#sorry this was a long response but my feelings are complicated

[girl-bateman]

it sounds so obvious now, but im pretty sure my physical problems rn can all be traced back to the fact that my brain and body has been in a constant hypervigilance and cortisol overload for 3 months straight. the dizziness, the blackouts, the acne, the constant nausea, the giant eyebags and sudden crows feet ?? Like yeah, no shit thats what happens when ur every waking hour is the equivalent of that camille preaker crying gif

[todayisafridaynight]

To Be Abnormal for a second Every Frame A Painting If Jo Is In It right... an exquisite top pick... his attitude and body language are So Cunty when he's in control of a situation... he's just very fun to watch and the Context that the cap is part such a sequence and what comes before and after elevates it...

Plus the lighting and color grading in the office is very suited to Jo's design with the purple and pink undertones, and the general framing/negative space/value distribution in that particular shot is Just Good; the blinds also make for a nice backdrop and the way he casts this really soft shadow behind him does a lot to make him subtly stand out from the background... ALSO I love the detail of the blinds being Kind Of Fucked Up In Places like he put his hands on them with a little too much force at some point and [being dragged away to be institutionalized]

BUT YEAH NO I DELETED THE POST BUT I DEFINITELY. HAD SOME THOUGHTS. AS YOU CAN SEE.

It's not JUST that it's A Disservice To Mr. Tsutsumi it's that... as I was sort of talking about at the stream with young [i.e. eighties] Jo although I didn't elaborate... this and some other decisions age him so much. Like, when Tsutsumi was actually around that age, he looked like this. A Baby.

And I just think... NOT having that wide-eyed innocence isn't as fitting. It's like buying into Jo's Belief that he's all-grown-up when really he's still got the mentality and coping mechanisms of a child at fifteen and hangs onto a great deal of it well into adulthood... I think it was important to give him a face people'd instantly want to protect to place visual emphasis on the enormity of everything going on in Jo's monologue.

Would also apply to what you were talking about in the MineDai-AraSawa comparison ask, how Arakawa might feel extra-concerned for him because he's younger [I can't say much because my age gap with most of my friends is big anyway, but I frequently see my friends in their mid-twenties or later feel that way with their friends in their early-twenties]

Like it's THERE I just want it to be there visually... in a visual medium... in the ONLY visual medium where de-aging someone with 100% accuracy would be possible... is that so much to ask...

HIS CUNTINESS YEAH that's the way to put it (❁´◡`❁) tbf i color corrected the scene Just A Little since the cap i had was just Weirdly Dark BUT the colors ARE still there.... his suit and overall character does just Pop against how white/grey everything is around him

AND YEAYEA THE FACT HIS BLINDS ARE A LITTLE BENT IN SOME PLACES it's a tiny detail but it's one of my favorite things i noticed- i didnt think it was worth mentioning but im glad you noticed it too (╯▽╰ )

BUT BEHIND THE LORE REASONS™️ TO NERF TTM'S LIPS YEAH lowkey that's how ive forever chosen to interpret jo's flashbacks and why he seems so much older in them (Alongside with arakawa sounding older than he reasonably should at that point BUT ig you can make a case of The Yakuza Aging Someone idk not the main point). i think rgg just knew that if they kept ttm's natural lips i wasn't going to take sawashiro seriously for any longer than five seconds before being wholeheartedly distracted.. (￣人￣)

[propertyofwicked]

DIAL DRUNK - LN

summary - lando had always been her rock, her best friend whose laughter brightened her darkest days. but when she drifted away after starting a new relationship, lando was left confused and heartbroken, eventually discovering the painful truth of her struggles and the depths of his unwavering loyalty.

warnings - mention of toxic + somewhat abusive boyfriend (not lando), fighting, alcohol - happy ending (cos im not mean)

please stay safe and dont read this if any of these warnings will effect you! i will be back with a new post soon! look after yourselves <3

✧ my inbox is open ✧

masterlist the playlist

lando norris had always been the light in her life, the best friend who made everything better with his infectious laughter and unwavering support. their bond was unbreakable, or so he thought. but when she started dating her new boyfriend, everything changed. she stopped answering his calls, missed their regular meet-ups, and slowly drifted away. everyone was surprised when she stopped showing up to races, or when she no longer appeared on lando’s instagram - both in pictures and the comments.

lando was confused and hurt, but he respected her decision, believing she was simply busy with her new relationship. and even if he only heard from her when she sent a text to congratulate him on a race result, he was just happy she was still supporting him from wherever she was.

the first time she hadn’t attended one of his races, he had texted her afterward, "missed you this weekend, hope everything's okay." her reply came hours later: "sorry, got caught up with something. next time for sure." but there was no next time. race after race, her absence was palpable.

the missed calls were harder to ignore. at first, she would call back with an excuse. "sorry, my phone was on silent," or "i was out with friends, lost track of time." but soon, she stopped calling back altogether. lando's messages grew more worried, but he tried to keep them light. "everything alright? feels like we haven't talked in ages." the responses were always brief, vague, and unsatisfying. "yeah, just busy. talk soon."

then came the day he saw a picture of her and her boyfriend on social media. they looked happy, but something about her smile seemed off. forced. he left a comment, something friendly and supportive, but she didn't reply. she didn't even like the comment. lando felt a knot in his stomach. something was wrong, but he didn't know what, and she wasn't letting him in.

the isolation gnawed at him. he missed their late-night conversations, the way they would laugh until their sides hurt. he missed her being the first person he called with good news, and the one who would cheer him up when things didn't go as planned. it was like a piece of his life had gone missing, and he had no idea how to get it back.

one night, after a particularly tough race, lando found himself dialling her number, despite knowing she probably wouldn't answer. the phone rang and rang, and just as he was about to hang up, she picked up. her voice was a whisper.

"lando, i can't talk right now."

"what's going on?" he asked, his voice breaking. "why are you shutting me out?"

there was a long pause. he could hear her breathing, could almost feel the weight of whatever she was struggling with.

"it's... complicated," she finally said. "i'm sorry."

"complicated how?" he pressed.

"i can't," she whispered. "i'm sorry." and then she hung up.

lando stared at his phone, feeling more lost and helpless than ever. what had happened to her? why was she pushing him away? he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, but without her willing to talk, he had no way to help her.

the texts and calls grew less frequent. she stopped liking his posts, stopped commenting on his photos. it was like she had disappeared from his life entirely. the only sign he had that she was still out there were the occasional texts after a race, short messages of congratulations that felt hollow and distant.

each time his phone buzzed with one of those messages, it was a bittersweet moment. he was glad she still cared enough to reach out, but the emptiness of her words was a constant reminder of how far apart they had drifted. he missed her more than he could put into words, and the pain of her absence was a constant ache in his chest.

he truly didn’t expect to see her that night, especially not stood at the bar of a busy club that he and max had gone to, and not stood alone.

“y/n hey!” he called out, approaching her quickly and taking her in a quick embrace as he tried desperately to ignore the way she flinches and stiffened her posture.

“hi!” she replied, smiling at him nonetheless.

“how have you been? i feel like i haven’t seen you in a while.”

“i’m ok - how are you? still reeling from your first win?” she replied again, her posture softening as the bar tender handed her a glass of white wine. again, lando tried to ignore how different this was - he’d never seen her drink anything other than a malibu coke when they went out.

“i guess you could say that,” he responded happily, though not without noticing how different she looked - the was smaller, and her natural smile was gone, replaced with this horrid fake grin he had only seen on a handful of occasions, ��who are you here with?”

“oh! i came with mich-”

“michael. and you are..?”

the voice had interrupted her, and her shoulders peaked up in anxiety once more as her boyfriend stood behind her, his frame towering hers slightly. he had his hand stuck out, in attempt to greet lando as if he had no idea who he was. he did. in fact, lando was a sore spot in his and y/n’s relationship.

“lando,” he replied, though neglecting to shake his hand, “i’ll leave you to it. come say hi before you leave,” he added, before turning swiftly on his heel to re-join max and a few others of their friends who had joined.

and as his drinks kept flowing, so did his thoughts. lando’s eyes were drawn to the table she sat on, looking out of place surrounded by michael and his friends. this wasn’t the y/n he knew, but he feared this was the new her, the her who was no longer his friend, no longer the girl that would spend hours with him doing everything and nothing at the same time.

lando wasn’t quite sure how drunk he was, not until he was stumbling to and from the bathroom, his vision clouded but not enough to distract him from the fact that y/n and michael had left their booth, and yet he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come to say goodbye. he himself thought it best to call it a night and head back to the comfort of his flat.

but then he saw them. she was arguing with her boyfriend, tears streaming down her face as michael was yelling, his grip on her arm tight and aggressive.

"you've had a face like a slapped arse all night," he snarled, his voice low but seething with anger. "you refuse to enjoy yourself unless it's your idea. you're so selfish."

"i'm not," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "i just... i don't feel comfortable here."

"oh, really? you never feel comfortable anywhere unless you're in control," michael spat, shaking her slightly. "you ruin everything."

"that's not true," she sobbed, trying to pull away. "please, michael, just let me go."

"no, we're going to sort this out right now," he growled, his grip tightening.

lando's heart pounded with a mixture of rage and concern, quickly finding himself pushing the door to the club open, barely allowing the cold night air to engulf him before he was striding over to the couple.

"hey, let her go!" lando demanded, stepping between them.

"this is none of your business," michael sneered, not loosening his grip.

"it is when you're hurting her," lando shot back, his voice steady but eyes blazing with anger. he could see the fear in her eyes, and it broke his heart.

"lando, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "just go."

"i'm not leaving you with him," lando said firmly. "not like this."

“leave it, lando. i’m fine, i promise,” she continued shakily.

“oh yeah - defend him. as per fucking usual y/n,” michael yelled once more, letting go of his grip on her arm to push her back, the two men watching as she stumbled, almost losing her footing. lando stepped quickly, grabbing her waist softly, but enough to steady her once more.

“you ok?” he whispered to her, waiting for her to nod quickly at him then spinning around to face her boyfriend once more. before he could open his mouth to speak, michael’s fist was swiftly approaching lando’s face, to which he only missed slightly - only briefly making contact with his cheek as lando dodged the hit.

“right. so that’s how we’re playing this? cool,” lando announced, no longer trying to keep his calmness at the forefront of his mind as he raised his own fist, landing a punch square to the man’s face, driven by a protective instinct, months of pent-up frustration, and, quite potentially, the alcohol streaming through him. someone called the police, and before lando knew it, he was being pulled away, handcuffed and led to a police car.

“sir - your emergency contact is still not answering our calls - is there anyone else you’d like us to call?”

lando's heart sank, feeling like he had truly lost her.

“who did michael call as his emergency contact?” lando asked the officer, ignoring his previous question.

“we can’t disclose that information,” the officer responded with a sigh, but looked around the room quickly before adding a hushed, “it wasn’t her. if that helps.”

lando nodded at him quickly, trying to think of anyone who could come and pick him up from the station.

“try my friend max - his number should be in my phone somewhere,” lando told him to which the officer turned to go and retrieve his phone from evidence having not needed it before as he remembered y/n’s number like it was his own name. as the officer handed him his phone, he hesitated.

“listen,” he began softly, “someone who won’t even pick up the phone... are they really worth a potential assault charge?”

lando felt a surge of anger mixed with a deep sadness. “yes, she is. or at least, the version of her that i knew was worth it,” he said firmly. “she’s been through a lot. it’s not her fault.”

any rational person would not be defending someone who had ghosted them for months on end. he was overwhelmed, sad, angry - but rational? he was far from it right now.

the officer nodded, seeing the determination in lando’s eyes. “alright, i hope things work out for you both.”

“mr norris? your ride is here,” a new officer announced an hour later, handing lando a bag of his personal belongings before sending him through the door. stood face to face with max in a police station was not his idea of a nice night out.

“come on, mate. let’s get you home,” max said, smiling sadly at him as he led them to his car, “so, when’s the court date?”

“there isn’t one, luckily,” lando told him, buckling himself in and leaning into the seat in exhaustion, “injuries weren’t severe enough and he didn’t want to press charges.”

“lucky, indeed,” max hummed, “can i ask why?”

“you can ask. do i have to answer?”

“no, i guess not.”

“good.”

the car ride was silent from then on until they arrived at lando’s building, bidding each other goodbye quickly, before parting ways. lando swore the elevator was slower at 3am as he returned to his apartment, exhausted and disheartened.

as he approached his door, he saw her sitting on the door matt, her makeup ruined by tears. she looked up, eyes filled with sorrow and regret.

"lando," she choked out, standing up. lando didn't say anything at first, shocked that she was really here. he just pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as she sobbed against his chest.

"it's okay," he whispered. "i'm just glad you're here now."

they stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms. finally, she pulled back, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"i'm so sorry,” she started again, pushing through her tears, “does it hurt?” she asked him, her fingers running softly over the slight bruising that dusted his cheeks.

“oh this? this is nothing - you should see the other guy,” he joked, trying to ignore his own pain, desperate to see her smile.

“i don’t think i want to see the other guy ever again,” she replied remorsefully.

“why did you do it, y/n? why did you disappear? why did you change?”

“i-i didn’t mean to. i didn’t want to lando, really. i didn’t,” she defended, “but he would just get so jealous, so angry, any time i spoke to you, or about you. he would say things. about me. about you. things that hurt. and i just kept thinking that maybe it would get better. maybe it would stop.”

“but it didn’t,” lando added for her, trailing off slightly. she didn’t respond verbally, rather, she merely nodded at him.

“oh y/n,” he sympathised, “you should’ve said, i could’ve done something. anything.”

“i just- i thought he liked me y’know. i thought maybe after a while he’d come around. and then he would guilt me into missing your races, or delete your messages from my phone. i never meant to ignore you lan, i promise,” she sighed, tears still cascading down her face, “can you ever forgive me?"

"there's nothing to forgive," lando said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "you were in a tough situation. i'm just sorry i couldn't help you. god knows i would do anything to help you, angel."

she nodded, tears still falling, but there was a small, hopeful smile on her lips. "thank you, lando. for everything."

“come on, you want a cuppa?”

“always.”

“there she is,” he smiled at her widely, “there’s the y/n i know.”

the two shuffled inside, and lando made her a cup of tea just like old times. they talked for hours, about everything and nothing until any awkwardness from their separation dissipated into the night, until the sun began to rise. the start of a new day.

"i missed you," she whispered, her head resting on his shoulder as they sat together on the sofa, their skin illuminated by the orange tinge of sun peaking through the large windows.

"i missed you too," lando replied, gently kissing the top of her head. "and i'm never letting anything come between us again."

“tell me about miami,” she asked after a few moments of silence.

“ive already told you 3 times tonight.”

“i know, but i want to hear it again,” she whined, “i’ll never forgive myself for not being there.”

she smiled as he began to talk again, feeling safe and loved for the first time in a long while. they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's presence, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[billloveshushu]

Chapter 01 - 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭

✦━ Platonic Batfamily x BabyOC.

━ ✦ Next Chapter

✧Synopsis━ a baby was rescued by Batman on one of his missions, feeling responsible, Bruce decided to adopt her. But the question is that the baby knew she was in the comic book world, not knowing how to react or why, will she survive in this traumatized family?

✦ ("") thoughts (━) dialogue ✦

English is not my original language, the translation was done by Google Translate. So sorry for any spelling mistakes.

In a luxurious mansion, there was a room that was different from the other rooms, which were clean and organized but all lonely and without a hint of life, showing that someone had lived there for a long time, but in this room the floor was padded by a soft carpet. and there were toys and stuffed bears scattered everywhere, the drawers on the walls were full of diapers, powder and baby wipes, and in the corner of the room there was a baby bed.

Inside it was a small baby with a very peculiar appearance, it had black skin the color of chocolate, with vibrant red hair that highlighted its light brown eyes, the baby looked around confused and in disbelief at what was happening.

" How did I end up here? "

Just two days ago she was in the hospital, remembering few things, until a nurse came and took her to an elegant man in a suit who was accompanied by an old man. When she heard the nurse say the man's name, something clicked in her head: " Bruce Wayne!? "

Suddenly, a whole bar of comic books appeared in her mind, comic books that she loved reading, but her favorite stories were about a hero called Batman, with his family that was called the Batfamily. It was then that she realized that she was in the world of comics and that the man talking to the nurse was the fearsome Batman.

She spent the entire trip to Wayne Manor in a daze and hadn't even noticed Bruce's certain ignorance, anyway on the first day she just stared at Alfred and Bruce wondering if it was really real. Only the next day when she was woken up by Alfred did she start to wonder why she was in the mansion, was she adopted? But knowing Bruce he would never adopt a baby with the life he leads as Batman.

So there is only one option left, something tragic happened that she doesn't remember, and maybe that's why she was admitted to the hospital. Well, her theory was right, and she found out thanks to the discussion that was happening on the nursery side. The baby looked at the butler who, despite being quite old, was standing firm and with good posture, arguing with Bruce who had bandages on his face, he was wearing a white shirt that showed that his face wasn't the only injured part.

Alfred was trying to get Bruce to stay and recover from his wounds, but Bruce didn't care about his injuries and said he would go back to the streets tonight and capture those miserable groups. That's when she discovered his story.

Apparently, she was rescued by Batman in one of his most complicated missions, where he was investigating, together with Barbara Gordon (Oracle), the largest human trafficking network in Gotham City. During the mission they even had help from several villains who also didn't like this situation, they found the drug dealers' hideout and planned to end it all that night but it didn't go as planned, the drug dealers had an ace up their sleeve.

They planted bombs in one of their trafficking sites, which was disguised as an orphanage, the problem was that there were children living there, they did this on purpose in case Batman found them, they knew he would drop everything to save them.

In the end they managed to escape and Batman didn't arrive in time, he could only see the big explosion happening in front of him, he managed to save a few children who still had several burns and many were killed by the explosion, the Wayne Industry Corporation financed all the support financial support for the victims including the funerals, and the victims' funeral took place on a cloudy and rainy day, where all of Gotham mourned for the innocent lives.

She could see the anger on his face, perhaps disappointment with himself too, Alfred was the same way, outraged at the poor children's lives that were used but he remained calm knowing that he had to treat his master/son's injuries.

━ Mr. Bruce, I understand your anger but you cannot leave right after your recovery.

━But Alfred! I can't stay here knowing that they will be out there on the loose!

Alfred frowns but stops, knowing he won't be able to convince the bat man any further. Suddenly a noise arose, the two men looked at the baby who was embarrassed and placed her hands on her belly, relieving the tension in the room. Alfred went to make the milk and left the room, Bruce put his hand on his forehead irritably and sat down on a sofa in the room.

She looked at the melancholy man "even though it's the first time I've seen him in person, doesn't he look older?"

His face had bandaged wounds, droopy eyes that screamed for sleep, and an unfinished drool, he was clearly dejected by recent events, showing that carrying the mantle of Batman was not easy.

This is not surprising, for the sake of Batman he sacrificed many things including his physical and mental health, but the thing he hated most was hurting or worrying Alfred, he knew that the butler wanted him to rest for his own good, and yet he acted like a child. While he was mourning, Bruce felt the baby looking at him, but he didn't dare look back, since that day he avoided looking at her face, not even remembering what it was like.

Bruce remembers that bloody night , it was too late to ask for help from the others who were still far from Gotham, He could only watch the explosion happen and rescue as many people as possible until a child stopped him asking for help, saying that there was a room deeper in the orphanage and a baby was trapped there.

Bruce had never felt so much panic and adrenaline rushing through his body, he didn't know how he got past the burning fire until he entered the room that was half hidden and found a fallen nursery and saw the small body of a baby covered in blood .

Even for Batman this vision is too strong, he remembered how he carried the small, almost lifeless body, no, he was sure she was dead until the nurse took her and said there was a sign of life.

He doesn't know if this was an illusion at the time, even the doctors said it was a miracle for a baby just a few months old to survive in this state.

Given his critical condition, the baby took a month to recover, but he had several sequelae that needed to be treated over time. Bruce, seeing this situation, decided to adopt the baby to be responsible for him and finance all his treatments and medical expenses.

The last time he saw the baby up close was when Alfred held the baby in his arms taking her to the mansion, after that, Bruce avoided her and left her in Alfred's care, he never held her, and didn't even look at her face and avoided entering her room until now, it was as if he was...

As if he was afraid .

Alfred arrived with the bottle and picked up the baby gently and adjusted his posture to be more comfortable, and Bruce saw this from afar until the baby finished drinking the milk and the butler cleaned his little mouth, putting him back in the nursery because he realized he was sleepy.

In her last moments struggling with her eyelids nearly closing, she saw Bruce leaving the room silently and wondered " Why didn't he look at me? " before falling into the dream world.

It had been a week since the baby had last seen Bruce, she wondered, should she care?

Since arriving at this mansion, Bruce had avoided her like the plague, she wasn't stupid enough to not realize that, at first she was angry but soon the anger disappeared, she had no reason for it and she didn't even know him well.

She knew Batman from the comics but not Bruce Wayne, she always saw Batman being portrayed as the supreme hero, the vigilante who took justice into his own hands, not as a family man who has many children, the comics didn't go into much depth from the family side. And when it was mentioned it was clear that Bruce failed many times as a father.

She even wondered if it was another child destined to be a Robin, or a child he just pitied, it didn't matter, at least she had Alfred who during that week became much more attached to Baby.

Alfred doesn't know how this little smiling ball won his heart so quickly, he always found himself worried about her, he noticed that he finished his work routine faster or stopped doing some things to just take care of the little one, he had never done that before.

At first, Alfred was worried, it had been so long since he had taken care of such a small baby that he even wondered about hiring a more specialized person.

But surprisingly it wasn't like that, she was a very calm and quiet baby and even smiling, he wondered if that was a problem until he saw her toothless smile in his arms as she hugged a stuffed cat.

To imagine that he was won over by just a crooked smile, perhaps his paternal instinct had returned.

After measuring the ideal temperature of the milk, Alfred saw the little baby in the living room sleeping on the sofa, she was resting her little cheeks which were crushed on the teddy bear bigger than her and several other stuffed animals around.

Alfred secretly took a picture of this cute scene and planned to make a photo album, the baby being woken up gently stretched her little arms towards the butler asking to be picked up, Alfred picked her up and watched her trying to open her little eyes while yawning.

He even rubbed her eyes, making her more awake.

As he looked at the baby who was drinking the milk and trying to grab the bottle with her fat little hands, he thought it would be nice if Bruce had the same thoughts, it wasn't just the baby who noticed the Billionaire's strange behavior, he realized at first glance that Bruce was avoiding her, he asked why and Bruce replied ━ When I look at her, I remember her body full of blood ...

Alfred was relieved that his actions were not malicious, but he was extremely sad when he noticed Bruce's fear, he didn't know if it could be called fear but it was similar to what happened with Jason, the fear of facing his greatest failure.

Even though the baby is fine now, she has suffered several after-effects. Alfred is always heartbroken when he sees the small, newly healed wounds and hopes that they will disappear as she grows, making that traumatic attack just a delusion.

Now he just wants Bruce to get over this and the baby to be okay.

After that, Alfred helped the baby burp and planned to take her to her room since this room was not very suitable for babies, until he felt a tug on his sleeve and saw the baby pointing to a painting in the room ━ Oh little one, these are your older brothers ━ Alfred said as he introduced each one.

Dick or Richard was smiling in the background and next to him was Jason who turned his head back hiding his face, on the other side was Tim and Damian, both of them were not smiling but Damian had a sullen face and arms crossed, in the armchair was sitting Duke who was smiling and Cassandra sitting on the arm of the armchair, she was also not smiling.

The baby looked around and tilted her head in confusion at Alfred who understood the message ━ No little ladyship, they are not here at the moment but they will be in the future.

The baby can only look at the picture again and wonder , " Will they like me? "

Night soon came, Alfred prepared the baby for bed by putting on new pajamas that imitated the figure of a baby sheep, it even had a tail, Alfred often bought new cute animal-themed clothes for the baby and took pictures of each one of them, I think he gained a new hobby.

After putting the talcum powder on the baby's neck, he was about to put her to sleep but suddenly stopped and looked at the bedroom door, the baby soon realized, Batman was back.

Alfred apologized and put her in the nursery, telling her to wait a little and left the room. She looked at the ceiling for a while and could hear some noises of Alfred helping Bruce and realized that the situation must be serious.

She even thought about going there, but she knew she couldn't, her body was still developing its locomotive abilities, and there was still the fact that she was recovering, so she thought it would just be a burden.

When her eyelids were almost closing, Alfred appeared again, but this time he carried her and took her to another room where Bruce could be seen lying on a bed covered in bandages and small wounds, the baby was surprised by the sight as Alfred took her closer.

You could see that Bruce was trying to sleep until he felt Alfred's presence and opened his eyes to see him until he noticed the small ball of fur in the butler's hands ━ huh?

Alfred, noticing the man's doubtful face, said━ Mr. Bruce, I'm afraid I won't be able to take care of the little lady while I prepare dinner, so please.

Alfred placed the little sheep on the bed along with Bruce who just watched the butler leave the room satisfied, leaving the two individuals looking confused at the door, Bruce knew that this was just an excuse from Alfred to get to know the child better but he couldn't help but swear a little.

Then he noticed the little girl crawling to his side and making small sounds, he felt her gaze on his face, Bruce knew that this was cowardly, he thought that after solving the case he would be fine, and would be able to face the child without any guilt, but this proved the opposite, he knows that this is ridiculous but every time he thinks about her he remembers the many times he failed as a father, remembering how negligent he was with his children.

Bruce wanted to move on and leave his mistakes in the past, but he couldn't, he couldn't help but think that because of him most of his children are not in the mansion.

He began to press his hand on his abdomen where the bandaged wound was, which opened with the pressure, starting to release a blood stain. The baby quickly placed her hand on him, trying to push him away, which ended up drawing his attention.

Bruce finally saw the baby and not that nightmare, he saw a small baby who had just recovered, with chubby red cheeks and her small, soft hand contrasting with his, which was large and full of scars, the baby's little face looked at him worriedly.

The baby saw Bruce's shocked look fill with guilt and her hands began to tremble, she didn't understand why this was happening, but she decided to be benevolent, she climbed onto his chest and hugged his neck rubbing her cheek against his as she tried to find a better position to sleep on his shoulder.

Still perplexed, Bruce raised his hands and held her, realizing how fragile she was, for the first time a newborn baby was in his care, a being so defenseless that it couldn't even run away from its predators, that should be protected and cared for, a small child that he still ignored and avoided out of sheer ridiculous fear.

━ I'm sorry... ━ Bruce said with his cold and authoritative voice, the baby looked surprised and saw the melancholic eyes.

She just hugged him tighter, while he held her and patted her head awkwardly.

Bruce from then on promised that he would protect her with all his heart and soul, that he would not make mistakes this time, promising to give her a long and happy life.

After a while Alfred arrived in the room just seeing Bruce sleeping holding the baby also asleep on his chest, he just smiled seeing the scene and was relieved to know that Bruce wouldn't need the medicine to sleep tonight, he discreetly left the room with a plate of food in his hands along with the medicine and closed the door without making any noise.

Continued...

[amourquinn]

NO MORE HIDING ; quinn hughes ( short fic )

pairing : quinn x fem!reader wc. 1k

genre : fluff friends to lovers no warnings

summary : in the warmth of a late winter night in vancouver, your friendship with quinn teeters on the edge of a change

vancouver was unusually warm for late winter. the city was bustling with the energy of the holidays, twinkling lights reflecting off the gentle ripples of false creek. you stood outside rogers arena, waiting for your best friend, quinn, who had just wrapped up practice.

you had been friends with quinn since his days at the university of michigan, where you’d both studied. while quinn’s life had taken him to the nhl, yours had remained grounded in academia, finishing your graduate degree in vancouver. you’d always supported his career, proud of every achievement, but somewhere along the way, your feelings had grown complicated.

the sound of the arena doors opening jolted you from your thoughts. quinn appeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, wearing that familiar, shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. his dark hair was slightly damp from the post-practice shower, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft. “sorry i kept you waiting.”

“no worries,” you replied. “ready to grab some food?”

“definitely. i’m starving.”

the two of you headed toward a cozy diner you often frequented together. quinn’s popularity in vancouver sometimes made it hard to go out without being recognized, but this spot was your little secret—quiet, low-key, and unbothered by fans or reporters.

as you settled into the booth, quinn glanced at you, his blue eyes studying your face. “you okay? you’ve been kind of quiet lately.”

you hesitated, not sure how to respond. the truth was, you’d been struggling with your growing feelings for him. spending time with quinn was both a blessing and a curse—his kindness, humor, and quiet intensity drew you in, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship you cherished so much.

“i’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “just busy with school stuff.”

quinn didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. instead, he launched into a story about practice, his face lighting up as he described a prank one of the guys had pulled on elias. you laughed, grateful for the distraction, but you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering on him a little too long.

after dinner, the two of you decided to walk along the seawall. the city sparkled around you, the air crisp and filled with the faint scent of pine trees from a nearby holiday market. quinn walked close beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

you looked up at him, surprised. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the water. “you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. even when i screw up or get in my own head, you’re just… there. i don’t think i say it enough, but it means a lot.”

your heart ached at his words, and you struggled to find the right response. “you don’t have to thank me for that. that’s what friends are for.”

quinn stopped walking, turning to face you. his expression was serious now, his brows furrowed in thought.

“i know we’re friends,” he said slowly, “but sometimes… i think about us being more than that.”

your breath caught in your throat. “quinn—”

he held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “just let me say this, okay? i’ve been trying to figure it out for a while now, and i can’t keep pretending it’s nothing. i think i might be in love with you.”

the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing.

“i—” you started, but your voice faltered.

quinn’s face fell, and he quickly shook his head. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to put you on the spot. forget i said anything.” he turned away, clearly embarrassed, but you reached out, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“quinn, wait,” you said, your voice firm now.

he looked back at you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“i’m not good at this,” you admitted, your words tumbling out in a rush. “i’ve been trying to bury how i feel because i didn’t want to mess up what we have. but hearing you say that… i think i’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

a slow smile spread across quinn’s face, and the tension between you seemed to dissolve. “you really mean that?”

you nodded, feeling the weight of your confession lift off your shoulders. “yeah, i do.”

quinn stepped closer, his hand brushing yours hesitantly before he intertwined your fingers. “so… what do we do now?”

you smiled, your heart racing as you looked up at him. “i guess we figure it out together.”

for a moment, quinn just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. then, without hesitation, he cupped your face gently, his palms warm against your cheeks.

“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

you nodded, your breath hitching. “please.”

his lips met yours in a kiss that was somehow both tentative and certain, a blend of nervousness and years of unspoken emotion. the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing under the glow of the holiday lights.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a quiet laugh escaping him. “i can’t believe that just happened.”

“me neither,” you whispered, smiling despite the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

quinn pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “i promise i’m going to do this right,” he murmured. “no rushing, no pressure. just us.”

you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. for the first time in months, the knot of anxiety in your chest eased. you didn’t know what the future held, but as quinn held you in the glow of the city lights, you knew one thing for sure: whatever came next, you’d face it together.

and as his hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together like they’d always belonged that way, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful.

© amourquinn

[myth1cs]

That one back Tattoo (Son Chaeyoung x M!Reader)

I swear I'm working on that F!Reader fic. This is smut ... Sorry? (Should I still bother apologizing or...) Word Count: 2,088

Sitting at the bar with my girlfriend Dahyun was something that always made me happy.

"Y/N you're so silly sometimes!"

Dahyun was drunk enough to the point that anything was funny to her. I should have cut her off sooner but seeing her like this was just so cute. "Come on Dahyun lets go home."

"I don't want to go yet Y/N-yah! Can I get another shot?" I giggled at her question. "Come on Dahyun I think you've had a bit too much to drink." I had to pick up Dahyun and carry her back to our apartment. She showed little protest by lightly hitting me on my chest.

"I don't want to leave yet Y/N!"

Having to put up with a drunk Dahyun's protest was something I got used to after a few nights out. Luckily her sleepiness eventually got the best of her and she was sleeping in my arms.

Arriving back at the hotel I went in the elevator to get to our apartment on the third floor. But before the door closed another woman entered the elevator with us.

She was a rather short woman. Her clothes didn't leave much to the imagination. She was showing a lot of ski-

"Are you going to press the button or should I?"

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts. Must've been staring for too long. "O-oh r-right you can press it first." She nodded at me and clicked on the button for the third floor. "What a coincidence we're on the same floor."

"Really? Well what are the chances of that? You know some people don't think things happen by "coincidence" do you?"

A rather odd question to ask but I guess I'll entertain her thought process. "Well I think some things are meant to happen but I don't think that everything that happens in our life is set by the universe or whatever."

"By the way who's that girl you're carrying."

"She's my girlfriend."

She hummed at my response and the elevator door opened. "Well if you'd like to discuss further you can come to my room at 308."

"Room 308? That's right next to my room 307!" Seriously? What are the chances my and this girl I just met are neighbors?

"Well who knows maybe it's a sign from the universe. By the way I never got your name."

"It's Y/N, and yours?"

"You can call me Chaeyoung. Anyways you better get going carrying your girlfriend must be tiring."

Once she said that she left for her room and I went into my apartment. When I got in I placed Dahyun on the couch and covered her up with a blanket.

I wasn't able to get Chaeyoung out of my mind. She was so attractive her tattoos, small figure, and those lips of hers were such a turn on. No wait what am I thinking?! Dahyun is my girlfriend I shouldn't be thinking of other women like this.

Feeling my cock get hard I went to the bathroom in order to relieve myself. Pulling down my pants and grabbing a hold of my cock I started to work on relieving myself. "Ugh ~ ah ~ Chaeyoung you're such a damn bad influence. You're making me have thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend because of you!"

Eventually I was able to cum and quickly started to work on cleaning up the mess I had just made.

-

I've been avoiding Chaeyoung for the past few days. Seeing her makes me think of inappropriate thoughts. I can't help but think how warm her pussy must feel. I bet she could suck my dick so well. Agh! Damn it why am I thinking of it again.

I suddenly bumped into someone.

"Shit sorry my bad I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Y/N is that you?"

Looking at the person I bumped into I realized it was Chaeyoung. Shit

"Oh sorry Chaeyoung I have to go-"

Suddenly she grabbed my arm and turned me around so I was facing her. My face was getting warmer and I can only hope she didn't notice.

"Hold on Y/N what's the rush? And why have you been ignoring me for the past few days?"

"Chaeyoung it's complicated."

"Want to talk about it?"

I shouldn't do it. Everything points to me not agreeing with her. I have a loving girlfriend already. No I can't say yes I can't!

But before I could even answer Chaeyoung started to drag me along with her. I wasn't able to get any words out so I just went along with her for the time.

Eventually we arrived at the front of her apartment. She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. Her room was mostly similar to the one me and Dahyun had except her room was a bit more bare than ours.

She dragged me to her couch and sat me down. Chaeyoung sat next to me and crossed her arms.

"Y/N I don't understand why you've been ignoring me. If you didn't like our first interaction and didn't want to talk to me that's one thing but I feel as if you're purposely going out of your way to ignore me!"

I looked at Chaeyoung in the eyes. Should I tell her? No that's stupid and would be pretty awkward. What would I even say "Yeah the reason I've been ignoring you is because I just get thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend with you."

"I just thought you were a little weird. I didn't want to associate myself with you." A bit rude but I needed Chaeyoung to also get away from me. If she also starts to distance herself from me it would make my life way easier.

"That's a bit rude Y/N. But thank you for telling me even if it does hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, sorry Chaeyoung."

I got up to leave her apartment as silence fell between us. But before I could go she suddenly spoke up.

"Wait before you leave do you at least want to have lunch with me?"

I guess I owe her one. I mean I did say something quite rude to her just now I could at least make up for it by staying over for lunch.

"Sure"

Chaeyoung nodded and got up to go to the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at her butt as she walked there.

"Do you have any preferences or allergies you want me to be aware of Y/N?"

"No, anything's fine."

She started to cook up something. I sat in silence as I watched her cook. While Chaeyoung was cooking she bent over making her shirt slide up.

I saw her exposed back which had a tattoo. Something about it was interesting to me.

"Why did you get that back tattoo Chaeyoung?"

"Found it interesting. Why, you want to get a closer look Y/N?" She gave me a certain look. If I didn't know any better I would say she's trying to tease me.

My face started to warm up. "Uhm ... kinda."

Chaeyoung started to walk up to me. Her hips swayed in a rhythm that kept me hooked.

She sat down on the couch with her back facing me. She took off her shirt exposing her bra. "Go on Y/N inspect the tattoo to your hearts content."

I felt my whole body get warm.

I put my finger on her back tattoo,I traced the outline. It was quite an interesting design. "What's it called?"

"The birth of evil. You know Y/N I have more tattoos but I'd have to strip for you to see them."

"Well what's stopping you?" I asked more as a joke.

"Absolutely nothing." Chaeyoung turned around facing me before she started stripping off her remaining pieces of clothing. Her body was more attractive than I originally thought. I couldn't focus on her tattoos and was only able to focus on her body.

"Y/N my tattoos aren't on my chest."

"I - uhm - agh." I tried coming up with an excuse but I wasn't able to think of one. My cock was starting to get hard and I tried to quickly hide it before Chaeyoung noticed.

Suddenly she put her hands over mine. "Mmm Y/N I heard you moaning my name the night we met. I'm telling you our meeting was fate."

Chaeyoung grabbed my hand covering my extremely hard cock and removed ir. She let out a coo "It's so big. I wonder how it'll look when it's free."

I started to panic as she started to pull my pants down. I shouldn't even be here when I have Dahyun. But a part of me wants this moment to never end.

My cock sprung out of its constraints and Chaeyoung licked her lips. "My my Y/N a bit eager to cheat on your girlfriend aren't you?" I wasn't able to form words because I knew she was right. I really wanted her.

"Go ahead and kiss me you little play boy."

I latched my lips onto Chaeyoung's perfect lips. They were so soft and perfect for me. Chaeyoung took my shirt off and moved her hands to my chest and pinched my nipples.

"Ouch Chaeng that hurt." I muffled into her lips. Though she didn't listen and only pinched harder.

She started to rub her hands all over my body. "Ah! Ah! Your hands are so perfect!"

I took my lips off of hers and started to move them down to her small breasts. They were a little bit bigger than Dahyun's but not by much. I put my tongue on her nipple and swirled it around and used my other hand to squeeze her other tit.

Chaeyoung moved her hands down to my cock and swirled her thumb on the tip. Some cum started to leak out and it helped her pick up the pace.

"Oh Chaeng your so damn good at this."

"Am I better than your girlfriend?"

Me and Dahyun have never had sex before and I didn't want to admit that I was still a virgin to her.

"Uhm - you're getting there."

Chaeyoung smiled at me "Judging by your long pause I'm guessing you're a virgin. Don't worry I'll be gentle."

She pushed me onto my back and put her mouth around my cock. "Mhm it tastes good. Virgins cocks always taste the best." I felt myself losing control over her words. She was slowly swirling her tongue on my tip and sucked really gently.

I used my hands to push her head down and Chaeyoung took my full length. "Yes just like that Chaeyoung." My cock hit the back of her throat and her muscles tightened around it.

Her saliva coated my whole cock. I started to push her head up and down on my cock roughly. Tears fell down Chaeyoung's eyes as she face fucked me.

Pulling her off my cock she started gasping for air. "Chaeyoung I want to feel your tight pussy on my cock."

"Y/N ... you're so horney! Is your girlfriend that pathetic?"

"Dahyun has never wanted to have sex with me."

"Poor baby Y/N. You deserve to release all of your cum." Chaeyoung got up and aligned her pussy to my cock. She lowered herself engulfing it all in her small tight pussy.

"You're so damn tight Chaeyoung!"

"Now Y/N let me show you what your girlfriend has been depriving you of." Chaeyoung started moving up and down. Her fluids were now all over my cock. I reached for her small and soft butt and started to give them a light squeeze.

Chaeyoung yelped at my sudden movement but went along with it. I started to squeeze harder leaving red marks on her butt. "I'm going to cum inside of you!"

"Yes Y/N fill me up with your thick semen!"

I spanked her ass hard and unloaded a long thick stream of cum inside of her. Chaeyoung's eyes started rolling back. "It's so warm Y/N!"

After 10 seconds the stream stopped and Chaeyoung collapsed on the couch. "Y/N do you believe me now? Our meeting was fate."

"I believe you Chaeng. But we have to keep this under wraps I don't want Dahyun to find out about us."

"Fine by me Y/N my lips are sealed. Just make sure to come visit me every now and then."

I collapsed on her and hugged her naked body and we both fell asleep.

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

I don't know if people prefer 1st or 3rd person writing so I'll just alternate between the both of them.

Anyways enjoy Chaeyoung, I'm facing delays so I don't think I'll have something up anytime soon but I'll try to finish the Thanksgiving smut on time.

[moonstruckme]

Oh! Oh! I’m not the anon who asked about Jily x reader but your response made something spark in my brain. So picture a super cosy, soft scene where one of them comes home from a long and draining day of work to one of their loves in the kitchen baking, and then the third comes home with dinner and it’s all just soft and domestic. My heart! I think I can see the Jily x reader appeal

Thank you for requesting lovely! I feel like I'm still getting my sea legs under me with them but so far I'm really enjoying writing for them :)

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The front door opens, and you say “Hi,” with a question in your voice, unsure who’s made it home first. 

The answer comes in the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out. Only one of your partners is given to actually sitting down to take their shoes off, rather than toeing them off and being shocked when the backs get scuffed. “Hi, love,” Lily replies. 

“Hi,” you say again, warmer now. “Hey, could you help me with something when you’re done?” 

“Yeah, with what?” 

“My hair won’t stop getting in my face.” You blow a strand away from your eye. It comes right back. “And my hands have dough on them.”

“Just a second.” You hear the chair being pushed back under your table, the quiet padding of socked feet as your girlfriend comes up behind you. As usual, she’s come prepared, a hair tie already on her wrist. Gentle fingers sweep strands away from your face and draw it all back into a loose ponytail. Lily presses a kiss to your nape once she’s done. 

“Thank you,” you say, and she hums, settling her arms around your waist. “How was your day?” 

Lily sighs and rests her chin on your shoulder. “Long.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, lovely. Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Just one thing after another, you know.” She toys with the loose knit of your sweater, sticking her finger through a hole. “I’m happy to be home.” 

The fondness that bleeds through you feels warm and sticky. “I’m happy you’re home, too,” you say with a smile.

You feel her lips curve in kind as she kisses your shoulder. “What’re you making?” 

“Cinnamon roll cookies. They’re more complicated than I thought, but I figure even if I mess them up they’ll at least smell nice when they’re baking.” 

“Good thinking. You won’t mess them up, though.” 

You both hear a key being fitted into the lock outside, and Lily calls out, “It’s open!”

“What?” The voice is muffled through the door. The key retracts, the handle twists. “Why is it open?” James asks as he comes inside. “I could be a murderer.” 

“Because I knew you’d be right on my tail,” says Lily, at the same time as you say, “What makes you think someone would want to murder us?” 

“Well, I’d rather you not find out,” James replies. He toes off his shoes and sets a large paper bag on the table. “Especially when I’m not home.” 

“Oh, because surely we need a man to protect us? We could do just as well in a fight whether you were here or not.” 

Looking at your tall, muscled boyfriend, you have to admit privately that this may be factually untrue. By the look Lily gives you as she goes to give him a kiss, she also disagrees with your argument even if she respects it. 

“Let’s just keep the door locked and that way none of us ever have to fight,” James says as she steps into his arms. He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Lily pecks him on the lips. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Dinner. I know I was meant to cook tonight, but I decided on the way home to pick up instead.” 

“Oh no,” you say mournfully. “Did you have a bad day, too?” 

“No.” James looks at you, confused. “Who had a bad day?” 

“Lily did.” 

“It wasn’t bad, it was just draining,” your girlfriend qualifies, though this doesn’t stop James from cooing and folding her into a hug. “I’m really fine.” Her voice is muffled against his chest. 

“I must’ve had a sixth sense, then.” James kisses her hair. “I got your favorite.” 

“No, did you really?” You can hear Lily perk up. She doesn’t completely remove herself from his embrace but frees one arm and cranes her neck to look inside the bag. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t thank me, thank my telepathy,” he says, letting her go so she can start grabbing forks and napkins for you all to eat with. 

James makes his way over to you, leaning against the counter so he can see your face while you work. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair fluffy like he’s been running his fingers through it or he rolled down the window on the drive home.

“And how was your day?” he asks you. 

“My day was good.” You grin at him. He returns it with twice the enthusiasm. “I finished my book, and I found this recipe for cinnamon roll cookies.” 

James’ gaze doesn’t dip to where you’re folding the cinnamon mixture into your dough. He nods as he keeps looking at your face, eyes warm. He’s still smiling. 

“What?” 

“Did you know you have a little bit of flour on your cheek?” 

“Oh, why’d you ruin it?” Lily asks, bustling through the kitchen to get you water for dinner. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” 

“What?” You look over your shoulder in betrayal. “Is it a lot? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Lily turns off the tap, giving you a sheepish smile and a lift of her shoulders as she passes by you again. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s very cute,” James agrees. “Want me to get it for you?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. “Please.” 

James uses his thumb to brush off your cheek, holding your face in his hand while he does. His smile is still firmly in place, soft around the edges with a sweet fondness. He keeps rubbing until you’re sure the flour has to be long gone, until warmth kisses your cheeks and it’s just touching.

“Love you,” you say softly. 

James’ cheeks dimple. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Will you turn the tap on for me?” 

He does, and you wash your hands in the sink, leaving the rest of the baking for after dinner. 

“Oh, good.” Lily comes back into the kitchen. “Are you ready to eat? I’m worried it’s going to get cold.” 

“We’re ready,” James answers for you. “Just washing up.” 

“Jamie.” Lily smiles at you as you step away from the sink to let him have his turn. “You didn’t get it all.” 

“I got distracted,” says James. “Anyway, I thought you liked it there.” 

She beckons you closer. “I do, but if you’re going to get it, you may as well finish the job.” She brushes a fingertip over your cheek, pretty eyes crinkling. “There. Perfect.” 

“She’s always perfect.” James dries his hands on a towel. He kisses you when you smile bashfully. 

“The food’s getting cold,” you remind them. 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cradle Song.

Spencer Reid x Pregnant!reader

Summary: The situation is complicated when Spencer is trapped in a lab with anthrax and worried about communicating with you and his future child one last time.

Words: 2,4k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of death, therapy. spoilers for s4 e24 ("amplification"). anthrax. established relationship. angst with a open ending. implication that the baby is a girl. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I wrote this after posting my first two one shots here (several months ago), and now I just found the uncorrected text and decided to improve it for posting lol for you to mentally decide if it's a happy or sad ending, because I could never write one that I really liked.

Your phone rang somewhere in the room, but you had no idea where. In the distance, you could hear the classical symphony by Johannes Brahms that your boyfriend had chosen especially for you, with the excuse that it would calm you and the baby every time it played.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn't helping to calm you down.

After tossing and turning around the room several times, you sat up in bed, completely exhausted and hopeless. That's when you felt the noise nearby and realized that the phone under your pillow was vibrating nonstop. You were about to snort with stress from being so distracted lately, but an automatic smile appeared on your face when you saw that it was a call from Spencer. You hadn't heard from him in several hours, the last being his usual call to wish you a good morning every time he was away on a case.

“I think I'd lose my head if I didn't have it attached to my neck.” Was the first thing you said as you tried to tuck your pillow behind your neck to make yourself more comfortable.

“You've lost your phone again.” You heard him let out a small, weak laugh, followed by a cough that caught your attention and made you frown. “Sorry, I got stuck.” He quickly excused himself.

“Are you okay?”

In response to your question, he looked around the lab where he was confined, focusing on the broken vial of anthrax on the floor that had caused all his problems so far. Reid didn't know how to explain that an ordinary case had turned into a national problem that was taking over his life and future moments with you with every passing second.

And he certainly knew even less how to tell you that this would probably be the last time you would hear from him if the team didn't find a cure soon.

“I'm fine.” He lied immediately, feeling his breathing getting harder and harder. “Really, love.” He tried to reassure you, but he lost his balance and leaned heavily on the counter, his free hand gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

All you had to do was hear him call you that and your whole world would light up, you could even feel the baby in your belly kicking at the sound of his voice. You smiled as you realized that you were both happy to hear from Spencer after not seeing him for most of the day due to the demands of his job.

Although you've never said it out loud for fear of making him feel guilty, you miss him excessively, and you're always trying to multitask and be productive, so you don't think as much about how much you need him by your side. Especially when dinner time comes and his seat next to you is empty, or when night comes and his side of the bed is cold.

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but you seemed to have a stronger need for him than ever.

“And how did you feel today? How are my girls? Did she kick a lot today?” The usual questions he asked you every time he was on a long case began to appear. “I need to hear everything.”

“She just kicks a lot when she listens to you and you know it.” You replied, stroking your belly out of laziness. “She’s definitely a daddy's little princess.”

The lump in his throat and all of his fears became more intense and uncontrollable. The tears he had tried to keep from escaping to stay strong and focused began to flow unchecked down his cheeks. Hearing you talk like that, knowing it might be the last time, was killing him much faster than the anthrax itself.

“And what are you doing? All your agent stuff?” You spoke again at his silence, trying to ignore the bad feeling something was giving you. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I don't think that's possible, love.” He replied quickly, his voice hoarse and raspy, the lie slipping from his lips almost too easily. “I'm doing some paperwork, it'll take some time.”

It was the second time he had called you by that nickname in just a few minutes. Something seemed a little off, as he only used it when he wanted to calm you down. You knew him too well to miss it.

“Oh, okay.” You said it in a way that showed you were a little disappointed.

Spencer was about to try to comfort you when he suddenly felt the cough return to his throat and he put a hand over his mouth to stop it. It was no use, the cough shook his whole body, spinning him around and making him pant in between. He tried to cover the phone with his hand so that the sounds coming out of his mouth would not be heard, but it was useless. The hacking cough seemed to tear at his lungs, leaving him breathless, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and he could only hope you didn't hear it, because the last thing he wanted to do was worry you. He knew it would hurt you and the baby.

“Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should drink some water. It sounds pretty bad.”

He tried to answer you right away, but the cough took over and prevented him from speaking. He gripped the phone tightly, struggling to breathe, trying to force his lungs to stop spasming. And when he finally stopped coughing, he managed to speak, his voice cracking and rather hoarse.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's probably just a cold.” He lied again, breathing shakily. “But it’s nothing so bad.”

“Take care of yourself, don't let it get worse.”

If only you knew that there was no way to make it worse, that it was already at its worst point and unlikely to improve.

“I will, don't worry.” He tries to sound convincing, but his voice comes out rough and raw, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coughing again. “Just focus on you and the baby, okay? I'll be fine.”

He spoke again so quickly that it was difficult to think of an appropriate response.

“Could you do something for me, love?”

“Of course, I'll do whatever you need.” You reply, feeling a little perplexed by the urgency in his voice.

There was a long, awkward silence after you answered, and you could feel your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. You had a feeling that Spencer was holding something back from you, and the thought of what it could be made your left leg start to twitch nervously. You didn't even bother trying to make yourself more comfortable in bed.

“Go to my part of the closet, to the top drawer. Open it and take out a box next to the socks.” Finally he spoke and began to give you instructions, which you followed as best you could. “Let me know when you have it, carefully. Don't rush or-”

“I've already got it.” You interjected.

“That was quick.” You heard the surprise in his voice as you looked at the box, curious to know what was inside, after having seen it several times and thinking it was just more socks.

You smiled before speaking again. “What should I do with this, love?”

The mere word coming out of your mouth made him tremble.

Love. Love. Love.

He was your love and you were his. He refused to accept that this would be completely shattered in a matter of minutes if he could not find a way to keep his eyes open and his heart still pumping blood.

“I need you to open it, but be careful. Take your time and don't rush. Don't make any sudden movements.” He said, trying to relax so that when he spoke again his voice would be calmer, softer. “And once you open it, I want you to imagine that I'm there with you, okay?”

You couldn't help but open the box quickly, even though you were careful. You were surprised to find a bunch of envelopes and papers inside. You left them on the bed, wondering what they were about. It had been five months since you knew you were pregnant, and all the envelopes and papers were the same age according to the dates in the top corner.

“Have you seen it yet?” Spencer asked.

“I'm sorry, I don't understand, could you explain what this is?” You asked, carefully running your hand through the neatly organized papers on the bed.

“Could you close your eyes and imagine I'm with you, like I told you before?” He asked, trying to keep a neutral tone as you complied with his request.

He needed you to see him there with you, he needed to say goodbye and at least touch you one last time.

“That's what I'm doing. I'm holding your hand right now.” You said with a small smile, feeling the warmth.

It was like feeling an automatic medicine with your name on it flow through his system and relieve a few aches and pains. His hands stopped shaking automatically as he imagined himself holding yours again.

“Okay…they are notes and letters.” His voice was soft, the intensity of his heartbeat gradually increasing as he remembered each time he wrote those words to you. “I started writing them when we found out you were pregnant. They're for our baby.”

He still remembered the day he found out you were expecting a baby, his baby. He recalled how he felt his whole world stop and turn a different color, his hand sliding down to your stomach, and his breath hitching in his chest as he held your face in his hands and kissed you lovingly, overwhelmed with joy and so in love that he hadn't known what to do with his own feelings.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I...I found myself writing frequently and my therapist said it was fine…I was inspired to write about my feelings for you and our baby."

From the moment he revealed to you that he had resumed therapy with the goal of healing the wounds of childhood and becoming the father he never had, it was clear that his dedication surpassed any commitment. Now you just added to the list of reasons why he was already an exemplary father, one that any child would be lucky to have.

“Spencer, this is so sweet.” You said, completely moved and on the verge of tears, as you noticed all the dedication I had put into each and every piece of paper. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

He felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him at that moment. It was so hard to explain, to tell you that every thought and every dream he'd ever had included you and the baby now growing in your belly, and his great fear of not being able to be there for you someday.

“I-” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I just wanted you to know now how much you mean to me and how blessed I am that you gave this to me. I've spent the last few months trying to even talk to some kind of God, and I don't even know if exist...” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, the words lost somewhere in his throat, making it burn and hurt. “I just...I need the baby to know what you and her mean to me, how I see you, how I feel when I wake up next to you. What I want, what I dream for her, what...”

I want to marry you.

The thought almost escaped his lips, his aching heart pounding hard against his aching chest. He felt as if a pair of strong hands were strangling him.

“I don't understand...Tell me what's going on.” You interrupted him with a shaking voice, knowing that there was definitely something more to all of this.

Oh, how you know him and his big, messy, troubled brain.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, though you couldn't see it, knowing that you already read him like an open book.

“Nothing...Nothing's wrong, love, just...” He tried to breathe deeply through the phone, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind racing too fast. “I love you so much. Don't forget that, okay?”

“Spencer—”

He always loved your voice calling his name, and now, in his weak, tired, fearful state, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I want you to know that you'll be okay, that she'll be okay, that everything will be okay, and that I love you. I love you both very much. Please, please...” He kept going. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. His mind was racing, and his words came out like a confession.

He was an expert profiler, a genius with an eidetic memory and a sharp mind, but at that moment, with his body weakened and his head spinning, he found himself unable to contain himself. He was exposed, open, and experiencing discomfort. All of the things he wanted to tell you, all of the questions he wanted to ask, and all of the concerns, worries, and thoughts in his mind came pouring out, like a dam breaking. He sensed that you could feel it through the line, and he realized that he could no longer deny it any longer.

“I love you. I have to go now.”

“Wait.”

You had a feeling something wasn't quite right, and those letters seemed to confirm your suspicions. They were a precautionary measure, a way of ensuring that everything would be taken care of in case something happened to him.

“I have to go, I'm...I'm busy, love.” He tried to sound convincing, and he knew he was failing miserably, but if he stayed a moment longer, he would continue to talk and confess more. “I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

If he wasn't already weak and trembling, hearing your voice telling him that you loved him, in that soft tone, would have made him fall to the floor again. He closed his eyes again and leaned against the wall, his own trembling hand going to cover his mouth so he wouldn't say more, because he would tell you everything if you kept talking in that sweet tone.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

So it was that he thought of you and your kind way of loving him before he felt his head hit the floor and his eyes close.

[bodybaggage]

Phantom in the League pt.2

The Reality of Phantom

---

The atmosphere in the Watchtower had become decidedly less tense after Danny’s revelation. The League was still processing the idea of one of their own being the ruler of an entire interdimensional ghostly kingdom, but they were professionals. They’d seen stranger things.

Well, most of them had. Flash was still stuck on something that Danny had casually dropped during the initial conversation. The speedster tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the right moment to bring it up.

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Flash finally blurted out, snapping his fingers as the thought clicked into place. “You said your name is Danny Fenton, right?”

Danny, who had been silently dreading this part of the conversation, nodded hesitantly. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“And you’re a teenager?” Flash asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he zipped over to scrutinize Danny’s face up close.

“Last time I checked, yeah,” Danny replied, leaning back slightly from Flash’s sudden invasion of personal space.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. So you’re telling me you’re not some ancient ghost who’s been around for centuries, pulling strings from behind the scenes?” Flash’s eyes were wide with shock. “You’re just… a kid?”

“Hey!” Danny protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not just a kid. I’ve been through a lot, okay?”

Wonder Woman stepped in, placing a calming hand on Flash’s shoulder. “Barry, remember what we discussed about making assumptions?”

Flash blinked and gave her a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry. It’s just… wow. You’re younger than some of the villains we’ve fought.”

Green Lantern rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing at Batman, who remained as stoic as ever. “Uh, so… not to be insensitive or anything, but you’re, uh, you’re dead, right? Like… you’re a ghost?”

Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah. Half-ghost, technically. But, yeah. I died… sort of.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of Danny’s words settling over them. It wasn’t something the League was accustomed to dealing with—death was part of their lives, yes, but having a teammate who had already crossed that threshold was… different.

Superman, ever the symbol of hope, stepped forward, his voice gentle. “Danny, we won’t ask how it happened. It’s not our place, and we respect your privacy. But if you ever need to talk about it, we’re here for you.”

Danny offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Supes. It’s, uh, a bit of a sensitive subject. But I appreciate it.”

Batman, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke up. “If you’re the King of the Infinite Realms, that means you’re responsible for a vast number of spirits and entities. Your age doesn’t change the fact that you’re capable of handling this responsibility. We trust your judgment.”

“Plus,” Flash added with a grin, “you’ve got us to back you up. We’ll make sure you don’t get overwhelmed with all that kingly stuff.”

Danny chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease. “Thanks, guys. It’s nice to know I’ve got some backup, especially when things get… complicated.”

There was a brief pause before Green Lantern asked the question everyone had been thinking but was too polite to voice. “So… do you, like, age? Or are you stuck as a teenager forever?”

Danny shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Clockwork—you know, the Master of Time—he’s my mentor, and he’s hinted that I might age slower now, but he’s never been clear on the details.”

Batman nodded, his mind already analyzing the implications. “You’re in a unique situation. If your aging process is altered, it could affect how we approach future missions and strategies involving you.”

“Yeah,” Flash chimed in, grinning. “But, hey, look on the bright side! You get to be the youngest member of the League indefinitely! Think of all the birthday parties we can throw.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head. “As long as you don’t make a big deal out of it, I’m good with that. And for the record, I don’t really do birthdays. Kind of lost the appeal after, well, you know… dying.”

The room fell into a brief, awkward silence before Flash cleared his throat. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“It’s fine,” Danny reassured him with a smile. “I’m just still getting used to all this myself.”

Superman nodded. “We’ll respect your boundaries, Danny. You’ve already proven yourself to us time and time again. Your age doesn’t change that.”

“Agreed,” Wonder Woman added. “You are more than capable, Danny, and your youth is not a weakness. If anything, it speaks to your strength and resilience.”

Danny felt a warm surge of gratitude toward his teammates. He had been worried about how they’d react to the truth, but they had accepted him without hesitation. “Thanks, everyone. I guess I’ve been carrying this around for a while, and it feels good to finally let you all in on it.”

Batman’s voice, as calm and commanding as ever, broke the brief silence. “We’ll need to adjust some of our protocols now that we know the full extent of your abilities and responsibilities. But for now, we have more pressing matters to attend to. The dimensional rifts.”

“Right,” Danny agreed, snapping back to business mode. “I think I can close them, but I’ll need to figure out what’s causing them first. It could be something from the Realms leaking into your world.”

“Then we’ll start by monitoring the rifts and gathering as much data as possible,” Batman stated, already strategizing. “And Danny, if you need to access any resources from the Watchtower to help with your investigation, you have full clearance.”

Danny grinned, feeling more confident than he had in a long time. “Thanks, Bats. I’ll take you up on that.”

As they all prepared to leave the briefing room, Flash lingered for a moment, leaning in close to Danny with a conspiratorial grin. “So… do you have ghostly powers that let you pull pranks? Because I’ve got some ideas.”

Danny’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, you have no idea, Barry. Just wait until you see what I can do.”

With that, the two exchanged a knowing look, and Danny couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The truth was out, and despite the initial awkwardness, the League had accepted him for who he was—both as Danny and as Phantom.

And with that acceptance came a new sense of belonging, one that made the title of King of the Infinite Realms feel just a little bit lighter.

pt. 1

---

don’t mind me, im just mass posting my drafts rn👩‍🦯

[sansaorgana]

— SISTER'S CHOICE

BROKEN OATH (AU)

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Princess Elaena Targaryen (OC)

SUMMARY — You manage to escape Oldtown after fifteen years of marriage to Ser Gwayne Hightower in order to join your sister Rhaenyra in the upcoming war. Despite the oath given to Rhaenyra, you struggle to be away from your husband and children. Things complicate when you meet Gwayne in the battlefield.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written from the Reader’s perspective but she is a Targaryen and Rhaenyra's younger sister. I did not describe any of her body or face features except for that she has silver hair, lilac eyes and her name is Elaena. The story is quite long already so I haven't described the beginnings of Reader/Elaena with Gwayne or her childhood – you can find them in the "Broken Oath" fanfic (link above), which is an AU of this one (or this one is an AU of "Broken Oath" 🙈). Canon events are treated very loosely here for the purpose of the plot (Rook's Rest for example).

WARNINGS — Reader/Elaena is responsible for the deaths in the battlefield & if you're Team Black you might be unhappy about the ending (+ I don't like Daemon and it shows, sorry)

WORD COUNT — 9,930 (💀)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SISTER'S CHOICE

It was quite a long trip from Oldtown to Dragonstone but you hadn’t made any stops and now both you and your dragon were exhausted. The sun was slowly rising when you arrived but you had a weird feeling deep in your guts – some sort of anxiety – before seeing your sister after fifteen years. How would you even greet her now? What would you say? That fear alone was stopping you from landing.

Eventually, you spotted a few people looking out for you from the castle. They had to be wondering what were you doing, circling around Dragonstone without clear intentions. After spotting your sister’s long silver hair in the wind, you decided to order Onyx to land on the sandy beach and you waited for someone to come out and greet you.

Sighing, you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. It felt so odd to be out of Oldtown – you hadn’t left it in fifteen years. Not even once. You had grown so used to it that you nearly missed it now. You certainly missed your children. They had to slowly wake up now and you wondered what your husband would tell them about your sudden absence.

Would they understand? Would they grow up to hate you? They were only children, you couldn’t expect them to comprehend the complicated situation of the upcoming war, the delicacy of your family’s relations. And what kind of mother abandoned her children like that? Perhaps it was true what they were saying about The Targaryens – just like dragons they rode, they were difficult to tame. Even an obedient and dutiful Princess like you still had fire and blood running through her veins.

Finally, you spotted your sister and a few of her guards walking towards you. You took off the hood of your cloak and petted nervous Onyx to calm her down. 

“Sister,” Rhaenyra greeted you and you hurried to her side, leaving your dragon behind you. You gave her an anxious smile as your eyes scanned hers carefully.

She had grown older those past fifteen years but you couldn’t help a feeling that she had grown sadder, too. Either way, she was still your sister but also your Queen now.

“You came, Elaena,” Rhaenyra smiled at you nervously.

“My Queen,” you bowed down and the hood of your cloak fell onto your head again. Rhaenyra chuckled at that and approached you to fix it.

“It is green,” she pointed out while caressing the fabric of your cloak when you two were face-to-face now. Then, her fingers moved down to the golden clasp, which was The Hightower emblem.

“Forgive me,” you unclasped the cloak and let it fall down on the sand. “I am here now, by my sister’s side,” you told her.

“Come, we’ll make space for Onyx in the dragonpit,” Rhaenyra smiled at your dragon and tilted her head a little. “She’s as big as Caraxes now, do you know?”

You were surprised. You had no idea that your young and small dragon had grown so big. It was also unexpected that it had happened in Oldtown where Onyx had been alone and you had not been flying on her often either. She had been spoiled with sheep and your affection but that would be it, really. Other than that, she had been pretty bored there.

“I am glad,” you smiled at your sister. You wanted to take her by her arm but something was stopping you – some invisible barrier between you two and it was not because she was The Queen, no. 

She had always been your father’s heir to you anyway. You had gotten used to the fact that Rhaenyra was your superior. The barrier was caused by the fifteen years apart. Despite knowing it was your sister, despite sharing the same blood, the same silver hair, the same lilac eyes – it was a stranger walking down the beach with you.

“Why did you come?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely. The guards left you behind and watched Onyx fly up again to rest in the dragonpit after the long journey.

“You need dragons and dragonriders in the upcoming war with Aegon,” you answered, a little surprised as if you couldn’t understand why she had even asked that. It was obvious, after all.

“You loved him when he was a babe, did you not?” Rhaenyra smiled gently.

“I love him still, just like I love you – and to you I have sworn my loyalty,” you answered.

“Haven’t you sworn it to your husband, too, on your wedding day?” She kept inquiring and you grew uncomfortable with that. You didn’t want her to mention Gwayne because you were trying your hardest not to think of him.

“Are you suspecting I might be my father-in-law’s spy?” You suddenly turned your head around to look deep into her eyes. “If so, you hurt me deeply.”

“I would never suspect that!” Rhaenyra gasped and held your wrist to squeeze it assuringly. “You have been telling me in your letters that your marriage is a good one, that you love your children dearly. And now you are here, with me,” she pointed out.

“The war is coming,” you only shook your head.

Hadn’t she been expecting you to come and join her? In her letter, you had read that between the lines and now she was shocked to see you? When she had been asking for your loyalty and for remembering your oath… What had she been exactly expecting?

However, you had no opportunity to continue this conversation because you reached the castle and your uncle Daemon was waiting there with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

At first, your heart swelled in your chest at the sight of him. You wanted to run up to him and greet him like back in the old days when you had been a young girl and he would bounce you on his knee. But you froze at the sight of him eyeing you up and down as if you were an intruder.

“What does she want?” He asked Rhaenyra and you swallowed thickly at that tone of his voice.

“She is my sister, Daemon. She came to support me,” Rhaenyra explained.

“And you believe her?” Daemon whispered but you could hear him perfectly well.

“I can hear you, Uncle,” you nodded at him and he shot you a cold glance.

“That is King Consort to you. We don’t trust Hightower cunts here,” he drawled out.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra scolded him and you were standing there, petrified.

You were not used to being treated this way. In Oldtown you were a Lady of the town – every man was bowing his head at you, they were showing you nothing but respect and your own Lord Husband would challenge Daemon this very moment if he had heard or seen the way you were treated.

But your Lord Husband was not here because you had abandoned him to join your sister. Your sister – not Daemon. So, you held your head high and clenched your jaw at him.

“I am Princess Elaena Targaryen,” you introduced yourself to him in case he had somehow forgotten. “Lady Hightower, to you, dear Uncle. Lady of Oldtown,” you added even though the last title was not technically yours yet as long as your father-in-law was alive but you had been ruling the city in his name alongside your husband for fifteen years now and everyone called you that.

Daemon, however, found your titles somehow funny. He chuckled at you.

“Onyx has grown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra informed him. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that made shivers go down your spine. Something deeply disturbing was going on between them and you had a feeling her marriage was not as wonderful as she had been describing it to you in her letters. “She’s as big as Caraxes now,” she added.

“But not as experienced,” Daemon dismissed that and laid his eyes on you again. He squinted them and looked you up and down before speaking to you again eventually. “Well, come in, Elaena. We are not in a position to refuse any dragonriders,” he said and turned around to walk away.

You looked at Rhaenyra, questioningly.

“Forgive him, he is nervous about the war and we have also lost our child recently… Our baby girl was born dead,” she sighed and caressed your arm.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” you whispered and gave her a hug. “Still, that gives him no right to speak to you in such a manner. You are his Queen, but, most importantly, his Lady Wife,” you explained. “Such manners are shocking to me.”

“It makes me glad,” Rhaenyra answered mysteriously and you furrowed your brow, “for it means that you had never experienced such treatment from your husband.”

You were given your own chambers in the part of the castle reserved for the royal family and you knew that it was the highest standard for Dragonstone but you missed your chambers in Oldtown dearly. The comfort was incomparable… The Hightower was cosier and warmer – it was full of wood and colours instead of the cold, grey stone. The Reach was warmer overall and the sound of the waves was soothing there, meanwhile in Dragonstone the stormy weather was keeping you up all night.

Not just the sound of the raging sea but also thoughts of your family. Each evening you were crying yourself to sleep, imagining the bedtime of your children, remembering all the rituals Gwayne was doing before going to sleep and you missed them dearly. You especially missed laying in your bed together and discussing your day – trying to work out some problems around Oldtown or with your children… Sometimes gossipping together. And now, you were squeezing your pillow tight and trying to communicate with your husband telepathically. Yet, you still had no idea what you would tell him if it was possible.

He hadn’t written you any letter and you couldn’t blame him since you left Oldtown without even a note on his desk. Yet, each time there were new letters coming to Dragonstone, you were expecting to see the familiar green envelope and your husband’s handwriting; begging you to come back. Gwayne, however, had his pride and you couldn’t be sad or angry about it now because you had always admired him for it.

Seeing Rhaenyra’s relationship with Daemon was only making you miss Gwayne more. He was a Lord Husband that so many women could only dream of – even The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, apparently.

Daemon was not the only person treating you with a hint of mistrust. Your aunt Princess Rhaenys was by your side but even young Jacaerys was staring at you without a word most of the time even though you had been playing with him and bouncing him on your knee when he had been a babe.

It was not easy to get used to all of this – the coldness and emptiness of your chambers, the treatment of others. From the beloved Lady of Oldtown to a mistrusted Princess, a prodigal sister.

Your loyalty and surname that had been given to you through marriage was being brought up regularly, mostly by Daemon – especially during dinnertime or supper.

“It was not my choice to marry a Hightower and even if it was… I married Gwayne fifteen years ago. No one could have suspected this war…” You rolled your eyes at one more remark by the dinner table.

“Don’t be naive, Elaena!” Daemon snapped. “Everyone has suspected. That was the very reason why Otto Hightower sent you to his son in Oldtown.”

You didn’t answer and you felt the eyes of everyone staring at you and expecting some sort of remark. Daemon smirked at your silence, feeling like the winner.

“I am not used to being yelled at and treated in such a way. And I am certainly not used to dinnertime being a battle between the family members,” you stated calmly.

“Go back to Oldtown then,” Daemon scoffed. “If you find it so insufferable here, then go back to your husband. Do you think he is going to greet you with open arms after such betrayal?” He laughed and shook his head while taking a sip of the wine. “He is going to greet you with his sword instead, Princess,” he mocked your title and you swallowed your food thickly, feeling your stomach turning upside down.

Daemon had only voiced out the anxiety that you had been having for some time now – that Gwayne did not miss you at all. That he did not feel nothing but anger at you and that he would kill you at the very first opportunity. After all, you had hurt his pride and you had stained his honour and these things mattered to him more than anything else – except for your children, of course.

Your marriage had been good but it didn’t change the fact it was an arranged union and not a love match. Sometimes, though… Sometimes, laying in your bed, here, in Dragonstone, tossing and turning, you were quite sure that you had grown to love him, which was quite ironic to have such thoughts now when you had already ruined everything between you two. But you were sure he was not having the same thoughts about you anyway. 

“My sister is more than welcome here,” Rhaenyra gave her husband a scolding look and squeezed your hand. You smiled at her, gratefully.

But the thing with Rhaenyra was that despite being The Queen, no one really seemed to care about it. No one except for you, Rhaenys and Daemon’s daughters. All the men, though, were still doing everything their own way. And Rhaenyra herself could not find any solution to deal with that, which made you wonder if she would really be a good Queen…

Not that you had ever voiced that out for it would be treason. You loved your sister and you were obliged to serve her because of the oath you had sworn. But still, you sometimes couldn’t help feeling that she was not a strong leader. On the other hand, it was not that surprising because she had no real experience in such matters and when things had gotten difficult in King’s Landing, she had fled to Dragonstone instead of staying in The Red Keep and learning how to be a good ruler.

The death of Lucerys had shaken everyone. The very first victim of the conflict being such a young and innocent boy… You were speechless and you had no words of comfort to offer. You were a mother, too, and you just couldn’t imagine what Rhaenyra had to feel.

You locked yourself in your chambers instead and spent your whole day staring at the small portrait you had taken with yourself from Oldtown. It was a portrait in the size of a locket and it was of your own four children – twelve years old Steffon Hightower with silver hair and lilac eyes standing next to his nine years old brother Loras Hightower who was a copy of his father with his auburn hair and blue eyes. The girls were sitting on the carpet – six years old Lysa Hightower with her father’s auburn hair and your lilac eyes and three years old Roslin Hightower with silver hair and blue eyes. You felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks and all you really wanted was to hold them and make sure they were alright.

Sometimes you regretted your decision to flee from Oldtown. Perhaps you should have been an obedient and loyal wife like your mother had always been teaching you to be. It would save you lots of trouble.

Fifteen years earlier, before your departure to marry Gwayne, Rhaenyra had confessed to you that she had wished to be more like you – less rebellious, less stubborn. Meanwhile, you had always wished to be more like her and now you kind of were but you finally understood the price for it, too.

It was Princess Rhaenys that came to your chambers on that day. She sighed at the sight of you and approached you with a soft smile. She took the small portrait from your hands and took a look at the faces of your children.

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“Very,” you sniffled your tears back. “I sleep with it under my pillow every night. And by day, I have them close to my heart,” you confessed.

“They’re very beautiful children,” Rhaenys sat next to you on the edge of your bed and handed you the portrait back. “What are they like?”

You knew she was trying to help you. She wanted you to talk about your children and let out all the tears that no one else in the castle would want to see now. Not even Rhaenyra because she was grieving her own loss. Meanwhile, your children were safe and sound in Oldtown but your heart was in grief anyway. You were grateful that your aunt wanted to hear about them because you felt like it was expected from you to not express any feelings towards The Hightowers, Oldtown, your husband or your offspring at all. Each display of affection or a hint of the fact that you were missing them was perceived as an act of treason.

You had sacrificed so much for them but no one seemed to understand the significance of it. No one except for Rhaenys and Rhaenyra but they were only two and against many.

“You would like Steffon the most, I think,” you caressed his little face on your portrait. “A true Targaryen, look at him. And he is so…” you chuckled through the tears. “So brave and bold. He’s going to be a knight like his father and, somehow, I have a feeling he’s going to be a dragonrider, too. I don’t know how but he’s determined enough to claim one,” you assured her. “And then there’s Loras…” Your fingers moved to your second son. “He inherited all the kindness and goodness and gentleness from Gwayne. From me, too, I assume. There is not a mean bone in his body. And my girls…” You moved your hand down and sighed. “That is Lysa, the one with auburn hair. And the little one with silver hair is Roslin. They… They were spending their whole days following me around and clinging to my skirts… I have no idea how they are managing now…” You sobbed and hid your face in your hands.

Rhaenys put her arm around you and pulled you closer as she rubbed your back to soothe you. She leaned in to kiss your temple.

“Their mother is strong and brave. She is righteous,” she whispered. “One day, they will understand it and forgive you. You had this calling in you, the calling to join your sister for you are a Targaryen, you are a dragonrider. We are never only mothers and wives and proper ladies. We are wild creatures, Elaena. Just like our dragons,” she lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“I thought of taking them with me but… But they’re safer in Oldtown, far away from here. And Gwayne… Well, he would hunt me down and kill me for that, I am sure. He is a devoted father,” you tried to explain yourself but no matter how much you were doing so, you still felt like a terrible mother.

“You were right to leave them with him then,” Rhaenys caressed your arms. “Your husband will protect them and of that you are sure, I can see. They are safe there.”

“When this war ends, when we win…” Your lower lip trembled. “I will be allowed to reunite with my family, right? Rhaenyra will allow me?” You asked, a little unsurely.

“I am rather convinced that after we win this war, you are going to remain the Lady of Oldtown,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to raise your children there and watch them grow happily.”

“And… And my Lord Husband?” You sniffled, while Rhaenys tilted her head. “I mean… He has to die, right?”

“I highly doubt Daemon would allow it any other way,” Rhaenys told you.

“Whatever he might be saying, he is not The King,” you reminded her.

“That decision will not be Rhaenyra’s to make. Daemon and Gwayne will most likely meet on the battlefield sooner or later,” your aunt reminded you and fixed your hair delicately. “You must think of your husband as dead from now on if you want to survive this,” she added and stood up to leave your chambers.

You knew that she had meant that with the best intentions but it only made you sob even more. You took another look at the portrait of your children and your heart squeezed in your chest. What was giving you a guarantee that Daemon would not hurt your babies, too? He seemed to be filled with an ugly desire to wipe all Hightowers out from this world.

Weeks had passed and you had grown colder and sharper lately. Daemon was not around any longer for he had left for Harrenhal, which was helpful, but if he was still in Dragonstone, you would surely be ready to confront him each time now. You were confronting everyone else whenever they doubted you and on multiple occasions you had confronted them to defend your sister, too.

You still missed your family but all those lonely nights had made you turn pretty heartless sometimes. All those suppressed feelings and regrets had made you a woman who was holding her head high and who was more and more sure of her skills. You were flying Onyx every day now to strengthen your bond even more and it was giving you lots of confidence.

Despite the fondness you still felt towards your marriage, you knew aunt Rhaenys had been right and the marriage was over now. You also realised how much you had missed out in those past fifteen years. You had been living more like a Hightower than a Targaryen. Your husband was a good and kind man but still – he had been trying to tame the dragon blood inside of you. You had not been riding Onyx enough and your High Valyrian had become rusty. Now you were finding your old self back again and all the pain you were feeling because of missing your children only fueled you to be even colder and sharper towards all of those who were doubting you.

When you entered the hall where the council was gathered, everyone nodded their heads at you and you didn’t even bother to nod back. As the Lady of Oldtown you had been respected but you had always been kind in return, too. In Dragonstone everything seemed to be turned upside down.

But why would Princess Elaena Targaryen bow down to any of these men inside the castle that had belonged to her ancestors for centuries now? It was your home – perhaps not in the same domesticated way as The Hightower but Dragonstone was your blood’s home and you would not bow down to anyone inside of it except for the monarch.

The only person you bowed at was of course Rhaenyra herself – your Queen, your sister. Not a perfect Queen and only slightly better sister but you had sworn to her and you valued honour just like your Lord Husband did.

“The battle is coming,” she explained to you as she pointed at the table with the map of Westeros because you were late to the gathering after flying on Onyx for a little too long this evening. “Tomorrow, the armies will clash around Rook’s Rest,” she added and pointed at the place.

“That is close,” you tilted your head. “But the castle has no significance to us, does it?”

“We have already lost enough and we cannot lose more!” one of the Lords protested. “It’s about our honour, my Princess.”

“I want to send a dragon,” Rhaenyra moved one of the stone dragons on the map to put it alongside the Black Army. “I do not intend to use it in battle. No burning, no crushing. I do not wish to be remembered as the first side of this conflict who used a dragon to kill her enemies because once we use them as weapons, the destruction from both sides will be unstoppable,” she explained and the Lords from her council sighed and rolled their eyes.

Those foolish, non-Targaryen men really wanted Rhaenyra’s dragons to cause slaughter, not understanding the possible consequences.

“The dragon will be there to patrol the battlefield – it will be there just in case the Greens send their own, too. And it will be there to intimidate the enemy. Intimidate only,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“I shall go,” Baela spoke up and everyone laid their eyes on her but you spotted that Rhaenyra was unsure. Baela was like a daughter to her and even if the dragon was not supposed to actually participate in any fighting, it still was a risky business to go.

“I shall go,” you straightened your back and now everyone looked at you. Baela was visibly unhappy with that, too. She wanted to prove herself.

“But…” She started.

“Onyx is bigger than Moondancer,” you told her. “And I am older. This is far too dangerous for you.”

“But…” She sighed again and looked at Rhaenyra in a way that suggested she knew something you had no idea of. “Who is going to tell The Princess?”

“Who is going to tell me what?” You shook your head questioningly as you looked at all the gathered members of the council. The men clasped their hands and looked down or they tried to avoid your gaze in different ways; looking through or behind you, turning their heads away and clearing their throats. “Who is going to tell me what?” You repeated the question, irritated now.

“Elaena,” Rhaenys finally spoke up and you looked at her, “it is your husband who leads The Green army now, so we have been informed. Your father-in-law called for him and Ser Gwayne Hightower came all the way from Oldtown to lead the army of his nephew.”

You blinked a few times at that revelation, still not processing it fully.

“And Cole?” You asked.

“Aegon named him his new Hand,” Rhaenyra informed you. “He was summoned back to King’s Landing.”

“And Otto?” You furrowed your brow.

“Probably on his way back to Oldtown, Gods only know,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “It doesn’t matter now, Elaena. What matters is that your husband leads the enemy’s army.”

Short silence occurred and you knew that everyone was observing your reaction carefully as if they were inspecting you. But those past few weeks you had learnt how to keep a poker face on. Your jaw was clenched as you discretely wiped your sweaty hands in your skirts.

“I shall go,” you nodded, surely.

“Elaena…” Rhaenyra gave you a meaningful look as if she was scolding you. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“It must be. It is my husband,” you explained.

“Do you think he might stop his army from attacking at the sight of you?” Jacaerys asked you but you spotted a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I do not know. It might motivate him further to attack, it might want him to stop or it might make him indifferent,” you admitted, truthfully. “But it must be me going there,” you insisted, looking deep into your sister’s eyes.

You desperately wanted her to understand that it was important for you to see him again – even if it would be under such circumstances.

Rhaenyra nodded and you cracked a smile although some men were whispering between each other about this decision but you decided to pretend not to hear it.

“You shall leave at dawn,” Rhaenyra told you. “But, Elaena, remember – do not attack, do you hear me? If The Greens bring their own dragon and they use it, only then you are allowed to join the fight,” she pointed her finger at you.

“I understand,” you nodded your head. It was the reason why you wanted to do it – because it meant patrolling and intimidating only, not the real fight.

“Good. I trust you, sister,” Rhaenyra smiled at you.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

In the morning, you didn’t even have breakfast, too nervous for the upcoming battle. You let your maids braid your hair according to the Valyrian customs and you wore an armour that had been made for you recently. It would be the first time you'd actually wear it outside.

The armour was made of black metal with the ornaments made of Valyrian steel. It was light and feminine but it was intimidating, too, and surely worthy of a dragonrider. You insisted on the black colour because of Onyx’s scales.

You hid the small portrait of your children inside your armour and you looked at yourself one more time in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile although it was difficult to recognise yourself like this.

“I am a dragon,” you whispered to yourself and lifted your chin up. “I am a Targaryen Princess and I am a dragon blood, a dragon rider – a dragon myself,” you repeated, trying to motivate yourself and with a deep breath, you left the chambers as fast as possible to go to the dragonpit.

Onyx was already waiting for you and a brand new saddle had been placed upon her back – it was matching your black armour. She purred at the sight of you and you petted her nose the way she liked it.

“We have a job to do, my girl,” you told her. “We have to scare Gwayne a little,” you chuckled and she huffed in a way that resembled laughter, too.

With a smile, you jumped on her back and you flew out of Dragonstone. Onyx roared when you were up in the sky as if she was saying farewell.

It didn’t take long to get to Rook’s Rest on a dragonback but the closer you were to your destination, the more nervous you were becoming. You saw from a distance the banners of the two armies and you could hear the clinging sounds of their armours in the wind, the battlecries and the cannons.

They were starting the battle already when you arrived and Onyx announced you with a long and loud roar. You straightened yourself and looked down proudly, with a smirk on your face. Everything froze below you for a moment and then a thunderous cheer greeted you amongst the Black Army.

It was a powerful feeling, you had to admit. No experience of yours could match with it – no memory from when you had been The Royal Princess living in King’s Landing, no memory of your recent time now in Dragonstone and not even any memory of yours from Oldtown where you had been the Lady Hightower.

No amount of respect and power that had ever been shown towards you could match to what you were feeling now – you felt pretty invincible, in fact. And you knew it was bold of you and it was only caused by the sudden rush of adrenaline but in that moment you felt like The Queen yourself. Like you could challenge Rhaenyra and Aegon both – after all, you were their sister, too. Your father had been The King and you were a Targaryen. You had been born to rule over those people below you – those small figures that resembled ants in comparison to your Onyx and its fire.

It was scary how easy it was to forget that you were one of those ants, too.

You ignored the cheers of the Black Army and you looked down at The Greens, searching for one person only – obviously. And you spotted him as your heart skipped a beat.

Gwayne was sitting on his horse in his beautiful armour that you had always admired. Even from this great height you could see that he was looking up with fear in his eyes. You smirked and Onyx roared once again, more angrily this time. The Green Army was panicking as the men were shouting at each other and some were trying to hide.

All the time stopped for you for a short while, though. Your eyes were fixed on your Lord Husband only – it had been a few long weeks apart from him. You wondered what was going inside his head at the moment but most likely it was nothing but a paralysing fear. It was a painful death to die in the fire and he had been telling you about it a few times before that it was one of his fears whenever you had teased him about using Onyx against him. Now, it was no longer a banter between a married couple but reality.

You didn’t want to torment him any more. You ordered Onyx to fly away and leave The Greens alone for now as you went back higher in the skies to patrol the battle. Despite giving them a sign that you were not there to kill them, from the corner of your eye, you spotted that some of the cannons of the Green Army were now aimed at you and Onyx.

Gwayne, however, shaking out of his state of fear, ordered them to turn around and aim at the castle and The Blacks instead. You smiled to yourself and kept circling up in the air as Onyx roared.

Despite your strong bond with her, you could feel how uneasy she was, how impatient. It surprised you because Onyx was a young dragon and she had no experience in battle. In fact, you had suspected her to shy away or get scared at the sight the real fight. And now, your girl seemed to be pretty bold and angry as she huffed and puffed, while her muscles tensed.

“Lykirī, Onyx, lykirī,” you ordered as you patted her neck to calm her down but you had to admit that her restlessness was making you feel worried if you were even able to fully control her after all.

She roared and lowered herself. You squinted your eyes to observe the battle but you had to shout Lykirī! all the time at your dragon because she seemed to be more than eager to join the fight. The sight of her and the sounds she was making seemed to work, though. The Greens were terrified and kept looking up all the time to make sure she wouldn’t burn them all any second. Your intimidation plan seemed to be working better than you had expected.

A few times during the battle, you found Gwayne’s eyes somehow and he would look up back at you but then he would ride away on his horse. Each time, your heart clenched inside your chest and Onyx had to feel it because it was when she was growing the most uneasy.

So far, it was the Green Army that had been winning battle after battle but now they seemed to be too distracted by the dragon flying overhead. It was not the fault of your husband’s leadership – your knowledge of warfare was little but you could see even from up there that most of his orders and ideas were good. It was just simply not enough when a huge beast was a constant deathly treat. The morales were simply too low and you could see that some knights even tried to desert the battlefield in a desperate attempt to save themselves from your hypothetical dragonfire. Meanwhile, The Blacks were not as organised but they felt more confident than ever with The Targaryen Princess watching over them.

“Lykirī, Onyx!” You shouted at your dragon when you felt that her neck was tensing as if she was about to let out the fire. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” You hummed to yourself and leaned in to pat her neck and then you froze at the sight below you.

Gwayne was not wearing his helmet anymore and he was no longer in the saddle. You couldn’t spot his horse but he was surrounded by the Black Army knights. He was fighting them bravely but he was alone against four men and it was a hopeless struggle yet he refused to give up and become their prisoner. You looked around and spotted that most of the Green knights that remained in the battlefield were struggling in a similar way to your husband. You knew very well how it would end now. It would be the very first victory of your army and Rook’s Rest would be defended.

But at what price?

You could see Gwayne’s face more clearly now as Onyx lowered herself even further. He was exhausted and bruised, dirty from the mud and blood and his lip was cut. You had to fight an urge inside of you to just run into his arms, to hold him again, to kiss him, to be with him. 

But, so far, it looked like you would never be able to do it since he would lose soon. And you would continue your life with the image of him dying in the battlefield – you would continue your life with regret of leaving him and then doing absolutely nothing to help him in the battlefield.

Onyx groaned loudly and exposed her claws and teeth. You were about to calm her down again and then you noticed something that you had not noticed before – she was not trying to attack the Green Army but… the Black one.

You froze as you realised that her eyes were fixated on the knights carrying your sister’s banners. The fire forming in the depths of her throat was aimed at the men gathered near the castle walls and trying to stop the attack of Gwayne’s army.

Onyx was not loyal to Rhaenyra, after all. Onyx was your dragon and she was loyal to you only. You were her mistress and her rider. She knew you better than anyone else.

Some of the knights of the Black Army cheered at you and your dragon – so confident and sure of themselves that they hadn’t noticed that Onyx’s anger was aimed at them. You squinted your eyes at the black banners of Rhaenyra and then the few of the remaining green ones of Aegon.

Gods damn it, you thought. You loved them both – your sister and your brother. But you also did not really care about any of them being the ruler of Westeros because you were not close with any of them. You had been close to your sister but that was fifteen years ago and now she was like a stranger to you. Aegon had been a baby when you left to Oldtown. Your real family – the man you loved, the father of your children – he was down there, struggling, and surely about to die soon if you wouldn’t do anything to help him.

“Dracarys, Onyx,” you ordered after taking a deep breath in. You watched as if you were outside of your own body how her fire destroyed half of the Black Army in mere seconds. You blinked a few times, still detached physically and mentally from the scene that you were responsible for.

Your dragon seemed to have lots of fun, though. She landed on the ground, crushing a few Black knights on the way. The remaining ones were widening their eyes, too terrified to move or they were trying to run away. Onyx did not need your commands anymore, she just kept on burning them as her waving tail destroyed the castle’s tower, killing dozens of men in the process. You were sitting in the saddle with your back straightened and your chin high, looking over death and destruction with the poker face you had mastered the previous weeks.

You had just become the murderer and the destroyer – the very first person in this war who used her dragon as a weapon. And yet, you felt nothing. Perhaps the regret would come later but all that mattered to you now was that Gwayne was safe again. The remaining Green knights ran up to him and helped him to defeat his enemies and then they stood behind their commander while watching the scene in terror.

When the Black Army was defeated by Onyx nearly single-handedly, you turned her around to face the remaining knights by your husband’s side and Gwayne himself. Onyx roared at them and you could hear that she was happy to see them but they didn’t know her the way you did, therefore they remained terrified. After all, you could have been a maniac who would kill everyone, right?

You were a Targaryen, after all.

You enjoyed their fear for a short while and then you ordered Onyx to lay down and she did so, allowing you to dismount her. Your legs were a bit shaky from all the hours in the saddle and all the emotions but you managed to do it gracefully enough.

You turned around to look into Gwayne’s blue eyes. They were filled with shock and terror but you ignored that completely, finally doing something you had wanted to do for weeks now.

You ran up to him and straight into his arms, nearly knocking him off on the ground as your armours clashed loudly. The knights surrounding him were observing the scene carefully, too scared to react in any way since your Onyx had just given the show of what she was capable of.

Now, however, she looked pretty adorable and innocent as she seemed to take a small nap in the middle of the battlefield full of ashes and blood.

“My Lord,” you cupped your husband’s face and he looked into your eyes with a hint of sadness that you could had expected. However, you were glad that it was sadness instead of anger. “Will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?” You asked, nearly innocently, while biting on your lip as if you weren’t responsible for all this death and destruction below your feet.

Gwayne looked nervously at Onyx napping behind your back and cracked a sad smile at you.

“Do I have a choice, my Lady Wife?” He tried to make a joke as he put his hands on your waist. “If I say no, you will order your dragon to burn me.”

“Onyx would never burn you,” you shook your head with a chuckle as you sniffled your tears back. “That dragon is more difficult to manage than I expected.”

“She is just like you then, my Princess,” Gwayne raised one of his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle like he could not believe that you were really there, standing in front of him.

“She is my dragon, after all. Onyx knows my heart – I could lie to myself but I could never lie to her,” you nodded and then you looked around. “What a mess I have caused.”

“Indeed,” Gwayne only nodded and took his hand away from you.

He turned around and ordered his men to look for the wounded knights and to go for the castle since it was practically left for the taking now. They had to put the new banners on the walls now. You kept standing there and waiting for him to finish so you would be left alone to talk now. When it happened, he looked at you with a sigh and you cracked a smile at his handsome face even though it was bruised and dirty.

“I had to leave. She is my sister, I have sworn to her, she needed me,” you explained.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded. “It broke my heart, Elaena, but I understood. At least some part of me did. I could not understand how you could leave our children like that,” he approached you and you looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“How are they? What have you told them?”

“They are safe,” Gwayne assured you. “They miss you…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have lied to them… Well, not really. I have told them that you went to visit your sister. That it was an urgent family matter and you had no time to say farewell but you would be back… Soon,” Gwayne explained. “They are too young to know about the war so they believed me.”

“I doubt Steffon did. He is ten and two now, of course he knows about the war,” you pointed out and shyly looked up. “I shall go to them, even today. I shall take Onyx and go back to Oldtown to hold my children and…” You stopped when you realised something painful. “Of course, that is, if you allow me,” you fixed yourself.

“You are the Lady of Oldtown, I would never forbid you from the city,” Gwayne shook his head. “And you are their mother, they need you.”

“Yes, but so do you. Especially now,” you explained. “After seeing our children, I shall come back to you. I shall accompany you in each battle from now on. I have started something you have no idea of… Now Rhaenyra will make sure to send her dragons to war, too. Her pain and anger will be great from my betrayal,” you pointed out.

“Why did you betray her?” Gwayne asked, raising his eyebrow. “You have sworn to her, haven’t you? What made you change your mind to support King Aegon instead?”

“Fuck Aegon!” You dismissed him and he widened his eyes. “And fuck Rhaenyra. I don’t care about any of them.”

“You shall not be heard saying such things,” Gwayne chuckled nervously.

“They are my siblings, I can speak whatever of them,” you shrugged your arms. “I am by your side only,” you confessed and you looked away.

You knew it was a bit stupid to confess such things when you were the one who had abandoned him without a word of a warning or any explanation. You should be grateful that he was talking to you instead of cutting your head off – as your Lord Husband he had every right to after your stunt and since you were technically a traitor to both of the sides, no one would even punish him for killing you.

But Gwayne moved even closer to you and grabbed your wrist to squeeze it, which made you look up at him shyly again.

“I love you, Elaena. And please, do forgive me that it took me losing you to finally say it out loud. And if it took you running away to realise the same about me, then I can be only grateful for this experience. You are a dragon, my Princess, and I am sorry for forgetting about that,” he whispered.

You couldn’t believe your ears… He was apologising to you?!

“Do not be too greedy, Lord Husband. Do you really expect me to admit out loud that I love you as if I haven’t just betrayed my own army for you? Is that not enough?” You chuckled and so did he, awkwardly. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and then he caressed it lovingly. You could feel the longing and yearning in those gestures. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed. “I’ve missed us.”

“So have I,” Gwayne kissed your forehead. It was not proper to exchange such affections in public but you were in the middle of the battlefield so you did not bother to care about it. “But it would be my greatest wish for you to stay in Oldtown after coming back there. I do not want you on the battlefield, Elaena.”

“You can’t stop me,” you shrugged your arms and squeezed his wrists lovingly.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” He tried a different approach as he smirked at you.

“Watch me,” you smirked back and gently kissed him on the lips.

You hurried through the halls of The Hightower while all the maids and servants were staring at you with widened eyes. They certainly had not expected to ever see you again but no one was trying to stop you. You rushed to the nursery room where all your children had been gathered after your arrival. You had changed from your armour into a comfortable dress and had ordered your maids that you wanted to see your sons and daughters.

You finally pushed the doors open and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks at the sight of their faces. Loras, Lysa and Roslin hurried to you with big smiles and hugged you tightly. You crouched down to squeeze them all lovingly.

“Mummy!” Little Roslin seemed to be the happiest and she was practically shaking at the sight of you. Your heart ached for her when you kissed her all over her tiny face.

“We’re so happy to see you again, Mother,” Loras greeted you like a big boy and you cracked a smile at him before kissing his forehead.

“I am so happy to see you again, too, my love. I’ve missed you terribly,” you confessed, looking at Steffon from the corner of your eye. The silver haired boy was keeping his distance from you and staring at you questioningly. “Steffon?” You called for him and he walked up to you reluctantly.

“Mother,” he only said and kissed your cheek before moving away. “Does father know that you’re here?”

“Of course,” you furrowed your brow at him. “I saw him yesterday,” you nodded at him but he didn’t look convinced.

“And how was the time with your sister?” Lysa asked and you kissed her cheeks.

“It was good,” you nodded with a sad smile. “But I regretted that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Will you stay now?” Loras asked and you caressed his head gently.

“I wish I could but I have to join your father,” you explained. “We will be back soon. Together,” you assured him.

“Father left for the war,” Steffon pointed out.

“And I must, too. I am a Targaryen and a dragonrider, my darling,” you tried to explain. “Either way, let’s not dwell on that now. We have a whole day to spend together,” you squeezed the hands of your girls.

You didn’t leave your children even for a second for the whole day and in the evening you allowed them to sleep with you in your chambers that you share with Gwayne. Since he was not in Oldtown, there was a lot of empty space in the bed. Steffon did not join you in the evening, though, and for the whole day he was roaming around but never actively spending his time with you either. It was hurting you deeply but you wanted to give him space and you were aware that he was old enough to realise more than you’d like him to. You could not blame him for being angry.

Watching your sweet babies sleep, you could not drift off to the land of dreams yourself. You had spent the previous night in the arms of your husband after weeks of being apart and it had surely helped you to fall asleep but now you were being haunted by the visions of what had happened in the battlefield and of what Rhaenyra’s reaction had to be after hearing about your betrayal.

You were laying on your back and staring at the ceiling when the doors creaked as they opened and you lifted yourself on your elbows to see the intruder. It was Steffon.

“Mother?” He whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, my love. Come in,” you whispered back and carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake up the rest of your children.

You approached your son and put your hands on his shoulders. The night was cold, therefore there was a fire burning in the fireplace. You brought him closer and you both sat on a fluffy carpet there. Steffon avoided your gaze but you could see he was dying to ask you something.

“What is it, my love?” You fixed his silver hair gently.

“I know what the war is about and that you left to see your sister…” He mumbled out quietly. “You chose her. Not us,” he pointed out and dared to look up, his lilac eyes meeting yours.

“No, I chose you. You have no idea what I have done, the choice I have made,” you nodded at him and caressed his cheek with your finger. “I left to see her, she is my sister, my blood. I grew up alongside her, we share the same father and the same mother. But there was a hole in my chest because I missed you and… And I missed your father, too,” you confessed.

“I have never seen him sadder,” Steffon said and your heart clenched inside your chest. “I knew it was not about you visiting your sister. I knew immediately you had abandoned us.”

“I know you are angry at me now and you have every right to be. And I know how much children hate it when they are being told that but one day you shall understand it. Because you are a Targaryen, perhaps the most out of all my children,” you smiled at him.

“Because of my hair and eyes?”

“No, my love. All of my children are as Targaryen as Hightower. But you have the spirit… The fire,” you told him. “I love all my children dearly but you are a dragon,” you nodded.

“Do you have to leave again?” He asked and his lilac eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be back,” you promised. “But I’m a dragonrider and when the war calls, I am on the go,” you explained. “Your father needs me by his side and King Aegon needs more dragons.”

Steffon sniffed his tears back and he finally moved closer to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

In the evening of the very next day you were already dismounting Onyx in King’s Landing. All that travelling had been exhausting for you and her but it was necessary. You patted her and allowed her to rest in the dragonpit as you were being escorted to The Red Keep by a few guards.

You were wearing your armour again even though it felt a bit wrong to wear the armour that Rhaenyra had requested to be made for you so you could fight the war for her.

Gwayne was waiting for you by the gates to the castle. You smiled widely at the sight of him and you ran up to your husband as he ordered the guards to walk away because he would escort you to The King himself.

“And how was it?” He asked you after kissing the palm of your hand.

“Only Steffon knew, just as I suspected,” you sighed. “But we have explained everything to each other. I believe he has forgiven me or at least he is no longer cross with me,” you nodded. “I miss them again but the pain is less when I know I am with you,” you smiled and Gwayne took you by your arm to lead you to the council meeting.

“You have become quite a controversial figure, my Princess,” he informed you and you chuckled nervously.

“I do wonder why,” you tried to joke.

The doors were opened in front of you and you were announced as Princess Elaena Targaryen, Lady Hightower while everyone was staring at you.

The man sitting right in front of you had to be your brother Aegon because he was taking your father’s seat by the table. You bowed down at him and after a short while of silence, he laughed and clapped his hands.

“Sister!” He greeted you so happily that you were nearly suspecting an ambush. He stood up and rushed to your side to wrap his arms tightly around you. “Sister Elaena! How good it is to see you again! Do you remember me?” He took a step back and looked deep into your eyes, hoping for a positive answer like an excited puppy.

You cracked a smile at him and dared to move your hand up to brush a single silver hair strand behind his ear in a motherly way.

“Of course I do, my King,” you nodded. “You were a small babe then but I remember it fondly,” you assured him and it was no lie. “You loved to sit on my lap by the table and eat all the sweets that I was spoiling you with despite our father’s scolding looks. It was always our secret how many cakes you ate,” you reminded him and Aegon grinned at you.

“This is my sister!” He pointed his finger at you after turning around to face his council. “My sister who has burnt Rhaenyra’s army for me. Her loyalty shall not be questioned,” he announced and walked away to sit on his chair again.

You didn’t want to correct him that you hadn’t burnt anyone for him because it would be a political suicide to do so. You only cracked a smile at your husband. You didn’t expect the greeting to go so smoothly. Aegon seemed to be very desperate for any sort of attention or affection.

“Princess Elaena’s loyalty shall still be proven,” the tall young man without one eye smirked at you. That had to be your brother Aemond, whom you hadn’t met.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at that. Each side had their Daemon, apparently.

“I will be proving my loyalty to The King, brother. I do not owe you anything for we are equals,” you reminded him with a smirk, too.

Suddenly, Queen Alicent stood up and approached you to give you a warm hug. You hugged her back even though you were surprised by that welcome from her.

“We are happy to have you back,” she said and you spotted honesty alongside the sadness in her big, brown eyes. You nodded your head at her.

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Queen Dowager,” she fixed you. “Helaena is The Queen now. Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the image of tiny Helaena from your memories. “I would love to see her.”

“After the meeting,” Queen Alicent nodded and pointed at the empty chair for you. Gwayne stood behind you as if he was your sworn guard.

Well, as your Lord Husband, he was.

After the meeting of King Aegon’s council, you went to Queen Helaena’s chambers with Queen Alicent.

“Helaena, you have a guest,” her mother opened the doors gently. “It is your sister, Princess Elaena.”

After that introduction, you walked inside and bowed your head in front of your younger sister. She was standing by the window and turned her head around as her eyes widened at the sight of you.

“An oath-breaker,” she greeted you in a mysterious way that made a chill go down your spine. “You bring death and destruction.”

You had no idea how to answer that and you looked at Alicent, searching for some sort of explanation but she only blushed and looked down, uncomfortably.

“Our Queen often speaks in riddles,” she told you.

“No, your majesty,” you shook your head, “I do know very well what our Queen means.”

MASTERLIST

[melancholy-of-nadia]

infatuation (m) | myg

title: infatuation pairing: yoongi x f. reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; agust d universe (AgustDverse based in Haegeum) ; gang leader / mafia AU summary:  Living with fragmented and blurry memories has lead you to live under the roof of Bangkok's biggest secret crime boss, Agust D, as his bodyguard. Though, being confined to the mansion most of the time has made you feel isolated, craving freedom and answers. When he decides to take you out to dinner for the first time, the atmosphere is charged with tension and suspicion. You're not the only one who's patience is wearing thin, however, instead, it's discovering this man's infatuation with you that will lead you to change your mind. warnings:  weapon mention (katana), reader has minor amnesia, back and forth arguing, murder mention, deep fish imagery/analogy, haegeum!suga mention, dominant haegeum! agust d, making out, penthouse s*x, f*ngering, cl*t stimulation, orgasm denial, choking, power imbalance, bl*w job, bre*st play, spiting, deep throating, pet names, agust d praises you by calling you "good girl", unprotected s*x, lowkey breeding k*nk, choking, possessiveness, multiple orgasms, uh i think that's it!... yandere? haegeum!agust d maybe note: it's been a year since i uploaded my first fic in this universe i call the AgustDverse. Also the first fic that got me into writing bts fics! I've been requested to continue this universe by my dear friend @daegudrama. I don't know if it'll ever become an actual cohesive series, but if you guys like it, let me know! also this is veerrrryyyyy much unedited im sorry i will edit later word count: 6.0k drop date: August 6th, 2024 7:30pm PST mood playlist | ao3 link – –

You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—nestled within the mansion walls of a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective. 

Known as Agust D. 

How did you get here? It's a question that continuously echoes through your mind like a constant drumbeat. 

It’s not an easy question to answer. It’s actually pretty complicated. Time travel? A quantum jump? You don’t know whatever scientific phenomenon this is. 

But for your own sanity, you decided not to dwell too much on it, especially when the present demands your full attention.

Agust has let you live here under the guise of acting as his bodyguard, which is perhaps the strangest thing you've ever done. You had no prior guarding experience, but the katana sword that hangs by your side now tells otherwise. This item is a constant reminder of your supposed purpose here: to protect the mansion, to protect Agust D. But deep down, you know there's more to this arrangement than meets the eye.

Tonight, however, is different. Agust D, the enigmatic master of this mansion, has extended an invitation—an invitation to dine at an upscale Chinese restaurant. It's a rare opportunity to step beyond the confines of these walls, to breathe in the outside world, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you stand before the full-length mirror in your room, you can't help but feel a surge of apprehension. The maids have stated that Agust D insisted you wear a black satin dress he selected for the occasion—a garment that feels foreign against your skin, yet somehow fitting for the night. You’re too used to wearing a collared white button-up and a plaid skirt for most of the time while you’re at the mansion. You don’t know how long you’d been wearing that, but definitely longer than a young girl who’s in prep school.

Adjusting the delicate fabric, you take in your reflection, the unfamiliarity of the attire almost unnerving. 

A knock at the door interrupts your contemplation, and without waiting for a response, Agust D enters, his presence commanding the room. Dressed in a tailored black suit that exudes power and authority, he regards you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You look stunning," he remarks, a hint of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you ready to go?"

With a half nod, you follow him down the stairs and out of the mansion, the cool night air wrapping around you like a shroud of secrecy. Then you hop into the black sports car, which Yoongi decides to drive this time instead of his chauffeur.

The journey to the restaurant is silent, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of the piano music playing, which came from connecting Agust D’s phone to the car’s aux.

He really does love Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music, you comment internally to yourself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you're met with the grandeur of an upscale Chinese eatery perched on the top floor of a hotel building. The space is a harmonious blend of modern elegance and traditional opulence. As you step inside, the ambient chatter of elite people and the soft clinking of cutlery fill the air, creating a lively yet refined atmosphere that contrasts sharply with the muted silence of the mansion.

The restaurant’s interior is a feast for the senses. Rich, dark wood paneling lines the walls, accented by gold and red details that evoke a sense of luxury. Elegant lanterns hang from the ceiling, their warm, golden light casting a gentle glow across the room. The tables are adorned with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate porcelain dishes, each piece carefully chosen to complement the sophisticated ambiance.

The scent of Chinese cuisine mingles with the faint aroma of incense, creating an inviting and tantalizing atmosphere. The restaurant's design features intricate latticework and traditional Chinese artwork, adding a touch of cultural authenticity to the modern setting. Plush, comfortable chairs surround each table, offering a sense of intimacy and relaxation.

As the restaurant host takes note of Agust D standing beside you, there’s a brief moment of panic in his eyes. He quickly ushers you both to a secluded corner of the establishment, a private nook separated from the rest of the dining area by elegant silk drapes. This area, though separated, still enjoys a view of the city skyline through large, floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking panorama of the illuminated city below. 

You are seated across from Agust, but there’s still a subtle awkward atmosphere surrounding the both of you when he orders and after the food arrives. 

For a moment, the clinking of silverware against porcelain fills the silence before Agust D finally speaks.

"Do you still not remember anything?" 

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in the depths of your eyes about how to respond to him. "Bits and pieces," you admit, your gaze lingering on the dimly lit surroundings. "But nothing concrete. It's like trying to grasp at shadows."

His expression remains impassive, but you catch a fleeting glimpse of something else—something akin to regret, perhaps, or even longing. "It will come back to you," he says, his tone softer than before. "With time."

You only nod, going back to eating one of the xiaolongbao at the center of the table.

The air between you and Agust D grows heavier once again with unspoken words. You don’t like the silence. As someone who is very self-aware of their self, you feel compelled to break the silence to not be stuck in your head. 

"Agust D," you begin tentatively, the name feeling foreign on your tongue yet strangely familiar. You don’t refer to him by name often, as you opt for ‘sir’ or the occasional ‘Hyungnim’. "Why did you bring me here tonight? You never do this sort of thing…"

He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, you've been cooped up in that mansion for so long," he replies cryptically, his gaze piercing through the facade you've carefully constructed. “Thought it would be good to treat you for your work.”

"But why now?" you press, unable to suppress the curiosity gnawing at your insides. "And wearing this?" You refer to the short piece of black fabric covering you.

Agust D's lips quirk up in a wry smile, though there's no warmth in it. "Maybe I wanted to see how you'd be like out… not on duty," he muses, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps I simply wanted company for the evening."

Company, huh? From the outside, it looks like you’re on a date. You wouldn’t doubt the restaurant staff is already gossiping from behind the curtains partitioning you from the rest of the world.

You can't help but feel a sense of unease at his words, a nagging suspicion that there's more to his motives than meets the eye. "Is that really all?" you press, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

For a moment, Agust D's mask slips, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the facade of indifference. "There's always more to say," he murmurs, his gaze turning distant as if lost in memories you can't access. "But some things are better left unsaid."

What does he even mean by that? You feel like every time you speak even a bit casually to this man, you only end up more confused and maybe even a bit more scared.

"Agust D," you venture cautiously, "...are you still looking for Suga?"

At the mention of the name, a shadow passes over Agust D's features, his expression hardening into a mask of resolve. "Suga," he repeats, the name dripping with bitterness and contempt. "Of course I’m looking for him. That man is nothing but trouble. I need to get rid of him."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man whose name hangs between you like a specter, a reminder of the past you can't quite grasp. "But why? Why do you hate him so much?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agust D's eyes darken with a mix of anger and regret, a storm raging beneath the surface. "He’s got my face and that in itself is a danger to all of us," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "He could also be the answer to everything I've lost, but it’s better if that answer is never revealed."

The words hang heavy in the air from a confession laden with pain. And as you gaze into the depths of Agust D's eyes, you realize that beneath the cold exterior lies a man haunted by his past—a man who, like you, is searching for answers, but afraid to confront them. You want to pry into what he means, but you’re scared that he may act aggressively. So instead you change the topic.

"Don’t you know his whereabouts though?" you inquire softly, your voice laced with concern.

Agust D's gaze meets yours. "I do," he confirms, his voice low and measured. "He’s in Chinatown. Living in an apartment at the end of Weng Nakorn Kasem. But I can’t act on impulse. I’m too heavily involved in the Asia Pacific Police Union, and that already involves too many variables, too many unknowns."

A sense of foreboding settles over you as you listen to his words, the weight of his burdens pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "What do you mean?" you press, your voice barely a whisper.

Agust D sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't move against him yet," he admits, his tone laced with resignation. "Not until I know how many people are on my side. There are spies within the organization. If I act too quickly, I could end up getting myself killed…"

The gravity of his words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the fragile truce that exists between you. And yet, despite the dangers that lurk in the darkness, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. If you help him in capturing Suga, then maybe you’ll be able to piece your own puzzle together.

But would that even be a good idea?

"Agust D," you say softly, smiling gently at him, "you know you don't have to face this alone. Whatever happens, I'll stand by your side. Not like I have much of a choice anyway." Your words trail off at the end. He doesn’t comment on it though.

For a moment, there's a vulnerability in Agust D's gaze, a fleeting glimpse of the man beneath the mask. He reaches out to take your hand, his expression softening ever so slightly at your words. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s my job after all.”

––––––

After finishing dinner, the two of you begin to walk out of the restaurant, entering a long hallway that leads to large red sliding doors that exit.  Your eyes drift toward the grand wall aquarium positioned near the exit, its towering glass panels reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights.

The aquarium is a masterpiece of design, housing a diverse array of aquatic life within its transparent confines. Colorful coral reefs sway gently in the water, their vibrant hues casting mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow across the sandy substrate below.

But amidst the bustling underwater ecosystem, your gaze fixates on a lone goldfish, its sleek form gliding gracefully through the water. Its vibrant orange scales shimmer in the ambient light, a stark contrast to the subdued colors of its surroundings.

A pang of concern tugs at your heart as you watch the solitary fish navigate its artificial habitat. Don't goldfish typically reside in tranquil ponds, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature? Is it even safe for them to be confined within the confines of this glass enclosure?

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Agust D's departure until you feel a gentle tug on your arm. Startled, you turn to find him regarding you with a curious expression, his gaze flickering between you and the aquarium.

"What's on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing display before you, your thoughts still lingering on the lone koi fish. "I was just...thinking about that fish," you admit, gesturing toward the aquarium.

“The goldfish?”

“Mhm,” As you stand there, watching the solitary koi fish swim about, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. "I wish I were a fish sometimes," you murmur.

As funny as your sentence sounds, you thought the older man would laugh at you for making a comment like that. However, Agust D's gaze flickers at you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. 

"Why's that?" he asks, his voice soft with intrigue.

You pause, contemplating your answer as you watch the graceful movements of the fish. "Uh, well they seem so free," you explain, your voice tinged with longing. “They get to go wherever they want. move through life with such ease in the water, not burdened by the weight of the world.”

As you continue to watch the fish, a sense of yearning wells up within you—a desire to shed the constraints of your human existence. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "I wish I could trade places with that fish just so I could be able to live freely, to live without my own burdens."

Agust D nods in understanding, a silent reassurance amid your musings. "But you know, even fish have their own struggles. I mean, look at it, it’s trapped in this Chinese restaurant’s aquarium as entertainment for guests, fighting to survive in a place it doesn’t belong,”

Sigh.

He’s right. But you hate the fact that he’s right.

“That still doesn’t change what I said. Plus, I don't want to be that fish.” you interject, your voice laced with a hint of sadness. "Slowly destroyed by its surroundings… not belonging there."

Agust D's brow furrows in contemplation, his gaze returning to the small goldfish. "So what are you trying to say?" 

"I don't want to feel like that," you admit. "Trapped in a world that doesn't feel like home, constantly struggling to find where I belong!"

And you hate it because that is exactly how you’ve been feeling right now. You’re living with a man several years older than you, who is probably the most dangerous man in Thailand, maybe even all of Asia. And you have no idea why you stuck here with him, but where could you really go? Where are you actually from? Where is home?

Agust D's expression hardens slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Life isn't always about feeling at home," he counters. "Sometimes it's about surviving where you are and making the best of it."

No! He doesn’t get it.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his words, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "That's easy for you to say," you retort, tone sharp. "You're not the one who's been confined to that mansion, to these guarding duties, waiting for memories to come back."

His eyes narrow slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in them. "You think I don't have my own battles?" he snaps back. "I'm out there every day, dealing with threats you can't even imagine."

"At least you have control over these things. You have the entirety of this city wrapped around your finger," you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. "At least you know who you are and what you're fighting for!”

The tension between you two shifts. Agust D steps closer, his presence looming, but you refuse to back down, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

Inside, you're a storm of emotions—anger, confusion, and a touch of desperation. How can he be so dense and unreadable, yet so annoyingly calm? It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Every word you say seems to bounce off him while his expression remaining infuriatingly stoic. You want to scream, to make him understand just how much this is tearing you apart, but he stands there, unmoved, as if your turmoil is nothing more than a slight breeze in his world.

“Agust, you–”

"Fuck…you're so hot when you're upset, doll," he murmurs, interrupting you with a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. Before you can react, he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the exit.

Huh?

"Hey!" you protest, your frustration mingling with a surge of adrenaline. But Agust D doesn't relent, his grip firm as he guides you out of the restaurant and into the elevator.

As the elevator doors slide shut, sealing you both inside the confined space, the tension between you reaches a boiling point. "What are you doing?" you demand, your voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Instead of answering, Agust D pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a fierce intensity. Your initial resistance melts away as the kiss deepens, the heat between you igniting into a blazing inferno powered by unknown frustrations beneath the surface.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you glare at him. "You can't just—" you start, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

"I can and I will," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a husky whisper. "Because right now, all I can think about is you."

Your frustration mingles with a heady mix of desire, the lines between anger and passion blurring as you give in to the moment. As the elevator ascends, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you.

When the elevator dings softly, signaling its arrival on your floor, you find yourselves in a private hallway in the hotel building, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the intensity of your kiss. Agust D pulls back, his eyes dark with desire and determination.

"We're not done talking," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through you. "But right now, I need you."

Your eyes are left wide open, feeling hormones coursing through you.

This can’t be happening. Is this all a dream? Yes, this has to be. And what’s with the scenario? Are you that sexually frustrated? You admit you’ve never done this sort of thing and have only spent your free time reading erotica for entertainment. 

But to dream about fucking the very man keeping you captive within his mansion and living as a bodyguard. There has got to be something wrong with you. Maybe you’re experiencing Stockholm syndrome? But you’ve not once felt emotionally attached to this man.

Though there have been times you’ve looked at him and thought about how beautiful he looked.

Shit.

Maybe you’ll go along with this. Everything else be damned, for now.

“Show me then,” You word out, which only fires him up more.

Agust D’s grip on your arm is firm but not painful as he leads you down the luxurious hallway to a penthouse suite, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. Your thoughts are a chaotic jumble, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming at you to stop and the primal part urging you to give in.

As soon as the door to a suite clicks shut behind you, he’s on you again, pushed against a wall, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You respond in kind, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Every touch, every kiss feels electric, igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know existed.

In the back of your mind, you know this is wrong. You know you should be resisting, should be fighting against the pull he has on you. But right now, in this moment, all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his lips move against yours, the way his presence consumes you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, showcasing his possessive nature. “I refuse to let you go.”

His hands start to inch up under your dress until he reaches your core and starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. He watches your reaction with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “To feel me, to know that you’re mine?”

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your body arching toward his touch, craving more.

“Good,” he says, his fingers moving with a deft precision that has you teetering on the edge. “Because I’m not stopping until you know that you belong to me.”

He continues his ministrations, his touch driving you wild with need. The logical part of your brain has long since surrendered, leaving only the raw, primal desire that burns within you.

His fingers slide below your black lace underwear until he inserts them inside you with a sly grin. You can't help but moan at the invasion, your body trembling with anticipation. He moves them in and out, hitting just the right spot, causing you to writhe beneath him.

"This is what you get," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "For. every. time. you. talked. back. to. me. today." He growls, punctuating every word with a thrust inside your pussy.

“F-Fuck A-Agust!” And holy shit does it feel so good.

As lust starts to fog your mind and the air fills with moans, you don't know what's happening to you. But you don't care. The fire inside you is burning brighter by the second, and you can't get enough of the man who's taken control of your body and mind at this moment

Yoongi places his thumb on your nub and plays with it, squishing it in circular motions, then using his finger to rub it a little faster then slowing down only to fasten the pace again. You felt a very familiar feeling boiling up in your lower belly threatening to unleash itself.

“I’m not gonna let you reach your high yet.” 

Suddenly, he removes all his fingers from you and you whimper immediately, the absence of his touch leaving you desperate for more.

Yoongi bites down against his lips, eyes quickly traveling from your face and down your body, “Huh…W-Wait..P-Please…” You pant heavily, trying to rub your thighs together to pick back up the pace that was headed toward your release

“I thought you wanted to leave me, doll?” He leans in closer, chuckling in your face, and you shake your head. At this moment, you realize that he’s hard under his dress pants. “Are you sure? I don’t give orgasms to people that won’t obey me.”

“I-I’ll prove it to you!” You drop to your knees quickly, placing your hands on both of his sides. “Oh? And how will you do that?” He gives you a curious look, already knowing what to expect from your sudden submissive behavior. While he spoke, you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his cock.

“Oh fuck…” You let out in the smallest whisper. He wasn’t long per se, but more than average. But the girth… holy shit. Will it even fit in any of your holes? And the way his precum is already pearling on his tip just from what you two did earlier? You swallow nervously, but you’re not one to back away from a challenge. “Like this.” 

You hold his cock gently from the base, proceeding to gather spit from your mouth and letting it drop on it. You proceed to move your hand, spreading his precum and your saliva on his dick, managing to get a good slide and starting to move your hand quicker. You looked up innocently, already noticing a flicker of Agust’s facade fade as he felt himself slipping away in pleasure. In his mind, he was tempted to say fuck it all and let himself fuck against your hand, but he knew better than just to let himself become an animal. After the prep, you part your mouth and slowly take him in, the stretch already starting to hurt your jaw from his wide size. In the meantime, you just suck around his head and use your hand to deliver pleasure to the rest of his shaft, earning deep-sounding curses and moans while your tongue swirled around him. 

His eyes are glued to you, watching you work his cock with your kitten-like licks. Though, this isn’t enough for him. He wants to thrust up down your throat so bad and fuck you until your voice was sore. He wants to see how much you’re willing to take in that small mouth of yours.

And that’s exactly what he does. He places his hand on your head, giving you small pats and rubs disguised as encouragement for your efforts. Then his hand starts inching towards the back of your head until he suddenly grabs a handful of your hair and forcibly pushes his dick further until your smacked against his pelvis.

“Seems like you still need practice. Don’t worry, I’ll train you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your hair as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag reflexively, but he doesn't let up, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes start to water, now holding onto his sides for dear life, but you force yourself to take it, willing your throat to open up and accommodate his girth. His palm comes up to your cheek to rub your cheek, feeling himself on the other side enter in and out of you.

He grunts with each deep thrust, his hips pistoning in and out of your mouth as you struggle to keep up with his rhythm. You feel like you're choking, but you don't want to disappoint him and prevent you from reaching your orgasm after. However, it doesn’t take long for him to come undone, swallowing saliva and cum down your throat. He removes himself and you begin to cough erratically. You have never deep-throated before, so it’s a miracle you didn’t throw up or die from this. It’s definitely not as easy as porn makes it seem. You’ve been lied to by the media! “Haah… Holy shit…” You groan, trying to catch your breath and stabilize your heart rate.

“You alright?” He questions, voice tinged with slight worry as he fixes his pants and underwear back up and leans down towards your face. “I lost myself for a bit…”

“It’s okay–” You pause, shocked for a moment to hear your voice sound hoarse. Despite that, Agust chuckles, using his palm once again to rub against your cheek to comfort you, smiling softly. “Good girl. Now you’ll get your reward.” With this, he guides you to the master bedroom, his grip on your arms firm yet careful, leading you through the opulent suite. The room is a testament to luxury, with rich, dark wood furniture that you knew Agust requested in the hotels he invests in and soft, ambient lighting that casts a warm glow over everything. The large windows offer a stunning view of the Bangkok city skyline, but your focus is solely on him.

He pushes you gently onto the king-sized bed, the plush mattress sinking beneath your weight. The silk sheets feel cool against your skin, starkly contrasting the heat building between you. Agust D stands over you, his eyes dark with desire, a predator savoring his prey.

He slowly removes his jacket, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching as he unbuttons his suit vest, followed by his shirt, revealing his semi-muscular and beefy figure beneath. You’ve never seen him like this before, as he’s a very reserved man when it comes to his body. But each inch of exposed skin sends a fresh wave of anticipation through you.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Now, let me take care of you.”

He climbs onto the bed, sitting between your legs where his hands start trailing up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. His touch is electrifying, each caress igniting a fire in your core. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of burning kisses from your collarbone to your ear.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to get enough of you.”

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, and driving you to the brink of madness. He slips the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall away completely, leaving your body exposed and vulnerable beneath him. His eyes rake over your body, a dark hunger in his gaze.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “My doll.”

He lowers himself, his mouth finding your breast, sucking and nibbling until you’re arching into him, your fingers tangled in his slick black hair. He trails kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself between your legs.

You gasp as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “Ready for your reward?” he asks, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Mm..” You only make a sound and nod due to the lust clouding your mind. How do you say words? Do words matter?

He pinches your clit slightly which makes you jump and arc your body a little.

“Words, doll.”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to finally speak out, your body wiggling around close to his face eager for him to move. 

He doesn’t hesitate after your verbal consent, his tongue flicking out to taste you from your clit down to your entrance, drawing a cry of pleasure from your lips. He works you expertly, starting with his tongue sucking against your clit, then eating you out in your entrance. 

And holy fuck does he have you wrapped around his finger with these ministrations. You had heard rumors of him being good at oral sex from the women at the events you would accompany him to, but fuck, the actual thing doesn’t compare to their mere descriptions.

His tongue soon returns to nibble and suck at your aching bud, with his fingers replacing his place inside you. And before you know it, you’re lost in the sensation again, body jerking as every nerve ending is set aflame as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

And Agust D knows it, smirking against your pussy as he feels you tighten against his fingers. “Come for me,” he growls against your skin, his voice a command that you can’t resist.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you fall apart, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. He holds you through it, his hands and mouth coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body until you’re left trembling and spent beneath him.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watches you recover. “Such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “But we’re not done.” 

He stands up and swiftly pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his cock, red and eager. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, your mind racing.

Oh? Is he going to put it in?!

“Huh? W-Wait you–”

Before you can finish speaking, he puts your legs on his shoulder and aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes locking with yours. The heat and intensity of his gaze make your heart race.

“You’re on birth control, correct?”

“Yes…”

You’d be surprised that he knows this fact, but he does look over your medical records after all. You’d also question the ethics of this, but not now.

“Then we can go all out,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “And I’ll show you that you’re truly mine.”

He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you completely.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp, the sensation is overwhelming, fueled with pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. He pauses movements for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your eyes close as you try to focus on relaxing your body.

“Look at me,” he commands suddenly, his voice low and firm as he holds your chin. “I want to see your face when I take you.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” You meet his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. There’s a primal hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up with the intensity of his pace. The feeling of him inside you is overwhelming and does not compare to his or your own fingers pleasuring you.

“Do you feel that?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper. “Do you feel how your pussy is being molded by my cock?”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. “I feel it!”

“Good,” he says, his thrusts becoming faster, more intense. “Because you won’t ever be able to be pleased by another cock as long as I live,”

His movements are relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slap of skin against skin, and the ragged gasps and moans that escape your lips. 

As your eyes meet his, he suddenly wraps his hand around your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His grip is firm but not painful, sending a rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins.

“Doll, you like being choked while I fuck you? Having you wrapped around my fingers now.”

“F-Feels so mmh good!” You mumble, your breath hitching as his grip tightens slightly, the sensation heightening the pleasure coursing through your body.

You never thought you’d be so turned on by choking. You don’t know if it’s you getting high off the lack of oxygen and feeling pleasure, or giving up your life’s control to this man before you that has your toes curling.

The pleasure builds up to an unbearable peak once more, but this time, you know that he is feeling the same thing too. His thrusts become harder, more forceful, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hand on your neck adds an edge to the sensation od dominance and possessiveness that leaves you breathless.

“Come for me, doll,” he growls, his voice a command that you can’t ignore. “I want to feel you come around me as I do at the same time.”

With a final, shuddering cry, your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing in pleasure. He follows you soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you, his own release mingling with yours. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looks down at you with a smile that exposes his gums. He lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a tender, possessive kiss. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, the words a promise and a declaration.

“You’re mine,” he repeats. “I’ll never let you leave.”

At that moment, as you lie there in his arms, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t want him to. The world outside may be complicated and uncertain, but here, with him, everything feels right.

This is your home.

All you want is for this man to be infatuated with you for the rest of your life.

This is how things should be. Right?

–

– tbc?

✨ let me know ur thoughts! how are you feeling?! ✉️

[sttoru]

hueheueheu if its okay can i req rich bf aventurine? Always spoiling reader and buys everything she wants 🥹🥹

✸ SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend, aventurine spoils you in more ways than one when you come back to your shared hotel room in penacony.

note. uhh, this actually turned out a tad more melodramatic than i expected help, i put some of my own twists in there. first aventurine fic so sorry if its too ooc !

tags. aventurine x female reader. fluff, bits of angst, suggestive. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty’. use of aventurine’s real name once. reader is a bit insecure at one point. little bits of penacony and aventurine lore / subtle spoiler to the 2.1 quest. wc: 1.4k-ish

“c’mere, pretty.” aventurine’s voice soothes your weary body the moment you step into your shared hotel room. you’ve just gotten back from some business you had to take care of—a couple hours of your valuable day wasted because of it.

you’re greeted by your lover sitting on one of the red couches, accompanied by various bags and boxes all around the space. aventurine shoots you his signature smile. one that’s actually genuine. the one he only shows you.

“must’ve been tough, hm? i’m sorry i couldn’t help you out,” the blonde man sighs as he stands up to meet you halfway. a gloved hand finds its way onto yours, fingers intertwining without wasting a second.

aventurine places a delicate kiss on your palm and slowly moves down to your wrist. his beautiful eyes lure you in, “you’d forgive me for that, right?”

you don’t realise that you’re practically frozen in place until he chuckles in amusement. you snap out of it and clear your throat, trying to get yourself together, “y-yeah. i understand you’re busy ‘n all. it’s no problem.”

aventurine hums in response. there’s a faint flash of guilt in his eyes before it disappears like it was never there. like it was a delusion. well, perhaps it was. staying in penacony for too long causes you to have difficulties differing reality from dreams and vice versa.

“i’m happy to have you back with me,” aventurine pulls you closer by the small of your back. he presses you against him until your chests are touching. his breath is pleasantly warm against your bare skin, “i’ve been waiting for you all day.”

the tension in the hotel room is heavy. it’s like this every time you’re with your lover. the spark never dies between you two. it never will. you both need each other, in unspoken ways.

you avert your gaze to the ground. no matter how much time you spend with aventurine, his affectionate gestures never fail to make you melt into a puddle. maybe it’s in those eyes of his. or in his homelike touch.

aventurine continues peppering you with kisses. he doesn’t miss a spot—every patch of skin you’re showing is showered in his love. that’s one of the only ways he can illustrate those complicated feelings inside of him.

his lips eventually find yours, like a force drawn to a magnet. you cup his face and deepen the kiss. your lips move in sync, slowly and passionately. you need this as much as he does.

the way he’s holding onto your coat—his fingers digging into the material as if he’s missed you greatly. . . his tongue trying to seek entrance into your mouth as if he can’t wait to be one with you. to try and love you like you love him. . .

a light hearted chuckle makes you pull away. you open your eyes and find aventurine grinning down at you, his finger rubbing your bottom lip gently to tease you.

“haha, how cute.” the blonde man snickers at your needy expression. he knows what you want, and he wants it as well, though there’s enough time for that after, “we can get to that later, yeah?”

"aww, 'kay,” you nod with a pout, to which aventurine responds by gently flicking your forehead. he grabs your hand and leads you to the nearby table. you can’t even see the surface because of the numerous boxes placed on it.

“i want to show you what i got you first,” aventurine continues, sitting down on the comfy couch. he pulls you onto his lap and wraps one arm around your waist, the other one reaching out towards the mountain of fancy gifts.

you can easily recognise the expensive bags by now. aventurine is known for spoiling you rotten. the overpriced brands are nothing but child's play to the lucky man. money isn’t a worry to him, nor should it be for you, as he says every time you feel the slightest bit guilty for his big spendings on you.

“kakavasha..” you mutter under your breath. aventurine doesn't respond, but he reassures you by lightly tightening his grip on your waist. you turn your head and look at him. he isn’t looking back at you this time. rather, he’s looking down at the box in your hand, patiently waiting for you to open it.

you wordlessly undo the wrappers and open up the first gift of many. it’s an earring. one that resembles his. it shines brightly once you pick it up. the color is beautiful, as it reminds you of your lover.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t want to guess how much aventurine has spent on it either. you love him, that you surely do, but are you really deserving of this much? he spoils you every day. all that money he spends on you without hesitation makes you overthink.

you shake your head and try to get those negative thoughts out of your head. you don’t want to ruin this precious moment all too much. you smile fondly and put the earring on, “thank you so much. it's so pretty.”

the jewelry dangles off your left ear, the opposite of where aventurine’s got his hanging. the blonde man silently admires you. the light illuminating the stones gives you an ethereal look. especially in a dimly lit room with only a few light sources.

“no need to thank me, baby,” aventurine murmurs, his voice a surprisingly soft whisper. his thumb trails down the shell of your ear and eventually touches the earring again. the fact that you’re wearing the exact same one as he is, but on the opposite ear, is doing indescribable things to him.

you complete each other.

all his life, aventurine has never properly taken the time to appreciate his gift; his luck. he is doing so now—with you in his embrace. it’s like his surroundings have come to a halt. all that his eyes are focusing on, is you. the image of you in his arms.

“it suits you perfectly.” aventurine’s voice trembles lightly. he doesn't know why he's feeling like this. he’s overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have someone so breath-takingly beautiful in his presence. “gorgeous—you’re gorgeous.”

aventurine is not the only one who’s flustered. your own heart is pounding in your chest. your lover knows just what buttons to push to make you all flustered. he succeeds without fail every single time.

you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his torso. aventurine welcomes the affection without a word. you look up at your partner with a softened expression before complimenting him back, “no, you are. you are beautiful."

aventurine’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips parting. you’s aware of the effects your compliments have on him. they make him feel giddy, however he also isn’t the best at expressing that. he regains his composure and grins, “oh, really? hah, how flattering.”

you giggle quietly and nod. you’re content with this. being in your lover’s arms after a rough day, unpacking the many gifts he got you, receiving his attention and affection. you wish you could do this for eternity.

after you’ve shared your precious moment together, aventurine leans agains the back of the couch and pulls you into a warm hug. one you both simply had to have. your lover starts to pat your head in a soothing manner.

the silence in the hotel room is deafening. the opened gifts and abandoned wrappers lay scattered around the table and floor. the static of the television in the distance is somehow comforting.

both aventurine and you realise that this instant will be over as soon as the next day arrives. it’s but a fleeting moment, one that will sooner or later be just another memory. you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and he answers this by kissing your forehead. his lips leave a tingling sensation on your skin.

the comfortable silence continues for a couple seconds more. aventurine stares up at the ceiling. he’s sure that he’s satisfied for now, yet there’s still unease boiling in the pit of his stomach.

perhaps it’s due to his knowledge of the near future. his grande plan.

but, that’s not what’s important. not when aventurine can feel and hear your heartbeat right next to him. he hasn’t lost it all. not yet. he’s still got time to spend with the other gift that was bestowed upon him at birth: you.

“you’ll stay with me, right? no matter what.”

aventurine’s sudden question breaks the quiet atmosphere. you open your eyes again and tilt your head back, gazing down at your lover. one look at his face and you know that he needs your honesty at the moment. more than anything else in the entire universe.

you nod and lean in to kiss him—to show him that you mean it when you say; “yes. no matter what.”

[peachyforthis]

How genshin men would realise they have a crush on you

Featuring: Neuvillette, Lyney, Wriothesley

Uploading the gifs for some reason took significant time out of my life but here it is ^^

All gifs are by me unless credited at bottom

Neuvillette

Would be so busy in his day to day responsibilities in being the Chief Justice that at first he might not notice you hanging around his office more frequently than others.

But he would appreciate your presence and will to help whenever you saw his loads of work, meanwhile trying to remain professional at first but gradually would warm up to you and tell you his secret and his dragon tales.

It would be at one particular day where he was dejected from a long and emotional trial, and upon arriving in his office noticed your prepared dish of his favourite soup placed carefully on his desk, with a handwritten note stating, “Sorry had to leave a bit earlier. Hope this makes your day better :)”

Neuvillette, at first, wouldn’t understand the warm feeling in his chest… but the weight would hit him shortly as the sky starts to become cloudy, confirming his heart heavy with realization.

“Is this how human feelings are like?”

Lyney

Gradually notices you being a top regular in his shows, attending almost every one of it. Honestly, you caught his eye at first being so pretty and lively.

He doesn’t know how it actually progressed, but he would have this extra air of pride around him whenever your expression shined, or you cheered in the audience at his many magic tricks.

One day, he announces a special performance and asks for volunteers and you happily raise your hand. This, of course, he could never reject and invites you on stage.

Performs a complex but well executed magic trick on you which makes you amused and laugh appreciatively at his talent.

Lyney finally understands now why he needed your approval, as he smiles and bows at you, returning your admiration.

“So this is the magical moment I’ve been waiting for.”

Wriothesley

Would start to enjoy conversing with you, an officer from the Palais Mermonia, sent to help Wriothesley on an exclusive project in the Fortress of Meropide for some months.

Whenever you had to go above ground to submit the progress reports, Wriothesley would silently miss your presence beside him… the two of you drinking tea and bantering at the end of the day. He has admired how you aren’t afraid of him and are brave to always speak your mind and rightfully criticise him occasionally.

Realises how much he really has started to like your company when you return after a few days with a box of special tea leaves just for him, saying how you extended your stay by cleverly convincing the project management above.

Is fully in awe and entertained by your slight cunning tricks and wonders if you also feel the same affection for him after all.

“Well… this just complicates things,” he wonders as he watches you fondly across his table, while you giddily prepare a new tea flavour for him… oblivious to his self confession.

A/N: Also can you tell my undying love for Neuvillette? but Wrio too is just divine lol

Reblogs would be very appeciated ^^ thank you

[meow-xine]

Ohhh I am so obsessed with him 😫

Shota Aizawa x Fem reader

Cw: smut, some plot… oral (F! receiving)

Background: Aizawa is your husband but you haven’t seen him in WEEKS due to him being caught up in work.

Shota has just been so busy as of late. Truth be told, with the two of you sharing so many aspectual responsibilities – many stemming from Shota’s job, you had felt a strain on your relationship. Shota rarely had time for you anymore, him spending more time now than ever at work, trying to make sense of villain attacks and dorms. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks, the only interaction being a text or a late night call. Of course you kept yourself busy, going to work during the day then occupying yourself with small things around the house; cleaning, crafts. No matter how much you distracted yourself though, there was no way to stop the yearning for your husband. You knew it was necessary, and you would in no way ever try to stop him from doing what he needed to, but you just wish he could take one day off. Life just hadn’t been the same.

“I just miss you so much.” you sobbed into the phone resting next to you, laying down curled over a pillow. This had become a sort of routine, Shota calling you up later than he should, knowing that you would be awake and expecting to hear from him. “I know, I miss you too. It’s.. it’s just been so complicated trying to balance everything. Know that if I could come home to you I would.” He sighed. It wasn’t much easier on him, and you knew that. You often found yourself getting off the phone feeling more guilty than anything. He had a lot on his plate, and you were sure your complaining wasn’t of much help. There was just something about the late night that seeped into your words, taking control and slurring your speech. You weren’t used to staying up so late.

“I’m sorry baby.. I just don’t feel good without you here. It’s too quiet and dull.” you continued your earlier recurring thought. Silence interrupted by your small hiccups filled the air. It was stagnant and dense, but not uncomfortable. “You know it breaks my heart to hear you like that honey.” He interrupted the silence, followed by a sigh. “I’ll do what I can to see you as soon as possible.” he continued. “You promise?” “I promise. Now get some sleep love, it’s late.” And with that you hung up and fell asleep, remaining in the same curled position. 

That was two weeks ago, and since then you had been carefully watching the news reports and attacks against both Shota and his students. It was scary stuff and you constantly had to remind yourself that he would be okay– that they would all be okay. Even with reminders though, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and out of control, sometimes forgetting to breathe until Shota got a break on TV. You followed up with texts and phone calls afterwards too, needing more than just a digital image showing he was safe. 

Finally, amongst the sea of phone calls you had gotten, it was your husband.

“[Name]? Baby?” it was Shota, he sounded happier than he had in a while and you swore you could feel his smile through the phone. “Hi Sho, I’m here. How are things going?” you smiled too, not being able to contain yourself after hearing him. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Things are going good, especially today. I rarely ever take time off work so it was pointed out that I am long overdue for some PTO.” “Oh yay! Do you know when exactly you might be getting some days?” You stood up from the couch you were sitting on in your shared home. “Well…” He started, but before he could finish his sentence the doorbell rang. “Oh, I’m sorry, give me one moment, someone’s at the door..” He chuckled, “Sure.”

You made your way to the door making sure to hold your phone to your chest before answering. Upon opening the door, the phone in your hand was long forgotten, falling to the floor. It was Shota on the other side, lazily holding his phone to his ear. He hung up and opened his arms, allowing you to run into them.

“You’re here! Oh I’ve missed you so much.. I wish you would have told me you were coming ,I would have worn something nicer.” You rambled feeling embarrassed for just wearing one of his shirts and PJ shorts. Not leaving enough time for you to finish a thought, Shota wrapped his arms around you, one snaking around your waist and the other rubbing your back. “Hi baby..” 

You released yourself from his embrace, taking a moment to look at his face and notice the small differences. He looked tired and weary, no thanks to the battles he had endured. Despite everything, it was still your Shota standing in front of you. Your eyes moved down to his lips and before you could think you were all over them. You pulled back, apologizing, “Oh! Sorry,” you knelt down to pick up some of his bags, “let’s let you get settled in first.” 

The two of you carried his bags to your bedroom, placing them on the floor. Before Shota made an effort to unpack, he walked over to you and brought you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last. One of his hands was wrapped warmly against your head, bringing you closer to his chest. You inhaled, making a mental note to lock his sweet musk scent away for when he inevitably had to leave again. “I missed you so much baby, you have no idea.” he spoke, his voice soft and gravelly. 

You loosely pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, one of your hands holding his cheek and his hands still lingering low around your waist. “I missed you too Sho. It felt impossible without you here. I’m just so happy you’re okay.” He smiled down at you and planted a small kiss on your lips. He deepened the kiss, disentangling your entire being yet somehow making you feel more full than you ever had all at once. His hand was now placed against the nape of your neck, all the while slowly backing you up into the nearest wall. 

Once you felt your back touch the wall you couldn’t help but break free of the kiss and gasp, being too entranced to notice the position you were in until now. Shota wasted no time in returning to the kiss, using the hand on your neck to bring you closer to him. The two of you melted into the kiss, a mix of small groans and whines left Shota’s mouth as he lost himself in you. He broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to look at you beneath his frame before speaking, “Baby I need you right now..” he groaned, searching for approval in your eyes. You displayed agreement through a nod and took a step forward. Shota, before beginning to take off your clothes, gently let his hands run across your body longer than he needed to. It had been so long since he had been able to feel your skin underneath him, he wanted to savor it. 

He took off your shirt, admiring what was underneath as he lifted it above your head. Once he discarded it to the side, he worked on removing your bra. You were now completely bare from the waist up and your dark haired husband couldn’t help but stare. “Oh I’ve missed you so much.” He lowered his earlier kisses down to the side of your neck, bending his knees as he moved down to kiss your exposed breasts, one hand massaging the other as he worked. You let out soft moans, the pleasure slowly surging through you. It was more intense than usual, it had felt like eons since you had been touched by him, yet it seemed he still knew exactly how to please you. 

‘C’mere baby,” he led you to your shared bed, sitting you on the edge. You were almost laying down, your elbows propped up stopping you from doing so. Shota got down to his knees in front of you, sliding his hands on either side of your thighs and he slid your shorts off, your panties being the only remaining article. Upon seeing your wetness seeping through the cloth, Shota chuckled  “Awh baby, you’re soaked.” He looked up at you with lust clouded eyes. “Let me touch you, please love.” It took you a moment to fully process and respond to him, you were far too distracted by the sight of your usually dominant husband kneeling before you, so undone. “Yes-yeah, of course you can.” you responded after far too long of a pause. 

He returned one of his hands to its earlier position, slid against your thigh only now massaging you slowly. His other hand moved up slowly to your clothed pussy and you gasped when you felt him touch you. He used his hands to spread your legs open and teased small traces along your inner thighs, moving his face closer. You shivered as you felt the warmth of his breath close in. He planted a trail of the most gentle kisses up your thighs, pausing once he got just close enough to make you antsy. You whimpered, “please Sho..need you..”

“You know I can’t say no when you ask like that.” he smirked, then slid your panties off, gliding a finger down your slit. He inched his face closer, attaching his mouth to your clit after a few small licks. The wave of pleasure crashed down on you all at once, “Oh Sho…” you moved your hands to grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Once his gentle demeanor faded, he was devouring you like a madman, groaning and mumbling into your arousal. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this..” he lazily groused, slipping two fingers into you. He curled them up into you, the sheer amount of unfamiliar pleasure was almost overstimulating.

Your grip on his hair tightened, indicating he must have been doing something right. He paused to look up at you, “Yeah? You like that? ‘Course you do..” he trailed off, his mouth finding you again. Your nerves heated your entire body, that combined with the growing knot in your belly was enough to push you over the edge. You bucked your hips, now riding his fingers more than anything. He pulled his face up to look at you again. “Oh baby you look so pretty coming undone f’me right now.” his fingers sped up reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. “So pretty.”

“I’m- fuck.. M’ so close Sho..” you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Rolling your hips at the same speed his fingers were fucking you, you couldn’t help but toss your head back in satisfaction, your release smashing against you. “That’s it baby.. good girl..” Shota spoke, his fingers never once slowing until you were worn out. You whined due to the absence that filled you as he removed his digits. 

He stood up, looming over your relaxed frame. He knelt down to kiss your forehead, grabbing one of your hands to help you sit upright. “You did so good baby.. So good.” He sat next to you, stroking your hair. “Oh I love you Shota, so much.” you whined into him. ”I love you too [Name].” He smiled, honestly not wanting to get up. “Now let's get you cleaned up, it’s late.”

“What about you though? I feel bad not returning anything..” You said, feeling a mix of pleasure and guilt all in one go. “Don’t worry about me, we have plenty of time.” Shota responded. He walked to the bathroom, starting a hot bath with a mix of calming oils; then returned to you and brought you to the tub.

The two of you were slipped in you got comfortable in the middle of his legs, your back resting against his chest. “I love you Shota.” you closed your eyes, feeling relaxed enough to go to sleep right in the tub.

He wrapped his arms around your torso. “I love you too, [Name].”

[queer-obsession]

Just a small drabble. Kenma has a high maintenance girlfriend and has no idea (read: he doesn't care and thinks you're way too amazing for him). Song below makes me think of the dynamic

Warnings: Kenma x Fem!Reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, you're into your appearance and typical "feminine" things (by heteronormative standards) in this one, you are just mentioned in this, not actually in it. it's more of a conversation between kenma and kuroo, sorry. really short, i could expand the concept into a fic in the future.

Kuroo looks over Kenma's shoulder to see what's distracting him from Kuroo's riveting story of his last business trip and is surprised to see Kenma confirming an online order. "Buying a new game?" Kuroo asks with a grin.

Kenma rolls his eyes and leans away from him in response. "No. I ordered a new bag for ____ ." His tone suggests it's nothing out of the ordinary, and it isn't, but it still causes Kuroo to raise an eyebrow.

"She's kinda high maintenance, huh?" Kuroo comments his thoughts out loud.

Kenma scrunches his face up as he looks at Kuroo like he's stupid. "No."

Kuroo pauses for a moment and just blinks because Kenma is not naive or oblivious. In fact, he's able to read people almost freakishly well because of his anxious obsession of staying a head of people so they can't catch him off guard and humiliate him or something. There is no way Kenma is oblivious to your tendencies. "You're buying her another handbag..." Kuroo says slowly.

Kenma grunts in response and looks back at his phone. "A tote bag," He mutters the correction. "And I'm buying her it because she carries so much shit in her bag it hurts her shoulders. This is supposed to be internally padded without it being noticeable."

"And...you don't think that's...high maintenance?" Kuroo inquires as if speaking to a child.

Kenma huffs in annoyance and looks up at Kuroo again. "No. She's easier to please than my cat."

Now Kuroo is seriously confused. "What?"

Kenma looks at him like he's stupid again. Kuroo feels like he's on the outside of some inside joke. "I bought her a year's worth of nail sets for valentine's day and she was skipping places for the next week," Kenma tells him bluntly. "She's so easy to please, it's ridiculous."

Kuroo looks at him in bewilderment. "Kenma, she gets a new nail set every month and she hardly ever wears the same outfit twice. She gets embarrassed if someone sees her when she's not fully done up."

Kenma purses his lips. "Yeah. She likes when people admire her," He tells Kuroo as if it's obvious. Kuroo is genuinely so lost right now. "That's not high maintenance, it's easy to understand. If she was super complicated to read and clingy, and nothing pleased her then she'd be high maintenance. She's not any of that."

Huh, Kuroo never really thought about it like that, but he supposes it makes sense for a guy like Kenma. He likes things straightforward and he appreciates people who understand him and his need for solitude. You're straightforward in what you want, you don't expect Kenma to make himself uncomfortable to please you by demanding he takes you places or anything, and you're fine to give him alone time since you like alone time too. Kuroo supposes you being a little materialistic and into your appearance doesn't bother Kenma since it's simple and he seems to be able to understand it, which is all he cares about.

And, now that Kuroo thinks about it, it's not like you ask for Kenma to do any of the things he does. You were into fashion and being done up long before you met Kenma, to the point that Kenma didn't believe you were into him for a while because you seemed so out of his league. It's not like you sought Kenma out because you wanted a guy to pay for your nails. Ever since Kuroo has met you you've had a new nail set every month, happily showing it off. Now, Kenma pays for it though, and he almost looks as happy as you do when you show off your new set to him. Maybe that's what Kenma meant. You are pretty easy to please in that regard and maybe Kenma likes pleasing you, and seeing remnants of it whenever you wear something he bought you or have a new hair style he payed for. Kenma isn't good with words, but he's decent with actions. Maybe he likes that he can please you so easily with actions.

Kuroo smiles at his friend and chuckles to himself. "Well, whatever you say, Kynma. She's your girl."

Kenma scrunches up his nose and turns back to his phone. "Don't call me that."

[remxedmoon]

You should tell us about color psychology that sounds cool as hell

YES… HA HA HA… YES!

GGGOD I WISH I WASN’T OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. but i’ve been thinking about colors literally all day so you all get to be subject to my madness! sorry this is long and rambly wauaua. nightmarishly long post under the cut.

okay. first things first, a few basics. color theory and color psychology tend to get confused a lot in discussions, but they usually refer to different things. color theory is more about we physically perceive colors (color wheels and color schemes the like), while color psychology focuses on our emotional response to colors. if you’re familiar with the children’s hospital color theory post, that poster wasn’t actually talking about color theory, but color psychology (and also it’s incredibly surface level and heavily misunderstands the subject because in what fucking universe does the quantity of positive associations with a color matter more than the context it’s used in and sorry i have personal beef with this tumblr post).

color theory is also a special interest of mine but i’m not gonna touch on it too much here because it’s not entirely important. mmmaybe another time…

essentially, certain colors (and color combinations) have associations in our brains and that affect our behavior and emotions. these associations are also very much affected by the context a color is used in. colors don’t exist in a vacuum! so while red can symbolize passion and love when used in something like a dress or a bouquet of flowers, it has a very different connotation when it’s, say, splattered on the walls or smeared on the ground in a snail trail.

or for a less Children’s Hospital Themed example, i’ll put my euphrasie and king designs here!

(of course the saturation and brightness of these blues play a massive part in how they’re perceived but this is not a post about color theory this is n)

and, of course, combining colors in a piece can also change their meanings!! i’m about to get real fucking normal.

i’m gonna be focusing on the color combo of red and yellow here because it’s the one that’s most relevant to my art (and also it’s really interesting.) basically, seeing these two colors together activates the part of our brain that controls our appetite, making us actually feel hungry. this is why so many food companies use red and yellow in their branding! it’s neat stuff!!

also, if you’re familiar with it, this is why the mv for butcher vanity uses this color palette!! along with red’s general associations with danger and blood, the color combo also physically induces hunger. pretty fitting for a song about cannibalism!

(there is also red’s association with lust and passion and how that intersects with the double meaning in the lyrics but i cannot derail this post into being an analysis of butcher vanity i’m sorry. we’d be here all week. maybe another day... wipes a tear from my eye)

and i think this might be the reason why some people feel hungry when they see my art, even when i’m not drawing food. while i don’t tend to use red outright, most of my art has very warm undertones (red-oranges and yellows especially), which could be activating that hunger response??

(ah fuck color theory managed to weasel its way into this post again)

admittedly this part is just speculation on my end. i think my rendering style and Shapes also play a role in it, but it’s interesting for me to think about!!

this is only scratching the surface of how complicated colors can get. i was going to go on an entire tangent about color grading and how green lighting can make a scene feel unnerving but this post is already Too Fucking Long. aaaa super sorry if this is Rambly or hard to understand!! i’m not Entirely sure how much the average person knows about color theory and psychology so if there’s any confusing terms here i’m fine with adding stuff for clarity!

wauauuaa thank you so much for asking!!!! i love talking about colors.

tl;dr colors have a bunch of different emotions and meanings tied to them, but you’ve gotta pay attention to the context in which it’s being used. so maybe take a step back before you put that thick red trail on the floor of your children’s hospital.