#feeling conflicted again which seems to be the usual for me these days

[ozarkthedog]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader, pwp, overstimulation, crybaby!reader, aomine is an asshole lmao, 18+

"You're such an asshole."

Your words muffle against his shoulder as you say them - weakened significantly by the way your arms shake when you try and so much as push yourself up.

Aomine laughs. You can feel the reverb in his chest, arms resting comfortably behind his head - a silent refusal to compromise, not even pretending that he'll give you what you want without begging.

"No shit," His words lack any real bite as you press your cheek to his shoulder. "That's what you get for being pissy with me all day,"

You frown. You almost think you could cry but you stubbornly want to refuse. You reject the very idea of his amusement if you did. Aomine isn't the type to coo at you sympathetically - he won't even pretend. You think if you broke out into a fit of sobs because he's being pointed about not putting his dick inside of you, he would laugh far before he'd give you what you want.

It's the thought of that that ends up pushing you to tears really. You manage to hold it in for a few minutes but thinking about it stirs your frustration all over again. He's so calm it's agitating, his heartbeat smooth and steady - the smell of his skin and his strong, broad chest. He's comfortable, stamina ensuring he hasn't even broken a sweat.

That annoying bastard is relaxed after all of that, though he's still so obviously hard.

"You're crying? That fast?" He sounds elated. "Do you really want me fuck you that badly you're gonna cry like a kid over it?"

"Shut up. I hate you," And yes - the answer is you are and yes you do. It's the only thing you want. "Asshole. Jerk."

He laughs. "Don't wanna hear that from you when you threw a fit at me this morning over nothing. Do you really need me to fuck do it? You can do it yourself pretty easy."

You shoot daggers at him, at his demeanor - at the way he still seems totally unbothered. He knows you can't. He's the reason you can't.

Aomine's version of conflict resolution usually resorts to sex. Not all the time, but for petty arguments that need to resolve tension - he leans into it. Worse? It usually works. It was his solution today too - when you woke up in a worse mood than normal and took it out on him when he didn't deserve it.

You apologized to him afterwards but you didn't get out of your mood. Half-past noon, he simply hauled you into the bedroom and locked the door. He felt slighted still and said he had a good way to take care of it.

You've cum more than a few times With his hands, with his mouth, pushing up against the ridges of his abs. You've been at it so long you're exhausted and you've cum so fucking much you can feel your own wetness clinging to your skin. Silky cunt sticky from arousal, dripping and throbbing dully. You can't hold yourself upright, can barely move - but there's still that deep, frustrating ache in your gut.

Still that horrible feeling of emptiness gnawing at you. You haven't been edged, but it's not what you want. It's not scratching the itch for you. It's not enough to cum without him fucking you.

And he knows that. Better than anyone. You never really cared before but Aomine is different. Aomine makes it feel good. Fucks you well and fucks you deep - makes you cum while he's still inside which feels incredible.

Somewhere along the line - he must've figured out the same thing you did. And somewhere along the line, he deliberately decided that his best course of action was making you beg for it.

He doesn't really care about your fits. He just likes to fuck with you.

Another sniffle and wave of tears wracks over you as you press yourself up against his neck. Who care if you're being whiny? You're annoyed and you're horny.

He's not even going to do anything about it.

"Are you trying to get sympathy points so I'll fuck you instead of making you do it? I'm not that soft-hearted, you brat." His words don't match his tone of his voice, his hands. "And you're not very convincing."

"Shut up. I should've gone out with Kuroko years ago. He would never make me cry."

"Watch it." He warns. "He couldn't fuck you like I do anyway."

"It'd feel better than you not fucking me at all. And he's nicer."

He rolls his eyes.

"You get a little worked up and you're thinking about being unfaithful. I don''t fuck you enough, you get moody with me.." He spouts off, shaking his head. He moves his arms lower, throwing one on your waist. "If you need my dick this badly, don't you think you should just ask me for it like a good girl? Then I wouldn't have to make you cry."

"Dai-kun," Your voice is huffy still, even to your own ears. "Daiki,"

"Tell me what you're making a fuss over."

This is humiliating. You're going to strangle him as soon as your head is on straight.

"I want you to fuck me, you jerk." You curl your hands up at his chest and barely push yourself up to look at him. You're expecting him to look smug but there's more sincerity there and it makes you choke. "Want your dick inside me. Do it for me."

"Spoiled brat." He manhandles you into position. Moves you until your hips are hovering right over the thick tip of his cock. Your body shudders responsively, forearms shaking from effort as you attempt to hold yourself up while Aomine sinks you down onto his length. "Can't even bother saying please."

In one swift motion, all at once - Aomine forces his cock into your warm, wet cunt.

It knocks the air out of your lungs, your waist going weak from the sheer arousal of finally getting what you need. Your eyes shoot open, stars in your vision as you tremble violently. The familiar pressure in your abdomens makes your knees weak, pussy throbbing and aching as Aomine groans and bottoms out insde of you. Elation swells inside of you, pure arousal making your brain feel like static.

You moan so loud it startles you. Relief floods your system as you cling onto Aomine's shoulder and forgive him so immediately it embarrasses you. His hand smooths over your sides and your lower back - holding your spine.

He kisses you. Neck and shoulder before kissing your lips, so unexpectedly gentle until you melt into him.

When you pull away to face him, he pinches your cheek hard making you yelp.

"Not so hard to be honest, is it? Now stop whining so I can fuck you forreal."

[shadowbriar]

Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter — Your Initial

Synopsis: After one too many mistakes, too many sour outcomes he had to bring to the boss' door, Dex knew that the thin safetynet he thought he was under was just a mere imagination.

wrote this on my phone cause I'm out on a trip. will fix each and every mistake once I get my hands on a laptop.

Dex' hands roam around her body as if they haven't travelled every inch of her skin. His kisses were desperate, needy, and more vigorous with every pause of breath he took. His figure pins her against the shelves, doing its best to eliminate as much space as possible. The storage room was crammed enough as it is, but even with the close proximity, there seems to be planets between them, still.

His head was pounding. The ringing in his ears would only grow even louder with each text he received from the Kingpin. He knew that he's messed up. Too many tasks left unfinished, targets slipped, and businesses unsealed, that it would only be a matter of time until he gets some disciplinary action. Until he would become another name in Fisk's list. Until he, or worse, she, would become the one chased by the crosshair.

At first, Dex revels in the power he gained when Fisk scouted him. He enjoyed the freedom he had, standing above the law as he unleashed the worst kinds of horror to anyone he needed to take care of. But after one too many mistakes, too many sour outcomes he had to bring to the boss' door, he knew that the thin safetynet he thought he was under was just a mere imagination.

There's nobody he could turn to, no enforcement that he could seek help from cause everything was owned by Fisk. Everyone works for him, whether or not they realise it.

"Dex, hey," she calls softly between their kisses, her giggles trailing her voice "I'm not going anywhere, we can take a breath for a minute,"

He forces a smile, "Why, you don't enjoy my kisses?"

"On the contrary, I adore them a lot," she replies, resting her hands around his neck as she takes a soft peck to the tip of his nose "which is why I'd very much prefer to savour it,"

Dex nods, placing a kiss to her forehead.

She watches him intently. The hue under his eyes was looking more noticeable. Fatigue was dripping out of him, and that displeased frown was etched on his lips. Something was bothering him.

"Trouble sleeping?" she begins to ask, her fingers combed through the blond strands of his hair "has Hattley been giving you a hard time?"

"You can say that," Dex sighs, leaning into her gentle touch "there's this.. task, that I keep on failing, and I'm pretty sure they're going to hang me by the neck if I fail again the next time,"

"What kind of task?"

He chuckles, shaking his head, "You know I can't tell you, it's confidential,"

"You and your mysteries," rolling her eyes, she comments with a slight frown "you know, maybe it'll make you feel better to shine light on some of these secrets,"

He remains silent, watching her with no expression.

"Starting with us, maybe? We can stop going to storage rooms and just.. you know, be a normal couple out in the day," she coaxes, her finger now travels down to his undereye, gently caressing the bags that were more visible than the usual "maybe that'll give your mind a little more peace?"

Dex lets out an exasperated sigh. The muscles on his jaws were tensed now, veins more visible on his forehead. He was conflicted. He knew just how much it meant for her, to be out in public with their relationship, but it would only serve as putting bounty on her head. At this point, he couldn't even be too sure that their relationship was still a business of two. With Fisk's eyes on every corner and Murdock's alien abilities, Dex could only do so much to try and keep her under wraps.

Silently, he places his hands on her cheeks. The gesture was firm and a little authoritative, but she remains silent and follows his lead. He eyes her straight, a total contrast to the gentle and uncertain stare she gives back at him.

"I love you," he begins, his tone dogmatic as if it was a universal fact "I would burn the world to the ground, if it means saving you. If it means keeping you safe from all those filth on the street. There is no one, and I mean by no one, that I would not sacrifice for you,"

Her brows knit, confused as to how their conversation could take such a turn.

"I just— With everything going on, Fisk on that hotel, Daredevil going rampant, I just don't think putting us out there would do us good,"

"What does Fisk and Daredevil have to do with us?" she questions, clearly at lost on what he's trying to say "if you're worried about my safety, I have my gun with me at all times, and I doubt I'll be in any of their priority list. I'm just a nobody,"

"But you're not a nobody to me, and I'm not willing to take that risk," he argues adamantly "look, we can have this discussion some other time, okay? Not now,"

It was obvious that she has more words to spill, more arguments to give, but the despair Dex shows was a little too concerning for her to prolong the discussion, so she surrenders with a nod. Forcing a smile and placing a kiss to his cheek to help untangle the tension on his muscles.

Dex smiles a little, showing gratitude for the gentle gesture before his lips find their way back to her neck, "What's your plan tonight?"

"I don't know, nothing on the schedule yet," she answers.

"How does a dinner date, sound? Been a while since we visited that favourite restaurant of yours,"

"Yeah? Tonight?" she asks, intrigued "wouldn't they call you to watch over Fisk?"

Dex pauses his kisses, lips pursed as he gives it a thought, "They haven't called me for anything, so I should be free for the night," he pulls her closer by the waist, the corners of his lips turning upwards as that gleeful grin returns to her face "so, what do you say?"

"Pick me up at seven?"

He nods, his finger reaches to the 'D' initial hanging on her neck that he got her a couple months back, "You got it, Princess,"

—-

Dex' hair was dishevelled. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, eyes bloodshot from the panic that's starting to poison his veins. He knew that he's jabbed on the beast a little too frequently lately, but he never would have imagined that he needed to fix everything now.

The stoic welcome in Fisk's tone was gone when he entered the suite. There was a sense of disapproval in the superior's expression, a little more firmness in the order he's given that it shook all the confidence Dex has left in himself. As if there was a silent hidden message that he should understand: last chance, or he's out for good.

Now Dex may never fear for his safety. He's far more capable to eliminate anyone, let alone defend himself, but with Fisk and all the bidding he's done for him, Dex couldn't be certain of the degree his boss would be willing to commit should he make another mistake tonight. And with her in the equation, he knew that there could never be a risk small enough to overlook.

And so he remained quiet when Fisk gave him the mission to go to the abandoned building on the other side of town. There, on the twenty-second floor, he would find a parcel in the middle of the empty ballroom. The parcel itself was of nothing. His main objective was to neutralise Matt Murdock who would be on the move to get his hands on the parcel first and bring his head to Fisk.

There was some knot tightening in his stomach, telling him that something wasn't right when there's a whole meeting with Fisk's past allies downtown. Every criminal, every drug lords that has ever worked with Fisk would be in that building and Dex knew just how crucial it is for his boss to strengthened his crew. Most of the bureau agents are sent to secure the event, and he was fairly certain that he would be called last minute to add another layer of protection for the meeting, yet here he was, running back to his apartment to get the daredevil suit before having to run to the other side of town.

His thumb dials for her number the moment he gets to his apartment. It was 6:24. There would be no chance for him to followup with that dinner now and the last thing he needs to wrap the night with is standing her up for a date he initiated.

"Hey, Princess," Dex greets when his call went straight to voice mail "listen, I think we have to do a raincheck with that dinner tonight. Something came up with Fisk and I can't bail myself out. I'm really sorry, I'll make it up to you, okay? Call me back when you get this. Bye,"

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should send another voice message just to tell her that he loves her. Something about today makes him want to say it a million times more than yesterday. Neither of them were ever this clingy. The word typically only roll out of their tongues when they were dancing on the bed, but there's this urge to be more vocal about what he feels for her today. A certain kind of need that he was never familiar with. And if Dex was an honest man, he'd admit that this feeling scares him shitless.

Pushing his pride aside, he types in for one last text before he opens his safe and put the daredevil suit on.

I love you, call me back. D

—-

When Matt got to the abandoned building, his confusion only grew bigger as the ticking he heard from the parcel was just of a decoy. It was just some cheap electrical circuit with materials of a bomb yet none of the circuits were connected to each other. Next to it was a gold necklace with the initial D. It evidently belongs to someone as the perfume of its owner was still strong on the item, yet Matt couldn't recall anyone who wears such personalised scent.

Before Matt could give his ponder a little more time, Dex' throw of a blade nearly hit the back of his head had he not move in time. The two men then begin to entangle themselves into a real fight, kicking the parcel and its content during their commotion.

Dex' punches were getting more and more violent. His scream animalistic and the beating of his heart was so erratic Matt wonders if it would give in first before he could actually knock the phoney vigilante down.

"You smell like her," Matt notes when he got a whiff of the scent from Dex.

"Who?" Dex asks but his tone was more of a demand. From the corner of his eye, he could see something gleaming under his foot. The gold necklace was reflecting the dim light of the building and when he picked the item up, Dex blood went cold "how did you get this?"

"It was in the box with that fake bomb," Matt answers through his cough of blood.

Dex grabbed him by the collar, spitting on his face, "I swear to God if you touch her—"

"It was in the box," Matt repeats, his tone steady and unwavering "It was Fisk,"

Dex dropped Matt to the ground with a loud thud. He takes a few steps back, letting the new information to sink in. The necklace dangling by his hand feels heavier by the second. Every horrific scenarios start to play in his head. What was the necklace doing here? How did Fisk get it? What's happened to her?

Abandoning his mission, Dex frantically runs out of the building. He couldn't care less about failing another task, about facing the consequence of his ill-delivered results. He tosses the daredevil helmet away as he jumps into his car. He rummages his bag, desperately trying to find his phone as he ignites the vehicle.

"Pick up, baby, pick up," he desperately prays as his foot steps on the gas.

"Dex? Hi, I was just—"

"Where are you?" he cuts in, yelling at her in panic "tell me, where the hell are you right now?!"

"I'm at the town business meeting thing with everyone else," she explains, her voice slightly distorted from the bad signal "The whole bureau was sent to secure this meeting. I was just about to call you cause Hattley said you should be here too. Where are you?"

"Baby, listen to me, okay? I want you to listen to me carefully, get out of that damn building, okay? I'm on my way there, I'll be there in a minute just— Get out of that building now,"

A confused scoff escaped her lips, brows now furrowed from the illogical demand he was making, "What are you talking about? I'm literally in charge of the main event, I can't just leave the building,"

"They put you— What?"

"I know, it's crazy. It should've been Ramirez, but Hattley said he's needed elsewhere so they appointed me last minute,"

Dex was pulling his hair by now. He should've seen it. Fisk puts her there while driving him as far as possible so he could put her in the open. Taunting and mocking him with just how little control he has over his life. Dex was never in charge of anything, it was always Fisk, and Fisk only.

"Dex, are you there?" she asks after a minute of his silence "listen, the meeting is going to start anytime soon, so I won't be on my phone—"

"You're not listening to me! Get the fuck out of that building now!" Dex yells in frustration "run out of it, jump if you need to, just fucking get out of there!"

"I can't jump out, I'm literally on the twenty-second floor!" she argues, completely missing the irony of her position "what is wrong with you?! Just— get here and we'll talk about it, okay?"

"No, there's no time! Just listen to me, please," he begs, choking on his own tears now as he's starting to see the building she's at "please, I'll explain everything later, just get out of there for now, please. I love you, please, listen to me,"

She was starting to feel conflicted. The event is starting any minute now and she would never see any bigger opportunity to secure her position in the bureau more than now, but the begging Dex makes is twisting her chest. He was full on crying and choking out of his words now, and it's certainly not a familiar thing for her to see. Something was wrong and she might be in the middle of it.

"Okay, okay, I'll come out," she finally gives in, moving her feet to the exit door "The things I do for you, Benjamin Po—"

Her words hung on the air as the ground shook. Dex watches with his own eyes how the building that was just a few blocks away from him exploded. Fire catches up as soon as the blast happened and within seconds, the whole building collapse from the violent destruction.

People were running away from the scene as the air turns dusty and grey, yet Dex jumped out of his car to run closer. His feet burns, tripping from all the debris that now laid on the road from the explosion. His eyes stings, but he couldn't look away from the blaze that has engulfed the building. He watches as fire dances against the concrete walls, turning everything it touches burnt and ashen.

And as Dex' feet gave in, as he kneels on the road a few metres away from the building, he knew that he is out for good.

[feitanii-ll]

“ GUMI’S HOME!! “

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt.3

✭ Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader (romantically), Megumi x reader (platonically)

✭ synopsis: Megumi grows to learn that he does have a family. Or, raising Megumi with Satoru.

✭ Contains: SEASON TWO SPOILERS! (I think it’s common knowledge by now, though. HEAVVYY FLUFF, more bickering between Satoru and little Megumi. Megumi being sassy again, more use of y/n in this chapter, tiiiiny angst BUT IT GETS HAPPY AGAIN. GUMI IS SUCH A CUTIE PATOOTIE.

September, 2007. Two days prior.

It’s another quiet night in your home. Far away from the bustling city, in a comfortably still neighbor with the right amount of peace that you just adore during times like this. It’s a home that you’ve made yours and decorated to your accommodation. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a backyard— not to mention paid off completely, thanks to your adoring man, Satoru Gojo.

Much to his pleasure, you’ve made it your own personal haven. Adorning it with the things that both you and your sorcerer boyfriend enjoy.

Because it’s only the two of you, you never found reason to utilize any of the other rooms, opting to keep it as an emergency guest room (though with how protective Satoru is over you, you knew he’d never lead anyone over to your house). And so, you opt to only use your shared room, which leads to now.

The first time you hear about fushiguro’s child is in your room, getting ready for a night with your partner. It’s been a while since he’s slept over at this house, so you were properly excited to finally have him all to yourself. But before the cuddles and kisses could begin, he walks over to where you’re seated at your oak wood vanity, body language you’ve never seen before in your man before now.

You turn to face him, taking in all his pretty glory— hair down and damp from his shower. You note his clothing, smiling shyly at the just-a-tad-bit-tight tank top that exposes his defined arms. And in true Satoru fashion, his lounge sweats that seem a bit too pricey to be simply for sleeping. And as much as you want to take in the glorious sight of him, you refrain as you take note of the way he rubs at the back of his neck and leans against the wooden vanity, facing you with an unreadable expression. He looks so.. conflicted?? And that piques your curiosity and worry.

“Oh, my.. someone’s stressing,” Satoru is comforted by the sound of your voice as you try to lighten the mood. You can tell, as he’s always been an expressive person. “What’s the matter?”

At your question, he sucks in a breath between his teeth, as if unsure what to say.

“Just.. you’re not gonna believe what the hell happened today. I- I didn’t tell you I was doing this, because I didn’t think you’d approve—“

“Satoru…” you warn in a low tone, though you were really just hoping that he hadn’t gotten himself into any unexpected trouble.

“Hey, I didn’t even explain yet! It isn’t even bad, really,” his body goes back to his usual animated way, which relives you. “It’s just.. I met the kid.. his kid. I found him.”

The words were so bland out of context. But it takes nothing for you to connect the dots. Despite this, your voice still calls out, hesitant,

“You… you talking about fushiguro’s kid?”

Your eyes go wide in shock when the man nods his head, and you stand up.

“Satoru Gojo, you went looking for him?” You ask in disbelief.

“Listen, it didnt go as bad as you’re thinking it did!” He raises his hands up defensively, “I swear, I really just wanted to meet the kid, but turns out he’s like, super strong. I can feel it.”

“Who cares?? What the hell were you gonna tell him, huh? That you killed his father?” You hissed, eyes still widened in shock.

“That’s just the funny thing—“

“It’s not funny!”

“No no, I mean,” he begins to backpedal before he pauses, chuckling to himself and wiping a pale hand down his face, much to your dismay. “Baby, please, listen to me when I say this.” He sighs, taking your hand. You weren’t upset at him, and he knew that. You weren’t just surprised by his uncalled for antics, like usual.

“I’m listening.” you pout, looking up into the bright eyes of your man. His hand squeezed yours and he sighs.

“He didn’t care.” He states, sounding just as surprised as you’re about to be.

“…what? So, you told him.?” You squint.

“No no, I was going to, but, before I could even say the man’s name he just straight up said that he didn’t care. According to him, he didn’t even know him all that well. He never saw him, and doesn’t care to, and he told me that he isn’t interested in whatever he has going on. He’s completely stoic.” Satoru explains the story, passionately shocked as if it was just the most mind boggling thing in the world.

You’re surprised too, unable to believe that a boy so young could be so… cutthroat. And about his own parents. Though, you took into consideration the circumstances between the two.

Though, if you were being honest, you didn’t really care much about the zenin either. More focused on the young boy.

“Well, where is he now? Is he in school? Does he have a home? Oh my goodness, how old is he now?”

Your questions don’t surprise Satoru, as you’re always one to worry too damn much about others.

“The kids fine.. he’s hellbent on being independent. And, if I’m not mistaken, he lives with someone. I heard a young girls voice when I was walkin’ away. A… sister maybe—“ he ponders, and you gasp, distraught.

“Oh, my goodness..” you press a hand to your heart, “Satoru, you have to do something. I mean, how old is he? About.. 6? That boy needs some stability. And if he does have a sister, so does she—“ you state firmly, and Satoru sighs.

“Honey, I’m sure they’re fine. He’s a tough kid.”

“Yeah. A kid, ‘Toru. Just because he’s “strong” and has some sorcerer ability, does not mean he’s safe. A lot of kids get their abilities at a young age. Including me.” You lift a brow, tilting your head knowingly. “And you. And that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a… a figure, in his life.”

Satoru takes in your words, gnawing the inside of his cheek.

At his silence, you sigh and lean in, kissing his cheek and whispering against it.

“The least you can do is check up on him… like you did today. Get to know him a bit more, and about his situation, you know? Take him to the park, the arcade— ice cream, something, just—“ you sigh, and you feel the familiar weight of his hand sliding gently up your back to gently rub at your shoulder, as a touch of reassurance.

“Okay, oookay, my dear,” he hushes you with his words, trying to soothe your ramblings. “Always so passionate, my love.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. Then your nose. Then your lips before pulling back with a smile.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him, alright? I’ll kidnap him if I have to. I’ll be totally subtle about it, too.” He grins.

“Yeah..” your brows furrow and your expression drops, “why do I feel like you’re lying?”

He simply laughs again and scoops you up into his arms, peppering your face with kisses. Your cheek muscles tighten as your smile slowly grows at how much it tickles. You hug him back, knowing you’re stuck in the sorcerer’s grasp (not that you’re complaining) for the rest of the night.

You hum in delight, closing your eyes. You know your man will make the right choice.

September, 2007. Present day.

The rain continues to pour, thick raindrops slapping at each and every window pane. You and Satoru are sat on the couch, facing a tiny Megumi fushiguro who sits just angled from the couch, nursing a cup of hot chocolate, clad in some fresh new clothes that were just a bit too big for him. They were the smallest of your clothes that you could find and allow him to wear until his clothes were finished drying in the laundry room.

“…I guess I forgot my house key at school. Tsumiki’s at a sleep over, and I don’t know anyone else.”

You squint your eyes as you listen intently to the boys explanation as to why he has arrived here so abruptly. Such a coincidence that Satoru had given him the address just yesterday whilst on their little mochi excursion. You also can’t help but realize just how right Satoru was when he told you that Megumi is very nonchalant and stoic, unless he’s bickering with the older man.

“Man.. I’m sorry the days has been so hard on you. You know, you’re more than welcomed to stay here until the rain lets up!” You smile, resting a hand on satorus knee and patting it slightly, a silent cue to get him to add on.

“Of course! You’re welcomed here whenever ya want! The three of us will get along just well!” He smiles, animated and genuinely excited to have the new, tiny company.

“When the rain lets up tomorrow, we can head to the school and see if your key is there.

Megumi’s face shifts from blank to annoyed in a second.

“That’s just the thing..” he grumbles, “it’s Friday.”

For a second, the words don’t really make sense, until you think hard. They’re out of school.

“Oh, shit. School’s out for that little renovation period in the city, yeah?” You turn to Satoru. A small part of the city was closed for some slight improvements in the streets, meaning every building within that vicinity is meant to be closed for the time being.

“Oh, you’re right..” Satoru trails off. “And that’s supposed to be for—“

“The month.” The bundle of annoyance frowns harder. Both you and Satoru share a look.

“A month, huh.. ? surely your sister will be back by then, yes?” He asks, and Megumi freezes.

“Riiiight?” Satoru presses again, and Megumi huffs, dipping his head almost in shame.

“No…”

“No?” You question, “I thought she was just at a friend’s house?”

“I lied… she’s out the country for an exchange program. She’s staying for a quarter, and won’t be back until November.” He mumbles quickly, head still dropped. “Sorry.. I didn’t think this would happen.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you glance between Satoru and the smaller boy.

“Wh, what was the plan while she was gone?” You question. Who the hell was taking care of those two??

“Hm? What do you mean? Just the usual..” he lifts his head, face still a bit pouty in embarrassment. “Go to school, come straight home.”

“—alone? That’s extremely dangerous. What about food? Bills? Fucking, basic hygiene?” You question harder, and the other two can sense your growing frustration at the situation.

“I mean.. I eat at school..” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but he never realized how bad it sounded coming out of his own mouth. You feel your heart sink at the ridiculous idea that this boy and his sister were surviving off of nothing but school lunch. You didn’t know much about Toji fushiguro, or the woman he married, but what you did know was that no child deserved to starve and go hungry. Not when it could be prevented.

You look to Satoru, and to your relief, his face reflects the seriousness of the news.

“So, you’ve been scraping by.. how?” Satoru questions.

Megumi shrugs, suddenly not feeling too keen on drinking the hot chocolate you’ve prepared for him.

“Tsumiki usually deals with that stuff.”

“So what was the plan now that she’s away?”

There’s a slight pause, and the beat of silence is all you need to know before you grip Satoru’s bicep and give him a pleading look. He soothes your worried look with a kiss to the head before facing Megumi.

“Kid, where’s your sister?” Satoru asks, and the boy’s brows furrow.

“Some American school…” he mumbles, thinking hard. “New York, i believe. Other than the education, she wanted to find a better paying job. So that when she comes back, we’ll be set for the year.”

“Alright. First thing tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane and heading over there.” He states firmly, and you nod in agreement right along with him.

Megumi is surprised at just how… casually he could up and buy a plane ticket over seas. Was this dude made of money?

“I’m bringing her back, and it isn’t up to discussion as to where you two will be staying from now on.” Satoru stands from his spot beside you, immediately reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone, typing furiously. He’d probably skip a day of class again, to which you’d have to make up an excuse for him to your teachers for the umpteenth time.

Megumi’s eyes follow Satoru as he bustles out of the room before shifting back to you.

There’s nothing but silence between the two of you for a moment. With the exception of the continuous rain from outside the home. Tiny nails scratch at the porcelain mug, almost nervously before he sets it down on the coffee table. You watch Megumi swallow as he gathers his next words, and as you take in his body language, you note that this is the most expressive he’s been since you’ve met him.

“Does that.. am I really staying?” He questions, and you’ve never seen him look so confused. Brows furrowed in pure disbelief.

You hum, nodding, “Satoru and I have made up our minds. You’re six, Megumi. Scraping by, it’s.. it’s no way for a boy like you to live. Your sister may be in a bit of a shock when she finds out, but I’m not backing down on this. I will not, in good conscience, let you and your sister stay alone.”

He continues to stare, as if he still didn’t believe you. And maybe he didn’t.

You sigh, standing up and approaching the longer chair he’s sat in and crouch down to his level.

And god, does Megumi hate it when people try to get on his level. To try and understand him, like they could ever understand whats going through his mind. As if anyone knows.

But the way you do it… he doesn’t feel the arrogance in the position from you, compared to other people. It doesn’t stop him from continuing his frown, but he feels more inclined to pay attention to what you’re about to say. Because… your eyes show no signs of deceit. Which is what Megumi looks for the most.

“Megumi…” you trail off.

“—Why?”

You go to speak, but he beats you to it. And you don’t need to ask again to understand his question.

“Because… because I care. We care, Satoru and I. Maybe we weren’t the best of friends with your father. And no, we don’t get anything out of doing what we’re doing for you. But who the hell cares when you’re living in a beat up home somewhere, Megumi? We want you safe.”

And it’s about as simple as that. You cared. And it seems Megumi excepts that answer.

He watches as you smile at him and move your hand up to ruffle his hair. He doesn’t flinch away— but there is a burning behind his eyes and an ache in his tiny heart that he can’t seem to explain to himself as it’s happening.

“I’m so sorry, Megumi.. for the way things are. But Satoru and I are gonna make it better, yes?”

He feels your hand slide from his spiky hair and to his cheek. The action is confusing until he realizes just how oddly warm they become. Confused, he goes to speak, but feels his voice is constricted, and his nose is nasally.

“Oh, megs..” you giggle a little, “don’t cry.”

Cry?

Was that what he was doing? Hell, he’s pretty sure that the last time he’s ever cried was when he was pushed out of the womb. He’s never cried, and the thought of breaking down in front of a stranger makes him hide his face in his much too large shirt— you giggle, a little louder this time as you scoop him up into your arms in a comforting hug. To which he accepts without any resistance.

“Oh, ‘gumi.. now I’m gonna cry!” You faux weep, pouting. Though the moment was definitely hitting you dead in the feels.

“Who’s cryin’ In here??” You hear from behind you.

Satoru walks up from behind, shock and an amused smile on his face as he watches the scene before him. His own heart aches at the sight of the little boy, but he knows this is a joyful moment rather than a sad one. Megumi was on the right path to living better.

You glance at the sorcerer who smiles, taking a seat on the arm of the couch and gently ruffling the boys hair as he continues to hide his blotchy face into his shirt.

Things were looking to be just fine.

──────

You and Satoru stand in the doorframe of the guest room, watching as Megumi shuffles into the small twin and under the blanket. You pout, leaning against Satoru’s chest as you speak,

“Sorry it’s not the best. We hardly ever use this room.”

To you, the room was probably the blandest in the house. Simply used for emergency. Nothing but a twin bed stuffed into the corner of the room, a cheap nightstand, and a lamp inhabited the space, much to your dissatisfaction. Your priorities is were to 1.) being Tsumiki back. And, 2.) accommodate to the two accordingly. Satoru squeezes your shoulder.

“One step at a time, babe. He’ll be just fine for the night! We two can stay in tomorrow and do some shopping with the card while I’m airborne, yes?” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and the words and touch comfort you.

“That sounds good… Megumi?” You ask.

“Sounds fine.” He shrugs nonchalantly, a huge contract to just and hour ago. “May I sleep now?”

“Oh, of course… here.” You whisper, shutting off the light for a moment. The room is pitch black, completely overcome with darkness for a moment. There’s some slight shuffling to be heard before the room lights up again— a nightlight.

The glow is a soft yellow, and reaches to the center of the room before fading out slightly.

“Ta-da! Think of it as a… welcoming gift.” Satoru chuckles, and you nod, hanging on his arm as you wait for megumi’s reaction.

And of course, he doesn’t. His face is about as blank as a sheet of paper. The silence makes you deflate a bit, smiling nervously and waving it off.

“You’re a big boy now, I know… it’s silly. I can shut it off—“

“No, no— please. It’s nice, thank you.” He says quickly, and moves to fluff out his pillow. Both you and Satoru share a look of excitement and take his pillow-fluffing as a cue to let the boy finally sleep.

“Right… goodnight, Megumi.” You and Satoru whisper in unison, slowly shutting the door.

And now that Megumi is completely alone, finally…

He lets the smile he’s been holding in ono his face, and lets the tears of relief and joy finally fall.

──────

taglist,,

@anything4yoongi @alpha-mommy69 @s4ikoo1 @moonchhu @kianatrg @emryb

[ponyboyssophie]

Love iconography in Sorry We're Closed (2024)

As the Angel of Love in this game is represented by a horse-chimera, there was a lot of care put into using horses to symbolize love & relationships. There's the obvious theme of Dream Eater plastering his realm with paintings, statues, and artifacts about Chamuel and other random places like the crypt using his visage too, but I'm mostly gonna talk about something a bit more abstract.

Sorry We're Closed uses hearts as its primary symbolism for love; but it also uses a less mainstream visual motif to show us how it matters to the characters. Horse. :)

To start with, each episode of Dying Petals starts out with a shot of a horse painting, before zooming out to bring in the characters.

Shots of the characters talking will usually be accompanied by one or two paintings. This is where we first see horses associated with relationships.

[There are TWO SEPERATE paintings behind them, yknow, just in case you don't notice the first.]

You might know that the story represents Michelle's love life, (quite literally as Epiphany is played by her actual ex; the story mimics their conflict and break up) but this room also becomes the place where Michelle solidifies her destiny, whether she chooses new love, her ex, or something else.

Also, notice how the painting behind Canary is much bigger than the one behind Epiphany. This is still true when accounting for perspective.

Although the biggest (and brightest) horse painting is off-screen.

You can see it behind Chamuel on the final day, next to his door that allows you to choose love.

The Carousel.

In the scene where we watch the duchess execute a woman for lying about her 'love' for the Duchess to save her life, there is a carousel-style horse in the background.

This is, I believe, the first time we see this horse carousel, and it appears with a bleeding heart. An empty spot where there used to be something. Love is not here.

The Duchesses room.

On the outside, you see paintings of Dream Eater and Chamuel.

I used to think a lot of the paintings around the game were random - like maybe they were just filler. There's a lot of repetition of the same images over and over again, but I've come to understand it is its own visual language.

The Duchess seems to place a big focus on these two around the hotel - who are "quite infamous" in the supernatural community. There's the obvious connection to taboo love here, but I think it's also an example of a demon being able to resist the change of love. Which might explain the hierarchy here of Dream Eater being on the top/larger. More value is placed on Dream Eater, who holds onto the past.

[Spoilers for inside the Duchesses room]

Straight off the bat, you start to notice a trend in this room. This is where I started picking up on the meanings behind certain pieces and noticing the emphasis on horses throughout the game, especially in regards to the Duchess. It might feel like maybe they just like horses - having a picture book with horses or framed paintings all over their room seems like more of an interest, but it continues to entwine them in the language of love.

Also - I won't go into this too deeply but the repetitive paintings of the Duchess, especially the close ups of their eye/features, is a parallel to the fractured, disjointed images of Chamuels face that represent his 'mortalisation' and get more and more frequent (and also, violent) the further he gets into his struggle with love. It implies to me that the Duchess has already begun this process, or at least reflects how they've been fractured by love as well.

Ironically, the picture of the lead singer of Michelle's favourite band, who they brought to the hotel to make her feel more at home is right next to it. It's not mentioned if the Duchess was already a fan, or if they checked it out because of Michelle/how much they love her outfit (fish fight shirt included!) :)

Here we see the horse with the bleeding heart again.

Over their clean, neat bed which is kind of a mix between elegant hotel opulence and rusty torture chamber imagery (the case on the left side of the bed..... if you know you know). Their room itself is a beautiful illusion that seeks to cover up for their one weakness, but it still shows through.

You also find some assorted Duchess-themed artifacts.

Notably, the missing heart fragment. T.A.D says this is "said to be what remains of the Duchesses heart after the incident."

(There's also the presence of Dying Petals in the Duchesses room, but that's a topic for another post.)

I also find it interesting that they has these on their shelf. A visual reference to Dream Eater fighting himself, maybe?

[Also, Bonus A La Mode games reference. Or, the Duchesses version of the warriors that I've just now realised is a reference to the devs logo]

Hotel Ascent is when things start to get more... surreal.

There's a repeated trial throughout this area where, to pass to the next room, you have to charge your heartbreaker before shooting the heart of the horse statue. The first instance of this is also accompanied by a literal anatomical heart you have to shoot to charge it up.

Usually, it's aggressively defended by giant roller-spikes and/or enemy hordes. The Duchess doesn't want you to break past their barriers and into their heart, that's for sure.

This is the opening scene for the final boss fight.

The statues stay in the background for the whole fight. Notice how these ones no longer have arrows jutting from their chests.

(We also see these weird abstract horses from the start of hotel ascent again - even they have a true form which can only be seen with the third eye.)

Other uses in the game.

I think Dream Eater's Palace would take up wayy too much, so I'll skip it. It's already something that is canonically brought to attention in-game so Iif you've played it of course you'll already know how obsessed this guy is with, uh, horses, and what that says about him. :)

There is also a picture of Dream Eater (a.k.a "a forlorn being") in the church where Benedict and Robyn (the OTHER angel/demon relationship) spend most of their time together. You can imagine it's not on the side Beloved chooses to hang around haha.

Oakley doesn't have anything in his diner as far as I know, but Darrel does have two paintings of the earlier picture of Duchess riding a horse in his bar.

He has other Duchess paintings also, likely because they're his boss, but this feels very in-place in the bar for a reason.

It does mean that all three relationships in the game have some connection to Dream Eater/Chamuel imagery. Some of it may be coincidence, but I thought I'd mention this anyway as it solidifies the connection to love.

Okay fine I'll talk about the crypt.

The examples/relationships I've used here are romantic in nature, but it's worth noting there are excessive amount of Chamuel statues in the crypt as well. A crypt that belonged to a broken family, that has mostly covered up it's traces of said family after Gabriella took revenge on her parents. Traces of angels are systematically replaced with demonic imagery, as though Gabriella was insulted by the appearance of love being featured so heavily throughout her families tomb. You might see love in the past (using your third eye), but it's disappeared/fractured.

So what's up with the horses?

I already kind of mentioned this at the start, but in this fictional world the concept of love and horses are pretty much inherently linked through Chamuel, so I appreciate how they leaned into this by making it sort of a cultural concept of love.

Horses can be seen as a symbol of love historically, but generally the cultural zeitgeist uses something a bit more fragile and delicate, like doves or rabbits.

It reminds me of Disco Elysium, where love is understood through the lungs rather than the heart due to it's association with Dolores Dei; a pseudo-religious symbol who was just a deified historical figure. Changing what love 'looks' like in a way that serves the story. It shows how well-intergrated Dream Eater and Chamuel are in the world-building and story. They represent the fear of change, and the consequent leap of faith you need to embrace that change. Something the Duchess needs.

Why not use horses? It still feels childlike and nostalgic. They're strong, lively creatures who still exist as prey animals to be hunted - the Duchess doesn't want to be hunted. They want to hunt.

And, life didn't really go that way for them.

By the way I lied earlier, not every episode of Dying Petals has a horse painting. In the Duchess route, during the final episode when Epiphany and Canary break up, they are cramped into the only corner of the room that doesn't have horses. I guess Michelle really did move on from Leslie. :)

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Exploring Bucky’s Body

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: When Bucky feels self-conscious about his scars, you take a moment to remind him how perfect he truly is

Warnings: Nonsexual nudity, hurt/comfort, Angst and fluff, insecurities, Sad!Self-Conscious!Bucky, pet names (Sweet Boy, Sweetheart, ), no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

-------------------------------------------------------

Bucky has been off all day.

No one else seems to see it, he’s gotten good at hiding it from most people

But you know him better than that, you can see how deep in his own head he is

The distant look in his eyes, the fact he’s even quieter than usual, the way he tenses when anyone touches him, even you

He assures you that he’s fine when you ask, that nothing’s wrong, but you know him

You decide not to bring it up again until the two of you are laying down to go to bed that night

You notice he still has a t-shirt on as he gets ready to settle in, which is strange because he almost always sleeps without a shirt on, adoring the feeling of your skin against his own

So you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a little kiss to the crook of his neck

“What’s on your mind, Sweet Boy?” you whisper. Bucky didn't look at you, “you know you can talk to me, Honey. Please, what’s wrong?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze

You sigh, and go to reach under his shirt to rub his back when you hear a sharp inhale

“Buck? Are you okay?”

“Don’t,” he whispers, “don’t touch them. Please.”

“Don’t touch what?”

“The scars.”

Realization hits you instantly

Bucky gets in his own head, so nervous about how others see him. How you see him.

“Bucky…” you move in front of him, sitting in his lap and taking his face in both hands, “you know I love your body…”

“Don’t act like you don’t hate them,” he murmurs, eyes still refusing to meet yours, “you don’t have to lie–”

“Ssshhh…” you wrap your arms around his neck, guiding his head to your shoulder and running your fingers through his hair, “I’m not lying. I love every part of you.”

He still won’t meet your gaze, so you decide to try something

Sliding out of his lap you softly ask, “Sweetheart, can you lay down for me?”

He cocks his head, finally looking at you, eyes full of confusion

“Just trust me, okay?”

Finally, he does as you ask and settles in bed, resting his back against the headboard

You slip off your shirt

You slip your shorts off as well, fully naked in front of him.

He’s surprised, to say the least

“Doll?”

“Would it be alright if I was on top of you?” you ask.

He nods, still confused as you straddle his hips

Your hand finds the waistband of his boxers

“Can I take these off?” you ask.

His eyes flit around, biting his lip as his body goes tense

You can see the conflict in his blue eyes, desperately wanting to be against you but also so nervous about being seen

Finally, nervously, he nods, and quietly says “yes.”

you slip them off, and his underwear is on the floor

Your hand runs along the hem of his shirt, “can I take this off?”

He pulls back, terrified to let you see him

“I promise, I won’t hurt you, Baby Boy,” you whisper, “just want to show you how perfect you are.”

He’s nervous, you can tell, but he slowly slides it off, you assisting him

Once he’s fully bare, you begin to gently run your hands along his torso

“D-Doll,” he gasps out, eyes fluttering, “don’t…”

“Shhhh, just lemme touch you,” you lean forward and kiss his cheek, “just lemme admire my Incredible boyfriend.”

Your fingertips draw shudders from his body and gasps from his lips, shocked by your gentle touch

Nothing sexual, just you dragging your fingers along every mark, every scar, every tense and taut muscle, every dip of his ribs

Exploring his body with the softest, most gentle feather-light touches

“How?” Bucky whispers, his voice full of emotion. You look up at him and see tears forming in his eyes, “how could you like touching them?”

You reach out and cup his cheek, wiping the tears with your thumb.

“Because you had to be so strong and so brave for so long, Baby,” you lean down and kiss a slash along his ribcage, causing him to gasp, “your scars reflect that. They show how hard you fought, and that you survived. You made it through, and stayed the same kind, gentle, loving man that Steve told me stories about when I first joined the team. You’re a warrior, Bucky. And these show that. They’re a part of you, and I think they’re so beautiful for that.”

He doesn’t respond, but looks up at you with eyes filled with love as you lean forward

"You're so beautiful, Bucky. Every inch of you is perfect," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, "I love you."

He holds your face with both hands, pulling you in for a soft kiss, tender and full of love.

“I love you too.”

[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All By Myself With Severus Snape and Learning to Breathe Again

Summary: Chores turn into training, training turns into tension. A stolen moment in the quiet, a Floo call at the wrong time, and feelings neither of them are ready to say out loud. Peace never lasts long — but for a heartbeat, it almost feels like enough.

Author's note: Hey, my dear readers! The chapter’s here — full of tension, emotions, and a little (ahem) heat. My first time writing smut(be gentle with me, haha)and let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Warnings: Emotional tension, slow burn romance, jealousy, and smut

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 and Part 10 here

Cross posted on AO3

==============================================

You woke up tangled in your sheets, the remnants of restless sleep still clinging to your limbs. Sunlight poured through the half-cracked window, far too cheerful for how complicated your thoughts were.

Last night.

That kiss.

On his cheek. What were you thinking?

A groan escaped your lips as you rolled over, burying your face in the pillow. Maybe it had been a spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment thing—maybe. But the way Snape had looked at you afterward, the stunned silence, the conflicted storm in his eyes... it hadn’t been just anything. Still, what's done is done. You couldn’t take it back now—and oddly, you didn’t want to.

Shrugging off the weight in your chest, you stretched with a soft grunt, bones cracking, muscles loosening under the warm golden light. Your eyes swept across the room—and immediately widened.

What in Merlin’s name had happened in here?

It looked like a bomb went off. A very unmagical, lazy-person bomb. Clothes in a sad pile, books stacked at dangerous angles, dust gathering at the corners like gossiping old ladies.

You frowned, taking it all in. Ever since you’d arrived from Spinner’s End—and with everything that had happened between you and Snape—you’d avoided cleaning like it carried the plague. And Snape, bachelor extraordinaire, didn’t seem the type to break a sweat over household chores either. You were pretty sure he relied solely on Scourgify charms and the occasional glare at inanimate objects.

You snorted, actually picturing it now: Snape, sleeves rolled up, sweeping the stairs with a sour expression, muttering under his breath about “filthy Muggle methods” and “bloody dust bunnies.” You’d pay galleons to see that.

But today... today felt different.

The air felt lighter. The tension between you and Snape had eased—if only slightly—and that alone made you feel like you could finally breathe. Maybe, after everything, a bit of normalcy wouldn’t hurt. Cleaning had always been your way of grounding yourself, and considering the emotional rollercoaster of late—your mother’s past, the Death Eater break-in, your painfully complicated not-quite-friendship with Snape—you needed grounding.

You pulled out you laptop from the stacks of messy which still running somehow despite the magic in the air —and hit shuffle on your favourite playlist.

Seconds later, the opening chords of Hot and Cold by Katy Perry blasted through the room, unapologetic and loud.

You smirked. How fitting, honestly. Given your current... "situation."

You started mouthing along to the lyrics—

"You! Change your mind! Like a girl changes clothes!"

—while pulling your sheets off the bed and stuffing them into the laundry basket like a woman on a mission.

It was the same playlist you used to blast back at Spinner’s End, the one that had made your mysterious, scowling neighbor nearly hex your window in irritation.

And now? Now you were in a safe house togather. Cleaning it.

You shook your head and laughed.

“I swear if he walks in while I’m singing this...” you muttered to yourself, grinning as you danced your way toward the door with the basket in hand.

Severus Snape had not slept well.

He rarely did these days, but last night had been worse than usual.

The phantom warmth of a kiss on his cheek haunted him with cruel precision—over and over again, like a looped memory he hadn’t given permission to replay.

Foolish. Reckless. Sentimental.

She hadn’t meant it. Not really. It was the heat of the moment. Relief. Gratitude. Proximity. All things he could logically analyze and neatly fold away, like spare ingredients into glass jars.

And yet…

The image of her, eyes soft and voice barely above a whisper, saying thank you right before pressing her lips to his skin—

Snape grunted, sitting up in bed, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes. "Get over yourself," he muttered. "You're acting like a schoolboy."

He pushed himself up with effort. His limbs felt heavy, more from the mental weight than lack of sleep. Wrapping a threadbare black robe around his shoulders, he padded out of his room, fully intending to find tea and silence.

Instead, he heard music. Muggle music.

And not just any music—

A female voice was screaming Hot then you’re cold, yes then you’re no, you’re in then you’re out like a personal attack.

He scowled.

Following the sound (and the suspicious smell of bleach), Snape stopped dead at the top of the stairs.

There she was.

Mop in one hand, the other twirling in the air like she was in a concert. Barefoot, hair messily tied up, sleeves rolled past her elbows, and singing her heart out to what sounded like a passive-aggressive breakup anthem. Her laptop sat dangerously close to a soapy bucket. Her wand was in her waistband. And she was dancing. With actual joy.

Snape remained rooted, unseen. Unheard.

He should say something. He really should. This was his—no, the—safehouse. She shouldn’t be using magic and electronics at the same time. She could get electrocuted. She could—

He sighed, and caught himself.

Because despite the mop, the mess, and the melody that was burrowing into his skull like a cursed earworm…

There was something almost unbearably normal about it.

Something… human.

And when was the last time he felt that?

He scowled again, deeper this time, and cleared his throat.

Somewhere between the second chorus and a particularly dramatic hair flip with the mop, you didn’t hear the creaking floorboards. Or the muffled thud of footsteps behind you. You were too caught up in the beat, twirling like the hallway was your stage.

You sang out loud,

"Used to be, just a stranger, now you’re living rent-free in my—"

"—house of chaos," you improvised.

That’s when you heard it.

A quiet, unimpressed throat clear.

You froze mid-verse, mid-mop, eyes wide, head slowly turning.

There he stood.

Snape.

In the hallway.

In his crumpled black shirt and trousers, sleep still clinging to his face and hair, eyes narrowed in what could only be described as deep, DEEP judgment.

"...What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I—I’m cleaning?” you tried, sheepish.

“With that,” he gestured vaguely at the laptop, “blasting that… that howling banshee’s mating call?”

You blinked. “Katy Perry?”

He blinked back, deadpan. “I stand by my description.”

“It’s called music. Helps with the cleaning trauma.”

He muttered something about muggle abominations and floorboards.

You shrugged. “Look, I needed to do something normal. It was either this or reorganizing the bookshelves by emotional damage rating.”

Snape opened his mouth. Closed it. Then muttered, “Ridiculous,” and turned to leave.

But you weren’t done yet.

“Oh, Professor,” you called sweetly. “One more thing!”

He stopped. Slowly turned. Suspicion radiated from every inch of him.

You smiled. Innocent. Radiant. Dangerous.

“Where’s your laundry?”

“…What?”

“Laundry. You do wear clothes. I assume they require washing?”

“I use a Scourgify charm.”

You gasped, offended. “No. You don’t. Tell me you don’t.”

“I—what on earth is wrong with that?!”

“It’s a crime against textiles,” you said, marching toward him. “Where are they? Show me your sins.”

He backed up a step. “I will not hand you my—”

“You will. Because I know your robes crunch when you walk.”

“They do not!”

“You’re lying.”

You were already halfway up the stairs.

Snape stood at the edge of the hallway for a moment longer, watching her disappear up the stairs with a basket full of chaos and far too much enthusiasm.

He should have been annoyed. He was, technically—at the noise, the recklessness, the absurdity of Hot and Cold echoing through his walls like an exorcism gone wrong.

And yet…

There was a peculiar warmth blooming in his chest. Not the fiery kind that came with anger or frustration, but something quieter. Softer. Foreign.

He watched a dust mote drift lazily in the sunbeam that split the hallway. The scent of cleaning solution still lingered in the air. Faint laughter and footsteps padded upstairs.

This was what normal people did, wasn’t it?

They cleaned. They played music. They bickered about laundry. They lived.

And for the first time in years—possibly ever—he didn’t feel like a half-shadow skulking through the ruins of his life. For a fleeting second, he felt like a man again. A man in a home. Not a prison.

He exhaled.

Perhaps... this wasn’t so intolerable.

By late afternoon, you’d cleaned the upstairs hallway, the bathroom, and had managed to wage war against a particularly stubborn colony of dust under the living room sofa. The house didn’t exactly sparkle, but it no longer looked like a forgotten dungeon with mild hoarding tendencies.

Snape, for his part, had spent most of the day avoiding the chaos with the focus of a man on a mission. You spotted him once—passing silently down the hallway with a teacup in hand, eyes pointedly not looking at your mop—and another time muttering a silencing charm on his study door. You’d nearly cackled.

By the time evening rolled around, you were sprawled on the worn-out couch, limbs aching but heart oddly content. Your playlist had long since died out, your laptop blinking sadly from across the room. You took a long breath and leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling.

Peace.

For once, things felt… almost normal.

Snape stepped into the room quietly, his silhouette outlined by the dimming firelight. He eyed you, then the cleaned surroundings, and then—without sarcasm, without scowling—said:

“You’ve done… quite a bit today.”

You blinked. “Was that… almost a compliment?”

“Don’t push it.”

You grinned. “Duly noted.”

A beat passed.

Then he added, tone slightly softer, “We should resume your training tomorrow.”

Your eyes opened. “Really?”

“You need it. With the situation being what it is…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening. “You must be prepared. You’re not safe—not yet.”

You nodded slowly. “Alright. Tomorrow it is.”

The morning was quiet, save for the faint sizzle from the frying pan and the soft clink of cutlery. You hummed under your breath as you flipped the eggs, the scent of herbs and butter filling the cozy kitchen. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was warm, and it was yours—well, as much as this strange situation allowed.

Behind you, the kettle clicked. A familiar presence leaned past your shoulder, grabbing two mugs.

“You forgot to heat the water,” Snape muttered, pouring it with practiced ease.

“I was busy being impressive with the eggs,” you shot back with a smirk, not even needing to turn.

He gave a soft huff that could have been a laugh—or a scoff. Maybe both. The two of you worked side by side with surprising ease, the domesticity of it all quietly settling in the corners of the house like forgotten sunlight.

It felt unnatural, how natural this felt.

Snape moved on instinct, reaching for plates, pouring tea—his usual sharp movements oddly softened. He watched you out of the corner of his eye: barefoot, hair a mess, a smudge of flour near your wrist.

Ridiculous, he thought. This isn't real. Can't be.

But still, the warmth of the kitchen crept under his skin and stayed there, curling around a part of him he thought long frozen.

Once breakfast was plated, you glanced at the clock and grabbed your wand, slipping on your boots.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you said over your shoulder, heading to your room to refresh a bit.

He didn’t reply—not aloud, at least. He simply watched you go, then allowed himself a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

You stepped out into the transformed training area—a stretch of land behind the house warded off and cleared. Dummies lined the edges, targets floated midair, and a patch of soft, worn grass had been charmed to cushion landings.

And there he stood.

Snape was already waiting, wand in hand, long cloak swirling faintly in the breeze.

“Ready?” he asked, already walking to the center.

“Born ready.”

He started with spell drills—testing you, watching your footwork, pushing your reflexes.

“Don’t hesitate. That’s how you get hexed.”

You blocked, parried, countered. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat beginning to form at your temples. But something about his presence—the low, steady tone of his corrections, the sharp flick of his wand—kept you grounded.

“Again,” he said, and you obeyed.

Then he disarmed you.

“Wands away,” he ordered, slipping his into his sleeve. “Now, hand-to-hand.”

You blinked. “What, are you going to throw punches like a Muggle?”

Snape didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he lunged.

You barely dodged. He swept a leg; you stumbled back. He was faster than he looked—fluid, trained, and completely unreadable. But you’d picked up enough from observing him to hold your own, even if just barely.

He caught your wrist and spun you, pinning your arm behind your back before you slipped under his hold and kicked out—grazing his shin. His eyes narrowed with grudging approval.

And then—you overcommitted.

He moved fast, tackling you gently but with precision. You hit the grass with a soft thud, air knocked from your lungs—and before you could recover, he straddled you.

One hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your wrist, his hair falling forward as he looked down at you.

Your breath caught.

His weight above you. His eyes on yours. His thumb brushing your wrist.

Neither of you moved.

Too close, his mind whispered.

Too warm. Too soft. Too tempting.

Her lips. Her eyes. The way she looked up at him like she saw past the masks.

You are not a man made for peace. Don’t forget that.

“I thought we were training,” you whispered, your voice barely there.

“We are,” he murmured, voice rough. But his gaze had dropped—lingering on your lips, then returning to your eyes with something darker. Something dangerous. Something real.

He didn’t mean to lean closer. He didn’t mean to stay there.

But he did.

And for one awful, perfect second—he almost kissed you.

Then—

CRACK.

A burst of flame at the edge of the yard scattered the tension like shattered glass. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, descended with radiant ease, wings glowing in the light. He landed atop a wooden post, tilting his head like a curious observer.

Snape froze above you.

The phoenix trilled, serene and sweet, before letting a scroll drop from its beak.

Snape grabbed it with a hiss, rising to his feet.

Of course. Of bloody course.

You sat up as he read.

“What now?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you. Just exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the note.

“An Order member is coming to collect potions,” he said.

You brushed grass from your arms. “Who?”

He finally looked at you, jaw set tight. “Lupin. Late afternoon.”

You stayed quiet after Fawkes left.

The kiss that never happened still ghosted your lips—an almost, a breath, a tension suspended in time. You kept replaying it. The weight of him above you. The way his eyes had gone dark. How he hadn’t moved until Fawkes had forced him to.

Would he have kissed you? The question echoed louder with each passing second.

You didn’t ask. He didn’t offer.

But when you looked at him after, Snape seemed sharper. Quieter. Guarded again. The softness was gone, tucked away like it had never happened.

The rest of the day passed slowly, your thoughts looping endlessly between what almost was and what you wished had been.

And then—late afternoon.

The Floo flared.

Remus Lupin. Warm brown eyes. A kind smile. Threadbare robes. A presence that felt like fresh air after being trapped in a house of cold stone and colder stares.

And for the first time in weeks, you saw someone who wasn’t Snape. Or Dumbledore. Someone new. Someone safe. Someone... human.

And that shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You found yourself smiling without trying.

“I’m Remus,” he said gently, offering you a hand that somehow felt warmer than it should have. “And you must be the one keeping Severus on edge.”

You laughed. You hadn’t even introduced yourself yet.

“Guilty.”

“Lupin.” Snape’s voice cut in, sharp as a snapped wand. He appeared behind you, like a shadow laced with thunder.

Remus blinked, unfazed. “Severus. I brought the Wolfsbane. Figured I’d pick up what you had ready for Dumbledore.”

Snape’s eyes didn’t leave Remus’s hand—still extended in your direction.

“She doesn’t need your introductions,” he said curtly, brushing past you both into the sitting room. “Or your assumptions.”

You raised a brow, half amused, half confused. Remus simply gave you an apologetic smile and stepped inside.

It was small. Barely a snap. But enough. Enough to tell you something Snape didn’t say out loud. And that was the moment the idea bloomed in your head like a wicked little flower. Jealousy looked good on him. You wanted to see more.

Remus had only visited twice, and yet you could already feel it.

That shift in the air whenever he arrived.

That cold, distant look Snape adopted the moment you so much as greeted the man at the door.

And oh, you saw it.

The narrowed eyes. The way his lips barely moved when he spoke to Remus. The stiff posture that somehow always stood just a little too close when you were chatting innocently about books or tea.

It was infuriating. It was hilarious.

It was… intoxicating.

So, naturally, you did what any emotionally damaged woman with a death wish would do.

You stirred the pot.

Take 1 

You found Snape in his lab that morning, organizing potion jars like they’d personally offended him.

“Professor,” you asked sweetly, peeking over a pile of drying sprigs, “what was Remus like back at Hogwarts? You know, as a student?”

He stiffened.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t even breathe, for a moment.

“Why?”

You shrugged, tracing circles on the wood with your finger. “Just curious. He’s kind. Funny. Has a nice voice.”

A vial cracked between his fingers.

“I fail to see how that’s relevant,” he said coldly.

You bit your lip to suppress a grin. “So that’s a no on the storytime?”

He turned just enough for you to catch the flicker of disdain in his eyes.

“If you are so invested in the tales of your new... companion, perhaps you should ask him.”

You gave a dreamy sigh. “Maybe I will.”

Severus clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. Companion? She’d known Lupin a matter of days. And yet her eyes sparkled every time he walked in. What exactly did he do that I don’t?

Take two

You made breakfast.

Snape, naturally, refused to eat. He always did when Remus was due to arrive.

“Don’t you like eggs?” you asked, smiling innocently across the table.

“I don’t like being interrupted,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the Floo.

“So broody in the mornings,” you teased, licking a bit of jam from your thumb.

He watched your tongue for one second too long.

Then, muttering something unintelligible, he rose and disappeared into the corridor.

Take Three

Remus had come and gone.

You could still feel his warmth in the air.

Snape was pretending not to brood on the armchair, buried in a book he clearly wasn’t reading.

You curled up on the rug nearby, pretending to doodle idly on some parchment.

“Do you think Remus has a girlfriend?” you mused aloud, knowing full well the effect it would have.

Snape slammed his book shut.

Your eyes widened dramatically. “Did I say something wrong?”

Every fucking day since that werewolf walked in, she’s been testing me. Poking. Prodding. I should ignore her. I should be above this. But if she touches him again… if she flirts again—

“I think,” he said with barely-contained venom, “you should find a more productive use of your time.”

You tilted your head. “Why? My time bothering you is very productive.”

He stood. “It is deeply irritating.”

“Then I’m succeeding,” you whispered, low enough that he wasn’t meant to hear.

But he did.

Oh, he did.

That night, you caught him staring from the hallway.

Your bedroom door was ajar. You were reading in bed, blanket slipped too low on your chest to be accidental.

He lingered.

Watching.

You didn’t say a word.

She’s doing this on purpose. Wants me to react. Wants me to claim her. I should stay away. But she’s making it... impossible.

You shifted under the covers, turning a page with a sigh that was more breathy than necessary.

He left without a word.

Last Take

And then the last resort and plan, you pushed it too far.

Remus was laughing at something you said. His hand touched your lower back in a moment of pure politeness.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek—again.

But this time?

You felt heat behind you.

Then hands.

Before you could speak, Snape spun you around and shoved you against the closed door, one arm braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist like he was holding himself back from doing something unspeakable.

His breath was fire against your face.

“You think this is funny?” he growled.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice breathless. “Are you jealous?”

His eyes darkened.

And then he kissed you.

There was nothing gentle about it. It was punishing, hungry, brutal. His mouth crashed against yours, tongue thrusting past your lips like he needed to own every inch of you.

“Tell me now,” he rasped, “if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t answer.

You just yanked his collar, pulled him down, and kissed him so fiercely he moaned into your mouth.

He lifted you without breaking the kiss, your legs locking around his waist, your back pinned against the door.

By the time you reached your room, half your clothes were gone.

He threw you onto the bed, staring down at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

I’ve watched her.

I’ve wanted her.

I can’t stop now.

He stripped fast—robes falling away, revealing pale skin, lean muscle, scars, veins, raw power. You followed, tearing off the rest of your clothes like they were on fire.

And then?

He was on you.

His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking, licking, biting until you arched beneath him, whimpering his name.

His hand slid between your legs.

He groaned. “You’re soaked.”

“You’re taking too long,” you gasped, grinding against his fingers.

He kissed your inner thigh, then pushed into you with two fingers while his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles until your moans filled the room.

She’s perfect. Merlin, she’s perfect.

You grabbed his hair, yanked him up, and kissed him hard.

He grinned against your lips. “Impatient.”

“Starving,” you growled, and shoved him onto his back.

You straddled him, took him in your hand, and guided him into your mouth—slow, teasing, until he bucked beneath you with a growl.

“Fuck—just like that—”

He came with a strangled groan, and before he even fully recovered, he muttered the contraceptive spell, pulled you into his lap, and kissed you breathless.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You didn’t speak.

You just lowered yourself onto him slowly—inch by inch—until you were full, stretched wide, gasping as his hands gripped your hips.

You rolled your hips once—and he snapped.

He flipped you over, drove into you from behind, one hand in your hair, the other pressed between your legs.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Severus,” you moaned, your voice breaking.

He flipped you again. Legs over his shoulders. Deeper. Rougher. His name a chant from your lips.

Then sideways. Then against the wall.

You lost track of time. Of position. Of sanity.

All you knew was him—inside you, around you, owning you.

When you came, it was a scream and a cry and a wave that ripped through your soul.

He wasn’t far behind—grunting, moaning, biting your shoulder as he spilled inside you.

And when it was over, he collapsed beside you, pulled you against his chest, and whispered into your hair:

“Mine.”

The morning sun was soft against your skin. It streamed through the half-drawn curtains in golden streaks, painting quiet warmth on the sheets tangled around you. A strong arm rested across your waist. A warm chest rose and fell behind you. His breath tickled your shoulder—deep and even.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Content. Like the world outside this room didn’t matter.

You turned slowly, eyes fluttering open to see Severus Snape.

Still asleep.

Still yours.

And gods, he looked peaceful. Softer in the morning light. Less guarded. Less tormented.

You smiled.

Your fingertips reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, and just for a moment—just a single, foolish second—you let yourself imagine what it would be like to wake up beside him like this every day.

But the moment you moved, the moment your hand pulled back—

He stirred.

His eyes snapped open.

And just like that… everything shifted.

He pulled away like he’d been burned. The warmth vanished. The softness was gone.

“…Severus?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sat up, legs over the edge of the bed, hands braced against his knees. Tension rolled off of him in violent waves. He didn’t look at you.

“I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

The words sliced through the morning like a blade.

You blinked. “What…?”

“That was a mistake,” he said, low and cold.

A mistake.

The ache started in your chest, blooming outwards like something dying.

“Severus—”

“You need to leave.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“You being here… it’s a liability. I can’t protect you if you keep crossing boundaries you don’t understand.”

The way he said it—clinical, detached—like you were just another broken experiment in his lab.

Like none of it meant anything.

But you saw it.

The tightness in his jaw. The way his fists clenched. He couldn’t even meet your eyes.

You shook your head, heart thundering. “Last night wasn’t a mistake.”

“It was,” he snapped, rising from the bed. His voice was sharp, defensive. “I let my guard down. I should have known better.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he hissed, turning on you now, black eyes hard as obsidian. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You think this is a game? I’m not some fantasy to play with.”

Tears welled before you could stop them. “So what was it then? Just stress relief? A convenient way to scratch an itch?”

He flinched.

But he didn’t answer.

Didn’t deny it.

Didn’t take it back.

The silence was louder than any scream.

Your lip trembled. “You’re a coward.”

He said nothing.

You stumbled out of bed, grabbing your clothes, clutching them to your chest like they could protect your heart from shattering. You didn’t even look back as you ran from the room.

Your door slammed shut behind you. You collapsed against it, sliding to the floor. The first sob ripped free before you could swallow it down.

He didn’t follow.

Didn’t knock.

Didn’t explain.

And you hated that you still wanted him to.

Snape stood in the middle of his room, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached. The bedsheets still smelled like her. His fingers curled into his palms, nails biting deep into skin.

Stupid. Stupid.

He had tasted her skin, heard her moan his name—and still he let her go.

He’d never be able to have her without destroying her.

He’d made a mistake.

He had to fix it.

He threw on his robes, ignoring the tightness in his throat, and stormed out of the house.

The room and bed were cold and dark.

Your body still ached from the night before—not from pain, but the phantom of his touch. The warmth of his skin. The weight of him above you. Inside you.

You had kissed him like he was your beginning and end.

And he had left you like you were nothing.

“It was a mistake.” “You need to leave.”

The words played over and over like a curse you couldn’t shake.

You curled tighter under the blanket, staring at the door, hoping—stupidly—that he’d come back. That this was all some sick defense mechanism and not his truth.

But hours passed.

And he didn’t return.

So when the knock came, your heart leapt.

Hope bloomed before logic could kill it.

You climbed out of bed, barefoot, still wrapped in a jumper that smelled like him. Walked through the quiet house, each step heavy with silent prayer.

Please be him.

You opened the door—

“Hey,” Remus said, gentle and concerned. “You look…”

His brows furrowed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You blinked at him, tears rushing to the surface. It wasn’t Snape. And this was the first time he came through the front door and not the floo.

But it was someone. Someone kind. Someone who didn’t leave you bleeding in silence.

“He pushed me away,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Said it was a mistake. Like it meant nothing.”

Remus stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, sympathetic. “You don’t deserve that.”

And the way he said it—it sounded so real.

You felt yourself lean into him, desperate for any sort of comfort. Any sort of touch that wasn’t cruel and fleeting.

His arms wrapped around you. Familiar. Warm.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your cheek.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. “Let’s get you out for a while. Breathe. Clear your head.”

You hesitated. But Snape didn’t want you. So… what was there to stay for?

“Okay,” you said.

And just like that, your fingers wrapped around his.

You closed your eyes. And together, you Disapparated.

The ground beneath your feet felt wrong.

You opened your eyes.

No field. No trees. No soft wind. Just fog. Grey. Empty.

Dead silent.

Your heart twisted.

“Remus?”

He turned. But the warmth had faded.

That expression—that subtle smirk, the tilt of the head—it wasn’t him.

And then, the voice.

Low. Mocking. Familiar.

“You really didn’t recognize me?” “I did throw you down the stairs, after all.”

Your blood turned to ice.

You stepped back.

His form shimmered—and the Polyjuice wore off.

The man from your house. The Death Eater.

Same eyes. Same smirk. Only this time, no mask.

“Been waiting to repay the favor,” he sneered.

You raised your wand—

Too slow.

A stunning spell hit you square in the chest.

You collapsed instantly, limbs numb, mind swimming.

Before the world went black, you heard his voice again, cold and delighted.

“The Dark Lord will be thrilled to meet you at last… Carrington.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

[seeingivy]

i hate it here

phd student eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

eren’s doorbell rings an hour early. 

haunting, considering the fact that gabi could barely bring herself to be on time in the first place. he noted that it was a particularly plucky habit of hers – one that took him infinitely long to get used to – but one that he found a very creative solution for. 

he thought it was a little bit dramatic at first, asking her to come pick him up from his apartment at six in the morning. it felt a little less dramatic when she still showed up at seven fifteen, just in time to drive the two of them to the hospital. 

when he swings open the door, it makes complete sense. it’s not gabi at all, which he probably should have been able to guess.

hell would have to freeze over before she made it anywhere on time.

“falco.” eren states. 

“good morning, eren! i brought you a coffee.” 

falco should have no reason to know where he lives, and maybe more keenly, no reason to be at the place that he lives. he notes that despite the absence, gabi’s beaten down honda civic is still half parked in the driveway – and if her tints weren’t so dark – he figured he’d be able to see her half asleep in the front seat too. 

the odd thing about falco was that he always seemed to be unwaveringly nervous whenever eren interacted with him. though he imagined that falco must feel like that most of the time, since he seems to be so overly attached to his tethers that it must have felt debilitating to feel alone.

eren figured it was why he was more antsy than usual. falco was far too attached to the comfort that you and gabi seemed to always provide him.  

“i didn’t realize you knew where i lived.” eren states. 

“gabi told me. she drove me here, she’s just in the car.” 

eren narrows his eyes. 

“let me rephrase. i didn’t realize you would invite yourself to where i live. at six in the morning.”

falco gives him an awkward laugh, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, as eren sighs and gestures for him to walk inside. falco seems relieved in the slightest – his mannerisms irritatingly all too familiar – as he tries to wave at gabi from the car. 

“is she coming?” eren asks. 

“uh…yeah. she’ll… just..just give her a second.”  

eren pauses. 

“she’s just going to sit out there. alone?” 

“yes. she’s…having a weird day. and she’s on the phone.” 

eren shrugs. when is she not having a weird day? 

falco follows behind him, almost dragging his feet across the hardwood floors, before settling into one of the spare chairs at his kitchen table. 

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” falco states. 

“well, i gathered you weren’t coming here for breakfast.” eren jests. 

falco gives him an awkward smile, rubbing the palms of his hands against the length of his thighs, before he – what eren assumes – musters the courage to talk again. 

“i apologize for coming without any notice. i actually hadn’t planned on coming at all, but gabi kind of masterminded this whole plan so i could talk to you. you know how she is.” 

eren fights the urge to smile. 

“all too well. what is it?” 

“i wanted to talk to you again. about my brother.” 

eren sighs. he hated shooting people down like this.

“i already said what i did before. i would love to help you but…” 

“i brought his updated scans. and i cross checked all the materials that y/n gave me, he…he does qualify to participate.” 

eren notes that you had to be in on this plan to corner him. that it probably gave him zero points with you that he hadn't agreed on the first ask.

“i know that he does. my concern is a conflict of interest. i don’t want you to get your hopes up that your brother is going to walk again or not be as tired if he participates in my study, or something.” 

falco pinches his lips in a line. 

“he can walk. and he…he doesn’t get tired, he just doesn’t remember who i am.” 

eren pauses. 

“what?” 

“he got into a car accident almost a month ago. he was fine but they did some surgery since he hit his head. i don’t know if it happened before or after but he doesn’t remember anything from before. he can make new memories, he just…can’t remember the old ones. there’s nothing that they can really do for him.” 

falco places a manilla folder on the table, filled with sets of translucent scans, that eren’s keen to look at – for curiosity sake. 

there was no way that he could accept falco’s brother as a participant. not when falco was so deeply involved, which meant that gabi was too. by proxy, he was sure that some protective instinct would kick into your hard drive as well if you were as involved as he thought – which meant that any mistake that he made would be credited to him and him alone. 

and he would get caught in the crossfire from three directions. 

“it’s the one region that you have missing. and he’s one of the younger ones in the participant pool so it could give you more data regarding age and effects of the treatment.” 

eren squints his eyes. 

“how many times did gabi make you rehearse that one? 

“twice. i also wrote it down on my hand in case i forgot.” falco responds, lifting his hand to reveal the black ink on his palm. 

eren smiles, flipping in between the scans to the detailed report at the end. 

“i’m sure she’s waiting in the car to give me a lecture.” eren states. 

“as backup. she has one more card up her sleeve.” falco states. 

“i’m sure this is a great use of her time. spending her paid work hours to find ways to coerce me.” eren states. 

falco smiles. 

“she’s just very passionate about the subject. she really wants to see a patient in the younger age pool.” 

eren laughs. 

“i’m sure that she is.” eren states. 

eren places the scans back down on the table, utterly intrigued and somewhat hopeful, but able to cross the mark. 

he couldn’t give false hope to someone that he knew or irreparably break an interest in research that eren personally had no affinity for. 

“falco, i would love to but…” 

“can i ask you a question?”

eren leans back, crossing his arms across his chest, before giving him a nod. 

“do you really believe in your hypothesis?” falco asks. 

“what?” 

“do you really think that stimulating the neurons enough can get them to kind of kickstart and start functioning again?” 

“in theory. there’s promising research behind it. i certainly didn’t come up with it out of nowhere.” eren responds. 

falco nods. 

“i know it seems like i’m talking this very lightly. just suggesting my brother participate because i know that he qualifies for the experiment and he just got injured but…but trust me.” 

falco pauses. 

“erwin has a lot of faith in you. gabi knows how much work you’ve put into this, how you…you love to work with patients and people. even y/n vouched for you. the only reason i want him to participate is because it’s your study. and i trust you too.” 

eren restrains himself for asking more about the gleaming recommendations that everyone seemed to give him. though, he was curious about some more than others. 

“i appreciate that. and that you think the study will work, it’s...” eren starts

“i’m just asking you to give him a chance. i would never think to blame you when you’re the one doing us a favor by letting him participate. and even if it doesn’t work, i would only be grateful to you. i know you can’t might not understand what it’s like to have someone not remember you but…” 

all eren can think about is sweet golden eyes going cold. that the main thing that made eye contact or looking into the eyes of someone he loved warm was that they were softening to him in recognition.

unbeknownst to falco, of course, eren knew the feeling all too well. it’s the only reason that, on impulse, he was inclined to say yes. the despeate look in falco's eyes.

eren imagined that he looked the same when he feels so helpless too. 

“okay. i’ll bring him in for all the screening questionnaires and preliminarily accept him for now. if i see any glaring red flags that bar him from participation, i will remove him for his own safety.” 

falco’s eyes light up. 

“really?” 

“you made a striking case. gabi’s played her cards well.” 

“oh thank god. and she didn’t even have to use her last one. i’m going to go get her.” 

eren sits puzzled as falco basically jumps out of his chair, screaming out the window of the kitchen into the quiet calm of the neighborhood. his hollering is reciprocated with three honks.

and it makes complete sense to him what gabi had intended to do when she wounds up at the door. with falco’s brother on the doorstep. 

eren takes the quiet second that falco’s ushering him in to berate her. 

“you were going to guilt trip me by watching his brother not remember him in front of my face?” eren whispers. 

“you’re a softie. i knew i wouldn’t have to do all that.” gabi responds. 

“then why did you bring him?” eren asks. 

gabi gives him a peachy, almost innocent smile. 

“insurance! which speaking of…i have another proposition to discuss with you.” gabi responds. 

--

right on the dot at eight am, there’s three consecutive knocks on your cubicle. 

you look up from your laptop to find eren, accompanied with a set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his red-rimmed eyes staring at you. 

the glasses were an abnormal sight; from the amount of time you’ve spent glaring at him, you’ve noted that he almost always gives preference to his contacts. the frames never become less unsettling, but it’s only because they’re almost always accompanied with the red eyes. 

like a vampire. 

your split second pause at his appearance causes him to knock again, but this time he opts to push his head closer to you as he looks over at your laptop screen in efforts to see what’s causing the delay. you can feel the slight edge of panic – of the canary mate website tab open all the way on the right – as you slam your computer shut and glare at him. 

“can i help you, eren?” you ask. 

“i highly doubt that you would have any special skills that i would need to request.” eren states. 

you pinch your lips into a line. so sharp, even in the morning. 

“then why am i being graced with your presence so early in the morning?” you ask. 

eren rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose up in the slightest, as he pulls out his phone. 

eren doesn’t have the same problem that you do – as he took his due diligence of keeping his online pen pal a secret very seriously – which in his case, included muted notifications every time he set foot into the research lab. 

connie was nosy, jean was irritating, and you were always around. his efforts were merely precautionary measures to protect himself and his sweet secret exactly as it was – a secret. 

“it seems that my horrendous car luck has passed on to gabi.” he states, as slides onto the screenshot in his images. 

you snort. 

“you’re like a virus.” you state. 

eren glares. 

“if only it had passed on to you instead of her.” he responds. 

you roll your eyes, before swiveling over to face him properly. 

“can you get to the point? you have a really roundabout way of talking. it feels like you can never get to your point, eren.” 

it was a low blow. the exact criticism that eren had received from erwin earlier this morning at the lab meeting. 

“something that must have rubbed off on me from you, i’m sure. next thing i know, i’m going to start leaving spelling errors in my grant applications.” eren seethes. 

you seethe. eren always knew how to dish it back. you were convinced that he only listened during lab meeting to hear the criticism you received – just so he could throw it back in your face later. 

and find a way he did. 

“can you just get to the point, eren?” you ask. 

eren hands his phone over to you, the screenshot of four pinned locations on the map. 

“i have been made aware that you have a preference for carpooling in the morning with either falco or sasha.” 

“that’s correct.” 

“between our research team, only two of us possess vehicles now. we marked out all the locations and it seems that it is more time and cost effective if falco arranges his ride with gabi and i arrange my ride with you. i live two streets down from your apartment.” 

you give him a sly smile. 

“i thought you highly doubted that there were any special skills that i could provide to you.” 

“driving is hardly a special skill.” eren retorts. 

“it is when you don’t have a car. and need to rely on someone else to give you one.” you goad. 

eren sighs. you swivel back towards your computer, slowly opening up the computer and quickly shutting the tab all the way on the right and pulling up the maps. 

“i suppose i have to oblige. and while it is time and cost effective, there is a third, and more superior motive, for falco and gabi.” you respond. 

eren raises his eyebrows. 

“there is?” 

you scoff. 

“are you blind? they like each other. riding together means they get more alone time.” 

eren rolls his eyes, as leans properly into your cubicle this time, hunching over the back of your chair to be level with your line of sight. you note that his cheek is inches away from brushing yours – that the smell of his cologne is very strong – as he offers the address to his apartment. 

“that’s hardly a superior motive. cost and time are more important than something as frivolous as that.” 

“it’s not frivolous to them. though, i understand it can be hard to relate to when you don’t understand the feeling.” 

eren scoffs. 

“and you do?” 

no you don’t. at least not right now. at least not in a way that people understood anyways. 

“i might.” 

“no you don’t. connie talks, far too often. if you had a partner, we’d all be aware of it. and knowing you, he’d be just as irritating as the blonde that sasha brings around.” 

you quickly type in the address that eren provided, as you note the route from your street to his. 

“niccolo isn’t irritating.” 

sometimes he was. 

“is he not the reason you spilled coffee all over yourself two weeks ago?” eren asks. 

“no. he wasn’t.” you state. 

according to sasha and niccolo, he was. 

“irritating is the wrong word for it. he’s an…acquired taste. i don’t wish ill towards him at all, it’s just that his demeanor can be a little much as time. as is sasha’s.” eren starts. 

you seethe. did he really think you wouldn’t report back to them with every word that he said? 

“they’re just –” 

“i doubt the sincerity of their enthusiasm all the time. can someone really be so lively at all times? though in my case, that most definitely reflects more on me as a person than it does on them.” 

you pause. you pause because you’d had that same exact thoughts – not once or twice, but almost on a daily basis. it’s just that it was coming out of eren’s mouth now.  

you pause because eren does, almost frozen at your side, inching towards brushing his cheek against yours, as he shoots up, standing straight behind you. eren clears his throat, entirely dismissing the comment that he just shared, as he sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“i can walk to your house so you can avoid the drive. i usually pick up coffee from play in the mornings so i can either compensate you for the gas through a latte or just cash.” 

you can’t help but snort. 

“are you offering to buy me coffee?” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“were you dropped as a kid? you can’t just accept the offer as it is?” eren asks. 

there it was. he was back to normal. 

“i’ll take the latte. but i’ll drive you there. it’s supposed to rain. wouldn’t want you to look unprofessional.” 

eren glares. 

“that’s more time required together than necessary.” 

you roll your eyes. did he need to be so persistent in his hatred of you? 

“that’s more of a hazard for me than it is for you. because of your car virus. and your godawful personality, of course.” 

eren gives you a pinched smile. 

“i appreciate it, y/n. i’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

there’s barely even a hint of earnestness in his voice. 

the message pops up almost the second he leaves. 

[busstopbilly]: I hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: so you’ll go to secret gardens in my mind? 

[busstopbilly]: That was a statement. Not a quote from The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: did your sister like the album :D 

[busstopbilly]: She prefers the standard edition. I like the Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: because you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy? 

[busstopbilly]: You could say that. 

[busstopbilly]: Except, I hate finance. 

[busstopbilly]: Not too keen on poetry. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: hilarious

[lizontopoftheworld]: but really. what is it? 

[busstopbilly]: My sister is visiting. It seems that I poured her micellar water (whatever that is) into my contacts case instead of the solution last night. It seems whatever it is, it has gone to my brain and caused me to overshare – particularly too much – with one of my peers. That and the fact that two of my peers showed up to my house at six in the morning with a proposition that I’ve hesitantly agreed upon, though I’m not sure if I did the right thing. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s definitely not water, by the way. It burned. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: OH EW 

[lizontopoftheworld]: GROSS

[lizontopoftheworld]: micellar water is like makeup remover. so it definitely had chemicals and stuff in it…

[lizontopoftheworld]: are you blind :O 

[busstopbilly]: Quite the contrary. I just wore my glasses instead, though my eyes are slightly pink still. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: glasses :O 

[busstopbilly]: ? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I am slowly collecting an image of you in my mind based off of things that you have told me. green eyes and glasses (sometimes). that’s all i’m going on. 

[busstopbilly]: So close. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: and we all overshare. who gaf they probably won’t even remember. and i’m sure you made the right decision. 

[busstopbilly]: Oh trust me. She’ll remember what I said. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: wallflower…? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :D 

[busstopbilly]: Shut up. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: remember when u had a crush on wallflower and stalked her entire life before she came to ur program 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lol 

[lizontopoftheworld]: heheheheheheheh

[lizontopoftheworld]: BRO RESPOND I SWEAR TO GOD 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t have a crush on her anymore. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yes yes i recall im just saying its FUNNY 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t see the humor. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m an acquired taste. 

[busstopbilly]: I’m well aware. 

[busstopbilly]: Just my type actually. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lame. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i basically set that one up 

[busstopbilly]: And you still liked it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: true 

[busstopbilly]: :)  

--

focus group is the best day of the week. 

the focus group is simple; you, eren, falco, and gabi interview all the participants every week and monitor their baseline levels and compare them as you continue through the treatment.  

it starts out that way, but mostly ventures into all four of you staying late to converse with the patients. it’s outside of the parameters, but something that almost everyone – the group of you included – turn your nose away from because it gives the patients something other to do than just sitting around alone when you leave. 

“do you have a boyfriend, gabi?” 

nanaba loved to get up close and personal. 

it was something that you noted the first day you met her, when she lingered around after the focus group to ask you why you seemed to look at eren with such disdain. a rather polite way of asking why the two of you were glaring daggers at each other, but more keenly, something she was clearly nosy about but ready to soothe away with the age old wisdom she seemed and wanted to impart in every sentence. 

“the real question is do you want a boyfriend? i’m sure that we could find one for you tomorrow.” 

shadis loved to get up close and personal too. a nicer way to describe meddling, but you knew that he was always well-meaning at heart. 

and at least he was more in touch with your suspicions about falco and gabi then eren was. 

“are you going to go get me one from the store?” gabi asks, earning her a smile from eren, who was glued to the wall and finishing checking off all the signatures from the paperwork. 

“why would i need to go to the store? i have a perfectly normal one for you right here.” shadis responds, pointing to falco who goes immediately pink in the face. 

“oh, now you’re just embarrassing him.” marco states. 

marco bodt was the youngest of the group and the final edition to this pool after falco’s brother. 

he was barely twenty-one and with irreparable damage to the right side of his body that impaired most of his motor functions. a similar mechanism to colt, marco was crushed under the metal of his car on the way to the grocery store – he may have survived but he was never the same after. 

and seemingly because of it, filled with an over-exerting amount of kindness. but you have a hunch that he was just always like that. the pacifist. 

you walk over to the end of the table to where colt is sitting, rather stifly against the back of his chair, with his hands folded directly on the table. the first three focus group he had been to were admittedly overwhelming, but it felt like he was having a hard time adjusting to the dynamics there. 

especially after he failed almost all the diagnostic tests that were done after the treatment. he was always more receptive at the start, but a quiet shell by the time you were all done. 

falco didn’t take it very well. 

“hi colt.” 

he gives you a halfhearted smile, his eyes still trained on falco and gabi arguing a few feet away from the two of you, the fight being mediated by eren and his plastic clipboard. 

“hi y/n.” he responds. 

“how was the session today?” 

colt sighs. 

“standard.” 

“you know, if you would prefer to do this one on one, i can always arrange for you and me to discuss what’s been going on at another time.” 

colt shakes his head. 

“that would worry falco. if i wanted to hide something from him.” 

despite not being able to remember him, it seemed to be the only thing that colt cared about. and one of the only reasons that you were convinced that he was still in there – that you could get him back if you tried hard enough.  

“well, we’re not worrying about falco. my main concern is you and what makes you comfortable, so if you prefer to answer questions about everything that’s been going on without him present, i can work something out.” 

you pause. 

“without him knowing.”  you add. 

colt gives you a halfhearted shrug, but you can tell that the idea is simmering behind his almost hazel eyes. 

“i can tell he gets upset when i don’t get the questions right. i try harder than i should to remember but i’m unsure if that messes up things on your ends if i…i feel this pressure when i’m doing all your tests.” 

you look across the room, locking eyes with eren who seems to already be watching, as you gesture for him to join you. and he obliges, quick and quiet as falco and gabi are still being harassed by the lot of them, and crouches down. 

“i want to remember my brother. probably even more than him because every interaction i have makes me feel like everyone has something over me, but i just…i just can’t.” 

eren gives you a questioning look. 

“everything okay?” eren asks. 

“i was just discussing with colt here that maybe we could ask his screening questions in private. sans falco and gabi maybe.” you murmur. 

“i see. anything that makes you comfortable, colt.” eren offers. 

eren’s swift with it, leaning against the chair between the two of you, and with a surprisingly soft smile. 

“i want you to do this to the best of your ability. eren and i just want to do this in a way that makes you feel comfortable.” you offer. 

eren seems to give you a nudging look, green eyes beaming into yours, as he catches the hint. 

“every time it doesn’t work, it gives me a better idea of where to try next. i’ll get the right spot eventually and while it feels like the work is exhaustive right now, it’s narrowing down what’s going to work for you. please know that everything that you do, even the mistakes, tell me and y/n a lot about where we can move forward with this.” 

colt sighs, almost like he’s taking a thoughtful second to consider it over.

“i just hate disappointing him. he wouldn’t know…if i wanted to do it with just the two of you?” colt asks. 

“not a word.” you affirm. 

“don’t tell gabi either. they’re basically attached at the hip – i doubt she would be able to keep it in with the big crush she has on him.” colt jokes. 

you smile, reaching to elbow eren in the side. he rolls his eyes, giving you a steely glare, as you turn back to colt. 

“eren doesn’t see it. i have now proven him wrong by the majority.” 

“about falco and gabi? oh, it’s obvious. he’s like bright pink every time they talk to each other.” colt jokes. 

you turn to eren and smile. 

“eren’s just painfully oblivious.” you state. 

eren gives you a snide smile before glaring at you in full. you swear that he’s fighting the urge to smile when you laugh at him. 

“something the two of you have in common.” colt responds. 

you give colt a confused look, which finally breaks eren’s silence and makes him laugh, as he gestures for the two of you to join him back at the main group. eren can tell that gabi and falco are being teased enough, the two of them bright pink in the cheeks like colt mentioned, as he leans against gabi. 

“alright. we’re all done for the day.” eren states. 

“as if. we just started talking about this in seriousness. don’t be ridiculous, eren.” nanaba states. 

“don’t be a hard ass. you can stay for thirty more minutes.” shadis adds. 

eren gives them a smile. 

“while i would love to, i do fear the resident doctor will, for a better lack of terms, be a hard ass and make us leave.” 

they all groan. 

“not forester.” nanaba groans. 

floch forester was the resident physician on wednesdays. the only downside to focus group was making his acquaintance every week, checking through the charts under his jurisdiction and checking out with him at the end. 

it was hard to pick one thing about him that was irritating. he was exceedingly arrogant when he explained things to you and eren – always giving the impression that he believed the two of you were incompetent idiots who knew nothing about the topic at all. or just an irritating and agitating prick otherwise. 

“i heard him call y/n sweetheart last week.” colt mentions. 

there’s a resounding group of gasps as they all turn their heads to you, marco and nanaba’s eyes nearly boggling out of their heads as they basically gesture for you to confirm. 

“he was explaining the behavioral scales to me that we use in the grading. i told him there was no need and he responded by saying it’s not a problem sweetheart.” you offer. 

you shoot colt a glare, which he only responds to with a smile, as they all break out into their rather melodramatic responses. 

“we should have him fired, the prick why is he talking down to her like she didn’t have a job similar to this before?” shadis asked. 

“that’s inappropriate. you wouldn’t see him calling eren sweetheart. this is ridiculous.” nanaba adds. 

“if it makes you uncomfortable, i’m sure you could report it to someone, y/n.” marco offers. 

you laugh, waving your hands at them. 

“that would be unnecessary. i didn’t think much of it and i really don’t see him that often anyways.” 

eren turns to you and glares. 

“you see him every week. if he’s going to make weird comments, you don’t have to put up with it.” 

“i’d rather avoid the hassle.” you state. 

eren rolls his eyes, firmly crossing his arms over his chest. 

“it’s not a hassle. it’s borderline harassment. and with a guy like that, you have to nip things in the bud.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“it’s not that deep. every time i interact with him, someone is there with me. i’m a big girl and i can ignore it.” 

eren sighs. 

“you might be a big girl but you have to know you’re not the only girl he does that to. and if he’s not doing it to anyone else now, he definitely will later. you could just check him and put him in his place now. or better yet let me do it.” 

you shake your head. if there was one thing floch hated, it was eren telling him what to do. it would be better taste to nip that argument in the bud before it happened. 

“it’s fine, eren. if it escalates into something weird, i’ll tell you myself.” 

eren gives you a questioning look, almost like he doesn’t believe you, before eren turns back to the group of them. 

“i have a sneaking suspicion you won’t.” 

you give him a glare, before shaking him off and turning back to the group of them. eren seems to take the hint and follows your suit. 

“as always, y/n is a boring topic of conversation. i would love to go back to what we were discussing earlier. i was unaware of these predilections gabi and falco shared.” 

eren smiles, turning to where gabi is now giving him an irritated look while falco looks at you with pleading eyes. you shake your heads as shadis and nanaba return to talking about the beauties of love and relationships. eren waits for the conversation to get rowdy enough to the point where they’re arguing, which gives the two of you the time to slip away and turn in the documents to the front desk. 

“i can bring your stuff down if you want to bring the car around. i can also go get the car for you if you’re scared to walk in the dark.” eren offers. 

the kindness is strange. but you can tell it’s only transactional so he would have an excuse to fight with floch. 

“it’s barely sunset.” you state. 

eren shrugs. 

“there could be perverts in the parking lot.” 

the two of you note an unmistakable head of red hair walking down the hallway and internally groan. 

“i’d argue that they’re actually inside.” you murmur. 

you note that eren smiles as floch walks up to the two of you, his fists deep in his white coat as he gives you an almost synthetic smile. 

“jaeger. y/n. always a pleasure to see you. how are my patients?” floch asks. 

“requesting a new doctor. desperately.” eren states. 

you note that floch’s eye twitches, but still offers a fake peachy smile. 

“you have an interesting sense of humor, eren.” 

“i wasn’t joking.” eren deadpans. 

you can’t help but smile, as floch turns over to you. 

“and how are you, sweetheart?” 

“i’m fine.” 

eren signs, almost exasperatedly at your side, before talking. eren had an issue with keeping his thoughts to himself. but this was the first time that it worked in your favor. 

“it seems that we’ll be requesting a new doctor to work with too.” eren states. 

“and why is that?” 

“you’re borderline harassing my co-worker.” 

“harassing?” 

“she has a name. it’s y/n. it would be best practice for you to use it.” eren states. 

floch rolls his eyes, as he signs off on the paperwork at the top of the deck, that eren snatches from him just as fast. 

“she’s never corrected me.” floch states. 

“because i doubt you let her get a word in. she introduced herself to you as y/n. you should refer to her as such.” 

floch puts his hands up, almost jokingly like he’s guilty, and you can’t help but sneer at him. 

“sue me. i’m sorry, y/n. i will refrain. unless things ever change between us, of course.” 

you turn to eren, giving him a disgusted look, as he gestures for you to leave. you take the hint as such, hopping down the stairs and leaving the two of them to it as you rush towards the car. and two flights down, you feel the familiar buzz in your pocket. 

[busstopbilly]: I still hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: boo 

[lizontopoftheworld]: same lowk. everyday i become a bigger misandrist 

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: random tangent

[lizontopoftheworld]: how is your mom 

[busstopbilly]: The other day she was having a difficult time. Called me by my dad’s name.

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….

[lizontopoftheworld]: ouch

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. It is what it is. There’s some good days where she tries to tell me storeis she’s never told me before. It’s weird to think that they won’t be there at some point. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah i’ve been thinking about that a lot. if it’s better if it goes all at once or if you…have to watch them go away

[lizontopoftheworld]: what do you think? 

[busstopbilly]: Biased, but watch them go away. It’s hard to have a good day sometimes and a bad day the next. My sister actually came to stay with me since she was having a rough time kind of dealing with the up and down. Emotionally. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :( 

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s hard when you’re a teenager

[lizontopoftheworld]: is your moms condition genetic? 

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s scary to think about sometimes. 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t want to forget you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lucky for us, every interaction we’ve ever had has been perfectly preserved. i’d read them all to you until you remembered. 

[busstopbilly]: You stole that from the Notebook. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: the thought still counts >:( 

[busstopbilly]: I can make an exception. Everything counts with you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i really hope you don’t forget me either. 

[busstopbilly]: Well, I imagine that it would be insanely hard to do that. You’re basically scored on my heart, you know? 

[lizonotopoftheworld]: you stole that from me before you 

[busstopbilly]: The thought still counts. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah yeah i'll make an exception or whatever

[lizontopoftheworld]: i will note that your impeccable memory of all the cheesy movies i have made you watch is a great sign :) 

[busstopbilly]: Very hopeful but I’ll have to agree on this one.

you look up from your phone when you hear the crunching of gravel, accompanied by eren walking up to the car and greeting you with a wave. you shove your phone in the pocket and abandon the conversation. 

“any pervert encounters?” 

“just you.” you state. 

“I could say the same.” eren responds, as he walks around to the side door and crawls into your front seat.

--

next part linked here

an: this is setup. I also haven't written in forever so its bad. sorry.

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme @elliesbabygirl @miniaturemartian @differentrunawayperson

[yayll]

Hiii i hope you're feeling better soon :(( I was wondering if I could request a Dazai x reader fic where the reader has PTSD? Specifically, the beginning of autumn kind of triggers her (sorry if it's a confusing i dunno how to word it lol) Could it be fluff/comfort? Btw I love your writing style so badly so pls tweak the idea if you think it would work better! And no worries if you'd rather pass :33

hii angel i genuinely am sorry that this took me a while! (work and life happened a little more than usual, GOT SICK and barely had time to sit down and write.) it was so ivover but i am fine now thank u so much bub!

i REALLY hope you like this and that it's what u wanted, i've never written someone w PTSD before and i was just rlly hoping i didn't mess this characterization up for ur request ahhh. i had such a nice time writing it and i rlly wanted to explore the impact it could have around reader and dazai and him going out of his way even if it could be a little goofy and sappy to make u feel at least a little better even if u can't talk abt it.

i love uuuu thank u again! <3

~ a little something about Dazai noticing harmful patterns and loving you through them ~

He's been watching you sit by the window for the past half hour as you stare at what seems like the beginning of the new season outside. You were quieter than usual, more withdrawn and jumpy, which could only mean that you weren't sharing something with him- or rather having trouble processing something to the point where you didn't realize he could tell something inside you was on high alert.

Dazai would rather die than see you in such a state, especially during what's supposed to be such an exciting time of the year that's full of the things you usually love to do. Whatever is impeding you from enjoying the leaves falling has to be dealt with the most delicate of methods, but especially with love. If you taught him anything about the past haunting you to the point of mental distress, something he suffered bouts of every now and then when memories made days grow dark, it's that all you need is one person to truly witness you. Just like how you've seen the ugliest parts of him time and time again yet you still look at him with all the stars in the sky, stars he consumes like a black hole waiting to be filled.

Luckily for you, he has an arsenal of things he can try to soothe you with, because he wouldn't be a good detective AND boyfriend if he didn't keep all those context clues in his pocket for a bad day. Mainly though, he was just completely attuned to your every need. You are his happiness, and your wellness isn't up for debate: It's mandatory. He stands up from the loveseat with a deep exhale as he walks over to you, his lips curled in a lazy smile as he tests the waters to see what you could need from him without asking.

"You know, if you stay any more still I could probably paint you like one of those fancy paintings. What do you say, be my model?"

You look over at him from the window, and he can visibly tell you haven't been at ease lately. He suddenly realizes he's just fallen even more in love with you. That there is nothing in this world that could ever let him see you as anything but his heart.

You murmur, a faint smile decorating your serene face.

"Mm, I'm not sure. I don't think I could pose for that long, you know? It would probably be hard to catch my likeness, heh."

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes with a playful smirk. Oh how he wants to lean in and worship your likeness with his loving touch, but he decides to take it easy on the physical affection for now, not until he knows you're feeling up for it. He can be a good boy, something he usually isn't.

"Well, I wouldn't mind being the brave young knight who tries~ Shall we take this outside for better lighting?"

You instantly don't give him a good reaction to that. You shrug, seeming conflicted and unsure of yourself, but unable to really bring yourself to explain with words, something uncharacteristic of you.

No problem! Dazai thinks to himself. If you don't want to go outside, he can bring outside to you in the comfort of home. He'll enhance your safe space, and tailor it to just what you need. He hums, tapping his temple in an exaggerated manner as if he were thinking really hard and when he sees that it gets a small giggle out of you, he knows he's on the right track.

"Hm, I know what we should do instead. Wait here, angel.~"

He disappears into the hallway and you sit there as the sound of cabinets opening and rummaging around fills the air. You smile to yourself, and shake your head at the mental image of Dazai becoming a tornado to find whatever he's looking for right now, hoping he doesn't make too much of a mess. You fidget with your hair, twirling it in between your fingers as you take a deep grounding breath while you wait.

A moment later, he comes back with what seems like art supplies and a ton of mini candlesticks.

He knows you're intrigued when you tilt your head in confusion, but then again that's probably just the confusion... Dazai sets down two canvases along with the candles, flashing you a mischievous grin. If you couldn't process your feelings through words, art was always there! You look over the activities he's laid out for you both, awaiting his silver tongued explanation.

"You know when I want to be the little spoon but I don't say anything?"

You laugh softly, and nod.

"Mhm, you get all moody and weird."

He nods back, a half smile on his face as he rests his hands on his hips. He wants to tell you that the only reason he even knew such intimate luxuries is because you showed him that he's worthy of it, of being loved, but he doesn't say anything. He lets the sweet memories between you swim through his mind as fuel for the day he's trying to create for you. His voice sounds more like he's talking out loud now, lost in a thought..

"You make me moody and weird. You also make me want to grab your soft little face and just..."

He then snaps back to the moment, and his tone picks up.

"... But alas, there is no time to waste! Come, sit, I'll get the other things ready.~"

He zooms off to the kitchen, and your heart softens at how much he fusses over you, though you also hope you aren't being too much. You know he'd hate to hear that, so you simply sit down and look over the supplies you had honestly forgotten you had.

Dazai makes tea, because he knows it helps with your fidgeting and you like how the mug feels in your hands, he also begins to set the candle sticks all over the living room, lighting them one by one. You flash him a look of faint concern.

"Feels like Dracula's castle. You sure this is safe, Osamu?"

He simply grins impishly.

"It's called 'mood lighting', cutie. There is an atmosphere to be created!"

"Yeah, and possibly a wildfire."

"Boo, you're no fun. Besides, that sounds like a problem for future us. We live in the moment."

Dazai would never risk your safety and you know that, which is why you don't push the topic any further.

You two settle in, the candles illuminating you both with a warm flame that feels more comforting than you'd like to admit, you feel yourself becoming more immersed in the random little doodles and brush strokes you create as you both talk for hours about literally nothing while sipping on your tea. Nothing feels nice, for once and Dazai can see it in the way you slowly become less and less tense. So mindful, so beautiful.

After you fill your canvas, you set it down, and peer over at Dazai's.

"What'd you paint?"

He smiles sheepishly, and hides his.

"Not finished yet. No peeking!"

He stands up and in one swift motion, runs outside, while leaving you bewildered at the spontaneity of the situation. A few moments later, he runs back inside, huffing with his arms behind his back. He sits back down on the floor with you, criss crossed. He grabs his canvas, and puts something on it as he slowly unveils his work to you.

It's a single crisp leaf he must have plucked from the grass when it fell, the orange and reddish hue placed on the canvas that shows a cartoonishly painted tree as well. He murmurs, eyes trained lovingly on you but with that familiar playful tone.

"I wanted you to get a little air. It's good for one's mood, you know."

You slowly take the leaf, and twiddle it in your thumb as you begin to smile to yourself. You mutter back.

"The weather changes, moods change, it's so overwhelming sometimes..."

He slowly leans in a little closer and places a hand on the small of your back, inching you closer to him too. He wants to distract you from those thoughts affecting you, but it's getting harder when all he can think about is how much you affect him. He whispers.

"My mood never changes, you're the most precious thing I have ever seen all year round."

You look up at him, your eyes communicating what you feel, and he picks up on it with a silent confirmation. You hold each other's gaze for a long quiet moment and when you feel ready you lean into his chest, nuzzling into him. He envelops you in a hug that feels like the remedy you've been searching for this whole time, and it almost brings you to tears. You don't know it also does the same to him. He gives you a soft squeeze and leans down to your ear, his warm breath feeling like the way life is supposed to feel. You mumble, your voice slightly muffled against him.

"Thank you, Osamu. Love you."

He smiles at that. To be something so soothing to you, to be of use for once in his life, it's a feeling that he could never describe. He'll have to find the words when he covers you in kisses from head to toe later, when he makes sure you feel the full extent of his devotion to you through thick and thin. He exhales deeply.

"Change of season, change of mind... It doesn't matter to me. It's still you. It will always be you."

[my-usernames-posts]

Why I will never get over Tian and Phupha

And no, its not because its outside the usual university/office context. (well yes it adds to the reason but hear me out).

Classic Thai BL is how a rich boy with issues meets poor boy with a big heart who gives him confidence to open his heart again. Jealous ex, old girl crush, second lead, poorly shown confusion about ones sexuality…. But this one? Almost none of it.

Well poor boy rich boy yes & no. Tian is a rich boy who is having a tough time coping with the prospect of death. He was not heartbroken from an ex…. he was genuinely frustrated from having no goals, a comfortable life with little room to aspire for more, no clue of his interests. And then he knows he might just die one day before he even gets to 30. Then one fine day Torfun’s unfortunate death saves his life. He feels burdended with guilt. A horrible guilt to live with. There was this young woman, with hopes, dreams, a desire to do good for the village kids. Because of his parents connections & wealth he not only cuts the line but also gets to prolong a life he was living aimlessly. Unhappily.

But now for the first time in his life, guilt it may be, drives him to actually do something. The near death experience pushes him to try something new & seek something in this second life that was bestowed upon him. Also notice how it’s not poor boy teaches rich boy there is so much to live for. Tian finds a reason to keep going by himself. Phupha was a sweet bonus on the side that made out worthwhile for him to stick around in a remote place (and as a city kid let me tell you living in such remote places semi permanently is hard for us. It’s a 360 degree lifestyle change)

And idk if it is Tian or Mix but he has this firm yet gentle feminine charatcter about him. He is just a little bratty with Phupa to get his attention. He doesn’t wait like the princess to be pursued, he initiates. But when hints are thrown at him he shows he picks on them and still plays just a little hard to get.

Also Phupha. Earth just does it so well as a reserved masculine lead 😂 but even then, him caring for Tian seems more of a protective instinct. It feels like at first he had this prejudice knowing who Tian is, that he wouldn’t be able to bear hardships. However at the same time he’s hit with the fact just how attractive he finds this man. Sure he must have given up on dating after being heartbroken losing his father…. But think about it. He’s near the border. Few colleagues & families in the village. There was Torfun. He knew she liked him. Although not explicit he was probably gay & could not afford to come out in such a tight knit village where many don’t understand it. They may not be homophobic, but they also may not understand what being gay is. And they keep telling him to get a “wife”. Then comes this man who is attractive, sassy AND into him? Phupha may not be this brooding masculine guy after all he might just be unaware of how to flirt confidently. Especially with a man.

Leaving aside the manufactured conflict which could’ve been done so much better…. Phupha is such a shy character. He doesn’t show much affection in public. And in Our Skyy 2 it is clear just how insecure he feels seeing Tian has moved & changed his lifestyle to suit him but he’s barely done that much of a lifestyle change for him. And the difference in social class makes it hard for him to see Tian’s parents. He must have worked so hard to get that diamond & plan the proposal w his parents🥹

And I love how genuine the ending feels. Tian gives his life abroad a chance & ultimately decides he wants to go teach in that village. Phupha knows he likes his job & sets Tian free saying he’ll wait for him but doesn’t expect him to return. It was not a real compromise on careers or dreams, but a natural draw they had towards each other & the place & its community.

[potatomountain]

"Why Do You Love?"

❤️‍🩹 pairing: ex Hongjoong x gn!reader x bf Yunho

❤️‍🩹 wc: 2k

❤️‍🩹 au: idol

❤️‍🩹 genre: angst, exes to lovers.

❤️‍🩹 warnings: one punch, hurt/comfort, angst

❤️‍🩹 summary: Your ex finds out who you left him for, just before he released a song that shows just how he feels about your absence

❤️‍🩹 AN: how DARE Kim Hongjoong just drop that mv and put me in my feels so here I am putting him in some feels

❤️‍🩹 an unedited piece written during an overworked weeked at 4am every night i should've been in bed but Kim Hongjoong dictates my life so here we are

❤️‍🩹 nets: @pirateeznet @mirohs-aurora-society

❤️‍🩹 Banner made by me- would have included Yunho but could not find a Pic that matched the vibe I wanted. For other works: Masterlist

The way Hongjoong's expression crumbled tore your heart to pieces all over again. You had only seen that expression once before, the day you had broken things off with him a couple months ago. You told him then you had fallen out of love with him, and in love with someone else.

But you never said who.

Now he knew, staring at the way Yunho's hands pulled the blanket over your shoulders to cover your exposed torso as Yunho himself maneuvered himself to shield you from view.

Without looking at his elder, his Captain, Yunho addressed him, “It's usually polite to knock Hyung.”

You attempted to look at him over Yunho's shoulder, but Yunho moved to block you, meeting your gaze instead.

Both of you knew you couldn't keep it from him forever, but this wasn't how you wanted him to find out. How could you tell him that the man you figuratively left him for was his own group mate? 

“I- Yeosang forgot- offered to grab-” Hongjoong’s trembling voice was so loud in your ears, despite being so soft, that you flinched at the sound.

It wasn't like you ever wanted to hurt him, never intentionally, breaking up with him hadn't been an easy decision. Yes you told him that you didn't love him anymore but that wasn't really the case, you just realized he didn't have room for you in his life and it was hurting you with how hard you were trying to make a place. 

Touring was understandable, so was his work, but when you found yourself giving all your free time for just a crumb of his attention, it had been too much.

Especially since his own band member showed you that it didn't have to be that way. Yunho made time for you. He messaged you between locations for filming, and on breaks from practice. He invited you over for games, brought you food whenever you were waiting for Hongjoong to leave his studio, and comforted you on many occasions when you cried with the realization that Hongjoong wasn't going to text you or visit despite waiting hours.

Neither of you had wanted to fall in love with the other, but it had taken Yunho having a breakdown over Hongjoong’s treatment of you for you both to realize it had happened. 

You had kissed him on impulse, and that led to your decision that you needed to break things off with Hongjoong.

Lost in the spiral of your emotions, you were brought back by Yunho's hand on your cheek. He opened his mouth to speak but you could hear someone else calling out to your ex-boyfriend instead. 

“Shit. Shit…Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice got closer and closer until he was panting in the doorway to Yunho's bedroom. . “Oh fuck-”

Seonghwa was the only one you both told, as Yunho had gone to him for advice. Which you had been following.

Break up with Hongjoong- check.

Keep away from the boys, in particular him for a few weeks- check.

See how you and Yunho click as a couple before Hongjoong finds out- also check but you both wanted to hold off until the man seemed to move on. 

This was not how he was supposed to find out. And the reason, what you all predicted would happen… did.

He was either going to implode or explode and the realization that Seonghwa had known resulted in the external conflict. 

Yunho kept the sight hidden from you but you heard plenty. He was yelling, the hurt in each word twisting the guilty knife in your gut that spurred tears.

Seonghwa shrunk under his harsh words, trying to get a word in but Hongjoong was having none of it. He started accusing you both of cheating, a few harsh demeaning words you had never heard Hongjoong say before we're now being thrown at you.

You sobbed out, covering your ears and hunching over to try and hide yourself in the blanket further now that Yunho wasn't by your side: he had stood up to intervene when Hongjoong had started insulting you.

There was a moment of silence at your sob, and then an echoing sound of skin on skin impact. Your head snapped up, Hongjoong's head twisted awkwardly to the side and Yunho's fist balled up in front of him. Yunho had hit Hongjoong.

“This was a mistake. This was-” You scrambled to put your clothes back on, feeling their eyes in you as you did. You and Yunho hadn't gotten far, it was your first time attempting intimacy past a few kisses, but of course Hongjoong didn't know that, considering he accused you a moment ago of two timing him and probably fucking Yunho whenever he was at the studio.

It hurt, and all you could think about is that you ruined their relationship, that you made their lives so much harder now. Could they even work together now? Yunho hit Hongjoong. What if Yunho got removed from the group?

Your tears made it difficult to find your bag but it was Seonghwa that held it up. Your eyes met his briefly and there was so much emotion there. He pitied you, an apology there you didn't think you deserved either, but you didn't dwell on it. You were out the door without looking at the other two.

By the time you reached the front door, you heard Yunho's harsh tone directed at Hongjoong, repeating some of the things he told you when he had broken down about your treatment. Now he seemed to be saying them to the source, angrily. 

You didn't stick around to hear how it went.

Not even two days later you saw it. His socials were plastered with it, as were the group's main socials. You expected another teaser for the upcoming Japanese release, but it was the YouTube notification from KQ you clicked on that brought you to a music video. 

“Why Do You Love?”

You should've backed out as soon as you saw his face, should've exited the video as you heard his voice- but just like everything else Hongjoong does you were captivated.

Tears were running down your cheeks by the end of the video, vision too blurry to even see the image any more.

What were you supposed to do about this? You knew, knew it was for you- but for him to release it right after he finds you with Yunho? It hurt so much.

You could only sob, the guilt on your shoulders heavier than before. The song was playing on loop as your own form of personal torture.

The worst part is he was right, you still thought of him. You still loved him, wanted him, even when you were in Yunho’s arms. 

That didn't mean you loved Yunho any less, that you would leave him for Hongjoong if he changed his ways. You didn't know what it meant.

And under all the crushing weight, you did nothing. Your inaction stretched for days, even ignoring the texts and calls of your boyfriend, and everything to do with Ateez.

You unfollowed the official accounts, even muted the apps. Your phone you kept on silent, only paying attention to work. You ghosted Yunho, and the longer that went on the harsher the guilt.

A couple weeks passed and this day felt different. It didn't… hurt as much. You braved the Ateez YouTube channel again, turning on the music Video and pulling your legs up to your chest. You stared at Hongjoong's face on the screen, letting his voice ring around you and soak into your soul.

You shut your eyes to stop the tears from falling as you murmured the last lines of the song. “No you, there's no me.”

There was a loud crash that jostled you out of your once more depressing thoughts, physically jumping and swiveling in the direction of the sound. Your eyes about bulged out of your skull at the sight of Hongjoong there, on his knees, tears in his eyes.

Yunho of all people stood behind him, attempting to mask the pain that the sight of you caused. He murmured your name, but didn't come closer.

Turning the TV off, you stood up on shaky legs. “What are…. Why are you here?” The question was directed at them both, but you couldn't look at either. 

How pathetic were you right now? When was the last time you did your skin care? Or washed the pajamas you were in. You stunk of depression, and the fact that they felt looser on you than before showed that you lost weight- reminding you that your appetite had been almost nonexistent these last weeks.

Depression does that you suppose.

“I'm sorry.” Hongjong gasped out, picking himself off the floor and making his way to you. His presence was a reminder of the last words he said and you flinched away from him.

You looked away when you spotted the hurt in his eyes by your actions. “I'm not a cheater. I never did.” You weakly defended yourself, weeks later.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I fucked up. I'm sorry I really fucked up I shouldn't have said- I know you didn't cheat baby.” He reached out for you almost desperately. “I know you didn't do anything wrong-”

“Then why the video?” You sobbed out, having no energy to stop him from pulling you against his chest. The best you could muster were your hands on his chest to keep some space.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hand on the back of your head. “I wrote it before I found out. It was already in our editors hands and scheduled, I didn't remember about it until it was too late."

“Then why-”

“Because I'm selfish. I wanted all your time but wouldn't give you mine. I… they set me straight, I know now how much I was hurting you baby, I'm so sorry. Yunho shouldn't have been the one to make you happy when I was yours. That's my fault.”

You shook your head, pulling away. “It's too late. I-I ruined everything. You fought with your members and and- got physical I-”

“We've made amends.” Yunho clarified for you as he finally approached, no longer a bystander to the conversation. “And we want to make amends with you…”

You looked at them both, fresh tears in your eyes. “How? Joongie- ah Hongjoong-”

“No no, call me Joongie again. I missed it. I missed you Baby.” He nuzzled closer, rubbing his cheek against yours. “I want another chance. Please? Please can I have another chance. I'll do better. I can't… I can't do it without you.”

The lyrics of his song floated through your mind, taking your breath away. “I- but- Yunho-"

“We talked about that too.” You felt Yunho's large hand on your back, a kiss on the crown of your head. “We’re… willing to share. Especially after seeing you like this.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, pulling away to look at them in disbelief. You expected some hesitation or jealousy, some sort of tell this wasn't true. That they hadn't really come to such a decision. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water, trying to find words.

Yunho sighed, pulling you back to them. “Let’s clean you up first and feed you properly. You can decide then but I know you. I know you love him. I know you miss him. He’l have a place in your heart I won't but-”

“-But Yunho is special to you too. He cares for you in the way I should. Makes you happy, keeps you grounded. And without you… we’re both pretty miserable. So you need us both as much as we need you.” Hongjoong finished for him.

Yunho smirked as he pulled you to your room. “Look at you, taking Seonghwa  Hyung’s words as your own.”

Hongjoong flushed prettily, grabbing your hand and rushing to catch up. “Shut up. He's not wrong.”

You found yourself astonished how easy going they were now after the last time you saw them. Yunho chuckled at the shorter man and stuck his tongue out, the mood between them becoming playful. Enough it had you laughing, both turning to look at you in confusion.

Both had grins spreading across their faces that matched your own.

Maybe this love could work. Maybe.

Taglist (Form): @candypop1611 | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou

| @minheeskitten | @sousydive | @alextheweeb7 | @thesafecafe | @euphoricem

| @meepsters-world | @mysticfire0435 | @yejisuu | @apriecotte | @amphiroxx 

| @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630 | @isiloiale | @plutoneu | @venn-ie

| @therealcuppicake | @lavishloving | @pearltinyy | @vampiregirl215

| @heihaneul | @gugggu6gvai | @oddinaryxfever | @smally97 | @pandagirl-016

| @hecateslittlewitchling | @arinyyy | @lovelgirl22 | @stayatinykatsy | @noone356097

| @misskarynie | @cookiesandcreammy | @atinycravings | @klllerwaifu | @joongscheese |

| @missweepingwidow | @callmemaysblog | @yunhowooyo | @zzzaaajaaa | @00iheartmingi00 |

| @intowxnderland | @lover-ofallthingspretty | @fanficsruinedmylife |

[nylaboon]

Fell in Love With a Girl — Cooper Day

"Fell in love with a girl / I fell in love once and almost completely / She's in love with the world / But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading"

— in which Cooper comes clean to you about his troubles with Emma.

cooper day x gn!reader

tags: swearing, second person pov, fluff, not proofread, kinda shitty in my opinion but i tried my best

"Cooper, what's taking so long?" You inquired, feeling more and more frustrated with the boy. He was supposed to be helping you with your missing assignments, but he got sidetracked by a notification from his laptop. He was so distracted that he spent about three minutes staring at the screen, literally frozen in place. It was annoying, and the worst thing was that it was the third time he had been distracted by it, which meant that your work was taking even longer to complete.

The only reason why you even had missing assignments was because you got sick the previous week.

Strep throat. Possibly one of the worst and best illnesses a person can get. You felt like shit most of the time, but the upside was that you wouldn't have to go to school until it cleared. You just happened to catch it from a guy in your math class; how that happened was a damn mystery. You kept your distance and moved as far away from him as possible every time he so little as parted his lips to speak, but you still caught it. As a result, you took a week off from school, which didn't seem too bad at first, but that was until Cooper gave you an update on everything that went down during the week you spent at home whining about your sore throat and chugging shitty medicine. And it was one hell of an update, for sure.

He soon shifted his focus away from the screen and quickly closed it. He covered his face and moaned as he stood up from his desk and returned to his bed to sit next to you again. "Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about?"

You close your workbook, using your pencil to bookmark the page, and place it beside you. "Numbers and shit. Who was that?"

"Who was who?" You should have known he would respond to your question with one of his own. He always did this, and it was infuriating. In his defense, though, he didn't have to tell you who he was talking to if he didn't want to, therefore he was justified. Irritating as fuck, but justified.

"Don't play dumb," you advised, rolling your eyes at his feigned confusion. "Who were you emailing just now?" Cooper shrugged and glanced around the room. "Why does it matter?"

"It must matter since you keep running back to your laptop every two minutes."

"Well, it's closed now, so you don't have to worry about it. Lucky you." Cooper was not an open person, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. That being said, his dismissive behavior wasn't unusual. He always bottled up his emotions since he didn't know how to express them without assuming he sounded stupid. Unfortunately for him, you were nosy and constantly pestered him when he didn't tell you something, so he usually caved.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

He gave you a puzzled, defensive expression. "What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?"

"You're not denying it." Your logic garnered you a sneer from him, but he chose to simply change the subject to avoid further conflict.

"The more you argue with me over this, the more time you're wasting." He wasn't necessarily wrong about that, either. Instead of pressuring him to talk about it, you picked up your workbook and got back to work. Around twenty minutes later, you left to go to the bathroom, but when you finished and headed back to Cooper's room, he was sitting at his desk. Again. Instead of announcing your presence, you silently closed his bedroom door and crept up behind him, skimming through his laptop screen. He was reading an email from a girl who said she "missed him" and had been "thinking about him all day". It was a tough read, but it offered a great opportunity to make fun of him.

"Who's Emma?" You finally spoke up with a sly grin. Cooper jumped and shut his laptop in less than a second. He gave you an annoyed glare before sweeping his curls out of his face and looking away. He stood up from his chair and attempted to distance himself from you out of embarrassment.

"A friend," he mumbled.

"That didn't sound like a friend," you retorted.

"Why are you so worried about it?" Instead of answering his question, you mocked him.

You grabbed his arm and began swinging it, annoying him even more. Truth be told, you weren't particularly pleased with what you had found, but you were trying your best to conceal your displeasure via exaggerated excitement techniques. You had a mini-crush on him for a while (at least that's what you called it to persuade yourself that you didn't want him and were just being irrational for a year straight), and it was relatively upsetting to learn that he was talking to some girl he never mentioned to you. "Aw, Cooper has a girlfriend!"

He let you swing his arm, although he didn't seem thrilled about it. "She's not my girlfriend." You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay, sure," you replied, not believing him in the slightest. "And I'm not failing algebra."

"No, seriously," he affirmed. "She's not. We just started talking, like, a week ago."

"And how did that happen?"

It took him a while to gather enough courage to answer that question. "...she called me sexy."

"...seriously? Just- just straight up?" Cooper nodded. You cringed a bit. "Is she in any of your classes?" You asked. Little did you know, you wouldn't be prepared for his response. "...she's a junior."

"She's a what?!"

"Hear me out—"

"No!" That was odd. Wasn't it odd? How often did a freshman and a junior get together? Not very. You couldn't even begin to articulate your concern. Where do you even start? There was a lot to unpack in those three words. "Do you not see the issue with that?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, but she's hot, and I'm me. M'not really a chick magnet, so I kinda have to take what I can get."

"Take what you can get?" You repeated in astonishment. You had more to say, but he interrupted you before you had time to finish. "Plus, we already made out a lot, so I kinda dug myself into a hole." As if it couldn't get any worse...

Your eyes widened. The situation was almost unfathomable, and you could feel yourself about to explode out of anger. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm sixteen; what's the issue?" He asked in defense. You would've laughed at that lie if you weren't pissed off.

"You're fifteen, Cooper. Stop telling people that." For some unexplained reason, he kept lying about being a year older than he was. He'd been doing it since he was twelve, and it was actually pretty cute. And stupid.

"Well, I'm almost sixteen."

"Your birthday was two months ago."

"Still. That's basically a young adult."

"Not even!" He shook his head and sighed. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"I don't know," you replied. "Why are you dating a junior?" Cooper flung his head back, annoyed, before sitting on the edge of his bed. "We aren't dating, okay? And even if she was a freshman, I still wouldn't date her." That claim perplexed you. You stood in front of him, looking down at him with curiosity. "Why not?" You questioned.

He placed his elbow on his knee and let his chin rest in the palm of his hands. "Because she's not into me."

"But you just said she called you—"

"I know," he interjected. "You don't get it, though. She thinks I'm an idiot." He looked up at you for a minute, only to be met with your blank stare. "She's just using me to write shit for her."

"So, you don't like her; you just like being used?" You asked. He sneered at your cluelessness.

"I don't like being used. I just like the attention."

You sat down beside him, hands in your lap. You mumbled a soft "damn" and peered at the floor alongside him. "That fuckin' sucks."

"You don't say?" He replied sarcastically, leading you to nudge his shoulder. He sighed hopelessly and continued his rant. "I don't think I'm ever getting in a relationship at this point."

"Don't say that," you pleaded. "You never know."

"I do know, though," he argued. "I'm weird. I don't fit anyone's standards. Not that I even care for relationships, but—"

"You fit mine."

Your honesty seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. He paused for a few seconds before proceeding with the conversation. "That's not what I meant, y/n. You're just a friend."

"That's not what I meant, either." He gazed at you, his eyes conveying his uncertainty. "I didn't mean it in a friendly way."

Cooper stared at you, completely stumped. You grumbled and rolled your eyes before clarifying yourself for him. For someone so smart, he could be so naive. "You idiot—I like you. That's what I meant."

Despite your clear confession, you were anything but calm. You wanted to bash your head through his window because you had just made the entire conversation awkward. Awkward because he was staring at you, visibly uncomfortable. Or maybe he was just stunned. You had hoped he was just stunned. Regardless, the room was quiet, which was enough to drive you insane on the inside.

"...dude, why?" He eventually asked.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"Why not?" You shrugged with sass but kept your attention away from him. You would prefer to not see your best friend become uncomfortable in your presence. Being in his presence at that moment was enough to make you want to shoot yourself in the head. "You really do have shitty taste in guys," he taunted, hoping to lighten the mood for you. You let out a bitter scoff. "But on a serious note, I didn't think you thought of me like that..."

"You learn something new every day." He cracked a brief chuckle before going back to his serious demeanor. You, however, were not laughing. "I'd rather you over Emma, y'know."

"Is that really the compliment you think it is?" You asked softly.

"Depends on how you take it," he replied. "But I did like her at first, just so you know. Before I even knew what she was up to. So do you know what that means?" It meant that even if he liked Emma, he still would have preferred you. Suddenly, you didn't want a bullet in your skull anymore. "Oh," you muttered while trying your best to not smile too hard. "Cool, cool. That's, like, rad."

"That's it?" He complained. "Just 'rad'?"

"Obviously not," you denied. "I just don't know how to react appropriately."

"How would you react if you were alone?" He asked, to which you immediately responded.

"I'd scream."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I guess that's fair. But do you know what I want to do?" You tilted your head to the side, urging him to continue. But he said nothing. Without wasting another second, he leaned into your proximity and connected your lips, as if he was testing the waters before diving in fully. The kiss was neither short nor too long. You eventually reciprocated, allowing your hands to drift to his face and grasp onto him. You didn't want him to pull away, but he did eventually. He took a breath and smiled nervously while backing away from you. Meanwhile, you were still trying to process his actions.

"…why'd you pull away?" You spoke up, giving him a fake look of disapproval. "I wasn't supposed to?"

"Did I say you could?" Cooper shook his head. "Exactly. So get back over here and kiss me before I throw a fit."

"As you wish."

written by @nylaboon

[bg3daydream]

Nurture (Davrin x Rook fic) Davrin's week day 1

A short Davrook one-shot I wrote for day one of Davrin's appreciation week, organized by @datvcompanionweeks. Inspired the prompt "nurture". I'll post it on AO3 too.

Summary: Davrin takes care of an overworked, sick Rook. Davrin x female Rook, all fluff and comfort.

“It doesn't make sense,” Rook grumbled. “I was fine.”

Little more than two weeks had passed since she and her team defeated the gods, and while in the middle of helping Minrathous and every other place that had been badly hit, Rook had seemed to collapse, which was very inconvenient considering everything there was sill to do and all the loose ends they still had to tie. 

She didn't know what had happened. Sure, she knew she was tired, but she was not expecting to start feeling sick, getting worse and worse, dizzy and unwell, until she'd almost fainted. 

Despite her weak attempts to say she was right, even if her eyes were closing, Davrin had made her stop what she was doing and sit down. 

They still used the Lighthouse sometimes, and as Bellara suggested it might provide whatever Rook needed, Davrin decided to take her there. By then, she was feeling too unwell to suggest anything else.

And so, there she was now, tucked in Davrin's bed, Assan curled at her feet as if he, too, wanted to help. 

“You heard Emmrich,” Davrin said as he reached to carefully brush his buckles across her cheek, cold against her feverish skin. “You've been stressed and tired, you've overworked yourself, and you've ignored it for too long, so your body's decided to stop you itself.”

“If Emmrich says so…” Rook sighed. “But you all have been working just as hard and nobody is fainting, just me…” She was rather ashamed.

“Rook, you don't see yourself, you're always working yourself to the bone, you never stop, and you've gone through so much already.” 

Rook wanted to tell him that she did the same as everyone else, but she was so tired, it was hard to form words. 

“And me? Grey warden stamina, you know it, you've tried it yourself,” Davrin joked and Rook snorted, groaning and closing her eyes tight when it made her head hurt more. Davrin's fingers smoothed across her frown and stroked her forehead, comforting. “Now rest.”

“Alright, alright,” Rook gave up, she didn't think she could get up even if she wanted to. “Just this night, I'll get back to work in the morning." 

“We'll see…”

The next thing she knew, Rook was falling asleep.

She woke up a few hours later. She didn't feel so unwell, as if just resting a couple of hours had done her good like Emmrich and Davrin had suggested, but she still felt weak and feverish.

Davrin was with her, sat down on the bed, Assan’s head on his lap. One of his hands held one of Rook's, the other holding the notebook where he took notes for his monster manual, which he was now reading by the candlelight.

He smiled softly at her when he saw her waking up. “Hey, feeling better?”

“A bit, yes.” Rook nodded her head and regretted it when it hurt.

“Good.” Davrin leaned to kiss her forehead and then reached for a flask on the nightstand table. “Bellara made you some tea that’ll help lower your fever.”

“Will it make me understand Assan?” Rook joked weakly. 

“Let's hope no, you have to be resting, not gossiping,” Davrin joked back. He helped her sit up and drink the tea.

“This isn't as bad as I imagined,” Rook said between sips. “It's almost sweet.”

“The dalish use it for sick kids sometimes,” Davrin told her. “I remember my mom giving it to me once, when I was little.”

Rook wished she were feeling less weak, so she could ask Davrin about it. She was always eager to learn more about him, about his family and his childhood, but she knew Davrin was still conflicted about his clan and leaving them for the grey wardens, so she was usually reluctant to ask and push him about it, she'd rather let him speak and tell her things when he felt like it.

Once she finished the tea, Davrin gently encouraged her to lie down again, tucking her in. “Come on, try to sleep some more.”

She was going to say that she didn't need to, that she was fine, but she fell asleep before the words could make it past her lips. 

She woke up in the middle of the night, with the room illuminated by the fireplace. Davrin'd dozed off next to her on the bed, looking as handsome as always. Rook reached to stroke the side of his face, softly and carefully, she didn't want to wake him. Her stomach, though, decided to choose that moment to grumble loudly.

It was enough to make Davrin open his eyes, as if his brain had been on the lookout for any sign she might need something. 

He gave her a lazy smile. “You look better.”

“I feel good.” Weak, but not feverish and lightheaded. Her stomach grumbled again. She hadn't had lunch or dinner, but she'd been feeling too unwell to feel hungry until now. 

“You're hungry,” Davrin said as she sat up. “Wait a minute, I'll bring you something.”

Before Rook could say he didn't have to, that she'd go herself, he was already gone, Assan rushing behind him as if hoping for treats from the kitchen. 

Davrin came back carrying a tray with a big bottle of water and a bowl, covered so the soup in it wouldn't get cold, but the delicious smell reached Rook anyway, eliciting a demanding, almost painful grumble of her belly.

She sat up against the headboard while Davrin left the tray on the nightstand table and uncovered the bowl.

“Did you make it?” Rook asked as she looked at the rich, yummy-looking soup, reaching for the bowl.

“I'm tempted to say yes to see if you look at me the same way you're looking at that soup,” Davrin joked. “But no, Lucanis left it ready for you, he said it’d help you feel better.”

“It's so good,” Rook said between spoonfuls of soup. “I don't know if he's a better assassin or cook.”

Davrin chucked at that. “He made some dinner for me too, it was good. I guess he's not too bad, for a crow at least,” he joked. 

Once she was done with the soup, he made her drink some water and more tea, helped her to get to the bathroom on weak legs, and then took her back to the bed. 

He tucked her in again and this time, he got under the covers with her. “Come here,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around her, and Rook let out a content sigh as she nestled on his chest. 

“You're good at this,” she said softly, half asleep, while her fingers traced lazy patterns over his exposed chest. “At taking care of people. Assan, me, anyone who needs it.”

Davrin was silent for a moment, enough for her to almost fall asleep. “I never thought I'd. I'm a grey warden, I was happy to protect people, but I was always a fighter. I didn't see myself much as a caregiver.”

“Well, you're good at it,” Rook mumbled sleepily. “Very good…Assan and I swear by it.”

Davrin chuckled quietly, holding her tighter and stroking her arm. “You know…I think I rather like it,” he said quietly and Rook murmured something or tried to, but the words didn't make sense. Davrin smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Come on, get some more sleep.”

Before he'd even finished the sentence, Rook had already fallen asleep in his embrace. 

*

N/A

Thanks for reading this little thing, if you liked this, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Hopefully, I'll be posting little fics each day of Davrin's week.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[dstryvampres]

Lab Assistant

MINORS/AGELESS BLOG DNI !

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings: smut LOL, dub con, pnv, unprotected sex, use of fear toxin on some dude, he smacks your ass like once

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: this is my first time writing just pure smut, sorry if the set up is super long.

For the past week your heater had been broken, and despite multiple calls to your landlord which always ended up with the promise that he would come over to fix it eventually, you were still freezing. Though you could escape the biting cold throughout the day by taking up a second home at your university, you always had to eventually come back to your shitty studio apartment and suffer through the night. You’re excess time spent on campus was well spent, studying in the library, napping under stairwells or in-between shelves in the library, stirring around coffee you didn’t even like but knew you have to drink to stay in the cafe, or staring longingly at your psychology professor Dr. Crane. The lack of any privacy throughout your day had started to get annoying after the first three days, not helped by the fact that because you saw Dr Crane more than you usually do, leading to you feeling more high strung. Gotham was not treating you kindly.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out quite loudly above you, forcing you out of your final exam induced coma. You gritted your teeth, knowing that you were likely overstaying your visit to the campus library, especially since you had just finished your last exam of the season, who knows how many hours ago.

Looking up you were met with the face of your favourite professor, Dr Crane. Another horrible coincidence, it was embarrassing for someone so put together and professional to find you so vulnerable, especially someone who you had in mind when your hand was shoved down your pants most nights. 

“The library is closing soon, I would recommend getting your stuff and heading out,” Dr Crane says, his voice oddly empathetic. A jarring contrast to the usual mix of hostility and boredom his voice held during lectures. He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching his eyebrows together, seeming conflicted over what he wants to say next, so instead you fill the space with your own voice.

“Of course, I’m so sorry sir. I seemed to lose track of time, and was too exhausted to walk home. Again, I am so sorry. I should have set a timer or just maybe not sleep in the library, that was so-“

“You have been spending a weird amount of time on campus for the past week,” Dr Crane interjects, giving you a once over. “Is everything okay at home?”

The question was so genuine it made your brain short circuit. Why would he even care about you?

“Not really,” you laughed, the two words coming out of your mouth before you had time to think. A habit only recently picked up due to sleepless nights.

A smile crept over your professor's face, one that didn’t seem to reach the rest of his face. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shock of your honesty or something more sinister. He sat down in front of you, scratching his nose, letting a silence stretch out. Just long enough for pricks of discomfort to stir.

“Well, I’m running a program here at the university over the winter break. Just need an assistant to help me over at Arkham for an experiment I’m conducting. The job would include housing closer to Arkham, since it’s a little out of the city, and it pays about a dollar over the minimum wage. If you’re interested,” he slides a business card over the table, smile now dropped, “just email me in the next 48 hours.”

Taking the card eagerly between your fingers, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ under your breath before pocketing it. When you look up he’s already halfway gone. Packing up your things as fast as you can, you leave the library and hop on the train back to your shitty apartment. An email is sent to Dr Crane that night, and the following day you are confirmed as his assistant for this experiment the next day.

𝜗𝜚

The space provided for your three week stay was slightly better than your studio apartment, mostly because it had heating, but also because you shared a wall with Dr Crane. Besides the housing, the internship also came with an average pay, some work experience, and enough credits to compensate for one class. Your first week there had mostly been mundane tasks, taking notes outside of interrogation rooms while Dr Crane interviewed patients, making coffee for the two of you, making patient profiles, and making sure no one took any of Dr Crane’s “special medicine” for the experiment. Despite the easy work and the decent benefits, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister that Dr Crane wasn’t telling you about the experiment. With a thesis based around the concept of fears, you had yet to notice any great dive into the topic beside a few one-off questions.

“Before we start this week,” Dr Crane starts, sitting down in the chair opposite to you, “I want to just warn you that this is when the experiment starts to become a little more intense.”

He holds a coffee mug in his hand, as he talks the liquid sloshes around the cup. It's all information you already know, you signed an NDA, he trusts you, do what he says, and that he needs you to stay out of the room no matter what. Last week you learned just how Dr Crane enjoys his coffee, no milk and one sugar, you can’t understand how he can drink it. One sugar can’t mask the bitter taste. He drinks it quickly though, remembering the taste makes you gag.

“Before we begin today, can you prepare the variable today in syringes? I will be introducing it into the experimental group today.”

He sets down the now empty mug, a loud thump echoes through the room, startling you. Dr Crane smiles at your reaction, it’s the same one he always gives you, the one that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. You ignore the stone that has formed inside your stomach, picking up your clipboard and pen.

“I’ll meet you in room 283B,” your professor puts a hand on the small of your back, leading you both out of his office. A shock is sent through your body at the contact, once out of the room you turn to look at him, but his hand is gone and he’s headed in the opposite direction as you.

Something else that you have noticed throughout this week is just how close Dr Crane is now. He’s more touchy than you would pinpoint him as. Which isn’t saying much, but the small lingering touches he lays on you, a hand on your shoulder, maybe on the small of your back, doesn’t seem to be too professional. One… two… three millilitres of solution per syringe. The questions he asks also seem to be a little weird, especially due to the matter of the study. A common thread being his prying into your fears, and a look of hunger when he asks the questions. Soft thud of the storage container hitting the ‘chemical waste’ bin. Though you can’t really complain, this past week has given you enough content for your late nights to satisfy you for your whole university career, Masters program included. Laying out each of the syringes in a row on the tray, and counting them out. Three syringes on the top tray, six needles on the lower tray. Rolling the tray out of the room and over to the elevator to head up to the second floor.

You softly knock on the door, waiting for Dr Crane to open up the door to the observer section. The door opens in a matter of seconds, only a crack for a couple more seconds, before it is completely opened. 

“Thank you,” Dr Crane says, looking down at the tray of syringes. He takes one in his gloved hand, holds it up to the light and nods, a stamp of approval given to your handiwork. “Remember: that if anything goes wrong, do not enter the room, just call security, and take as detailed notes as possible on the patient’s behaviour and the levels on the monitor.”

You nod, taking a look at the monitor set up beside the one-way glass, all vitals seem to be steady at the moment. The door to the room holding the patient opens up and shuts quickly, Dr Crane slipping in and greeting the patient, thanking him for his time. The patient seems to be a middle aged man, scars run across his arms, roughed up from whatever he did before his time in Arkham, he’s bald and seems to be displeased with his situation. Still, when Dr Crane comes to insert the syringe into his arm he stays still and takes it. The opaque liquid disappears as Dr Crane pushes down on the syringe, removing it once all the liquid has entered into the man’s system. A ‘thank you’ is expressed by Dr Crane before he exits the room, syringe in hand. Once the door is locked, Crane disposes of the syringe in the toxic waste bin in the observer’s room.

“The solution will take about five minutes to kick in,” he says, looking at you and it’s now that you realise just how excited he seems to be. 

The heart rate on the monitor starts to speed up, taking your attention away from Crane, and noting it down.

“Are you sure you estimated the time correctly?” You ask hesitantly, not wanting to offend your professor.

“I did. No worries. Injections can do this to people.”

The next five minutes pass by slowly, Dr Crane behind your chair, his breath tickling your ear. It’s almost impossible to focus like this, you just want to do something about the growing wet spot in your pants. Screaming immediately breaks through the tension you were feeling, you look at the patient. His eyes are wide, his pupils expanded, and his heart rate reaches around 140 bpm. Alarm sets into your own heart, you didn’t expect this big of a reaction from the patient. Dr Crane nudges your shoulder, reminding you to start writing your observations.

11:06: patient’s heart rate reaches 140 bpm

11:07: patient starts uncontrollably screaming at seemingly nothing

Your continued scribbling of notes doesn’t seem to discourage Dr Crane from talking.

“I didn’t know it would be this effective. I’ve been waiting years for this to be approved and this is better than I could’ve ever expected.”

Nausea settled from the mix of pleading for mercy and screaming from the patient, and Dr Crane’s glee from his reactions. Unsure how you could continue on with doing this almost every single day for the two weeks. Writing soon became sloppy due to your own lightheadedness and nausea, every moment you begged someone to make this stop. It was too much. It stretched on for over fifteen minutes before the patient finally came back from whatever drug induced hallucination he was forced into, yet he was still crying. Wanting to distance yourself so far from this experiment, you place the clipboard down.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” Dr Crane asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Whatever response you thought you could muster was stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded. “I call it my ‘fear toxin.’”

Once his hand left your shoulder, you immediately stood up, head spinning so much that you stumbled right into Dr Crane.

“Are you okay? Did the ‘fear toxin’ effects startle you?” He asks, putting his hands on your shoulder to stabilise you, his voice bridges between mocking and actually concerned.

“I just need to go to the bathroom,” You squeeze out, stumbling into the hallway and waving goodbye.

Stumbling around, unable to find the bathroom, you slide down the wall of an empty hallway. Sitting on the floor and curling up into the fetal position. Nausea slipping out of you slowly, eyes closed, just wanting to forget about the whole experience. What substance could even make a man react so horribly? Why would anyone make that in the first place? What purpose could a substance like that even serve? How will this even help-

“There you are,” a voice comes from above you, Dr Crane. You open one eye up, becoming flustered at your unprofessionalism, and enraged at the sight of your cruel professor.

He kneels to your height, offering you his soulless smile. “I’m sorry if that startled you, but I thought you would be better than them. I thought you could fully see my vision, look past the gruesome bits and understand what I’m trying to do here.”

His words both enrage you even further and make you feel even more embarrassed. He created a horrible substance, tested out on a man that, from what you know, didn’t deserve it, and essentially tortured him. On the other hand, this is a man who you have dreamed about and only want to please. For the past three years, you have sat in his class and dreamed about only him. For him to think that only you could understand his plans and dreams, is a flattery you could only dream of.

“Maybe I just didn’t prepare you well enough for this. Can I make it up to you?” Dr Crane asks, offering his hand to you. It takes a couple seconds, but you take it and he leads you upwards. 

His hand is oddly cold, his grip on your own hand is firm, but not harsh. His skin is smooth. It’s embarrassing that he has to lead you out of this room, has to coax you to continue.

“Let’s go to my office, hm?” Quirking an eyebrow, but not waiting for a response he led you down the hallway.

Everything seemed to blur together for you, the trip to the elevator, down the elevator, and into his office. He clicks the door shut, locking it, then turns to you. Stepping forward until he’s cornered you onto his desk.

“You think I don’t hear you at night. Calling my name. The walls in that place are very thin,” Dr Crane whispers into your ear, his hand slithering up your thigh.

A gasp escapes your lips, both at the hand now dangerously close to the warmth growing in your pants, and also because you didn’t think he would be able to hear your late night pleasure sessions. Soon he’s cupping your sex and you moan into his ear softly, earning a hum from him. Finger wander up from your sex to cup your chin, he brings you into a kiss. It’s bruising and hungry, he’s biting at your lower lip and you swear you can taste your own blood. His fingers make quick work unbuttoning your pants, sliding them down your legs until they drop to pool around your ankle.

“You're so wet already, how interesting,” He teases, tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Moaning in response you chase after his lips, but he pulls away. 

Your underwear is pushed over to the side, and his middle and ring finger breach your entrance. A loud ‘oh’ comes from your mouth, crane presses his lips to yours again to silence you. His fingers move slowly in and out of you, he catches each moan you let out with his mouth. His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, his fingers speed up. They stretch you out so nicely it stings a little bit. It’s been so long since someone else has pleasured you, at all.

His fingers pulled out of your sex slowly, deliberately. A painstaking motion that left you close to pleasureless as he pulled out of your kiss. Quickly flipping you around and pressing you into his desk, the shock between his warm body behind you and the cold desk pressed against your front sent you spiralling. There was shuffling behind you, before you felt him lineup his cock with your cunt.

“Beg for it.” 

Your mouth opens and you spew out a string of ‘please’s and ‘need it’ that seem to satisfy him enough for him to push inside of you. He’s girthier than you expected, but not as long as you expected, which is fine for you. The stretch makes you ache and he won’t be bruising your cervix. Without giving you a moment to adjust he starts to move in and out of you.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He says, before picking up his speed.

He sets up a consistent speed, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you grip the edge of the desk so intensely that your knuckles are turning white. The desk creaks as he moves in and out of your cunt, his breathing speeds up, one hand twists into your hair pulling your head back and you can’t tell if it’s to ground himself or as a reminder for you not to be too loud. Another hand comes to smack your ass, it's a swift hit, but it makes your knees buckle. 

“You're so much better than I thought you would be,” Dr Crane strains out between grunts.

He presses his front to your back, the hand in your hair softening its grip but not leaving. His breath tickles the back of your ear, the grunting coming from him makes you bite your lip to suppress your moans so hard there will be an indent left there tomorrow.

“Dr Crane, can I cum? Please, I’ve been so good, please let me cum,” you babble, the side of your face pressed into his desk making your words slur a little bit.

“Cum for me,” he says, moving the hand not tangled in your hair to your clit. Pressing small circles into your clit, he starts to speed up. 

Soon the pressure in your stomach releases and it goes black for a couple seconds. You feel Dr Crane’s hand press into your mouth to silence you as your legs buckle. Once you’re conscious again, he has already pulled out of you and you can hear him zip up his pants. You stand on your shaking legs and follow suit, trying to press your hair down into a more professional shape.

“I would recommend you get cleaned up,” Dr Crane says, giving you a smile, “Was that enough motivation to continue aiding me in my experiment?” “Uh- Yes,” you answer, not fully aware of what you were even saying, too embarrassed and lightheaded to even compute anything he was saying besides ‘getting cleaned up.’

“Perfect. After you get cleaned up, please meet me in room 256B. We can meet again here tomorrow during our lunch break if you continue to need the motivation provided,” He pats you on the shoulder, and leaves you in the room alone.

[actuallysaiyan]

jiraiya with smutty prompt 12, you know me, bacon 😈

warnings: smut, angst, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, alcohol

Jiraiya was so much fun. He loved to surprise you. He would just show up in the village and invite you to dinner. Most people tried to tell you to keep your distance, but damn you were so fucking attracted to him.

Despite the pervy nature, he was funny. He made you feel so alive. He made you laugh and your heart sing. He was a fun drunk and usually kept the flirting to a minimum with you, much to your dismay. It took the Hokage to finally talk some sense into you.

“He doesn’t like you like that,” she says one day as you two walk through the village. “Not to burst your bubble, but I don’t know if that man can actually have romantic feelings.”

The way Tsunade said it so casually, it just broke your heart. But still, you continued to hang out with Jiraiya whenever he was in town. You even spent time helping him train Naruto, which was really a blast. Still, the words of Tsunade rang through your mind every time Jiraiya brushed up against you by accident. Every time he said your name just a little too sweetly.

It all came crashing down one night when you’re a little too buzzed. You keep leaning closer to him, your own confidence being fueled by the booze. Jiraiya notices and he feels like he doesn’t want this. He wants you, yes, but not if you’re just trying to get his attention by being a silly drunk.

He walks you home that night, making sure you get to bed safely. And then, nothing…he just leaves. He leaves you with a sweet kiss on the forehead and a promise to buy you breakfast the next day.

Yet when you wake up, he’s gone. He left the village once more, leaving you with your confusing and conflicting feelings.

The next time you see him, he’s knocking on your door in the middle of the night. You awake to find him so disheveled. There’s the smell of Sake on his breath, but he doesn’t seem to be completely drunk. He smirks when he sees you.

“I made a mistake of leaving you last time,” he breathes as he pulls you close to him. His muscles ripple against your soft body. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Jiraiya brings you into the bedroom, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. You can’t help but kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. The way you two kissed was almost like a fire had been lit up between the two of you. It’s passionate and wild and hungry.

He stumbles back on your bed, smirking up at you as he begins to undress you. Then your hands work on undressing him, relishing in the way his toned body looks. You finally are getting your wish. You get to make love with Jiraiya. He pulls you in for a very sweet kiss, brushing hair out of your face.

“Thought you were way too good for me, kiddo.” He says with a sad smile. “But I realized I couldn’t live without you.”

The words hit you right in the heart. You kiss him back sweetly, reassuring him with sweet words. Then he begins to prep you for his large girth, replacing his fingers with his cock when you feel ready for it and you vocally confirm it. As you sink down on his cock, you think to yourself that you’re going to become very addicted to this.

“Go on, ride me.” Jiraiya says with a pervy smirk on his face. “Mmmmm, you should use me like your life depends on it!”

dividers: @adornedwithlight

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then Fall prt.7

𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔨 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫. 𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫

Description: Y/N finds it difficult to stay away from Aeron after receiving his love letters. Aeron prepares to negotiate peace with Benjicot Blackwood in an attempt to end the conflict between their Houses and win his fair lady back to him.

Part 6

Warnings and writer's note: Female reader, swearing, angst with fluff, nauseatingly sweet love letters (Aeron is as per usual just trying his best). References events in The Blackwood Knight by Elizabeth :) References to Persuasion by Jane Austen and The Cruel Prince series by Holly Black.

Y/N had become a ghostly presence haunting her fathers halls. Her grief at Aeron's betrayal and the loss of her love consuming her whole. Each day a raven would arrive for her with another letter from Aeron, and she would read it and read it again until the parchment was crumpled, his words barely legible through the stains of her tears, perched in a window sill overlooking the vast expanse of Bracken lands. Her anger had diminished with each day they spent apart until only a pressing feeling of utter despair remained. Each letter Aeron sent stoked the dying embers of Y/N's belief in his love for her until a spark lit the fire anew. Surely he would not be so persistent and penitent had he never loved her, if he did not love her now?

She found herself daily imagining she would see Aeron walking the path to her father's home from her perch, demanding to see her. Would she be happy or angered by his presumption, she did not know. Her dissapointment that he did not come seemed to confirm the former, and yet she could not fault him for respecting her wishes to keep his distance. And even as she felt herself believing his words, forgiving him and so desiring to grant him her love again, she knew she could not when his marriage to Rosyln Tully was was essential to strengthening his House.

So, in her confusion over her own feelings she spent her days reading Aeron's letters, envisioning his brows drawing together in concentration and wishing to smooth the frown which arose as he considered what words would please her. She felt her heart fill with affection at the thought. She found herself letting out a half-hearted laugh as she pondered that Aeron must have asked Samwell for advice and he would surely have suggested all sorts of crude vulgarities in jest, which Aeron would immediately have rejected in abject horror. His words were too sweet, too soft, too full of adoration to be but his own.

My Darling Lady,

I do not know how to express my adoration for you in words that can be contained within the small form of a letter. I have acted selfishly and injured your heart when it is the dearest and greatest gift. I have so much of you in mine own that the thought of any harm befalling you terrifies me, and yet it is I who have harmed you by my infraction. With this raven fancy that I beg your forgiveness on my knees and write myself as your vassal. Your Knight does humbly ask you to rescind your order to part from your side. 

I urge you to come be angry at a nearer distance,

Your Good knight

His letters had began as fitful explanations of his conduct, of his intentions, each one more pleading than the last.

My Sweet Girl,

I entreat you to believe that there is nothing that I want in all the world but your precious love. For me your every action sets my world alight and recreates it from the flames anew. Your smile ever the brightest, your laugh ever the dearest sound, your kiss ever the sweetest. The world is made colourless by your absence and I am filled once again with admiration for your light, my world so much the darker without it. Even if you do not love me, I could not help being entirely devoted to you. Like a heathen it is your star I worship, not that of the seven.

Most fervently,

Your Good Knight

My Dearest heart,

I am reduced to a being that loves you and can hardly bear to entertain any other thought. I love you when I attend my duties, though I have not the heart for them without yours, I love you when I walk the paths we once trod together. I love you when I notice the golden leaves of our tree turn a deep red with the passage of your absence, and when my mind deigns to grant me rest it is of you and you alone I dream.

Ever Yours,

Your Good Knight

Hearing footsteps and turning to see a messenger approaching, she held the crumpled pieces of parchment to her heart and briefly shut hers eyes tightly to ward off her unspilled tears. "Another raven has come for you from Bracken Hall"

Y/N hastily took the rolled up parchment, ripping it open the moment the messenger turned the corner down the hall. Her eyes scanned the contents frantically and her heart leapt into her throat. His plan to treat with the heir of Raventree was rash, feckless, and sure to place him in danger that sent terror down her spine. And should he fail in his bold scheme she could be no more truly his than she was now. How could she selfishly give her heart to Aeron again when the political ramifications may be dire for his House and the Riverlands without the support of House Tully?

"Still hoping a lightening bolt will strike you down and kill you?"

Samwell waltzed into Aeron's Chambers without invitation, throwing the curtains open to allow some light to enter the room. Aeron lifted his head only slightly from where he'd placed it on his desk. He had yet to hear from Benjicot Blackwood and had heard nothing from his love for more than two torturous weeks.

"I confess I considered striking you down myself when I realised what you'd done you bloody fool. Piteous as you look now my dear fellow, it would be a mercy killing. But you owe it to both Y/N and yourself to fix this. What do you plan to do?" Samwell's tone suddenly turned serious as he pulled up a chair. Aeron sat upright and turned to face his friend.

"I have already done it, or at the very least set my plans in motion. I have sent a letter to Raventree Hall, asking the future Lord Blackwood to treat with me for peace."

Samwell's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "By the seven, I thought you'd turned to madness in your grief. Now I'm certain I was right. The Blackwood and Bracken enmity runs deep my friend."

"I'm aware Samwell. But I have reason to believe The Blackwood heir will be amenable, he is in love with my dear cousin. It would allow us both to marry the ones we love."

"Surely not Edmund?" Aeron shot Samwell a fierce glare at his attempt to jest at such a time and Samwell held his palms up placatingly.

"Right, you must make a success of it then. Does your lady know?"

"I sent a raven yesterday. She has not responded to any of my previous correspondence so I do not expect a reply now, but I still hold hope that if my words will not win her back to me they will help to heal the wounds I have wrought on her heart." Aeron closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, struggling to get his words out as he tried to maintain his composure. A sudden knock at his door sent a jolt through him and had his eyes snapping open to see his cousin Edmund standing sheepishly in the doorway.

Aeron's face contorted in rage. "What do you want?" He had avoided Edmund ever since the banquet, sure he would not be able to control his anger with him for placing more doubt in the mind of his lady all the while aware his anger was misplaced, it had been him who'd sown the seeds of his own destruction. Edmund closed the door behind him before coming to stand in the middle of the room, notably out of Aeron's reach.

"I wish to apologise for my actions in the banquet. In truth my intentions were to warn the lady to avoid her expectations being cruelly dashed should you marry the Tully girl. I see now that I was wrong and you loved her all along. I will help you if I can. I couldn't help but overhear you sent a letter to Raventree."

"Perhaps if you had not been standing silently outside my door" Aeron spoke through gritted teeth, not softened by Edmund's apology as yet.

"What I mean to say is that I have already spoken with Benjicot Blackwood of a potential peace pact when I caught him waiting for our cousin. He is equitable and will want to forge a way forward that will enable him to marry her. Let me join you at the border once you have his reply." Aeron's mouth parted slightly in shock at Edmund's uncharacteristic sincerity and his heart beat wildly in his chest as hope surged in him. If he could pull this off, they could bring peace to the Riverlands and surely Y/N would know that his love for her was true. He'd be changing the very fabric of his lands, the very foundations of his beliefs for her. "So be it, I will send for you when the time comes." Upon his dismissal, Edmund bowed his head respectfully and swiftly vacated Aeron's Chambers, leaving him with a renewed sense of determination.

A raven carried Benjicot Blackwood's acceptance to Aeron's proposed meeting later that day. They would meet at first light on the morrow.

Y/N had not wanted to leave the comfort of her home at all, nevermind go to Bracken Hall and risk bumping into Aeron. She could not trust herself not to just forgive him on the spot and fall into his arms. But her mother had insisted she get some fresh air and meet her father on his way home from council with Lord Bracken. Y/N knew that her mother was concerned about her wellbeing, moping about her fathers halls as she had been doing of late.

The whole journey to Bracken Hall, Y/N had been racked by trepidation and as she entered Aeron's ancestral seat she expected to run into him at every turn. When she reached the corridor which led to the council chamber she breathed a short lived sigh of relief before the object of all her hopes and fears rounded the corner, halting in his step at the sight of her.

With what looked like a concerted effort, Aeron stayed rooted to the spot and came no closer to her, though the slight upturn of his lips at seeing his lady after so long did not escape her. "My lady, can I enquire..."

"Don't, please don't smile or ask after me." She cut him off promptly.

"I do not wish to impose upon you my lady. But may I not at least enquire as to your wellbeing?" 

She did not know if it was the softness of his tone, as if approaching a startled deer, the gentle concern of his questioning, or the tenderness she could see in his eyes that prompted her tears, perhaps a mixture of all three. Tears flowed from her eyes unbidden and so she brought her hands to her face to cover them from Aeron, turning her back to him to ease her embarrassment slightly at falling apart in front of him. "Oh my love" she heard Aeron call to her, followed by brisk steps and the light touch of his hand on her elbow as he gently turned her to face him. He did not make a move to remove her hands from her face and for that she was most grateful.

Instead he placed one arm tentatively about her shoulders, pulling her into him, her head falling into the crook of his neck as he let his fall onto her shoulder. " I should not be leaning on you like this, not anymore" Y/N sniffled. Aeron held her tighter "You can ways lean on me. It matters not if you decide to cast me aside later. I will gladly comfort you if I can." He said nothing more, just holding her until her sniffles dissipated and her breathing had evened out. But he hastily grabbed onto both her elbows in alarm when he felt her weight slump more forcefully onto him as her legs began to give out. Quickly pulling her to sit on the bottom step of the nearby stairwell that led to his Lord Uncle's Council room, he knelt in front of her and looked into her face with concern, searching for any sign of injury.

Y/N was sure that it was just the lack of sleep and food catching up with her, and her emotional distress that had caused the wave of nausea and faintness to wash over her and send her swaying. "Have you been unwell my love?" By the tone of Aeron's voice she was sure she must look wretched, dark circles drawn under her eyes, which were red and raw from her tears. Breathing deeply and trying to calm the butterflies that erupted from his worry for her, Y/N willed herself to speak. "Could you bring me some wine, I think it would revive me."

Wordlessly Aeron rose back on his feet and dissapeared down the hall, quickly returning with a goblet of wine. Kneeling back down in front of her he handed her the goblet, their fingers brushing together as she took it from him. She blushed under his gaze as he wove one hand around her waist to help her sit up to drink and gently held her elbow in his other hand to help her bring the cup to her lips. After a few moments the wine took affect and Y/N felt much better, although embarrassment quickly washed over her at her actions and she could barely look at Aeron. Lowering his head to chase her eyes, he seemed to be assessing her condition. "I am alright Aeron, thank you for your help." His eyes positively lit up, a small smile spreading across his lips, she knew not why. At her look of confusion, Aeron's smile only grew. "You said my name" he practically sighed out and Y/N felt her cheeks blaze, at which a look of determination lit Aeron's eyes.

"Please do not tell me that I cannot win your trust back, that you will not love me again or allow me to love you, that such precious feelings are lost. Do anything but tell me there is no hope."

His voice was so earnest, his eyes so full of love for her that Y/N could not help but feel her heart concede to him, though her mind told her to remain cautious. Heart pounding, she looked down so he could not see for himself the warring emotions in her eyes. "There is hope." She whispered. She was moved by his efforts to prove his love to her through meeting with the Blackwood heir. She had barely spoken those words before Aeron had pulled her to him oncemore, her head falling onto his shoulder as he half laughed, half sobbed in gratitude and relief. Pulling away, he looked seriously into her eyes. "I will aspire to deserve this chance from you Y/N and I swear to you that I will prove my love to you."

Y/n returned home with her father that evening feeling as if a pressing weight had been lifted from her. She felt the deep wound she'd been dealt on the evening of the banquet tentatively beginning to heal, though she knew that they were not out of the woods yet.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @alexandracgg