#i know he could in the gardening. he seemed interested enough

[rosenecklaces]

"How can elain match his darkness?"

How would he match her whimpsy it's the real question here

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[melzula]

Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊

a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!

summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko

He was miserable.

The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.

But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.

You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.

You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.

A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.

“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.

“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”

“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.

“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”

“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.

“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”

Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.

“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.

“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”

Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.

“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”

He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.

He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.

Because you’re not going anywhere.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

[veilkeeper]

there's something interesting about emmrich's hangout being so... structured and composed. everyone else's hangout is under the guise of some sort of errand, yes, but they're very casual and free-form. whereas with emmrich, he's taking you on this tour of the memorial gardens in the necropolis. and it is a tour—when he shows you the undead tableaux, it feels like he's reading off a script with the way he describes it to rook, tour guide style. and later, when he opens up to rook, it is always him initiating with the distinct feeling of something being said on purpose, like he had prepared to discuss it.

the flirt at the end gives a romance-flavoured explanation: that he was specifically trying to impress rook, that this is an attempt to endear himself to them. and in a lot of ways, it does look like that: he takes rook to one of the most beautiful, peaceful places he knows, opens up to them about his past, and then he has tea set up at the end of it, like a good host. (he is also rather caught off guard when you flirt with him here, and it could be interpreted as him being embarrassed at being caught out, or trying to walk it back so he doesn't offend).

however.... i don't really think that was his intention? this is probably coloured by the fact that i feel like, comparatively, emmrich has had very few one on one interactions with rook to this point and he breezes by the only flirt before this, but i don't think he walked into the memorial gardens with any intention to charm or otherwise woo rook, here. i think his intention was to get them alone and get an honest read on how they felt about him. specifically, about his work as a necromancer.

if you've rotated different people through the party with him, and if you've paid attention to the conversations he's had with others in the lighthouse, it becomes abundantly clear basically immediately that everyone has opinions on necromancy, and they largely fall into the territory of distrusting, put off, or even outright disgusted by it. a lot of emmrich's early banter with several party members is him going about the pretty exhausting ordeal of defending his magic, the mourn watch, his fields of study, manfred's existence, etc. and because of the lack of one on one time with rook, i'd be surprised if he felt like he'd really had an opportunity to get a read on what his new colleague actually thinks about it all.

so i think he is trying to impress rook, just... not like that. i think he's trying to prove that the necropolis is beautiful, that it's laden in history and rituals that mean something. that the mourn watch is good (the sort of order that would take in an orphan, and give him purpose and structure), and that even necromancers can fear death. i think he's trying to prove that he's a person, under all the misconceptions about his work that seem to go around the lighthouse when he isn't looking.

and i think that's why he looks so taken aback and genuinely surprised when rook flirts with him at the end—because it really wasn't his intention, but he recovers fast enough to pivot with grace. i don't think he's uninterested, i just think he wasn't sure rook could be.

[novaursa]

To Save Us Both

- Summary: Aegon was your shadow ever since you were a child. And once you come of age and Viserys gives your hand to Lord Tyrell's son, Aegon makes a decision that would save you both—and ruin you all the same.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You had always been the quiet one, the shadow lingering just outside the gilded glow of your family’s attention. As the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, you lived in the space between your mother’s careful plans and your father’s indulgent dismissiveness. Helaena had her dreams and riddles, and Aegon—your elder brother—had his bravado and recklessness. And then there was you.

From the earliest days, Aegon sought your attention with a peculiar intensity. At first, it was innocent enough. He would seek you out during lessons, deliberately sit beside you at the long table in the Red Keep’s library, or tug on your sleeve when you were absorbed in your Valyrian texts.

“Y/N, look at this!” he exclaimed one day, barely past eight, holding a wooden dragon he had carved—or at least claimed to have carved. It was crude, the wings uneven, but you smiled at him regardless.

“It’s… unique,” you replied, your voice soft, careful not to wound his pride.

“Unique?” His face fell slightly before he puffed up with exaggerated bravado. “I think it’s better than that. It looks like Vhagar, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a little smaller than Vhagar,” you teased gently, a rare flicker of mirth dancing in your eyes. Aegon’s pout faded into a grin, and he sat beside you, his body leaning just a little too close.

It was always like this with Aegon. He thrived on your smiles, craved your laughter, and seemed to falter when you turned away from him. When Helaena pulled you into her world of strange, whispered riddles or Aemond showed off his knowledge of dragons to impress you, Aegon’s mood would darken.

One afternoon, the court gathered in the gardens for a brief reprieve from the heat of the Red Keep. You had found a shaded spot beneath a weeping willow, a book of High Valyrian poetry resting in your lap. Aemond stood beside you, his expression serious as he recited lines from memory, his voice low and earnest.

“Se perzys ipradagon ziry ry,” he said, his pale gaze fixed on you. “The flame consumes it all.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your lips curving in approval. “You’ve improved,” you said, your voice warm, and Aemond’s face lit up with quiet pride.

From across the garden, Aegon watched, his jaw tightening. He drained his goblet of wine in one swift motion and made his way toward you, his steps purposeful.

“What’s this?” Aegon interrupted, his tone light but sharp around the edges. He flopped down beside you, ignoring Aemond entirely. “High Valyrian poetry? How dull.”

“It’s not dull,” you said, looking up at him with a small frown. “Aemond has been practicing.”

“Oh, Aemond’s been practicing,” Aegon mocked, his voice dripping with exaggerated awe. “How impressive.” He reached over and plucked the book from your lap, flipping through it carelessly. “You should do something more fun, Y/N. We could go riding or—”

“She doesn’t have time for your games,” Aemond said coldly, stepping closer.

“And you don’t have time for your lessons, apparently,” Aegon snapped back, his smile sharp. “Run along, little brother.”

“Aegon,” you said, a note of warning in your voice. He turned to you, the sharpness in his expression softening instantly.

“What? I’m just saying we could have more fun.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’d rather spend time with me, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows knit together, and you glanced between your brothers, torn. “Aemond and I were having a conversation.”

“But I’m more interesting,” Aegon pressed, his grin widening as he tilted his head, his violet eyes searching yours.

You sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Only for you, dear sister,” he replied, the words carrying a weight you didn’t fully grasp.

As you grew older, Aegon’s attempts to claim your attention became bolder. When suitors began to glance your way at feasts, he was quick to position himself between you and them, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, his voice louder, his laugh more boisterous.

One evening, a young lord from the Reach had spent far too long at your side, his compliments earning your shy smiles. Aegon, seated nearby, clenched his goblet so tightly that the metal bent under his grip.

When the lord finally excused himself, Aegon slid into his place, his eyes narrowing as he looked after the retreating figure. “Do you actually enjoy listening to that drivel?” he asked, his tone laced with disdain.

“He was kind,” you said simply, glancing at him.

“Kind? He was duller than a broken sword,” Aegon retorted, his gaze fixed on you. “You deserve better.”

“And who would that be?” you asked, your voice carrying a note of challenge.

His smirk faltered for a moment, his expression turning uncharacteristically earnest. “Someone who knows you. Someone who’s been by your side all along.”

Your breath caught, his words lingering in the space between you. But before you could respond, he laughed, the moment breaking as quickly as it had come. “But not him,” he added, his usual arrogance slipping back into place. “You’re mine, little sister.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or scold him, but the possessiveness in his tone left an unspoken promise lingering in the air. Aegon would always vie for your attention, no matter who tried to steal it away.

The announcement had been made during a routine gathering of the family, with King Viserys seated at the head of the table, Alicent by his side. His words were spoken with the offhandedness of someone making a trivial decision, though the weight of them crashed into Aegon like a hammer.

“It’s time we secure another alliance,” Viserys had said, his gaze landing on you. “Lord Tyrell has expressed interest in a match between his eldest son and our daughter.”

You sat frozen in your seat, your wineglass trembling slightly in your hand. Across the table, Aegon’s face darkened. His lips parted as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, he stared at Viserys, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.

The conversation moved on, Viserys discussing trade agreements and naval concerns, but Aegon heard none of it. His mind was a whirl of chaos, his heart pounding so fiercely it drowned out the voices around him.

Later that evening, he stormed into Alicent’s chambers, his face pale and his violet eyes wild. She was seated by the hearth, embroidering a handkerchief with practiced precision. When she saw him, her calm expression shifted to one of concern.

“Aegon?” she asked, setting the embroidery aside. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to speak with you,” he said, his voice strained. He paced the room, running a hand through his hair, the usual air of arrogance stripped away. “It’s about Y/N.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her motherly instincts kicking in. “What about her?”

“They can’t marry her off,” he blurted, turning to face her. “Not to the Tyrell boy. Not to anyone.”

“Aegon,” she said softly, rising from her chair. “It’s a good match. Lord Tyrell is powerful, and his son—”

“I don’t care about his son!” Aegon interrupted, his voice rising. “I don’t care about alliances or power or any of it. She belongs here, with us. With me.”

Alicent froze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her eldest son. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t let this happen.” He took a step closer, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Mother, you have to stop it. You’re the only one he listens to.”

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm to steady him. “Aegon, you’re being irrational. Y/N’s future—”

“My future doesn’t exist without her!” he cried, his voice desperate. “Don’t you see? She’s the only thing in this world that matters to me.”

Alicent’s lips parted, her expression shifting from concern to something more conflicted. “Aegon…” she began, but he cut her off.

“She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice softer now, trembling with vulnerability. “When she laughs, it’s like the sun breaks through the clouds. When she looks at me, I feel like I’m someone worth being. And the thought of her—of her with someone else—” His voice broke entirely, and he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Alicent watched him for a long moment, her mind racing. Finally, she spoke, her tone measured. “You care for her deeply.”

Aegon let out a bitter laugh. “Care for her? Mother, I love her. I’ve always loved her. And if they take her from me, if they marry her off to that Tyrell boy or anyone else…” He turned back to her, his face etched with anguish. “I’ll die. Do you hear me? I’ll die.”

The rawness of his words struck Alicent to her core. She had always known Aegon’s feelings for you went beyond brotherly affection, though she had hoped it was a passing infatuation. But the desperation in his voice, the tears brimming in his eyes—it was undeniable. This wasn’t a childish crush. This was a man willing to set the world aflame for the one he loved.

“You must speak to Father,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Convince him. Tell him it’s not the right match, that she’s too young, that the Tyrells aren’t trustworthy—anything. Just stop it.”

Alicent hesitated, torn between her role as a mother and her duty as queen. Finally, she nodded, her voice firm. “I will speak with him. But, Aegon…” She stepped closer, placing a hand on his cheek. “You must tread carefully. This path you’re walking—it’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side.”

Alicent sighed, pulling him into a brief embrace. “Then let us hope the gods are merciful.”

As Aegon left her chambers, a flicker of determination replaced the despair in his eyes. If his mother couldn’t stop the betrothal, he would find another way. He would fight, scheme, beg—whatever it took. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

The candles burned low in Aegon’s chambers as he paced the floor. The wine on his table sat untouched, an unusual sight for him. Tonight, Aegon’s mind was too sharp, too focused, to indulge in his usual vices. The Tyrell betrothal still loomed like a sword over his head, and every moment that passed without a resolution tightened the noose around his heart.

He had spoken to Alicent, begged her to intervene, but her assurances felt fragile against Viserys’s iron will. His father had grown increasingly indifferent to the pleas of his children, too consumed by his own decaying health and dream of uniting the realm. If Alicent couldn’t sway him, Aegon knew he needed to act. He needed to ensure that there was no choice but to keep you by his side.

The idea had taken root in his mind slowly, twisting and growing until it consumed him entirely. It wasn’t honorable, nor was it kind, but Aegon was neither of those things. He was desperate. And desperation made monsters of men.

That night, as the Red Keep grew silent and the court retired to their chambers, Aegon found you in the library. You were alone, the firelight illuminating your soft features as you poured over a book. It was a scene he had seen a hundred times, but tonight it struck him differently. Tonight, he couldn’t afford to wait, to hope that things would somehow fall in his favor.

“Still reading?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

You glanced up, startled but not displeased to see him. “I could say the same to you. It’s unusual to find you here without a cup of wine in hand.”

He smirked, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose even I have my moments of sobriety.”

You smiled faintly and returned your attention to the page, but Aegon didn’t move. He stepped closer, his boots soft against the stone floor, and you glanced up again, your brows knitting in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re hovering,” you said plainly, though there was no malice in your tone.

Aegon chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. He sat beside you, closer than usual, his knee brushing yours. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the table. “About the Tyrell boy.”

You stiffened slightly, your gaze dropping back to the book. “Father has made his decision. There’s little point in discussing it.”

“Do you want to marry him?” Aegon pressed, his voice low and urgent.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, your tone soft but resigned. “My duty is to the family, to the realm.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, leaning closer. “Do you want him, Y/N? Do you want to leave the Red Keep, leave me, and go to Highgarden?”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—confusion, perhaps. “Why does it matter to you?”

Aegon swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Because I can’t lose you. You’re mine.”

“Aegon—”

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. “You don’t belong with him. You belong here, with your family, with me.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened. “Aegon, you’re not making any sense.”

“I love you,” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I can’t let them take you from me.”

Your lips parted, shock evident on your face. “You’re my brother.”

“And that makes it wrong?” he challenged, his voice trembling. “Our blood of the dragon is the same, our bond stronger than any lord or knight could ever offer you. Don’t you see? We were meant to be together.”

You stared at him, your mind racing, but before you could respond, Aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he were testing the boundaries of what you would allow. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

You pushed him back abruptly, your eyes wide with a mix of confusion and anger. “Aegon, this is madness.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice raw. “And I’ll prove it to you. If they try to marry you off, I’ll stop them. I’ll make sure you stay here, with me.”

“How?” you demanded, your voice rising. “What are you planning?”

He hesitated, the weight of his scheme hanging heavily between you. “If Father won’t listen, then I’ll give him no choice. If you’re mine, truly mine, he can’t send you away.”

The implication of his words hit you like a blow, and you took a step back, your chest heaving. “You mean to ruin me,” you whispered, horrified.

“To save you,” he countered, his expression desperate. “To save us.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “Aegon, this isn’t the way.”

“It’s the only way,” he said, reaching for you again. “Don’t you see? I’d burn the whole world to keep you.”

You turned away, your heart pounding, and fled the library, leaving Aegon alone in the flickering firelight. He stood there for a long moment, his hands clenched into fists, his mind racing.

If you wouldn’t accept his love willingly, then he would ensure there was no other path for you to take.

Whatever it cost, whatever it took, you would be his.

[darnell-la]

just imagine logan as a lone wolf who lives in a cabin in the middle of the forest and maybe the reader is just an ordinary girl (maybe shes a farmer or a gardener) that lives behind the forest and she needs to cross the path along the forest every day to go home, it goes down to rain and she gets lost, and finds logans cabin.

Then she looks at logan for the first time and its just love at first sight.

Well maybe lust, but also love.

note: Logan lives far from civilization in this story, so you can imagine when a young lady, the only person he sees daily, accidentally steps too far into his property wet and dirty. He can’t help but invite her in and pray for the best.

———

Y/n had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, eyes constantly getting rain in them as her shoes soaked. She could barely feel her feet, and her clothes were drenched.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, coming across Mister Howlett’s house, a man she’d never seen but had heard of. One part of her was happy seeing the house, knowing she had gone the right way, but the other half still hurt her head. She has ten or so minutes of running and no walking.

Y/n walked in front of the house, about to pass until an alarm went off, almost scaring her out of her shoes.

Lights flashed on the young lady as she heard rustling coming from inside the house. “Goddamnit,” she cussed under her breath, realizing she had stepped too far into the man’s property. She never does, but it’s raining hard tonight, and she can barely see.

“Who the fuck is on my property!?” A man asked, voice sounding a bit different than an average male. “I-I’m sorry, I-I always walk this way, I just walked a bit too far into the grass. I-It’s raining heavy out here,” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the rain.

Logan walked past the frame of his front door, revealing the shotgun he had in hand. At first, she was terrified, but her mind instantly forgot about the weapon in his hands as her eyes scanned the rest of his body.

“I see,” the man said, scanning the young lady. He wore thick blue jeans, with a beat-up heavy belt, and his tank top was white and dirty. Y/n on the other hand had an amazing outfit. A fluffy skirt with an uptight crop top.

Of course, all of it was drenched, but the man had seen how good she looked earlier today, like every day. He never gets a good look at her, but the consistency of her going to work or whatever she did every day, seemed to rub Logan the right way.

“C’mon in — Let the weather cool down a bit,” Logan suggested, tone still unfriendly, but she understood she could’ve woken him up. “Oh, uh- Thank you,” she said as she approached his doorstep.

Once the two met eyes, it was almost like everything from then was in slow motion. The way they blinked, how slow they stepped, when he talked, telling her to take her shoes off for him to dry, and when he locked his front door.

“So — What do you do exactly?” Y/n asked as she shifted on his couch to look at him who was at the end of the same couch she was sitting on. He never sits on the long couch, but tonight, he felt like it.

“Chop wood, give to the community, fix up the land, and cook,” he said before taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured and offered her, but she told him she wasn’t a drinker.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” she said, making him chuckle. “Maybe for you, princess,” the man said with a look over his reading glasses before he looked back down at the newspaper he was reading.

“I work hard — Just in other ways,” she smiled. “And what is it you do, Bub?” The man asked, now placing the newspaper down to listen. He was interested. He didn’t know why, but he was.

“I write online books and sell clothes. These! I made myself. Hope I can dry them without it messing up,” she said as she tugged on her clothes. “You made that?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Mhm hm — Took a while, but I got through,” she smiled. “Maybe I can dry it. I mean, I don’t think the rain’s gonna slow down anytime soon, so you can just stay here until they air dry in my basement,” he offered.

“You can take my bed. It’s clean, and my room has a lock if it makes you uncomfortable that a man’s in the house,”

Y/n stayed silent, thinking to herself. It didn’t seem like too much of a bad idea. She didn’t know the man, but he was a neighbor. She passes his house all the time, and she’s sure he’s seen her before.

“I’ll stay,” she said, making Logan huff out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in. “Let’s head upstairs. It’s late, and I was going to close up down here anyway,”

Logan had shown y/n to his room, telling her she could make herself at home as he pulled out a shirt she could wear to bed.

“When you wake up, I’ll have your clothes in front of the door, alright?” He asked. “Okay, uh- I know I’m asking for a lot now, but is it possible to take a shower?” She asked.

Logan looked at her body, almost forgetting she wasn’t clean. Her legs had mud in them, her skin was wet, and her hair had branches in leaves in them. He had ignored all of that before. He hadn’t cared what she looked like. She looked pretty no matter what.

“Of course,” the man said before he went into his closet to grab a towel. “You can use my bedroom bathroom. It’s clean too,” he said, making sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this all. I’ll repay you someday,” she looked up at him as he gave her a towel. “You don’t have to. I would never leave a pretty girl in the dark,” y/n giggled at his response, happy she knew he thought she was pretty.

“Hey, Bub, I almost forgot to give you some soap. Those in there are a bit strong smellin, so I’ve got some normal scents for ya,”

Logan knocked on the door bathroom door a few minutes after the had started the shower. “Oh my, thank you!” Y/n said as she hopped out of the tub and slightly opened the door, covering anything that could be seen.

“Of course, princ-“ the man had cut himself off as he looked behind her, seeing her figure in the mirror. “What's wrong?” Y/n asked as she followed his eyes, looking behind him before she let out a scream.

“Oh my god!” The main tried covering herself up as the door slowly opened. Logan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, covering as much as she could as she looked up at him. “It ain’t like Ian seen a naked woman before, Bub,” Logan said. Y/n let out a sigh, knowing a man who looked like him had definitely seen enough naked women to not feel disgusted or anything by her.

“Okay, okay,” she caught her breath, still covering herself up as Logan stood in the door frame, scanning her body. Her wet skin which wasn’t completely clean yet, made him feel a type of way. She made him feel a type of way, but he wanted to be respectful.

“I’ll leave you to it, princess,” Logan said before he went to turn around, but y/n stopped him. “Wait!” She said. “I-I need the soap,” she spoke low, making him realize he never exchanged it with her.

“Oh, shit- Yeah, yeah,” Logan said as he handed the bottle to the young lady. Y/n grabbed it, pulling at it so she could take a shower and ignore how embarrassed he was, but he kept a grip on the bottle.

He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to see what she would do.

“Is something wrong, Mister Howlett?” She asked. He loved the way his name rolled off of her lips. He never thought he’d love his last name more. What was this random girl doing to him?

“Yeah, it’s just- I don’t know,” he said, making her smile slightly. “I-If you wanna join me, you can. You know, to save water?” She suggested, surprising the man. She even surprised herself.

“You sure, Bub?” The man wanted to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming all night. “Yes-“ Before she could finish, the man threw the soap bottle to the side, grabbed the woman by her face, and pulled her into a rough passionate kiss, making sure his tongue slipped right in.

Y/n instantly maimed in his mouth at the aggression. He gave back a groan as he picked her up and placed her on the wooden sink counter.

Logan ripped his white tank top off before pulling his jeans down, revealing the hard-on he had since he saw her outside in the rain.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, Bub. Don’t know why,” he said, making her giggle. “Maybe because I’m pretty?” She suggested, making him laugh. “That’s definitely one reason, Bub,”

Logan spat on his fingers before wiping the across her cunt which was already leaking. “Fuck,” y/n cussed under her breath as her body hitched.

“Mhm, potty mouth,” she said with a smile before he licked his fingers, tasting the mess he had just wiped across. “Fuck, you taste good,”

Logan put his cock in hand before lining up. When he pushed at her entrance, she instantly tightened around him. “Fuck,” Logan groaned, hands gripping the sides of her ass to pull her into him.

“Oh my god,” y/n cried out as his length buried inside of her completely. “Fuck, yes,” the man huffed out as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Ian gonna last,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, but she loved it.

“Good — Makes me know you like me back,” she said. The man chuckled against her skin, moving his face until his slips were on her neck. “You gonna take it all?” He asked, kissing along her neck with a few nibbles.

“Yes, Mister Howlett,” she said. “C’mon, Bub — Ian that old,” he chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly thrusting into the woman to take in his good or felt, the way she gripped him.

“I like them old,” she admitted. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re so wet right now? Because you’re working my cock so fuckin’ much,” the man said in her ear, making her whine.

“Yes — Yes, that's why,” she admitted again. “Well luckin’ me,” Logan snapped his hips, getting ready to spill deep into her.

“P-Please cum in me,” she begged as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he knew she really wanted it. She needed it.

“Wasn’t gonna do it any else were, Bub,”

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

[sold2vlaykz]

YOU

What kind of partners I think each slasher would have!

Michael Myers

Someone mature yet naive. Michael only kills people who pose as threats, or that could potentially get in his way.

I think he’d likely go for someone who’s mature enough to be a natural adult but naive enough to believe that they could change him.

Jason Voorhees

Christian nature lover, it just seems to be in his character. Especially with his background, a soft person who has a soft spot for natures creatures.

He’d love a sympathetic person, someone who’s emotionally mature enough to understand why he does what he does but has enough morals to know it’s wrong despite.

He’d love someone who he thinks would’ve saved him when he was drowning or at least tried to be his friend.

Gabriel may

An outcast, someone’s who’s likely been abused or neglected, in wards etc. Gabriel seems like the type of man to want someone he can relate too.

Someone who understands his shaky view of life, someone who has morals but doesn’t try to discourage what he does or try to get him to stop because they understand.

Jacob Goodnight

A christian woman, someone who dresses modest and reads books. Respectful and kind someone that his mother would’ve been at least decently fond of.

Bubba sawyer

A farmer or a gardener. Or just someone sweet in general. Someone who manages to befriend his family and doesn’t seem to pose a threat or want to harm him.

Someone who doesn’t look down on his deformity or cannibalistic family.

Art the clown

Someone completely deranged, mentally unstable and psychotic. Gothic, satanic or atheist. Someone who helps him in his crime, or kills.

The Babadook

A soft mother figure almost, an insect enthusiast.

Chucky

A psychopath or sociopath, he’d date crazy but not someone who’s totally batshit insane. Someone with attachment issues based on how he deals with people who want to leave him.

Vincent Sinclair

Artist, or an art enthusiast. Someone with a traumatic past or a slight psychical deformity. More of a trauma bonding relationship.

Bo Sinclair

City girl, someone who tends to wear revealing clothes with a snarky attitude. A fighter, or just a rough handed/strong woman.

Lester Sinclair

A hunter or a foodie. He’d likely just go line up at a food truck and fall in love with the person working there.

Freddy Krueger

A tough snarky woman, someone who has a short attitude and doesn’t know how to lucid dream. Someone shorter than him.

Patrick Bateman

Someone slightly innocent, an airhead. Someone with a sense of humor who interest defer from his.

Dominic

Someone feminine, someone who’s empathetic and helps others often. Likely someone who volunteers at shelters of just a genuine kind person who has made mistakes.

Hannibal

Someone highly intellectual. Understanding and knows kinesics (Body language.)

Billy Loomis

Someone who has the same aesthetic as him, a horror fanatic, a true crime fan.

Billy Lenz

Someone who’s very hyper sexual and can deal with his sex depravity.

Harry warden

Someone who’s self reserved, respects rules, doesn’t wear too much revealing clothing, introverted.

Norman bates

Someone bold or not shy to speak their mind, someone who’s outgoing and very friendly. Typically someone with a flirtatious demeanor.

Pyramid head

Someone with a lot of unresolved trauma, someone who’s introverted, self reserved, and delusional.

ROB ZOMBIE Michael Myers

Introvert, someone strong or takes on the same personality as his mother. Independent, and younger than him.

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … SLIM PICKINS ♡

track nine of the short n’sweet series. pairing: bountyhunter!rafe x reader. based loosely on the song slim pickins by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

maybe you were just understimulated and bored. maybe you kind of liked when he got jealous.

you sit at his side on a bench outside the motel room for a while when you bring it up. he’s stiff, got you pinned to his side with an arm around you like someone forced him to do it. you figured he was trying to bond, show affection — but still had that little fear you’d just up and run off. the two of you stare out over the desert and a horse whinnies in the distance.

“y’know i had a boyfriend ‘fore you stole me.” you tell him quietly. you try not to sound accusatory, voice quiet enough to do so but his nose twitches to turn up anyway.

“you…what?”

“on the barn. where i lived.” you begin, treading carefully and he turns to glance at you, curious. “he lived in the farmhouse the other side of the land. my age. we knew eachother since we were little, used to play on the tire swing in my garden. only recently he became my boyfriend.” you reminisce and rafes spine tingles and his neck feels a little hotter at the way there’s still a tinge of sadness to your voice after all this time of travelling with him. nothing was ever enough for you.

however, he’s got nothing else to do and he’s curious.

“yeah? what’s this boyfriend of yours like then?” he drawls, clearly unimpressed but you seem unshaken. rafe had talked to you in crueller ways before.

“brown hair… brown eyes. he was really generous, would do anything for my family. sometimes he played it a little safe i mean, he waited so long to even ask to kiss me but… he was sweet. i miss when men were sweet.”

“i can be sweet. i’m so damn good to you.” rafe blurts out, and you nearly laugh because of how irritated he sounds in contrast.

“you kidnapped me.”

“ugh— right, ‘cus— ‘cus it’s always my fault right? you know my dad made me— whatever.” he steams off into a lecture and you relax at his side, unbothered. it almost bothered him more that you didn’t react to his explosiveness anymore, especially at a moment like this. you were still thinking of him.

he sighs, petulantly and sits back in his seat too, rubbing beneath his nose, legs spread casually as he thinks. you figure that would be that, and you knew not to poke the bear. surprisingly, after a minute — rafe speaks again.

“if you could… if you could go back n’be on that barn where i took you from… would you… would you be there, with him?” he gets bashful and snappy, enunciating with a flat hand extended. rafe always talked with his hands and you found it interesting.

truly, you don’t know. to pose such a complex question after all the time you’d spent together made that line appear between your brows. he doesn’t have to look at you to feel you shrug.

several hours later and he’s got your face in a pillow, ass in the air. no matter what kind of day the two of you had, what kind of conversations bestowed upon you — if rafe needed to get his dick wet, that was exactly what would happen. he’s basically in your guts, and you’re sobbing so loud as your walls spasm around him that you’re sure the motel would receive noise complaints.

a coarse hand slides up your spine and grips the back of your neck as he pounds you before he slots around to the front to hold your throat off the bed, bicep bulging at the position. he talks, and it takes you a second to digest it. you’re not used to conversation out of dirty talk.

“did he ever make you feel good like this? that— that boyfriend of yours?” he grits his teeth. you shake your head, mouth too occupied with forming an ‘o’ shape as he hits a new spot and he lightly smacks your cheek. just hard enough to regain your attention. “yeah you better use those words—”

“no! no— he didn’t.” you pant like a puppy, a string of drool still attached to the pillow from your lip.

“uh huh. yeah i fuckin’ bet.” he chases you up the bed a little when you arch away, too sensitive and holds you down, continuing to rough house your sore pussy. “might’ve been good to you but he wouldn’t fuck you like this huh? wouldn’t make you cum this god damn hard.”

you respond something, but by this point it’s muffled — head dropped into the pillow suffocating all sound. gripping the hair at the back of your head, he yanks your head up and licks his lips, determined to hear you. “nah, speak.”

“too— mmph—”

“yeah?”

“too nice! he was too nice!” you wail, walls fluttering and he huffs out a smirked chuckle, jaw clenching as he uses you like a sex toy.

“mm. that’s uh, that’s real fucked up baby. just needed a big mean man to get you right, huh?”

rafe was fucked up, but he wasn’t often wrong.

[oweninadaydream]

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞) || 𝐀.𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary : Can anybody blame a young lady for indulging in her deepest desires despite suspecting that the end is imminent?

song inspo: Fortnight by Taylor Swift (ft. Post Malone)

pairing : Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

word count : 1564 words

contains : rake!Anthony, unrequited? love, mentions of alcohol and I think that's it!

a/n : I am not the owner of the gif or the dividers ( I don't possess such talents jakjhakjshda). This will have a second part (already working on it). The next chapter of the Feel the rush series will be posted after my exams, sorry :((( Anyway, enjoy !!!

The maid finished working on (Y/N)’s makeup and she turned to look at the final product in the mirror. Her  hair was perfectly held at the back of her neck with a chignon. Her grandmother’s diadem added that sophisticated touch the young woman craved. After taking in the breathtaking shade of her dress in the mirror, she started twirling and giggling around her chamber in a fairy manner. Someone could wonder, what on earth was going on inside the girl’s head? The answer was easy, yet so complicated. Lady (Y/L/N) was simply smitten with someone she knew very well, a lifelong friend that seemed interested in her as well. The problem? That man was no other than Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, the most infamous rake of the Ton. 

“Your carriage is ready, miss (Y/L/N)” the butler informed the young lady.

At almost the same time, another voice echoed around the house.

“(Y/N) dear, we must go now. Lady Danbury will not let me hear the end of it if we show up late yet again. I’d also like to chat a bit with Violet, I haven’t seen her since the Featherington ball.” her mother urged her from the hall.

“I’m ready, mother” she answered loud enough for the woman to hear.

On her way to the barouch that would transport them, she realized that the burgundy dahlias that had been planted at the beginning of the summer were finally blooming with the arrival of autumn, contributing to the embellishment of the front garden. She stared at them for a second; her mind was searching for something in them but she couldn’t explain what exactly. She shook her head and she got inside the carriage.

Pacing around the ethereal gardens of Aubrey Hall, her mind couldn’t help the quick escapades to the first time they kissed. Sitting under the blossoming tree, Anthony and her were watching the sunset taking with itself the traces of winter, welcoming the first of many spring nights. The two of them were abnormally quiet, as if the sight of the moon had bewitched them both. (Y/N)'s spine could still feel violent shivers traveling down her spine when recalling the way the Viscount had lightly brushed his nose against hers before capturing her lips into a slow deep kiss. His chapped and demanding mouth stole a couple more pecks before laughing airly, rising from their hidden spot and offering his hand to help her on her feet. 

That glorious evening marked the beginning of … Well, she couldn’t quite state what it was. The rest of the summer was filled with fleeting glances, embraces away from prying eyes and laughing, lots of laughing. (Y/N) had never been happier; after all, the Viscount was by her side every other night. Still, a series of dark thoughts anxiously floated around her head whenever he walked away to attend the gentlemen’s club, or whenever he tried to avoid her gaze after implying anything that had to do with love or compromise outside his mattress.  Shaking her head and changing the subject usually did the trick, but for the last few days, Anthony had been acting ever so strange. 

(Y/N) was absent in deep thoughts when she felt a familiar touch on her back. 

“Anthony” It was not a�� question, but the most confident of statements.

“How did you know it was me so surely?” he said while flashing her with one of his infamous smiles.

She raised her head so her eyes stared at him directly. “I could recognize you by smell, by the prints you leave when you step on the ground on a rainy day or simply by tracing your features with only one finger, eyes completely closed. You are no mystery to me” her answer was sweet and sincere, with a touch of flirting attitude.

He went quiet, very quiet. Every bit of the playful attitude  he had shown earlier had disappeared, now replaced by a hard expression. “You ignore plenty of things about me, so stop acting like my-”

“What has come over you? Your usually particular temperament has worsened these past two weeks. I do not appreciate that you talk to me in such a way” she abruptly interrupted in hopes of obtaining any kind of answer that would help her understand.

“I cannot bear with this any longer. I just feel like we have gone astray from the path we had established for us. I wish for us to be on the same page, and that implies remembering the casual nature of our… deal. Please tell me you understand” his pleading eyes accompanied the request perfectly.

“Forgive me, Anthony but I can’t wrap my head around what you are saying. I thought we were evolving, like our relationship. I know you are not the most kin on marrying or doing this as everyone else does, but after all we’ve been through, don’t you dare tell me that I have been delusionally imagining all these romantic gestures and moments”

“Mademoiselle Parisot is upstairs waiting for me. I would love to continue to discuss this in another time, unless there’s anything that must be told in this exact moment” Was his voice meant to sound confident? (Y/N) could almost feel some sorrow slipping through the cracks of his quick confession. 

The astounded expression on (Y/N)’s face showed that she did in fact not comprehend any of what Anthony was rambling about. A quick sight that denoted shock and upset preceded the lady’s monologue.

“I love you, Anthony, and it’s ruining my life. I can’t keep sighing like a damsel trapped in the highest tower, as I yearn for a future that my eyes will not behold. I can’t keep masquerading my true desires, in hopes that you will choose to stay. I will not continue to morph into whatever kind of woman you fantasize about at the moment, making all those efforts for a man who could never spare a glance at me in such a way, and losing myself in the process. I always thought my worst misery would originate in a forced, loveless marriage with some old earl at best , that would little by little drain every spark of joy within me. But oh, what fool I have been. This senseless affair we have going on has come to distress me more than the worst of husbands ever could. So, go on, run straight into her arms. I do not care, not one bit, my lord. You have shattered my heart a million times throughout the years, I cannot feel it tearing apart anymore.”

His stupidly handsome face showed an evident feeling of distraughtness ; she had never raised her voice like that, nor had she ever used similar words around (or against) him. He quickly shook  his head to wash away the initial shock, substituting it with his typical stoic mask.

“I have never intended to inflict any kind of pain upon yourself, my lady. But, as my dearest friend, you should have known what you were getting yourself into, (y/n).”

His casual condescending  tone made her sick to the stomach and the loudest of silences entered the scene. After a minute or two, a gentle breeze interrupted (y/n)’s pondering. She then raised her head up in a defying manner. After making sure her voice wouldn't give up on her (even though her lower lip was trembling), she decided to voice her thoughts. 

“That's the thing that bothers me so much about infatuation. It makes humans stupid, it makes them believe it can fix anything, even lost causes such as yourself, Viscount Bridgerton. I do not desire to disturb my lord any longer, so excuse me.” And just like that, she was heading back inside the ballroom.

The sound of her heels furiously hitting the floor with every step matched perfectly with the accelerated heartbeat of the man left stranded in the gardens. Without much thought he decided to return to the chambers where his seemingly perfect mistress awaited for him.

Not very far from the action, a slightly inebriated Benedict was laughing obnoxiously loud with Eloise and Colin. The sight of  (Y/N) crossing the doors so rapidly while trying to contain her sobs and tears made the three Bridgerton siblings turn their heads to follow their friend’s trajectory. 

���Should we-” Benedict was eager to console (Y/N) despite his clouded reasoning.

“I would say that she needs a moment to collect herself, Benedict. Our presence could do more harm to her already poor state.” Colin spoke.

“I will try to approach her later. I wonder what has happened… Wasn’t she talking with Anthony?” Eloise recalled perfectly how Anthony had started to converse with Miss (Y/N) earlier that night, right in front of the thriving gardenias. Everything seemed perfectly normal when she was passing by, but it was obvious that something had happened after she had gone back inside.

Eloise moved rapidly to peek around the corner, followed by the two males whose curiosity was unbearable as well. On the other side of the garden, an obviously tense Anthony was making his way to his chamber with a light emanating from the inside of the room.

Without a second thought, Benedict voiced what the three of them were thinking in that moment.

“I think that is exactly the problem, my dear sister…”

[lubdubology]

I've been meaning to make this for a while now. Below is a compilation of my favorite Logan stories I've read--ones that have given me all the feels, made me kick my feet, cry with joy, weep with angst and all together delight my very soul. These are not in any particular order. If your story is tagged and you don't want it to be, please let me know and I'll remove it.

give me the first taste // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: from the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved. (Part 2 of Guilty Pleasure)

guilty pleasure // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

crawl home to her // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known. (Part 2 of You Can Use My Skin to Bury Secrets In)

you can use my skin to bury secrets in // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

blessed are the forgetful // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

epiphany // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

never is a promise // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

give me all that ultraviolence // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: You give Logan head for the first time.

sugar, sugar // @eupheme Synopsis: Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

honey, honey // @eupheme Synopsis: Even after you wake up alone, and almost late for work, it doesn’t deter your interest in your neighbor - especially after the night you shared. (Or - a miscommunication, and the following through of two late-night promises.)

you've got me wanting you // @eupheme Synopsis: As the days pass, you think your time spent with Logan is pretty much perfect. Well... almost. (Or - a dash of insecurity, some badgood advice from Wade, a near-fight at a bar, and the confession of overdue feelings.)

from eden // @eupheme Synopsis: Every day you wish you could do more. More for Charles. More for him. But the harsh sun eats away at you. You weren’t built for this heat. You were meant for gardens. For Eden. But you think… as your fingers trail through the earth, your life force flowing down into the greenery below - if something can grow here, in the desert - then maybe, so can hope.

just the tip // @pedroscurls Synopsis: you're ready to take the next step with logan, but you're still a bit nervous.

smoke and ash // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

cardinal // @danidrabbles Synopsis: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

i could play the doctor (i can cure your disease) // @sceletaflores Synopsis: it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

runaway bride // @pedroscurls Synopsis: on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

nameless as a river undiscovered underground // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: his leather jacket remained a tie between your love and his. the weight of it, the smell of your intertwined scents, all revolved around a relationship he never thought would happen.

soft and serene (let me feel you on my lips) // @sceletaflores Synopsis: logan's not a virgin by any means, but he's still wearing white...

beggin' for seconds // @yxtkiwiyxt Synopsis: You visit Logan at work when one of his colleague's sons gets injured and then he goes back to the hospital with you.

mirror sex // @avocado-writing Synopsis: Mirror Sex (Old Man Logan x Reader)

snow day // @silverskyeline Synopsis: logan hates the snow, hates that it reminds him of the past. but he soon finds that being with you gives it a whole new meaning.

dust to dust // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

slippin' and slidin' all over you // @sceletaflores Synopsis: logan forgot to fix the ac...

new rules // @seventeenpins Synopsis: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away.

knuckle velvet // @ohcaptains Synopsis: he walks you home, then lets himself in.

the devil and i // @mystra-midnight Synopsis: logan might have looked like an ordinary man, but the weight of his metal-laced bones pressing against your back was intoxicating—deliciously so. and he knew this with the same certainty with which he knew the earth revolved around the sun.

[cherrydbear]

Since y'all seemed to like this I'll keep rambling on the subject, I can do this all day. Here are some of those examples where I think their friendship really shines through:

From Sanji's perspective, this guy just showed up outside his restaurant one day, dueled the legendary swordsman who slashed Don Krieg's fleet to pieces, willingly got cut almost in two, nearly bled to death, was tied up by his own crew and then captured by the Arlong pirates, still singlehandedly escaped and came back to join the fight and defeated one of Arlong's best fighters, then nearly bled to death again and woke up just in time to drink himself silly at the afterparty. I've heard people say they "match each other's freak" and that's the truth. Sanji watches this absolute wackadoodle of a man and knows he's found someone who matches his freak. From Zoro's point of view, some cook at a floating restaurant just fed all of their enemies out of principle before kicking their butts. How could he not respect that sort of unconditional adherence to a sense of honor and justice? Especially considering he himself experienced starvation not too long ago in Shells Town. Now this cook, the newest stray in Luffy's collection, immediately proves himself to be immensely capable both in the kitchen and on the battlefield, incurs injury to himself without complaint to protect these people he barely knows, and still is the only person to come sit by Zoro and check up on him. So Zoro knows that Sanji has a heart of pure gold, and I think that's a big part of why he gets frustrated when Sanji tries to cover it up with bravado and perviness.

This scene was really interesting to me because usually when someone demands that Zoro does something, he grouches and grumbles about it, so in this case it seems he just spontaneously started helping out himself. And if there was ever a man whose love language is acts of service, it's Roronoa Zoro. He seems to be more of a "companionable silence" kind of guy, while Sanji's a talker and will say anything to keep feeling connected. Now, I don't know if this is just a me thing, but I like to say my friends' names a lot, even just because the association with them brings me joy, but I rarely use the names of people I'm not close with except to refer to them in third person or to get their attention. In this scene, it seems to me that Sanji keeps repeating Zoro's name as a way to show he's thinking about him and appreciates him being there, though I might just be projecting.

Now, I know shippers go crazy over this one, but I think it's honestly really solid platonic evidence and I'll tell you why (not to dissuade shipping, I think you have to be friends before you can be more than friends so all of this can be fuel for the ship too if you want it to be). Firstly, they're comfortable enough to sleep this close together. Sanji's resting his sleepy head right on Zoro's shoulder (it should have been me, not him) and Zoro just lets him. Also note real quick, only a short distance away Luffy is using Usopp as a pillow, so they're all a cuddly cozy little family. When Zoro notices Sanji mistakenly trying to kiss him, he doesn't even move away, he just makes a face and waits for Sanji to wake up so he can make fun of him. Sanji, for his part, doesn't act embarrassed or disgusted that it turned out to be Zoro there, only playfully mad about his expression. They squabble for a few moments before Luffy pushes past them and they turn their attention to the next thing, argument forgotten, proving that neither was actually angry about anything and they were merely enjoying the opportunity to bicker.

This is from the hunting competition in Little Garden that I mentioned before. I just wanted to point out that both of them are grinning and clearly having a grand time.

(I love how Sanji's hands are just massive sometimes.) They have the entire forest clearing, and Sanji chooses to sit his little booty down right next to Zoro and toss his food at him. They're just like those kids in elementary who had beef over who has a more impressive Pokémon collection and would always sit next to each other at lunch to compare cards and play together at recess but claim they're archnemeses. And for as much as Sanji implied to Usopp (though oblivious) that the heart shaped vegetables were just for the ladies, he did choose to make it and serve it to the whole crew. Speaking of the ladies, Sanji is always adamant about protecting them, but he was perfectly fine with leaving Nami and Robin in Zoro's care, just as Zoro trusted Sanji to take care of Luffy and Usopp.

I also loved how Sanji packed Zoro a cute little lunchbox for exploring and he was NOT going to let no stupid south bird take it from him.

Alright that's all for today folks I gotta wake up in like 5 hours for work lol

Continuation from this post

[p0orbaby]

Far Too Gone for a Tuesday

summary: maybe you like jealous leah

warnings: jealousy obvs, some steamy stuff but nothing graphic

a/n: all thanks to this request !

word count: 1.4k

-

The evening air bubbles with the hum of laughter and conversation, lights casting a warm glow across the garden where you stand, half-listening to someone drone on about their latest holiday. You’re at one of those events, the kind you attend out of obligation more than desire.

A sprawling affair hosted by someone with too much money and too little sense. The atmosphere is as bloated and gaudy as the host's ego, with silk-draped tables groaning under the weight of excessive floral arrangements and waitstaff circulating with trays of canapés so pretentious you can hardly even pronounce the ingredients.

Leah’s somewhere nearby, you know that much. You spotted her a few minutes ago, deep in conversation with a couple of her teammates. Your eyes flick over to her now and then, a subconscious tether that keeps pulling you back.

The sight of her, standing tall and confident, is a small comfort in the swirl of pretension and forced smiles. She’s laughing at something, her head tilted back slightly, the elegant line of her throat catching the light. It’s a beautiful sight, and you wish you were over there with her instead of enduring the banal chatter of your current company.

“-and the water was just so blue, you wouldn’t believe it,” the man in front of you says, leaning in closer. Too close. You can smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath, mingling with a cologne that’s a bit too strong. His eyes are on you, intent, and there’s a smirk playing on his lips that makes your skin crawl.

He’s the type of man who thinks his wealth and status entitle him to anything, or anyone, he desires. His gaze is an inventory, cataloging parts of you as if you’re a commodity. Something he can pursue.

You laugh, a little too brightly, taking a half-step back. “Sounds amazing,” you say, hoping the conversation will fizzle out soon. But he doesn’t take the hint. His smirk widens, mistaking your politeness for interest.

“You know,” he says, lowering his voice, “I could take you there sometime. Show you the sights.” His hand hovers near your arm, fingers itching to close the gap, to claim territory he assumes is up for grabs. There’s a calculated sleaze in his tone, the kind that comes from too many years of getting what he wants.

You glance around, looking for an escape. And that’s when you see her. Leah’s eyes are on you, and there’s a hardness there that makes your breath catch. She’s seen the whole thing, and she’s not pleased. The muscles in her jaw are tight, and her posture has shifted, less casual now, coiled and ready.

Before you can react, she’s striding over, her movements purposeful and confident. The man is still talking, oblivious to the storm heading his way. Leah’s presence is practically a force field as she steps into the space between you and the man with a possessiveness that’s both protective and territorial.

“Hey,” Leah says, her voice cool but with an edge sharp enough to cut. She slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Her touch is possessive, grounding. “Everything alright here?” Her eyes never leave the man’s face, daring him to challenge her claim.

The man blinks, taken aback. He looks between the two of you, a frown forming. “Yeah, we were just talking.” His bravado falters in the face of Leah’s unyielding stare.

Leah’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Were you?” she asks, her tone leaving no room for doubt about what she thinks of that. “Because it looked like you were doing more than just talking.” Her fingers press into your side, a silent reassurance and a clear signal of ownership.

There’s a moment of tense silence, and you can almost feel the heat of Leah’s anger radiating off her. The man finally seems to get the message, raising his hands in embarrassed surrender. “No harm meant,” he mutters before slinking away, his earlier confidence thoroughly deflated.

Leah’s arm stays around you, her grip firm. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, her voice softening only for you. You nod, relieved, and let her lead you through the crowd. As you walk away, you feel the weight of her possessiveness, a comforting anchor in the midst of the evening’s shallow frivolities.

The drive home is quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. Leah’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, her jaw set. Her knuckles are white, gripping the wheel as if it’s the only thing keeping her from blowing her top. The dim glow of passing street lights illuminates her face in fleeting intervals, casting ridged shadows that highlight the building fire in her eyes.

You glance at her, a hefty combination of guilt and gratitude swirling in your chest. You didn’t ask for the attention, but you can’t deny that part of you is glad for Leah’s reaction. It’s a reminder of the intensity of her feelings for you, a silent declaration of how fiercely she cares.

Outside, the city slips by, a blur of lights and dark shapes. Inside the car, the silence is almost oppressive, filled with the things neither of you are saying. Leah’s jaw ticks, a muscle jumping in the tightness of her clenched teeth. Her eyes remain fixed on the road, but you can feel the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. You reach out, a tentative touch on her arm, and she softens, just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

As soon as you’re inside, the door barely clicks shut before Leah’s on you, her hands cupping your face, her lips crashing onto yours with a desperate hunger. It’s a kiss that’s both an apology and a reminder, an outlet for the emotions she’s been holding back. You kiss back, matching her pace, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, needing to feel her against you.

“Mine,” she mutters against your lips, and it’s not a question. It’s a declaration, a statement of fact that brooks no argument. You nod, breathless, feeling the possessiveness in the way she touches you, the way she consumes you. Her kisses trail down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, marking you in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s primal, instinctual, a need to brand you as hers.

She pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes, her own dark with desire and something more primal. “You’re mine,” she repeats, her voice a low growl. You nod again, unable to form words, lost in the heat of her gaze. There’s a fierceness there, a raw intensity that both thrills and terrifies you.

The night becomes a blur of sensations, Leah’s hands and lips everywhere, a constant reminder of her claim on you. She’s relentless, her jealousy fueling a passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more. Every touch, every kiss is a promise, a reaffirmation of what you mean to her. Her hands are possessive, her touch demanding, and you respond in kind, giving yourself over to her completely.

She presses you against the wall, then a door, then the mattress. Her hands sliding under your shirt, fingertips skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, needing more, needing her. Her lips find yours again, and it’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate strife over authority that she wins effortlessly.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat, your breathing heavy. Leah’s arms are around you, holding you close, as if she’s afraid to let go. You nestle into her, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your cheek. It’s a soothing rhythm, a reminder that she’s here, that she’s yours.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, her voice rough with emotion. “I just… I couldn’t stand seeing him all over you like that.” There’s vulnerability in her words, a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

You lift your head to meet her eyes, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “Don’t be sorry,” you say softly. “I’m yours, Leah. Only yours.” You mean it, every word, and you hope she can see the truth in your eyes.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Good,” she says, pulling you even closer. “Because I’m never letting you go.” There’s a promise in her words, a vow that you know she’ll keep.

And you believe her.

[worldume]

“wait! didn’t you hear..? ume-chan’s in a really bad mood..!”

“haah..?” sakura’s lip curled in an ugly expression— you know, that one he usually makes when he’s annoyed or not pleased by something? suo told him that if he makes it enough, it’ll get stuck and he won’t have to worry about making such expressions anymore. “why. but what does it even matter?”

“it’s just a bit odd to see, right..?” nirei whispered, leaning over with a look of curiosity on his face as he reaches for the little carton of white milk at the table. “i wonder what’s going on..”

“umemiya is typically so outgoing that it’s almost kind of sickening.” suo’s voice is as soothing as ever, offering a closed eyed smile as if he didn’t say something that could be considered mildly insulting— sugishita was asleep a couple desks behind luckily enough. “i’m sure whatever it is might be pretty serious.”

“oh! ume-chan and (name) are fighting.” kiryu chimes in, his white earbud now in hand. “you didn’t see in the group chat? it’s all the talk this morning~ ♪”

“really? figures we didn’t see! sakura overslept this morning and we had to shake him awake.” nirei said in a matter of fact kind of tone— suo nodded with a smile.

“don’t blame me!” sakura barks, looking away with the nastiest little pout on his face. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

“trouble in paradise, hm? ume seems experienced enough to handle a bump or two.. but maybe he did something to really make (name) mad? i can’t imagine what though, they’re both like rays of sunshine.”

“sakura..? why are you blushing?”

“shut the hell up!”

hiragi knew something was off that morning when umemiya walked onto the rooftop later than he usually does. he’s usually there earlier before anyone else. and today his radiant smile nowhere to be found and instead of his typical exuberant, over-the-top greetings, he offered a half-hearted nod before quickly taking a seat at one of the benches under the awning. weird, hiragi thought. very weird, and even more so that he hadn’t checked on his garden before doing anything else. hiragi notices the little things about his friend like how ume’s eyes seemed dim, as if weighed down by a burden— unusually into his phone. ume looked up and asked him for a favor.

when lunchtime came it was tsubakino who knew something was off when umemiya barely touched his lunch. he was normally the life of the party— ushering others to get their fill all while stuff his own face with mini sausages and spoonfuls of omurice. but umemiya’s silence was deafening at the table and it was painfully obvious that others were trying to overcompensate for the silence that’s usually filled in. umemiya’s absentmindedly pushing food around his plate, he’ll take a bite here and there— but again, he’s oddly engrossed in his phone. the rest of the members exchanged worried glances, this wasn’t like ume-chan at all.

poor sugishita. he’s stressed out— no, on the verge of having a complete meltdown by the time bofurin meets for an afternoon assembly. ume-chan has barely even said a hundred words today and he knows because he’s counted! sugi noticed how reserved ume seemed when he asked sugishita to take care of his gardening that day. he would have done that anyway, but the occasion just seemed.. strange. but ume never liked to assume anyone would anyone favors without being asked. hiragi’s making all the announcements at the assembly today, sugi noticed— and ume stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest with a hardened but distant look on his face.

that evening sakura really got a taste of it for himself when he went looking for ume and couldn’t find at his usual spots. irritation is what sakura felt. not because he couldn’t find him, but because sakura was actually.. feeling.. some sort of.. interest or excitement about talking with ume! his brow twitched in agitation, fists balled up with a furious blush on his nose bridge and cheeks when he asked around. no one’s seen ume but sakura ends up stumbling upon him when entering a quiet little cafe he likes to go to at the end of town.

“ah. i said today, didn’t i.” ume knows, but it just completely slipped his mind. he told sakura he wantedto speak to him today. “i’m sorry, sakura. i’ve been thinking about a lot.”

“..whatever, don’t apologize..” sakura looked away, brows furrowed into a frown as he tried his best to hide the pink tint on his cheeks— a few seconds go by and he gets a glance in. oh yeah, this guy’s really fucked up about something. come to think out it, he looks like he didn’t sleep last night.

“what would you do if someone you loved didn’t want to speak to you?” the question is so sudden and catches the sweet boy beside him completely off guard.

“haaaaaah?!”

“i forgot you’re shy about these things.” a halfhearted chuckle escaped ume’s lips. “(name) and i.. we had a.. disagreement last night— she’s upset with me to say the least.”

“i don’t know much about.. girls or whatever but i do know when girls say they’re ‘fine’ or they ‘don’t want to talk to you’— means the opposite.” sakura mumbles— he’s talking but he’s busying himself with anything to try to avoid ume’s eyes, so he’s taken a sudden interest in the sugar holder. “she probably just wants to spend more time with you.. someone who cares a lot about someone else wouldn’t just say don’t talk to them unless they’re tryin’ to run ‘nd hide from the issue.”

so, that’s exactly what ume did when he found himself at your door step an hour later with all your favorite things: flowers, sweets, and a some hot takeout. when you opened the door you were greeted with his warm smile— an apologetic expression on his pretty features.

and when he asked to come in, you said yes.

© all content belongs to worldume 2024. do not, translate, modify or repost to any other platforms.

[satowooo]

ii. down bad

Satoru was so sure that he finally got over you, but why does he feel his heart beating again whenever he sees you walking down the room as if you own the place, the way you own his heart? Reminiscing the past feels like voluntarily falling down the edge of a high mountain, except Gojo Satoru was more than willing to welcome the pain that he thought was long gone and buried in the depths of the sea.

contents. angst, fluff, maid!reader x gojo satoru, difference in social class, past events, flashbacks, modern au, not proofread.

‘Cause fuck it I was in love, so fuck you if I can't have us.

previous chapter → next chapter

JANUARY 2009

It was probably love at first sight for Gojo Satoru. Or maybe just a small interest. Maybe he just wanted to be friends with you. Or maybe you really just caught his attention.

It was probably because it's the first time for Satoru to see a maid the same age as him, which makes it more intriguing because he usually has old ones who are at least 10 years older, most of them who raised him since he was just a child. And then there's you walking in with your chin up, eyes set in front, your moves calculated, and you're not sparing him a glance every time he walks by, your head always lowered in a polite bow.

It felt like you were a robot. A cold demeanour of a woman who seems to be dolled up and built to be a servant who will obediently obey any orders from its master. To Gojo Satoru, you were an emotionless, uninteresting, boring woman.

So why is he so drawn to you?

There's something about you that makes you feel different. Sure, he has met other girls too. They were all lively and admired him like he's the prettiest person in the whole world. Quirky and cheerful girls unlike you who were… nothing.

He wants to know what's this force pulling him to come to you. And he needs to be at a near distance, he needs to get to know you, to talk to you, just so he could answer these questions in his head.

It's been exactly two weeks since the first time he saw you back in the garden, and he still hasn't talked to you even once. He's been watching from afar, call him a stalker or a creep, but those are none of his intentions. You caught his eye, that's for sure.

It was one of those leisurely days wherein Satoru was just taking a walk around the estate, breathing in the fresh air of his palace-like home. Everyone who walked by bowed down to greet their master, whispering amongst themselves and putting up their best behaviours.

“The tea is ready, Young Master.” A maid approached him, eyes down on the floor. “Do you want us to set it up on the tables at the pavilion?”

Satoru raised his hand as if to wave them off, motioning the maid to raise her head. “No need for that. Take it to my chambers. I'll follow shortly.”

The maid nodded before she took her leave, until Satoru was left alone in the gardens once again. His eyes roamed around for a presence, hoping to see the familiar silhouette of a lady that he longed to see. Days of observing you, he had noticed well enough that you spent a lot of your time here, where all the flowers bloomed in the softest colours that pleased the eyes. And he wanted to see you here, perhaps make a small talk if he was lucky enough for you to grace him with your presence.

But to no avail. Satoru let out a sigh after a few minutes of waiting around, his head darting from left to right one last time to see if you're coming or not, and you still didn't. His chest heaves as he tucks his hands in his pockets, walking back to his chambers to have his tea.

The silence around the estate had always been deafening, hearing only footsteps from the servants or the clinks of cups. Every step he took made quite a sound that reached the walls, his aura alone could startle even the small ants that roamed around the corner of his house as he dragged the door open, revealing his neatly cleaned bedroom.

He sat cross legged on the soft mattress on the floor before his tea table, grabbing a book as he waited for the maids to bring his afternoon snacks.

And oh is it his lucky day?

“Young Master…”

A voice so soft and unfamiliar came by the door, knocking three times. Despite how Satoru didn't know the owner of the voice behind his door, his heartbeat suddenly started to rise from his chest.

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “Come in.”

He felt like he caught his breath when the doors opened, revealing the woman he had been looking for quite some time now. Your hair up in a ponytail, your kimono hanging on your body as your small hands carry the tray of tea cups and a kettle. Right before him stands the most beautiful woman he had seen his whole life.

He gulped, sweat forming in his forehead. For a second, he didn't know what to do or say.

Satoru felt stupid. Crazy. Bewildered. And astonished. And enthralled. By you. For you.

He didn't realise his mouth was gape open for a few seconds, a faint shade of pink flushed on his cheek. He gulped once more before he finally had the courage to talk.

“Come in. Place them on the table” He patted the empty table, waiting for you to take the tea to him. You kept your head lowered, not looking him in the eye again.

You swiftly placed the tray on his table, kneeling down on the opposite side in front of him. You took the kettle, pouring down the tea skillfully on his cup. You almost felt yourself spill the tea when you heard his voice that seemed to echo around the room.

“I heard, you're new here?”

Obviously, you are. He knew it for quite some time now. But what else does he have to say? He wants a conversation and that's what he's doing to get your attention. Even though it made him sound like he's stupid.

“Yes, Young Master.” Your answer was short and precise, leaving no room to keep the conversation afloat. But it's Gojo Satoru talking, you can't expect him to shut up with just one question.

“As from what I know, you're here to take your mother's place while she's receiving medical treatments as of the moment. How is she?” He takes a sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches your every movement.

“She's recovering well.”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head. Your short answers made him dumbfounded for quite a reason, unable to think of another question that might keep you talking.

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head to the side as he said, “Lift your head.”

You gulped, hands falling down on your thighs as you slowly looked up. Oceanic blue eyes beneath his snowy lashes met with yours as if a light was shining directly at your face for how blinding his gaze felt like. Your breath hitched for a moment. His beauty was nothing like a normal man you see on televisions. Neither artists nor models.

He was breathtaking. Gojo Satoru was the epitome of beauty. A piece of art that never fades even as centuries pass.

“What's your name, Miss?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. “As your master, I should know at least the names of who I associate myself with inside our home, no?”

You blinked a few times before you uttered your name out of your mouth, feeling out of breath all of a sudden. Despite how calm his gaze looked into you, you felt like he was trying to freeze you with his eyes alone. “Y/N…”

His lips curled into a delightful smile. There was a satisfaction laced in his eyes as he nodded his head, his fingers circling on the edge of his teacup. “A beautiful name, Miss Y/N. You probably know me already, but I'm Satoru Gojo. Pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled politely, your eyes looking anywhere but his. While Satoru Gojo basked himself in your beauty, looking directly into your appearance as if you'd be gone any moment now if he tears his eyes away from you. It took Satoru quite awhile before he finally came back to his senses to finally let you take your leave.

“Now, I'm sure you have other things to do. You may go now.” Satoru raised his cup like he was doing a toast before he took another sip. “I'll let you know if I need anything.”

He somehow made a good first impression, he thought. You didn't talk much yet your presence alone filled the silence as he stared at you for quite some time and Satoru is just glad he didn't embarrass himself.

It was more than enough. At least for now. He'll make sure to take all the chances he gets to talk to you and climb the walls you've built around yourself. He doesn't mind.

FEBRUARY 2009

“It's nice to see you again.”

You jolted in shock when a presence suddenly came beside you while you were picking some flowers. A low manly voice of a man that you're now familiar with ever since you worked here.

You stayed calm, facing him so you could properly greet him as you bowed your head. “Young Master, is there anything you need?”

“Your presence, if I may.”

Now, Satoru Gojo was definitely playing with fire. His words shooting out of his mouth before he could think about how it could affect this so-called relationship you two had that hasn't even started yet. But then, he still felt cool about it. Biting his lip as he shrugs smugly as you look at him confused.

“My presence?”

“Indeed. I hope you don't mind if I… stay around with you while you do your tasks.” He looks down at the basket you're holding filled with different types of flowers, smiling to himself at the thought of you might make a bouquet of it. “But of course, if you don't want me to, I will leave.”

“No, Sir. How can I refuse?” You laughed nervously, waving your hands to say no. “Stay if you must. I don't mind at all.”

Satoru chuckled and nodded his head. “Well then…”

He looked down the basket, his gaze locked on the extra scissors. Without further ado, he took them by his hands, proceeding to help you pick the same flowers that you were collecting.

“Do you have any flowers that you like here?” He asks, his eyes focused on the plant that he was cutting.

Your eyes quickly caught what he was trying to do, your mouth flying open as he cut the stem of a flower. “Young Master, please let me do the work. You're not supposed to–”

“Relax, Miss.” He turned to you with a chuckle, pushing his hand in the air in front of you where he was holding the flower that he picked. “I want to help. And don't worry, you won't get into trouble for this.”

You hesitated at first, but seeing him pushing his hands forward where he offered you the flower made you relent. You sigh in defeat, nodding your head as you take the flower from him, putting it down the basket. “Then I shall oblige.”

“So are you going to answer my question?” He asked as he continued his work.

“Question?”

“Flowers. Any flowers in here that you had taken a liking to?”

You purse your lips together, looking over at the other side of the garden, where different colours of tulips are starting to bloom. “That one.”

“The tulips?”

“Mhmm…”

Satoru smiled to himself, taking a mental note to give you one some of these days. “Nice choice. They're beautiful, aren't they?”

“They are. My brother loves them.” You blurted, starting to open up into the conversation with him.

“You have a brother?” Satoru asked in curiosity as he plucked another flower, then tossed it down the basket. “How old is he?”

“Yes, I have an eight-year-old brother.” Your heart warms at the thought of your sibling, a person who's probably waiting for you to come home during the weekend.

He glances at you, noticing the warm smile that crossed your lips, feeling something tugging at his chest at this sight of you. Relaxed and comfortable in his presence, it made him confident that you were somehow warming up a bit with him.

“You should take him here some time.”

Your eyes widened at his invitation, quickly looking over at him only to find that he was already staring at you, his eyes showing that he was serious. You take a sharp breath, feeling his gaze burning into you as he waits for your answer.

“I cannot… I'm here to work–”

“I insist.” Satoru cutted her off, before he went back to plucking some more flowers. “I enjoy company once in a while. He can have as many tulips as he wants. I promise you won't get into trouble for it, I'm the master in here after all, aren't I?”

Did he easily sway you like that? You hoped he didn't.

“Right…” You looked down, your fingers fidgeting. “I'll let him know.”

There was a moment of silence. Only the sounds of the scissors trimming and leaves falling down the ground could be heard. You focused on your work as Satoru helps you, and minutes passed until the basket was already overflowing because your mind was too preoccupied with your conversation with him.

You sighed, bidding him farewell as the work was done. You left as soon as he dismissed you, your heart racing the same way as your steps quickly travelled back to your room.

Your chest was heaving, and you don't know if you're breathing this heavy because of the way you hurriedly ran to your abode or was it because of the way he made you feel. Nonetheless, you don't want to know the answer just yet.

MARCH 2009

That wasn't the last time that you saw Gojo Satoru. After that interaction, you seem to cross paths with him more frequently than before. And everytime it happens, he always engages in conversations with you. His advances didn't bother you so much, in fact, it made you comfortable enough ever since you started working as a maid and he made you feel less lonely. Gradually, you became casual with him, yet still remaining professional.

Satoru liked it. The company. Your presence. The casualty. And the friendship that's starting to bloom between the two of you. It wasn't easy at first, but he got the hang of your personality.

He notices how you seem to not be close with anyone among the maids, since they're either older than you by a few years or… simply old enough to be your mother. He watched you talk to them at some point, asking about things that you're not yet familiar with in the estate, and following their orders if you're needed. You were perfect and obedient and he never saw you complaining about any task laid in front of you.

As a sound came from the front door, Satoru jerked his head up from where he sat on the grass. He saw you walking out in more casual clothes, piquing his interest immediately as he stood to go to you.

“Are you going somewhere?” Satoru curiously asked as soon as he got to your side. He noticed the way you jumped back a bit, clearly not expecting his sudden appearance.

“Uh, yeah… I'm going out a bit.” You answered shortly.

“Where?” Satoru glanced in front of the two of you where a familiar face was waiting at the car, their family driver, waiting for you.

“The grocery store.”

“Right. I'll take you.”

“What?”

You both stopped on your tracks as you looked at him confused. You tried to read his expression, but Satoru only offered you a cheeky smile. He walked ahead so he could talk to the driver before taking the keys from him. He strode to the passenger seat and opened the door for you without a word.

“Aren't you coming?”

And that's simply how you found yourself at the grocery store, with a tall man tailing behind you.

From the way he talks, and the way he carries himself into the room, every other woman that you two would walk past will sneak a glance at him. You'd hear teenage girls shrieking, even mothers with their child seated in a cart will look over at him. Satoru Gojo was just so majestic that everyone couldn't take their eyes away from him.

You felt awkward from the attention, even though you know that it's not for you, but they were still glancing over at your direction. You don't even know how you handled his little conversations all throughout the ride and even now at the store.

“Y/N! You should get some of this for yourself!” Satoru held up a bar of chocolate, practically shaking it in front of your face. “You know, so you can have some sweetness in your body. You always looked salty in the face.”

“Is that a joke?” You watched as he snickered at himself. You took the chocolate and put it back on the shelf. “Young Master, I strictly have to follow what's on the list that they gave me, so I'm sorry but I can't just rashly take something for myself.”

Satoru’s lips formed into a pout, crossing his arms at you like a child. “You're no fun.”

He follows you as you start to push the cart again, walking over another aisle. “And why the sudden formality? We're in public, Y/N.”

“That does not change the dynamics.” You replied shortly, not even entertaining the thought of informally calling him by his name.

“Why? We can't act like normal people outside?” He argues, taking the cart from you as he nudges you to the side. He pushed the cart instead, having you walk next to him instead.

His eyes narrowed intently while his eyes were looking over ahead. An unsettling feeling was tugging on his chest, his hands gripping on the cart while he pushed it forward. He let out an exasperated sigh.

“We are acting like normal people.”

“No. You're acting like we're not even friends. Like I'm just a business partner to you.” He scoffs, stopping to look at you. “Like you're a lowly servant and I'm the bad boss. I don't like it.”

You gazed back at his eyes and you don't understand why he looked so upset. You were just acting normal, like how you usually do when you're working around the estate, so what's got him so worked up?

But anyhow, you didn't want him to feel this way. So the best thing you could do was to talk calmly, trying to make him explain more.

“Why? I mean, am I not the servant and you the boss? Except the bad part.”

“We're not just that.”

Satoru gritted his teeth, and you noticed the way his jaw clenched which took you aback. You blinked a few times at him as you tried to read his expression, but all you could just see was him struggling to even find the right words to say.

You sighed, looking away from his face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel–”

“We're friends, aren't we?” Satoru cuts you off, his neck flushing red in embarrassment over the emotions stirring in his mind. His heart thumped off his chest and he hoped you couldn't hear it. “I mean… to me, we're friends. We've been talking for quite awhile now. So maybe… I thought you might feel the same… Don't you?”

You looked stunned by his words as he left you with a question that you were also asking yourself for quite some time now. He's right. You did feel the same. But worry gnaws on your skin that maybe you might've been just assuming his kindness for friendship, because you know all too well that a friendship between a low class woman like you and someone high standard like him would be impossible.

He's out of your league. Way too out of your league. And you always thought of him. Always hoped for him. Because you can't grasp him with your hands. The way he was always so close yet still so far.

But here he is. The beautiful man pouting his lips at you as he anticipates your answer. Because all Satoru wants is just for you to feel the same way as him.

You nodded reluctantly, turning your body away from him so you could continue your stroll in the store. “Okay… Sure…”

A smile finally etched on his lips. There was a small glint of happiness tainted on his blue eyes, shining brightly while he followed you from behind, pushing the cart with him. “Sure, what? I want to hear it!”

And there he was, back again to his usual personality. He nudges and bothers you like a child the whole time, trying to pull tricks on how he'll get you to say the words he wants to hear.

In the end, he simply just gave up when you showed no signs of relenting over to him. He knew you wouldn't, but the moment made him smile. He was satisfied and happy enough that at least you admitted it, even not directly. But to Gojo Satoru, small things still mattered and he wouldn't ask for anything more as long as it's you.

PRESENT

Satoru Gojo still remembers how vulnerable he had been. Well, can he blame himself? He was young, and naive.

He doesn't understand why he wanted you so much to notice him. He didn't understand how you made him feel that way… and he didn't want to feel the same anymore.

Satoru looks at you from afar painfully. His eyes shutting tightly at all the memories that still haunted his already tired heart, haunting the heart that still threatens to beat for you.

He was so mad. Still mad at you for leaving. Mad at you for making him feel so hopeless and weak. Mad at you for leaving him alone to deal with the consequences of falling in love.

But he's so… desperately… utterly… helplessly in love. His heart always ached and longed for you. The woman who swept him off his feet, the woman with gentle smiles and soft hands that touched his heart, the woman who used to utter her words of affection right before his ears. Why? Why did you even leave?

He's so, so mad at you. Because even until now, he still longs for the day that you might have looked at him the same way that you used to before.

He watched as you slowly poured him his tea, your hands still graciously performing the move.

But your hands were shaking, your eyes trembling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. Pouring tea for him like you used to do seemed to be the hardest task now that everything has changed between you. You gulped, focusing on the cup that was about to be full.

You didn't expect your hands to fail you just then. Your hand suddenly moves in nervousness causing you to nudge the cup and spill the tea right over the table. You jolted in shock as you shakily put the kettle down and quickly muttered apologies.

Satoru stared you down. And for a moment he wanted to pity the woman before him who seemed to have lost herself. But no, he can't just be weak for you again after all these years.

“How bothersome.” He scoffs at you, making you stop. The air was thick with tension and Satoru’s irritation was evident in his expression while you gulped in nervousness. It was the first time that you ever felt so defenceless before him.

“I'm… so sorry…” You muttered slowly, your gaze locked on the mess that you've made.

“I don't need your sorry, Y/N.” The words rolled off his tongue bitterly, and he didn't even think about the way he sounded so harsh. “Clean the mess, and get your face out of my sight.”

he's down bad crying at the gym lol let me know if you want to be added on the taglist !!

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[novaursa]

Twin Fires

- Summary: Both you and Aegon have no problem expressing your desires openly and torment everybody in the Red Keep.

- Pairing: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 665

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You sit on the chair beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on his arm. The room is filled with the dull murmur of the small council meeting, the voices of the Lords Tyland, Larys, Jasper, Otto, and Grand Maester Orwyle blending into an almost rhythmic drone. You can see Aegon's eyes glazing over as his mind drifts away from the discussions of grain supplies and tax levies. You know exactly where his thoughts have gone.

Aegon shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. He can't stop thinking about the night before, the way your skin felt against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. The council's voices fade into the background as he remembers the way you gasped his name, the look in your eyes as he pulled you closer. His lips twitch into a small, satisfied smile.

"Your Grace," Otto's sharp voice cuts through Aegon's reverie. "Would you care to join us in the present? We were discussing the matter of the Dornish threat on our southern border."

Aegon blinks, attempting to pull himself back to the present. "Yes, yes, of course," he says, though he has no idea what Otto was talking about. His mind is still on you, on the way your hair spread out across the pillows, the way you whispered his name.

Otto's eyes narrow. "It seems your thoughts are elsewhere, Your Grace. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us on what is so captivating."

Aegon feels the eyes of the council on him, but he can't help the smirk that forms on his lips. "Just thinking about my Queen," he says, his voice low and suggestive. "Last night was... eventful."

You feel your cheeks heat at the memory and the implication of his words. The council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, while Otto's face turns a deep shade of red.

"Your Grace," Otto says through gritted teeth, "perhaps now is not the time for such... reflections."

Aegon laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, come now, Otto. Surely even you can appreciate the joys of marriage."

Tyland coughs, trying to hide a smile behind his hand, while Larys's eyes gleam with amusement. Jasper seems to be studying a particularly interesting spot on the table, avoiding looking at anyone.

The Grand Maester clears his throat. "Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand," he suggests diplomatically.

"Yes, let's," Otto agrees, his voice tight. "As I was saying, the Dornish—"

Aegon's thoughts drift away again, this time to the look on Otto's face when he walked in on the two of you in the gardens. Aegon had you pressed up against the stone wall, your skirts hitched up around your waist. Otto had stammered and turned bright red, backing away as quickly as he could.

"Y/N," Aegon says, turning to you with a wicked grin, "do you remember when Grandsire walked in on us?"

You can’t help but laugh softly, nodding. "Yes, I do. He looked like he was about to faint."

Otto's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the table. "Your Grace, please," he grinds out. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"Lighten up, Otto," Aegon says, waving a hand dismissively. "A little levity never hurt anyone."

The tension in the room breaks slightly as the other council members chuckle. Otto, however, looks like he's about to explode.

"Perhaps we should adjourn for today," Aegon suggests, rising to his feet. "I believe we've accomplished quite enough."

Otto opens his mouth to protest, but Aegon is already moving, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intimate. "Let's continue this discussion elsewhere."

As you leave the room, you can feel the council's eyes on your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the warmth of Aegon's hand in yours, and the promise of what the rest of the day holds.

Aegon leads you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. The flickering torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an intimate atmosphere that sets your heart racing. The echoes of the small council meeting fade away, replaced by the anticipation of what is to come.

Instead of heading to your private chambers, Aegon pulls you toward the grand library, a place of quiet refuge and intellectual pursuit. The scent of old parchment and leather-bound tomes fills the air as you enter, the dim lighting from the candles casting a warm glow on the rows upon rows of books.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't wait to continue where we left off last night."

You shiver at his words, your own desire mirrored in his eyes. He leads you to a secluded corner, hidden from view by towering bookshelves. Aegon presses you against the polished wood, his hands eager as they roam your body. The library's quiet solitude only adds to the excitement, the risk of being discovered making your heart race.

But just as Aegon is about to pull you into a passionate kiss, a soft cough from behind a nearby shelf makes you both freeze. Aegon straightens, his head snapping towards the sound. Emerging from the shadows, a book in hand and expression stern, is Aemond.

"Aemond," Aegon says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't expect you to be lurking in the library."

"I can see that," Aemond replies dryly, stepping into the candlelight. "Must you always be so public about your... activities, brother?"

Aegon laughs, the sound deep and unabashed. "Why not? What's the point of being king if you can't enjoy yourself?"

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly unimpressed. "There are other ways to enjoy oneself that don't involve making a spectacle."

Aegon pulls you closer, his hand slipping around your waist. "But where's the fun in that, brother? Life is too short to be so serious all the time."

You can feel the tension in the library, but there's also a hint of amusement in Aemond's gaze. He shakes his head, exasperated but not entirely unamused. "You are impossible, Aegon."

"That's why you love me," Aegon replies, grinning. "Now, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something."

Aemond raises an eyebrow. "Clearly. But perhaps you could exercise a bit more discretion. The walls have ears, and not all of them are friendly."

Aegon waves a hand dismissively. "Let them listen. Maybe they'll learn something."

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. Aegon turns his attention back to you, his eyes dark with intent. "Shall we continue, my love?"

Aemond sighs, shaking his head again. "Very well. I'll leave you to it. But please, try to keep it down this time."

As Aemond turns to leave, Aegon can't resist one last jibe. "Don't be jealous, Aemond. You'll find your own fun one day."

Aemond pauses at the doorway, glancing back with a faint smile. "One can only hope."

The door closes behind him, and you and Aegon are alone once more. Aegon pulls you into a deep kiss, his hands eager and insistent. The interruption seems only to have fueled his desire, his need for you more urgent than ever.

"Now, where were we?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive whisper.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Right here," you reply, pulling him closer.

As the passion between you reignites, the lingering humor of Aemond's intrusion adds a layer of excitement to the encounter. The grand library might have its hidden eyes and ears, but in this moment, all that matters is the fire burning between you and your king.

Your bodies are entwined, the weight of Aegon's heated skin pressing down on yours as you both clutch desperately at each other in the dimly lit library. The scent of parchment and aged leather fills the air, mixing with the intoxicating musk of your fervent lovemaking. Aegon's platinum blond hair falls over his eyes, glistening with sweat, as he murmurs your name — Y/N — with breathless urgency.

"More, Aegon," you gasp, fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. His lips are on your neck, your shoulders, everywhere at once, as if he can never get enough of you.

"You always want more," he grins against your skin, his voice a low growl of pleasure and amusement. "And I always want to give it to you."

You arch against him, your breath catching as he moves within you, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. Your world narrows to the sensation of his body, the heat of his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

Just as the world is about to shatter into a million pieces of ecstasy, the library door slams open with a thunderous crash. "Aegon! Y/N!" Dowager Queen Alicent's voice rings out, sharp and furious.

Aegon jolts, startled, and the sudden motion pushes him deeper into you, causing you both to cry out in unexpected bliss. The impact sends you both stumbling backward into a massive bookshelf. There's a moment of stunned silence before the entire row of shelves begins to topple like dominos, books cascading to the floor in a chaotic storm of paper and bindings.

As the dust settles, you find yourself pinned beneath Aegon, both of you as naked as the day you were born. His violet eyes are wide with a mix of shock and lingering desire, but there's a hint of laughter in them too. You can't help but chuckle softly, the absurdity of the situation taking hold again.

Alicent stands there, her face a mask of fury, flanked by a pale and trembling Grand Maester Orwyle, who looks like he's about to collapse. His precious tomes from the Citadel lie scattered and crushed around you.

"Mother," Aegon starts, still half-laughing, "I didn't hear you knock."

"Knock?" Alicent's voice rises in pitch, her hands clenching at her sides. "You have no sense of shame or propriety! Look at you both!"

You glance at Aegon, then back at your mother, feeling no shame whatsoever. "We were...occupied," you say with a coy smile.

Aegon shifts slightly, still positioned rather intimately, and you can't help but stifle a giggle. "We were, indeed," he agrees, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Alicent throws her hands up in exasperation. "Occupied! In the library! Grand Maester Orwyle has important matters to discuss, and you are here...doing this!"

Orwyle makes a strangled noise, his eyes darting to the ruined books. "My...my tomes..."

Aegon looks around, still atop you, and shrugs. "They can be replaced, Orwyle. Unlike my dear sister-wife, who I cannot get enough of."

You can't help but laugh, reaching up to pull him down for a quick kiss. "Flatterer," you murmur against his lips.

Alicent's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Enough! Both of you! Get up and get dressed this instant!"

With exaggerated slowness, Aegon finally rolls off you, standing and offering you a hand up. You take it, rising gracefully despite the chaos around you. Neither of you bothers to cover yourselves, reveling in your mother's discomfort.

As you both dress leisurely, Alicent mutters angrily under her breath, and Orwyle looks like he's aged a decade in mere minutes. The library is a mess, but to you and Aegon, it's just another amusing chapter in your reign as King and Queen.

Once clothed, Aegon winks at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shall we continue this...discussion later once more, my love?"

You return his smile, feeling the heat already rising again between you. "Oh, absolutely, Your Grace. I can't wait."

Alicent groans, turning away with a huff. "Seven save me," she mutters, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Despite her anger, even she can't deny the unbreakable bond you share with Aegon.

You and Aegon stride through the open doors of the library, a sea of wide-eyed servants parting before you. Whispers and shocked glances follow your every step, but you and Aegon remain completely unaffected, wearing expressions of amused indifference. The thrill of your recent encounter still lingers, and you can feel Aegon's hand subtly brushing against yours, a promise of more to come.

"Well," Aegon muses loudly, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Since the library is no longer an option, how about the throne room next?"

You hear a gasp from a cluster of maids, their faces a mix of scandal and fascination. Just as you are about to reply with a cheeky retort, Alicent's voice rings out from the library, where she is still consulting with Orwyle. "Aegon! Y/N! I swear by the Seven, if you even think about it, you'll both be confined to your chambers for a month!"

Aegon grins, leaning close to whisper in your ear. "I think she's bluffing. The throne room would be quite the statement, don't you think?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Perhaps another time, Aegon. We should at least pretend to heed her warnings once in a while."

He sighs dramatically but nods, his arm slipping around your waist as you continue down the hall. "Very well, my Queen. For now."

The next morning, the sun filters through the windows of the council chamber, casting a warm glow over the ancient stone walls. Alicent paces back and forth, her brow furrowed in frustration. Across from her, Otto Hightower sits at a polished wooden table, his expression calm but concerned.

"Alicent," he begins, his tone measured, "we need to address the behavior of the twins. This...scandalous display cannot continue. It undermines their authority and brings dishonor to the throne."

Alicent stops pacing, turning to face her father. "Believe me, Father, I am well aware. Yesterday's debacle in the library was just the latest in a long line of their...indiscretions."

Otto sighs, folding his hands on the table. "We must find a way to curb their impulses. Aegon and Y/N's bond is undeniably strong, but it is also causing disruptions. The court is buzzing with rumors, and the smallfolk are beginning to talk."

Alicent nods, her frustration evident. "I've tried talking to them, scolding them, threatening them with confinement, but nothing seems to work. They simply don't care."

Otto leans back in his chair, considering. "Perhaps we need a different approach. Something more...persuasive. Have you considered involving the High Septon? His influence could carry weight, even with those as headstrong as Aegon and Y/N."

Alicent's eyes widen slightly at the suggestion. "The High Septon? Are we really at that point, Father?"

Otto nods solemnly. "If we are to maintain order and respect, we must consider all options. Aegon is King, and Y/N is Queen, but they must learn that their actions have consequences beyond their own pleasure."

Alicent sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well. I will arrange a meeting with the High Septon. Perhaps he can impress upon them the seriousness of their duties."

Otto reaches out to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "It is for the best, Alicent. For the realm, and for them. They must learn to balance their love with their responsibilities."

As Alicent nods, determined but weary, you and Aegon lounge in your chambers, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Wrapped in each other's arms, you share a lazy, contented morning, your laughter and whispered promises a stark contrast to the serious discussions unfolding elsewhere in the Red Keep.

Aegon presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "What do you think Mother and Grandsire are plotting now?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No doubt some scheme to rein us in. But we have each other, Aegon. Whatever they plan, we'll face it."

He smiles, a slow, lazy grin that makes your heart flutter. "Always, my love. Always."