You stop at the door and take a deep breath. It feels like a relief when she says it.

“Maybe I do.” 

You shrug and walk out the door, whatever celebrations that Hawkins bathes in, you know it’s not for you.

*** 

You pull your sedan up to a questionable looking bar and see Eddie’s van parked off to the side. It’s a different kind of grime than what you’re used to in New York. As you walk in you are hit instantly with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. There are a few scattered patrons passively listening to Corroded Coffin. Eddie’s back is to you, when he turns around, he’s holding a guitar pick in his mouth and his eyes brighten when he sees you. Your breath hitches when you look up at him on stage. The jeans he’s wearing are tighter than usual, as is his shirt. Your eyes can’t help but traverse his body from head to toe. There is a presence when he holds his guitar that you’ve not had the pleasure of beholding. He kneels at the edge of the stage and smiles, his dimple appearing like a cherry on top of a sundae. 

“Jesus Christ, you’ve got a lot of nerve  sweetheart,” his brown eyes sparkle as he smiles and looks at you up and down, “showing up to my show looking like that. Especially if you don’t mean it for me.” 

Eddie and you have always skirted that flirting line. But tonight, even since the game, you can just feel the way he looks at you and the way he talks to you is just different. You lean forward at the edge of the stage and Eddie’s eyes travel so obviously over every curve of your body once again. You like it. You like the way he sees you. And more than anything, you like the feeling of wanting him. 

“Come here,” you beckon him to come closer with a curl of your finger. “Who else would I do it for?”

He melts forward and you tug at the collar of his leather jacket, pressing your lips to his. He stumbles at first, not expecting for you to be so bold. But it doesn’t take long for him to part your lips with his tongue. You squeeze his face with your hand as you devour his supple lips in a long, messy kiss. 

“Unexpected,” he murmurs after you let go of one another’s lips, “and even better than I imagined.”

You caress his face and use your thumb to wipe off a bit of your rosy-colored lip gloss that transferred to his lips from yours. 

“Your lips are soft,” you sigh as you take in every feature of his handsome face and imprint it on your brain. 

“Hey, don’t say that too loud, I’ve got a reputation to uphold,” he teases. 

You shrug playfully and he shakes his head at you when he stands up. He pushes his guitar forward and keeps his eyes on you as he makes a few loud strums of his guitar. You barely pay attention to the lead singer as he announces whatever song they are going to play next. The amplified sound of the drums, bass, the rhythm guitar, and Eddie on lead guitar vibrates in your blood. You don’t even know how many songs they’ve been playing. It’s impossible to take your eyes off Eddie. The way his fingers move up and down the frets of his guitar simultaneously hypnotizes and awakens something deep inside you. You press your lips together, nearly biting your bottom lip as you stifle back a moan. 

And he knows. He knows you’re watching him and wanting him. So, he taunts you by turning the neck of his guitar right at you. You give it back in the only way you know how at this moment: you play with your necklace, caress your bare collar bone, and draw your fingers down to your décolletage. 

The band breaks for a moment and you watch as Eddie grabs a bottle of water on a stool at the back of the stage. The way his lips wrap around the mouth of the water bottle while keeping his eyes on you is obscene. A bit of water drips on his lips down to his chin where he wipes it away with a swipe of his thumb. You hold back another moan and hear the lead singer say something about playing a Black Sabbath song for their final encore. No Stranger to Love. It’s a favorite of Eddie’s. He plays the guitar solo as though it’s an extension of himself, his fingers pressing, gliding, and flicking at the strings. It has you quivering and dreaming about what his fingers would be like on and in you. 

You find your way to a dark corner away from the stage as Eddie lingers there unplugging his guitar from the amp before placing it gingerly in its case. From your peripheral you see some young women eyeing him from another corner of the bar. He doesn’t even notice them as he hops down from the stage straight to you. 

There is no judgement here as you pull Eddie to you by his belt loops. His full lips curl into an amorous smirk as he wraps his strong, large hands around your waist until they settle firmly on your ass. He acts like it’s his mission to drive you crazy. Your eyes do a cautionary sweep of the bar and when you see no one is watching you, you pull him with you into the ladies’ bathroom and lock the door behind you. 

“Oh wow, it’s cleaner in here than the guy’s bathroom,” he notices before you back him into the wall, eliciting a carnal moan. “Fuck, woman.”

You silence him with a kiss and you bite his lips as you push his leather jacket off him and onto the floor. He squats a little and lifts and spins you until your back is against the wall. 

“Tell me what you want,” he growls before kissing and nipping at your neck and ear.

His hands move all over your body from your ass, to your waist, through your hair as he devours your lips with his. A breathless moan escapes you as you try to get your brain to work so you can answer. 

“Let me feel what your fingers can do, please…Eddie,” you whine, not caring how desperate you sound.

“Take off your panties,” he demands and it feels as though you can’t comply fast enough. 

They settle beneath you on the floor as Eddie pushes your legs out wide and lifts up your skirt so his fingers can find your mound. His touches are slow at first tapping and pressing on your outer folds like they’re the frets of his guitar. And then it happens: he pushes one finger in and you gasp and keep your eyes on him, until you’re gasping again when he pushes in a second one. 

“You are already so wet for me.” He moans into your ear and then forces you to keep your eyes on him. 

You adjust to the thickness of his fingers and clench around them as he pushes them faster and faster inside you. His fingers find your clit and at first swipe of it, you cry out and grasp his arm to keep yourself from collapsing from the pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Eddie coaxes as you press your face to his, as he continues his ministrations: flicking, swirling, and rubbing your sensitive bud. “Come for me.”

New sounds bleed through the door. Another is band playing and you’re grateful for it. You can be a little louder. He feels too good to keep silent. He continues whispering in your ear to come, come, and come again. You nearly collapse on him when you do and you still muffle your moan by burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Jesus,” you say with a sigh before you kiss him again. 

He envelops you with his arms and you lean against him, your mini skirt still riding up. He pushes his hips towards you and you can feel his manhood straining against his jeans. It’s pulsing like a heartbeat against your thigh and you writhe against him as your center beats in response.

“I need you,” you moan into his ear. “Take it out.”

“Jesus, am I dreaming?” Eddie exhales as you cup your hand over his jeans. “Are you really sure?”

“It’s not my first rodeo, baby,” you whisper to him, licking and kissing his neck to his jaw and back to his lips. 

“I don’t have a c—,” he stutters as you unbutton the top of his jeans. 

“Don’t need it, I’m protected,” you assure him. “Please…Eddie.” 

The sound of him unzipping and dropping his jeans to his ankles is almost as good as his guitar solo. You look down at him: uncut, slightly longer than average, and the perfect girth. He pushes forward and lifts your right leg high so your knee wraps around his waist. With a steady hand he lines himself up at your slick folds, giving you barely enough to think before he pushes deep inside you. All that leaves your lips is a wanton moan as he pushes you against the wall to leverage you a little higher. His hips rock slowly into you at first, like the crescendo of a guitar solo. His cock throbs and twitches with each thrust and you can’t help but squeeze him tight inside you. The breaths you both inhale and exhale, grow faster with the heat of your sex. He thrust faster, faster, and faster still as the sheer euphoria starts to take over you both. 

“Oh shit, baby,” he groans as his thrusts become more desperate. 

“Eddie!!” You whine as you bounce on his cock, wrapping your arms desperately around his shoulders and back digging your nails into his skin through his shirt. “Oh fu-fuck.”

He drives into you as hard as he can, his mouth dropping open as your pussy gives his cock one final squeeze. You let out one final cry when he spills into you, shaking and trembling with you in your final climax. 

He stays inside you for a few moments and lets out a bittersweet gasp when he pulls out. He pulls up his underwear and pants, tucking his cock in still slick with you. He picks your panties off the floor and helps you back into them. But before he pulls them completely up, he traces the outside your folds pushing his cum even deeper inside. You let out a sensitive whimper and lean against him with one arm until he finally pulls your underwear up all the way. 

“I want you to feel my cum in your panties when we walk out of here,” he growls. 

You respond with an exhale and a smile before giving him another long, deep kiss. You smooth your skirt the best you can. When you see yourself in the mirror, you do what you can to comb your fingers through your wild hair and attempt to hide how blissed out you look. Eddie is putting his leather jacket back on and comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You lean back against him and he leans his head towards yours. 

“Beautiful, popular, talented, and kind,” Eddie whispers as he squeezes you even tighter before kissing you on the cheek, “What will everyone think if they find out you’re sleeping with Eddie Munson?”

You turn around and tug at the collar of his leather jacket. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call that sleeping.”

His laugh rings out in his signature raspy, cackle you find so endearing. It’s so infectious you have to kiss him again.

“And besides, since when have I ever cared about what anyone ever thought about me or who I’m dating?”

“Well, that’s my girl in a nutshell, isn’t it?” Eddie confirms with a gleam of pride in his eyes.

“Only if it’s your nutshell.”

He can’t hold back the laughter and neither can you. After you are able to compose yourself, you hold a hand out and Eddie takes it. He laces his fingers between yours and you unlock the door to the bathroom. An ease settles over you as you open it. If there were any eyes of judgement on the other side, you know that you and Eddie will face it together.

[teenagefeeling]

my "moving to minneapolis" fantasy has never been stronger tbh

[that-butch-archivist]

Making a birthday cake for a friend tonight (something I haven't done for a while), and I forgot how much I love baking & cake decorating. I'll post pics when I'm done, I'm very excited. 🥰

[hauntingofhouses]

Thinking about the crazy love triangle situation in Blue Eye Samurai and debating heavily with myself on how I'd like to see it conclude. And yeah this discussion can be thought of purely as shipping, headcanons, and fandom fun. But when analysing the show and engaging with it in a more in-depth, almost-literary level, it's impossible to dismiss who Mizu's potential love interests are and how different endgame romances would affect her character arc and the overall story and themes.

So in this post I'd like to look at the love triangle a bit more closely, and speculate on where the story will take this.

DISCLAIMER: It is my personal interpretation of the text that Mizu is non-binary—I use this as an umbrella term denoting any gender that does not adhere to the binary restrictions, norms, and expectations of what it means to be either a man or woman in a particular society; it's not just an androgynous "third gender" that exclusively uses they/them pronouns. Thus, while I personally believe Mizu is not strictly a cis woman, she does still identify with womanhood, despite definitely feeling a level of detachment from it due to living as a man for so long. With that being said, I will be using she/her pronouns for Mizu in this post, but please note that this is purely personal preference. Everyone is free to interpret the text the way they like. That's the fun of fiction. Now, without further ado, let's proceed.

Okay so, thinking about the pairings on a purely surface level, and even before i got into the show, I was pinning my hopes on some lesbianism going on between Mizu and Akemi, and the show does hint at this; in Ep1, during their first encounter in Kyoto, there is the famous slow-mo shot of their eyes meeting, Mizu's lips slightly parted as she is unable to tear her gaze away from Akemi, while sweet string music plays in the background. This is clear romantic framing, and a marker of attraction. If Mizu was a cishet man, there would be no question that this is a potential love interest.

But then, in the same episode, we meet Taigen, who is introduced to us firstly from hearing Akemi's father describe him as "a fierce and undefeated young samurai", the "best swordsman in the best school" and "a fisherman's son from Kohama [...] whose rise reminds [him] of [his] own."

In the next scene, we meet him in person as Akemi's fiance, and he seems sweet enough. He even gives her sweets! In exchange, Akemi gives him gold, and he feels a bit ashamed that he doesn't have anything better to offer her. But Akemi accepts him and his gift wholeheartedly and flirts with him a little, which makes him smile kinda shyly.

When Akemi confirms their engagement, Taigen is in disbelief because he has no status or noble background, but Akemi reassures him.

So from these first few scenes, we're introduced to Taigen as an honourable and strong samurai, but also as a man who is sweet and gentle with the woman he is about to marry, as well as aware of his own inferiority when compared to Akemi's high station.

Our view of him then changes as his true self is revealed: he is an arrogant and smug bastard among his peers, but more importantly, he is the terrible bully from Mizu's childhood.

And it is this side of Taigen--pompous jerk and unrepentant xenophobic bully--that we continue to see as the show goes on, and it's safe to say that this is his real self, sans any pretense of humility and modesty. Around anyone who isn't an outright superior in terms of class and power (ie. Akemi's father, the shogun), Taigen never hesitates to assert his own authority and "greatness."

But as the show goes on, he gets caught by Heiji Shindo's men, and then tortured. And that's when we see, okay, turns out he's not that bad. He's honourable; "honour" is not just meaningless and superficial pedantry for him, but an internalised, guiding principle.

He was a cruel asshat throughout Mizu's childhood, but in a prejudiced and xenophobic society, he was just playing by the rules. As a child, he knew he was at the bottom of society, but when met with someone even lower ranked than him (Mizu), he can project all those prejudices and insecurities onto someone else. This way of thinking--"if you can't beat 'em, join em"--is what allowed him to climb up the ranks despite being some dirt poor kid from an abusive household*.

*Well, that combined with his cismale privilege of course, because this would not be an option for a woman in similar circumstances.

Thus, his upholding of honour also exemplifies how Taigen embodies the ideals and rules of his society. His insistence on duelling Mizu is another more blatant example of this. He doesn't want revenge like Mizu does. He wants to be accepted by society, within the bounds that society has placed, and that means that his only two options following his defeat at the Shindo dojo were to either chase Mizu down and get his damn duel, or kill himself for his humiliating defeat.

Now! Moving on from Taigen, let's go back to the other end of this little love triangle: Akemi.

Mizu and Akemi only properly meet in Ep4. During their first meeting, when Akemi tries to poison Mizu in Madame Kaji's brothel, she compliments Mizu's eyes, calling them "beautiful."

This seems to genuinely take mizu off-guard for a second before she coolly plays along. We know that Mizu recognises Akemi from the get-go, and thus sees through Akemi's ploy from a mile away. It's also safe to assume she'd expected false flattery, because Mizu understands full well that this tactic is how women get what they want: by using their 'feminine wiles' and playing up their naivety and innocence. But even so, it's interesting that Mizu actually seems surprised by Akemi's compliment.

Then, after Mizu subtly taunts Akemi by lying about Taigen's death, she and Akemi have a bit of a scuffle, and then we get to Mizu saying this:

"Women in our world don't have a single good option. Except you, like some magical forest creature. You could have anything you want, but then you beg to eat trash."

(no screenshot because it's quite a long line but you get it)

Here we see Mizu's opinions on the marginalisation of (mostly poor and under-privileged) women stated outright, and underlying her words is also resentment. Because even though she and Akemi have shared experiences of female oppression, Mizu, unlike Akemi, was also poor, from a rural village, and is a racial minority. Mizu is triply oppressed, while Akemi only faces one primary form of oppression, and to someone as embittered by the world as Mizu is, to see Akemi "beg to eat trash" is a slap in the face, practically tone-deaf to the other injustices around her--injustices which Akemi has not shown much, or any, acknowledgement for at this point.

Then, after this scene, Mizu kills Kinuyo, and this unsettles her to a degree we've never seen from her before. She is visibly distraught, and the entire sequence hammers the theme of this episode (and arguably, a large portion of the show) into our heads: women in this world suffer. And even though Mizu is well aware of this fact, to commit this act is so visceral that is shakes her to her core, and it's what ultimately leads to the ambush of the Thousand Fangs.

But before the ambush, Mizu and Akemi talk a little again, and during this time Akemi taunts Mizu some more.

Right now, Mizu is exhausted to the point where (I believe) she even downs some sake, despite not usually drinking. Thus, worn down, she cuts Akemi's ropes and tells her, "Just go." Akemi recovers from her initial fear of Mizu's blade and taunts her some more, accurately seeing through Mizu's facade of coldness, recognising the raw anger there, and says this:

"I thought you had to be something special. Your face isn't even so scary. You're just... angry."

At this, Mizu is amused and compares Akemi to Taigen ("I see why he likes you. You're just like Taigen when we were children. A fucking brat.")

The reveal that Mizu and Taigen knew each other in childhood surprises Akemi, but before either of them can say more, everything goes to shit.

That's when we get to Ep5. This episode focuses primarily on Mizu, the central piece of this love triangle, and does the most out of all the episodes to shed some light on her character and goals, fleshing her out to be more than just the vengeful, highly proficient samurai we've seen thus far (symbolised by The Ronin), but also a person who is capable of love, domesticity and gentleness (symbolised by The Bride). But in the end, Mizu rejects both these ideals, instead becoming an Onryo, who is neither guided by pride/honour, nor love.

By 'reincarnating' into an Onryo, Mizu is able to win the day and save the women in the brothel. However, as she has now fully embraced her status as an Onryo, and is exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally, she lets the Tokunobu clansmen take Akemi away while Akemi's screams echo in her ear.

Mizu says this choice is for Akemi's own good, that Akemi's better off; because Mizu is jaded and weary, and cannot afford the luxury of idealism, and thus must always be strictly practical and realistic. So of course that's why, in her view, yes, Akemi should not be wasting her time in a brothel where women are exploited and abused, nor should Akemi be so naive to think that her marriage with Taigen is even still possible. However, regardless of Mizu's views, it is not for her to decide, because though Akemi is privileged in some sense, she is still trapped and voiceless, and deserves the right to choose her own destiny.

But as it happens, in the end, though Akemi did not choose who she gets to marry, she DOES get to choose her next move when Edo burns down.

"I want to be great."

This one line is the key to her entire arc, which is only just beginning. We see she quickly has acquired the affection and good graces of the shogun's son after their wedding night and consummation, and with Madame Kaji and the girls now serving her, Akemi will only grow to become a prominent political player.

NOW, only after analysing the characters as they are within this season, only can we speculate how their arcs will continue as the show progresses.

First and foremost, I will reassert the popular opinion that Mizu and Akemi are foils. The climax (pun intended) of Ep7 illustrates this as it parallels the turning points in both Mizu's and Akemi's arcs:

Mizu melts the steel of all her loves and shames, the people she's collected: the broken blade wielded by both Chiaki and Taigen, Akemi's knife, Ringo's bell, Master Eiji's tongs - this symbolises her beginning to accept herself, and in doing so, also accepting the help of others;

Akemi consummates her marriage with Takayoshi Itoh, gains his affection, and cements her position as a woman in the shogun's palace - this symbolises her taking charge of her situation, no longer playing the damsel, but using her position to her advantage, empowering both herself and the underprivileged women around her.

These are thus two directly contrasting, diverging journeys:

Mizu's arc moves inward (yin). It is an internal path of self-love and self-discovery, focused on finding peace and tranquility inside herself, and this involves allowing herself to let others into her life, opening herself up to friendship and empathy once more.

Akemi's arc moves outward (yang), it is an external path of growth, transforming from a naive, caged princess to a powerful woman and a force to be reckoned with.

Akemi is always dressed in red, even her eyes are a bit of a reddish-brown rather than brown-black like most other characters, and in her penultimate scene she stands against a backdrop of flames. She is fire: quick-tempered, passionate, full of energy. Red is powerful, authoritative, and in eastern cultures, it is associated with prosperity.

Mizu is blue: her eyes, her sword, her clothes. She is also named after water; it's where she goes to recover, reflect and meditate. Water is fluid like a brook weaving around a stone in its path, always changing and adapting, it is graceful, it is beautiful and ruthless, tranquil yet swift.

Thus, in the future, I expect we will see plenty of political manoeuvring and intrigue in Akemi's plotline, where she fully embraces control of her life, and begins to take action to help others as well, realising that her own oppression is just one piece in a much larger picture. Her main conflict is with society.

In direct contrast, Mizu's main conflict is with herself. She must realise that her desire for vengeance is a projection of her own deep-rooted self-hatred. Her arc must move towards unpacking her feelings and trauma so she can be at peace with herself and allow space for love in her heart. Because as we saw in Ep5, Mizu had come extremely close to achieving peace and joy, as she had not only loved Mikio, but also had briefly believed that Mikio had loved her (and accepted her for who she is) as well.

Thus, assuming the story is not planned as a tragedy, Mizu will likely end up getting her vengeance, but it will not satisfy her, because it is not what she needs. What she needs is to let go of the Onryo within her and to reconcile both The Ronin and The Bride within herself, as she is both a fighter and a lover, but not a monster.

(Edit: I recommend checking out this post by @stylographic-blue-rhapsody for a much clearer analysis about Mizu'a symbolism as Ronin, Bride and Onryo!)

And now that we've mostly covered each of the characters individually, we can finally get to the main point of this post: the love triangle.

--

Let's talk about Option A: Akemi.

As I covered extensively earlier, Mizu and Akemi are foils, a yin-yang pair. But while they play off each other very well in a thematic sense, I personally believe that a serious romance between them will be more complicated if they become endgame. This is because Akemi's natural resolution is to embrace a position of power and influence, where she has both freedom and control over herself and to make much-needed changes in a prejudiced society. Meanwhile, Mizu's natural resolution is the opposite; her happy ending would to find a peaceful life where she is safe and free from prying eyes, and able to be her true self.

Thus, it would make very little sense for Akemi to forfeit power and run away with Mizu and start a humble life together. Akemi wants to be great, and that is absolutely what she deserves. On the other end of the spectrum, it would also make little sense for Mizu to dedicate her life in service of Akemi, such as acting as a bodyguard or something similar, because a life in a palace full of court intrigue and conspiracies is far from what Mizu needs to be happy.

With that being said, if Mizu/Akemi is endgame, and assuming their overarching character arcs do not shift directions, their love story would likely be either tragic, doomed, or bittersweet. I do absolutely love this type of story because personally I'm a sucker for catharsis, so it would be very interesting if the writers do decide to take this route.

Also, as a note, please do not take this as me dunking on this pairing. This is just my personal opinion and analysis and I completely understand if you disagree!

--

Then, of course, we have Option B: Taigen.

Between Akemi and Mizu, Taigen is a bit of a free-floater here, because Season 1 leaves off at a point where his arc is very ambiguous as to where it's headed. While Akemi climbs for greatness and Mizu goes on a journey across the ocean to (presumably) discover more about her heritage, we have little clues about where Taigen is headed. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure he has no idea either! He still hasn't reclaimed his honour, so he would be unable to rejoin the Shindo Dojo; he's been rejected by Akemi; and while he showed loyalty to the shogun, the shogun is now dead, and all the shogun's men who had witnessed his "humiliating" death were left to die by Lady Itoh, who is now pulling the strings within the palace.

Therefore, Taigen has very few options here.

And when considering his role in the story is as Mizu's begrudging ally, his arc will undoubtedly be focused on unlearning his xenophobia and misogyny, the latter of which we have not seen yet, but is surely present. Now, whether he will do this in Mizu's presence or absence will be unknown until we see Season 2. Following the Season 1 finale, he might return to Kohama and wait for Mizu there as he learns humility and remorse over his past cruelty; or maybe he will follow Mizu to London, and the two of them will continue to butt heads until he finally admits to himself that he cares for Mizu more than he would like to admit. There is no room for doubt that his growing feelings for Mizu are more-than-platonic, because we all saw him get turned on by sparring with her in Ep7 lol. Thus, regardless of the exact choice he makes, I am sure that his overall arc will be focused on redeeming his character.

Now, when it comes go redeeming him, I know there are many who simply don't want him redeemed because he was such a jerk to Mizu, and while yes I agree he was awful, I do believe there is also nuance to his character.

Previously I've discussed in great detail the colour and elemental symbolism with Mizu and Akemi, but have yet to touch on how they relate to Taigen. So, let's talk about that for a second.

While Akemi is red and Mizu is blue, Taigen is green.

Green is a complementary colour to Akemi's red. Complementary colours are directly opposite each other in the colour wheel; when mixed, they neutralise each other, but when put side-by-side, they form a pleasing and impactful contrast that boosts the brightness and prominence of both colours. This mirrors Taigen and Akemi's relationship. They are an "ideal" pair because they complement each other very well, and bring out each other's most prominent traits. Mizu's comment about their similar "brattiness" comes to mind here.

Green is also an analogous colour with Mizu's blue. These colours are sitting right next to each other on the colour wheel; their natural similarity makes it easy for them to form a cohesive overall appearance, but using both in equal amounts will make a design overwhelming and too busy. Thus, the best way to use analogous colours is to make one the dominant colour, while the other will serve as an accent. I feel this also speaks to the dynamic in Taigen and Mizu's relationship. They came from the space place, both from nothing; they're both strong fighters who love the sport, and work well together when fighting side-by-side; however, they butt heads too easily, mirroring how analogous colours can be too overwhelming when used in equal amounts. Thus, to work together in harmony, one has to be the dominant colour, while the other serves as the accent. In this case, the dominant force would be Mizu, as she is the protagonist of the story, while the accent would be Taigen.

By fulfilling this role as an "accent" to Mizu, Taigen's character would easily be slotted in as a the love interest. This is in contrast with a Mizu/Akemi relationship, whereby Akemi is Mizu's foil before she is Mizu's love interest. This is because, by being a love interest, a character usually takes a backseat in the story, serving the plot and the themes by playing a purely supportive role, and this is not possible in Akemi's case because her character exists to parallel and contrast Mizu (red and blue), and not to support her.

It is possible to serve as a supporting love interest in Taigen's case however. And this is because he, unlike the other characters, does not currently have a definitive place within the story. He initially served the plot as an antagonistic force, but now as he is slowly unlearning his prejudices and becoming a better person, he can no longer serve the story by acting purely as a rival.

Instead, he will serve the story by literally supporting Mizu. And this relates to Taigen being earth, which is steady, firm and reliable, unwavering in loyalty and principles, hardworking and rooted in stability, which is seen in Taigen's staunch and inflexible obedience to the traditions and rules of society. These traits are what make him a perfect samurai, but not a good man. However, unlike most people in their world, Taigen is still capable of change and redemption, which is why Mizu says that he has the potential to be great. Not great by way of power or glory, but great in character. Already, he is honourable to a fault, and does not betray Mizu even after she technically robbed him of everything he was striving towards. And when he was shot by an arrow in the chasm, he did not hesitate a second to tell Mizu to use him as a human shield and save herself.

The trigger for his redemption is Mizu. If she had never beat him in that duel, Taigen would live on to become a man like Akemi's father. Cruel, power-hungry, controlling, conservative. But through Mizu, Taigen's sharp edges are ground down, much like water that wears down the stones in a river.

Where Mizu and Akemi's possible love story would be a clash of wills, full of passion and even heartbreak, a possible love story between Mizu and Taigen would be the wearing down of souls. Mizu would make Taigen a better person, and in turn Taigen would dedicate his full respect and support to Mizu as his equal, thus getting her to slowly open up and love herself. Already, Taigen has grown enough to admit (begrudgingly, and in his own Taigen way) that Mizu is better than him; though, clearly, he still has a long way to go, as he still calls Mizu a demon shortly after that.

But basically, Taigen is a very simple man (his main goal now is "to be happy"), and Mizu has great depths that he cannot yet fathom. For this love story to work, it has to begin with Taigen changing for the better. If he succeeds in that, and is able to accept Mizu for all her complexities, I believe that they will make a formidable pair. And though he'd likely still throw a jab or snarky remark at Mizu every now and then, I think he'd come tl wholeheartedly admire Mizu as a brilliant swordsman and a kind soul. Thus, should things work out and this be endgame, Taigen would be able to provide Mizu with what Mikio could not: an idyllic life that is not built on a lie, but mutual trust, respect, admiration, and equality.

Or hey, maybe they could both make their own dojo together! I don't know.

(Edit: This post by @rinandsketches does a great job at delving into Taigen's character and a potential Mizu/Taigen relationship if you'd like to read more about this angle!)

--

Now, as I move on from Taigen, there are a couple more options on how to resolve this love triangle and that includes Option C: Ringo.

In this option, Mizu does not have an endgame romance with either Akemi or Taigen. In this route, she finds peace and love through friendship, solidarity, and a found family between herself, Ringo and Master Eiji—a bunch of outcasts in society who make a strong trifecta of sword-makers.

Also, as an aside while I'm talking about Ringo, I'd like to point out that I believe his element is air and his colour is a neutral grey; he is talkative, easy-going, wise, curious, light on his feet (stealthy) and free-spirited, which are all traits linked to air, and traits that complement Mizu nicely, as he is capable of getting Mizu to open up and trust others again, while Mizu helps him reach his true potential for greatness.

--

And finally, there's Option D: Polyamory.

This is basically an "all of the above" option, in which everyone wins and it's a super duper happy ending. It would also be awesome to get some polyamorous representation, and seeing the dynamic between Akemi/Mizu/Taigen play out would be very entertaining and refreshing. So, you never know, this just might be the true endgame!

--

AAAAND with that, I close my extremely long analysis of what is essentially Mizu's love life. Whatever the final outcome of this love triangle though, I just hope it will be well-written and satisfying to all the characters' respective arcs. (Also I just want Mizu to be HAPPY goddamn it because she deserves the world and her coochie eaten out)

Now, I highly doubt anyone will read any of this (especially not until the end!) but that's fine. I just have so many thoughts and feelings about this show and I just needed to get this out of my system lol! But if by some miracle you did read this far, I wholeheartedly welcome any sharing of thoughts and ideas because man am I obsessed with this show! But of course, if we have an opposing opinions, please be respectful when letting me know; I am very open to friendly discussions.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

masterlist

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Yours, Mine, Ours

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”

“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”

You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.

Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.

Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.

Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.

Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.

Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.

You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.

It was yours.

Yours, and Simon’s.

The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.

You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.

Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.

For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.

He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.

And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.

He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.

He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.

He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.

The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.

Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃? 𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ⋆⭒˚.⋆༄

—gojo satoru x fem! reader

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ your husband’s already given you two children, one more wouldn’t hurt right?

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ cw: fluff, smut, breeding, praise, petnames, squirting, impregnation, dirty talk

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ a/n: requested by anon, i loved writing this so much

Eight years.

You and Gojo had been married for eight years. Having met each other in high school, him being the one to get down on one knee the second you both had finished college. He knew you were the one for him ages ago.

That you were his from the moment he met you.

Some would say that you two were living the dream life, despite how young you both were. Gojo never hiding the fact that he was willing to spoil you day by night.

He loved you more than anything. And he never failed to show that through the many acts of affection. His favorite one being buried deep inside you as he whispered the sweet nothings into your ear.

The sex drive of your marriage was high, that was a fact. It was how you ended up with two children in the first place. Two girls who looked exactly like their dad, not even bothering to try with your genes. They had his complexion, his hair, his overly beautiful eyes. They had everything of his.

When you had your first daughter, most people in your life assumed she was an accident. Assumed that Gojo had simply “forgotten” to pull out.

They didn’t know how noisy you’d gotten that night, holding onto your husband tightly as you begged him to fill you up. Begged him to put a baby in you. You wanted to feel all of him.

Your second child was all him. Him begging to give you another one. To pump you nice and full with one more baby. And who were you to say no? You two were building a family and you loved it.

Four and two.

Those were your daughters’ ages, beautiful girls who looked almost identical to each other, obviously. You liked to call them and Gojo triplets. And it made his heart swell knowing that they were something you had both created. Together. Even though they clearly had a favorite already.

His daughters clung to him every second that he was around them. Refusing to let daddy go as your youngest sat in his lap with an adorable grin. Giggling softly as her big sister tied scrunchies into the soft bed of white hair.

“Mommy look! Daddy’s all pretty now,” she clapped, clearly proud of her work as she pulled lightly at the short ponytails.

You watched Gojo grumble under his breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked up at your standing frame. Cheeks tinted red when you laughed softly. “He is baby, he’s very pretty now. Looks just like you two.” Leaning down to peck both their cheeks with a smile of your own.

You yelped softly as you were pulled down, sat on the other side of your husband’s lap as he smirked. “You know who’s just as perfect as you two? Your mommy.”

Your older daughter hummed, cuddling into your lap with a nod. “You are very pretty mommy. Wanna look like you when i get big.”

You couldn’t find the words. As much as you knew that was impossible, it warmed your heart to the core. Especially when your other daughter nodded in agreement, fitting herself on you beside her sister. “You’re very very pretty mommy.”

“Thanks my babies.” You smiled warmly, an arm wrapped around each of them as Gojo wrapped one around you. “Now, you owe me a little kiss too.” He pouted. You giggled, pressing your lips to his in a short kiss before pulling away.

Neither of you wanting to hear the exaggerated ewww that escaped from your daughters’ mouths when you kissed for even a second too long.

You liked to think that you got lucky to have such sweet children. The kind that makes others actually want a child of their own.

—

You loved your life. Everyone could see that. But it had been way too long since you and Gojo were able to spend some alone time together.

It wasn’t your idea, it was his. And you couldn’t not give in when you allowed yourself to think about it. A weekend all to yourselves with complete privacy. A chance for you both to relax.

It was Friday, and you rung the doorbell to your dear friend Nanami’s house, a childish grin on Gojo’s face as he waited for the door to swing open.

Nanami raised a brow upon seeing you two, a cup of coffee in his hand as if you’d interrupted his peaceful morning.

“Uncle Kentooo!!” Two high pitched voices rung out. Little legs running to hug the blond man by his own. Nanami’s eyes widened momentarily, steadying the mug in his hand away from the two latching on to him.

A small smile gracing his face when they grinned up at him. “Well hello you two.”

Gojo grabbed the cup from his friend when your daughters started making upsie signals with their hands. Nanami picking them both up on either side of his torso, turning sharply on his heel as he asked them about their week.

“If that isn’t the sweetest thing I don’t know what is.” You giggled, Gojo’s hand on the small of your back as you brought in two pink princess bags. “So.. Kento-”

“We need a favor.” Gojo was quick to cut to the chase, Nanami not bothering to even watch him as he let small hands play in his hair. His emotions far from the bored expression on his face.

“I’ll watch them.”

“Thank you so much Kento. My parents will be coming for them tonight.” You smiled, the man only nodding with a hidden shrug. “You’re just lucky they’re nothing like him.” Pointing his head in the direction of the man sat next to you.

“Hey!” Gojo gasped in faux offense, “I’m awesome thank you very much.”

Nanami only scoffed. And you and Gojo stood up to give your girls a final hug and kiss to their foreheads. “We’ll see you on Sunday okay my darlings? Grandma and grandpa will come for you later yeah? Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”

“Uh huh, bye mommy, bye daddy!” They sung together, something else that they tended to do from time to time.

As you walked out of Nanami’s house, ready to go home and pack a few clothes, your head tilted. Confusion evident on your face when you looked up at Gojo. “Doesn’t he have work today?”

“Yeah but he adores them. He’d skip work everyday if he had to.”

It was true, Nanami was one of your biggest supports. He was always willing to take them off your hands for even an hour. He hated to admit it but he loved them like they were his own. He truly thought of himself as an uncle.

You found it adorable how serious he was until he was sure you left. Allowing himself to give into their tea parties and makeovers. He was one of the people you trusted most.

You knew that your daughters were in good hands for the day, especially since Nobara and Yuji would be there. Their inner children coming out whenever they were around your daughters.

—

Gojo had taken you to a hot spring resort nearly two hours away. One of the best that he could find.

You were in awe the second you stepped into the place. Never getting used to the amount of money Gojo was willing to spend on you.

The room was huge, and to say it was gorgeous was an understatement. But it paled in comparison to the view. The large steaming pools which were adorned with large marble sloped rocks and tall trees. The whole resort enclosed within mountains which seemed to touch the clouds. The sun setting behind beds of luscious green as the sky glimmered pink and orange.

It was perfect.

Snd the first thing you did after settling in was head into the heated waters. Breathing out contented sigh as you sunk neck down. Allowing the warmth to calm every last one of your nerves. The tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulder slowing subsiding as you leaned your head back onto one of the large rocks.

“This is amazing.” You smiled, blinking your eyes open to look at your husband, who kept complaining that the area he was in was too hot. Not allowing himself to go any further than his legs until you pulled him into a hug.

Letting the water flow in place at your shoulders. Ignoring the over dramatic faces that your husband was making at the “heat”, simply resting your head in his neck as you relaxed in each other’s arms.

—

The tv blared ever so slightly as you cuddled into Gojo’s side. The coolness of the room unable to beat the warmth that still stuck to your skin. You had just got off a call with the girls. They were at their grandparents’ house. No doubt having way too much dessert before bed. Though they’d most likely get to stay up late watching cartoons.

“You know..” Gojo started, his fingers trailing soft shapes on your skin, “We should have another one.”

You lifted your head off of his chest, “I don’t think they’ll sell us drinks right now love.”

“I’m not talking about drinks.” Your stomach fluttered when Gojo turned you over, his knee in between your thigh as his lips ghosted over your ear. “I’m talking about putting another baby in you.” Allowing it to brush over your clothed clit.

Your lips parted in a whimper when he kissed down your neck. Swiftly pulling off your shirt to kiss at your chest, taking each of your nipples into his mouth while he fondled the other. Your hips bucking up into him when he began grinding his hips slowly into you.

You shivered when his lips touched your belly. Peppering it with small kisses as he hummed against your skin. “Let me make your belly swell.”

You moaned softly, nodding your head eagerly. “P-please.”

“Hmm, gonna give me a third one sweet girl? Gonna make us a pretty family of five?” He husked, kisses getting more aggressive as he trailed back up. His cock twitching at the little whimpers that you failed to contain when you made a noise of agreement.

“Mhm, ‘m gonna give you another one. Wanna give you another one.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, looking for that final bit of confirmation before his lips smashed onto yours. The kiss hard and needy as he worked on removing the rest of your clothes. His fingers dipping down between your folds with a groan. “You’re so soaked f’ me pretty.”

He ran his hand up your slit teasingly, rubbing tiny circles onto your clit making you whine out. “Toruu, no teasing.”

He chuckled, his thick cock prodding at your entrance as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands instinctively draping around his shoulders so that he was pressed into you. A loud moan sounding through the room as he sank into you.

You let a small mewl escape your lips with every movement of his hips. His thrusts gradually increasing in pace till he was hammering into you. Pulling his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into you.

Bright blue eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier as your back arched off the bed. Nails digging into the skin of his back as you were rocked back and forth. Your husband’s thick cock stretching you out so deliciously as it repeatedly kissed your sweet spot. The position allowing him so deep inside you that he bulged lightly in your stomach.

“Toru, nngh— so good. Ahh.” You were getting noisy. Your cute babbles mixing with the loud echoes of his skin hitting yours. The mere force of his loving making it twice as loud.

You could only moan shakily as you pulled him even closer. Drool covered lips parting in sweet cries when your nails scratched down his back. “O-oh fuck. Ahhh.”

“Taking me so well. My pretty little wifey, can’t wait to see you carrying my child again. Fuck,” He grunted, squelching noises growing louder as your sticky pussy leaked onto your thighs and his. The whole roomed filled with your lewd sounds of pleasure as you both fell into each other. “Gonna fill you up real good baby. Stuff that messy pussy so full of my cum and watch that belly swell.”

Your legs trembled at his words, your hold on him tightening as the rhythmic slapping clouded your brain. Your vision blurring with tears as your stomach tightened. Every nerve along your walls being set on fire as you were fucked like you’d disappear in any moment.

Gojo’s sinking to elbows at the sides of your head for you to cry into his broad chest when you felt yourself nearing your high. “Toruu— so good Toruu, so g-good.”

“Hmm you’re close f’me,” he groaned, your pussy holding him snug as your body shook. “Shit, gonna make you a mama of three. Gonna give it to ya so deep— f-fuckk. Look at me when you cum.” He whispered lowly, your glassy eyes peeling open to blink up at him dumbly.

“Nngh— ‘m, a-ahhh, Toru ‘m so c-close.” You couldn’t think. Your brain unable to process anything but him and the way his cock was fucking into you so good. Your thoughts blanking out as you were engulfed by an indescribable pleasure. Mouth opened in a final cry as you fell off the edge.

“That’s it. Cum f’ me baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock. There you go— just like that.” His thrusts never slowed as a high pitched scream bubbled in your throat. Your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him as you let go. Sopping pussy gushing all over him just the way he liked it. His thrusts never losing their pace as you squirted with a continuous string of moans.

Your husband’s thrusts got sloppy. Head falling into the crook of your neck as he unknowingly slowed down. His thrusts hard and deep as he moaned into your delicate skin. Finding it adorable how your little mewls began to match his pace.

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Could pump her full of my cum every fucking day. Shit— here it comes baby.” His slow thrusts synced with his words, lips capturing yours hungrily as he buried himself deep inside you. Tip sat at your cervix’s entrance when his cock twitched. Spurts after spurts of the the thick substance flooding your insides with heat.

Gojo pulled away from you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to each other’s. You stayed clung to him like a koala to a tree. Tiredly smiling up at him when he pecked your nose. “If we keep having children every two years we’ll end up with fifty grandkids.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “So, what are we gonna name her?”

“Her?”

“We only have girls so far baby, i don’t think it’s in my blood to have a boy.” He joked, both of you laughing as you thought of any possible truth of his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a boy,” You sighed softly, using your finger to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell over his eyes. “I think he’d look just like you.”

Gojo’s hand rested on your belly, using his thumb to rub over it softly. “I’d love either, only cause i’d know that i made them with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you so much.”

“ And I love you more than you could ever imagine sweet girl.”

[sadburntbread]

BATFAM X NEGLECTED! MALE READER

----- Warnings before you read ----- Child Neglect, Bullying, Death, Violence, Slight swearing, Angst

"My child, my pride and joy" your mother's voice was soft and quiet, she touched the side of your cheek still chubby with baby fat "should there ever be a day when I am not here with you, then you must learn to care for yourself. You must never give your heart to those unworthy". Her words carrying the weight of years of personal experience. She was the wife of the Bruce Wayne, although it was because of an unwanted arranged marriage. her long hair framed her face as she sat in the bay window, overlooking the rain falling down on Gotham, the moonlight casting a soft glow on her face.

"Mama?" your confused face caused her eyes to soften, she picked you up and sat you in her lap. She casted a sad look at you and hugged you tightly.

"M/n, listen to me" Her voice turned stern, you nodded and focused your childish doe eyes on her "you are only eight my boy, you do not yet understand how cruel this world is.", She let out a sigh "I pity you; your father is a busy man, who never spares us the time of day. Your mother is weak in both will and heath. You only have Alfred to truly rely on". Tears were streaming from her eyes as she looked out the window, no longer being able to look you in the eyes. "I wish for you to break out of these chains that bind me. Live a life where you can smile freely. promise me that, m/n".

Over the next few years Bruce brought in many children. Dick was nice, he was cheerful but never had time for you, much like father. Jason was the best brother, you two always spent time together, however, one day he died. Tim... was ok... you were still grieving from Jason's death, and Tim never cared to look your way. Cas and Steph were just... there, Bruce was always training them, and they didn't think you were worth their time. After all, you were simply the spoiled young master Wayne. Lastly, Bruce, he never spent time with you other than at galas. When you went to the galas with your parents and adopted siblings, Bruce would treat you as his precious son. However, your mother could never look at the scene for long, knowing the true neglect that you didn't even know you were experiencing. Aside from that, life was fine. You still had your mother who loved you more than anything, and you had Alfred. Alfred thought of your mother as his own daughter and treated you as his grandson. You did good in school, always wanting to see your mother's smile when she saw your grades.

However, your whole life turned upside down the year you turned 12. Your mother died; her health had been deteriorating ever since you were born.

"Baby..." her voice was shaking, you held the had she reached out, watching as her dazed eyes couldn't find you. The only other person in the room was Alfred, " 'm sorry" Her voice broke into a sob "I'm so sorry for bringing you into this terrible place, please... Please forgive me". Her hand trembled in your grasp; tears streamed down your face.

"I could never blame you mom" you promised, at your words she smiled. With the last of her strength, she spoke again.

"Remember.... don't give... your heart to... these people". Her voice faded and her hand went limp in your hold.

"MOM!", you yelled "MOTHER PLEASE!" Alfred pulled you away from your mother, you cried in his shoulder. Your sobs echoed through the halls of the manor.

Your light was gone.

Her funeral was miserable. Bruce and your adopted siblings came, but only for appearances. As soon as the basic courtesies were over, they all left. You stayed there for the whole day and deep into the night, until Alfred made you get some rest.

After your mother's death, Bruce had you train like all your adopted siblings, it was grueling. He never taught you one-on-one, he had you watch him train the other then practice on your own. He always got so disappointed when you couldn't match pace with the others. However, you wanted to please them. Make them proud. "Foolish child" you could hear your mother say

It was around this time when Jason returned, you were so excited. finally, someone who you could spend time with, you were so lonely. But he was never the same boy you once knew, he was now cold and distant. He looked at you in annoyance... Just like the rest of them.

Days in the Wayne manor passed slowly, you followed your regular routine day by day. Wake up, got to school, go home, do schoolwork, do night watches, sleep and repeat. Things changed when father brought in your half-brother, Damian. Sure, at first you were upset that your father cheated on your mother, but now you had someone you could spend time with and relate to. You thought he would go through the same neglect, instead, he was loved, welcomed. Nothing like you.

"He's had a hard life", they'd say "you wouldn't understand, you've had everything handed to you and all the love you could want". It repeated in your head, all you did was ask why he got more love than you.

It wasn't fair... IT WASNT FAIR!

No... Calm down, take a deep breath. Hold it. Release it. Repeat.

Your mother taught you that when you'd start throwing fits, she was right. There was no use in getting upset over something you couldn't change... You'd just have to prove them wrong, be the best vigilante there ever was.

Damian was the worst. He thought of you as competition, you just wanted to be his friend.

"You know", Damian began, you had asked him to hang out, he was your younger brother after all, and you have to be a good brother like Jason used to be "It's your fault your pathetic mother died".

"...What" It wasn't a question. It was a dare, "Say that again. Do you have a death wish?" Now you were standing right in front of him, your frame towering over him. The empty living room became even more silent.

"I said", He didn't back down, instead, he stood tall "You caused your mother's death. I mean, think about it. If you hadn't been born than your mother wouldn't have fallen ill". you pushed him against the wall, pinning his shoulder with enough strength to break it, if he were a normal person. "Never mind, it wasn't your fault" Oh? was he back down? No... his smirk spread "it was your mother's fault for being so weak"

WHACK

you punched at his face; he moved but you still hit the side of his cheek, then he started punching back. it became a back and forth of fists. The two of you scuffling on the floor before a voice rang out.

"What the hell is going on here!?", you both looked over. It was dick, he was followed by the rest of your adopted siblings. Both of you let go of the other, your breathing ragged. You noticed Damian's breathing was steady, as if he hadn't just been fighting. Monster

'"He-" You tried to explain yourself, but Dick cut you off. He stormed up to you, his expression was furious, and he smacked you...hard. You stood shocked, your head turned to the side and your eyes wide in disbelief, you put your hand to your burning cheek.

"You are older than him! I don't care what excuse you have, you should know better!" Dick yelled, he grabbed you by your wrist and began pulling you. "We're going to see Bruce, you can explain yourself to him". Dick dragged you to Bruces's office, his grip was painfully tight. When you two stood Infront of the doors to his office you felt dread fill you. It wasn't your fault. It was Damian's. you repeated in your head. Dick pushed the doors open quickly, Bruce looked up at his arrival, waiting for an explanation. He always just ignored you; he'd say that he was too busy and to come back later. "He was fighting with Damian. The kid just started punching him." Dick explained. You froze as your father's disapproving eyes turned to you.

NO! that's not how it happened! You had to defend yourself, say something...ANYTHING. "He-he said mother was weak! That I was the reason she died!" You stuttered as you tried to explain. He'd understand, surly. However, your hopes were crushed when Bruce's expression didn't change, when it didn't soften in understanding.

"Dick, Leave us. I'll talk with him". Bruce instructed. Dick sent you a quick disappointed glare then left, the door closed with a slight slam. The office was quite before Bruce let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I understand that you were upset. However, that is no reason to hit your younger brother". His gaze turned to you, then back to the papers on his desk. "Aside from that, I've been meaning to talk to you".

Oh? He wants to talk to you? That has never happened before. You felt yourself getting excited, forgetting all about the scuffle with Damian.

"I have decided to make Damian the heir to the Wayne Enterprises". Bruce didn't even look at you. He never does.

"...What?" You couldn't stop the question from slipping out. No, you had to defend your position, Mother's position. Consequences be damned. "No, you can't! He is an affair child; I am supposed to take over the company!"

That was a mistake. Bruce glared at you, his piercing eyes shutting you up quickly. "Do not fight with me child. The decisions already been made. Now go get ready for your night watch". That was it. The conversation was over. When you walked to your room you passed by the living room full of your adopted siblings, all joking with each other. You watched them for a moment before made eye contact with Damian, then, he smirked.

After it became public that you were no longer going to take over Wayne Enterprises, people outside the manor stopped being kind to you. After all, you were no longer the heir to the company, why should they care about you?

That leads us a couple years in the future, to tonight, the night was hauntingly beautiful. On this night Batman and his crew of sidekicks were all out because the Joker had gotten a new toy. Some beasts with something akin to tendrils. You all had to split up, Cass and Steph, Dick and Jason, Tim and Damian. you were sent off on your own, like always. But it was fine, you were used to it. You had gotten stronger, both emotionally and physically.

but tonight was different, you couldn't handle it. you and Batman were in the same general area; however, you were both distracted with your own fights. Then a quiet voice could be heard, one that was not the joker's, you looked over and saw an elderly lady in the middle of the shopping district you were fighting in. A tendril flew at you before you could run to her, you blocked it and turned to the lady.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?", you yelled at her, she looked at you, a helpless look in her eyes. She was confused. "EVACUATE!" At your yelling, Batman looked over to you two, his eyes widened as he noticed the lady. Batman quickly finished off the beast he was fighting then turned to the lady, a tendril rushed towards her. Batman rushed to grab her first, it was close, but he successfully caught her and dropped her nearby safely.

However, the tendril turned and rushed towards you. Too fast for you to react, all you could do was yell. "DAD!" The first time you had said that in such a long time.

It was too late. The tendril pierced through your stomach.

It went quiet. You couldn't hear or see anything. Couldn't hear Batman's yell of your name, couldn't see him rushing to you. All you could see was the black tendril in your stomach. your vision got hazy, and you dropped.

You were caught, but you couldn't see who. It was terrifying, the cold you felt. Did mother feel the same way?

There was a voice... Who's? Their tone was begging. Was there anyone who cared enough to beg you to stay?

You were so, so tired... Then you saw her....

Mother

"DAD!!" Your voice cut through the air; Batman looked to you. His eyes widened at the sight of you being pierced through.

"M/N!!" Batman didn't even know he could sound so desperate. His son was going to die, just like Jason. He rushed to your side, pulling off his cape to wrap the wound. when the cape was tight enough, he grabbed you, carrying you to a distant building, one untouched by the enemy. He had to fight his way through the area, it was difficult with you in his arms, but he made sure you didn't get hurt any more than you already had. "Don't you die on me, m/n! I promise to treat you better. Don't leave me, not like your mother". He mumbled pleas as he carried you, and even more after he set you down. After he was sure you were still breathing (Although shallow and rough) Batman spoke into the communication device all of his children shared. "M/n is injured. Clear your area and hurry to [-----]. I have him resting safely in an abandoned building, we need to take him back to the manor, I'm not sure how much longer he'll last". It was less than a minute before multiple worried voices came though the mic, promising to be there soon. Batman pushed the hair from your sweaty face, "I won't let you die". With that he rushed back to the thick of the battle.

It was less than 20 minutes later when the rest of the Batfamily arrived, with them all working together they were able to take down the beasts and the joker relatively quickly. As soon as the battle was over Nightwing turned to Batman.

"Where is he!? Where is M/n?!" Nightwing's voice was rushed and out of breath from the fight, the others behind him listened closely for Batman's answer, they were all in a similar state as Nightwing. Batman pointed to an abandoned building, still untouched by conflict. No words needed to be spoken; they all took off in that direction. However, they paused as a laugh cut through the air, they all looked over to the source, it was the Joker. In a weak voice, Joker spoke.

"Boom" At his word many nearby buildings exploded, including the one batman set you in.

"NO!" Red Hood yelled, he felt terrible, he took his anger for Batman out on you, his baby brother. The same brother he swore to protect. They all took off, rushing to the building, holding onto hope that you somehow survived. The building you were set in was completely destroyed, but they all keep searching, they needed proof you were truly gone.

Damian paused his search, before quickly moving stones. His sudden hurry caused the others to all join him. they found something...

bits and pieces of batman's cape, then.... an arm... your arm...

You were gone, and they never had the chance to apologize, to spend movie nights with you, to take you out to eat, to celebrate your birthday.

It only took your death for them realize they failed you.

TO BE CONTINUED

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

-

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

"In a world where you can be anything......

..............be kind"

Pt1 Pt2 This is part three. Girlscout reader! III

If someone asked you what the cutest thing in the world was you'd probably say otters ,or pandas depending on the day.

But as Bruce looks at you from across the table he could almost swear on all his money that nothing in all the world was cuter then you.

You ate happily and babbled about your favorite Powerpuff girl not noticing the tense atmosphere he and your mother noticed because of their disagreement moments ago.

It was funny how one moment you had been dropped off to sell your girlscout cookies like usual. And the next you have a billionaire super hero absolutely wrapped around your finger.

But you pay no mind to that fact as you continue with your ranting and your mother doesn't seem to stop as she peaceful eats her food.

This must be normal for the both of you Bruce's thinks to himself.

Both talking -well more like you talking but her listening to your every word. Even as you talked about things that didn't make a link of sense she'd happily agree with you as she ate her food.

You and your mother must've had dinner together every day. That was pretty clear on how natural this seemed for two of you. Bruce never had all his kids at dinner. And on the rare occasions that he did it'd always end in a fight or disagreement.

But you and your mother had none of that. No, this dinner was very diffrent then the dinner that took place at the manor. This dinner was...calm.

Even if the food would in Bruce's eyes be considered a 'struggle meal' and nothing like the lavish food Alfred prepares ,you both ate it happily. Just grateful that you both had food. Watching the small interaction of how you and your mother were content with your small life simple life Bruce had begun feeling overwhelmed with.....jealousy?

Some might laugh at the thought a billionaire being jealous of a nurse that make minum wage and her daughter? What foolishness they might think.

But it was clear as day to Bruce how jealous he truly was and if you or your mother had known him well enough you'd see it too.

His jaw was clenched tight something that not even his kids worst attitude could bring was the lump in the back at his throat from trying not to scoff.

What would he scoff at? He doesn't even know but he was angry. Not at you or your mother but at himself.

Because he's one of the richest men in the world and yet he can't have what you and your mother so simply have.

A simple dinner with his family.

"Who's your favorite my little pony character?!"

Your excited voice and question snaps Bruce out of his trance.

"I...I've never watched that movie." Bruce says which earns an amused laugh from your mother and a fits of giggles from you.

"My little pony isn't a movie ,silly!" You pause and think to yourself before you continue.

"Well it does have some movies ,I guess..." You mutter the last part looking deep in thought almost like you couldn't decide if my little pony was a show or movie.

But Bruce just felt like an idiot. Especially because he could see your mother trying to muffle her laughs. I mean I how was he supposed to know it was a show? He has all sons! And they literally never watch TV with him anyway....

The dinner went on almost in peaceful silence other then you babbling about just about anything.

And though the dinner isn't as extravagant as his usual dinners he finds himself becoming addicted to love ombroded into it.

It was a simple life you and your mother lived and probably a hard one too. But Bruce couldn't deny the fact of how the family atmosphere in your house. Or the way you respected and loved your mother.

No matter how bruce looked at it your house unlike the manor at times was a home.

Not a nice or big one but a home.

The dinner has soon came to an end and despite Bruce's disappointment it was time for him to leave.

You hugged him right before he left looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

"I'll see you Saturday...." You say quietly and he smiles softly at your words. It was like one of his kid actually wanted to see him. It was like you were already one of his kids.

Your mother holds the door open for him and as he's walking out he can't help but think.... how can he just willingly leave you without a fight?

But the cruel reality of you not being his child hits him. But still.....so he thinks fast. And before your mother can close the door he puts his foot infront stopping it from closing.

"Actually....my..my sons birthday is tomorrow....I'd love if you guys could come." Bruce says and now he's the one looking at your mother with pleading eyes.

Hoping she wouldn't deny the offer. She sighs and you know that sigh. She's about to say no. So just like bruce you think fast!

"Can we please go mommy? Tomorrow's Sunday you don't have work and I don't have school... pleaseeeeeeeee?" You whine and beg.

And she curses your smart brain for memorizing her schedule before she sighs but this time it's a defeated sigh and you smile knowing you won.

"I'll think about it....it'll be at your house right?"

Your mother says already dreading the thought. And Bruce nods with his charming smile. "Yep 2pm....don't be late." He says smiling as he turns around acting like he already one. (Which he kinda did.)

Your mother scoffs watching him walk off like he made a statement.

"Idiot." Your mother mutters under hear breath but she smiles as she hears your excited squel.

"We gotta go mama! We gotta!"

And gosh she can practically already see your happy smile before she even turns around.

But she isn't complaining especially when your this happy.

Much to your mother's dismay you and your mother are both standing outside with a gift bag in hand outside the manor the next day.

It's a pretty gloomy day so it's obvious the parties inside. Your mother is pretty confused as to why there's really no one here because the son of a billionaire has a birthday party and there's not hundreds of people? That's crazy...and very unusual.

But she ignores that as the door opens and you both see the big kiddish birthday banner that's hung up near the chandelier.

"I'm so glad you two could make it....please come in." The sweet old butler you had told your mother so much about says.

And you were right he does seem pretty sweet your mother thinks. Walking in ,there seems to be about two or three other family's inside but other then that it's just you guys and the Wayne's.

You look around excited and let go of your mother's hand before she can react.

"Kitty!" You yell squealing as you chase the cat to the kitchen.

Your mother tries to grab you but stops when she sees its useless. Bruce seeing the whole interaction walks up to your mother before she can go looking for you.

"She'll be fine..." Bruce says before clearing his throat. "I'm...um glad you two could make it." He says his usual confidence faltering.

Your mother bods giving a awkward smile.

You on the other hand are having an absolutely wonderful time as you pick up the surprisingly calm cat.

"Good kitty..." You say softly to the cat as you gently rub its back not noticing the confused and slightly irritated preteen walking up to you.

"He's not a kitten anymore. He's a cat." Damian says sternly looking at you up and down trying to figure out who you were.

"All cats are basically kitties...." You say and damian looks at you like your ridiculous because to him you are.

Dick the ever golden child tries to defuse the fight before it happens.

"Hey there sweetheart....who's your parents?" He asks putting a hand on Damians shoulder to calm him.

"Yes who is your parents? I specifically told father ,I didn't want anyone other then family at my party." Damian says before you can answer.

You giggle as the cat begins to purr from you rubbing it.

Looking at you and your behavior Dick can't help but guess.

"Is your dad Clark? Like Clark kent? You don't look like him...did he adopt you?"

You giggle again at their confused faces and shake your head.

"No? Well thats unfortunate.....Clark usually has the happy kids....anyway who is your parents then?" Dick says now very curious.

Now you have Damian and Dick both curious but before you can respond Bruce steps up out of nowhere.

"This is the kid I was telling you guys about....remember?" Bruce says putting a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him smiling. Which really throws them off.

"Bruce...can I talk to you for a moment?" Dick says sounding worried. And Bruce nods confused did you not make a good first impression?

Walking to the side Dick speaks up.

"So that's the kid your planning on adopting?"

"Yes....is there a problem?" Bruce says utterly confused.

"Well no....but usually the kids you adopt...are different....." Dick says motioning his hand around to make a point.

"Well yes she will be the first girl but...."

"No she's the first kid not traumatized ,father." Damian says interrupting Bruce.

"Oh......."

Bruce takes a good glance back at you as you carefully continue petting the cat with a smile....yeah you were definitely different then his other kids....

"Well I think it's a good thing!" Tim says with a smile popping out of nowhere.

"The hell did you come from?" Dick says taken back.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Tim says rolling his eyes.

"I just told her about quantum physics and she actually listened! She didn't call me lame or anything! She actually told me I was smart like twilight...and I have no idea who that is....but they sound smart!" Tim says happily as if he just won the lottery.

"See atleast one of you already likes her." Bruce says trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't not like her....I just didn't know you chose her is all...." Dick says shrugging.

"Impossible" Damian says and all eyes turn to him.

"What's impossible?" Dick questions.

"That." Damian says pointing to you.

And low and behold what you are currently doing is nearly impossible. You still holding the calm cat in your arms have begun talking to the one an only red hood. Or like he told you Jason Todd.

And not only are you talking you have him....smiling? Damian is right.....it's impossible.

"When the hell did he get here?" Tim asks confused.

To which dick shrugs and replies.

"I stopped asking those stupid questions a long time ago."

Bruce just stares in disbelief...and happiness.

"That's no fair...he's stealing my future favorite sibling away from me!" Tim say throwing his arms up dramatically.

Damian scoffs rolling his eyes.

"Oh please drake don't humor us. Everyone knows that she'll favor me."

"And how exactly are you sure of that little wing? I mean the youngest usually favor the oldest...." Dick says with a mocking smile.

"Well she is holding my cat." Damian retorts.

"That doesn't count." Tim says putting his hand on his hips.

"Well it looks like she already has a favorite...." Bruce says looking as he looks at you and jason from afar... It was a quiet a sight a big druglord smiling and having a calm conversation with a little girl in a puffy pinky dress.

But Bruce loved the fact that you and jason were getting along and he could see why. You had that special spark about you. That made you light up a room...just like jason had when he was robin......

Jason finally seeing that the others are watching him he kindly ends your conversation and walks over to them.

"Who's the kid?" Jason says gesturing back to you as you continue petting Alfred the cat.

"That's the kid Bruce plans to adopt." Dick say with a smug like smile.

Jason's eyes narrow but not enough to be considered a glare. "Hell no, Bruce." Jason says his voice firm and Bruce shoots him a puzzled look.

"Not that one....you don't get to ruin that one." Jason says and Bruce can't hide the fact that Jason's words sting.

"Don't be ridiculous Todd...it's already being done." Damian pipes up clearly eager to have you in the family.

"Actually no it's not....this one actually has a family....a mom. A good one too." Tim says in a 'know it all way'.

"Well that can be easily fixed....." Damian whispers shrugging as if it's simple problem.

"You see what I mean! Even the biological one is fucked up!" Jason says pointing at Damian.

"Now let's all calm down... I'm sure Bruce has a good reason why he feels the need to adopt her." Dick says trying and failing to calm everyone down.

"Is her mom abusive?"

"A drug addict?"

"Neglective?"

"Irresponsible?"

"Well no.....she's a good mother..." Bruce says awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Have you ever heard the term if it's not broke don't fuckin try and fix it!?" Jason says sighing and rubbing his face.

"Alfred wants her too." Bruce defends quickly.

All eyes turn to him in shock. Because Alfred had never told bruce to adopt one of them. Sure Alfred loved all of them the second they stepped foot in the manor but he had never told Bruce to get them.

"Your lying....." Dick mutters in disbelief.

"Sadly he is telling the truth." Alfred says walking up to them.

"Well I change my mind. I'm in." Jason's says which makes everyone more confused.

"Why are you in now?" Tim asks.

"Well if Alfred wants her....she must be pretty special." Jason says shrugging.

"She indeed is." Alfred clarifies with a smile.

"In what ways is she exactly 'special'." Damian questions confused.

"I believe she could....fix us." Alfred says nonchalantly.

".......huh?"

"Alfred's right.....we could use some help...." Bruce says nodding.

"Well I won't speak for all of you ,but I do speak for myself when I say I personally don't see anything wrong with me." Damian says raising his eyebrows silently daring anyone to tell him he's wrong.

"You literally just offered to kill the girls mom so we could adopt her." Dick says shaking his head like a disappointed mother.

"I was trying to be a good big brother ,and offer assistance. You should try it some time ,grayson." Damian says scoffing.

"See what I mean where fucked up!" Jason says groaning and shaking his head.

"Well I wouldn't say she'd be helping us improve. I prefer to call it needing light in a time of darkness." Alfred says calmly putting his hands together but he isn't looking at any of them.

They all trace his gaze and look the way he's looking which leads back to you.

Looking back at you they see your mother already scolding you for running off but there's no true bite behind her words and they can tell.

I mean who could yell at you when your pouting so cutely?

"What about the mom?" Jason asks not taking his eyes off of you.

"Like I said that can be arranged."

"No Damian!" They all say in sync.

"Well then pennyworth....since this is your idea. What do you suggest?" Damian asks quietly so you and your mother don't hear.

Now all eyes are on Alfred but Alfred doesn't take his eyes off of your mother.

And like always the butlers words are calm ,and surprise everyone.

"Marriage."

Thanks for reading!!

Likes reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Notes: this is not proofread please do not judge!

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