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writting-stuff-sometimes · 2 days ago

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Knight in papaya armor - Lando x F. reader

Summary: Lando gets a late-night drunk text from y/n who seems to be intoxicated and in a weird place. Even when they've broken up he will search the earth to save her.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, and roofies.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: I have something with exes, sorry not sorry.

···

When Lando got your text at 2 am he knew you were either in trouble or wasted. You had only texted him a couple of times after the breakup. The first one was a drunk voicemail telling him how much he had hurt you, and the other was when you had been locked out of your apartment in the middle of the night, no locksmith was available and he still had a key. But this had been months ago.

He was playing with Max off-stream. It was Christmas break, and he needed a detox from social media. When your message reached him, and as soon as Mary gave him the location, he was on his way there.

As he drove through one of the shipyard warehouses, his blood rushed just thinking about you alone there. As much as Monaco was a safe country, there were some places you wouldn't like to find yourself alone as a young female.

He parked his car next to some high-end cars and walked with his hood up towards the pined place.

He got to a semy-hidden entrance where a suited man stood blocking the door, looking at his phone.

"Invite code?" The man spoke without even looking at him.

"I don't think I need one" He rarely face-carded his way into places but knew there was no other way he could make it inside.

The guard looked up from his phone and took a close look at him, he was about to dismiss him when a drunk guy inside yelled his name.

"Lando? Lando Norris?" The drunken guy approached the entrance.

"Yeah" he simply answered.

"Mate, come on in" The drunken guy tapped the guard on his shoulder, and he moved to the side allowing the driver in.

"What can I get you?" The blond guy offered Lando a glass of champagne as soon as he was inside, the driver took it but had no intention of drinking it, he just needed to find you and get you the hell out of there.

"Thanks, I'm looking for a friend"

"I haven't seen any of the other drivers here" From the way he was dragging his words, Lando hoped his drunken state would make it easy to ditch him as soon as he had found you, allowing you two to escape the dark place.

As his new "fridend" kept talking, he looked around, a bunch of nepo babies, sketchy guys, and mostly underage girls in revealing outfits swamped the place. He could feel his heart rate rise just looking at the way most of the guys were behaving towards the drunken girls, and as he imagined you being treated the same, made his blood boiled.

"Sorry mate, the restroom?" He asked the blond guy.

"That way"

"Thanks" he patted him in a friendly way and walked towards the spot the guy had signaled.

When he was out of sight, he walked the place looking for you, trying to hide his identity. He was losing his patience by the second as he looked at the amount of alcohol and drugs being passed around.

He started looking for a red dress, and he could finally breathe when he found you. The moment he caught a guy's arm wrapped around your waist and saw him talking to your ear, he saw red. Without a second thought, he made a beeline towards you not caring anymore about pushing people to the side and being recognized, he just needed to get you out of that place, fast.

"Y/n" he yelled as he was arm's distance from you. The confused look on your face as soon as you saw him pained him a little. Usually, your eyes lit up when you saw him, but not this time.

"Lan?"

The guy next to you turned to look at Lando, annoyed.

"I need to talk to you" Lando took you by the arm and tried to pull you towards the exit but the dark-haired guy grabbed your hand before you two could walk away.

"Excuse me, she's busy"

"This will be quick" Lando tried to sound as friendly as possible.

"Don't think so, mate" The dark-haired guy pulled your hand harshly.

"Don't do that" Lando spoke menacingly.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Without a second thought, Lando punched the guy hard in the face making him lose his balance, his drunken state making it easy for him to fall and difficult to stand back up. He knew now, more than ever he needed to get the hell out of there. He grabbed your hand and pulled you fast toward the exit. Thankfully the people around you were too out of it to catch what had just happened.

You stumbled trying to keep up with him, but the heels and the amount of alcohol in your system complicated the task. You reached the entrance, the big guy in the suit was about to stop you but Lando swiftly shouldered him out of the way. He knew he had to run fast to his car so he pulled you over his shoulder and rushed to his car as you fought hitting his back and yelling for him to put you down.

He opened the passenger door, throwing you in as carefully as he could, and rushed to the driver's side, spinning his wheels leaving the bodyguards behind.

He reduced the speed once he was in the safety of the Monegasque streets.

"What the fuck?" You yelled annoyed, but he just kept driving silently, his knuckles white from how hard he was grabbing the steering wheel, breathing deeply, trying to ease his rushing heart.

"Lando, what the hell?"

Still no answer from the driver.

He got to your place and parked in the familiar spot.

You stood in the car in silence for a couple of minutes, the look on his face calmer now, but you knew him very well, it was one of those tense moments when you would just sit there silently waiting for someone to finally break the silence.

"Let's go" He opened the door and walked to the passenger side to open yours.

You stepped out the car, the look on his face softer now.

He touched your lower back and led you towards the elevator. You expected him to walk you there and return to his car, but he stepped in and pressed your floor.

You rode the elevator in complete silence, the alcohol in your system had gone down a bit, allowing you to stand up without any aid.

He walked you to your door, and you searched your bag for your key.

"Shit" you softly cursed under your breath.

A breathy laugh left his body as he searched his pants, took out a couple keys, and opened your door.

Yes, you had forgotten to get the keys back that last time he had helped you, or more like he had managed to avoid giving them back, just in case.

You stumbled in kicking your shoes off, and he did the same, remembering the no-shoes rule in your apartment.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He finally spoke.

You sat on the couch, confused, what the hell was he doing there? how the fuck he had found you?

"What are you doing here?" you tried to sound annoyed, you weren't sure why you were mad at him but knew you should be.

"You messaged me"

"What?" You took your phone and looked at the drunken texts. "Ugh"

"I'll take that as a a thank you"

"What should I thank you for? I was having fun at a party and you punched your way there"

"Actually, getting inside was the easy part" he joked, standing before you. He stared at you, assessing your estate, worried you had been drugged or something. From the way everyone was behaving at the party, he wouldn't find it weird the asshole talking to you had tried to spiked your drink.

"You can stop staring" You said trying to get his eyes off you. You had broken up six months ago but he still made your heart rush.

"Just making sure you're ok"

"No need, I'm perf-" A gag cut your speech short. "Fuck" you stood up and rushed to the toilet.

He walked behind you. You slammed the bathroom door in his face, but he stood outside as he heard you puke your guts out.

"I'm fine," you yelled behind the door. He smiled softly at your stubbornness; it was a sign you were okay, well, as much as you could be. He walked to the kitchen, giving you some privacy as he turned on the coffee machine.

You exited the bathroom a bit more sober now, your face damp from the water you had splashed over it trying to ease the dizziness and the minty taste of the toothpaste trying to cover the shameful puke aftertaste.

"Here" he offered a cup of coffee.

"Thanks" You took it and walked back to the couch.

"How did you find me?" you asked before taking a sip from the warm liquid, wincing at the bitter taste of the mint and coffee mix.

"Mary"

"She gave you my location?" Mary had spent the last six months cursing Lando's name.

"As much as she hates me she was worried about you too"

"Oh shit" That meant this was just the first time you were going to be scolded about tonight and Mary's version was definitely going to be worse.

"That's right, you scared us both, young lady"

"Don't call me that, i'm older than you two"

"Just one year, and it sure doesn't seem like it from the way you behaved tonight"

You rolled your eyes at his response and took another sip from the mug. Now that you were more conscious he knew it was time to lecture you, not that he never did stupid things, but this had actually been dangerous.

"Seriously, y/n" he sat on the coffee table in front of you, his hands on your knees sending electric waves through your body. "You can't do that again, please"

"Do what?" you tried to fight him.

"This, going to those places alone! do you know what could've happened?"

"It was just a party, I'm not a teenager, and I don't know why would you care anymore"

"I will always care about you, always"

"What?"

"Y/n, I love you" He softly said as his fingers caressed your knees under the satin fabric.

Your mind rushed, trying to remember the last six months, searching for the reason you had broken up and to remain apart. But there wasn't a specific reason, it had been a weird mix of life pulling you apart, his season being chaotic with the championship pressure, and your last year of school and the internship taking every minute of your time, making it impossible to support him like he wanted, making you feel guilty and making him feel alone and like a burden. He was the one who had offered to take a break, not because he didn't love you, on the contrary, he saw how you were trying to rip yourself into tiny pieces to fit school, work, and your love life, but it was too much, your sleeping and eating habits a mess trying to keep up with everything.

It pained him seeing you so worn out, and he felt if he pulled himself out of the equation, you might have time to take care of yourself, but of course, you weren't ok with it, your stubborness always trying to keep up with everything.

The day you broke up, you were running on 2 hours of sleep and two Redbull cans, the lack of food and tiredness blew everything out of proportion.

"If you don't want to be with me anymore, just say it, there's no need to make up all these dumb excuses!"

"Baby, listen to me"

"No! Just admit it, Lando, you don't want to be with me anymore!"

"Y/n, please listen to me" He tried to explain himself but you just grabbed your suitcase and rushed out of the apartment.

He tried calling you for days, but you were too burned out to listen to him, crying yourself to sleep every night for the next couple of weeks until Mary cornered you in some kind of intervention and kicked some sense into you. Of course, you had only told her your side of the story making her hate his guts for breaking her best friend's heart.

You cringed at the memory, feeling guilty as it downed on you he was just looking after you.

You looked down at the mug between your hands.

"Baby" Lando's hands took your face when he noticed a tear falling down your cheek.

"I'm sorry" you sobbed.

"There's nothing to be sorry" He sat by your side, hugging you tightly against him. "Baby, shhh, it's ok"

"No its not, I ruined it"

"No you didn't"

"I did, you were just trying to take care of me"

"I still do, I'll always will"

"How can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, we were too tired and too busy to think things straight"

"You're too nice, I don't deserve you"

"No one really does"

You pushed yourself away to stare at him. A cheeky smile on his face.

"I'm kidding" He approached you and tried to kiss you but you turned away.

"Wait, I puked" you tried to push him away but he held you tighter against him.

"I don't give. shit" He turned your face and kissed your lips softly.

"I'm sorry" You said when he pulled back.

"Stop apologizing" he kissed you harshly now.

"But I really am. I wasn't thinking straight and I made Mary hate you"

"We both were too into our own stuff, and I'm pretty sure she didn't quite like me in the first place, so no damage done there"

"Are we..?"

"Do you want to give it another try?" His eyes glinted from excitement.

"Do you want to?"

"Of course, but you’re the one telling Mary we’re back.

“Chicken”

“She might actually kill me if I tell her”

________________________________________________

Thanks so much for all your love, feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys

#f1 fiction #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando x y/n #f1 x y/n #lando norris fluff #f1 smut #lando norris smut

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waterloverextreme · 15 hours ago

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I called these "taken by a Strange Mood"; Like in the videogame Dwarf Fortress. Sometimes you either find yourself doing or making something with extreme compulsion. Or fist-fighting the trees because it won't give you fur.

Normally I stay away from people cause I know I will try to pick fights with them.... So I go to the Kitchen; which I needed to ban myself from!!

Things I have done during a Strange Mood [Kitchen Edition]

Decided to make my sister a Hot Chocolate. Forgot what a hot chocolate was. Poured a mug up to the brim with hot water. Stared at it. Took the container of hot chocolate mix and DUMPED IT onto the mug. Was confused why it was all over the counter.

Stared at the metal coil stovetop as it was bright red after cooking. A few seconds later it was no longer burning red as I turned the stovetop off. Thought, "It's still hot, but HOW hot is it?". Proceeded to touch the heating element. Went "hmmm it's hot enough for me to be in a lot of pain", like a dumbass. As I've never touched a hot stove before what the frick was I trying to compare it to???

Made the most digusting meal of soggy wet white bread, and visibly moldy cream cheese. Because, "someone needs to eat this before we need to throw it out".

Stared at the ceiling until it looked like flesh moving

Took 12 cups and filled them with water. Placed them around my bedroom (different floor of the house) to feel what it was like to be Jack and Jill fetching water if they didn't fall down.

Wanted to re-experience being 5 and rolling down the stairs without getting a single bruise... I am too tall now and it was awkward and painful.

Spent hours imagining gravity shifted and I got stuck on the ceiling of the kitchen. Which still gets my heart pumping just thinking about it. Harrowing! DO NOT ATTEMPT

Laid down on the floor because that would hopefully stop myself from going outside. Got distracted by trying to retrieve the dusty cat toy under the fridge. The cats watched me.

Tell myself over and over to not put utensils in the microwave. Just cause I forgot a spoon in there once and didn't explode doesn't mean anything!

Spin. Like a lot. Especially right under the ceiling light which if I did the tiniest hop would impail my head.

These aren't the most interesting as I said. I have banned myself from the Kitchen. I only allow myself premade snacks like crackers or canned fruit. As like- I get real dangerous and dumb.

If I feel a strange mood coming whilst with people? My main way to deflect it is to unironically challenge people to "1v1 me on club penguin". That doesn't exist anymore so most people take it as a joke. Usually it defuses into me coming up with more wild and improbable dueling oppurtunities. At least until I can think of an excuse to seperate myself or direct the energy elsewhere.

Usually I try to put myself in the least dangerous location I can. Like I know the signs for myself, so I often put as much distance between myself, outside, and places with oopsie daisy objects as possible.

Shout out to the time I was locked out of the house so I decided to ought to live behind the shed. No one would find me there. I can hop the fence to come and go. Much like a wasp. As that's better for society. Unironically I was planning to restart my life and become a runaway. Since y'know wasps and bees are less likely to sting you if you are familiar to them. I am lucky the key to the shed was inside. I didn't get to interact with the gas canisters or live wasp nest.

Everyone is one Strange Mood from discovering the wonders of life or doing something they'd really regret.

As like- when I am in this mood I would unironically agree to taking a bus for hours to fist fight someone... Me, a person who handles pressure, competition, or conflict with the grace of a wrung out wet paperbag. In a Strange Mood that's all gone baby! I WOULD wrestle a crocodile to release it in a food court; Where it belongs!! Like God and Zoo Tycoon intended!!

I am so lucky I wasn't born in Florida

99% of "mysterious disappearances" esp of people in their 20s who start acting weird for 48 hours and then vanish are not mysterious, thats just when a lot of reality-obliterating mental illness tends to kick in and it's pretty easy to get a short circuit in your brain that makes you go family guy death pose in joshua tree national park. it's not any less tragic, it's just a documented phenomenon and not particularly predictable. its a big reason the medical advice is for people with a family history of schizophrenia to completely avoid weed and psychedelics. "people just go crazy sometimes" is a principle of human health that used to be a lot more accepted prior to the american midcentury and to a certain extent thats a healthier way to conceptualize and prepare for the risk, as opposed to the modern assertion that anyone acting weird is dangerous and broken forever.

#basketlore #good to know some drugs make things worse #irl friends keep offering me weed which I refuse #The lack of control would probs make me have so many issues #I cannot even do Caffeine without my body reacting horribly #especially mentally #yeah in case no one knew #i don't do recreational drugs or drinking #I'm just like this #Only medicine I take is for my chronic pain and fatigue #I'm just home grown weirdness #Dwarf Fortress #i guess #I think they'd appreciate Strange Mood hours #mental weirdness #I wish things with Caffeine would be labelled more obviously #Took me a long time to realise that's one of the triggers for me #I can have some caffeine fine #but the ability to manage my intake?#please I need that #People have unironically died because things having Caffeine wasn't labelled properly!#My chronic fatigue keeps me from doing anything too crazy in what I am learning is some form of Psychosis #But the other guys who don't have plans in place for when you or a loved one is going through it? Woof.#Arts n Craft supplies often works tbf #directing wanton energy into a task #hence why I refer to Dwarf Fortress #Their Strange Mood system prepared me for my own ♡#rambles

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xenteaart · 2 days ago

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the hard way

pairing: vampire!chris x to be vampire!reader genre/warnings: dark romance, mean chris, angst? kinda dead dove, mentions of death, blood and a lil gore (not too graphic tho imo), it's okay in the end??? and they're in love plot: reader is getting turned into a vampire and it's not as cool as she imagined author’s note: obvsly heavily inspired by railway and that SPITTING SCENE. idk it's prolly gonna flop but i wanted to picture that process and a not so hot side of it

“no.” “why not?!” “because i told you so a million times already. we’re not discussing this.” chris spits out and furrows, growing more agitated with each passing second.

“what, you don’t want me to be equal to you?” you ponder desperately while your mind searches for any, any reason at all as to why chris won’t turn you. it’s been getting to you for the last couple of months, and you’re sure you’ve gone through every possible explanation your troubled brain could come up with: he doesn’t love you. he doesn’t wanna spend eternity with you. or maybe it’s a power thing. or, or, or...? this endless cycle of worry and uncertainty has been keeping you on edge for way too long to think clearly now. “gosh, it has nothing to do with equality,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “what is it then?” “drop it.” you snap. “we’ll have to find out the hard way, then.”

you grab the nearest kitchen knife, and it turns out to be the one you use for cutting meat, a chef’s knife as they call it. how fitting. chris barely has enough time to catch up with your madness infused impulse, and when he turns his gaze back to you, the knife is already deep in your guts.

you thought it was gonna be romantic or somewhat dramatic at least. something from the movies where he sinks his vampire teeth into your neck, and just like magic — your eyes flash bright red, announcing the beginning of a new life.

“you dumb bitch,” he exhales shakily and somehow manages to catch you in time because the sharp pain in your stomach makes you lose your balance instantly. you’re still bitter and angry in the heat of the argument and you expect him to be the same way, but when you glance up, chris looks nothing but panicked. “that’s a new look on him,” you think, and it confuses you.

chris growls and sinks to his knees, carefully holding you and trying to move as fast as possible. what you don’t know is that turning can only be done in around thirty seconds since fatal injury. that might explain the rushing and chris’s pure bambi eyes panic but your consciousness is already starting to drift away to hold onto that train of thought.

chris bites into his wrist with unmasked fury, tearing and ripping his own veins even though using a knife would have been much cleaner. probably less painful, too. “swallow. now! come on, don’t you fall asleep on me now, focus!” he grabs your face and presses hard on the jaw joints, making you open your mouth like a puppet doll.

the sickly metallic taste of your own blood at the back of your throat from the internal bleeding mixes up with chris’s thick blood that he generously spits into your mouth, and you want to throw up. your head feels dizzy as your eyelids are getting heavier, your hearing suddenly fails completely as if someone turned the volume down from ten to zero. limbs are falling weak, and the pins and needles in them are so, so far from pleasant.

the thing about turning is... you actually have to die first. be fully, completely gone to be able to come back changed and corrupted, turned to the extent of your DNA having been violently rewritten. that you did not think through enough. the muscles in your throat contract almost on reflex, swallowing and gagging on the gooey salty substance, making your chest heave while coughing strangles you further. the tingles and nausea are so overwhelming and all consuming you actually catch yourself thinking dying would be a relief now. and then it follows as you wished.

you doze off for god knows how long but, by the looks of it, it can’t have been more than a few minutes because as you regain consciousness, chris is still looming over you, his own blood fresh on his lips. he’s blurry, though, everything is.

“come on, suck on me. c’mon, baby, there we go,” he coos as he brings his wrist to your lips, forcefully pressing it into your mouth and leaving you with little to no choice. the phrasing, unlike usual, doesn’t sound dirty or hot now, more like a life-saving command while you’re still so out it. it feels good, though, chris’s blood.

it doesn’t taste so metallic and gross anymore, and the texture feels almost soothing on your dry throat, like hot honey milk on a friday evening. suck, gulp, suck, gulp, suck, it almost lulls you back into serenity, some primal instinct of being attached to your only life line, finding comfort in someone’s warmth and touch and taste.

you wonder how much you’ve drunk already and whether chris will have anything left but you’re so, so thirsty you can’t even bring yourself to care.

what finally makes you stop is the sudden sharp ache in your gums. it feels so piercing the aftershocks are almost reaching your brain and eye sockets, and as you feel your old teeth fall out, a pair of longer fangs cuts through and settles into the upper teeth row. hot tears are stinging your eyes and you whine like a wounded deer, still unable to speak properly. it’s all too much, and you start to regret what you’ve done, and maybe, just maybe that’s why chris so passionately refused to put you through it. this kind of hunger and the animalistic, blood thirst driven rage were never something he wanted to inflict upon you.

your entire body is shaking but it’s not really a fearful tremor, more like restlessness, a new sort of “itch” somewhere deep, deep inside that you’ve never experienced before, the feeling so intense and soul wrenching you simply can’t disobey it. it makes you want to jump up and run.

“don’t worry, i’ll teach you how to handle it.” chris cups your face after taking off his leather gloves so you can feel the comfort of his actual skin. the touch is calming, but barely enough compared to that growing desire and need to satisfy the itch. “you stupid crazy cunt, why do you never listen,” he whispers into your forehead, his lips lightly brushing over your cold sweat covered skin, as he holds you closer, squeezing you against his chest in a protective manner, though the real danger to yourself is now planted within you.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #railway chan #railway bang chan #my writing #my fic #skz fanfic #bang chan x y/n #chan x y/n

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joemama-2 · 2 days ago

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the sound of you | ch. 2 just a stranger

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing : gojo x fem reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: what happens when a man who uses intimacy to numb his pain collides with a woman who sees vulnerability as her greatest weakness? a storm of desire, denial, and shattered hearts. you never imagined someone like him—magnetic, self-assured, and emotionally closed off—would enter your life. worse, you never expected to crave him in return. but fate has a cruel way of stitching together souls that should never meet, dragging you both into a spiral of unspoken truths, unresolved wounds, and a connection that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: slowburn, angst, fluff, sexual content, mentions of trauma, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, miscommunication, alcohol, drugs, opposites attract, manipulation, mentions of bullying, death, smut, insecurity galore, selective mutism, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, modern au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 9.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ status: ongoing

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Satoru can’t remember the last time he’s a good night’s sleep. Not the kind of sleep that makes you wake up periodically throughout the night—either in tremors or his own state of insomnia. The kind of sleep where you can feel cold even after wrapping yourself in multiple fluffy blankets, holding a warm body to your chest. The kind of sleep that makes it still feel like your body and mind are awake. In short, he doesn’t sleep. Going to bed late and waking up early, amounting to an average total of maybe three-ish to four-ish hours.

But, Satoru can’t remember the last time he went to bed thinking of a woman he’s barely spoken to. And he also can’t remember the last time he went to bed alone.

That in itself is questionable—maybe even a horrible thing. Who doesn’t remember the last time they slept without a stranger in their bed? Him, apparently. He’ll address that issue when the time comes.

Now, he’s more so getting annoyed with himself. It’s been two whole days, two whole nights of the same question bouncing around

In his brain. He quite literally only knows your name and the fact that you seem like a shy little thing. Maybe that’s what’s drawing him in? So used to women flocking him, flirting shamelessly, not afraid to get a little handsy with him. But you didn’t do any of that. You seemed like you were scared to even look in his direction. Perhaps you’re just waiting for him to make the first move.

Or you have more self respect than most women he comes across.

Either way, it’s not enough to validate his reasoning for thinking about you. Like stated before, he’s getting annoyed with himself. The fact that he can’t stop his brain from shutting off the image of you—the smell of you. But it’s also so enticing. So inviting. So tempting. How easy that was of you to intrigue him. Easier than it was for her.

Don’t, he mentally chastises himself, shutting off that brutal reminder before all else.

However at the end of the day, you’re no different than any other women he’s met and fucked. It’s just taking a little longer to get you in his grasp this time. That’s fine. Satoru has tons of patience, he knows what women like—how they work. You’re the same, practically. He can play this game, that’s completely okay.

“Not quite right,” Satoru hums, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’s leaning back slightly against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, a picture of casual authority. His sunglasses, as unnecessary indoors as they are iconic to him, perch on the bridge of his nose, partially hiding the faint circles under his eyes.

The student standing at the board hesitates, chalk hovering mid-air, glancing nervously back at him. The equation sprawled across the board is nearly correct, but there’s a glaring mistake in the third line—something Satoru noticed immediately.

“It’s a good effort,” he continues, his tone light yet tinged with amusement. “But you forgot to account for the boundary conditions. Physics doesn’t like to be neglected, you know. She’s picky like that.” A ripple of laughter moves through the room. Satoru smirks, enjoying the way he can command the energy of the space with just a few words. He gestures toward the error with a flick of his hand. “Go ahead, fix it.”

The student nods quickly and adjusts the equation, his face pink with concentration. Satoru lets his gaze drift across the rows of students as he waits, casually scanning for signs of engagement—or boredom.

His mind, however, refuses to stay present.

Two days. Two damn days, and the image of you hasn’t left him alone. He doesn’t even know why. You weren’t doing anything special when he saw you—just standing there, shy and quiet, holding onto your glass like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You weren’t fawning over him like most people do, weren’t trying to catch his eye. If anything, you seemed like you wanted to disappear.

And yet, here he is, still thinking about you. In the middle of his lecture at that.

He shifts his weight, adjusting his stance against the desk. Maybe it’s the challenge that intrigues him. Okay, so maybe you’re a bit different, yes. But not so different that you’re untouchable. He’s truly convinced that all it’ll take is time. And patience, of course.

But why is he even bothering?

The student finally steps back, looking at him expectantly. Satoru blinks, snapping back into the moment. He pushes off the desk and steps toward the board, glancing over the corrected equation. “Now that’s more like it,” he says, tapping the chalk against the boundary term they added. “See? Physics isn’t so scary when you remember the rules.”

The student exhales in relief, and Satoru gives them a small nod before turning back to the class. “Alright, who’s next? Don’t be shy—I promise I won’t bite."

Another wave of laughter follows his comment, and he grins, basking in the attention. But even as he moves on with the lesson, his mind keeps circling back to you. Your face. Your voice. That sweet, addictive scent that seemed to cling to the air around you. Satoru can’t decide whether it’s infuriating or thrilling. Either way, he knows one thing for certain: this little game isn’t over yet.

“Megumi,” Satoru calls, spinning the piece of chalk between his fingers before tossing it lightly in the boy’s direction. His voice cuts through the low murmur of the lecture hall. “You’re up. Derive the time-dependent Schrödinger equation for me.”

Megumi looks up from his notebook, his dark eyes narrowing as he catches the chalk with minimal effort. He sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that suggests he’s been called on far too many times to protest anymore. “Why me?” he mutters under his breath, earning a chuckle from a few of his peers.

“Because,” Satoru says, flashing his signature grin, “you’re my favorite. And I know you secretly love being in the spotlight.”

The class murmurs, but Megumi only stands, dragging his feet to the front of the room. He eyes the equation Satoru has half-written on the board—a basic starting point for the derivation—and sets his notebook down on the desk nearby.

“You’ve got this,” Satoru says, leaning casually against the podium. “Just start from the time-independent version and use the separation of variables. Easy, right?”

“Sure,” Megumi replies dryly, stepping up to the board.

He picks up the chalk and begins writing. After a few seconds of writing and silence from the classroom as they all observe him work it out, Megumi pauses, glancing at Satoru, who nods encouragingly. With that, he continues on, satisfied with his progress,

After another while, he finally underlines the solution and steps back, dropping the chalk onto the ledge.

Satoru claps once, the sound echoing through the room. “Beautiful work, Megumi. See, everyone? Physics isn’t scary when you’ve got a brain like his.”

Megumi mutters, “It’s scary when you’re the professor.”

Satoru grins. “Aw, don’t be like that. You love me.” He turns back to the class. “Alright, who wants to explain why this solution works? Bonus points if you don’t repeat what’s in the textbook.”

Megumi makes his way back to his seat, shaking his head as he settles into the chair. He tries to block out the rest of Satoru’s antics, which are just as relentless as usual. Satoru’s eyes are always scanning the class, searching for the next victim, his grin never fading as he playfully calls on more students. “Yumi! You’re up!” Satoru sings, completely oblivious to the fact that the student has already raised her hand, having answered a question earlier in the lecture.

Yumi hesitates but stands anyway, walking to the front of the room. She starts to talk, clearly struggling with the concepts, and Satoru can’t resist teasing her. He leans over the desk in front of him, chin resting on his hand.

“No, no, Yumi, think about it like this,” Satoru says dramatically, throwing his hand up as if he’s revealing the answer to a grand mystery. “This is just like the time you—” He stops, eyeing her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You don’t want me to tell everyone about that time you tried to solve for a non-existent eigenvalue in your last exam, do you?”

The class laughs, Yumi’s face flushes red. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll spare you. But just remember, eigenvalues and eigenvectors don’t have to be that hard. Right, guys?”

The room erupts into snickers, and Satoru turns back to the board, clearly satisfied with his little jab. Megumi rolls his eyes, sinking lower in his seat. This is just another day in the life of Satoru Gojo. As the lecture drones on, Satoru finally gets around to the more challenging topics—perturbation theory and quantum tunneling—but even then, he’s effortlessly weaving in jokes, keeping the atmosphere light. To anyone else, it might seem like a circus, but to some, it’s just Satoru being Satoru: charming, unfiltered, and somehow always entertaining. Satoru finishes the lesson, clapping his hands together to signal the end of class.

“All right, that’s all for today. Don’t forget to read up on the next chapter—expect a quiz next week!” Satoru’s voice is loud and enthusiastic, as always. “And Yumi, remember what I said. Eigenvalues, my dear. Eigenvalues.”

The class starts to pack up, and soon Satoru is left alone in the lecture hall. Walking over to take a seat at his desk, mindlessly swiveling in his chair. Head tilted up as he focuses on the high ceiling, blowing a small raspberry of boredom.

Quantum mechanics. Abstract algebra. God, how boring. Lecturing everyday about those two really makes his days feel short and fast at the same time. Sometimes, he wonders how it would’ve been if he took up a more artistic degree instead of something STEM related. Maybe he would be a music professor or a film professor. He almost laughs at the thought, yeah right.

As much as he hates boring things, Satoru is a big time nerd.

After some more swiveling around, legs kicking out in a childish manner, the sound of a text message brings him back to life. Grabbing his device from his desk, he sees the name Asahi. When he clicks on the message, he’s met with a question.

Asahi:

Hey, you busy tomorrow?

With a small tilt of his head, he types back a response.

Satoru:

What time?

Asahi:

2pm

Satoru:

Should be, why?

Asahi:

Can you pick up Haruto from school for me? I have an interview

Satoru sighs, pausing for a moment. Haruto, his nephew who’s only five years old. He loves the little boy as if he were his own, and he looks like a complete replica of him. Of his mother.

Satoru leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk as he thinks for a moment. He can already picture Haruto’s wide, curious eyes, the way he lights up when she sees him. It’s impossible to say no to him, even when he’s deep in his own thoughts or wrapped up in his usual chaos.

Satoru:

Sure, I can do that.

He sets his phone down, a small smile forming on his lips as he thinks about the little boy. It’s strange how easy it is for him to care about him, to feel something genuine amidst his often careless demeanor. He never thought he’d get attached to someone so young, but Haruto somehow made it happen, just by existing. Maybe it’s because he’s his nephew. Or maybe it’s because he sees his mother whenever he looks at him.

“Ugh,” Satoru shakes his head, willing away the bitter, burning sensation he feels slowly crawl up his esophagus. He stretches his arms over his head, glancing at the clock on the wall. Tomorrow at 2pm, he’ll be out the door, picking up the child who shares his mischievous smile and contagious energy. The Gojo genes run strong, and not just by physical appearances.

But then, the weight of his earlier thoughts presses in on him again. It’s like an annoying friend constantly trying to hang out with you even after you’ve made it clear you don’t want to. For a second, he wonders how it is you’ve invaded his subconscious without even trying. He rubs his temples, trying to push the thought away. Nope, she’s not special.

But he’s got time, right? Time for what? To figure out why you’re still on his mind? To somehow make sense of why he’s so intrigued by someone he barely knows?

With a final sigh, Satoru grabs his coat and heads out of the lecture hall to grab some lunch in between his next class. The faintest sense of anticipation buzzing in his chest. Tomorrow might be a distraction—a break from the usual. He’ll see his nephew, the only family he has, and he’ll have a good day. However, with everything else going on in his mind, it feels like anything but.

“Why don’t you get on any dating apps, hm?”

Your lips thin into a grimace, brows knitting together. You shove your hands into the pockets of your cardigan, head shaking. “That’s not real at all,” you mutter.

Shoko sighs through her nostrils, leaning back in the booth. “I mean, it could be. People meet their husbands and wives on there sometimes. You just never know.”

“Exactly.”

Her eyebrow raises at you, bringing up what must be her fourth coffee of the day to her lips. You two have decided to spend some small time together at a nearby cafe before you have to go back to your respective jobs. She seems more adamant about dating than you do yourself. “Look, I just think it would be nice, you know? You’re a hopeless romantic.”

You frown.

“In a good way,” she quickly adds. “Any guy would like that. And I want to see you get treated nice and cute. You’re just not into dating right now or something?”

You exhale, fingers tapping along the cup of your iced coffee. The condensation begins to dampen the tips of your fingers. In a way, you’re not just not into it, but you feel like you’re also not ready. Sure, you’re a hopeless romantic. You love cheesy movies and novels, you enjoy the thought of being in love with someone and having that beautiful form of intimacy, but you also can’t help that nagging feeling in your soul that it’ll end the same way it did last time.

Your own hesitation and fear is what keeps you at bay.

Shoko watches you with a quiet intensity, her coffee cup still hovering near her lips after some sips. She doesn’t push further right away, letting the lull in the conversation settle as you trace absent patterns on the side of your cup. The clinking of mugs and soft hum of chatter from the surrounding tables fills the space between you. “I don’t know,” you finally admit, voice low but steady. “It’s not just about not being into dating. It’s more... I don’t think I’m ready to open myself up like that again.”

Her brows furrow slightly, and she sets her coffee down with a soft clink. “You mean because of your ex?”

You wince. She doesn’t have to say the name for the memories to start creeping in. The late nights spent crying, the way you questioned everything about yourself, the hollow ache that came after it all fell apart. You didn’t think you were still carrying that weight, but maybe you were. Obviously you were.

“Partly,” you admit. “But it’s not just him. It’s the whole thing—the vulnerability, the risk. Letting someone in and having them... leave. Or worse, break me again. And I’m already so used to doing things alone, just being alone. I don’t need someone to come in and ruin what I’ve built.”

Shoko’s expression softens, and for once, she doesn’t try to mask her concern with sarcasm or a flat, teasing comment. “Not every guy is like that, Y/N. You know that, right? There are good ones out there.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, your gaze dropping to your drink. “But how do you tell the good ones apart from the bad ones? Before it’s too late? I don’t want to take any risks…”

Her lips press into a thin line as she considers your question. “You can’t always,” she admits after a moment. “But that’s the point of trying, isn’t it? You take a chance because the reward could be worth the risk. And honestly? You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are. You’ve got to give yourself that chance, too. Don’t let some douchebag from your past hold you back from finding someone in your present. You don’t deserve that. ”

You sigh, the words hitting a little too close to the part of you that still dares to hope. You know you shouldn’t let things mull over and predict how your future will look, but it’s so hard when every time a man even attempts to flirt with you, you’re hit with bursts of horrible nostalgia. You didn’t even think nostalgia could be horrible. Saturday proved it could. You feel bad for comparing strangers to a man you regret meeting, but it’s just the way your mind works. It’s almost like a defense mechanism. “I don’t know, Shoko. Maybe someday. But right now, it just feels easier to be on my own. I’m not too unhappy.”

She nods slowly, sipping her coffee again. Setting the cup down before speaking. “Fair enough. But just know... you can’t hide behind those walls forever. Love doesn’t work like that. I know you’re not unhappy, but even the littlest amount, I don’t like. I want you to have that extra support, besides your family, besides me.”

Her words linger long after your coffee is gone and you’ve both parted ways. You tell yourself she’s wrong—that you’re fine as you are. But deep down, there’s a tiny flicker of doubt. A part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Is it wishful thinking? Probably. Shoko’s heart is in the right place—you know that. She’s the kind of friend who wants you to have the kind of love story people dream about, the kind that could make your life feel like one of those movies where everything falls perfectly into place.

It seems like Shoko just wants the best for you, she wants you to live out your own cheesy romance novel. You’re grateful for her optimism, for the way she believes in you even when you can’t quite believe in yourself. You thank her for that, but at the end of the day, you don’t think you could handle heartbreak anytime soon.

While you may seem put together on a surface level, your emotions still feel incredibly weak. She, or anyone for that matter, doesn’t know how fragile you really are. Sure, you come off as put together—calm, composed, of course, very reserved—but beneath that, you’re still piecing yourself back together. Every crack, every bruise left behind from past heartaches feels like it could split wide open again if you’re not careful. You’re sensitive—that much is true. And you don’t try to be, but it’s just you.

So, the truth is, you’re not sure if you could handle that. Not again. Not anytime soon.

You sigh, absently brushing away a piece of hair from your face. Thinking back to it—Sensitive. It’s a word you’ve heard all your life, always said with a tinge of judgment, as if being soft-hearted is a weakness instead of simply you. You don’t try to be this way—it’s not like you wake up every day deciding to let the world’s weight sink into your chest. It just happens.

You wish you were stronger, had more thick skin to take what the world and people have to offer you with a straight face—moving on. You’re envious of people that can do that. Even envious of people who have other ways of coping than work and your cats. But again, that’s what Shoko doesn’t quite understand. Love might be worth the risk, but risks don’t come without consequences. For someone like you, even the smallest breach feels like it could shatter your whole infrastructure. So maybe—hopefully you’ll take that leap someday. But for now, it’s safer to stay where you are, no matter how wistful Shoko’s dreams for you might be.

You remind yourself you’ve made it this far on your own. Still cleaning up past wounds, but that’s okay. Of course, you would prefer if the process was a little faster than this—if you could snap your fingers and be ready to dive headfirst into something new without the hesitation or fear. But forcing yourself to be content with something again is not on your agenda. Healing takes time.

You’ve moved to Tokyo for that sole reason. The bustling city, with its endless noise and neon lights, offered you a chance to hit reset. A complete contrast from your life in the small, quiet countryside. Tokyo’s a fresh start for you—mentally, physically, environmentally, in every way possible. It was your way of shedding the weight of the past, of stepping into a world so big and overwhelming that maybe, just maybe, you could lose the parts of yourself still tethered to old hurts.

Tokyo feels like a city of possibility, a place where no one knows your name or your story unless you tell them. Here, you can decide who you want to be. And even if you haven’t figured that out yet, there’s comfort in knowing you’re no longer stuck in the same place, walking the same streets haunted by the same memories. You’re here to start over. And as of now, that’s enough.

Sometimes, the thought of a fresh start is comforting. Other times, it’s terrifying. Starting over doesn’t erase the person you used to be or the things that happened to you—it just gives you a chance to approach it all from a different angle. And while Tokyo might seem like the perfect backdrop for reinvention, it also magnifies how small and unmoored you feel in a city so alive with movement.

You’ve noticed that your routines are slowly forming, though. The visits with Shoko, the quiet walks through the nearby park, the little bookstore you stumbled across last week that now feels like your personal haven—these things ground you in a city that never sleeps. You like the way the city hums, its energy pressing against your skin and making you feel part of something bigger, even on the days when you’re not sure where you fit in it all.

Sometimes, there’s a part of you that wonders if moving was just an escape. Did you come here to heal or to run away? Did you believe a change of scenery would make you forget everything you’ve been trying not to dwell on? Some nights, when the silence in your apartment grows too loud, those questions creep in, but you try to push them away. You remind yourself that running is sometimes necessary. It’s not weakness—it’s survival. Entering the grounds of the kindergarten again, you erase your inner turmoil and ready yourself for the job again.

Practice, not perfection.

“I thought I invited Suguru.”

“Suguru invited me.”

“It’s called boy’s night for a reason, Ieiri.”

“What, and miss you two fondling each other all night? Can’t do that.”

Satoru huffs childishly as Shoko enters his place. A straight faced Suguru beside her who only offers his friend a shrug when he sends a glare his way. He locks the door behind the two, following them as they make their way into his kitchen. “Please, make yourselves at home,” he says, sarcasm in his voice.

“Already planning on it,” Suguru and Shoko say in unison.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Shoko is already reaching for a glass of wine, Suguru some snacks. “Anywho,” Satoru begins, arms crossing. “Don’t you have work, Shoko?”

Shoko shakes her head, looking over at her white-haired friend. “Early night tonight. Plus, I’ve been having a major headache since Saturday.”

“That was two days ago,” Suguru flatly responds.

"Exactly," Shoko replies, deadpan, as she pours herself a generous glass of wine. "Two days too long." She leans against the counter, taking a sip, while Satoru narrows his eyes at her.

"You’re unbelievable," he mutters, before glancing at Suguru. "And you—what happened to our night? You were supposed to bring beer, not her."

Suguru shrugs, completely unbothered. "You know how this works, Satoru. She invites herself, I don’t argue. Besides, she’s more entertaining than you."

Shoko smirks into her glass. "See? I’m the life of the party."

Satoru groans, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks between his two friends. "I swear, you guys are impossible. I had plans, you know. Important plans."

"Yeah?" Shoko raises a brow. "What, binge-watching rom-coms and crying into your popcorn?"

Suguru chuckles under his breath, popping open a bag of chips and tossing one into his mouth. "Sounds accurate."

"First of all," Satoru says, pointing at them both, "I don’t cry during rom-coms. Second, I had a new board game I wanted to try, but I guess some people don’t appreciate culture."

"Board game?" Shoko asks, blinking. "Who plays board games anymore?"

"Me!" Satoru retorts. "And if you two weren’t heathens, you’d understand the strategic brilliance of Life."

Shoko and Suguru exchange a look before bursting into laughter, leaving Satoru to pout dramatically. "You’re lucky I tolerate you guys," he grumbles, stalking off toward the living room. "But you’re playing, whether you like it or not."

“That game is old and long.” Shoko walks over, plopping herself onto Satoru’s couch.

“You’re old and long.” Satoru swiftly remarks, getting met with a pillow straight to the face. He grumpily peers over at Shoko, hitting her back with the pillow on her arm.

Suguru, the pacifist in this situation, settled between his two companions. Leaned back with the ankle of his right foot over his left lap. His elbow atop the back of the couch in a lazy manner. "Satoru, stop instigating," Suguru says, his tone exasperated but laced with amusement. "You’re going to end up with wine spilled all over your couch if you keep this up."

Shoko scoffs, lifting her glass in mock threat. "Maybe I should spill it. Wouldn’t that teach him some manners?"

Satoru gasps, clutching his chest as if wounded. "You wouldn’t dare! This couch is imported Italian leather. Do you know how much it costs?"

"Knowing you," Suguru interjects, "probably too much for something you’re going to ruin within a year anyway."

"Rude," Satoru huffs, flopping his back onto the couch, snatching a chip from Suguru’s bowl. He pops it into his mouth, chewing dramatically. "You two come into my home, drink my wine, eat my snacks, insult my lifestyle—"

"And yet," Shoko cuts him off, "you’d be bored to death without us."

Satoru pouts but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he sighs and grabs the board game box from the coffee table and tosses it onto Suguru’s lap. "Set it up, then, oh wise peacemaker. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right."

Suguru sighs, opening the box with practiced ease. "Fine. But if this drags on for hours and you start crying when Shoko beats you, I’m leaving early."

Shoko chuckles, raising her glass. "Cheers to that."

Satoru narrows his eyes at them both. "Just for that, I’m going to crush you guys. Prepare to witness strategic genius."

"Uh-huh," Shoko says, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. "Sure you are."

Suguru shakes his head, suppressing a laugh as he begins to sort the game pieces. It’s just another typical night with the trio—bickering, banter, and an overinflated sense of competition.

The night drowns on, with a couple glasses of wine being consumed, chips, and of course a small breakdown of distress after Satoru is forced to give Shoko some money from his earnings. Eventually, the three have winded down. Some comfortable silence here and there with a few mingling conversations. Suguru stands up from the couch, dusting his clothes off as he makes his way over to the bathroom. Presumably to splash some cold water over his face to sober himself up before he heads back home.

Leaving Shoko and Satoru alone, she’s busy doing who knows what on her phone. Bored, Satoru is mindlessly eating some of the popcorn they made about an hour ago, lips pursing in thought. He’s debating something. Maybe now that Shoko’s a little tipsy, she’ll be more loose-lipped. “So…” he starts calmly, obnoxiously chewing loudly.

“Hm?” Shoko hums back in obvious disinterest, scrolling her timeline.

For a second, Satoru weighs out the options of what kind of reaction this question will cause. Can’t be too bad, right? Shoko’s his friend, and friends are there for each other. “What’s up with your friend?” Real smooth, Satoru.

Shoko’s thumb halts mid-scroll, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen as if it holds the answer to his question. She doesn’t look up immediately, making Satoru shift uncomfortably on the couch. “My friend, huh?” She repeats slowly, her voice carrying a skeptical edge but her expression giving nothing away. “Which one are you talking about, Satoru? I’ve got lots of friends.”

Satoru scoffs, leaning back dramatically against the couch and tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth. “You know who I’m talking about,” he says through his chewing. “Y/N. The cute, shy one.”

At this, Shoko finally looks up from her phone, her brow arching high. “No.”

Now Satoru looks over at her, lip quirking upwards. “What? No what?”

Shoko locks her phone and sets it on the coffee table, crossing her arms as she gives Satoru a pointed look. “No, you’re not going there,” she says plainly.

“Going where?” he asks innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“With Y/N,” Shoko says, her voice firm. “She’s not your type, and you’re definitely not hers.”

“Not my type?” Satoru repeats, placing a hand dramatically over his chest like she’d just wounded him. “Shoko, I don’t have a type. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy.”

“Right,” Shoko snorts, rolling her eyes. “Your ‘opportunity’ usually starts and ends at a one-night stand.”

“Ouch,” he says, feigning offense. “You make me sound like some kind of—”

“Player?” she interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “That’s because you are one. And I’m not letting you mess with Y/N. She’s fragile.”

Satoru scoffs. “Fragile? She doesn’t seem fragile to me. Shy, yeah. But fragile? Come on, Shoko, give me some credit. I’m not gonna break her.”

“No, but you might hurt her,” Shoko shoots back. “And trust me, she doesn’t need that. Y/N’s been through enough already. She doesn’t need someone like you swooping in, flashing your pretty-boy smile, and leaving her worse off than before.”

Satoru frowns, sitting up straighter. “You act like I’m some kind of villain. I’m not that bad, you know.”

Shoko exhales deeply, shaking her head. “First of all, Satoru, I already told you—don’t mess with my friends. Especially her. She’s off-limits, remember?”

“Off-limits?” he repeats, brows furrowing together with annoyance. “Come on, Shoko. I’m not trying to ‘mess’ with her. I’m just… curious.”

“Uh-huh,” she deadpans, tilting her head. “Look, Y/N’s been through a lot. She’s not like the women you’re used to. She doesn’t need someone waltzing into her life and turning it upside down just because you’re ‘curious.’” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “Satoru, you’re my friend, so I’m saying this with love: don’t even think about it. Y/N is off-limits. Got it?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. Satoru opens his mouth to protest, but Shoko raises a hand to stop him. “And before you say something dumb like ‘I’m different,’ save it. I know you, Satoru. You’re my friend, and I care about you, but you’re not exactly… boyfriend material for someone like her. No offense.”

“None taken,” he lies, his ego slightly bruised. “But, hypothetically, if I were serious—”

“You’re not,” Shoko cuts in firmly, sighing with exasperation. “I know you’re not, you know you’re not.”

Satoru blinks at her, caught off guard by her unyielding tone.

“Let it go,” she says, picking up her phone again. “Y/N deserves someone who’s going to treat her right. Someone stable, patient, and not…you. And that’s okay.”

For once, Satoru doesn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he sits quietly, tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth as he mulls over her words. Silently brewing with frustration at his friend for thinking so little of him, annoyance for her assumptions, and confusion at why she’s acting like she’s the gatekeeper of you or something. Who even are you to Shoko? If you two were as close as she’s making it seem, why hasn’t he met you sooner?

Unless, she’s been trying to keep him from coming across you.

Shoko’s low expectations of him are almost laughable. Almost. That thought really makes him want to scoff outwardly. He feels oddly defensive, like he should clear his name with Shoko who obviously has little standards in him. It’s a strange, unfamiliar defensiveness bubbling up—a rare urge to protect his honor, his character, his intentions. But is that so wrong of him to be curious about a girl who’s cute? That’s normal. Shoko is really taking this out of hand, acting as if he’ll stomp on your heart and dignity.

And while he’s not entirely sure how he would treat you, he’s not a horrible man. Sure, he’s flirted, dated, and yes, he’s left a string of fleeting romances in his wake. But does that mean he’s incapable of something more? Of curiosity that isn’t purely self-serving? Of wanting to get to know someone because they’re different? Because they seem… real?

The more Shoko’s words replay in his mind, the more absurd they feel. But the more he’s feeling the need to prove her wrong. Was it so wrong of him to be intrigued by a girl who’s cute? Who’s shy in a way that feels endearing, but not performative? That’s normal. He’s human, after all.

Shoko, though—she’s blowing this way out of proportion. Acting like he’s some sort of emotional wrecking ball set to demolish your strength and your own well-being in one fell swoop. He rolls his eyes. Still, as much as her words prick at his pride, they also plant something else: doubt. It lingers at the edges of his mind, gnawing at his confidence. He’s never been particularly introspective about his relationships—at least, not the short-lived ones. But now he’s wondering: What would I do? How would I treat her if I got close to her?

He doesn’t have a concrete answer, and that’s… unsettling.

Maybe like a fuck-buddy. Casual, simple, no strings attached—that’s how Satoru’s relationships usually go. It’s easier that way. No expectations, no messy emotions, no one clinging to him for something he’s not willing to give. It works for him.

Because while he’s confident he’s not the villain Shoko paints him to be, he’s also not entirely sure if he’s the hero in this narrative either. And that, more than anything, stirs something foreign in his chest. Something that feels uncomfortably like self-awareness. And Satoru does not need that right now. So, he does what he always does. Forget. Forget the curiosity gnawing at him. Forget the way your quiet demeanor intrigued him more than the loud, shameless advances of countless others. It wouldn’t be hard to forget you, he only has your name. No sort of connection to you besides Shoko. No number, no anything beyond Shoko, who’s already made it abundantly clear that you’re off-limits. He doesn’t know where you live, your hobbies, or even your favorite coffee order. You’re practically a stranger. Forgetting you should be effortless.

He doesn’t know anything about you other than the fact that you smell like sweet honey drizzled on the prettiest flower, a scent that lingered in his mind longer than he’d care to admit because he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who’s own smell pulled him in like that.

It’s probably for the best. Shoko’s making it seem like you’re the type of woman who’d want something more and meaningful. Something he can’t—won’t—give. In a sense, Shoko’s saving him from the dread of dealing with a girl who will complain to him all the time. Saving him from the inevitable headache of a girl who’d demand too much. The complaints, the misunderstandings, the emotions. He can picture it already, and it feels stifling.

Yeah, it’s better this way. Satoru Gojo can be very good at forgetting.

Shoko heads home that night before Suguru. When Satoru is walking him to his car, Suguru is dead sober. Shivering from the cold night wind outside, unlocking his car. “Are we still going to the movies this weekend?” Satoru asks.

Suguru shakes his head. “Nah, I have a lot of errands to run and Shoko said she’s busy helping her friend with some community event.”

Satoru huffs, a white puff of air forming. “Since when do her friends do community events?”

Suguru chuckles lightly, opening the car door but pausing to lean against the frame. “Since her friend’s actually a decent person, unlike the two of us.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie as the cold bites at his fingertips. “I didn’t ask for a lecture on morality. Who even is this friend anyway?”

“I think she said her name was Y/N…or something like that.”

“She’s been mentioning her a lot lately.”

Suguru glances up at him, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, yeah? Really? You’ve been hearing of her?”

Satoru doesn’t immediately respond, his expression remaining neutral despite the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Maybe,” he says nonchalantly. “What’s the deal with her? Shoko’s been acting all protective and weird about it.”

“If it’s because you’re trying to get at her, Satoru, it’s also because Shoko knows you, Satoru.”

“Knows me?” Satoru scoffs, frowning in offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suguru raises a brow, his head shaking in disapproval. “It means Shoko doesn’t want you pulling your usual crap and scaring off her nice, sweet friend. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

“I am nice and sweet,” Satoru shoots back indignantly. “When have I ever—”

“Do you really want me to start listing examples?” Suguru cuts him off, seriousness now dancing in his eyes.

Satoru clicks his tongue, looking away as a faint blush creeps up his neck. “Whatever,” he mutters, kicking at a stray pebble on the driveway.

Suguru sigh this time. “Look, her friend’s not like the girls you’re used to. She’s been through a lot, from what Shoko’s vaguely told me. So maybe—”

“Don’t,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning back to face him. “Don’t start with the ‘be careful’ bullshit speech. I’m not planning anything, alright?”

Suguru studies him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugs, stepping into his car. “Good. Keep it that way. Don’t start shit with her friends anymore.”

Satoru watches as Suguru starts the engine, his friend’s words lingering in the chilly night air long after the car disappears down the street. He huffs, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he heads back inside.

Nice and sweet, huh? Maybe he should be offended. Or maybe—just maybe—he should prove them wrong. He entertains that idea before sliding into his warm shower.

Nope, just forget.

As if to further set his mantra into place, he reaches for his phone from behind the shower curtain. Clicking on a random woman’s name, and typing out a small phrase.

Satoru:

Come over

“Clean up! Clean up! Everybody clean up!” Mrs. Inoue’s voice sounds throughout the classroom, followed by her and your claps to emphasize the beats of the small song. The classroom is alive with the chatter and movement of little hands tidying up toys and art supplies. Mrs. Inoue’s cheerful voice leads the way, her clapping rhythmically keeping the children in sync. “Clean up! Clean up! Everybody clean up!” she sings again, glancing over at you with a warm smile that you return instinctively.

Clapping along to the beat as you walk between the miniature tables and chairs, gently guiding the kids who seem more interested in playing than cleaning. “That’s right, Kenta, put the blocks back in the bin. Good job, Aiko! You’re such a great helper,” you encourage, your tone soft but enthusiastic.

The kids respond eagerly to your praise, their small faces lighting up as they scramble to finish their tasks. You crouch beside one of the younger ones, helping her gather stray crayons from the floor. “You’re doing so well, Mika,” you say, giving her a little nod of approval.

Mrs. Inoue claps her hands together once more, signaling the end of the song. “Great job, everyone! Look how clean our classroom is now,” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with pride as the children beam at the acknowledgment.

You straighten up, smoothing down your cardigan as you share a quick glance with Mrs. Inoue. There’s a quiet satisfaction in seeing the children thrive in this structured chaos, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in the warmth of the lively little classroom. There’s a small tug at your clothing, looking down to see a little boy holding a broken car to you. “Oh no, what happened here?” You ask, crouching down to better face the toy.

“I…I was playing and I broke it….’m sorry, Teacher Y/N.” Haruto, an honest but lovingly obedient young boy, admits shamefully. Looking into your eyes with his own pair of clear sapphire ones. A small pout to his lips that shows just how apologetic he is.

So adorable.

Your heart melts at the sight of Haruto’s pout, his little hands clutching the broken toy as though it’s the most important thing in the world. You reach out and gently place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Haruto,” you say softly, your voice kind and soothing. “Toys sometimes break when we play with them. It’s not your fault.”

He looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, still unsure. “Really?” he asks timidly, his voice small.

“Really,” you confirm with a warm smile. “And you know what? We can try to fix it together.” You take the car from his hands, inspecting the damage. The wheel has popped off, and the axle looks a little bent, but it’s nothing that can’t be mended. “This looks like an easy fix. I think we just need some glue and maybe a little bit of patience. Do you remember what patience means?

Haruto’s face brightens, his pout quickly replaced with a hopeful smile and a frantic nod. “Really? You can fix it, Teacher Y/N?”

“Of course,” you say, giving him a playful wink. “I’m a toy doctor.”

He giggles at that, the shame from moments before entirely forgotten. You stand up, holding the car carefully. “Why don’t you go wash your hands for snack time while I take this to the repair shop?” you suggest, gesturing toward the sink where a small line of children is already forming.

“Okay!” Haruto chirps. “Can I help after I wash my hands?” You nod and he runs off with newfound energy.

Glancing at the broken car in your hands, your smile lingering as you head toward the supply closet. Moments like this remind you why you love working with children—their honesty, their resilience, and the way their little smiles can brighten even the cloudiest days.

When Haruto is done with washing and drying his hands, he skips back over to you. Watching meticulously as you describe what needs to be fixed and hot to fix it. He stands beside you, peering over your arm as you carefully lay the broken car on the table. His small hands rest on the edge of the table, and his eyes are wide with interest.

“Okay, Haruto,” you say, kneeling to his level so he can see better. “Here’s what we need to do. First, we have to figure out where this wheel was attached. See this little piece here?” You point to the broken axle, which has a slight bend. “That’s where the wheel used to be. We’ll need to straighten this out first.”

Haruto nods, his lips pressed together in concentration. “And then we glue it?”

“Exactly,” You smile, appreciating how seriously he’s taking the repair. “We’ll need to use just a tiny bit of glue so it doesn’t get messy. But we also have to hold it in place for a few seconds so it sticks really well.”

Haruto watches closely as you demonstrate, gently pressing the wheel back into place after straightening the axle with a small tool from the supply closet. “Can I try?” he asks eagerly, bouncing on his toes.

“Of course.” You pass the toy to him, guiding his small hands as he carefully applies the glue. Together, you hold the wheel in place, counting aloud to ten to let the adhesive set.

When you release it, the wheel stays attached, and Haruto gasps in delight. “It’s fixed!”

“It sure is,” you confirm, giving him a proud smile. “And you helped fix it, Haruto. You’re officially a toy repair expert now.”

Haruto beams, clutching the car to his chest like it’s brand new. “Thank you, Teacher Y/N!” he chirps, his excitement contagious.

You chuckle, giving his hair a gentle tousle. “You’re welcome. Just be gentle with it next time, okay?”

“I will!” he promises, running off to show his friends the newly repaired car.

As you watch him join his classmates with a wide grin, a sense of fulfillment washes over you. “Okay, friends!” Mrs. Inoue exclaims, standing in front of the room. “There are five more minutes until pick up time. Why don’t we go around in a circle and share one thing we learned today?”

The children quickly begin gathering on the colorful carpet, their giggles and chatter settling into a low murmur as they find their spots. You help guide a few stragglers into the circle, gently nudging them forward with an encouraging smile. Mrs. Inoue sits cross-legged at the front, hands folded in her lap. “Alright, who wants to start?” she asks, her gaze scanning the eager little faces.

“I will!” Haruto raises his hand, his repaired car clutched tightly in the other. He looks at you briefly before speaking, his voice loud and proud. “I learned how to fix my car! Teacher Y/N showed me how to glue it back together.”

A few kids gasp, their attention drawn to the toy in his hands. “Cool!” one of his classmates says, their eyes wide with admiration. You feel a small warmth in your chest as Haruto beams, his pride contagious.

“Great job, Haruto!” Mrs. Inoue says with a smile. “That’s an excellent thing to learn.”

Another hand shoots up. “I learned how to count to fifty!” Akiko says, puffing up her chest with pride. “I didn’t even need help!”

The circle continues, each child eagerly sharing their new knowledge. Some learned to write their names, others discovered how to share during playtime, and a few even shared lessons about kindness or patience. When the last child finishes, Mrs. Inoue claps her hands together. “What a wonderful day of learning, everyone! You should all feel very proud of yourselves.” She looks up toward you, nodding slightly, a silent acknowledgment of how much effort you’ve put into the day.

You smile softly, giving her a small nod in return. The atmosphere is filled with innocence and growth, it reminds you of why you’re here. As the children begin scampering up and walking over to their cubbies to grab their belongings and prepare for their parents, you and Mrs. Inoue are helping a few.

Soon, the parents start trickling in to receive their children. Some even run up to their parent’s legs with excitement, calling out either “Mommy!” or “Daddy!”

Mrs. Inoue and you wave goodbye to the children, offering exchanged brief interactions with the parents in politeness. As the classroom slowly starts to empty, you notice one child hovering in the back.

“Haruto?” You ask, coming over. “What’s wrong? Is Daddy coming to pick you up?”

Haruto shakes his head. “No, Daddy’s not coming. Uncle is coming!”

“Oh,” you respond, head tilting. You give Mrs. Inoue a look that tells her you’re a little concerned about the safety of Haruto going home with a man you’ve never met.

Instead, she shakes you off with a smile. “No worries, his uncle’s a listed emergency contact. He’s come a few times before you started working here.”

Relieved but still cautious, you nod, squatting down to Haruto’s level. “That’s exciting. Do you like when your uncle picks you up?”

Haruto’s face lights up with a wide grin, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “Yes! Uncle is so funny, and he always gives me candy!”

“Candy, huh? That sounds fun, but don’t eat too much, okay?” you tease, tapping the tip of his nose lightly.

Haruto giggles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Okay, Teacher Y/N. I won’t, I’m a healthy boy.”

You chuckle, head tilting in tenderness. But it’s suddenly ruined when a god awful familiar voice reaches your ears, causing you to momentarily falter. You freeze for a second, the warmth of the interaction with Haruto quickly evaporating as the voice cuts through the air, unmistakably familiar.

“Haruto! Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late,” the voice calls out. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize the drawl almost instantly, the smoothness of his tone, the way it rolls off his tongue.

Him.

You shift, standing up and turning slowly. There he is, standing in the doorway of the classroom, leaning casually against the frame with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He’s looking directly at Haruto, but you can see his eyes flicker to you for just a split second. Surprise takes over as his eyebrows lift, lips parting for a fraction of a second but it's laced with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “Oh, Y/N, right?”

“Teacher Y/N!” Haruto corrects his uncle, to which the latter just playful shushes him, picking him up in his arms.

Your lips purse awkwardly, hands held behind your back in a rigid fashion. Just how small is this world? You never thought you’d see the same guy from this weekend in a place you now consider one of your safe havens. It feels wrong and he looks out of place. But the child clinging to his neck says otherwise.

In order to not make this situation any more unpleasant as it is, you should probably say something instead of staring at him like an idiot still. “Y—” you clear your throat, feeling the unsavory, but familiar scratchiness come back. You can only hum back in response, peering away.

He subtly scans you head to toe, appearing as if he is about to say something back until Mrs. Inoue thankful interrupts. “Oh, Satoru. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Her voice is filled with curiosity but also a warmth that teeters the line of worry. And from the flashing look in Satoru’s eyes that only lasts a second, you’re immediately alert. Brows furrowing slightly in wonder as to why Mrs. Inoue is talking with him in a way a concerned friend would. “Oh well, please take care of yourself. And Haruto did a great job today.” Mrs. Inoue smiles, waving at Haruto.

Satoru, still holding Haruto in his arms, smiles warmly at Mrs. Inoue, though there's a subtle tightness in his expression, as if her concern hits a little too close to home. He shifts the boy slightly, setting him down to stand beside him, before giving a half-hearted chuckle. "I’m good, Mrs. Inoue. Don’t worry about me," he says, though his eyes shift for a brief moment, betraying a hint of discomfort. "And thanks. Haruto's always good at keeping busy, right, buddy?" he says, ruffling the boy’s hair, though Haruto just beams up at him, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension.

Mrs. Inoue doesn't seem convinced, her gaze lingering a moment longer before she nods in understanding. “Alright then, Satoru. Take care of yourself and Haruto. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Her tone softens, and the unspoken message seems to settle between them for a moment. She turns around to head deeper into the room, picking up a few stray toys that missed the children. Satoru watches her leave with a small nod, the atmosphere between the two of you is thick with something unspoken, but as Haruto tugs at his uncle’s sleeve, the moment is broken.

"Uncle Satoru, I want to show you my toy!" Haruto says eagerly, pulling at his uncle's jacket.

Satoru’s smile shifts into something a bit warmer, his earlier discomfort melting away as he focuses on the child in front of him. "Alright, alright, let’s see this toy," he chuckles, his hand resting gently on Haruto’s head.

You take a small step back, still feeling the weight of the strange coincidence. Trying to keep things neutral, but words feel awkward on your tongue. “Bye, Teacher Y/N!” Haruto grins brightly, waving with one hand as he’s already walking out the door while the other hand is held firmly in his uncle’s grip. You give the boy a wave, lip peeking up halfway.

Satoru glances back at you over his shoulder as he adjusts Haruto, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes, smiling in a way that shows off his pearly whites, giving you a small nod. "Take care, see you around."

And with that, the two of them leave, the door clicking softly behind them. You stand there for a moment longer than you should, trying to shake the unease creeping in, but all you can think about is how unexpectedly small the world has become. The feelings from Saturday rise up in your bones, the stiffness and uncertainty.

It’s uncomfortable seeing the guy who tried to hit on you that past weekend in a place so wholesome, picking up his nephew nonetheless. But you’re just glad he didn’t make things worse. Not that he should have with a kid in his arms. And you’re also proud of yourself for keeping things cordial enough, despite the fact that you just wanted to hide in embarrassment the moment you made eye contact with him. It’s almost like when you were in high school and you’d see one of your classmates at a random time in the grocery store.

It’s fine, you tell yourself, going over to wash your hands. Despite the fact that this man knows where you work, nothing will happen. If the time comes where you need to state your disinterest, you’ll do so. It’ll be hard, of course. But you can do it.

If only you could get the words out.

a/n: hi! i'm not entirely happy with my work in this chapter, but I'm still going to try and show it as much love as vl

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@myahfig4 @yigaclvn @shoma-nom @dulce-incitacion @heartsteelkaynconsumer

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@kirachuyuu @sylussss7 @honoredalone @roronoazorosbxtchh @cherrythiccums0 @mxlktae

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thewitchblue · 2 days ago

Text

"Ow, shit. I think I pulled a muscle in my arm."

Jason hissed in pain and rubbed the aching muscle. You growled back,

"No shit, you just attempted to flip a car."

Jason scowled at you. He wonders sometimes why you are on the field with him. He can handle himself.

With a playful eye roll, you say,

"I can heal that."

Jason blinked at you in shock. He asked with great suspicion,

"How?"

He doesn't want to agree to any terms without understanding everything. You shook your head in disbelief. Is he really this distrustful? You've saved him several times tonight alone.

"I can heal injuries through lip-to-lip contact."

Jason paused to consider it. His muscles would be fine. Patrol ends soon anyway, but he files away that information. Do the others know about this magic, or was it a secret?

"I'll be fine. It's only a pulled muscle, dollface."

You shook your head, but part ways as patrol ended. He's so self-destructive it hurts to watch. You can feel his aching joints and muscles.

Jason stormed into the cave, ready for a fight. He felt awkward asking for a kiss for such a small injury, but if he could get all his siblings to fight him, then he'll earn the kiss.

"I need someone to punch me in the face."

Jason exclaimed into the full cave. Tim chuckled,

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Tim attempted to tackle Jason to the ground, which Jason lazily complied to. He made sure to let Tim know he's only allowing Tim to do this, not the other way around.

He had to physically resist his self-defence training and allowed Tim to punch him with Damian joining as soon as Tim finished. Tim always had unfinished business with Jason, so he is content with the small carnage he left.

Damian was a lot more feisty. He let Jason have his full, unadulterated rage like a fight dummy.

Imagine your surprise when Jason shows up at your apartment beaten and bloody. You gasped and ushered him inside.

"Okay, I'm absolutely kissing you. Pucker up, buttercup."

You lightly tugged him down via his bloody shirt and kissed him. The kiss felt lazy as each injury faded into nothingness. You even healed his joints and fixed his pulled arm muscle. You kissed him like the kiss meant more to you than just healing.

You kissed him even when all his injuries were healed and tangled your fingers through his hair to massage his scalp.

He groaned into the kiss and pulled you closer. He felt like he was gaining years of his life back. All the bones that never mended perfectly were set and fixed, his joints have never felt better, and his muscles no long ached. He kissed you like you are his sole lifeline.

You borderline drowned him in your magic. Your kiss was firm and insistent. Your lips were dancing to an unknown song, and you were content. Jason's warm body pulled you into a tight embrace. You had kissed him like it meant so much more to you, and that's when he knew.

He knew now how badly you wanted to kiss away his injuries and call him an idiot for thinking he could do more than he actually could after a long patrol. You want to kiss away the bullet and knife wounds every night. You want to be the one to hold him when he wakes up from nightmares. You want him.

He would have collapsed at the revelation if you weren't still holding his shirt. The years of scowling disdain were all a cover for a pining that lit up like a forest fire. He was filled with happiness for once. There was nothing weighing him down.

You and your nurturing lips will be his downfall.

Imagine: A Sanamancer!Magic!Reader x Batfam who can heal wounds through lip to lip contact <3

Sanamancy: A magic user whose magic is life and healing based.

———————

On patrol..

Jason: I think I pulled a muscle but I’ll be fine.

Sanamancer!Reader: Do you want me to heal you?

Jason: You can do that?

Sanamancer!Reader: Yes I can heal injuries through lip to lip contact :)

Jason: …don’t worry I only pulled a muscle

Sanamancer!Reader: Oh okay.

———————

Later

Jason: Punch me in the face now please.

Tim: You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.

———————

We need more magic!reader please <3

#jason todd x reader #magic reader #sanamancer #magic!reader #jason todd

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revelboo · 3 days ago

Note

Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?

Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not

Shoot Me In The Smile

Blaster x Reader

• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.

• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.

• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.

• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.

• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.

They’re not patient at all

#transformers x reader #IDW blaster #blaster x reader

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t-a-a-1 · 15 hours ago

Text

Counting Stars

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After a dangerous mission where you almost die, Optimus breaks up with you without knowing you are carrying his sparkling. It's not until seven months later that the universe allows you both to meet once again.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

Counting Stars

...

He almost lost you.

And yet he had to act like he didn't care.

It was to everyone's surprise when he announced that you will no longer be living at the base. It was simple. Due to inner conflicts, you won't be a part of Team Prime any longer.

No one believed it until you came to pick up your things and said your last goodbyes.

Optimus was nowhere to be found.

And no one dared to ask him why.

Only Optimus knows the reason.

He was well aware of his limits. Knowing that the moment he sees you, he would break down. Throw away his pride and ask you to stay forever with him. That he was a complete idiot to believe he could live a single day without you.

What an idiot he indeed is.

It's been a week and he can't do it. Primus, give him strength. He sees you everywhere. He smells you in the flowers, feels your touch in the wind, hears your voice in nature and sees you in the stars. How much he misses to taste your lips once more.

"One more day and I think you will go offline, old friend."

Out of embarrassment, Optimus tries to close the windows in the data-pad screen, he was too focused on looking at pictures of you to notice Ratchet walking close to him.

“What, um-” He keeps closing tabs, each one having a different picture of you. From different angles and expressions. Blurry and not. “What are you referring to, old friend?”

Ratchet doesn't know how to react to this. He has always been aware of Optimus' massive love for you. Of course he knew. Even more now that the bearer of the Matrix can’t seem to function properly without your presence.

Optimus keeps closing taps and Ratchet gets a glimpse of Orion Pax. Trying his best to hide the fact that he messed up.

From innocent pictures, more intimate ones appeared.

“Would you please close your optics?” There is some panic and concern in his voice. But also an authoritative tone to it. “I do not wish for you to see her the way I used to.”

Ratchet just turns around, giving Optimus enough privacy to conclude his activity.

“I had just wanted to check up on your well-being due to recent events. But I am afraid that you are in a worse state than I thought possible.”

He hears more clicking and typing before hearing a heavy ex-vent coming from the Autobot leader.

“You can turn around now.”

“Optimus, you can’t continue like this,” the robot medic takes a look at the screen again. It’s empty but the blue blush on Optimus’ face is still evident. “It’s only been a week. But have you truthly imagined what your life will be after living an eternity without (y/n)?”

Of course he doesn’t think about it. He might be an idiot but not entirely stupid. If he spirals and thinks too much about it he’ll probably lose all sense of responsibility and sanity. He can’t think about no longer being able to see the stars in your eyes. Of not longer hearing the sweetness of your voice or caressing the softness of your skin–

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” Optimus quickly stops thinking. “My fate is sealed and so is hers. Our paths shall never meet again.”

Knowing Optimus for such a long time, Ratchet knows when he is lying. Even he should be aware of how full of scrap that lie is. Still, he wishes to push it further and see for how long Optimus will keep it up.

“If you truthly think that way then delete all of those frames and we shall never speak of her again.”

Their optics met for a few seconds and the gentle look in Optimus’ optics let Ratchet know everything he needed. However, he wanted his friend to be the one to realize it. Some things have to be lived and pain is the best teacher.

“I … I-”

Looking back at the screen, there are no pictures of you. The thought of never seeing you again crosses his mind. He doesn’t have much to remember you by. You had taken all of your things. No longer can he phantom words to deny the truth.

“Why are you putting yourself through all of this pain, old friend? When you and I are aware that you cannot pass a second without thinking of her?”

It was late night at the hangar and all other Autobots had gone to recharge. It was only the two of them and no one dared to ask Optimus about past occurrences that included you.

“I told her … I wish I had never met her.”

Ratchet slowly opens his intake the moment the words slips Optimus’ glossa.

“Even if my spark wishes nothing more but to see her again … I am afraid I have severed the relationship beyond repay.”

There is a pause in which Ratchet wanted to comfort his friend, to say some words of encouragement but he doesn’t know if it will be good enough.

“If only you had seen her face, Ratchet … You would know. I have no right to ask for forgiveness.”

You are the strongest person he knows. He has yet to see you shed a tear, no amount of injuries have made you do so. But that night, between discussions and arguments, he saw your eyes become crystal. The only thing he could do was to look away. He knew he would break as well if he ever became the reason for your suffering.

Seven months passed.

Not a single word from you.

Sometimes, however, Optimus would hear Fowler speak about you. A simple ‘She’s doing fine’ and ‘She has made new friends.’

But that was enough to make him wonder about you. Your new life, friends, if you had found anyone who was of your interest.

“We need the Autobot assistance in transporting a highly classified product across the state.”

He finds himself enjoying putting his life in danger. To take on difficult missions so his mind can be occupied. For those moments he is free from the thoughts of you. Any other second he is busy indulging in his torment from your parting.

Apparently, MECH was extremely interested in this product and had plans to steal it from the CIA. It was the Autobots’ job to prevent that from happening.

The bots surrounded a black bulletproof truck. They weren’t allowed to look at what was inside which did not please them. If they were to protect something, they wanted to know what it was. However, Optimus gave it a one time pass. After all, Fowler has proved himself to be a trusted ally.

The first couple of miles went by easily. With no interruptions.

It wasn’t until it started to go dark that trouble appeared.

MECH had interjected the mission. Using every single gun, missile and bombs at their dispossession. Whatever that black truck was carrying, they wanted it no matter what.

“At this rate we are going to lose the target!”

Arcee screamed through her comm-link as she tried her best to take down as many helicopters as possible without hurting any human in the process. Pretty much against her will but orders were orders.

“These guys are really fighting it out!” Bulkhead was against a few tanks, he had stayed behind to keep them busy while the truck made an attempt to go out of sight. “Are we even sure this thing we are protecting is worth our lives?!”

Optimus was the one closest to the truck, keeping direct contact in case of a disaster.

“Optimus! We won’t be able to keep them away for long!”

Bumblebee chirped in morse code and the Autobot leader knew he had to do something.

He drives faster, facing the two officers that were driving the truck. Side to side, they look at the driverless vehicle.

“Open the trunk and I’ll take the cargo. We won’t be able to hold them for long. I’ll take the cargo somewhere safe while you serve as a distraction. If we don’t do this, you’ll lose it all.”

The military officers look at each other for a small second. Giving a knowing look, they knew what they had to do. They open up the trunk and Optimus slows his driving, taking a look, finally, at what’s inside.

The cargo is you.

He quickly transforms back to his robot mode. Running towards you. He extended a sevo, he wanted you to jump.

You were holding onto the walls of the truck as if your life depended on it. And it did. This was definitely not the encounter you were expecting after not seeing him for seven months. But now it wasn’t the moment to think about that. What happened between the two of you was over. But you still trusted Optimus Prime, the leader he has always been.

“Quickly!”

You run towards him and jump as the trunk is in fast motion. Your feet land on his servo and in less than a second, he transforms back to his vehicle mode. Now you sat safely in the passenger seat. Optimus moves out of the road and drives off into the forest. Getting lost into the massiveness of nature and tall pine trees.

No longer being able to hear chaos, Optimus assumed it was safe to talk.

“Would you care to explain your status and the reasoning to why you are being transported by the American military?”

You weren’t fond of his voice, much less how this conversation started.

“Not even a ‘how are you’ first? You really haven’t changed at all, Prime.”

You say as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Looking outside the window, you wished you were being chased again by MECH.

“Do not dare to call me by titles.”

There were times you called him by his last name. When you were angry and when the two of you were yet to form a relationship. He doesn’t like to reminisce about those times.

“Just let me out. I’ll walk.”

“But–”

“I said … I’ll walk.”

Optimus stops and opens the door for you. You hop out of his vehicle mode and start walking without anywhere in mind.

You put your hands in your oversize hoodie. The last thing you wanted was for him to take a deep look at you. Much less if he starts analyzing your body with stats.

“I don’t think you know where you are supposed to be located,” he says as he transforms back to his regular robot mode.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Optimus begins to panic as you start to walk away. This wasn’t how the reunion was supposed to be. He had dreamt of the next time he saw you. Maybe on a field of flowers and running towards each other. Ending it with an embrace and a passionate kiss.

“Would you listen to reason for once?”

He tries again to engage but he only makes himself sound rude without having those intentions.

“No.”

Would please look at him? It’s been seven months since he last saw you. He’s only seen your eyes through the pictures of his data-pad but they didn’t compare to seeing them in person–

“Why are you following me? I thought you didn’t care.”

You finally turn to look at him.

He can’t control his processor at your sight. Your hair was a nice mess, you were wearing clothes too big for you, maybe to hide the few pounds you gained during this time. Your cheeks were pinker and plumber. Dark circles under your eyes but skin glowing and those beautiful eyes that could put any star in the universe to shame.

Optimus stumbles on his pedes and almost falls on his knees, your beauty too distracting for any living being to be witness of.

“I .. I –”

He can’t believe you are talking to him. This was too soon and no words could leave his voice box as if had forgotten how to speak entirely.

He wanted to say it all. How much he missed you, how desperately he needed you. How there hasn’t been a single day he didn’t think about you. How everything reminded him of you. And how painful has it been every second you are not with him.

But before he could rant about his undying love for you, he sees a painful expression on your face. Followed by you, placing your arms around your belly and bending as if the cause of your physical pain was located in your stomach.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Just,” you take a moment to breathe as you slowly make your way towards a tree. “Just leave me alone.”

With sad and curious optics, he sees you put a hand on your stomach. Whispering comforting words. ‘It’s alright’ and ‘It’s ok’ you kept talking to yourself to make you believe those words.

“We’ll be safe.”

“I am going to run a quick analysis–”

“No,” you interrupt him again. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Optimus dislikes going against your wishes. But the way you are breathing heavily, your sweating and trembling doesn’t look like a good sign. He can manage to live without you if it guarantees that you can live a long happy life. But not the same can be said if your life is cut short for whatever reason.

“My apologies but my mission is to keep you safe and that’s exactly what I tend to do.”

“I am pregnant,” you had no other choice. “Thankfully, you are not the father.”

That was a lie but at least the shock will prevent and confuse him enough. If Optimus were to do an analysis on your body, he would find anomalies only a Cybertronian would know.

Finally getting the strength you need, you stand up and walk past Optimus whose face you did not dare to look. Your swollen belly still hurts but you didn’t want to worry him. The reason why you are not with him in the first place is because he thought of you as a liability. You no longer want to be seen as such.

“Who’s the father of the child?”

The question infuriated you. Of all the things he could have asked, he asks such a selfish question. He shouldn’t care and certainly you are tired of Optimus pretending he does.

“You know, on Earth, is customary to say ‘congratulations,” you turn to look at him.

A fatal mistake.

His optics reflected a grief unknown to you. The type you do not know nor wish to ever experience. Then there is a pain you recognize, that of a broken heart. You knew that feeling very well. He had been the one responsible for it after all. A part of you is happy to know that he is experiencing karma, that he is hopefully experiencing a fraction of the pain he made you go through.

But that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to inflect any type of suffering in him. Not now. Not ever.

“I am sorry.”

There wasn’t anything else you could say. You look down, disappointed at your own feelings.

“No. My apologies,” Optimus noticed your sudden change and he too feels unworthy to be of your presence. Having his ill feelings and jealousy overtake his processor instead of worrying about your well being. “I did not think it was possible for you to find a suitable partner with whom … to mate with … and so soon.”

“Well, humans do not live for long and we only have a few years until we are no longer able to ‘mate’”

You didn’t like using the word ‘mate’ . It made humans sound like animals but you used it so Optimus could be spoken to in terms he could understand.

“But do you have … feelings for this individual?”

“Yes,” you lied again, trying to see what you can get away with. “He is just and kind. Tall and handsome.”

Optimus puts a servo on his hip and looks to the other side. Not looking at anything in particular rather he didn’t want to show his evident discomfort.

“Yet it seems he is unable to do the most important duty … to protect you.”

“He is quite adequate, actually,” you tease him again. The Autobot leader might be a smart war tactician but is terrible at understanding hints. “He is the strongest and fierce when needed.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I have as well found someone else to keep my time occupied,” he stutters, unable to lie. “She’s strong, a good talker and a listener. Kind and has the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe.”

Now he was being too specific for your liking. What if he was telling the truth and he had indeed found someone else? You didn't know how not. After all, Optimus Prime was the most extraordinary being on Earth and probably in the entire universe.

All of your doubts and insecurities began to fill your heart. You were just a human, easily replaceable. But Optimus? There’s only one of him. You were insignificant compared to him. It has always been this way.

“Then I hope she is better than I ever was.”

You turn to keep walking into the woods with no destination whatsoever but you didn’t care.

“It seems we made the right choice to part ways.”

Optimus wouldn’t have it. He can’t phantom it and it’s probably selfish thinking. But he can’t understand how easily you can say that while there hasn’t been a single day he is not tormented by your absence. When every second of his life has been torture without you.

“Is that really how you feel?” His voice is indignant. Every circuit in his processor, begged him to hold you. To tell you how much he craves you and how unfair has life been. Taking you away only when you have become the most beautiful of beings. “After everything?”

“You have someone and I have someone,” you don’t turn around, putting a hand again on your stomach. Giving it a small rub and looking down at it. “And I am with a child as you can see and very happy.”

“A child that should have been born from our bond. I should have been the father of that sparkling, I-”

“You wished we had never met,” you whisper quietly but you know he can hear you. He always listened. “So please, stop talking like you care.”

“(Y/N)?”

He looks at you and notices your distraught. Your breathing has become slower.

“Are you alright?”

You fall but before your body could touch the ground, Optimus catches you on his servo. He studies you for a second. You have pink cheeks and breathing seems difficult. He doesn’t hesitate to use his comm-link.

“Ratchet, I request an immediate groundbridge.”

“Vitals are stable but I’ll stay alert tonight to watch over her.”

Ratchet was glad to have you back at the base although he wished it was in different circumstances. After a couple of hours, everyone went back to their private quarters. The only ones left were the medic and the leader of the autobots.

They watched over you as you slept soundly in the medical berth. Your vital signs displayed on the data-screen. Although everything seems fine, the two of them were known to overthink and worry.

“I waited for everyone to leave to tell you something of an extremely important matter.”

“What is it, old friend?”

“While doing some analyses in (Y/N)’s body, I distinguished an anomaly,” Ratchet clicks on keys and rapidly two sound frames appear. There are many lines, short and big, all close together. Together they create a different pattern from each other.

“(Y/N) appears to have two different heart beats. But, of course, that goes against human biology. So I did further testing.”

“I made a discovery. The second beat has a different frequency of that of a human heart,” the medic played the sound, Optimus recognized this as your heartbeat. “But this other one has the same frequency and energy as a spark.”

“I do not understand.”

Trying to be tactful was hard for Ratchet as it is. He didn’t want to downplay the situation either. It was a serious matter but he has to admit that not even himself can’t contain his exhilaration.

“Cybertron hasn’t had a single sparkling in centuries so coming to this conclusion took some time”

The medic ex-vents, somehow it helped with his tension. He has been alive for quite some time and yet he can’t remember the last time he helped bring a new life to Cybertron. It was all the culmination of his studies and practices. Maybe finally he will have a chance to create life instead of just curing it.

“After all, I had to look through some old archives and Human-Cybertronian hybrids is a first. But seeing that humans have the ability to create life and combining that with Cybertronian transmission genes … I believe I have a definite conclusion.”

Ratchet presses a key, making the data-screen play a distinct sound. A sound similar to static but a distinct rhythm could be heard. Gentle and soft. Pure.

“(Y/N) is carrying a sparkling.”

“By the AllSpark,” Optimus blinks multiple times as he always does when he is excited or perplexed about something. He looks at you. Your small fragile body. “How?”

“How are humans able to create life with a soul, conscious mind and a body?” Ratchet doesn’t know how to explain it, because even he can't fully understand how. “Primus may have heard our prayers and has blessed us with an opportunity to welcome a new life to our race.”

“Agent Fowler must have known this and MECH as well. That’s why they were so precautious when transporting her from one place to the other.”

Optimus made a mental note to ask Fowler about this and his reasoning as to why he wasn’t informed of such an important matter.

“If MECH lay hands on (Y/N) they would experiment on her and the sparkling as soon as it’s born,” Ratchet says as he walks towards you with a tender expression in his faceplace. “Half Human, half Cybertronian. This child will change everything.”

“Conceived from a son of Primus and a daughter of Unicron.”

The situation was out of legends and myths. The kind of thing that sounds impossible but maybe this little hope inside of you is what is needed to light up their darkest hour.

“And this may also explain your sudden urge to nest,” the medic’s voice is more light-hearted now. Having flashbacks of Optimus picking up random flowers, pretty rocks and good-looking metal to bring back to the base. When questioned about it, the leader of the Autobots simply responded that he had an urge to do so.

“I thought you were going crazy when you started to bring earthly materials to the base.”

“I thought so too.”

Optimus sees you sleep. He has the need to touch your swollen belly, to feel the growing spark within you. You have always been amazing, he knew that much. But he never thought you were capable of conceiving life like their own. What a beautiful sight. One he never thought possible. Now, it’s right in front of him. Hope. The complete personification of it, staring right at him.

“Will she be alright?”

“She’s stable but she definitely needs to be watched over. Her weakened state is due to the fact that the sparkling is taking too much of her energy,” Ratchet also has his optics on you. The happiest Optimus has ever seen. Knowing that there is hope for their race to continue to grow must be the first real sign of hope Ratchet has had since eons ago.

“Energon is mostly toxic to humans but the sparkling has created anti-mechs for (y/n)’s immune system to withstand it. We are going to have to start supplying her with energon if we wish for the sparkling to be born healthy.”

“And most importantly,” he takes a moment to look at his old friend. His optics now showed a more hostile gaze. “A sparkling needs the electromagnetic waves of a caregiver to copy growing behaviors.”

“She needs you, Optimus.”

It was the middle of the night when you woke up. You feel thirsty but need more than water. Your body has had strange cravings lately but you were not about to randomly drink energon just because the baby wanted to.

You knew this place too well. The smell of metal and bots was everywhere. The soft vans of the air conditioner are comforting. The orange light coming from Ratchet’s data screen illuminated the room enough for you not to be scared. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you missed this place. Even when you much preferred to be sleeping in the coach instead of the medical berth.

“Do you need something?”

Optimus came back from behind you. You shake your body and back away a few centimeters.

“My apologies, I did not want to scare you.”

He had mass-displaced. Still over 10 feet and really tall compared to any regular human. He tries to be delicate even when you know he is not fond of this form. Optimus had told you before that it was a bit uncomfortable for him. Of course, he never seemed to complain whenever he mass shifted to lay on your bed.

You look down and caress your stomach. It would be stupid to believe that Ratchet did not find out about your little secret and told Optimus about it.

“It’s alright.”

Awkwardly, he sits next to you. You thought he might be furious with you. For lying to him in the first place. But now you feel ashamed for a reason you can’t understand. The mere fact of deceiving Optimus Prime is an unpleasant experience.

“(Y/N) …”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” you don’t look at him. Instead, you look down at your feet and how they hang from the medical berth. “Don’t get angry at Fowler, please. I was the one who told him not to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you want to share such important information?”

“Because you said … You wished you had never met me,” you feel a knot forming on your throat. It hurts to speak, to even form thoughts and remember what happened seven months ago. His voice is still very present in your memories. The pain is still in your heart. “So I thought, you wouldn’t want our child either.”

Clenching his servo into a fist, Optimus fights the urge to hold you. You were so close, yet the only thing he can indulge himself with is your scent. It's different now. It was your smell combined with a new aroma. That of his sparkling.

“I have made many hard decisions in my life,” it was difficult for him to look at you. Now, he feels indignant to stand before you. You were to him what the gods were to their subjects. Devotion is not enough for him to satisfy his service to you.

“But the hardest decision was to let you go and I did it because I was scared. Even now, I doubt myself. Maybe you’ll be safer somewhere else. Away from me, away from all of this,”

Reminiscing about the past is painful to him. Most memories of you are lovely, unforgettable. But that time seven months ago when the Decepticons had captured you. The screams, the terror in your face, Megatron ordering you to tell him how scared you were. How he couldn’t do anything. Helpless. Pathetic.

And for a small second. For a fraction he really believed he had lost you. That was enough for him to know he won’t function without you.

“If something were to happen to you … I won’t be able to … I can’t-”

He feels his entire core shake. His servos trembling as they remember holding your almost lifeless body.

“I am sorry,” his voice glitches. “I said unforgivable things with hopes that they would push you away. To protect you. I can live with you hating me but I cannot envision the day the universe takes your soul from me.”

May Primus have mercy on his spark. May he forgive him but Optimus would throw everything away just to hold you. Just for his words to reach your heart. To feel your touch once again.

“But I was a fool to believe I could stay away from you. To think that my restraint was as strong as my morals.”

There is silence and although he doesn’t dare to look at you, he can feel your presence. For now it was enough to have you next to him.

“You may not believe in my words but believe this; the only good thing this fool has ever done is love you. It's the only thing … the only decision I have no doubts about.”

Suddenly, softness meets his faceplate. Immediately, his optics were on the blink of releasing energon. With a simple touch, you had healed him. A part of his spark that felt empty was full again. The meaning to his life was restored.

“Do you even know how much I missed you?”

You ask him with a gentle voice. Caressing every sense of his audials, engraving them in his processor. To forever remain in the deepest part of his mind.

He can’t even begin to tell you what he truly feels. He had given up. Come to realize that no words, no language in the present, past nor future could ever be vast enough to express the love he has for you.

Optimus could try with his actions. That may not be enough either. But he will have all of eternity to make for it.

“Everyday after you left, I would go to the rooftop on the base and I would count each star in the sky,” he puts a servo on top of your hand and his dermas brush against your skin, a small kiss. “To try and relieve the nights I would count the stars in your eyes.”

You didn’t say anything. Whenever it came to talking, Optimus was always more proficient. You never felt the need to say something either, he always knew what you meant. What you were feeling. Words were not necessary. Not when he can read your eyes so easily.

“And not even the timeless company of the entire universe could compare to one second with you.”

That night, you rested in his chassis. Missing your warmth, he embraced you. Your stomach pressed lightly against him. This experience was something new to him and he was terrified of it. Afraid he won’t be good enough to be a partner or a father. But as long as you were with him, the impossible became possible. So maybe becoming someone worthy of a sparkling could also be feasible.

Optimus will try his very best. For you, for the sparkling. For himself. Failing it's not an option and being a father was a greater honor than being a Prime. A title he would give up if only you would ask him. Of course, you will never ask him such a thing. He knew you better than that.

Optimus believes in Primus, fully. But he is thankful to whatever gods created you. If he could and knew how, he would pray and thank them.

He now has another chance. Another opportunity. To give you what he has been collecting.

Maybe tomorrow he will give you all the dandelions he found for you.

A/N: Sorry for the late Christmas post. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years I hope y’all enjoyed this. As always, for any questions, comments, concerns or prompt ideas you can send me an inbox. For all the love and support … Thank you! See you next year!

138 notes · View notes

nick-knackwrites · 3 days ago

Text

💜 Levi Week Day 2 💜

Hello! This is my official debut 😮 and submission for Levi Week Day 2: Proposal @levievent

Pairing: Postwar!Levi x f!reader

Wk: 2.5k

No warnings - just fluff 💚

Your hands shake as the nurse leads you to a room tucked away on the far left end of the hallway. Deep breaths do little to quell your nerves as you consider the time and distance between you and the man waiting on the other side of the heavy wooden door. .

Eleven months. Eleven months and an entire war.

A lot has changed for you in that time and you weren't even involved in the struggle against Eren Yeager and his genocidal plan. You can't imagine how things have changed for Levi. How his feelings may have changed. The thought makes the knot in your stomach tighter, squeezing oppressively. Your own feelings certainly haven't changed an iota and you know they never will, regardless of the thoughts of the object of them.

Your mild panic is cut short when the nurse knocks and opens the door and you get a view of the man you love for the first time in eleven long months.

He is sitting in a wheelchair facing away from the door and toward the large window at the far side of the room. A tray loaded with a teapot and cups rests on a small table in front of and slightly to his right and you smile at the familiar sight of a cup of the steaming liquid in his hands.

“Mr. Ackerman? You have a visitor.” The nurse squeezes your shoulder before leaving the room.

In front of you, still staring out at the park across the street, Levi scoffs and you can perfectly imagine the eyeroll that you are sure accompanies it. “You can tell Onyonkapon that he doesn't have to babysit me. I can wipe my own ass just fine.”

You begin the slow walk around the bed to the empty armchair next to him. “Oh well that's good to hear. I'll be sure to pass the message along to Onyonkapon next time I see him.”

Levi's head snaps up and over at the sound of your voice and the eye that isn't covered in bandages widens. Your name escapes his mouth in a short, surprised breath. “I thought. . .”

“That I was Onyonkapon?” You tease.

His face twists, “That you were dead.”

“Oh.” You collapse into the chair less gracefully than you had hoped and look over at him, taking in just how much he had lost. Bandages plaster his face from his right eye across his lips and down to his chin. His left cheek bears scars and two fingers are missing from his right hand. His left knee is set in a cast. These physical maladies are disheartening enough to see on their own but you know that emotional and mental scars lie hidden under the surface too. Though there is something visual to those as well. His shoulders hang heavy and his eyes are dull and tired. You can't even begin to fathom the emotional pain and overwhelming loss he must be handling but you want to try to help him shoulder it. You take a deep breath, “Well of course I'm not dead. It would take more than a little rumbling to take me out. I was trained by Humanity's Strongest Soldier after all.”

Levi's eyebrows (well, the one you can see anyway) rise and he watches you from the corner of his eye. “Is that right?”

“Not trained-trained but you know, he taught me some self defense and stuff.”

His voice is deadpan, “And this self defense was meant to keep you safe from titans.”

“No, I think he knew that there wasn't much I could do if I ever faced a titan. That was his territory. That's why he left me behind - so he could take care of the titans and keep me out of their hands. But he taught me self defense to keep me safe from everything else while he was gone.”

Levi's eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall below the window and his jaw is tight as he asks, “And do you resent him? For leaving you behind?”

“I don't think I could resent him if I tried. Besides, he was Humanity's Strongest after all. I knew he could never fully be mine as long as humanity needed him. I understood and accepted that long before I realized I love him.”

The tips of his ears are pink now and you can almost see his pulse thrumming in his throat but he swallows hard and gives another of his infamous scoffs before saying, “Humanity's Strongest? What a ridiculous name. Man's gotta be an arrogant ass to use it.”

“Yeah I thought so too at first.” Levi finally glances toward you, more out of shock than anything else. His face softens as you continue, “But then I got to know him. I saw how deeply he cared about his fellow soldiers, how earnestly he wanted to help the world, and how soft and gentle he could be with those he loved. He was physically strong, yeah. His battle prowess was unmatched. But I think a lot of his true strength came from his grit and his compassion.”

“Yeah well.” Levi knocks an angry fist against his bad leg, “A lot of good all that physical strength did him. I hear he's pretty useless and pathetic now.”

“I haven't heard that at all. People still greatly admire him. And the man I knew didn't care what other people thought of him anyway. He was above it all.”

“He cares what one person thinks.” He looks directly at you for the first time and you feel your blood rush to your face, heart rate picking up. “He wanted to protect her and provide for her. But he was only ever good at being a weapon and now that he can't even do that, he's not sure what he can offer her.”

Dampness graces your cheeks and you realize that Levi's words had made you cry. You swallow thickly and speak through the tears slowly gliding down the contours of your face. “I'm sure he'll figure it out. And I'm sure she doesn't agree that he's useless or pathetic at all.”

“I just. . . . I worry that she deserves better. Better than a physically and emotionally beaten man.”

“Again I'm sure she disagrees. And deserve and want are two different things. And-” your voice breaks, nervous that your next statement is too presumptuous. “And if he feels so strongly for her, wouldn’t he think that she deserves to have what she wants? So, if she wants him, wouldn’t she deserve to have him?

“And if he's not good for her? If he’s a burden?”

Exasperation quickly replaces your sorrow over the words being said, “Will you please stop being so insulting? You're talking about my fiance, you know.”

A soft wheeze erupts from Levi's chest and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “I wasn't aware Humanity's Strongest Soldier was engaged.”

You feel your face flush and suddenly feel the urge to look away. You stare at his shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Okay so he's not engaged yet but-”

“Not yet?” Amusement flushes his features and a spark lights in his eyes.

You take a deep breath. “No, because I haven't asked him to marry me yet.”

“But you plan to?”

“Yes.” Your voice is stronger and more certain than it has been this whole conversation and you are finally able to meet his eyes again.

A smile stretches across his marred lips. “Well you better get a move on then.”

Wordlessly you slide down to the floor and shift until you are kneeling directly in front of him. Your stomach flutters until you meet his gaze once more, unwavering and sure and so warm despite their cool coloring. You find that you can no longer feel nervous and the force of the joy that overtakes you causes the tears to spill from your eyes like a river. You ignore them and reach for Levi's right hand with both of your own. His brow furrows as he studies you but you ignore that too. “Levi, you are-”

“No.”

“No?” Your voice comes out smaller than you intended and your distress must be written all over your face because Levi immediately course-corrects.

“Not no to your proposal, just no to this.” He gestures broadly at you. “We're equals. We should be equals. I don't want you kneeling before me like you're somehow less than me.” The hand trapped between yours tugs upwards. “Just get up here. Please.”

You stand and begin to turn towards your previously abandoned chair but Levi has other plans. His hands grip your waist firmly and gently force you down onto his lap. In your surprise, you nearly smash your skull against his forehead but you catch yourself in time and settle carefully - so as not to press against his cast - with your hands on his shoulders and your legs splayed over either thigh. The position is intimate and cozy and eliminates almost all space between you and the loving gleam in his eyes. “Better,” he says and you were sure his voice is rougher than it had been. “Now, please do proceed.”

“Oh.” You know you need to say something but you can feel his fingers softly kneading into the small of your back, and feel his breath across your cheeks, and you are finding it incredibly difficult to string any kind of coherent thought together. “I. . . I had this whole speech prepared but I can't seem to remember any of it now.” A breathless laugh escapes you and Levi's eyes soften. His good hand moves to cup your face tenderly.

“I just really love you.” You finally manage to blurt out. “I love you more than I have words to express and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And whatever comes after that.” it is like a dam burst and the words are falling from your mouth faster. “I know we've been separated for a while now but I never once stopped loving you and missing you and I can't bear the thought of missing you any longer. I don't care where we go or what we do - I just want to be with you. If you'll have me.” A nervous laugh slips between your suddenly dry lips when there is no immediate response. “I'm sorry this is so messy and backwards.” You’re rambling now. Nerves taking over. “I don't even have a ring to offer you and I -”

“I have one.”

“. . . Pardon?”

“Left breast pocket of my jacket on the hook by the door.”

Your mouth hangs open like a fish and you blink once, twice, three times before Levi sighs and says, “Are you deaf or just stupid?” The words are harsh but his tone is soft as is the look in his eye and the subtle upwards curve on the left corner of his mouth. “Left breast pocket. Uniform jacket. By the door.” He softly pats the side of your thigh, dangerously close to your rear, encouraging you to get a move on.

You do. Your legs are wobbling and your head is spinning but you manage to make your way over to his jacket where you plunge your hand into the indicated pocket to find two rings. When you pull them out you discover that they are nearly identical. Two perfect simple silver bands but one is thinner with a small diamond set in the center. They’re perfect and you spend so long looking at them that Levi eventually has to pull you back to reality.

“I can’t imagine you got lost in the folds of my jacket.”

You stumble back to him, dazed and so so in love, never taking your eyes off of the rings once. When you get close enough, Levi pulls you into his lap once more. You’re sure he’s looking at you, waiting for some kind of response but you can’t look away from the solid symbol of this incredible man’s love for you.

“How long?” You whisper it and worry for a moment that he won’t know what you mean.

But he does. Of course he does. “I bought them before the Scouts left for Marley. Before I. . . Before I left you.” There is heartbreak in his tone but you find that your own heart is soring.

“You knew even that far back?”

Levi sighs your name and gently cups your jaw once more. “I think, deep down, I knew from the moment I met you. I was just too stubborn and stupid to figure it out sooner. Part of my soul always craved you” He pauses, searching your eyes. “It’s part of the reason I left you behind. It was dangerous and I couldn’t bear the thought of you being harmed. I thought you’d be safer. I was wrong. Forgive me”

“Oh Levi,” You cup his jaw on the opposite side that his hand rests on your own face and press your forehead against his. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“You’re too good to me.” His voice is low and almost husky and it makes you shiver a little in his arms.

You smile, “Well, it seems I’ve finally found something I can best you in: Being good to you. For you are far too hard on yourself.”

“I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life losing to you.”

“You better put that ring on my finger then.”

You lean in to kiss him but he pulls back just enough to look in your eyes properly. “No can do.” He smirks at the outrage creeping on your face.”You never asked me, you see.”

You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off. “You said wonderful, amazing things that I am going to dream about for the rest of my life, sure. But you never did actually ask the question. “

You roll your eyes and lean in once more, placing one hand on the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and the other on his injured cheek. “Levi Ackerman, you are the love of my life and the source of my joy. You are everything I ever wanted and I could never imagine that I would get to have you. I want to give my life to you and spend all of my days by your side. Will you please -”

You're cut off by Levi pressing his lips to yours. He kisses you fervently, almost desperately and you laugh into the kiss pulling away after several seconds. His lips follow you, dotting over your cheeks, nose, and jaw. “You didn’t let me finish!” You protest between your giggles.

Levi ceases his barrage of affection and holds your face between two hands. “Yes.” He says simply, and then he kisses you again, sending your heart racing and your mind melting.

You’re so lost in the softness of his lips and eager probing of his tongue that you don’t notice when he pulls one hand away from your face to pluck one abandoned ring off of your lap. You’re still too elated and dizzy from the deep kiss to notice when he grabs your left hand and slips the ring on your fourth finger but once you manage to pull yourself away from him after several long minutes, you realize that the weight now on your finger feels natural, comfortable, perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just like the man beneath you and the life you will build with him.

#posting this is terrifying so please be gentle with me 😅#leviweek24 #day 2 #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #levievent

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rootspiral · 1 day ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3])

the river flowing. mushrooms and lichens growing from a fallen tree. nicky's other mom is always with them.

agatha clearly loves teaching nicky all she knows about magic, because she is a teacher at heart! and he's literally the first person she gets to pass her knowledge on to, she's relishing every minute of it.

meanwhile poor nicky is just hungry. because the fucker makes him live in the woods.

and I guess she finds it easier to be honest when it's about explaining how magic works.

oh no the way they're whispering is so cute??? and she'll keep calling it her purple long after nicky's death.

and this has been pointed out many times, but when nicky smiles you're sure reminded of how they went out of their way to find a kid who looked like aubrey plaza too

another thing that has been pointed out ad nauseam and it will be repeated again, because it's so good: I cannot heal you, like jen would. I cannot protect you, like alice would. and I cannot divine, like lilia would.

could a real coven have healed nicky, protected him, saved him from his fate? did she kill him sooner than necessary by keeping him cold and starving in the woods? agatha will never know, because despite all her love, she put her own fear over his safety. maybe nicky would have died anyway, but it's still cruel and unfair that he had to spend the little time he had on earth in such a lonely way.

agatha, despite all the mind tricks she plays on herself and on others, is simply too smart to not see that what she's doing is selfish, harmful to nicky, and ultimately futile. this is why she'd rather blame rio, and it's why she can't go to nicky in the afterlife: she can't face her own guilt.

(also, she's afraid she'll find a version of him that can now understand what she did and will hate her for it.) (and I imagine that a grown up nicholas would have had a hard time coming to terms with his childhood too.)

and still. and still. this whole mess of a person doing a terrible job at raising her son? she's also the daughter of an abusive mother who is trying to be better, she is trying to give him what she never had - love, support, knowledge. her selfish choices don't negate all the love and joy she gave him too.

and on top of everything else, nicky is about to freaking die! in modern times we'd say he has a terminal illness, she doesn't know how much time she has left with him. that is an impossible lot to navigate, especially for a person alone and carrying with her so much baggage and trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. keeping nicky so isolated is the only way she feels like she has an illusion of control over the inevitable.

agatha is not only denying nicky a coven, she's denying herself a community that would have helped her carry this burden, that would have taught and encouraged her to do better, that would have ultimately shared her pain in mourning. isn't that another tragedy within the tragedy? knowing what could have been?

agatha teaches him magic, even though he doesn't have any. maybe he was still too young, maybe he really was just a regular kid. still, she teaches him.

NOT THE DANDELION. i'm about to bite my screen in anguish

sure, sure, the time has come to go. I'm fine, I'm totally fine.

aaaaaand some more scamming!!!

agatha the ham is one of my favorite agathas. but wait, I'll make you sad again now! they're doing this shit because they don't have any money to eat. and nicky is clearly sick, and agatha is still making him do it. because they don't have any money to eat.

meanwhile witches everywhere are getting curious about the Ballad. (doesn't she look a bit like sadie sink?)

for the THIRD TIME a witch notices nicky coughing / how sick he is and offers her coven's help.

nicky looks agatha straight in the eyes and refuses to lure witches to their deaths. he stands up for himself. he disobeys.

and yes, the obvious double meaning: my other mother needs me home.

agatha forgets all her scheming and runs after him in a panic. she is losing control over him. she is losing him.

go to episode 9 part 4

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #nicholas scratch #character analysis #next one isn't going to be easy for sure :/

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missbuckyhellfire · 2 days ago

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Cat And Mouse :Emperor Geta (1/?)

Warnings: MANIPULATION (Both ways), The Emperor twins being themselves, Smut, NSFW content, heavy dub/con , Forceful fingering, Flirting, Unwanted advances, some language, heavy drinking, Oral, humping, hair pulling, Long piece (10,000 words!). Message me if I missed anything, Minors Be Gone!

Translations:

Mia Combina: My beloved

Mel: Honey

Hello Everyone! I know I had said it was going to be a One-shot and this is a long piece. However, I feel that it could be completed as a mini series or maybe with a second part. This piece could be a standalone as well, but I feel that it may be left too open ended for some. Also, I love their dynamic so I am wanting to write more. I will post a poll below for people to vote. If the deadline passes, comments in the piece would be appreciated. Miss.BuckyHellfire

The great General of Rome has returned to “celebrate” his victories with the city. Or at least that’s how the twin emperors seen it. The reality was much more concerning for the brothers.

For the past few months, a rider with a black horse would rob from the rich and give their spoils of their crimes to the poor. The citizens of Rome supported the rider and would refuse to say anything about them to the officials or even the emperors. In which unfortunately would cost them their lives. They were on their wits end as they wanted to end this once and for all.

The real reason, the one that the brothers wanted to keep to themselves was that they wanted the General to hunt this thief down and bring them to a prison cell where the emperors would take care of them personally.

However, the night before, the rider tried to strike their own home in Palatine Hill. Unfortunately, Emperor Geta was awake and clothed, unlike his brother in a pile of concubines. He seen the figure rush to the door and viewed how the cloaked rider would take down each of his guards with such grace.

The rider was a trained swordsman. This caused great fear in Geta as he panicked and grabbed his own blade by his night stand. He was going to fight them to save his gold. He wasn’t just going to be robbed like the rest of the people before him.

However, by the time he arrived, the rider was gone, only with a trail of blood to take him to General Acacius’s home. Geta, only in a robe, knew what he had to do.

When the General had arrived to greet the emperors the next morning, Geta had personally invited him and his entire family to join for a great feast at Palatine Hill. He wanted to get answers and he knew he was slowly closing in on his prey.

************************************************************************

“Brother what are you looking at?”

“Nothing Carcalla”

That was a lie. The taller emperor had glanced around the room as he sipped from his wine glass. Throughout the crowd of his concubines, soldiers, nobles, and servants, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. The young woman that was with General Acacius. No matter how much he tried to wonder his eyes around, he couldn’t help but make eye contact with her over and over again.repeatedly.

A young woman, with dark hair and fair skin. Gold eyeliner was pained on her eyelids that covered her warm but light brown eyes. Her gold lips formed into a smile as she talked to a few guests eager to get a few moments of her time. The people of Rome were like servants at her feet, wanting to talk to her and listen to her sweet voice. Without saying another word, Geta separated himself from his brother and walked over to the growing crowd . The crowd had separated and allowed Geta to pass through to meet with the woman. The general was less than pleased as he placed his arms around her. Geta immediately had chuckled to himself before he spoke.

“Guess I can see why your father hid you, so you wouldn’t get touched as his finest treasure.” He took her hand and kissed it gently. The general’s eyes never left his. “Where’s your wife General?”

“This is my daughter Sabina”. Sabina, this is Emperor Geta.” The general forced a small smile and tried to hide a growl as he heard Geta repeat his daughters name to himself. “She has fallen ill and unable to come today and she sends her regards.”

The emperor took in Sabina’s stola: a vibrant blue with gold accents. Her dark hair was pulled up wearing golden hoops. He seen nothing but innocence in her warm but light brown eyes. He glanced down to her lips as they trembled, intimated by his presence. He took in the oils she wore, they were sweet, the right amount of sweetness that could lead any man to start a war. He did find it odd that the general’s wife wasn’t able to come, but didn’t want to pry just yet, not when he had the opportunity to talk to the general’s daughter.

“Come Sabina, sit with me” Geta had ushered her to go. The general paused and refused to move his hands. He had known Geta long enough that this would just be a simple game for him. He would use his daughter to get closer to him and gods knows what. He was his general already what else would he want from him.

He smirked at the general “you don’t trust me with your greatest gem? I promise to take care of her general.” He pushed the general’s hands off of Sabina and took her to sit down with him.

Sabina’s first instinct was to sit by one of his other concubines out of respect. Her father’s grand speech echoed throughout her head as she had turned around and sat next to a barely clothed concubine. Her father was firm, but kind.

“Before we go in, I want you to know that the Emperors are very persuasive and manipulative they will want to find everything out about you. They are like the gods themselves, but much worse. Promise me, if your called, you keep your mouth shut, keep your secret.”

“I’ll try my best.”

After a few moments, Geta turned to her then shook his head “This wont do.”

“What wont Emperor?” Sabina wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He was not too keen about whatever it was due to his narrowing of his eyebrows. Geta didn’t think a gem like her should be with a bunch of other slaves and toys.

“Come sit with me here.” Geta had patted on his leg. His brother took immediate notice of his actions and leant over to his brother.

“Brother, you can’t be serious”

“Deadly, brother, deadly. Come on Sabina” He patted on his leg again. Not thinking she had much of a choice, she had plopped on his lap and he smirked. He took in her scent again as he chuckled. Now all eyes were on the Emperor, including the General who started to feel a sense of guilt. The concubine had passed a tray of grapes and cheeses to Sabina. She had looked at them for a second taking in the sweet smell of the grapes and cheeses. It was a treat to get this food when it came around.

“Don’t be shy mel, feed me.” Geta, like a snake, wrapped his arms around her as she grabbed the plate and pricked a grape from the platter. His brown eyes watched her as she waited for him to open his mouth. He did nothing of the sort and only mumbled a “tease me”. She had placed the grape on his lips and began to graze the fruit around his lips until he would open his mouth and she plopped it in. He chewed it and swallowed. “give me another Sabina.”

She listened, and gave him each grape until the very last one on a frail branch. He took the small grape into his hands and grazed it against her lips and watched them quiver a bit.

"Open up"

Sabina opened her mouth and he plopped it inside. Snickering, he placed his hands around her neck gently so he could feel her swallow the fruit. She swallowed gently, but Geta found it absolutely fascinating feeling her throat muscles move.

He turned and grabbed his glass of red wine, only half full now. He snickered and pressed the glass against her lips as his grin kept getting wider.

She parted her lips again as he let go of her neck, but refused to let his eyes off of it. He was going to start asking questions, eventually.

He gently tipped the glass so the sweet fluid would enter her mouth. Sabina took every last drop in the cup, with the feeling of the emperors hands in her hair. His hands were soft and gentle, only when he wanted them to be.

Sabina, the fluid was so sweet and intoxicating. She never had a fluid so tasty in her life. She wanted more until it was gone, which had left her with a bit of guilt and curiosity on what the emperor would do next. Geta shook his head. He was impressed how fast it went down, but now he has an idea.

************************************************************************

4 empty glasses were by the emperors chair. None were drunk by the emperor. Sabina thought she could handle a few, but the wine was rather intoxicating. She looked messed up, her hair was messy and her stola's sleeve was loosely over her shoulder as she would let out soft giggles from the affects of the wine. In return Geta would laugh in return. Carcalla watched the entire scene happening, but wasn't too sure what his brother's intentions were with the Generals daughter. Geta did have a collection of concubines to please him but Sabina seems to take a different effect on him.

Geta took in the sight of Sabina, vulnerable and possibly with a loosened tongue. If she wasn't a general's daughter, he would have offered her to be a concubine. Yet, he needed answers.

"So Sabina" he snaked his arms around her tightly, close enough for her to smell his body. "I'm sure your familiar with the rider that's been stealing in Rome."

Sabina closes her eyes for a moment then opens them to meet the eyes of her father from the other end of the room. Panicked, he mouths the words "lie".

She turns to the emperors dark intimidating eyes as he watched every feature of her, seeing if there's something that could be read from her.

"Yes Emperor, I heard tales of the rider who killed some of the emperors men and tried to steal from them. They steal from the rich and give to the poor, what of them?" Sabina looked down as Geta's lips twitched a bit from their response.

The palace didn't give message to the people about the supposed break in. So she knew someone who would do such a thing and would tell her. He began to rub her back a bit and tried to become more soft in his voice.

“Yes, it’s a tragedy, I ran out of my house as soon as I heard the commotion. I was ready to swing my blade at him.” Geta leant to her ear and moved his hands to her shoulders in hopes to ease some sort of confession out of her. Yet before she could speak, the general came to Geta, who was rather distracted.

“ I wish to bring my daughter Sabina home and I will meet you at nightfall to discuss the matters of the thief” His eyes glanced at the glasses and his daughter, who seemed to be feeling the affects of the wine.

Geta paused for a moment and glanced at Sabina. He didn’t want to let her go just yet. “Nonsense, I wish to have her as a guest for a couple nights in the finest suite of my palace. Your wife and yourself are invited as well, but I may be rather distracted by your daughter.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. People will talk and…”

“Does it look like I care, I am a emperor of Rome, you listen to me, my wish wasn’t a request” Geta shut him off as Carcalla let out a soft chuckle in response . The general nodded and muttered “ My wife is ill so it will be just you and my daughter. I will visit to discuss the matter you wish to talk to me about.”

The emperor clapped his hands together “Perfect! You don’t need to worry about us at all I will take good care of her.”

************************************************************************

To Sabina, this was only part of the job.

First was to lure him in by making herself seem like the perfect servant to the elder brother. He seemed like the more sane, more power hungry and calmer one. He was the logical one in the two but of course was still a threat.

She regretted letting it slip about her past endeavors at Palatine Hill. She knew that she shouldn’t have spoken out about it and has put her family in danger.

Regardless, Geta had ushered the guests out quickly after exchanging some private matters with her father. No surprise that Sabina assumed he was asking him to take the legendary thief down. Little does he know that the general knows of his daughters adventures and wouldn’t dream of ending it by turning her in. He was the one who supports her anyways.

Carcalla had turned to her during the exchange of words and chuckled. “Don’t get too attached to this lifestyle your going to go back home as soon as Geta is finished with you”

“I am here to serve the emperor and will return home when he sees fit.” It was such a kiss ass attitude but she needed to get on both of their good side if she was to go venturing in the palace on her own.

“Such a fuckin toy, you will fit right in during your stay” The younger emperor shook his head.

Sabina tilted her head at him, toying with him back. “Toy? I don’t understand, my father spoke very rarely on those subject matters.”

Carcalla stood up from the throne and glued his blue eyes with her brown ones. “Don’t toy with me girl. I know your type, your invitation to join our family will be declined soon enough. My brother will come to his senses, you may be nothing more than a concubine to him.” He spat at her.

She hid the smile with a frown and a nod of the head. “ I can promise you that I’m not who you thought I am.” She was so close, she just needed to play along a bit longer and the jewels will be hers.

“We will see about that.” He muttered as he looked down to his feet as Geta returned and waved the general off. Sabina’s father gave one last look to her before he left through the doors. Sabina stood up and Geta wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind, taking in her scent from her hair.

“I’m going to show our guest their room for the next few days. You are welcome to join us.” Geta’s tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, it didn’t sound like he wanted to have his younger brother to join them. Carcalla had mumbled a “No.” before Geta had took a step back and took Sabina’s hand and lead her down the hall.

************************************************************************

Sabina admired the room Geta had granted her by the doorway with him by her side. He watched her intently as she took in the sight of her room.

He kept stating he knew it wasn’t much, but Sabina knew that it was a lie. He knew this was the nicest room that she was ever given. She was admiring the silky bedsheets and lovely balcony with the perfect view of the sunset. The sweet smells of lemon oils had flared the room as well.

However, her eyes grew large at the bucket of swords that were placed in her chambers. Geta meant to have those removed as he didn’t think it was right for a lady to be so close to blades, as it may hurt her. Geta’s eyebrows furrowed as she was walking towards the barrel and picked up a silver blade with fine rubies engraved on them. She knew she was going to take this blade home when this is all over. Geta, shocked and walked over to her and took her hand with the blade on it.

“Do you think this is lady like to be handling blades like this?” Geta tilted his head, his eyes expressing concern, but demanding she drop the blade.

“My father is the general, he taught me how to use blades.” Sabina rolls her eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Geta blinks twice. “ I don’t blame your father for training you to use blades, but your under my wing now. I am sure that your father would appreciate you being of sound mind here.” He snaps his fingers and two guards take the blades away, while Geta yanks the blade from her hand. Before the last blade leaves, he takes one : a gold blade with diamonds engraved into it. He pauses for a moment then sighs, seeing the shock in Sabina’s eyes.

“If you are to find a husband in Rome, you will need to learn to submit. I am sure that your father taught you that.” Geta leans down to her ear in a whisper. He places the sharp weapon on her shoulder as the blades leaves a small cut on her. She doesn’t move as she stays firm in place. “Remember your place, and to not keep secrets from your emperors.”

Sabina nods in the comment as he moves the blade closer to her neck. He tilts his head, watching her throat bob in response. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but he says nothing. He only admires her beauty in the moment.

“So tell me, what do you really know about this thief? You seem to know more than you lead on.” His eyes moves to her light brown eyes checking for any sense of vulnerability or weakness or any hint of the thief’s identity. To him, a woman knowing how to fight well was odd, she was the only swords woman that he known.

Sabina, trying to hide her identity looks into his eyes and gets lost for a second. Why did he look so good but done the wrong things? She had to make up some sort of story fast or else Geta’s kindness may not last long. “ I met him a few months ago.”

The blade was pushed harder against her neck. “Elaborate.” His voice turned into a growl.

“I, uh- met him by a cart by the Colosseum. He was talking about a recent adventure to the locals and I decided to listen in to hear more about it. He and I didn’t really talk about things but he was ambitious.”

His gaze softened a bit “Did you see a glimpse of his face?”

“No, he was wearing a cloak.”

Silence swallowed the room for a second then Geta dropped the blade to the ground. He examined Sabina’s face, he only seen fear in it. However, he thought it was his approach to it. Something told him that there was more to be shared about this but he decided to not pry for now. The emperor admired her for a moment before grabbing her chin. Both of their eyes were glued onto each other for a moment. Brown eyes looking upon to brown eyes. One pair firm with determination to keep her secret while the other pair wanted to expose it.

“Your welcome to stay here for as long as you need to.” He muttered as he placed his soft lips onto her own. He paused for a moment, taking in the taste of her lips. Sabina took in the taste of wine on his lips as well. Geta mumbled something about taking her for a feast later and flashed a smile at her before leaving.

Sabina noticed that Geta forgot to bring the blade with him. However, she was in shock with the emperors actions and determination to figure out her secret. If the kiss was part of the plan or not, she doesn’t care. But she can admit he was a good kisser.

Venus, she needs help.

************************************************************************

Geta met with his brother immediately afterwords to share information about his encounter with Sabina and the information about the thief that they are trying to hunt down.

They were both in Carcalla’s chambers alone as he was explaining his suspicions on Sabina.

“I think there’s more to what she is saying. She is a swordswoman after all, only the insane women are trained with a blade.” Carcalla mumbled.

“Remember brother her father is the general, he may have wanted to keep her safe. Eve though one day she will likely be married off.” Geta paused for a moment trying to understand the general’s logic. “Do we know who Sabina’s mother was? “

Carcalla shrugged. “Words go around that he fucked a goddess when he was a young soldier. Would make sense for her beauty, but I think it may be a common whore after too much drinking.”

Geta took in Carcalla’s words in for a moment. How the people would gravel at their feet for Sabina. Her kind smile and skills in swordsmanship. Her overall alluring appearance and personality. It would make sense, but just this alone wouldn’t be enough proof. He knew that he wanted her, even though she does appear stubborn in her own ways.

“How would you feel a alignment with the general brother.” Geta looked at his wine glass for a moment then looked back at him.

Carcalla laughed at him. “You can’t be serious about this brother; I am not going to marry that woman!”

“No, you don’t have to, because I want to.” Geta looked at one of his guards. “Send word out in the morning for the audience of the general.”

“You were suspicious about them now you want to marry the girl? I don’t understand you brother.”

“No,no. She is beautiful and will give me lovely children yes. But it will keep him close until she finally speaks the truth. Maybe more seduction is needed tonight.”

Carcalla nods with the plan then looks away with a wide grin across his face. “Brilliant”

************************************************************************

Sabina was on the ground praying to the gods for the night that was about to come. She needed to make sure that she would be able to get enough gold to feed the temple that was slowly needing more and more donations. Sure nobles and the emperors would visit but a lot of them would provide with other forms of loyalty to this goddess within their bedrooms.

“Venus, mother, please help me with this task. I am doing this for the people of Rome and to keep areas of worship open. I am sure you would rather have a beautiful garden in your name mother rather than the other offerings that are often given to you.” Sabina was referring to the emperors and their concubines. Word has went around that the brothers were loyal followers of Venus, but yet made any approach to visit her temple.

There was no response. As always. She always figured this out. Maybe her father was insane that he told her that he slept with Venus that one night under the evening stars. She didn’t say anything to him until the day Sabina was born then just left her on his doorstep. The general whenever he was asked would say it was from a one night stand and her mother is dead.

However, as time went on, she began to grow in beauty. This is something that was never explicitly addressed but people would come to see her and her generosity. When the twin brothers took over Rome, she felt the need to do more. She wanted to do whatever was needed to ensure that the people of Rome would survive their ruthlessness. So she decided to become a thief of the night and take from the rich to give to the poor, so she could ensure their own wellbeing each night. This eventually went to providing generous donations to the churches as well. Whoever encountered her promised to keep her secret.

She sighed then glanced at the attire that was given to her for the evening diner. She should have known it was going to be a really revealing stola. This one was a red one with a wide enough opening on the top to expose her larger breasts. She sighed heavily then noticed that there were no forms of jewelry to hide her breasts.

So this is what Geta wants.

Sabina sighs. Geta was an attractive man no doubt about it, but she has never been touched by anyone before. From what she seen and heard the entire process looks painful and frankly demeaning to women. She never seen the point of doing it. She honestly planned to keep it until someone worth her while would marry her, or at least offer marriage.

Plus, to Sabina, he seemed demanding and controlling and would likely give her limited rights within the palace. However, she wasn’t going to let Geta see her body that easily. She found some of the makeup provided to her and found gold powder. She painted her nipples with that color in hopes to cover them up enough. She touched up for gold makeup look then waited for the emperors to call her for dinner.

************************************************************************

She smiled throughout the entire meal. She was rather thankful that she wasn’t close enough for Geta to see her sweat across her body. There were the finest foods available in Rome for her to eat from breads, wines to cheeses.

During the entire meal, Geta was watching her intently and so was his brother. All three of them were silent during their dinner in the gardens until Geta finally spoke.

“Sabina that dress compliments you, but didn’t expect you to make it modest.”

“I did so we could focus on the food and not other matters.” Sabina slipped out which gave two disapproved looks back.

“You don’t need to cover up for me Sabina.” Geta states. His tension turned into a smile and he stood up from his chair and approached her hoping to get a better view of her. He was now inches away from her as he took her hand and kissed it firmly. “You are to be my wife as the gods wish.”

Sabina blinked twice. She was not expecting this, she honestly thought he just would want to fuck her and kick her out, like Carcalla said. She glanced at the brother who only exchanged her with a smug grin, taking pleasure in her reaction.

“Wife, my emperor, I didn’t think it would happen. What would the people of Rome think of this? You are marrying the General’s daughter.”

“Would be more ideal than you think Sabina. You are loved by the people. My brother and I have eyes, we aren’t as loved as much. With you, you will help us get Rome’s support. You can help us see what the people of Rome need while we keep our power.” Geta suggested. Sabina believed everything until the last part about helping the people, Sabina knew that they wouldn’t do that.

“Sure helping the people, that means losing some of your wealth.” She spat. As soon as those last words came out of her mouth, Geta’s hands wrapped around her throat not tight, but as a warning to her.

“This offer is too good to refuse. You will help us. The gods have made it so.”Geta warned under his breath. “Regardless of what you say, you will be my wife.”

Sabina had to think for a moment. Marriage would mean putting up with Geta for a bit until someone decides to kill him and his brother. Which at the pace they are going wont be for much longer. And it would also mean unlimited gold to smuggle to people in need. Which would help Rome.

“Regardless, I guess I have to accept.”

Geta release her and smiled. “Excellent, now if you follow me I will show you where you will be staying.”

“I thought I was staying in the guest room” Sabina muttered.

“Oh no, your staying with me now.” That caused a ocean of anxiety flood her stomach. She was about to be completely alone with the emperor in his chambers.

************************************************************************

The emperor opened the door to his chambers. He was quiet for a moment and allowed Sabina to take in the room. It was a rather lovely room, more expensive than the guest room that she was in earlier. With the silk, there was fur pillows and a thick blanket on top. His wardrobe was open and shown how lovely it was with the fine fabrics. His room smelt of oils, wine and cheese. Around them were a ray of windows separated by pillars.

“It’s a lovely room” Sabina finally says.

“It’s ours now.” Geta assured as he gestured Sabina to follow him to the bed to take in the soft blankets. She took them in and sighed at the comfort. He nodded at the guards to be dismissed as the two could talk. His eyes were glued onto her lips. “Tell me, what do you like doing for fun? Besides sword play?”

“Well I do like riding horses, I prefer riding with Luna, my horse.”

“I like riding horses too, what type of horse are they?” Geta sincerely was interested in the horse as it was nice to see that they had common interests. However, he shouldn’t be surprised as she was the generals daughter.

“She’s a black mare, rather sweet and even tempered.” Sabina cut herself off right there. Remembering the legends they say about her and her legendary black horse. She hoped that Geta didn’t catch on. But with the look that she saw in his eyes, she knew that he did.

He was no fool. The black horse, following the mare to the generals home. She was a skilled swords women. His jaw tightened as he tried to hide his suspicions of her. There was only one thing left to do and with no one else around, he can find out for sure.

“Take off your clothes.” Geta stated plainly.

“ I am pure emperor I…” Sabina tried to push it off against his suspicions and tried to change the subject. She didn’t feel ready for this at all but she felt a firm grip on her shoulders.

“Don’t make me repeat again. I want to see all of you!” Geta stated as he tugged on her stola. She jumped a bit before she stepped back to remove the stola. Geta’s eyes were hungry, watching her form be revealed to him. She realised what he was doing and pushed her hair back so her back wound would not be revealed. Yet, she was completely bare in front of him, except for the gold makeup that covered her nipples.

“Turn around.” He instructed. She did as he instructed, and her ass was in view to him. His eyes took her in and admired all of the curves of her body, the moles and scars that were left on her back.

“You have a lot of scars on your moles as well.” He commented. Sabina took a deep breath and had to think fast.

“Everyone trained with a blade have some scars to show their loyalty and determination of the craft emperor.” She responded.

“Fair ,” he grabbed her hair and then he saw it. A fresh blade wound stitched up and reeking of the scent of old blood. He couldn’t get his eyes off it. He literally has his thief in his hands. He pushed her down as he got a small whimper from her he caged her in.

The cat finally caught the mouse.

“Emperor I….”

“IT was you!” Geta spat. “I wanted to deny that a beauty like you could do such a crime to Rome yet here we are!” His hand was one again around his neck. “Explain yourself or I will see to it that your execution is going to be very painful.”

Sabina had to collect her thoughts for a moment. She only had one shot at this and to basically tell her life story to the emperor is no easy feat. Also, she had to persuade him to let her live as well. She didn’t want to bring out her maternal parentage to him but at this point she may not have a choice.

“Why would you do that? The citizens of Rome would revolt. People love me for what I do. I provide to them what they clearly need. You lack the knowledge and ability to understand that your people are starving and dying because of your foolishness. I came in to help them when you and your speakers of Rome are more focused on military warfare. You are also in conflict with with a demigod of Venus and I do not think that you want to anger my father who is beloved by everyone in Rome.” Sabina felt bratty for saying it like that but if she gets killed for it, so be it.

“You have some nerve for saying that.” His grip on her throat tightened.

“You must hear it.”

Silence.

He seen her the way she truly was now. A woman who was looking out for her people and went through great lengths to do it. However, she was his enemy, and nothing will help from being punished for her crimes. “Venus is your mother.” Geta interjected. “The goddess of love, beauty, desire, sex, fertility, prosperity and victory. Should have known.” He placed a faint smile on his lips. “Your mother has yet to grace me with any good thing in my life. Lots of sex, beauty and victory are the only thing your supposed mother has blessed me with. Yet, I want a wife, and you are in a unfortunate situation mia columba, you are going to give me a child if you like it or not.”

The words stung to her as he let go of her neck. He wasn’t going to let her walk from this. Absolutely not. He shouted for the guards to arrest her, which was almost immediately.

************************************************************************

Sabina was alone in a cell, hearing the sounds of shouting and smelling the smoke from the people of Rome rioting outside of her cell. Word went around fast in the city and everyone was there to support her.

Geta was on the upper floor, watching everyone riot for the freedom of the demigoddess. As soon as word came, the general had rushed to his daughter’s aid but was immediately stopped by the emperor who was fuming towards him as well. The general had pleaded for his daughters life, even offering to be charged instead. However, his fury was too intense and he wanted to watch the two suffer.

“Please she’s my daughter, take me instead!”

“No! You should have watched her more closely and now she is going to be punished.” Geta snapped back at him. “To think she was going to be the empress of Rome.”

The general looked at Macrinus, a advisor to the emperors. The look was a simple plea for him to let her go. The advisor nodded and cleared his throat. “You still could still marry her.”

“Repeat?” Geta’s brows furrowed.

“You are not getting a good reputation with Rome. You need someone to provide a good image. Sure she was a thief, but she is loved by the people of Rome. Killing her will only result in your downfall. Perhaps even tonight with your head rolling down the steps of this building. But if you marry her, and make sure she keeps her public appearances, your people will be on their feet. Having a demigoddess as a wife will only bring more power., even though you hate her mother.” He stated and the general hated the proposal, but he didn’t have much choice.

“Gain reputation and use her as a puppet to gain power from Rome.” Geta summarized his grin grew wide. “Bring me to the cell, I wish to speak to her.”

************************************************************************

Sabina was alone in her cell with Geta. She was still nude from earlier and stunk of the odor within the cell. She immediately spat on the floor as Geta chuckled. He slowly walked towards her, watching her tremble. She refused to look at him, she knew this can’t be good.

“Oh my sweet Sabina, the sun to my moon. You will live to see another day.” His hand had cusped her face gently. Brown eyes are now looking into brown watery eyes. “No more tears in this cell you are going home.” His voice was like honey, it drew her in.

She lit up as she heard those words. She thought of her home with her father and his wife. The warm pastures and her horse Luna waiting for her. How she would ride again. “Is my father here to take me home?”

“Why would your father return you home? I, your husband will.” He stated proudly, his hand now going lower down to her neck, feeling her pulse. “We are still to be married.”

“You have forgiven me of my crimes?” She squeaked as he moved his hands lower to one of her breasts. He didn’t grab them, rather let his fingers trace her nipple.

He sighed. “Forgiveness is such as light word, you are to be my wife still, the Emperess of Rome.” His hands lowered to her waist, he pulls her in to feel her body against his. She tried to squirm away he pulled onto her tighter. “Resist my offer and you will see your mother sooner than you think.” It was in a gentle tone, but it was indeed a threat. His hands lowered down her body to her ass. His ringed hand slapped her ass so hard that it was heard a few cells over, followed by Sabina’s high pitch scream.

“Disobedience is punishment and if frequently done, death.” He reached to find her core and inserted a finger inside, grinning when he heard the breathy gasp from Sabina’s lips. Her mouth was open, she was vulnerable now. Geta found her weak point. He held it there for a moment before he began to slowly move it in and out. This only caused her to make more noise.

“Please stop!” She pleaded.

“Please Stop!” Geta mimicked. “No! Please stop stealing! I wouldn’t have patience for you if you had no use to me. But you do and I command you to listen and submit to me.” He moved his pace faster inside of her.

“You have no knowledge on my powers Geta.” She tried to warn but instead became breathless due to the amount of pleasure that Geta was giving her.

“I may not, but I know how to persuade a powerful woman.” He growled in her ears. She had no reaction but to tug on his strawberry blonde hair as he curled his fingers inside of her as she felt a small knot start to form. “By making them feel something.”

Geta’s eyes darkened as he watched her. So vulnerable, so submissive, yet so powerful. She was puddy in his hands if he could prove himself to her. He watched as she climaxed, her world shattered around her. She took heavy breaths and Geta smiled even wider than before. “I think we are going to make a good team.”

Sabina had no choice but to nod, regardless of how good the fingering was. She wanted to go home. For now, she only wanted to get off the peak of pleasure that Geta put her into.

“What’s the matter, never been touched inside before?” Geta cocked a brow.

Sabina was silent as he removed his finger and pressed it against his lips to have a taste. Once her juices had touched his tongue he let out a soft moan. He complimented on the tastes of lemon and sweets. ‘Speak up.”

“No Emperor.” Sabina said. Geta didn’t say anything else before walking out of the cell, waving his guards over to bring her back to the palace.

************************************************************************

Geta and Sabina had a extravagant, very public wedding ceremony the next day. Given with the amount of time they had. Geta wanted to at least make sure that the wedding would meet to the emperors standards. He ensured that there were women serving food, wine and entertainment. He invited all of the highest nobles to the ceremony, including her family. Sure it was a last minute ceremony, but Geta had standards.

Sabina was decorated in makeup that matched Geta’s. Her eyes were darkened with a smoky shadow with a tint of golden eyeliner. Her lips were left bare with a faint lip oil covering them. Her dress was white with golden accents all over it and her hair was pulled up to reveal her neck. This didn’t go without notice that a few tears would shed on her face. She wanted to go home. She didn’t want any of this. However, she was caught and had to face the consequences.

Geta was in a matching white robe and makeup done the same. He only seen this as a duty and a way to serve punishment to the family. He would admit that she was an attractive being, but that was only a bonus of the situation.

The ceremony was very short and brief, the emperor had no choice to. The citizens were protesting outside of the door, trying to set their goddess free. So Geta made sure the ceremony was enough to legally bind them and that was it. He wouldn’t want to loose his head today, he just wanted to have enough proof with Sabina was his wife, his empress.

When vows were exchanged, all Sabina could do was nod. She had nothing else to say. Her eyes kept looking into the sad eyes of her father and his wife. The three of them knew they were in trouble, and this was their punishment. She wondered what her mother thought of all this.

Once all was said and done, Emperor Geta gave Sabina a kiss on the lips. This kiss was more harsh, as though it was sealing the contract that was implemented between the two of them. It didn’t last longer that a few moments before Sabina pushed away. Carcalla, who was the prime witness of the ceremony stood by his brother and shouted “ALL HAIL EMPEROR GETA, HIS WIFE EMPRESS SABINA AND EMPEROR CARCALLA”.

The crowd repeated the praises three times before realising how silent the crowd was outside. It was almost as though they given up and were preparing to leave. Geta and Carcalla smiled at each other, giving each other a knowing look.

A female concubine came to Geta with a cake of emmer, of the wheat kind. Geta took it from her hands and watched her walk away. He realised Sabina wasn’t make eye contact with him so he tried to lovingly get her to look at him, while it was being rather forced. He broke the emmer above her head and he watched it crumble around her.

As they were on the ground taking the cake around them, Geta wrapped his hand on hers. “Remember your mine, you need to play the part.”

************************************************************************

The rest of the wedding went by smoothly, there were various guests congratulating the couple that were hardly separated. Geta had his arm wrapped around her the entire time, ensuring that no one had a plan to steal his new empress away.

Her father and his wife came by to “congratulate” the couple but only discussed plans for future meetings. From her father’s eyes, she could tell that he far from approves of this match and hopes something dreadful will happen to him in the future so she would be free. Through a short discussion, Geta had sent them to talk with the other officials.

Geta had to excuse himself for a moment then Carcalla had quickly replaced him with a breath of strong wine and a fresh cup in hand. He was quite giggly, which had concerned Sabina.

“Welcome to the family sister, I had my doubts but you survived.” He shrugged. Sabina politely smiled at him, sensing the uneasy tension between the two. They hardly spoke to each other, yet there was strong tension.

“I suppose it is safe to call you brother, but I prefer Carcalla. It is however whatever you wish.” Sabina bowed her head.

“I prefer either. But I also wanted to propose.” Carcalla grinned as he took a step closer to her. “Just because your married to my brother, doesn’t mean you can’t warm my bed.”

“Excuse me?” Sabina hardly choked out.

“Geta can be busy and women, such as yourself should be treasured. This marriage may be of convivence and power but that a women should not be abandoned.” His voice was lower then before he could add onto his point, Macrinus placed a hand on his shoulder. Sabina never met the advisor up close. He made eye contact and smiled at her for a moment.

“I think you should go and sit down emperor, the entertainment is about to start. “ He ushered him to sit down. While hesitant at first, Carcalla sat next to his concubines.

“I apologize empress. Sometimes your husband’s brother can be quite imaginative.” He smiled at her. “You are quite the beauty, so mysterious and so strong. The heart of a rebel thief of Rome” He muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Sabina sighed. Of course he knew who she was before this entire thing. “Macrinus, how should I address you, high advisor Macrinus, or….”

“Just Macrinus. It is I who should be calling you the highest of honors.” He grinned as he kissed the front of her hand. “For I am just your servant, rebellious Emperess.”

“Macrinus, it is an honor to meet you. I….”

Geta snuck up behind her and wrapped his arm around her once again. “She is no longer a rebel, she is my wife and one day, she will provide me with heirs to Rome to provide order.” His grip tightened on her and Macrinus had noticed immediately. The advisor mumbled a “very well” before glancing at Sabina, providing a final bow and walked away.

Something told Sabina she was going to be talking again to him real soon.

************************************************************************

The ceremony ended slowly as the guests left to their homes or rented rooms respectfully. Geta and Sabina personally thanked everyone to this joyous occasion.

Only that it wasn’t joyous to either of them.

Once everyone left, Carcalla excused himself with some concubines as they went off to their own endeavours as he called it. Carcalla’s eyes, however didn’t leave her as he left. Geta let out a heavy sigh as soon as it was the two of them.

He closed his eyes for a moment just to take in the peace. “Finally, it is over.”

“I suppose it is, I guess that people of Rome will be at your feet as I am your bride.” Sabina looked down at her feet. She knows what is to come, her responsibilities and expectations but she wasn’t sure what was to become of her today.

“They will be, with you allied with me, adopting our customs. Your going to be a powerful empress.”He said, placing the palm of his hand under her chin. She looked up at him as he gave a smug smile. “You are not a prisoner here, but rather my wife. I expect you to behave as much and to be honest with me.”

All Sabina could do was nod. She knew that if he tried anything, the people of Rome would revolt. She only wanted to be at peace, and only take what her people needed.

Geta then took her by the hand and lead them to their chambers. Sabina had felt her heart start pacing. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this, for anything regarding her marriage duties. Yet, she knew it was expected of her.

He closed the door behind her then he smiled at her. He reached to remove her robe, then he stopped. He seen the fear in her eyes and realised that only one party would enjoy it. He recalled the events from the night before and sighed.

The Emperor couldn’t do this, she wasn’t ready or even wanted to do it. He sighed and took off his ceremonial robes and looked at Sabina, who still refused to look at him.

“You know we don’t have to do this.” He said in a low tone.

“We must it’s part of customs….” Sabina began but Geta shushed her.

“I know, but we don’t have to. You are the Emperess, whatever you say happens with exceptions.” He muttered, reminding her of her place. He kissed her hand and waited for her response. He knew that she was his, but he didn’t want to force her.

“I.. don’t believe I am ready yet to partake in such activities.” Sabina said after a short pause. Geta nodded and understood what she meant. She then cleared her throat “However, I did enjoy the activity that we partook last night.”

Geta blinked twice. He was going to apologize. He knew he was too forceful and aggressive towards her in the cell. He knew that it was his rage that consumed him, but now that he has her, he can watch her very carefully.

“I may prefer it a bit intense when it comes to pleasure.” She leans to his ear and whispers. She was insanely nervous, but she did like how he made her feel. Maybe she liked being treated like that, whose to say. But there was something that grew between her legs after that night. She wanted more, but she was afraid.

Geta’s eyes widened at her confession. Hearing a woman, say that was news to him. Sure, he had his concubines, where he could go for hours railing them from the back, hearing them wail in pleasure. But he was a bit surprised. He mumbled a “forgive me Venus” before he began kissing her neck.

Sabina felt the Emperor’s lips on her neck. She let out a soft whimper from the sense of ecstasy from it. There were parts of her that told her to run away to hide but other parts of her ensured her that she was safe with him. She also had to play the game as well, she still had to help her people.

Geta grabbed her by her hips and began to walk her to the bed, taking his time with it. His lips never left her neck as his lips crawled to her collarbone. She had now idea how far from the door she moved until she felt the bed from the back of her knees. She had felt him push her down on the soft mattress and she had a moment to relax from the soft fabrics. The two looked at each other for a moment before he began to take off her ritual stola, once again admiring her body.

“You are made by the gods, blessed by them.” He muttered as he flicked his tongue against her nipple, his lips curling as he seen how she squirmed by his touch. Her mouth gasped open as he let out a soft groan against her nipple. He began sucking it, testing the waters, she let out a loud moan. He grazed the sides of her body, taking her all in.

His lips trailed down to her stomach then admired her pussy, and admired it like a work of art. His brown eyes kept looking at her, watching her reaction. He liked it rough sure, but he wanted to make sure she was going to enjoy it as well. Any trace of pain, he was going to back out. The last thing he would want is Venus, who already hates him to curse him for doing wrong to her daughter.

If she was her child.

Geta took the chance and licked her pussy. It was a quick swipe, and Sabina squealed in response. He took a moment to take it in then did it again, with a similar response from her. All he was doing was test the waters and tasting her pussy. She was divine, even by her taste. He had to have more, so he began to devour her pussy.

Sabina felt strange, but in a good way. She was full of pleasure, and it felt insanely good on herself. She felt a glow around her body as she had an emperor eating her out. She felt insanely powerful with this man completely at her mercy. She wrapped her legs around him, which only made him dive further into her pussy. He muttered how her pussy tasted like the lemons he tasted the previous night in only which he would chuckle with himself. She felt a sense of pleasure that was ongoing then suddenly it vanished with the absence of his tongue.

Before she could say anything, Geta flipped her to her stomach. There was a pause, and the subtle sound of his robes being dropped. All Sabina did was shake her head then he nodded in understanding.

“I see.” The emperor muttered. There was a short period of silence. The emperor was a man of his word, and he didn’t want to scare off his new bride too soon. However, he wanted to play around with her. He walked to the corner of his bed then stood up. His eyes not loosing contact with her. His brown eyes, once full of light were dark.

“Sit on my lap.” He said sternly. Sabina felt her heart drop at the site of the emperor of Rome. He was once so proud and dashing in his outfits. Now, he is bare, vulnerable to her, asking to be tormented by her. She glanced at his cock that had curly strawberry blonde hairs attached. She has seen one before, but nothing like this. Her cheeks turned red as she watched his chest heave.

It wasn’t a suggestion, so she hopped onto his upper thigh as she took in his scent. The main smell was heavy wine and the oils he put onto himself prior to the ceremony. She got herself comfortable then she felt him begin to move his leg up and down. A grin spread across his face as he watched her tits jiggle from the movement. He repeated it again and noticed how she grinned in response to the pleasure.

“Move.” He commanded. “Up and down my leg.”

She did as was asked of her. Her pussy moved up and down his leg, taking in the feeling. When she was going to lean in to kiss his neck, she felt his hand cusp her dark hair and pull her face back. She gasped at the feeling but her eyes met with his.

“Eyes on me at all times mia Colmbia” He hissed under his breath. She nodded as she made sure to make eye contact with him. She does have power, but even it does have limits.

Brown eyes meet brown eyes again. No matter how much force, or aggression of movement, she was lost in the moment. Even just for a second, she felt invincible, the power she had and how she was desired by one of the emperors of Rome. Even with her crimes, she wasn’t sure if it made her more attractive to him and this was his way of punishing her.

Regardless, Sabina liked it.

She blushed as the movements got more and more intense. Her knot in her stomach was blooming. Once again, once she felt her height of pleasure peak, he pushed her aside, away from his leg. His tongue stuck out and curled to the side as a wide grin spread across.

“Remember, your my wife, I can only make you finish.” He scoffed as Sabina at first wanted to resort to violence. A simple slap across the face would do, but no. She knew better than that. Instead, she needed to play her cards right with him. Just like he is doing with her. With this game of cat and mouse they are playing, it really does lead to the question who is the cat and who is the mouse.

“Right, sorry husband.” Sabina muttered. Geta nodded in agreement and excused himself. Sabina thought he was going to spend the night with his concubines. She did not want to care, but somehow she did.

It was the perfect time to take some looming jewels.

She got out of her bed and went straight to work, in hopes of taking what she can, bring it to the chapel and donate it. If her husband questions it, she will say it was a donation to the church that clearly needed it. However, she will know the truth.

What was he going to do? Kill her?

************************************************************************

Geta stood by the window, with a wine glass in hand taking in some thoughts while admiring the stars.

What was he going to do with her?

What was she going to do to him?

He knew he should have sent someone to watch over her, but he needed a break from the siren. Geta knew that she was going to take some jewellery and send it off to her church, her people.

Honestly, he couldn’t care less. The jewellery in his room was very little worth to him. He keeps his valuables in a locked safe. The jewellery in that room would be a donation at the very least in the eyes of the emperor. However, if he catches her touch anything of value, she is going to be punished. A discussion will be made between them in the morning.

He called for Carcalla’s attendance. But he was nowhere to be seen. He assumed to he having the audience of his concubines. The last thing he would want to do is to walk in on that scene.

What was he going to do with her? Have a family and children of course when it came down to it. But how was he going to mold her into the woman he wants her to be? Not the thief that she is but someone that would do everything he dreams of and more?

She was perfect, but needed training as Geta saw of it.

He finished the glass of wine then felt someone’s presence in the room with him. He looked around and saw no one. He cleared his throat then let out a soft gasp after feeling a blade down his neck. He didn’t bother turning around, afraid of the consequences of doing so.

“You can take the jewels, mel.” He assumed it was his wife, but the sly chuckle that followed made him realise it wasn’t her. He didn’t budge.

“You really think your wife would do this? She already ran off with your jewels. She’ll be back in the morning though.” Her voice was dark, mellow and sinister. He wanted to ask who they were and what they wanted.

Geta paused for a moment before he could talk, the blade dug into his skin. He let out a soft yelp.

“I am going to do the talking. I will keep it simple for you to understand. Don’t. Hurt. My niece! Her mother is already at her wits end with this grand scheme of yours. She doesn’t wish her daughter to get hurt you see and son of whore emperors like you seem to think you can meddle with us without consequences. This is your one and only warning Geta.”

Before he could respond, he felt her presence gone. He was freaked out, wondering who it was and why they came at this hour. Yet, he only looked at his glass.

Perhaps he gifted himself too much with the wine.

He smirked to himself and sighed. This sounds more like a discussion with the wife in the morning.

“Emperor your neck.” He heard Macrinus say.

Geta turned around and sighed at him. “I am fine, did you see anyone run off from this direction?”. He was looking around which had Macrinus concerned.

The advisor scrunched his brows “No, no I haven’t Emperor. Why should we send to search for them?”

Geta nodded as the advisor walked closer to him. “I would have thought you would spend the night with your wife, not out here.”

There was a pause as he looked down to his feet. “I did, she’s asleep now.” He knew that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want anyone to know that he will need to punish her further for her crimes. He didn’t want the people of Rome to be angry.

Now he thought he pissed the gods off too.

#emperor geta x oc #emperor geta smut #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator ii

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midnight-mourning · 1 day ago

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Comfy Cuddles

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 18❄️❄️

one last softy before beddy by, as someone who has felt the pain of busting their ass on ice, I had to do my best for all of us out there who've suffered the same fate 😔 this one's for y'all fr fr

Prompt: YO I GOT A PROMPT :DD So, it's pretty icy where I live right now and I recently slipped and busted my ass :( Could we perhaps get the boys comforting reader after hurting themself with maybe some warming and massaging cuddles (to alleviate the pain)? :3

Word Count: 1610

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It was completely your own fault. You'd been in a rush to get to the store and get back quickly. The last thing you'd wanted was to be out and about today, but you had no choice, having forgotten to grocery shop sooner in the week. Meaning if you desired to have a decent holiday dinner or two, you needed to get supplies for it.

So, you'd rushed out the door, telling the boys you would be quick so that you could spend the day together as you'd planned. This was their first holiday season outside the Plex and you wanted everything to be perfect for them.

What you didn't account for, was mother nature herself fighting against you.

It'd been the moment you locked the front door, starting to hurrying down your porch steps that you thought, you'd cleaned off earlier that morning.

You were wrong.

Your foot catches the edge wrong, ice causing you to slip, you fall back, hands going out to catch yourself. They help soften your fall, but now your wrist and your ass hurt as you drive to the store a half-wet mess. You turn the music on the radio up louder, trying to drown out your own stewing.

You get inside and to your despair, it's even busier than you were expecting. People rush in and out, kids screaming and crying, couples arguing, senior citizens grumbling, it's a mess. Still, you won't be deterred. You adjust your hat, and begin your march inside.

You have to fight an old woman for a cart—who, mind you, already had one and a basket, she was insisting on a third for some reason—but make your way inside. Shopping is a flurry, but you still are able to grab all your ingredients without much fuss.

It's after you've checked out, and are walking out into the parking lot that nature targets you again. You're triple checking your list, when your feet come out from under you, and you fall again, this time, landing only on your left wrist, which was already hurting, and now is zinging bad.

You let out a slew of curses, ignoring the looks you get from passerbys. Thankfully, some kind woman comes to your aid, helping you back up and handing you back your cart.

On the drive home you turn the music up even louder, carols blasting at full volume. You know it's too loud when the car next to you gives you a weird look while you wait at the stop light. You just slink further down into your seat, white-knuckling the wheel.

"It's all gonna be worth it. It's all gonna be worth it." You chant to yourself. "They're gonna be so excited, they're gonna have so much fun, you're not going to ruin this for them."

You know how excited both Sun and Moon have been for the holidays. They've had a blast so far helping you decorate, put up the tree, wrap presents, and so on. But you know in particular they've been looking forward to cooking and baking with you, as it's something they could never imagine doing back in the Pizza Plex.

Furthermore, they see it as something they can do that entirely benefits you and your needs. It's important to them, the holidays and this meal overall are important to them. You'll pop a few pain relievers, and ice your wrist and you'll live.

Oh, if only that were the case.

You didn't account for one thing, and one thing alone.

Mother nature likes to work in threes.

You're walking up the steps, bundles on groceries in your arms, when she strikes one final time. While you're on the sidewalk before your steps. You slip, bags go flying, along with the last piece of your dignity, you think.

You just close your eyes and wait to hit the ground. Landing this time fully on your back, the snow only barely cushioning your fall as you let out a pained groan.

This one knocked the wind out of you, and you have to take a moment to catch your breath as you lay there, ignoring the scattered veggies and other items that surround you like the chalk outline of a crime scene.

After a few deep breaths, you reach your hand up, ripping off your glove with your teeth and biting down. You let out a muffled scream, kicking your sore feet and ignoring how each hit against the ground sends pain shooting up through you.

You're too busy having a tantrum to realize the door's opened and shut. Instead, when Sun's face comes into view you're very surprised to see him.

His voice is soft, full of worry. "Starshine, what are you doing laying out here in the snow? Why are the groceries everywhere?"

You try to speak and remember the glove. You remove it from your mouth, trying to hide your pain as you speak. "Hi, Sunny. I, had a bit of a spill."

"Oh goodness! I thought so. Are you alright?" He starts fretting, hurriedly pulling you to your wobbly feet. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to help, why did you say anything about there being so many groceries?"

You wave him off, bending to pick things up, even though it hurts like hell. "I thought I could get it all myself. It's fine, you can go back inside, you don't have a coat on and I don't want your internals freezing up."

Sun stares at you, gaze like a hawk as he sees you flinch while picking things up.

"You're hurt."

You grab another orange, stuffing it into a bag, god your... everything, hurts. "It was just a little slip, really I'm okay—"

His hand envelops yours, gently moving you so you're standing straight, his other hand on your shoulder as he peers down at you.

"A 'little slip' doesn't have you moving like you're 80, Starshine." His tone is colder than you ever heard. "You fell. Hard, apparently."

"Only for you~" You say, before you're suddenly scooped up. "Ow! Easy on the goods."

"You are hurt!" Sun tsks, marching inside. "We knew it, you're getting treated immediately, and resting the remainder of today. And tomorrow too!"

You try to protest. "It was just a couple minor spills! Come on, I'll take some meds and be okay. I know how important dinner tonight is for you guys, and today overall."

"You're more important to us than any silly tradition, you should know that by now."

Sun sets you down on the couch, snatching up not one, not two, but three blankets. He ushers you out of your outer wear and then takes the blankets, wrapping them around you in one giant, inescapable, cocoon. He pats your head a few times, then bends down to your eye level.

"Now, what's this about a couple spills, you say?" His rays click to one side, and you gulp.

You're sentence to couch jail. Length of stay? Indefinite. Conclusion based upon? The glare Sun sends you from the kitchen everytime you even consider getting up for something, including the bathroom.

He makes dinner early, practically feeding it to you because your arms are trapped under blankets and the one is wrapped in a splint with ice.

After dinner you're subjected to more torture, in the form of cuddles. An atrocity, that's what this prison is. You now sit in the sunny bot's lap, blankets around you both, as he massages your shoulders and back. You will not admit how good it feels. Both in relieving your pain, and in having such an extraordinary amount of affection hurled your way with such an act.

A groan slips through your lips when his palm digs into your shoulder blade, and he chuckles.

"It doesn't even hurt that much." You grumble, only to let out another noise unintentionally.

His voice is soft and his head lowers to your neck, planting a kiss there. "Oh, I'm sure it doesn't."

Your ears burn, but you say nothing.

"Why do you think you can't ask us for help?" He asks. "You know we care about you more than anything."

You sigh. "I just, wanted this to go smoothly today. You guys were so excited and I didn't want to let you down. I'm sorry. I'm mad at myself, not you two. Thank you for taking care of me today." You turn and plant a kiss to his cheek.

Sun's arms wrap around you, snuggling close as he kisses your shoulder. "Of course, Sunbeam. Always."

Sometime later, when the lights have been turned down and you're now watching a movie, Moon takes his turn trying to ease your pain.

"Silly, Star." He tsks, rubbing his thumb over your wrist gently, other hand kneading the side of your hip. "Next time, we're going with you. We'll even carry you if we have to."

You chuckle, humming as he works. "That sounds fun, but I'll pass. On the carrying that is. Maybe if you come with me one of you will also bust your ass, and I'll have something to laugh about."

Moon snickers, pressing his faceplate to your lifted wrist. "How mean of you. But if it'll make you smile, I suppose we can suffer through."

"Appreciate it." You snuggle closer to him, eyelids starting to feel heavy after being wrapped up and warm for so long.

As sleep starts to take you over you mumble out another thanks to the attendants, hoping they heard you.

Well, you can always tell them again in the morning. Maybe show them too. A few more kisses should do the job quite nicely.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the cute request @kaprisvn!! Hope you're feeling better now, and at the very least hope this was a fun little read ^-^

captured the feeling properly :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

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#fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #x reader #mm dca december #glad i finished this tonight #was cookin as they say #but ohhhh so sleepy #magma tomorrow i think #its not even late for me it's just hittin hard #what a pity

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gguk-n · 1 day ago

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would you consider doing a prompt in which the MLs have the same soulmate marks but they are enemies? you can choose the driver and the logistics i would love to see a fic like this by youu

Thank you for the ask!!

I had this in my inbox for so long bc I'm indecisive and I couldn't choose who to write it for, so there's a poll to choose. There will be a part 2.

What? How?

Everyone grew up hearing about soulmate; from their family or friends or relatives. Most people looked forward to meeting their soulmate, some people wanted to defy fate and some people never got to meet their soulmate.

Y/N thought she was a part of the soulmate less crew, "I'll register you with soulmatch" her mother told her. Soulmatch was an agency, a app or a website, which ever one you chose to help two soulmate less individuals get together and find companionship in each other. Her mother wanted her to start looking, Y/N couldn't careless since her job kept her busy and she was barely at home anyways. Y/N was a race engineer in Formula One; a job she worked tirelessly to achieve. It barely gave her any time to wonder where her soulmate was. She got to work with some of the most talented and smart people to make machinery that made the car go really fast. But now she was working with her driver to make sure the race went as smoothly as possible with the best result as possible; sometimes at the cost of the other driver. "Are you listening to me?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Yeah" she replied. "I'll let you know once you match with people" her mother stated before cutting the call.

Her parents were late bloomers themselves; meeting each other in their late 20's and early 30's so she didn't understand the fuss her mother was making. She was in her prime and a soulmate would come along when he wanted to. Y/N travelled the world; if a soulmate existed, she would run into him eventually.

There were a lot of times you would wish someone was your soulmate and there were a lot of times you wished someone wasn't. For Y/N, it was her driver's teammate. She hated his guts; ever since she had joined, he had been a pain in the ass for as long as she could remember. He would start fights with her if she prioritised her driver, and honestly, who else would she prioritise. She had good strategies that would work in her driver's favour sometimes and he couldn't tolerate it. Starting fights and unnecessary arguments. The team was done with them, the paddock was done with them and the DTS crew always had so much fun.

It was any other race weekend, the two of them had been at odds since FP1. Y/N tried to be calm and mature about it; she didn't want to cause issues for the team. Hence, she ignored any thing and everything he said. It was getting on his nerve; she was ignoring him and behaving extremely rudely to him. It all came to a head when the team finished P1 and P3 with Y/N's driver winning the race. You can already imagine the resentment brewing as he got out of the car.

During the post race interview, there were jabs being thrown but it was during On The Sofa; he said something, he later realised he shouldn't have. But it was too late; Y/N was already there and a fight broke out. A lot of commotion, the media having a field day, the P1 and P2 driver trying to get them to stop, their team trying to stop them and PR having a crisis. The crowd went silent as Y/N pulled her sleeve up to reveal her soulmate mark which matched the her enemies's soulmate mark exactly; now visible due to the scuffle. A loud whisper broke out in the crowd, Y/N looking at him and then his mark as the pair tried to process what was happening. Over whelmed with emotions, Y/N stormed off, leaving the crowd but most of all her soulmate stunned.

Y/N was reeling from the revelation; the man who was supposed to be her soulmate was also the man she hated the most, or did she dislike him? All of these thoughts and emotions swirled inside her as she wondered what just happened and how she had gone this long before finding out. Did he know? Did he hate her because he knew? What was going on and what was she supposed to do? She felt her world crash and her phone wouldn't stop ringing. She looked at the caller and it was her mum. "Congratulations darling" she bellowed. Y/N was confused, "I saw you found your soulmate" her mum said when she got no reply. "How did you find out?" she asked. "It's on the news, sweetheart" her mother stated. While Y/N was still reeling from the revelation, F1's social media accounts had already posted about the two sworn enemies actually being soulmates and how it was straight out of a fairytale. Y/N wanted to disappear. Why was this happening now? she wondered, exhausted from the events of the day.

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lisbeth-kk · 2 days ago

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Sherlock fandom. TW: suicide thoughts.

John’s War

When it begins, it’s subtle. A flutter in his stomach, which later turns into an ache in his heart. He knows it’s wrong, and he desperately tries to fight it. It’s like a war, and he is the only participant.

John’s been in love many times. Audrey was the first, Bethany the last. And it’s been fine. Normal. Girls seem to like him. He’s got quite the reputation by the time he’s reached sixteen.

***

It all started to crumble when his sister, Harry, came out as a lesbian at fourteen. Their parents had been livid, but Harry came prepared and was totally unfazed. She’d even arranged to stay at her girlfriend’s family, fully aware that her own mum and dad would kick her out if she didn’t retract and started to act normal.

***

Lance was half American, half British. He and his mother had recently moved back to London after almost twenty years in America. The moment John laid his eyes on Lance, the fluttering began. Lance looked like a film star. Golden, curly hair, green eyes, androgyne features, a slender body, strong hands, long fingers. He was everything John wasn’t. Gay, for starters. And he wanted John of all people.

Words John’s father used on such people, played on repeat in his mind:

Faggot. Queer. Degenerate.

John tried to tell Lance, he was straight, but there was no denying how much John wanted Lance to kiss and touch him. His penis reminded him repeatedly and inconveniently every so often of that particular fact.

“John. Stop this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lance whispered softly and kissed John’s neck. “Haven’t you heard of bisexuality?”

***

Running away to Afghanistan was the only way forward for John when he couldn’t rescue Lance after his overdose. He felt the need to atone for his lack of observation.

How had he not seen the self-destructing path Lance was heading down? He was a bloody doctor, for Christ’s sake! Had he been in denial about that too? Didn’t he want to believe that such a talented man Lance turned out to be, could choose to destroy himself just because he failed the interview for the main role in a West End play?

“I’m sorry, darling, but there’ll be other roles. New chances. No one gets them on the first try, surely,” John had tried to reassure his lover, but to no avail.

So, there he was. In Afghanistan where danger lurked around every corner. John was quite startled that he enjoyed the danger so much. He felt alive, thrilled, his broken heart notwithstanding.

And then, another man invaded his thoughts, and eventually his bed. Major James Sholto.

***

Mike Stamford had never seen a more broken man in his life than John Watson, as he limped past the bench, where he was sitting thinking about Sherlock's words from earlier:

“Who would want me for a flatmate? I’m a difficult man at best. People hate being around me. Can you imagine someone actually living with me? Who is alive themselves. No, Mike. There exists no such human, I assure you.”

“John! John Watson!” he called out.

When John just gave him a blank stare, Mike sighed and introduced himself. The response was insulting to say the least. No “oh, nice to see you again, mate,” or “what have you been up to?” There was…nothing.

“Who has left you heartbroken, John?” Mike didn’t say and let John walk away without having said a word.

***

After his meeting with Mike, John finds himself outside Barts hospital. He’s got fond memories from his practise here. With Mike. He winces when he reminisces how rude he was to the jovial man. But it couldn’t be helped. John’s a broken man in so many ways, and he just wants to be left alone. He looks up. Wonders how it would feel to stand on the edge of that roof. Would he dare to jump off it if the opportunity arose? He’s never been afraid of heights. And he longs for the pain to subside. The emotional pain. The pain that scars his heart.

Time eludes him. Why are his knees hurting? He opens his eyes. Is he kneeling on the pavement? Apparently. When did that happen? How long? His thoughts stop abruptly when a warm hand is placed on his good shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

A deep baritone. John perceives a posh accent. The warmth from the man’s hand travel down his spine like lava.

Radiant. Alluring. Dangerous.

He lifts his head. At first glance, the man could be Lance’s twin. But then, John realises that it’s only the curly hair and height they have in common. This man’s hair is almost black with tinges of auburn. His eyes are blue, but also green and blue green. The colours are constantly shifting. They’re mesmerising. John wants to drown himself in them.

John stands. He still hasn’t said a word. The man hands him his cane and speaks again.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

For the first time in years John’s first response isn’t to flee. Instead, he straightens his back, lifts his chin and asks:

“How? Tell me.”

The flicker of surprise, quickly followed by insecurity on the man’s face, makes John realise that this can be, if he lets it, a new beginning.

“Go on,” John prompts.

When the man speaks again, John is lost. An ease sets within him, and his heart stops cracking.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

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anyarose011 · 1 day ago

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"I Would Not Change it Each Time" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: After the assault you faced, all you wanted to do was crawl into your childhood bed and never come out. Yet, as days pass in with your absence, a certain prince regent takes notice.

Part 4 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past attempted SA, past grooming, emotional manipulation, coercion, and spoilers for future seasons

Heyyyyyy, it's meeeee. I'm SOO sorry it took almost 3 months for this entire chapter, but besides wrongfully starting/continuing other series, school has also been killing me. Also, despite this being a long ass chapter, I do not mean for it to sound rushed. I feel like how I ended this may be controversial, but I also wanted to keep it both happy and realistic; so please keep that in mind. I also imagine the character Evrin to be played by Assad Zaman, but you can imagine just any actor you personally find beautiful.

Word Count: 10.1k

You were still covered in his blood when you awoke, your wrist had turned brown, and you had finger shaped bruises on the inside of your thigh.

It was strange…despite ripping a man’s throat out with your teeth, you didn’t have any nightmares. What woke you up was having to use the chamber pot. Something so small and natural.

Dragging yourself out of your room, you stumbled through the hall and went into the closet with the chamber pot and shut the door. After relieving yourself in darkness, you left and was greeted by-.

“Seven Hells!” Your grandmother gasped. You jumped a little, only to then hiss in pain, clutching your stomach.

She held you up as best as she could. “Vivi, sweetie, what happened to you?”

You shook your head, only groaning and trying to escape her hold. Despite being in your state, you managed to slip away from her. She tried to follow after you, but you slammed the door in her face when you were back in your room.

Something caught your eye, and when you looked down, you were met with a sapphire; Aemond’s eye. You bent over slowly, picking up the gem with your unbroken wrist.

Without thinking clearly, you hobbled over to your dresser, opened the top drawer, and buried it under what little clothing you owned.

The dress on you had become too heavy, so you slipped it off your body and collapsed onto your bed; falling into the darkness of sleep once more.

You must have been dreaming, because you thought you heard your grandmother call you by your name for the first time in a while.

Opening your eyes, you were too weak to even sit up in alarm at her standing over you. Your heart quickened and soon slowed once you realized it was just her eyes staring back at you (and not a man’s).

“What happened?” She touched your face.

You groaned, turning away. “Really bad job.”

“Let’s clean you up.”

“Tired.” You inched yourself under your covers, hitching your breath with each movement.

Gigi frowned. “You’ve slept the day away; the sun will set soon.”

“It hurts to move.”

“Then I’ll bring in the pail and rag.”

“Just let me rest.”

She placed her hands on her hips, glaring. “You’re covered in blood that I hope is not yours.”

“Most of it isn’t.”

Sighing, Gigi begged. “At least eat something.”

You laughed painfully. What was there to eat? You only had but a few slices of bread, two carrots, and a little less than a pound of cheese. You were considered wealthy even by those standards. Aemond had closed off all the ports…

No one could get in, and no one could get out; including food.

“It’s not funny.” She frowned. “I’m going to make you something, and you will eat it.”

Gigi didn’t give you enough time to say ‘no’. She wandered out of the room, leaving you alone. The only time you moved to get out of bed that hour was to force yourself onto your feet and lock the door.

No matter how much she banged on wood or cried and begged for you to let her help, you did not open it.

It hurt to cry, but how else would you mourn your old body before it had been bruised and beaten?

You heard countless horrific memories the girls in Sylvi’s brothel would share of being violated; many worse than yours. Still, just as how nothing could’ve prepared you for how pleasureful sex could be, the same was for the pain it brought.

Gigi lessened her attempts in trying to get you to come out of your room. She’d manage to slide food under your door, and you only would eat when you were sure she was away.

Most of the days (how long had it been since you last saw a familiar face?) you spent under the covers in your bed. If you were not sleeping, your mind would wander. Seldomly, it would be to happier memories of your childhood, your mother, Aemond…

And then they would turn cold and dark; especially at the thought of him.

And then you would cry again, and then your eyes would hurt.

It wasn’t an hour later when you were still under the covers that you heard a man’s voice coming from outside your door. No, he did not knock, he kicked it open. You only had time to flinch at the abrupt entrance before Gigi’s voice broke through.

“How dare you! You’ll frighten her even more than she already is, you mindless oaf!”

“I worry for her.”

Aemond…what was he doing here?!

“Do you think I have been neglecting her all this time?” She dared.

“No.”

“Then…please be gentle with her.” Gigi gritted her teeth, and you heard her leave the room, shutting the door but it creaking slightly open.

Sighing, you pictured Aemond turning to look at the lump on the bed that was you. “Do you have any idea the troubles your grandmother would have faced if I were not outside the Red Keep today?”

Silence was your reply.

“It’s almost sunset, if you were wondering.”

You said nothing again, and that was enough for him.

“There I was, heading to spar and clear my mind from the past few days, and I see her rattling the gates, begging the guards to speak to Jahearys.” He hissed. “Had I not rushed over in time, they would have seen it as insult and…”

Though you had no more tears left to cry, the pain in your chest was heavier than ever at the thought of your grandmother being killed like a dog simply for her dwindling mind. Aemond sighed, and you felt a dip at the foot of your bed.

“It was already a risk to travel into the city now. Many of the smallfolk are…troublesome. I’ve neglected you for a day, and I apologize for leaving without telling you two nights ago, but you should not hold that against me. I went to see you last night and you were not there. I asked every girl in that brothel, and they either did not know, or refused to tell me anything more than that you were hurt. I offered coin, and they did not take it.” He scoffed. “I’ve never seen a whore turn away gold. You must mean the world to them.”

Never in your life had you thought that.

“Will you look at me?”

You didn’t want him to. He had caressed and gazed upon every inch of your body, but you wanted to sink into the mattress underneath you, and then into the earth so he could never find you.

But you didn’t get to do that.

The blanket was ripped off you, the cold air of your bedroom penetrating your bare body. On your back, cradling your wrist to your chest, you watched as Aemond sat above you. The eyepatch he wore only proved that he had rushed over from the Red Keep. For the first time since you had known him, you saw that look on his face: Fear.

His mouth parted as his wide eye ran over your body; every bruise and scratch, and all the blood that had tried to meld itself into your skin. His eye lingered on the inside of your thighs, and you whimpered when he placed his hand on the bruises of it.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice hadn’t changed. He asked it as if he was wondering how your day had gone.

Your breathing stuttered when you attempted to glare at him. “The man you sent to have pleasure with me.”

Aemond’s eye softened. “What?”

You forced yourself to sit up despite your painful cries. “Leave me.”

He said your name, sitting at your side and placing his hands on your shoulders. “I haven’t sent anyone-.”

“-Stop!”

“Wait-!”

“-Go away!” You shoved him, trying to stand, but his hands gripped your waist too tightly as he forced you back down onto the bed.

“Listen to me when I speak to you.” He commanded, but you still struggled beneath him. When you were nearly out of his grip, he gripped your face in his hands. “I said listen to me!”

You were both out of breath, huffing together as you calmed your racing heart. His voice was heavy with emotion, and tears were beginning to form.

He took a shuttering breath. “When all of this is over, it’s you who will bear my children. Even if I have to marry a Lannister or a Martell, I will not lay a finger on them. I will be king when Aegon is dead, and it will not matter what my mother, fucking Larys, or any of them think! Centuries will pass and history will remember you as my wife. How could you believe I would ever send a man to taint you after everything you have done? You-you have been the first and the only to ever show me kindness. Do you hear me?! I love you.”

“You’re hurting me.” You sobbed as he squeezed you tighter and tighter.

Aemond immediately loosened his hold but held you close. You placed your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself through your sniffling breaths. He dried your tears with his hand. “Avy jorrāelan. Say it.”

“Aemond.” You shut your eyes.

“Avy jorrāelan.” He kissed them both and trailed his lips over every inch of your face.

Relaxing into his embrace, if you cradled yourself any closer to him you would sink into his skin. He held you for what you wished was the rest of your lifetime.

He set you down too quickly but shushed you when you protested. “I need to fetch hot water to clean you and wrap your wrist. It’s broken.”

Aemond disappeared from your room. When you finally managed to sit up with the pillow supporting behind you, he came back in with a bucket of steaming water, some cloth, and two sticks from the fireplace.

He first began on your wrist, wrapping the cloth around your elbow to your wrist. He then placed the sticks alongside your arm, securing them with more of the cloth tied tightly around on the ends.

After that, he took another spare piece of cloth and dipped it into the water, wringing it out and placing it upon your face. You inched away, hissing.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

“A little.” You whispered. “It’s warm and…and…”

“What is it?”

“It’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

Swallowing thickly, you professed “I feel-I feel like I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t the only one…bare.”

He looked at you, nodding. “You’re right, that is silly.”

You thought you were being overdramatic how you felt in that moment; you had just gone through something frightening, of course you would be red in the face at his comment.

Still, you weren’t for long. The Prince Regent, the kinslayer who could wipe out all of Kings Landing with just the snap of his fingers, slipped off his eyepatch and his shirt.

“Is that better?” He grinned.

You nodded. Aemond tried his best to be gentle as he cleaned the blood off you. There were times though he’d have to scrub until your skin turned red. When he was finished, he tossed the cloth onto the floor.

“Your nose is bruised, along with your ribs. Besides your wrist, nothing is broken; just abrasions.” He explained.

Again, you merely nodded. Aemond titled his head before unlacing and kicking his shoes off, then bringing his hands to the ties of his trousers. Once untied, he pulled them down along with his undergarments, his cock springing free.

You sat up, your body tense. “No. I-I don’t want-.”

“-Neither do I.” He sat on the empty side of your bed, lifting up the blanket. “Let us hide and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

You didn’t have to be asked again. Slowly as to not damage yourself, you finally slipped yourself under the covers, and Aemond followed.

As soon as you were completely covered, you enveloped yourself around him; your legs intertwining each other and pressing your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around you, fingertips traveling up and down your back. You hid your face within the crook of his neck, and it was then, when you felt safe, did tears fall.

“I didn’t send him.” Aemond repeated into your hair. “You must know that.”

“Where were you?” You cried.

A shameful sigh escaped him. “The Red Keep. A messenger came for me; my brother had taken a turn for the worst.”

“You said you would stay.”

He only pulled you closer. “Tell me what happened.”

“He-.” You took a quaking breath. “He tried to rape me.”

“But you didn’t let him.”

Your lips moved, but barely a sound let them.

He hummed. “What was that?”

“I’m a monster.”

Aemond shook his head. “There is nothing you could have done that would be more horrific than anything I would do if he were still alive.”

“I ripped his throat out with my own mouth.” His gaze traveled down to you, and you shrunk under it. “I-I had to pretend I enjoyed kissing him; I had nothing to defend myself but my teeth.”

“Fine then; you’re a monster.” Your eyes grew round with fright, but before you could refute, he continued. “You are a monster who fought for your survival and won. I know a number of men who would have crumbled if they wore your skin that night. You bared your teeth and refused to lie down and let him steal you. I’ve been told until my ears bleed that every woman is the image of the Mother, but I have not believed it until I saw you tonight. Painted in the blood of the man that had tried to taint you, you have never looked more beautiful.”

Tears had returned to your eyes before you could stop them, and he kissed each one that fell. You pulled away from him to lie flat on your back but clutched his hand.

“It was the man at the brothel when I was first wounded. The one who said he’d give me a little death.” You whispered. “Sylvi came in after I killed him. She-she said you left with a man and…”

His hand went to your cheek, making you look at him. “I did not send him.”

“I know.” Your words were immediate. “I…I think she did.”

“Why?”

You covered your mouth to swallow a sob forming. Breathing deeply, you took your hand away. “She was envious of me, she was envious of you, maybe she thought I was distracted-.”

“-Why would she be envious of me?”

“She had feelings for my mother.” You admitted tiredly. “She was drunk one night and told me. I jested in my mind that perhaps those feelings carried over to me because she’d constantly tell me I looked exactly like my mother. I don’t know for certain but…”

He ran his fingers through your hair. “Every ounce of struggle you have faced has only made you even more fierce.”

“You are not the first nor the last man who will tell me that.”

Aemond hummed, interested in your words. “How old were you when you first heard it?

“Ten, when I went to the pleasure house to find my mother. Thank the Seven I didn’t wander into any men wanting to bed me, but I found a few who were fine speaking to me about their life; their wives, children, and how they hated them. Maybe they wanted to fuck me, maybe they didn’t; I don’t know. All I knew was that I was excellent at talking to them; and I shouldn’t have been.”

He said nothing, nor made a sound. No words of comfort, no verbal indication of anything.

No, he did something far greater.

Aemond moved down the bed until he came to your legs, parting them gently. As you were raising your neck up to see what he was doing, you felt his lips on your stomach. He kissed your skin then up to the scar on your side.

Your breath hitched as he covered it with affection, all the while, tenderly stroking your hip. There was something else that weighed on your mind. Something that wouldn’t matter to him, but it mattered to you. Your hand trailed down into his hair, stopping him.

“You need to tell me the truth with what I ask you next.”

He glanced up at you as his head was still between your legs. “Go on.”

“Would-.” You sniffled. “If that man had violated me…would you have been disgusted with me?”

He lowered his mouth to your center. He didn’t kiss your cunt, but instead, the bruises close to it. “I will skin the part of any man that touches you, even if it is his shoulder that brushes yours in a crowded street.”

You hated how often you cried that night, more so from his tenderness than of sorrow. Still, it was perhaps the first time in all your life you felt cherished. You felt safe.

“Av-avy,” You babbled, both from the overwhelming emotions and the already difficult pronunciation. “Avy jor-joral.”

Aemond trailed his kisses up your body until they hovered over your mouth, his hands by your head to hold himself above you. He said the words again, slowly.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

You repeated after him. “Avy jorrailaan.”

He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb caressing your lips and whispering into them. “Avy.”

“Avy.” You matched his volume.

“Jorr.”

“-āelan.”

“Say it to me.” His mouth was so close to yours.

Sighing at the feeling, you finally said. “Avy jorrāelan.”

He kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. He kissed you before with shyness, vigor, passion, but never like this. It was a kiss that held a safety to it; where you felt as if he could protect you from the darkest corners of the world, and the darkest parts of your own mind.

When he pulled away, he rested beside you, running his fingers through your hair. You wrapped your arms around him, trapping him in your embrace.

“I wish we knew each other when we were children.” He gently confessed in the silence of the night.

You nodded against him, then asked. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He kissed the hollow of your throat. “I’ll be here when you awake.”

“Thank you.”

“You do not need to.”

“No,” you corrected. “thank you for being the first to kiss me. If not…then it would’ve been with the man a few nights ago.”

“Sleep.” He uttered your name into your ear.

And you did.

You don’t remember what you dreamed of, but you know that it wasn’t either bad nor good; it was just strange.

What you certainly remember was Aemond stirring beside you.

You were on your back, but you hadn’t opened your eyes when you awoke. His arm that was once draped over you left, and he slid out of the blankets. You listened as he tried to quietly shuffle around the room, putting his clothes back on. When you heard him sitting to put his shoes on, you finally looked at him.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse.

He glanced up at you, his eyepatch already on. Sighing, he finished lacing up his first boot. “The sun will be rising soon.”

“How do you know that? You said you’d stay until I woke up.”

“And you’re awake.” He moved onto his other shoe.

“Because of you.”

Aemond groaned your name. “I cannot spend the morning here and cook you and your grandmother breakfast. My brother is on the brink of death, the realm is in shambles, and I don’t even want to ponder what Rhaenyra’s next course of action is.”

“You gave me your word.”

“Did you even listen to any of the words I said just now?”

“I was almost raped and murdered!” You cried, sitting up. “You cannot do this one thing I-?”

“-And how many women will be if I am unable to prevent the Pretender from stealing the throne?” He challenged.

Your face dropped along with your heart. If your body wasn’t weak, you would have left the bed, your room, and perhaps even the house. You wouldn’t know where to go, but you just had to be away from him.

It scared you how that was your first thought.

Upon seeing the fear in your eyes, Aemond sighed, shaking his head. After finishing with his other boot, he sat on the side of your bed.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He ran his finger over your arm. “I do not want what happened to you to happen to any other woman or child. I only want you to be safe.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap.

He put his hand under your chin to look at him, saying your name. “I do love you. You must understand that.”

You took his hand, lightly kissing his palm and whispering into it. “Avy jorrāelan.”

A hint of a smile spread across his cheeks, and he stood swiftly. “I will not be able to see you on the morrow, but the day after that, I will meet you at Sylvi’s.”

“I-I won’t be able to perform-.”

“-Does it surprise you I only wish for your mere presence?” He questioned. “You’re not a whore; you are perhaps my greatest treasure.”

With one last kiss upon your head, he left. You heard the front door shut, and you were left stark naked in your bed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even feel like wanting too. You had never felt the way you had with him. You never laughed like that in your life until you met him, you had never been so in love with someone. He was a perfect match for your intelligence and your humor.

He never hurt you as you made love. He’d leave his own marks, but the moment you told him ‘no’, or said that you were in pain, he’d stop. He’d pull every orgasm out of you with such ease, like your bodies had been made for each other.

Gods above and devils below, you wanted to wear his skin and become one with him.

And yet…you still felt strange.

You were just sitting there in your darkened room, wrapped in your blankets and staring at the blank wall in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed Gigi came into your room until she was right beside you, holding a tray with two slices of bread and a steaming bowl.

“They say a Targaryen sent ships to feed us.” She smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and placing the tray down. “Marija managed to fight some men for vegetables and chicken of all things!”

The soup was thick and filled with all the contents she mentioned that Marija fought for. It took everything within you to savor it and not burn your mouth while devouring it. You ate silently while Gigi took a slice of bread and dipped it into the soup.

“I thought Jaehaerys would never leave. He’s a nice young man, but-.”

“-How did you know you were in love with that Dornish man?”

She glanced up at you, and after getting over her initial shock, she smiled. “You mean my Qoren?”

“No, that’s not his name.”

“But it is.” She beamed. “He gave me a false one at first but then told me after he had enough drink.”

You giggled with her, despite already being told the story several times. Still, what she was saying was new.

Gigi continued. “Oh, he was so lovely. You know they say Dornish men are passionate, and Seven Hells he was. There was one night after he walked me home-.”

“-What else?” You asked, not particularly wanting to speak of her intimate life and categories of men from Dorne.

“He was gentle with me.” She recounted, grinning shyly. “Not just with my body but with my mind. He loved me proudly too, and loudly. If there were any other men in a tavern who tried to grab onto me, he’d tell the lot of them I was his and that he was mine.”

You smiled. “He sounded very kind.”

“He was.” She nodded. “His eyes were green; very unusual for anyone from Dorne…or were they blue? Or-or were they just brown?”

Sighing you set your meal aside, embracing her. “Were his eyes nice?”

“They were my favorite part of him.” Gig admitted softly.

You hummed, pulling away. “I wish to be alone. Is that alright?”

She rubbed your cheek. “Of course. Please come get me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She left the half-eaten supper with you, and walked out of your bedroom, trying to shut the door completely.

As you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind began to ponder. You had been a secret to everyone in Aemond’s life. You were certain no one within the Red Keep knew of your affair, let alone your existence.

But the people in your life, Sylvi, the girls, even your own grandmother? Of course they were aware of you two.

You understood to an extent; what would the royal council in their fancy castle think if the prince regent had fallen in love with a member of the Smallfolk? Would it be better if you were a prostitute?

Immediately, you thought ‘no’ because of Lady Mysaria. There would be past gossip you’d hear throughout the silk street of the whore who had been married to one Prince Daemon and had nearly birthed his child.

It was then that you remembered the war that had been simmering within the walls of Kings Landing for weeks at that point. No doubt, with so much death from both sides, would it finally take place. Thus, you were forced to determine what would happen with only your personal knowledge of the situation.

The best outcome is that the Greens win the war, Aegon dies one way or another, and Aemond is named king. You are his royal concubine while he marries a noble girl, but he never beds her. You are the mother to all his children, and you live comfortably in the Red Keep for the rest of your days.

You would have done the impossible amongst the Smallfolk; be chosen by the prince out of genuine love and not of lust or a weapon in an issue of the family.

Yet, you had many concerns. The first being you didn’t understand how he could be married to a woman from a different house yet not have her produce an heir without being ridiculed by her family. Was that unimportant?

And how was Aemond so certain of his own brother’s passing? Would he be responsible for it if he were to make a recovery?

As these questions rattled on, you then had to face the worst outcome.

On the off chance they would lose, and Rhaenyra was to take the throne as you were officially Aemond’s lover…you had read it in one of the books Aemond had brought you to teach you his mother tongue.

‘When the winners slaughter and maim the man in battle, they shall rape and torture his woman in her own home.’

That was what made your head ache, and you try to sleep. The phrase plagued your mind for hours as you tossed and turned.

The next day, you finally left the house. Draped in the same hood you stole on your night out with Aemond, you entered Sylvi’s pleasure house with your heart churning in your stomach. You felt sick as soon as you stepped into the doorway. A young girl whose name you couldn’t remember was sweeping the entrance.

“We’re not opened yet,” she said. “the men and women need to rest before you can dive your cock into them.”

You pulled your hood down, revealing your bruised and battered face. She stood still at the sight of you and said your name softly. “What happened?”

“I need to speak with Valda and Chansey.” You uttered.

She swallowed, nodding and dashing up the stairs. You leaned against the wall to steady yourself, your wounds still extremely tender. Sooner than you thought, the two women came rushing down the stairs.

Valda’s face fell upon seeing the state of you, and she was by your side in a moment. “Gods above.”

“Is Sylvi here?” You questioned.

Chansey took a quivering breath, coming to your other side and resting her hand on your cheek. She whispered your name. “She…she’s gone.”

Your stomach only tied itself into more knots. “What?”

“No one’s seen her since last night.” She explained. “We looked in her room, but she wasn’t there.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor as they led you to one of the curtained off rooms in the great hall. Normally, you would’ve refused to even step foot into one of them, but your need to sit was far greater.

“You limped out of here after being brutally raped, and you haven’t been here for days.” Valda scolded, but you could hear the pain behind it. “Aemond comes in demanding where you are, and we are none the wiser. What exactly happened?”

Your eyes furrowed as you glanced up at her. “I-I wasn’t raped. I mean, I was almost, but I killed him.”

“You what?!”

“I ripped his throat out.” You explained. “Sylvi came in soon after and said it was Aemond who sent the man. I went home, and a few days later, Aemond came to tell me he didn’t. I-I think it was Sylvi.”

The girls glanced at one another as they processed your account. Valda spoke first. “It…it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. There was one night when Aegon arrived with other men, seeking Sylvi. Unbeknownst to him, Aemond was here with her. After being taunted, Aemond let them do whatever they wanted to her.”

You didn’t know that, and if you had been told it prior to being attacked, perhaps you would’ve looked upon Aemond with more disgust. What you felt was more so perplexion; did Sylvi send a man to assault you to get back at Aemond for letting men do the same, or did Aemond only see you as a warm place for men to stick their cocks?

No…he loved you. He told you in Common and in High Valyrian.

“You believe she did it to spite him?” You asked.

Valda shook her head. “I only tell you what I know. We all know how dangerous a woman is when she is scorned.”

“I wouldn’t preach the importance of consent and then send a man to molest a girl I’ve known since she was a child!”

“Is it easier for you to believe that Aemond sent him then?!”

You never heard Chansey speak so desperately. What she meant to yell in anger, she instead cried in shame. Her breath quivered in an attempt to repress tears, and both you and Valda coddled her.

“What is it?” You questioned.

She swallowed before speaking. “There was one night but a week ago you hadn’t met with Aemond here, wasn’t there?”

“Chansey-.”

“-You weren’t here one night because he told you the one prior he had to attend to a council meeting.”

Your mouth parted. “How-how did you know?”

“He asked for eight girls to be sent to the Red Keep.” She whispered. “I was one of them. There was no meeting; we were there to entertain and to please.”

“What do you mean?”

Chansey said your name softly, taking your face into her hands. “I had no say in what he wanted to do to me, or what I to do to him.”

It would have been gentler for her to stick a dagger into your heart and twist it. You thought you had used up all of your tears days prior, but as you sat in that curtained room, you were proven wrong.

You sank into her embrace, feeling Valda wrap her arms around you from behind. Tiny sobs left your throat, but that was it.

“Did he hurt you?” You managed to ask.

She shook her head. “I was worried about hurting you.”

“No.” You pulled away, wiping your face. “You didn’t want to. He…he…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop!” You cried. “Stop it. It’s his…he…what?”

Valda brushed your hair. “May I ask you something?”

“Okay…”

She took a deep breath, dropping her volume. “The three of us and all of King’s Landing knows that the war has already started, it is just a matter of time before it comes here. One of the captain’s my brother works for has offered us passage out of the city; I am allowed to bring one other person.”

“How? You asked first. “They’re not letting any ship in or out of King’s Landing.”

Valda smirked. “Who says they won’t?”

“What?”

“No matter.” She shook her head. “We will make for Pentos first, and then after, everyone may go to where they desire.”

“That-that will take weeks-.”

“-Weeks to be free over years of possible suffering.” She said your name. “You do not need to say yes…but please think of it.”

Your eyes drifted to Chansey. “Are you not jealous?”

She smiled. “When she thought you were in paradise with the prince, she asked me. My answer is no; my life is in King’s Landing, whether the Targaryens want to make it a living hell or not.”

The offer was tempting…start a new life, leave everything behind and be anyone you wished to be. Still…

“My grandmother.” You stated. “What of her?”

She sighed. “You stay with her or leave without her.”

“But-but is there any way you can speak with your brother? You mustn’t be letting on too many people-.”

“-They are sailors making a profit off of people’s fears.” She interrupted. “Where they are merciful in the offer, they are still greedy.”

It was then that it hit you; the genuine possibility of leaving her behind. What were you to do? She couldn’t take care of herself, but what would happen if the Greens lost? What if they won?

How much of Aemond’s vow was true?

Would it be kinder to tell her you were leaving, or just running away?

Would she even notice?

“When can I give my answer?” You asked.

She swallowed thickly. “We’re leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”

So…no time to ponder what to do. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands and nodded. “My presence or lack thereof will be my answer.”

“I understand.” She held your face in her hands, saying your name. “The third tower on the left of the Iron Gate. That is where we shall meet. Do what you must.”

You embraced her and then Chansey as if your final answer was that you were staying; it wasn’t, but you decided to act as if it was. The whole day had exhausted you, and you didn’t even want to try to find Sylvi; what would you have even said to her? So, you merely made your way back to your house.

You sat there on your bed, holding yourself and pretending your arms were someone else’s; but whose? Gigi? Valda? Your Mother? …Aemond?

Sighing, you had gone over in your head for the hundredth time the endless possibilities of either staying or going.

If you stayed, no matter what, there would be war.

If you left, no matter what, there would be war.

If you stayed, Aemond would possibly keep his promise and treat you like a queen once he was king (though, he never promised you would be the queen).

If you left, you could travel outside of King’s Landing and perhaps be the first in your family to ever do so; see the beauty of all of Westeros.

If you stayed, you could die (but you’d be with Gigi).

If you left, you could die (but you’d be with Valda).

And those were the thoughts that flooded your mind for hours, even when the day bled into night, and with the absence of the sun, came the coldness of the moon.

You got up once you began to shiver, and the blankets weren’t enough to shield you from the freezing air. You pulled out the top drawer of your dresser, pulling out the few clothes you had to layer up.

Something blue fell to the ground with a ‘clang!’

Looking down, it shined in your eyes, blinding you momentarily. You bent down and picked it up.

The sapphire…the forgotten sapphire.

Just as soon as the air had left your lungs, it returned with vigor. You left your room, and knocked on the door of Gigi’s. You didn’t wait for her answer before barging in.

She lay on the bed, knitting and looking up at you.

“Vivi?” she questioned. “What is it?”

You showed her the gem in the palm of your hand, and asked quietly as if you were a child again. “Would you like to visit Dorne with me?”

You didn’t sleep that night; and perhaps that is horrible, but you are still alive. After packing lightly, you and Gigi left an hour before dawn; having enough time to quietly navigate the streets of King’s Landing, all the while avoiding the City Watch, and helping Gigi.

Once you arrived at the third tower on the left of the Iron Gate, you saw perhaps four people there in total. All bearing similar, darkened cloaks that you and Gigi wore.

Immediately, you recognized Valda’s eyes. They were filled with joy for only a moment until they saw Gigi.

She said your name with a warning. “She can’t-.”

“-Let me speak to the captain.” You bargained.

The tallest man among you approached, a straight look on his face. “I assume you are the one Valda requested?”

You nodded.

“So then…why have you brought an old woman with you?”

“Wherever I go, so does she.”

“We cannot-.”

From your pocket, you took the sapphire and held it in front of his eyes that had grown to the size of plates.

“The Eye of the Prince Regent.” You affirmed. “If you wish to not call it that when you sell it for hundreds if not thousands of dragons, that is fine by me. Just know that if you do not take the both of us, I shall return it to Prince Aemond myself and perhaps I shall tell him of who refused to take it.”

It was a horrible thing to say, especially with Valda staring at you as if you were carrying a disease. The captain eclosed his hand in yours that held the jewel, shaking it,

“There’s no need to threaten, now.” His smile tightened. “It’ll just be a tight fit.”

You didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but you didn’t have any other choice than to trust him. Soon after your bargain, the now six of you approached the gates. The captain had paid off one of the guards, because that was the only explanation you could draw from how the gate was opened.

All of you moved swiftly to the beach, and there waiting on the shore, was one of the ships Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had sent to feed the Smallfolk. It had been pillaged clean, and the captain was right; it was certainly a tight fit.

Yet…everything somehow fell into place. You would make way to Sharp Point first, where the captain had a contact and could only hope would give him a bigger ship. Still, just the mere thought of escaping King’s Landing was enough.

You spent nearly a week on that small boat, and it was a miracle you did not run out of food to feed all six of you. You had grown seasick for the first few days, but it soon surpassed.

Your stay in Sharp Point was short. Gratefully, the captain had managed to convince his friend to give him the ship he hoped for.

Not from the kindness of his heart; only from the sapphire he had recently obtained.

Much debate had gone into how long the five of you should stay in Sharp Point to recover from the week long journey. The ship had also gained a few other travelers who wished to board, considering its size.

Once the ship was acquired, it was settled that you would all leave the next morning.

You would make for Pentos first, then Tyrosh, and finally, Sunspear. It would take a month at least, two at most. You assumed that nothing noteworthy would happen on the journey until perhaps a week or two while at sea.

Never did you expect, as you sat above deck with your grandmother on the first day, to watch as Vhagar soared through the sky above you. You didn’t even see Aemond as he rode her.

To the majority of the people on board, it was an hour-long conversation of excitement and fear. To the few who knew of what had happened between you and the Prince Regent…it kept the lot of you up the whole night.

It wasn’t until you passed by another ship a week later, that it was revealed Aemond Targaryen had set fire to Sharp Point. If you had stayed in the city just a day longer…

The thought alone kept you up for two nights.

Nothing else happened until you awoke one morning having to throw up. It perplexed you; you hadn’t gotten sick from the motion of the boat since journeying to Sharp Point. You grew weary after it stayed with you for a few days, assuming it was a sickness.

When no one else showed any signs of illness, it only wore on you even more. Valda had brought the one doctor on board to you, and he confirmed something you always knew but never wanted to speak aloud:

You were with child.

You were a foolish girl; of course you thought he had genuinely loved you, he was the person you gave your maidenhood too. Still, you had Valda and your grandmother to support you through the long days of sickness and hormonal shift, as well as the nights of depression.

Rumors spread across the ship when it had been evident you were pregnant. Luckily, orders from Valda and the captain (because you were the sole reason he had gotten the ship in the first place), commanded that if there were to be any more gossip around the father of your child, they would be thrown overboard.

The captain was bluffing of course, but you knew Valda wasn’t. Still, the rumors began to stop.

It was a long month and a half on that boat, only with a few days on Pentos and Tyrosh. Yet finally, you landed in Sunspear; the capital of Dorne.

To your dismay, Valda wouldn’t be staying with you. Deciding that she enjoyed traversing the sea with her brother, she said it was better for her to stay with him.

“We will see each other again.” She held your hands tightly. “Even if it is when you are holding a swaddling child. There are always rich lords and ladies who wish to spend their holidays in a beautiful place as this.”

You wiped your tears away. “I love you. Please don’t do anything rash to get yourself killed.”

“When have I ever?” She kissed your cheek, walking backwards to still look at you. “Bringing you and Gigi was completely sound.”

With what little money you and your grandmother brought, you secured a room in an all-women’s boarding house. Even with it being only for women…that did not stop them from inviting partners over; men or women.

You had known how free people were with affection and sex in Dorne, yet it was different seeing, hearing, and gods above, even smelling it. Despite working in a brothel since you were essentially a child, it more so off put you how…how happy people were.

It should come as a surprise to no one; not every girl working in a pleasure house wants to be there. Almost every sexual act you witnessed was one where the girl wasn’t so willing or desiring to do. You thought that part of you had been healed with Aemond, and perhaps it was…but of course you felt tainted at the end of all things.

Perhaps you were jealous, perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, or perhaps it was just culture shock.

You never found out what had happened to Sylvi; although, you had a suspicion Aemond had something to do with her disappearance…you do not know how you would handle it if it were ever confirmed.

The one large difference that eased you within Dorne, was their treatment of bastards. Seven Hells, most of the women at the boarding house had bastards, yet were never treated any differently when they would go outside.

Yet…if your child were to be cursed with their father’s white hair…than you weren’t sure how well they would be treated.

You spent more time trying to find Qoren, the man who was Gigi's first love. It did not take long before it was revealed he shared the same name with the current prince of Dorne; making him the grandfather to him.

So there was a reason he had given Gigi a fake name…and there was little chance you would get a meeting with him of all people.

Still, you did not drag your ailing grandmother across the sea only to escape possible prosecution in the Dance of the Dragons (that was what the Smallfolk were calling it as you overheard conversations of whether or not the war would come to Dorne).

With a large amount of luck, you secured a job as a tailor for the prince’s daughters. With a miraculous miracle…you were to be welcomed with a feast.

You brought Gigi without question, wearing both the finest outfits you could find. Another thing about the Dornish was how extravagant in joy their festivities were. Even though it wasn’t anything like a fancy ball you assumed many of the lords and ladies in Kings Landing would host, it did not make you feel less alive.

You had almost forgotten your entire purpose for being at the feast as you socialized with several people, until the music suddenly stopped along with the excitement. At the head of the room where the members of the Martell family sat, you watched as the old Prince Qoren slowly made his way through the crowds of people who were once dancing.

He stopped in front of your grandmother, who was sitting by herself, and kneeled down to be at height with her. In the quietness, everyone heard him utter with his throat growing tight.

“Yelena?”

You’d nearly forgotten that was her true name.

Gigi's mouth parted at the sight of him, and with no shame or hesitance, she gently placed her hand upon his cheek. She smiled.

“I knew your eyes were green.”

20 Years Later

“Mama, may I speak with you?”

Despite your eldest daughter Siobhan, named after your mother, being nine and ten, she still spoke to you with the same gentleness she had as a child.

Oh…and how beautiful she was even then.

She was born with her father’s curly hair that was white as Northern snow, and his mouth; yet, she had your eyes and nose. When she grew up, there was no possibility in hiding who she was; considering no other children or adults for that matter shared her hair.

Stil…with the help of the Martell family, and the overall understanding of the Dornish people, neither you nor Siobhan were ever ridiculed.

When Gigi and Qoren were reunited at the feast, you and she were essentially treated like royalty. You lived in the palace with them, spending most days exploring and learning of your grandmother and her lover’s history as they begun to rekindle their relationship.

They never married though; a mere four moons after they found one another…Gigi died.

To try and soothe yourself and Qoren, you had accepted she passed after fulfilling her lifelong goal to find her true love again and felt safe to finally leave this earth once finished.

You were surprised yourself that your birth had not been premature from the stress…but you had someone else to guide you through your grief.

Evrin Sand was the leader of the Dornish Guard, and close companions with the younger Prince Qoren. When you first met him, he presented himself as stoic and silent. Yet, there was something that attracted you to him.

Call it an interest in mystery, call it your past self being drawn to the quiet ones, but it felt different.

It certainly was different; the more you got to know him, the gentler you found him to be. He smiled more often around you, and he never needed to pull you into private areas so much as to speak with you.

He was the first person you confided to about Aemond while you were pregnant, and he never once judged you. When Siobhan was born, he raised her as if she were his own; after you consented of course.

You knew he had a deeper fondness for you, and you with him. Yet, he understood the torment you went through with Aemond and was patient with you.

Three years later, and after much time for healing, you found yourself marrying him. Not so long after, you were blessed with your first boy, Leandro.

Another three years after that, your son Yeray came. Four years later, Yanette was your first and last daughter with Evrin; deciding that four children was perfect.

She was six when Siobhan entered the dress store you owned, and she immediately ran to her older sister.

“Shivi!” Yanette cheered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Siobhan laughed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she picked her up. “Hello, my little darling! How are you?”

“Mama’s being mean.”

“I’m simply teaching you how to sew a button!” You laughed, standing. “What is it, Siobhan?”

Her smile dropped, and she set her little sister on the ground. “Could you go upstairs and help the ladies with the dresses for the other little girls? I need to speak with mother.”

You knew that if you were to have made the same request, Yanette would throw a tantrum. Yet, because it was her older sister who she aspired to be, she gave no complaint, running up the stairs and leaving the two of you alone.

“What ails you, child?” You questioned yet began to clean up your workspace.

“I don’t know what I want to do with me life.” She sighed, sitting at your desk.

“You are not alone in that.” you tried to comfort, placing rolls of fabric back onto their respected shelves. “I have spoken to numbers of mothers and daughters who both worry about that. Do you remember Lumila? You used to walk to the beach together during holidays and-.”

“-I was thinking of leaving.”

You finally looked at her, and though she stood tall, the moment her eyes met yours, she shrunk.

“Leaving?” You repeated. “Leaving Sunspear?”

“Dorne…” She corrected.

Setting the rest of the fabric down, you placed your hands on your hips, thinking. You had often heard of the fear and grief parents would go through in letting their children go, but never knew you would feel it so immediately.

Wasn’t she just a babe in your arms a day ago? Not even able to open her eyes and gaze upon just how much you loved her?

“Where would you go?” You questioned.

She picked at her nails, and you took her hands into yours, halting her bad habit. “Aunt Valda said I could travel to Essos with her and the cousins…and we would be in King’s Landing too.”

Valda was nearing five and forty, yet she still traveled the same path you both took in your escape from King’s Landing. She had become the captain of the ship after her brother, and had somehow found a husband, birthing a few children of her own.

Of course you were still the closest of friends with her, after all those years.

“When did she tell you that?” You questioned.

“Two moons ago when she last visited.” She explained. “She’ll be here in another one, and who knows if her offer still stands-.”

“-Is it what your heart desires?”

Siobhan titled her head. “What?”

You repeated. “If it is how you want to live your life, who am I to stop you?”

“But I don’t know!” She exploded into tears, and you immediately embraced her. She sobbed. “I don’t want to leave you, and-and father and everyone, but-but-but-!”

Shushing her, you pulled away only to reach for a handkerchief on your desk. You handed it to her and she blew into it until all the snot left her sinuses. She pocketed it, and wiped her eyes.

“Why else are you in such turmoil?” You questioned, knowing it wasn’t simply the question of if she should stay or go.

Siobhan took a shuttering breath, saying softly. “I’ve heard rumors of a boy at Harrenhal…one who shares my hair.”

It wasn’t news to you, although hearing it always brought another thorn into your heart. It was common knowledge that, not long after your departure from King’s Landing, Prince Aemond Targaryen retook the castle Harrenhal from Daemon, as well as the castle’s nurse, Alys Rivers.

As years had passed, it was apparent that there was a possibility in her birthing Aemond’s child after his death. It was only luck that you had heard that rumored uttered years after Siobhan’s birth. If the word had spread quickly…the heartbreak and shock surely would have overtaken you.

He had taken Harrenhal only a few weeks after you left Aemond.

“And you wish to find him…” You finished for her.

She sat down on the steps, and you sat beside her. “It may be pointless, and I may not find him…but I wish to know. I love my home with all my heart, but it also longs to live and breathe in places I have only seen in books and heard from travelers.”

You sighed. “I cannot promise you that people will be as accepting as those in Dorne.”

“And I know that.” She ran a hand through her curls. “Papa has trained me well enough to defend myself, you know this. I will travel with Aunt Valda and her children, so I will never be alone.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I do genuinely love working with you. I love creating the most beautiful gowns, I love going to the beach every day, I love my friends, I love Leandro, and Yeray, and Yannette, and you and papa.”

You giggled, taking her face into your hands. “And we will all still be here when you come back! Shivi, you’re so full of life. You can decide one day you’re tired of me yelling at you in the store and decide to pick up your things and go on an adventure of your own. You can decide too as you’re traveling all of Westeros, whether it’s a moon, or a year, when you want to come home.”

She looked at you as if you were somehow the only person in the world who understood her completely. Then, with a nod, she said.

“Okay.”

Smiling, you kissed her forehead and embraced her once more. It was when she pulled away did Siobhan ask.

“Mama…can I ask about Aemond?”

She never referred to him as her father. It was always easier to speak of him as if he were just the historical figure everyone viewed him as. Yet, it was also strange to do that, knowing that he was a part of her creation.

It was strange for you too.

“Well,” you folded your hands in your lap. “what would you like to know that you already don’t?”

In her defense, you did not tell her that much prior. It wasn’t as if you had much to say in the first place; in hindsight, you only knew him for a month at the most, yet that doesn’t mean your time with him didn’t matter.

Siobhan began. “I know you said he was mean at times, and you thought he would hurt you…but did he love you?”

“…Yes. I like to remember that he did, and it being real.” You answered with a far off look in your eyes. “If I second guess that it was for himself and not for me, then it would tear me apart.”

“And you loved him?”

“I…I think I did. He was the first person to make me feel good, and we had moments where we would just talk, and I’d selfishly wish everyone else in the world turned to dust just so I could have him to myself.”

“Do you think he felt the same?”

You shook your head. “Not in the way I did.”

She drew her eyes away from you, taking it all in. You reached out, holding the back of her head so she would look at you.

“I do not regret any of the time I have spent with him.” You solidified. “It led me to a safer place, and to having you.”

“He wasn’t a good person.” She whispered.

“No.” You shook your head. “He was mistreated as a child, and even when he was older, but you’re right, he wasn’t a good man.”

“Still, I…I wish I could’ve met him. Is that bad?”

“No.” Was your immediate response.

She smiled. “I mean, besides the obvious, it’s for one reason.”

“And what is that?” You chuckled.

“I’m really a princess.” She said with false pride. “And if Aemond was meant to be king, do you think he would’ve let me ascend to the throne?”

You sighed, both out of playful and genuine surprise. “Shivi, if you keep looking into ‘In another world’s-.”

“-Then what world would it be for it to have been true?”

“…In another world where his mother and father were different.”

She looked at you in question. “As in…not the king and queen?”

“No just,” You shook your head. “different choices. Even so, perhaps many things would’ve been changed for your father to be content in being the youngest.”

You don’t know if it was ever possible for Aemond to have not been blinded by a lust for power. You liked to think so, but the more you dwelled on it…the more you began to believe there was no universe it which it was possible.

“I understand.” She said softly. “I just wished to know.”

You combed her hair through your fingers. “And there is no harm in curiosity. So…do you know if you want to leave or not?”

Siobhan sighed, laying her head in your lap. “I don’t. At least I have another moon before Aunt Valda comes to visit.”

“You will.” You comforted. “I have faith you’ll know what to do.”

She hummed, and the two of you stayed in silence together for perhaps another minute before your eldest daughter rose to her feet.

“I promised my friends I’d visit them in the market this afternoon. I’ll see you at supper?”

You nodded. “I’ll make your favorite tonight.”

“I love you!” she kissed your cheek before waving goodbye and rushing out the door. There you were, alone again with your own mind.

It drifted back to when you had heard the news of Aemond’s death. It had been nearly a year since you lived in Sunspear, holding Siobhan was she was just a moon old. When the Dance of the Dragons ended, there wasn’t much of a celebration or mourning, for Dorne had decided not to participate at the start of it all.

So, to hear the news that the Prince Regent Aemond had died spoken so suddenly…you felt your body grow cold. There was a shame in admitting that some of you still loved him.

How couldn’t you though? You held the proof of it in your arms as you cried. You dreamt of him that night, and it was strange. He didn’t do anything but stare at you.

Night after night, you would see him. Sometimes he would talk to you, other times, touch you; again, most of all, he would just look at you.

Apart of you felt like you only slept just to see him.

Yet now, as you sit in your dress shop, and hear your youngest daughter (the proof of Evrin’s unconditional and unselfish devotion to you) rush down the stairs in excitement…

If you were given the choice to go back to the night you first met Aemond Targaryen at the well, you would not change a single thing.

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