#that was before i had to pause for Health Reasons

[zeawesomebirdie]

Oh my god okay hi i havent been online bc ive been reading On Writing by Stephen King and omg okay, i feel so much better about my drafts now

[loverboybrightsideghost]

they should invent a me that's good at everything i want to be good at. [thing from the addams family pokes out of a nearby box and hands me a piece of paper] thank you, thing. what's this...oh! why, it's a paper that says i have to be the one to do that for my future self! huh.

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and his segments get a taste of their own medicine after giving you a job of your own. (In other words, you ignore their need for attention in favor of your work, they get pouty, just like you did.)

As of late, a peculiar sight had made its way into the lab. Actually, peculiar wasn't even strong enough of a word for the agents to use. They had nearly tripped over their feet once they saw the new area of their working quarters in the lab.

In addition to their Lord Harbinger's desk (that was shared amongst the segments depending on the day), there was now another desk on the opposite side of the room, and the cute decorations on it were quite noticeable. Photo frames and stationery. A comfortable and plush chair with a blanket that dropped over it.

... A plushie version of the Harbinger that laid on Dottore's desk, commissioned by you to motivate him.

(A side thought - the number of desks the Doctor had was something to wonder about. One in the lab, one in the office, one in the bedroom - no wonder things were always scattered around the place. But that was something for another day...)

And most importantly, you, Dottore's spouse, standing next to their Lord, rocking back on your heels nervously as he introduced you as their new co-worker.

—

It all began when you approached your husband with a very simple request.

"Dottie, I want a job!" You said with enthusiasm, smile as wide and proud as ever. The scientist paused his work and turned to look at you with a blank expression.

"... A job, you say?" You only puffed your chest out more at his confirmation.

"Yes, a job. I mean, being your lover is already a lot of work for my poor back, but I want to actually work with you! With your research and stuff, like the old days!" Your excitement was completely serious and were it not for your health, it would have been infectious for the scholar. Rarely did he ever meet anyone who was truly interested in his work. But of course, certain restrictions have held you back for a long time now.

"We've already been over this. My work is too dangerous for you," the Doctor sighed as he turned back around to continue whatever he was doing.

"I know, I know, but I meant other kinds of stuff. I've been thinking like... a desk job! It doesn't have to be anything dangerous! I could... sort papers for you? Oh, and you have one of those fancy stamps, right? I could stamp them too! I could rewrite your notes... ah, and the best part - I could help you write reports too! You always liked my essays, didn't you?" You were doing your best to provide Dottore with a convincing case, snuggling up against his firm back. Only another sigh escaped your husband, not really that convinced.

"Come on..." you inhaled his familiar scent, tinged with that laboratory smell that never seemed to go away, but somehow brought comfort to you. "I've been so bored lately... and lonely," you muttered the last part pointedly. "I just want some work to take my mind off things!"

Indeed, there was always limited entertainment and pastimes to occupy yourself with. It was especially boring on days you couldn't get out of bed, or when no segment could afford you attention...

"And you know what, I could give those agents of yours some writing tips, too!"

Yes, there had been many times his employees were not up to his standards, despite how many of them fawned over him (for some odd reason)...

"And I'll be helping you too! It's good for everyone."

Of course, you always felt rather good about yourself if you managed to help him, being the Second Harbinger and all...

"I suppose I shall give it some thought-" Before the man could finish his sentence you started squeezing him tightly while hopping in delight.

"Oh, thank you! So, when do I start? Do I get one of your huge desks too?"

"I didn't say yes yet, darling."

"Shh... we both know what you mean!"

—

And that was how you now clocked in at "work" every day with the agents (later than normal, but you had special privileges.) It was daunting at first for the poor souls, even the ones who secretly admired you from afar (being in the fan club and all.) Even though initially you were merely sorting papers, you were the most important person in that room.

However, soon enough, going to work in this dreary lab became a lot more cheery thanks to your sweet demeanor. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a lot less tense since the last time the segments visited.

The agents had little to no problem speaking to you like a normal person, after you had graciously given them tips on impressing the Harbinger.

"Psst..." you were hovering behind an unsuspecting agent, reading the report she had for Dottore, who jumped at your whisper. "You know, he might click his tongue if you give him that." Although her mask covered her face, you could see that half surprised at how you popped out of nowhere, and half agreeing with your words. Perhaps she felt comfortable enough to spill the situation to you.

"I-I am well aware of that," she deeply sighed, "but no matter what I write, my Lord always seems to be unsatisfied..." You patted her shoulder in sympathy. Having worked with Dottore since the Akademiya days, you knew very well of his distaste for certain things.

"Well, that's why I was hired, friend! To make his and your life easier! See, look here, that's a no-no, he wouldn't appreciate those details, mhm, but this needs to be elaborated on more, uh huh..." Of course, being the good spouse and employee you were, the report was converted into the best one that had ever landed on the Doctor's desk.

On your lunch break, they provided you with some juicy gossip about anything they could get their hands on (the fan club had long reaches, apparently.) Frequently you had to debunk things about Dottore... (the handbook was swiftly revised.)

Needless to say, things seemed to be going well. You looked happier. Motivated. Having new "friends" as your company (that still watched their mouth around you after a single glance from the segments.)

However... an issue arose after a while. One that seemed entirely stupid and impossible.

Now that you were so caught up in your work, when the segments finally had some spare time to come to you, they were... rejected. Yes, they had come to you, fully expecting your devoted attention and kisses that you always gave them without hesitation, but now turned away. (Even more embarrassing, sometimes in front of the agents who kept their eyes glued to their strange chemicals.)

—

It was Omega, of all segments, who was turned away first. The most confident and charming of the bunch left uncharacteristically silent. He had come up behind you and traced his hands against your neck, always being the one who had no shame in touching you. You only softly giggled at the sensation and caught his hand in yours.

"It seems you've been busy for a while, dear." In truth, it was mostly you seeking him out and not vice versa, but the segment hadn't seen you invading his office in a while. The space had gotten too quiet without you.

"Mhm! But I can't imagine how much work you do. My desk is nowhere as cluttered as yours," you smiled as you felt the segment kiss your lashes.

"What do you say to a break with me?" Omega offered, already knowing what your eager response would be.

"Nah, I can't right now."

...

Your words took a few seconds to process through his head.

"Pardon?"

"I have all this work, 'Mega, and other people need my help," you shrugged your shoulders as you swung your legs. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can spend some time later!" You kissed him on the cheek and pulled your chair in before continuing your work.

Omega, the greatest segment, was reduced to a blankly staring man who had been deprived of his lover's attention for the first time.

He was irritable for the rest of the day.

—

Beta was next, the poor thing.

You were always the one he blew off steam to, always willing to listen about his gripes and complaints, offering him consolation in the form of kisses and soft words.

However, you hadn't come to visit in so long, the segment was all pent up and now the agents were beginning to fall victim to him.

Fine then - he'd seek you out. Not because he needed you or missed you or anything of the sort. You were just... halting his progress with the lack of your presence. Yes, that was it.

And so the scientist, donning his grand pink bow tie, swung by your desk.

"So this is where you've been? How boring." Beta was not a segment that you'd want to do paperwork. He much preferred to be hands-on.

"Ah, Beta!" You brightened in delight at seeing one of your lovers. "I missed you!" At least you were always honest about your feelings.

... But to cut a long story short, Beta faced the same conundrum that Omega did.

Someone got turned into a floating Ruin Machine that day.

—

By now all the segments had experienced being turned away from work. Alpha's signature scowl had become permanent. Zandy was pouting the whole day as he missed his parent. Foxttore kept to himself with a pathetic sopping wet eye. His segments were fighting with each other inside his mind, a great nuisance.

All because you were too absorbed with your work to pay them any attention.

... The Doctor was now realizing that it sounded like a very familiar tune sung by you. So this was what you felt for days on end? Now, it was easier for him to understand why you were always upset if you were ignored too much.

Still, it was mortifyingly embarrassing that his segments were reduced to this pitiful state just because you rejected cuddles a few times. Regardless, it was up to him to solve the issue. After all... he missed you too. He wanted you to be around him more often again.

And so the Doctor made his way to his beloved.

There you were, all cozy on your seat as you sorted through some papers. Really, he had no clue you'd be this productive, to be honest. At least it was proof that your health hadn't gotten worse, considering how well you were handling this.

"Aren't you the one who kept saying to take breaks?" His voice made you jump a bit, having not heard him walk up.

"It's you, Dottie! I was wondering when you'd come around. And of course, I take breaks, Dottore. I have lunch with the other agents!" Ah, another party that's been hogging your attention.

"You know, this job has been pretty fun, Dottore! Everyone's real nice, we make jokes, I get to write about interesting things..." You continued to go on about the research and while usually he'd be intrigued by your findings, this time he had enough.

Dottore picked you up like a long cat as you squealed from the sudden grasping.

"What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," was his cut and dry response as he lifted you into his arms.

"B-But I have to work on the big report for Pantalone!" Dottore's eye twitched at the mention of the banker.

"Someone else can."

"But I-"

"I'm not listening to anything you say further," he plainly said as he walked with you cuddled into his chest as you gawked at him.

Could he be... jealous? A wee bit lonely? You kept your guesses to yourself as he eventually bought you back to his room and laid you on his bed, not even saying anything to you before sitting at his desk.

Did he simply miss your presence that much? You felt a bit bad neglecting your lovers that much. But to be fair, they kinda did the same... sometimes. You got up to console your silly husband, who was just a man in your hands.

"Hey... I missed you too, dear husband... but I had to make sure no one stole the title of best assistant from me!" Dottore only sighed at your foolishness.

Of course no one could ever replace you.

"I know you'd rather die than admit it... but don't worry. You're lucky I'm sensitive to your feelings," you teased as you kissed the top of his mask. "I'll pay more attention to you and the segments, before they cause another headache for you, love. You'll give me some vacation time off, right?"

You laughed at your own joke before Dottore pulled you into his lap, biting down hard on your neck.

—

"Beloved, would you care to join me in discussing your work?"

"You fool, they're obviously coming to my lab to activate a new Ruin Machine."

"But [Name] is supposed to play with me today!!"

"As if, they're far too busy to join you all with your silly games."

"You all will stress them out with this arguing. Now, why don't you join me for a cup of coffee instead?"

"Grr, gr gr, grr!"

It was good to be loved so deeply.

[heartthrobxhook]

Killian did observe how the other man sipped and appreciated the taste of the brandy where he had not. It was a deliciously rich drink with a sweetness that brandy was known for. Not all that special to him though. "We drink for two very different reasons." He informed the other as he set his glass down.

The story of how James rose to Commodore was quite the detailed one. Hearing of his accomplishments against pirates throughout the years left Killian with a neutral expression as he listened. They were impressive yes, but events that he had heard of and were massive blows to pirates. It seems they were both familiar with one another's reputation without knowing who had been behind it.

"Seems I've done these waters a favor putting an end to the scourge of piracy. Best you not to go sharing that in any ports we stop at, I'm sure there's plenty out there who'd want to slit your throat." Killian warned knowing that other pirates wouldn't hesitate to kill the man before him.

"The colonies..." He scoffs "Reminds me of the great roman empire, conquering lands and growing so large that it all collapses. What England wants is to control the world, the Order that we had been taught is not to create peace it's about controlling people. They don't want the masses to have free will." Killian reached for the bottle and refilled both their glasses with the dark reddish brown liquid. "Even with your promotion you were still just as trapped as the slaves in shackles."

Killian pauses to lift his glass, giving it a small swirl and taking the time to appreciate the taste with a slow sip. It was tastier than he had ititially thought as he had drank his first two quickly. "All pirates are different and have their own ways of going about things. But the one thing we all agree on is freedom. No one is ruled here, I am captain not because I wanted the position but because they chose me to lead them." He took another sip and stared at the brandy as he thought back to when he lost everything he held dear to his heart.

"I don't know how I survived that storm, but I ended on an island where these pirates took me in and nursed me back to health. This was an that you could not leave, you could sail in any direction away from it and as soon as it disappeared behind you it would reappear in front of you. They had been trapped for ages trying to find a means of escape and I helped them for what felt like ten years to find a way to leave. A heist to steal a magic bean from a flying boy to take us away from Neverland, the island where you never grow old." He uses his hook to move around the charts and pushes the one of Neverland towards James to look at. "Without me they'd still be trapped there. I saved them and they made me captain. They are my family that took me in and I take care of them in return. All this treasure you see, it's everyone's equally. I buy them the best supplies and stock my ship with good food, whatever they want or need I provide. We just plunder more than we can spend."

James observed Killian’s casual confidence. The sight of Killian downing his brandy in a single go drew a soft sigh of mock disappointment from James, who shook his head lightly.

“That,” James said, lifting his glass with practiced poise, “is not how one drinks brandy, Killian. A proper gentleman—pirate or not—must savor it. Observe.”

James brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip and letting the black cherry brandy linger on his tongue before swallowing with a quiet sigh of appreciation. He arched a brow at Killian, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “It’s a drink meant to be appreciated, not inhaled like cheap rum.”

Then came the touched smile again. "Trust," James repeated, his tone almost wistful. "I suppose we both have a bit of a complicated relationship with that word, don't we? But… I do know the kind of man you are, despite the reputation, despite the ship and the crew. "

Taking another a slow sip of his brandy, savoring both the drink and the moment. "You’ve proven yourself today especially, and I can hardly ignore that. As for backstabbing, well, if there’s one thing I can say for myself, it’s that I don’t go around betraying those who show me kindness… or who don't deserve it." At least not yet…

James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, a flicker of pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he began, James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he thought aloud, "was not an overnight affair. It was the culmination of years spent commanding His Majesty's ships, capturing pirate crews, and bringing order to waters you lot seemed determined to make lawless."

He swirled the brandy in his glass, as though lost in the memory for a moment. "One contributing victory was the capture of the rum runners on what you pirates have deemed Rum Runner Island. They were a particularly evasive group—masters of slipping past blockades and hiding their operations in the labyrinth of caves along the island's shores. But we anticipated their movements, and with the help of local informants, laid a trap. A few well-placed fires in their cavern stores forced them out, right into our waiting arms. Their surrender secured one of the Caribbean's most notorious smuggling rings."

James allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and reflection. "The Crown was pleased, of course. Less smuggled rum meant more revenue in taxes for their coffers. But to me, it was about ensuring fewer weapons and contraband flowed into the hands of those who would destabilize the colonies."

He set the glass down, folding his arms across his chest as he continued. "My reputation grew further after a harrowing victory near the Windward Passage. We were outnumbered—three pirate vessels to our single frigate—but superior tactics and discipline won the day. It wasn’t without cost, though. Good men were lost in the fight, and yet their sacrifice solidified the Navy’s grip on those seas."

Another sip "That victory earned me both the respect of my peers and the ire of your kind. 'Scourge of Piracy,' they called me—because every captured flag, every destroyed vessel, meant fewer pirates preying on merchant ships and coastal towns."

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And then there was Port Royal. The crown took notice of my efforts when I was stationed there. Ensuring the colony’s safety and dealing with… persistent nuisances cemented my standing. Commodore was a natural step forward for me, if I aimed to follow in…. his… footsteps.”

One last sip, and he .. pushes the glass toward Killian. " I ah, don't suppose It would be too bold of me to ask for a refill? "

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hi I’ve been thinking about this request for poly!plastics for a while now. So basically everyone knows that Regina gets angry and when she does people just don’t part ways with her. However, y/n is worse especially when she doesn’t get her full sleep which she didn’t get bc Gretchen and Karen were up and loud. (Y/n would never fault them bc she just loves them so much and their quirks). So throughout the school day, everyone has been getting on Y/n nerves like making comments about her girls etc. at lunch time, cady decided to make a “joke” about Karen being dumb, Regina being a bitch, etc and Y/n just explodes. Maybe heavy make out sess or smut after to calm Y/n down.

Slow Boil

|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader

(I myself am poly)

|| Warnings: swearing, reader almost punches Cady, reader has an attitude, little make out session at the end but nothing overly detailed or anything

|| Summary: reader doesn't get enough sleep, the next day people get on her nerves and it pushes her to a boiling point where she snaps at Cady for insulting her girls.

Requests open!

~~~

To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. You barely got any sleep the night before with Gretchen and Karen being up all night giggling and gossiping. How Regina slept through them... you didn't know, but God you were envious of her sleeping abilities. Though you would never blame or get mad at Gretchen and Karen. You would however be frustrated at yourself for not falling asleep sooner.

The day seemed to drag on. As if seconds were really minutes and minutes were hours. Classes taking too long to complete. In Health & Fitness you just gave up and fell asleep, head rested on your desk with one arm folded around it and other stretched out in front of you. Cady glanced at you and raised an eyebrow.

The bell woke you from your sleep and you groaned, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. At least it was lunch. You'd get to see your girlfriends.

"Sleeping beauty rises." Mr. Carr comments, getting a few laughs from some kids in the back. You roll your eyes at him.

"I bet you thought that was clever. Do everyone a favour and keep your damn puns to yourself." Mr. Carr seemed taken aback by your attitude, usually you didn't have one. You were known for being kind and laid back. Not snappy and agitated. For that reason, he decides to let it go. Not without giving you a small warning lecture first. It certainly didn't make your mood any better.

You left the class, a sharp (sleep filled) glare glossing over your eyes as you walk through the halls. Some conversations catching your attention, people seemed to be talking about your girlfriends a lot lately. The things they were saying weren't always positive and that just did nothing to improve your mood. One voice in particular catches your attention. Cady.

You snapped your head in her direction, seeing her chatting with those art freaks Janis and Damien.

"Honestly, Karen's gotta be the dumbest person I've ever met. When I went to Regina's house Regina told Karen she would help her with her eyebrows and Karen asked if she could still have two." Cady talked, Damien and Janis laughed. You could feel your blood boiling," Speaking of Regina, don't even get me started on her. She is such a bi-"

"The next word out of your mouth better fucking be "bi icon" or I swear to every God that's listening..!" You yelled, taking a step towards Cady who froze in place. Damien and Janis exchanged a look.

"Y-Y/N, I didn't think-" You cut Cady off.

"Clearly! What the hell, Cady?! They've been nothing but nice- well, to your face- and this how you repay them?" You were livid. The news about you fighting with Cady quickly spread throughout the school, eventually reaching your girlfriends who sprang into action. Hoping to stop things before it escalated.

Regina got there first and put herself between you and Cady right as you had been about to strike. You pause the moment you see Regina and your arm falls to your side. Gretchen and Karen link their arms around yours and keep you back while Regina sighs.

"Baby, take a breath for me." Regina says, you ignore her and look at Cady. She snaps her fingers in your face," Don't look at her. Look at me."

You listen. Reluctantly.

"Breathe." Regina urges, hand resting on your shoulder. When that doesn't work she grabs you by your wrist and pulls you to the bathroom, Gretchen and Karen quickly following behind.

Once there, they all turn and face you.

"What was all that about?" Gretchen asks.

"Cady was being a total bitch." You mutter, arms folded across your chest.

"You mean like Cady Heron?" Karen looks confused.

"No, KD Mac and Cheese." You snap, then realize who you just snapped at. Regina narrows her eyes at you. Karen frowned and you relaxed your shoulders.

"I'm sorry... I just- didn't get any sleep last night and my patience has been pushed to the edge today because of it..." You admit in a mumble, hand covering your face as you tilted your head down. You felt bad.

Gretchen took a step towards you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she moves her hand away from your face. Giving you a deep, soft kiss that you immediately melt into. Hands resting gently around Gretchen to pull her closer. You could feel as your body finally relaxed. Whatever anger you had being washed away.

She broke the kiss and rested her hand to your cheek," Better?"

"I could maybe use a couple more kisses..." You smile sheepishly, looking over at Regina and Karen. Your girlfriends laugh softly and the tension in the room seems to fade.

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ FOUND WOUNDED

Warnings: afab genitalia, gender neutral pronouns. PIV unprotected sex, Lilia takes a dominant role throughout the smut, hair pulling (reader giving), overstimulation (reader receiving), cunnilingus. not proofread it is what it is.

Summary: Out of the kindness of your heart —and naivety mixed in— you nurse back to health the injured fae you came across with in the forest.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: if you find a mistake just ➖➖ close your eyes like that and pretend you dont see it. my contribution for general lilia lovers (myself included💗)

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . KOFI | NEXT

At first, General Lilia was like a feral cat when you tried to get close to him.

Injured and almost unconscious; that was how you had found him. A gaping wound on his abdomen. Regardless of his blurry vision, he could still make out the smell of a human.

Thus, through deep breaths and pained winces, he demanded that you not come closer. Those demands were accompanied by curses and hisses, of course.

Perhaps you were naive or had no sense of self-preservation, or both, because despite his refusal to receive aid, you carried him on your back.

Had the fae been in better condition, you wouldn't have made one step forward without some inconvenience happening.

Lilia's first instinct, when he awoke the next day, was to attempt to flee before you realized he was up. Granted, the pain from recent battle wounds sliced through his being, rendering him to fall back on the bed.

His heartbeat picked up once he saw you walking into the room, kicking the door shut, and carrying breakfast in your hands.

The fae's words were nothing short of disdainful, accompanied by threats.

You were aware of the complex human-fae relationships and weren't surprised by his outburst. Instead, you ignored his empty words, left the breakfast on the little nightstand next to the bed, and left.

Although the general wasn't pleased at the fact you dismissed his words as if he were blabbering, he himself knew he wouldn't hurt a defenseless human like yourself. He's willing to turn a blind eye to those that aren't part of the Silver Owl's; after all, you weren't an immediate threat to him.

He sighed, turning to look at the source of the appealing aroma on the nightstand.

He wasn't that hungry, right? He could just wait a while longer, just to establish a sense of power over you—he didn't need you as much as you thought he did.

The grumbling from his stomach made his thoughts pause.

By lunch time, you decided it was a reasonable idea to check back on the fae you rescued yesterday.

The plate was clean, as you expected.

Without sharing another word, you gathered the plate and the utensils to head back to the kitchen, until the fae’s low voice and dry manner of speaking interrupted you.

“You know our kind have had conflicts of interest, right?” You couldn’t identify any sort of hostility or ill-intent from him when he spoke his mind.

“I...” You stopped to wonder if you actually considered that detail when you decided to bring this stranger into the safety of your home. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back on someone who’s about to die,”

Lilia stared at you; you couldn’t discern how he took the comment.

“Hmph,” he said, crossing his arms. “You humans underestimate faes. I’ve survived worse wounds. This is nothing in comparison.”

“Yeah, yeah. You're, oh, so dangerous, and I'm, oh, so fragile. Please don’t kill me, Mr. Fae,” you feigned a squeakier voice. You reveled in amusement at his displeased expression. Suddenly, you realized you didn’t even know his name. “By the way, I don’t know what to call you.”

For a moment, Lilia considered not telling you. He would flee this place as soon as he could, so what was the point? He reasoned. Despite that, he figured that you would be more fearful of him if he revealed his name, as everyone knew the title that was accompanied by it.

“Or do you want me to keep calling you Mr. Fae?” You kept poking fun at him.

“I’m Lilia Vanrouge. Does the name ring any bells to you?”

You stopped for a moment to think.

“To be honest, no.”

Lilia wondered how you were still alive at this point, being so detached from the current events going on. You had just enough information to know about the war that was going on.

Unbelievable. He shook his head before looking down at the bandages wrapped around his lower abdomen.

The dull pain that comes from wounds was still present, albeit less than yesterday. He made an effort to sit up on the bed and undid the bandages, wanting to check the wound. If he applied less strength than usual, the sting was bearable.

You stitched his lesion while he was unconscious. Even though your work was decent, he couldn’t help but wish there were fairies nearby who could speed up the healing process. He couldn’t stop thinking back on his troops, the princess, his kind—they needed him right now.

Lilia’s troubled pondering stopped when you came back.

“I was just about to ask how you were feeling. The stitches haven’t opened, right?” You dabbed the rag into the water, looking to use the piece of cloth to clean up any dirt or blood that might’ve been left over from the prior day.

“Halt, human,” he tried to scurry away, flustered. “I can do it myself. I managed to eat on my own. I don’t need your help. Wait outside,”

“Okay, but you still should clean the rest of your body. I thought I could help you walk to the bathroom so you can use the shower,” you said, placing a hand on your chin. “Will you be able to reach your back? Bend enough to clean your legs?”

Lilia narrowed his eyes, partly out of suspicion. “If I were you, I’d be more cautious of a stranger,” he sighed. “I’ll allow you to help me clean my back. The rest, I can manage. Try anything funny, and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,”

“Anything funny? You mean killing you? Do you think I would go to these lengths just to murder you?”

“My point stands.”

You guided the fae towards your bathroom; you left him alone so he could undress and wash what he could without your help. Once he was done, he called to you, where he was waiting, sitting on the wooden bathroom’s stool with a towel wrapped around his hips.

He didn’t acknowledge you entering; he just sat there in silence, waiting for you to pour water on his scarred back. Some scars were new, some were old, and others were fading.

His ears flicked when he heard you sit behind him.

The session was…awkward, to say the least. You both were quiet, and you wondered what he was thinking about during his silence. You resisted the urge to trace the scars on his back. You surmised that it must be a sensitive topic for him. You knew about the hardships of war, but having a glimpse of the surface of them awakened a sense of pity for him.

You slid the rag along his back. Albeit having a thin frame, there was some tonification...

He shivered, interrupting both your train of thoughts and your languid movements.

“You done?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Yes,” you answered curtly, ashamed of yourself for allowing your mind to wander that much.

From then on, having the general living under the same roof was...an experience. To you, he seemed to have some sort of internal conflict when speaking to you; sometimes, he would speak in a kinder way, and at other times, he would go back to his withdrawn and indifferent attitude.

Like he was afraid of getting too attached soon.

You would tease him, proclaiming that he had developed a soft spot for you. He would either roll his eyes, huff, or deny, until he stopped paying attention to your “pointless ramblings” (as he called them). You couldn’t help but find amusement at the idea of this fae getting tired of your teasing and preferring to ignore them.

Of course, the general would rather die than admit his days in relative leisure with you were quite endearing—he wouldn’t admit his true feelings to himself either—as having someone looking out for you was a change of pace for his days of solitude. Solitude comes in the form of having no one else but himself to rely on.

For a human such as yourself to be selfless enough to nurse him back to health, even if not necessary until a certain point, made you stand out over the rest of the past human interactions he’d experienced.

Avarice and thoughtlessness were, after all, the reasons why the fae clashed with humanity.

Alack, he couldn’t stay here with you for the rest of his life.

Basking in the last rays of sunlight, sitting on the fresh grass as you shared a meal, you didn’t expect Lilia to have a gloomy expression.

“You’re going back to your military camp?”

“The war isn’t over yet. I’ve wasted enough time waiting for my wounds to heal,” Absentmindedly, his hands hovered over where the gaping wound once was. “You’ve been…”

“Hm?” You directed your focus to him, expecting him to finish his sentence while you munched on a slice of bread.

“I’ll give it to you. You’ve been helpful, but also annoying. I wouldn’t have imagined someone to have the ability to both heal and damage someone at the same time,” he took a sip of the tea and turned his head away in agitation.

“Would it hurt too much to just say ‘thank you’?” You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you,” he agreed, so you would drop the topic.

The sun had long since set, the single light source coming from your home. Lilia gave one last glance at your profile, noticing you were deep in thought.

He opened his mouth to tell you he was going inside again. Then he closed it again, thinking maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed by whatever you were reflecting on.

For the past few weeks, stress over how his troops were doing has built up. The general couldn’t wait any longer to go back to them.

He departed that same night.

Lilia took a quick look at the bedroom he has been staying in, checking if there was anything he should take with him before departing.

Alongside his mask, he wielded his magical lithic with practiced ease. 

He placed a hand on the window and pulled the lower panel up to open it. With a foot already on the windowsill, he hesitated.

I haven’t said goodbye to...

Almost as if driven by instinct, he went back to the living room, where he last saw you a couple of hours before.

At first, he didn’t see you. He rationalized that you were in your bedroom now; however, a soft snore made him realize that wasn’t the case.

Sprawled on the couch. Blanket on the floor. Your head is almost falling off the edge of said furniture.

That’s how he found you sleeping.

He deadpanned, reaching down towards the blanket on the floor and draping it over your sleeping form.

Did Lilia feel at fault that he didn’t get to say goodbye? Yes. Nevertheless, the fae was set on answering the call of his obligations before letting himself realize it.

Being a proper general like him, he located the camp with ease. Every single one of his comrades celebrated his return.

Now, this was an environment he was used to. It felt right; this was what he was familiar with.

And despite that, he couldn’t shake you off his thoughts. Not even the next day.

His mind kept reeling back on the idea of heading towards your small cottage to apologize.

Lilia groaned in frustration, turning around on the makeshift bed inside his tent. He stared at the walls, asking himself if it made sense for him to have these feelings.

Humans are weak. I should check on that human. Yeah, that’s it. That human is clumsy.

While putting on his armor and tying the knots in their places, he couldn’t believe himself—he was going back just to see you.

It was past midnight. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to go see you, but he hoped you were up. He remembered that you tend to stay up past that hour.

He found himself smiling fondly at the memory before his smile dropped at the smell of smoke and fire in the distance.

With a racing heart, Lilia hurried to where he knew your home was.

Engulfed by fire.

The orange embers reflected on Lilia’s eyes as he gawked at the unbelievable sight. Soon, his attention was brought back to unknown faces inspecting around the perimeter. He identified the silver armor, and Lilia didn’t waste any more time acting.

“The general!” One of them shouted, the others unsheathed their swords, and they prepared to attack.

By the sound of it, Lilia supposed that this was an ambush, since it appeared that they were after him and set the house on fire to have a better chance of hunting him down.

“Where’s the human?!” Lilia demanded, pushing the lithic blade against the soldier he trapped.

“Calcinated, perhaps,” he spat.

As she was about to slice him open, something stopped Lilia.

With a hand on his arm, you managed to halt his movements. Had you come any later, the soldier would’ve had his neck chopped.

You didn’t give him a chance to question you; rather, you pulled him away from the burning place and into the forest.

To say the fae was speechless was a way to put it—he was baffled. Up until a certain moment, he managed to regain his composure and grab you by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you let me end him?!” He shook you. “You allowed those pesky pests to get away with it!”

“Lilia—”

“What?!”

“You’re digging your nails. It hurts.”

His arms dropped back to his sides, as if you were scalding hot.

“Now what’re you going to do? Your home…”

“I have no other choice other than traveling back to town.”

“Alone? In the middle of a war? You’re lucky enough I was willing to spare you, but I can’t guarantee other faes will do the same,” Again, his hands were on you. “You’re coming with me,”

Your mind stalled.

“Huh?” You followed him when he began heading in a direction only he knew where it ended. “Are you accompanying me towards the town?”

“Do I look like someone who has that much time to spare?” He squeezed your hand more. “I’ll take you to my camp,”

You stopped walking, pulling on his hand.

“You can’t be serious. Aren’t they going to kill me?”

“Dare anyone lay a hand on you, I’ll return the action tenfold.”

“How are you so sure they won’t dare hurt me?”

“Because I’m their general.”

“So, when were you planning on telling me that minuscule detail?” Your voice became increasingly louder as you spoke from shock. “That all this time, I’ve had the general in my home?!”

“You’re going to attract an enemy’s attention. Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth with his hand. “Let’s get going,”

You managed to escape unscathed from the fire but were exhausted from the stress of having to flee. You hugged yourself while you followed the general, fending off the chill of the night that was starting to seep into your being.

There was someone waiting by the camp’s entrance, and Lilia knew who that was.

“General, there you are!” The man’s green eyes fixed on you; sheer disdain reflected on them upon seeing you. “What’s that human doing here? They didn’t harm you, right?!”

“Quiet, Baur! This human is coming with me,” Lilia looked at you for a second. “This person is... who found me wounded back then,”

It seemed as if Lilia had mentioned you to this fae named Baur before your meeting.

“I trust you’ll keep this a secret. If the soldiers ask why this human is with us, tell them that they’re being held hostage to aid with manual labor,” Lilia had made up his mind. There was no way he would let you dive into danger.

“General… I trust your judgment above all, but—”

“My decision isn’t up for debate.”

Baur shifted his gaze back on you, unconvinced of the general’s judgment. Regardless, he recognized his position and didn’t object further.

You were drowsy. You didn’t notice you followed Lilia into his tent.

Lilia, too, occupied with his own musings, didn’t bat an eye at the arrangement.

"It would be a better idea if—" he turned around and saw you had already made yourself comfortable on his bed. You had shrugged your coat off in a messy manner, one sleeve still up your shoulder.

Acting out what felt natural, he kneeled on the makeshift mattress and finished pulling the sleeve off your body. Then he grabbed the blanket to place it over you, but you stopped him by putting your hand on his cheek.

"You look tired too," you noted with a whisper.

"Not more than you."

"My body's exhausted, but my mind's wide awake still," You moved your hand away from his cheek and reached behind him to slide the hair tie off. His ponytail became undone, locks of hair falling on either side of his face.

His hand snatched yours, albeit his face was flushed and his ears red. He held your gaze, bodies rising in temperature, until he couldn’t hold it anymore and leaned down to kiss you. It started as a vehement desire to demonstrate the feelings bottled up inside.

You weren’t faring any better, hugging him close to you despite how his fangs would bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood from his eagerness. Lilia rested his weight atop yours, pinning you down against the bed, hands wandering around your torso and squeezing what he could.

Breathless, Lilia pulled away, panting, his fangs peeking.

Intrigued by their shape, your thumb touched the pointy edge, feeling its puncture on the surface.

“Your fangs. They’re very sharp,” Your thumb moved away from the impressive canine teeth, preferring to graze it across his reddened bottom lip.

“Keep touching me like that, and I’ll use them to leave marks on that pretty neck of yours.”

You swiped your finger over his lip again.

His hand went straight to your head and pulled to expose your neck; a soft mewl escaped you. In no time, restless hands undid each other’s clothes in a haze. Lilia reminded you to avoid waking up the slumbering soldiers with your constant moans.

Had his mouth not been occupied slurping and sucking your clit, he would’ve had to control his voice too; Lilia had told you to get on top of him, baring your pussy in the most vulnerable way possible by placing your knees on either side of his head. You started by trying to not suffocate him, fearing that it might be too much—Lilia couldn’t care any less about that since he pulled you closer by your hips.

Sloppy—the very image of starving and making a mess between your legs. He guided your hips to move in backward and forward motions, just making it harder for you to quiet down. 

“Lilia,” you tried to warn him of your approaching orgasm.

One hand tightened on your hips when he sensed you trying to get off, while the other slid up the small of your back to push you forward, making it easier for him to reach your clit.

“I’m going to cum, Lilia. Please,” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but your hips trembled, and you didn't want that satisfaction to end.

You bit down on your hand to silence yourself when you reached your climax.

However, Lilia’s hunger wasn’t satiated. You felt as if he was about to pounce on you, which wasn’t far-fetched, because he proceeded to change positions and push you on your back.

You couldn’t hold back your whimpers as Lilia kept teasing your sensitive clit, trying to tell him you were still coming down from your orgasm, but your own mind betrayed you. Lilia’s grin was fiendish, adoring the way you were so responsive to him.

“That was all it took to get this pussy this drenched?” He fingered your hole, and beyond indecent sounds came from there. “Listen to that. You’re beyond soaked. Even the insides of your thighs are covered with your cum. Didn’t you enjoy that a little too much?” he teased.

“F-Fuck, shut up,” your cheeks burned from embarrassment.

He wasn’t better off himself either. Beads of precum both roll down his dick and drip on your thigh. With the same hand he masturbated you with, he used your slick to further lubricate his cock, even if it wasn’t necessary given how wet you were.

He aligned it with your entrance and pushed in, panting from how good you felt to him. The moment he was completely inside, he began thrusting with unparalleled pace. You bit your lip, along with teary eyes, making your best attempt at keeping your voice down. Lilia noticed you struggling and bent down to shut you up with his own lips. For that instance, the tempo staggered but was still thrusting hard.

Through your foggy mind, you wondered how such a slim body like his was able to muster this much force at such a rapid pace. How a fae with a pretty and charming face like his could be this debauched...

“Ah…” he moaned against your neck, hunger overriding any sense of rationality. Lilia hid his face in your neck, licking and kissing it.

Without you needing to tell him, the general busied his hand with your clit again, pushing you closer to an orgasm. At this point, he went back to that sloppy tempo, and your hands darted to his disheveled hair, tugging those lovely locks of magenta and black hair. You tugged slightly harder without you discerning as you orgasmed, your body quivering from the intensity of the climax. A small grunt left him and came shortly after you.

After a while of catching his breath, he pulled away and lied down next to you.

“You’re lucky these soldiers are heavy sleepers, and my tent isn’t close to theirs.”

You covered your face, realizing that you were basically surrounded by more faes. “I don’t want to show my face to them,”

Essentially, the soldiers were heavy sleepers thanks to the weariness of having to train early in the day, do manual work, fight, run up and down the mountain, and everything else. They didn’t hear a thing. As for Baur, however...

[gojoux]

『 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo never felt truly cared for besides from his best friend who had parted ways. In his doubtful phase, he keeps asking the question why would you care so much for him?

· CW: 5.8k // Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Angst. Gojo in badmood. Gojo against the world, maybe. Reader's patience is as thick as Toji's biceps but also as thin as his pet worm's hair.

You're sitting with Shoko in the classroom across from each other as you eat your lunch. “Have you heard anything from Satoru?” You ask her, wondering where the talkative lanky man is. You always call him by his given name when you're talking about him with Shoko, but never in front of him.

Shoko gives you a sad smile as she shakes her head. “No, not recently. The last time we talked was just before winter break. He came to me to ask a few things, that was it.” She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is something wrong?”

“Winter break?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But, that was two weeks ago.” You frown.

“I have to assume there's a good reason for it. You know, missions? He wouldn't leave without telling anyone unless something serious came up.” She shrugs. “Then again, he never tells me anything.”

You know how things are different now, things have changed. Maybe he did change, too? You can't help but wonder, you always found him quite mysterious despite his big mouth.

Ever since Geto's departure, Gojo has been going out on more missions. After one is done, he goes for another one. No stopping, no breaks.

You let out a tired sigh, the feeling of anxiousness keeps coming back whenever you're thinking about his whereabouts. “I'm just... worried. You know how it is...”

Shoko puffs her cigarette to the side. “I'm sure he's fine. Just because he's out there hunting curses alone, doesn't mean we should be worried.” She takes another smoke from her cigarette. “Well, I have to say, I'm quite worried for his health. Too much use of his Six Eyes could burn his brain to crisp.”

“I can't believe that I'm saying this but,” you rest your head on your folded arms on the table. “I miss him, Shoko,” you say quietly, looking at the wooden surface of the table up close.

She raised her eyebrow at you. “You miss Gojo?” She pauses, her voice softer. “What could you possibly miss about that guy?” She glances across the table at you.

“Oh, come on.” You groan quietly. “He's annoying, but he's... I don't know, likable?” You say unsurely because you know damn well that everyone in school, and the higher-ups, definitely won't think Gojo is likable. Well, not in a bad way, but he's not exactly unlikeable either.

It's hard to explain because he's just, him. A complex individual. And everybody have their own thoughts about him.

“You have to be kidding.” Shoko looks at you amused. “Likable isn't the word I'd use to describe him.” She pauses. “But, I guess I know what you mean. He's not all that bad once you get used to him.”

“Maybe you missed him because he hasn't been picking on you lately,” she says with a small chuckle as she puts off her cigarette. “Pshh, why would you think that?” You roll your eyes at her suggestion, brushing off her words with a hand gesture.

Then, the table vibrates suddenly. Shoko frowns at the sound of the phone ringing, noticing it was hers. She reaches over and grabs her phone, glancing at the screen. Turns out she was called to the school's infirmary, asking her to heal another sorcerer after a mission.

Shoko sighs and stands up from the table. “Duty calls.” She pauses. “I'll see you later, alright?” She smiles at you, heading off from the classroom after you wave your hand as a farewell.

As you continue to eat your lunch alone, another vibration could be felt from the table, this time it's yours. With a small groan, you look down at your phone in your hands. A text message has appeared on your screen. It's a message from Gojo Satoru.

I'm at school. A simple text to confirm his well-being.

Your eyes light up at the text before you quickly type in, where are you?

You huff when you didn't receive any reply. You haven't seen Gojo in a while so you quickly left your lunch to search for him while you sense his cursed energy.

You found it. You can sense him on the training field. You make your way there to find Gojo. The sky is overcast when you arrive at the training field. The wind blows around you, rustling the grass. When you reach the side of the field, you see a figure standing in the distance, his head angled down. His arms are crossed, creating a shadow across his face.

He glances up as you approach. “You found me.” His voice is calm, his eyes betraying no emotions. “Gojo?” You call out his name quietly. He looks different than the last time you saw him, he looks more somber.

Gojo's eyes meet yours. “Yeah... it's me.” He looks away from you again, “Are you here to scold me? For leaving without telling anyone?” There's a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. “If you came by to scold me for running off, then don't even bother.” His eyes are cold, unreadable.

You were taken aback by the drastic change of attitude. It's not the usual cheery and playful Gojo Satoru you know. “Have you been taking more missions?” You ask carefully like you're walking on eggshells around him. “You look... tired.”

His gaze sharpens as he glances at you. “More missions than usual... yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “I'm trying to keep myself busy.” There's a hint of melancholy in his voice as he talks.

“Some more difficult than others.” His voice trails off. “I don't want to be stuck in my thoughts when I'm at the dorm.” He glances away.

“Right...” You feel awkward after he's done talking. It's just the tone that he uses makes you feel unfamiliar with this ‘new’ Gojo.

“Are you... going on a mission soon?” You ask quietly, hoping he would say no or the very least, not soon. You just want him to rest.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. He glances around the field. “The old geezers keep pushing me to take on more missions, the threat of cursed spirits isn't getting any less. They want me to keep exorcising them." He looks back at you.

“I'm heading out tomorrow to deal with a colony of spirits that have been plaguing the city. It's a relatively small job for me.” His voice is nonchalant as if he were talking about any ordinary night.

“That soon? Shouldn't you be resting after all that missions?” You raise a brow at him.

Gojo turns towards you. “Resting is for the weak.” He crosses his arms, his gaze piercing. “I'm not weak.” He pauses. “I don't need a break.” He glances away from you, his eyes flicking across the training field.

You scoff to the side, shaking your head at his response. ‘He's like a child. So stubborn, too.’ You think. But you can't really blame him for feeling like this.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds more tired. “Besides... if I stop and rest, I'll just go back to thinking about him.” He pauses. “And I don't want that right now.”

“Look,” you try to find a word to convince him, “Just— take a break for a few hours, okay? You can go again later.” You try to persuade him. “The city won't fall apart if you're absent for a while, you know that's not how it works.”

“Of course, I know that.” He lets out an irritated huff. “I'm not stupid. I'm just... busy.” He glances away from you again, his gaze piercing the sky as he thinks.

“Besides, what if the curse spirits get worse while I'm gone? What if they're able to cause some serious damage while I'm sitting in my room on my ass.” He turns his attention back to you. “And you know I can't let that happen.”

“I know that." You let out an exasperated sigh. “There are other capable sorcerers who can take the mission, not just you.” You remind him. You stay quiet for a while, letting out another sigh. “Only for a few hours, please?” You offer again as you take note of how tired he looks.

He scoffs quietly, but his tone is less aggressive than before. “Fine. A few hours.” He sighs in defeat as his hands slip into his pockets.

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” He tilts his head slightly at you. “Maybe.” You shrug nonchalantly, even though deep in your heart, you're worried about him. You want to care for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone is more casual. “Yeah, sure.” You nod at him. Gojo's eyes shift back to the training field. “Why do you care? I thought I was annoying.” The tone of his voice is flat.

“I'm not weak and I don't need your pity. I can handle a few missions.” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing. “Why do you worry for me so much?” His voice is softer, not as cold as before.

“You actually care what I think of you?” You can't help but let out a small chuckle. “I can't deny that.” You ignore his question.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you, his expression blank. “What's that supposed to mean?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you trying to imply that I care about what you think of me? If so, I can assure you that isn't true.” He frown. “I don't give a damn about what other people think of me.”

“Right.” You hum casually. “You're the Gojo Satoru after all, why should you care?” You answer back with his words. “For your question, I do care, I won't deny that, too,” you answer him shortly.

His eyes shift back towards you as he listens to your answer. “You care for me?” He tilts his head in disbelief. “You always say I was nothing but annoying and a pain in the ass to you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Why?”

You smile at his response. ‘You do care what I think after all.’ You think to yourself.

“Well,” you thought of many things to say to him. Anything about him that makes you care for him so much. Anything about him that makes you like him so much. All despite his antics and shenanigans.

You hold your words behind your tongue, thinking that it's best to keep your true feeling hidden from him for now. “Just because,” you say simply, giving him a smile.

His face remains blank as he listens to you. After a moment of silence, a small smirk creeps back onto his face. “That's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets.

“I can tell you're lying.” His smirk quickly turns into another frown. “At least I know you care enough to lie to me.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “Don't be a coward about it. Just admit the reason you care for me. I won't judge you.”

You huff at his response. “I will tell you next time. Now come on, you agreed to take some rest.” You don't know what came after you, but without wasting more time, you grab his hand and lead him away from the training field.

He glances down at your hand as you hold onto his. He looks up at you and sighs. “Are you going to drag me back to the dorm... or something?” He sounds unamused.

However, he doesn't try to pull his hand out of your grasp. He simply follows along as you lead the way in front of him.

“Yeah, got to make sure you're actually going to rest. And what's a better place here than your own room?” You say as you both enter the dorm hall.

He doesn't say anything else as you lead him to his room. He glances up at you as you enter, still holding your hand. Gojo's face softens somewhat.

“What's this about, really? You seem awfully persistent about this.” He tilts his head in curiosity. “You want to cuddle with me or something?”

“What? Pfft, no.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Now, go, go. Have some sleep.” You open the door of his room, and let his hand go from your hold before pushing him inside. “Just rest, okay? No hard thinking.”

Gojo grumbles with annoyance. “Alright, alright...” He enters the room and sits on his bed. “I'm not thinking too hard.” He looks up at you, crossing his arms. It's like he's a sulking child.

However, after a few seconds, he sighs. He glances down at his room floor, his body language stiff. He plops himself down on his bed and rolls on his back, closing his eyes as he relishes the soft mattress on his back.

“Fuck... I guess I do need that sleep.” He turns around to face you. “Come on, just sit in here with me. I don't think I can sleep with you outside.”

This time, you raise a brow at him. “Huh?” You look at him dumbfounded by his out of nowhere suggestion. “You want me to stay with your or something? I can leave you alone if you want.”

Gojo's eyebrow twitches slightly. “I can handle sleeping alone.” He pauses, his expression shifting once more. “But... it gets lonely at times.”

He looks away from you. “It's... stupid I know, but I don't like the quiet when I'm alone.” His voice dropped to a quiet, hushed whisper.

“So... can you stay?” He shifts on his bed uncomfortably since he knows that this is unlike his usual self. “Please?”

You look at him amused as you lean on the door, internally laughing at his drastic change of attitude. You can't believe your ears when he said ‘please’, but you stay quiet, just wanting to drag this situation longer for your amusement.

It's rare to see him like this. Especially with those eyes and his pout, how can you resist, really?

“Come on... Just stay by my side for 30 minutes. I think if I feel your presence here, I'll feel better. I promise I won't bother you or anything.” He says once more. “Just... give me some company for a while.”

“Besides, I thought you cared for me?” He tilts his head to the side, a hint of tease is evident in his tone. He sits up a bit, resting his back against the pillows, waiting for you.

“Okay, okay.” You push yourself off the door before closing it. You walk towards his bed, and his expression softens as you sit down on his bed.

When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and relaxed. His eyes stare at you, a hint of vulnerability in them. “You know you didn't have to agree right away.”

“You're right,” you answer him lightly, your eyes looking around his room. He looks at you in silence, admiring your side profile before speaking, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.” you turn your head at him, waiting for his other question.

“Why... do you suddenly care so much for me?” Gojo looks at you seriously. "I know you always thought I was annoying and I didn't care if our relationship was hostile or not, but now you're acting like I'm some sort of important person to you.”

“I don't understand what changed.” He shifts his gaze away from you, turning towards the window instead. “And I don't get why you're trying to hide it either.”

You stare at him quietly, your eyes shifting down to his bed, and then the table beside it before returning to him.

You reach your hand towards his glasses, hooking a finger onto the bridge before taking it off from him gently, revealing the vibrant blue of his eyes, before putting the glasses on the table.

“You want me to answer that?” You ask back as you think how would you answer the question he's been wondering since you meet in the training fields.

Why do you care?

Why should you care?

Why?

“Yes.” He sounds serious as he looks at you again, not blinking. “Because I need to know.”

“You're hiding behind this facade you call ‘cool and laid back’, but it's pretty obvious that you're trying to hide something from me.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Why?”

You're stunned. You glance away, thinking of what you should answer him. And you can't help but think of how lonely he actually is to the point he seems to be in disbelief that someone does genuinely care for him.

He motions for you to go on. “So? Answer the question.” He sounds impatient, his expression still hard. His gaze doesn't waver as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“I don't know how to explain it to you." You finally answer. “I just care, I really do. Shoko, too, and Yaga as well. Even Nanami who always looks so annoyed around you. Those who are close to you care about you, Gojo. You're our friend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your answer. “I never asked you to care about me.” He sounds blunt as he glances back down at the bed, trying to ignore you for a few moments.

He stays quiet again, thinking about your answer. “You don't know how to explain it, huh?” He sighs. “So your only response is to keep being vague and beat around the bush.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you saying that you feel that you have an obligation to care about me because you know people who also do?” He's clearly annoyed by your answer. “Are you doing it out of guilt?” He sounds irritated as he gazes out of the window.

You let out another exasperated sigh at his response. It's clear that he doesn't really get this concept of care from other people.

His clan doesn't care for him as a person, let alone the elders. He grows up spoiled rotten, not out of care, but out of obligation. That's just how it is.

“That's not it!” You raise your voice in annoyance to deny his words. His bad mood starting to affect your own. “What's so hard to understand for you that I genuinely care? It's my choice to care for you because I just do!”

Gojo stays quiet as he listens to you snap at him. A slight frown comes onto his face when he hears your tone. “You just care? Just like that. There's nothing else behind it.” His voice is incredulous as he glares at you.

“Just give me a straight answer.” His eyes scan over you, looking for something. He stares at you defiantly, waiting for your response.

You look at him in disbelief before scoffing, “What else do you want me to say? ‘I like you that's why I care’ or something?” You shake your head after you said the first line mockingly.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to say.” His voice is sharp as he continues to glare at you. “Or at least, something along those lines.” He mumbles the finishing sentence.

“I want to know why you care for me. Tell me why.” He seems determined to get you to answer. His eyes narrow further, his gaze piercing. “You're not leaving this room until you give me an answer.”

“Fine, alright, since you're so damn stubborn about it.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I care for you as a friend, and I also care for you because I like you more than just a friend. There, happy?” you answer.

“You're so insufferable,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms and your body turning away from him.

Gojo looks at you with wide eyes as he tries to process what you just said. His shock continues to linger, making it difficult for him to speak. He looks taken aback at your response, and a smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?” His voice sounds soft, his tone completely shifting.

He scoots closer to you on the bed, almost hesitant. “Is that why you care for me?” He glances at you over your shoulder. “Am I hearing this right?”

After a moment, he leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you.” He sounds genuine as he continues to lean on you. You were stunned once more, but this time because of his unusual tone.

You stay quiet at his reaction, your heart beating fast as you try to process what's going on with his head resting on your shoulder. “Are you pretending to be clueless or are you just that oblivious?” You huff, not looking at him. Your face is heating up when you just realized what you said earlier.

“I'm not pretending to be clueless.” Gojo's voice is softer, almost gentle. “I've always wondered if you care for me as a friend or if there's a hidden meaning behind it. I was hoping it's the latter, but I kept denying it to myself."

He remains still in his position, comfortably leaning against you. His gaze studies your face intently. He scoots even closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.

“I like you too,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. Gojo's lips curl into a smile as he takes a slow, comfortable breath. You turn your head to the side to take a look at him.

“I've been dropping hints at you since forever, but I've always told myself it must have been a mistake when you replied the same way.” His face is still buried onto your shoulder as he speaks. “I always wondered if you secretly liked me too.”

You could only listen in silence, and your body slowly turning to him from the edge of the bed. You notice his eyes flick down toward your lips. “Am I that clueless, or did I know this whole time?” He pauses and glances back over his shoulder at your face. “It's hard to tell.”

His lips curls upwards as he stares at you, and slowly leans forward towards you. He doesn't look away, watching your face with intent.

His words are quiet, a gentle whisper. “What would you do if I suddenly kissed you right now?”

You didn't expect telling him to rest would end up to this. You stayed here because he asked you to company him, not at all imagining that this would be the place and time where the feelings would flow out.

“You do realize you should be resting by now, right?" You ask back, your voice equally quiet. You admire his handsome face up close. His eyes hold power and beauty, down to the shape of his nose, and down to his plump, pink lips.

Gojo grin at your words. “I can always go to sleep after. I think I have time for this.” His eyes flicker along your jaw, your neck, your lips. His breathing speeds up with each glance.

But finally, he leans in, his lips just a single inch away from touching yours. His eyes flicker downwards one last time. “Would you kiss me back?” He whispers, his voice just barely audible as if the volume was intentionally silenced.

“I don't know, would I?” You ask back again, secretly enjoying the closeness of your faces.

“Only one way to find out...” His eyes flutter closed as he leans forward. His lips touch yours for a brief moment, just a quick taste to test the waters. It's enough to make your heart skip a beat. His lips move slowly at first, but soon he presses his lips more on yours. He keeps one of his arms wrapped tighter around your waist to press his body more against your own, and the other one goes up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Gojo's lips are soft and tender on yours, and he slowly runs his tongue against your mouth. His eyes are closed, but he knows where you are. He's focused entirely on how your lips feel against his. You could feel the way his tongue brushing against your lips, and pushing it lightly to part them open for him. You let out a small hum of contentment, feeling the lips of the man you've liked for quite a while is definitely a dream come true.

His tongue slips into your mouth, moving slowly against yours in a slow and gentle dance, his tongue brushing against yours and exploring every corner of your mouth. His breathing quickening ever so slightly as his body leans into yours. His hands go up to the back of your head as he continues to kiss you. As he tastes you, his kisses become more intense and more passionate. 

Once you feel the lack of air in your long, you pull back from the kiss, “Gojo—” you call out to him. He lets out a soft groan at your voice, and slowly pulls away, but only a little. “Satoru.” He corrects you, his lips remain close to yours as he runs his tongue along your lower lip. He pulls away again a little bit, and stares back at you. “What is it?” 

He catches his breath and lick his lips, which are now parted slightly and slightly moist from his saliva. He's more excited than he's been in a long time, like he finally got a breath of fresh air after being stuck underground. “I've wanted to kiss you for ages,” he says quietly, his expression still soft. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he smiles. “You taste delicious.”

“Thanks, you do, too.” You chuckle before pulling away and grabbing the blanket to cover him. “Now, time for bed.” You tuck him in like you're tucking a little child to sleep.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He complains as the blanket is pulled over him and wrapped him up in it. “I thought you said you cared for me! Why am I getting tucked in like a kid?” He looks up at you, his voice full of mock outrage. “I want kiss.” He pouts at you. 

‘He even whines like a child.’ You let out a chuckle at his antics. You ignore him, not giving him the kiss just yet.

“That's why I'm tucking you to bed, Satoru.” You adjust the blanket on his body, staring at his messy hair on the bed. His heart does a small flip, but he quickly hides it as he hears what you say.

He doesn't oppose as you cover him with the blanket. In fact, he looks like a contented child, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and your closeness to him. “How are you going to get sleepy now? I just gave you a big reason to stay awake.”

“Hush, it's time to sleep.” You answer immediately, earning you another look from him.

The covers rustle as he moves around, making himself more comfortable under the blankets. He reaches his hand out to you from under the covers. “Could I pull you in? With me? I don't want you to leave just yet.”

You nod at him. “I'll hold you to my chest instead, okay? You need some comfort now.” You place a hand on his cheek before caressing the soft skin with your thumb. “I will give it to you,” you add quietly, knowing well when you once again see closely to his tired face.

“You want to hold me?” He chuckles quietly. “I wouldn't want anything else.” His eyes flutter shut again as you run your thumb across his cheek. His body begins to relax as he enjoys your touch. “You're so sweet...” He mumbles quietly.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still closed. “When did I begin to be so lucky? To have someone care for me so much?” He leans more onto your hand on his cheek, enjoying your gentle touch.

Gojo waits for you to lay down and get comfortable before pulling the covers over you both. After a moment, he lets his body settle closer to your own, letting you cradle him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. His face is pressed against your chest. 

You brush your fingers on his soft white hair, holding him close to you. You massage his head slightly once in a while. “You deserve it, Satoru. You really do,” you whisper onto his forehead before kissing it, your lips linger there for a while.

Gojo shudders a bit at your touch. He presses himself closer to you, letting his body sink into the comfort of your embrace. His hand brushes up and down your waist lovingly. You lift your head for a bit to give him another kiss on the temple.

“Mmm...” He sighs contently as he leans into you. His body sinks into yours, becoming one with the comfort and warmth of your touch. His eyes stay closed and his body becomes even more relaxed.

After a moment of silence and you thought he has already fallen asleep, he speaks again, “Do I?” He asks quietly, not quite believing what you just said.

“What am I really good for in the first place other than fighting cursed spirits?” A shadow of doubt flickered across his face. “Am I more than just a strong sorcerer?” 

You keep caressing his hair to bring him comfort. “You're more than just ‘The Strongest Sorcerer’. You're a human. A kind one deep down,” you answer him quietly. “Despite your upbringing." You add with a hint of playfulness as your hand goes down to pinch his nose between your finger before going back up. “And yes, you do deserve it. Never doubt that.”

His ears turns red as he hears your soft answer. He tries to hide it, but you can tell from his body language that he's happy.

“You think I'm kind?” He asks again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought that's something I wasn't.” He chuckles. “Does it show when I'm with you?”

“It shows to other people without you realizing it. I know because I see it myself.” You give him another kiss on the forehead.

He takes in a few breaths as you hold him close, his face inches away from your chest. “It feels so nice to just... not be alone for a while.” His voice is soft and quiet, unlike the usual Gojo Satoru who annoys others for his entertainment.

You answer with a hum. He had lost his best friend, the one that sticks with him through thin and thick on every mission and obstacle. He had lost someone who doesn't makes him feel like he was alone.

“Can I ask you something else? This is the last one, I promise,” he mumbles onto your chest. “You ask a lot of questions today. What is it?” You chuckle but let him ask anyway.

“Why do you keep defending me?” He murmurs. “Why do you care whether I think I deserve it or not?” He tilts his head up to look back at you. “All of these compliments you keep giving me... what are you getting out of this exactly?” He waits for your response, his expression serious.

‘Here we go again.’ You sigh, and this time, you smile at his other why question. There is so much he wants to know, so much he needs to know. If that is what brings him comfort, then you'd gladly give the answer to him.

“Because... I love you.” You hush him up with a kiss, not caring that you just used a strong expression of words. “There, now go to sleep.” You hope this would clear his doubts, at least for a while.

His eyes widen at your reply, his expression is completely frozen after hearing your words. “What?” He asks quietly, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. “You... love me?” 

After taking a few moments to compose himself, he slowly leans up and kisses you again. He kisses you passionately, putting the last of his energy into kissing your lips.

As he pulls away, he looks back at you. His eyes glimmer with tears that have yet to fall. “You love me?” He whispers again.

“Yes. I do.” You nod at him with a smile. Your thumb brushes against his cheek once more, shifting a bit up to caress the skin below his eye, looking into his teary eyes.

His head sinks into the crook of your neck as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Y-You love me?” He murmurs once more, sounding overwhelmed with emotion as he looks back up at you. “What am I supposed to do when the person I like, the person I've been thinking about this entire time, actually loves me back?”

“Hmmm, I wonder.” You caress the back of his hair, your fingers brushing against his hair, as you let him hide his face in the crook of your neck again. 

He presses himself against you, his body flushes against yours. His arms around your waist tighten its hold. He buries his face against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips against your neck, enjoying the comfort of the moment. “Your skin is... so much warmer than I imagined it'd be.” He whispers to you. His lips graze against your neck as he presses in.

“Can you... Can you hold me for a bit longer?” He whispers. “Could I sleep in your arms for a while more?” You kiss his forehead once again. “I can hold you for as long as you want me to.” You assure him.

His face lights up when he hears your answer. “For as long as I want you to?” He sounds surprised. His arms squeeze around your waist. “Do you promise you won't tire of me? I might not want to leave.”

“Then, don't leave. I want you here with me.” You say quietly. Now that you have him, you want him all for yourself, and you promise yourself to never let him go.

He smiles at your words and nuzzles your neck with his lips. “Well, my favorite place in the world is close to you.” He wraps himself fully around you and buries his face in your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for a while.

“I'll never get tired of you, never.” You assure him again. A smile breaks out on his face as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You'll never get tired of me?” He whispers to you, his words coming out soft and sweet. He holds you tighter to him, his face still buried against your neck. “Don't make promises you can't keep. I think I'm just that easy to dislike.”

“Not me. Nothing else should matter. I like you, and I love you. I could only hope that's enough to ease you, even just a bit.” You nuzzle your nose on his forehead.

He smiles at you, his eyes slowly fluttering close. “That's more than enough to ease me.” His voice trails off as he lets himself fall asleep. His breathing deepens as he enters into a peaceful slumber.

He's truly comfortable in your arms, his body relaxed against you. He's happy to be with you, happy to be held by you, and happy to be cared for by you.

He dreams that when he wakes up, you would pamper him with the love and care he'd always wanted. A genuine feeling that has managed to warm a place in his heart that he never knew he needed, all that in you, the person he loves.

Let me just test the waters (˃ ᵕ ˂) I'm soft for him.

[aciddrattboyy]

love & war

after getting upset with your bf over him beating someone up, he decides to make it up to you. in a library....

ryusei x f! reader ☆ smut ☆ wc: 3.3k cw: fingering, public sex, exhibitionism(?), dirty talk(?) [college au!] a/n: i had sm fun writing this its prob my fav work as of rn frfr im in love with ryusei

☆

“where’re you off to,” ryusei's voice seemingly came out of nowhere as he materialized next to you. walking in pace with you as you rushed through the campus courtyard to the bus stop. 

“somewhere youre not, ryusei,” your tone was dry, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. you heard him make a mock, exaggerated sound of hurt as he brought a hand up to his heart. 

“why so formal,” you could practically hear him pouting and under different circumstances you wouldve found it cute. but not now, while you were still upset with him over the events that happened a couple nights prior. “what happened to ryu or baby or love or honey or daddy-,” you spun on your heels, glaring at him as your face began to heat. he stood there, a dumb look of innocence on his face with his hands stuffed into his black shorts.

“shut up,” you grit through your clenched jaw, readjusting your bag as you turned back around, knowing you’d be screwed if you missed this bus. but ryusei had other plans, side stepping you and cutting you off.

“are you still mad,” he asked simply, in a way that sounded like you were the one being dramatic. you scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to move past him. but it was never that easy with him, getting stopped once more by his towering frame in front of you.

“i need to get on the bus,” you tried to reason with him, but the way his smile only grew made you realize that was a bad decision. 

“i’ll let you go if you give me a kiss,” he puckered his lips comically, pushing his face towards you. within a split second, you decided this wasnt worth it; quickly walking back the way you came in hopes of being able to find a friend or even an acquaintance willing to give you a lift. ryusei hurried after you, hands coming out of his pockets to wave them in surrender. “okay, okay, okay how ‘bout i just give you a ride,” much to ryusei’s delight, you stopped in your tracks as you seriously contemplated it. on one hand, you were still upset with him. on the other, you wouldnt have to worry about creepy men on a crowded bus or pleading with someone else to take you. 

“fine-,”

“yay!” ryusei was quick to drape his arm over your shoulder, navigating both of you to the parking lot. “so where’re you headed princess,” his overly sweet tone was annoying you. you thought about lying, having him drop you off somewhere close and walk the rest of the way. but after thinking about it for more than two seconds, you realized that wouldnt work on him. 

“the library,” you kept your hands on the strap of your bag, not wanting to play into his games. 

“oh ew,” he said quickly, detaching himself from your hip to open the passenger door for you, closing it after you got in. ryusei may piss you off more often than you wouldve maybe liked, but you couldnt deny he was still a gentleman most of the time. lightly jogging to the other side and hopping into the drivers side, he shot you a smile. “why’re we going to the library,”

you were in the middle of connecting your phone to his cars bluetooth, seeing your contact name ‘my baby’ on the small screen before you paused. ryusei's lips twitched into a smile just for a moment, seeing you be so comfortable around him despite how angry you were. 

“we?” you repeated, glancing at him in disbelief before you started scrolling through your plethora of playlists. 

“yes we,” he said quickly, turning on the car and backing out of the lot. “are you hungry?” he asked absentmindedly. for the first time since seeing you to he wasnt teasing you or trying to get even more under your skin. he was still your boyfriend after all and your health was important to him.  

“already ate,” you mumbled.

“when?” his eyes were on the rode, one hand on the steering wheel in a way he recalled you saying was attractive once before. he glanced at you, seeing you reach in his glovebox for the spare phone charger you stashed in there months prior. 

“like an hour ago,” you relaxed back into the seat, noticing how it was still reclined the way you had it last time you were in here. grabbing your phone. after ryusei nodded in response you decided to just put one of your playlists on shuffle. almost as if you were in some weird romcom, the first song to play was one of the first songs you ever recommended to ryusei when you were still in a sort of talking stage; the only way you knew how to flirt at the time being to share spotify playlists. 

ryusei who also remembered how this song was apart of your relationship origin story, smiled to himself. humming along and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.  the two of you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. if you could forget how ryusei broke a guys nose and gave him a concussion for simply offering you a drink and then saying he did it for you, it would almost be a normal day.

you unbuckled your seatbelt as he pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and opening the door once he stopped pulled into a spot. just as you were getting ready to give him your thanks, you heard him put the car in park and watched as he got out of the car. 

“what i said i was coming,” he shrugged his shoulders as you squinted your eyes at him. “oh,” he quickly cleared his throat, putting a hand over his heart and the other up by his shoulder. “i solemnly swear i will not break someones nose if they offer you a book,” 

“youre not funny,” you said lowly, scoffing as you made your way to the entrance. ryusei quickly got into step with you, easily slipping his hand in yours. 

“i was just being truthful,” pushing the door open for you, he watched as you took a crumpled piece of paper out of your pocket, reading it from over your shoulder. “are those the books you need?” he asked after reading the list. you only nodded, looking around the building as you tried to find where you should even start your search. ryusei knew you’d rather search the shelves for hours than ask for help and and he really didnt want to watch you go through hundreds of books before you could find the ones you need, so he snatched the list out of your hand, quickly turning away before you could take it back. “i’ll get these for you go find somewhere to sit,” 

“do you even know how a library works,”  

“no but unlike you i’ll ask for help- now go find somewhere to sit,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, making his way deeper inside the building before you could even respond. letting out a heavy exhale through your nose, you went the opposite direction, towards the study rooms and tables. 

you came across a corner with a small booth. the lighting was kind of bad but you’d rather have strained eyes than be confronted by yet another person who saw your boyfriend bloody a somewhat innocent man. you placed your bag on far side of the table, sliding into the booth with your back towards the wall and pulling out your phone. 

to your surprise, ryusei came walking over with a stack of books in his arms quicker than you thought he would. his face was turned away, using his most polite smile and tone to thank the elderly lady who helped him. you almost laughed when you saw the facade drop when he turned his attention on you. 

“here are all of your old, nasty smelling books,” he dropped them on the table with a small thud, ignoring your fleeting look of alarm at the noise. “librarians are actually very helpful,” he spoke while sliding into the booth next to you, smoothly draping his arm over the back of the creaky cushion.

“well thanks for your help,” you grabbed the heavy stack of books, pulling them closer to you and reading off the titles as you mentally checked off your list. “can you hand me my-”

“here,” he was already grabbing your laptop before you could finish asking, placing it in front of you before fishing his phone out of his pocket. you were grateful that he tamed his annoying tendencies when it came time for you to actually get to work. he sat next to you quietly, his side still glued to yours as he popped an earbud in and scrolled through tiktok. you put your own headphones on, quickly connected them to your phone and turning on your study playlist before opening your laptop and getting to work. 

ryusei was able to give it about three hours before he truly got bored. it was already dark out and he was running out of things to do. when he got tired of staring at his phone, he took a nap. when he woke up to you still working, he briefly stepped out to get you guys coffee and something to snack on. when he got back from the bathroom after chugging his drink in three seconds you were still typing away on your laptop. all of the books were open to pages you had marked, taking up almost all of the table space. he groaned and was mildly disappointed when he gained no response from you since your headphones were drowning out any outside noise. 

rolling his now sore neck thanks to his nap, he tried to think of something to do before he started bouncing off the walls. then his eyes landed on your thighs and suddenly he had the perfect idea. he knew he’d have to be careful about this, coming on too strong would make you all panicky. he had to take it slow. 

unceremoniously, he moved his hand from over the booth to his lap, readjusting his now half-hard cock in his basketball shorts. he slowly moved a hand to your thigh, rubbing small circles over the bare skin. he was silently thanking the weather for making you choose to wear shorts as he grabbed his phone off of the small portion of the table you so graciously left for him. 

you werent alarmed by his initial touch, it seemed harmless. you already knew ryusei was a touchy person and if anything you were surprised he was being so tame up until this point. that was until his hand rode up a little higher. it wouldve probably been noticeable if it wasnt for the fact that his fingers were now skimming just under your shorts. your head snapped towards him, taking your headphones off as you watched him stare at his phone. unfortunately for him, the sly smile tugging on his lips gave him away,

“whatre you doing,” you whispered, suspicion laced in your tone. he then looked at you, trying to use that same polite, innocent smile that he used on the librarian. 

“im just watching youtube-”

“you know what i mean,” you cut him off, not willing to put up with his bullshit. 

“no im not sure i do,” he squeezed your thigh lightly, letting you know that he in fact did know. this didnt stop him though, massaging your exposed skin as his fingers grew closer and closer to where he wanted to be. your thighs clenched as his middle finger slid over the crotch of your shorts, humming in delight at your bodys response. 

“behave,” you whispered through your teeth, turning back to your essay. but try as you may, you were not able to focus anymore. words blurring together as ryusei continued his little stuny, cupping your covered cunt. now that his charade was up, he completely disregarded his phone, eyes solely on you to watch every micro change on your face as you tried to keep it together. 

his hand traveled up to your waistband, not wasting any time before moving past both your shorts and panties. ryusei's smile was wicked as he pressed down on your clit, sliding down your slit. 

“well it seems like youre the one who needs to behave,” he spoke lowly against your ear, his middle finger just barely pressing into your fluttering walls. ryusei knew he was being a massive hypocrite. one glance over and you’d see his dick pressing almost painfully against his own shorts. but he enjoyed seeing you get embarrassed so he really didnt care. 

“youre awful,” your voice was strained, face heating up with a mix of fear and lust. you didnt know what you’d do if you were caught but it probably would involve your funeral. your insult only spurred ryusei on, dipping a finger inside you. he cursed under his breath, feeling how tight you were around him causing blood to run straight to his dick as he thought about how you felt around him when he fucked you. 

his free hand reach for your leg, hooking it over his to give him easier access. there was something extremely hot about how you didnt stop him. how you didnt want him to stop. it was evident in the way your hand clung onto his forearm. or more so in the way your hips were now rocking against his hand playing with your pussy, clit grinding against his palm. you didnt dare look at him, scared that if you did things would escalate even further. 

“youre pretty filthy arent you?” his tone was just plain mean, pushing two fingers in you without warning. he crooked them inside you before setting a slow, tortuous pace. “you say im awful but youre the one humping my hand,”

“ryu-” you whined softly, burying your head in your arms as if trying to hide yourself. his humiliating words made you clench around his fingers, silently willing him to go faster. he was moving painfully slow and you craved more. 

“ah there it is,” he clicked his tongue before roughly pressing the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. “i see we’ve now dropped the formalities,” his fingers fucked into you just a bit faster. if you listened closely you could here the muffled squelching behind your shorts. “if i knew it would take a couple fingers in your pussy to make you drop the attitude i wouldve done this sooner,” 

this caused you to whip your head towards him, ready to tell him he wasn’t off the hook just for making you feel good. but this was a part of ryusei's plan, immediately catching your lips with his before you could even speak a word. the kiss was messy. bullying his tongue into your mouth as he added a third finger inside of you. you got lost in the pleasure of it all, small moans muffled by his lips as your hips eagerly bucked into his hand. 

ryusei was the one to break the kiss, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip caught between his teeth for just a moment before he let go. he loved the way your lips were now glossy and puffy because of him. he was about to smash his lips against yours again until he saw something interesting in his peripheral. 

“look over there,” he cocked his head, motioning for you to look in that direction as his smile grew wider. there was the guy he beat the shit out of just a few days ago. ryusei just couldnt believe his luck, praying to any god up there that decided to smile upon him this one time. he turned his attention back to you, seeing how mortified you looked as you ogled the poor boy sitting on the other side of the room. he was just barely in view, the bandages over his nose leaving no room for doubt. ryusei slowly pulled his fingers out just enough to thrust them back in and get a reaction from you. you had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that would have you mewling under different circumstances. “do you think he saw,” ryusei's tone was different now, a lot less light hearted and more so possessive. his smile was downright intimidating as he saw worry paint your face. “i bet he wishes he was me,” he continued on, leaning over and whispering in your ear as you tried to hide yourself again. 

the grip you had on ryusei's arm only tightened as you neared your release, his dirty words accompanying his now brutal pace in your cunt becoming too much. ryusei had been prepared to draw this out, wanting to see you whine and beg for him to make you cum. but now he desperately needed to see you come undone while the idiot who tried to get with you was there. ryusei knew it was petty, but he didnt care. hooking a finger under your chin, he lifted your head, forcing to look at the guy who had simply offered you a drink at a party. he was typing away on his computer, most likely not even aware that the guy who sent him to the hospital was here. 

“ryu- wait-,” your whines sounded pathetic, even to your own ears as you felt the knot in your stomach only grow tighter. you shivered as he placed a wet kiss on your neck, lightly nipping at your skin.

“how do you think he’d feel if he knew what you were doing? such a dirty girl getting off on your boyfriends fingers in front of another guy,” whispering into your ear, ryusei was probably enjoying this even more than you and he wasnt even the one getting fucked. the tent in his pants had grown painfully tight but he decided it was definitely worth it. your thighs were trembling, your lips parted as you got closer to an orgasm. 

he let out a low groan, feeling the way you were clenching down on him. having had much experience with making you cum, he knew you were close. pulling his fingers out, he messily rubbed at your clit. watching with sickening pleasure as you hunched over, hands flying to grip the edge of the table as you came undone.

“atta girl thats it,” his voice was husky, dripping with pure lust as he helped you ride out your high. he only stopped when your hips started to jerk away from him because of the overstimulation. you looked beautifully fucked out as he pulled his hands out of your underwear, making sure to keep eye contact as he sucked each of his fingers clean. 

“you cant be serious,” you were in disbelief, absolutely mortified at ryusei’s display. burying your head in your hands out of embarrassment after he just shrugged his shoulders in response. 

“well,” he got out of the booth, stacking all of the now discarded books. “i think you’ve done enough work for today,” he couldnt bite back his smile even if he tried, being rather proud of himself  for all the hard work he’s done. “how about i go put these away and you go wait out in the car- or will you need help walking,” 

you flipped him off as you slid out after him, knowing you weren’t going to be able to live this down anytime soon. you followed him silently as he walked over to the return bin, not daring to look back where ryusei’s victim was sitting. 

“i hope you guys had a productive night,” the librarian said innocently, all too happy to take the books off of ryusei’s hand. with one glance at you, his smile only grew 

“we most certainly did,” 

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[abiatackerman]

Sweet Banters

⚔️Levi Ackerman X Female Scout Reader⚔️

Canon universe! Comedy! Flirting! Fluff! 1.1K words!

Summary: Levi scolds you for skipping meals, for not taking care of yourself. Instead of taking his concern seriously you tease Levi by calling him "Princess" and "Pookie", flustering him to your heart's content......

Tags: @laevieee @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @itsnathateasy @violentvaleska @anti-cupid @meowmewow7 @mikabella7

If you wanna be tagged let me know ✨Masterlist✨

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Levi walks into the medical room, with a clearly pissed expression on his face. The soldiers who he passes by look at him worriedly since it's rare he gets angry or pissed. But they don't give it too much thought since it isn't uncommon for him to visit infirmary as he gets hurt often and comes here for checkup regularly. But today, he is here for a different reason…

He pauses in the doorway, watching you work quietly, then enters without knocking.

"You know that's bad for your health...."

His voice is stern as usual as he finally speaks.

"Huh?"

You say as you look at him with confusion and suddenly remember that you skipped your meals due to the pressure of work.

"Oh that? Haha didn't think you'd know. Don't worry I'm used to it."

Levi's eyes darken at your response and crossing his arms over his chest he slowly approaches you.

"Used to it?! Being a doctor, you should realize you have to take care of yourself first. What the hell are you putting yourself to?"

He demanded, tone sharp.

"Wow wow.... Stop... Don't be a mom."

You chuckle at his sweet demands.

"Are you angry? Sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry. But I had a lot of work to do..."

Levi's already darkened expression darkens even further. He steps closer to you before he speaks again.

"Damn right I'm angry. I'm worried and annoyed you'd prioritize others above yourself even when you know you'll be no use to us if you get sick."

He growls, grabbing your chin, tilting your head up until both of your eyes meet.

"Why don't you care about your own wellbeing? Stop being an annoying brat, women!"

You chuckle at his unusual behaviour and grip his wrist which is gripping your chin. You speak in a sweet innocent tone that makes Levi more pissed.

"Careful captain, I might think you like me."

Levi scowls, his hand moves from your chin to your shoulder. His eyes are narrowed.

"Careful, brat! Wouldn't be wise to tease me right now."

He warns, his voice is low and sharp. He can almost feel his patience thinning.

"I know how to calm you down."

Levi's eyes narrow in disbelief at your words. ‘Calm him down?’ He wanted to scoof but he decided to know what you have on your sleeves since he's feeling curious. He gives you his usual stoic look.

"How exactly are you going to ‘calm me down’?"

He asks, there's a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You smile and bow as you take his wrist gently and kiss it's back.

Levi just froze.

"Forgive me princess, sorry I skipped meals. It's just a natural thing for me."

You speak in a manly tone, trying to suppress your laughter.

Levi still can't believe you just called him 'PRINCESS?!' No one ever did this before so he doesn't know how he should act.

But it's sure as hell he's feeling insulted.

"What the fuck was that?"

He muttered, eyes narrowing as the corner of his mouth twitched. He removes his hand from your grip and you can imagine his veins are jumping due to how pissed he actually is.

"You know what, captain? I believe I'm the only one in this world who has the audacity to tease you. So you better be careful and mind your own business if you don't wanna be pissed."

You say, laughing as you wink and press a kiss on his cheek and move away.

Levi freezes again, his whole body tensed as he feels the kiss. His pale cheeks flushes a little and he lifts his hand slowly, his fingers gently touching the spot where your lips had just been.

'When did she get so damn bold?!' he asks himself. He knows it's practically his own fault though... For behaving more gently and less coldly when it comes to you.... You've become more bold....

But what can he do? That damn cute face of yours.... That innocent smile... He just can't be rude facing this damn beautiful woman.

"The hell…"

He mutters, his heart pounding in his chest.

"What? Don't tell me you've never been kissed on the cheeks before."

You laugh as you sit on your chair making Levi glare at you. He does that to hide his shyness. As his cheeks flush a bit more, he quickly averts his eyes in a poor attempt to hide it. Damn it, why are you so bold? He suddenly feels like he is an inexperienced teenager again, nervous and flustered under his crush's teasing.

He shakes the thoughts, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to regain his composure.

"Well it's damn sure not something that happens often… Unlike useless you the female soldiers have much to do other than kissing my cheek."

He mutters, avoiding eye contact with you.

"I bet a lot of them want to kiss you like me, in my free time. But since they're cowards, they fear you. They should not... You're just a Pookie who deserves kisses. Our cute adorable princess."

Levi just goes stiff once again. Your words, coupled with the sweet tone, has something stirring in his chest.

He wants to snap at you again. Tell you to stop. But damn… That would mean telling you to stop calling him all these useless, embarrassing, lame, cute, affectionate names. And honestly, he can’t deny that they felt… Good. It feels nice to hear you call him those things.

He lets out an irritated huff as he pushes a hand through his hair.

"If you're gonna skip your meal next time.... I swear I'll drag your ass to the mass hall myself and will feed you in the most humiliating way possible in front of the brats. So you better not skip you meals again."

Before you can say anything he walk out of the door, shutting it behind him. A smile creeps up on his face.

He wanted to argue more with you... Maybe wanted you to flirt with him a bit more too.... But he has a lot of paperworks to do.

Sighing, he walks to his office, cursing Erwin for ruining his day with the shitty work.........

[deviantdaffodil]

lust

miguel o’hara x reader smut

im actually genuinely obsessed and deeply worried about my mental health . the grip spiderman 2099 has on me is unwavering and im afraid i will never get to escape

contains: breeding, marking/biting, office sex, spontaneous sex, stress relief sex fr, clawing, size difference, slightly jealous miguel, very dominating miguel, im obsessed with miguel, a more in character miguel this time i hope

A deep sigh escapes your throat. You really did not have to deal with O’hara right now; it’s been a long day. Sure, you were thankful he allowed you to stay in the spider society occasionally, despite just being a normal civilian, but god did he aggravate you. Often. He called you to his office for god knows what reason. You were anxious as you entered the office. Anyone in their right mind would be.

He gazes down at you, his stare is cold and his face is stoic. “Glad you could make it,” his tone is hard to read. He didn’t sound upset. But he also didn’t sound glad to see you. You keep quiet, deciding to just let him speak. His eyes are piercing through the dimly lit room; the sun was setting so the sky didn’t do much in terms of lighting the room up. Miguel continues to glare down at you, silent and judgmental. Instead of just allowing his platform to slowly make its way down to you, Miguel simply lunges down to you. He stands before you, still towering over you. His lack of communication was making you anxious as he would usually tear someone in here a new one if need be. He silently slips his arm around your waist and shoots a web up, bringing you both up to where his desk is located.

After being set down you recompose yourself with a chuckle. “I’m- I’m never gonna get used to that..” You pause for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. Heat radiated off your body and Miguel’s too. He still had his arm around you and you were too locked in place by a mix of fear and shock to move. “What is it that you wanted to see me about?” You look up at him.

He exhaled. He felt like he needed that. “This- This isn’t easy.. to admit,” Miguel mumbles. The claws of his suit had a grip on your waist, but you were still too paralyzed by shock to do anything. “I.. I want you all to myself. If I could keep you up here all to myself without seeming insane, I would, in a heartbeat.” He looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

This was absolutely news to you. You yourself had a thing for Miguel for the longest time. But you had no idea he wanted you this bad. Your mouth sat agape as he spoke to you. The Miguel O’hara.. wants you? All to himself? You would hang out with him while he worked sometimes, but you definitely didn’t see this kind of thing coming, especially not from someone as professional as him.

He turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. His gaze was fiery and he dug his claws into your shoulders. “You’re just.. such a relaxer to me. When you’re around, I don’t worry about all of.. this,” he motions to his desk. “But you.. you. You make it all better.” A growl rumbles in this throat. “I have a request- a-a suggestion maybe.”

Your jaw still hangs open. You shut your jaw and blink repeatedly. “What.. do you have in mind?”

A flash of excitement streaks across his face. “Sex,” he blatantly stated. He didn’t try to sugar coat it or anything. He wanted to fuck you more than anything. Even now, seeing you look up at him like that, in utter shock as he grips your shoulders has his cock aching. “I’m so.. so tired of seeing you with other spidermen. I need you.”

You paused, completely baffled. “Y-Yes!” You cried out, a little too eager for your liking. You hated to admit it, but you absolutely wanted him. “I-I mean, yes. Yes I’m okay with that.” Miguel did not hesitate. His claws immediately ripped open your clothes, exposing your chest. Miguel’s claws retracted and he immediately attacked your chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples, the other being massaged by his hand. “O-Oh my god!” Your impulse cry of ecstasy caused Miguel to groan.

He peppered kisses up your neck, his big, calloused hands massaging your breasts. “I’m going to make you mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, his voice is low and husky. “Can I bite you?” You nodded, lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your nipples. He groans as he drags his fangs across your skin before burying them into the crook of your neck. You let out a moan. His fangs sunk deep into your flesh, he was very careful not to release any venom though. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of what he was about to do to you. The stinging sensation of the bite slowly faded to pleasure. He keeps his mouth latched onto your neck, sliding his hand down your body and letting his hand rest on your ass, squeezing gently. He pulls his fangs out of you, blood dripping from them now. You look into his eyes and bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered breathlessly as you grab his face in your hands, slamming your lips together. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, he gently bites your lower lip and tangles his hands in your hair. “Miguel,” your voice was high pitched and whiny, more so than you wanted. Miguel didn’t mind and in fact reveled in the fact he was able to do this to you. He continues peppering your skin with kisses, sliding your shorts and underwear down your body. He then rips his own suit off his skin, instantly cooling his body and setting his cock free.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and bends you over his desk, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt. “I need you,” his chest is pressed against your back and he slowly thrusts his cock in between your thighs. “So plump and warm,” he moaned in your ear, sliding his hands under your chest pinching your nipples.

“Oh, Miguel,” you moan, your face pressed against the wood of his desk. “Fuck me, please,” you cried, your lip quivering in anticipation.

Miguel slid his hands down to your hips, lightly raking his claws down your flesh, small beads of blood forming at the scratches left behind. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing his tip in your wet folds. You whimper in anticipation, then Miguel stuffed the tip of his cock in your hole. He was so big it felt like he was ripping you in half. He was griping your hips and digging his claws into them for better leverage. “So little,” he muttered as he pounded into you, “so.. tight..” His thrusts were shallow, working his way up to filling you completely. “Can you take it all? Do you think you can handle all of my big cock?” He was babbling while he thrusted, drunk on your pussy already.

“Please Miguel,” your small frame whimpered for him. “More please..”

Miguel pulled out almost all of the way, a whimper escaped you when due to feeling empty. He spat on his cock and slowly pushed his throbbing, swollen cock into your quivering pussy. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the two of you moaned at the new feeling. Miguel began thrusting wildly, pounding hard in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Wh-Where?” he asked, in reference to where you wanted him to cum.

You turned back to face him as best as you could. Looking into his eyes you say, “Inside.” This sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding deep into you at animalistic speeds. You were sure if you were on your back you’d have a bulge from his swollen head protruding out. He latches his fangs onto your other shoulder as he growls, completely feral, and cums inside of you. You cry out as he bites you again, your walls clenching around his cock as you cum. He continues thrusting sloppily, letting your tight cunt milk all of his seed. He retracts his claws and holds himself up over you, hands at either side of your head. He pulls out of you and you can feel sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Miguel.. You ruined my clothes.”

“Mierda.. Yeah I did.”

[vetteltea]

Green Eyes [CL16 Ending]

Those green eyes. The ones you had married.

Charles visibly breathes out when he sees you, sitting up, blinking towards him. He wants to rush to you, to cradle you in his arms and tell you to your face how much he loves you, cherishes you more than anything else the universe has ever or will ever create.

The moment is more visualized in his head. In reality, Charles’ knees buckle, crouching by the door, tears flowing freely from his eyes. The flowers he had picked up from the giftshop are still in his grasp, almost on the floor as he tries to compose himself, to make his legs strong again. 

“Charles.” You speak softly. “It’s okay.” 

That seems to be enough to draw him further, to stand him up and get to her bedside, placing himself in the plastic chair, hands abandoning the bouquet of flowers and holding your face, a hand pressed to either of your cheeks as the tears pool around his lower lash line. His breathing is erratic, he’s scared. It’s like you’ll be pulled away from him at any moment, he doesn't want that. He cannot have that. 

“Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you still hurt?” His mind can’t catch up with his mouth, a barrage of questions which will surely send him into a spiral. Your heart is racing, you were certain if connected to a monitor, they would think you’re spinning out of control. This time, your actions overtake you, resting a hand on either side of Charles’ rambling face and pulling him to mesh your lips together.

This time, you kiss Charles Leclerc. 

His words immediately cease, a tiny whine leaving his lips as he presses back against you, hands freezing on your face and pulling you closer. He tells himself that if he lets go, you’ll be gone. You’ll stop kissing him. 

The idea of somebody else, of Carlos, is immediately wiped from your mind. He’s not Charles. He’s not your husband. 

Eventually, you have to for the sole reason that you need air. You gently remove yourself, foreheads pressing against one another, the only sounds radiating around the room being the soft catch of breath from yourself and your husband’s racing heartbeat. 

“I’m okay.” You whisper. The quietness sounds unusual, clearing your throat and trying again. “They said it’s a precaution. Dehydration, Stress, that sort of-” 

“-Stress?” Charles cuts you off. The guilt begins to settle in his stomach. Stress. Following him around each weekend. Stress. Wondering whether he’s going to come home to you each and every night. He was the one who had- who was-

“I’m sorry.” Charles murmurs, he’s not able to form his sentences properly. Your mind isn’t configuring correctly, convinced he’s still talking about not being there when you had been taken to hospital, about your current health. You don’t think as you shrug, letting him apologize before you start to speak again.

“Charles. It’s okay. You were in media with Joris-”

“Merde. No, that isn’t what I'm apologizing for.” He freezes, the pregnant pause in the room only growing by the moment. Is he really going to do this? Right here, right now. His wife- your eyes are wide, waiting for him to continue speaking. 

When your hand reaches out to overlay his, he feels the fingers, the lack of your cool wedding band on your ring finger, instead it rests in his pocket. It’s as if your contact has flipped a switch, remoting him to continue speaking. 

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, making sure you didn’t interrupt with an immediate acceptance. “I’m sorry for what I’ve made you go through for the past year.” His second hand rests atop of yours, he’s so cold, it sends a shiver through your arms. “I didn’t want to be married, I didn’t want to be settled but…it was for the best. It was for my career. I never- I never thought about how you must have felt the same way.”

He’s correct; when you had been told by your father of the arrangement, it was the last thing you had ever desired. Being married to a Formula One driver may have been a dream, but not at the expense of finding love. 

“I didn’t give you a chance. You looked-” He pauses changing the past tense. “You look after me. On my best and worst days, you were there. And what did I do? I kept pushing you away, pushing myself towards women who were not my wife.” 

“Charles.” You try to speak, images of his mistress flickering through your mind. “You loved her-”

“-I didn’t love her.” It was true. “I desired her. She was something which reminded me of when I was single. I kept…I wanted to hold onto what I had previously been, that I was single, fun and free.”

You shrug, looking down to where his hands interlocked over your own, careful not to nudge or injure you. “Charles, I get it. It was an arranged marriage, I never should have caught feelings. Not when-”

“I’m not finished.” Charles shakes his head, smiling now. “You were there. You stayed there, you were always there with a kind word and a warm heart. And the entire time that you were there…I ignored it.” He shakes his head. “And it took me so long to realize that what I wanted was a marriage.“ 

“It took-” You pause, you’re not able to be cruel. Your husband isn’t stupid, he knows what you were about to say. 

“-It took him. Yes.” He pauses. “To realize that all I want is you. That all I want is to come home to your arms, to take you for dinner at all the places I should have. To take you for boat rides and tell you how beautiful you look with wet hair and that perfect grin.” 

By this point, your mouth hangs ajar, your heart swelling. He’d never spoken so…honestly to you before. Eyes flicker down to his fingers, how they reach around for his right-hand pocket, sliding out a pocket square, the blue fabric which was ever-present at your wedding all those months ago. 

“I know you will never be able to forgive me for what I did.” He lets the fabric fall away, revealing your own wedding band. Immediately, your eyes snap down to your fingers, only just realizing that the ring had been removed. It wasn’t uncommon; after the six month mark, you had only worn the ring when appearing in public. Even now, it rests away from your finger, instead in your husband’s grasp.

“You can tell me to go right now.” His tone has raised, he’s clearly terrified that is what you’ll want. “I’ll go. You can have the house, the cars, everything. You’ll never see me again and I promise that.” Tears are pooling at his eyes again and you feel your stomach drop. He doesn't want that, of course he does not, but the fact he’s willing to let you go if it will make you happy burns through your heart. 

“But.” He lifts the ring, holding it just over your hand, letting the glistening band reflect across the hospital lights. “I want you to stay. I want to stay with you.” He sighs, his shoulders still so tense. “I promise you. I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to make you feel loved forever. I- I love you.” 

Your heart skyrockets; if it was possible for an organ to spontaneously combust and heal itself in a split second, you were certain it had happened to you. Your husband lifts the ring further, taking your left hand in his own, eyes still full of hope, of tears, of love. 

“Will you marry me, again?” His voice is so quiet. You’re so overwhelmed. “We can do it again. Our wedding. Just us, whatever we want.” It flickers through your mind; somewhere quiet, intimate. A soft white dress that is completely different from your original; rings slid onto one another's' fingers as you promised love all over again. But this time, it could be real. He would look you in the eye to say it, not off to the side, clearly refuting his role in the deal. 

This time, he looks into your eyes. 

“I promise.” 

This time, you can’t hold back the tears in your own eyes, nodding as the ring is slid back onto your finger. You can’t describe it, the way the cool band belongs there, it’s a part of you. 

No. The man sliding the finger onto your finger is the part of you. Wordlessly, Charles pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to every inch of your face, soft lips caressing each part, letting your head fall to his shoulder, breathing synchronized as a hand trails up your back, keeping his wife oh-so-close to him. 

“Let’s go back to the house.” He murmurs. “Let’s go back home.”

[goddessapostle]

Tease

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya Nakahara, GN!Reader Summary: You’ve never met this elusive Dazai, but he sure knows how to piss Chuuya off.

1.1k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: requested by @acidsbeats. Thank you for choosing to help with the @ficsforgaza initiative, and thank you so much for your patience!! I hope it meets your expectations.

You’ve never met this elusive Dazai, but he sure knows how to piss Chuuya off. 

The first you heard of him was a once peaceful afternoon, until Chuuya stormed into your apartment. Your poor wall broke where the doorknob hit it, a spiderweb of cracks that spread a near foot in diameter. Instead of addressing the new hole in your wall, he went straight for your wine. It was the cheap kind, the kind you don’t mind but know he doesn’t like. 

He had half the bottle gone by the time you followed him into the kitchen. It swung in his left hand, his right struggling to light a cigarette. 

Your nose wrinkled when you plucked the cigarette from his mouth. “No smoking inside,” you told him. “You know that.” 

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “Just ran into an old–” 

He hesitated and you raised a brow. An old friend? An old ex? 

“An old coworker,” Chuuya said, and you understood his reluctance — your relationship was still fresh, at that point, and you had no idea what his job entailed, just that it paid well. 

He never gave the name of his coworker that night. But it became a habit of his — coming to you after an encounter, pacing through your house while ranting. You’re not even sure he realized he let the name Dazai slip one night. All he can think about is that ‘annoying, suicide-obsessed maniac that doesn’t have the balls to commit’. Chuuya’s words. 

That is all you know of Dazai, but you find reason to thank him: Chuuya is absolutely adorable when riled up in that specifically post-Dazai way. He’s been more careful since he patched up the crack in your wall, but he still comes and paces your kitchen. He now brings his own booze — sometimes wine, sometimes whiskey — and always pours some for you before downing half the bottle. You tend to forget what he says in the moment, instead focusing on the way his body moves. 

His hands jerk in every direction, steadying only to prevent the spill of his drink. His fancy designer shoes clack against the linoleum of your kitchen. His face flushes as he rants, using such creative insults you can’t help writing them down for later use. 

You always let him rant for a few minutes — it’s good for his health to vent — but never long. While venting is healthy, obsession isn’t. (You also don’t have time, between work and sleep, but he doesn’t need to know that.) 

No matter what you say, however, he continues on his rant. There is only one thing you can say that causes him to pause: 

“You must like him a lot.” 

Or something similar. Every time you say it, Chuuya freezes. Then he slowly, slowly, turns his gaze to you. He struggles to keep his anger in check — already exasperated by Dazai, it takes a lot of control not to explode. He may be quick to anger, but it was never a side he directed at you. 

“Excuse me?” he hisses. 

You smiled. “You’re just so passionate about him. Makes me wonder what I have to do for you to treat me like that.” 

His breath catches and he clings to you, choosing to forget the mess that caused him grief. The next day finds you in good spirits, having been lavished in praise all through the night. 

And though you may tease, you never mean anything by it. You know Chuuya loves you; it’s why he comes to you to vent his frustrations. You've always trusted him. You always will. 

Even when you realize his job is dangerous. Every time there’s a ruckus in Yokohama, he shows up ranting about Dazai. You expect it at this point, and just like clockwork, he shows up one Friday night. 

“That prick,” he growls as he storms through your kitchen. “He has the nerve to just show up and boss me around!” He drinks from the bottle — squat and square, filled with an amber liquid. “I never worked under him in the first place! I was the one who decided to join! I didn’t follow him like a goddamn dog!” 

“Oh, definitely,” you say, only half paying attention. Most of your focus is on the drink he poured for you. He chose a lowball glass, so it’s whiskey of some sort. Your nose wrinkles when you sniff it. It smells mostly of alcohol, lacking the notes of smoke and ash his usual liquor carries. 

Your lips quirk up as you check the time. It’s been ten minutes, give or take, so it’s time to interrupt. 

Heaving a mock sigh, you pick up your glass and take a sip. The whiskey is strong and stocky, made to intoxicate and little else. “If only you paid me this much attention.” 

Like always, Chuuya pauses. He’s facing away from you, so you can’t see his face, but you can see his shoulders droop. He sighs and sits at the kitchen table, in the chair next to you. His hands find yours, and he squeezes tight. 

And that is... odd. He’s never deflated so quickly before. 

“Y’know you mean the world to me, right?” he asks. “That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, right?” 

“Of course, baby,” you say. You free one hand to run your fingers through his hair. He rests his cheek in your palm, and you stifle a chuckle at his pouted lips. Even after so much confirmation, every time you meet, he’s still unsure. Still afraid you might leave him. 

Is he so used to being left behind that he cannot handle such simple teasing? 

You pull his face to yours, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. “Rough day?” you ask. 

“You have no idea.” Chuuya downs the whiskey left in your glass. “Move in with me.” 

“Pardon?” When you meet his eyes, you find them cold and steely. This is not the Chuuya you know. This is a Chuuya at work, with an edge of danger in his gaze. 

He takes your hands in his, squeezing them tight again. “Dazai knows about you. No one should know about you.” 

“And that’s bad.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it makes Chuuya hesitate before he answering. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Dazai is an ass, but he’s got morals now.” You raise a brow. “He’s not who you should worry about.” 

“Your job,” you say. “You're worried about someone there.” 

He swallows, but admiration shines in his gaze. “Move in with me. My apartment has better security. I want you to be safe.” His eyes soften, and his lips tilt in a small smile. 

“Besides, you can’t say anything about Dazai if you’re the one who lives with me.” 

Who are you to argue with such sound logic? 

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part two

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part: receiving the Princes at Highgarden and a little flashforward.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread < < < previous part, part one: read here > > > next part, part three: read here

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, more set up, depiction of anxiety, i think that's it and that's suspicious

You winced when the seamstress pinched your waist again while hemming the gown you modeled in front of a trio of mirrors atop a pedestal. "Apologies, my Lady," the woman with a heavy Braavosi accent excused with a quirked thick brow, "I appear off my clock, think I am seeing double."

"Expected after such long travels," you nodded in agreement. "Perhaps we should pause to let you rest, we can resume later - "

"No, no, nope, we have no time," the jittery ginger Maester Keiff Foral insisted, hands rushing in a flurry from where he was pacing behind you, "we have to get your dresses done now before the Princes arrive!"

"This is so superficial - "

"Stand straighter."

You huffed, "Tell me in earnest, why are we even entertaining these proposals?"

"Because war - "

"Not our war."

"Ours now that you've claimed a dragon!"

You sighed, just watching Madam Oraena Ostiris work in the reflection. "So we come to it," you whisper.

"To what, child?"

"You are angry I have claimed Balerion!"

Maester Foral pursed his lips, moving around to sit at the available table. "Angry? At you? I am weary," he admitted. "Bringing The Black Dread here, it has put a target on us, my Lady. The Greens and Blacks both were content to look the other way, we had declared ourselves neutral; they need Harrenhal more than they need Highgarden - and Oldtown's on their own, but now? Now, your dragon has beckoned them to our door."

"I can always refuse them," you mused.

"I do not know how the Princes would handle rejection from you in that dress," Foral chuckled. "Your father would choke if he saw you, my Lady."

"I suppose it is good he will not see again," you sighed, petting the material of your new gown. It was modern, chic, new; albeit revealing and daring, it was different. "I suppose I should ask, is there news?"

"No, my Lady. Your father makes no change."

In the tallest tower of the Highgarden Keep, your father, Lord Paramount Tyrell, laid in a bed; unmoving, unwaking, still breathing, as he has for the past 4 years following a swift and sudden infection. Your Targaryen Princess mother passed just a year prior to King Viserys, leaving you to inherit the lands, riches, titles, and all that comes with Lordship Ladyship of The Reach. This was until your brother, Ryden, now ten, came of age in another four years. Technically, he could assume Lordship at ten-and-three, but it was so stipulated he would remain under education until ten-and-four, pending your father's health.

"What do you think I should do, Maester?" You asked stiffly. "Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys both fly for us this day, what should I do?"

"Well, what feels appropriate?"

"As if that matters," you scoffed. He waited as you and Madam Ostiris chittered over your dress; making necessary changes in posture to let the seamstress hem and sew.

"Humor me, pretend it does," Maester Foral spoke to you through the mirror.

You frowned, rolling your eyes, "Well, ideally, I'd have time to get to know them both before being forced to choose who I want to bind myself to for life."

"Reasonable."

"For the love of the Gods, be helpful, Keiff, or get out," you huffed. "Do not just agree with me, please."

He chuckled, "All right, all right. You are the acting Lady of the House, you hold more power than you realize, and you now ride the largest dragon in the known world. So, receive them both and offer accommodations for the week their mothers have bartered for, and in that time, make clear you wish to spend equal time with them both before you declare for either side."

"I'm able... To do that?"

"Why not? If Rhaenyra can be Queen, why can you not take a week to get to know suitors you might possibly wish to spend your life with? Times are changing, my Lady, just look at the dragon you now ride, the position you hold." Keiff paused to take a long, deep breath, "You know, all-in-all, perhaps this will not be too bad."

"How so?"

"I hear both princes are rather becoming."

Your eyes rolled as Madam Ostiris snickered and softly mused, "Sounds as if, at least, whoever you choose will be someone pleasing to look at. There are worse fates, worse prospects of husbands, my Lady."

You hummed in acknowledgement, admiring your figure cut in the dress, directing to Keiff, "Do me a favor, old friend?"

"Of course, my Lady, anything."

"Keep me logical. If I fall prey to emotions, keep my head straight - I want to make the best, most logical, strategic pact for our people as possible."

"Do not be so pessimistic. Love can be so - "

"This isn't about love, it's about strategy, and at the very least, compatibility. A single week to decide who I will spend this life with, a week to consider which scales I tip in this war. This is about survival and stability, Maester, not love."

He sighed, watching Madam Ostiris tighten the laces of your exposed corset in a finishing touch to your attire. Since you were a babe, Maester Keiff Foral served your family; a surrogate father, nanny, tutor, friend, brother, the fun uncle you run away to when pissed at your parents. He hated how repugnant you sounded at love - wanting that magic for you, never wanting your marriage to be akin to a sales transaction.

Maester Foral, however, knew you to be a noble and honorable woman and if duty compels, someone who would agree to a marriage pact for other's benefit. So, he wasn't surprised by your determination to do your duty, but the way you spoke, the hostile acid used when speaking about marriage, about love - it saddened him. He knew you had so much love to give with nowhere to put it, nor were you equipped to accept authentic love - let alone give it a chance to let a flame catch and ashen.

One of the servants entered the chamber, hesitating only a moment before informing, "There's been a dragon sighted, my Lady. The watchmen predict no farther than 10 minutes from our location."

"Thank you," you breathed, Madam Ostiris finishing her work, allowing you time to finish prepping to your pleasure. "Maester Foral, please, uh, gather members of our court to the Throne Room. We'll receive the Princes. Oh, we'll need their rooms finalized, please, send some maids to double check the guest chambers are ready, as well. Ensure they're in separate wings."

"My Lady," he agreed, bowing out of the room to go do as you asked while you heaved a grand huff of breath.

There came a long pause as you looked at your dress, nodding in approval. "It becomes you," Madam Ostiris noted casually, packing up her sewing kit.

"Hmm?" You hummed.

"Power," she smirked.

"She's right," a voice chimed, Grandmother Celia came into the room; lips spread in a smirk, hands clasped before her. "Power becomes you, sweet petal," she chuckled. "That dress is exquisite."

"Madam Ostiris is a genius," you complimented, stepping off the pedestal. "I'm glad you're here. Tell me," your arms spread in bravado, "is this appropriate to meet our royal convoy in?"

"I would say," she approved, petting the skirt you wore. "Thank you, Madam Ostrich."

"Ostiris," you swiftly corrected with a smirk. "Madam, you've been shown your quarters, yes?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you."

"Thank you," you dismissed softly, watching her scoop her personal sewing kit into her arms and scurry out of the room. "Grandmother," you directed, pouring a goblet of sweet wine, "would you attend today's affair with me? I do not wish to stand alone."

"Maester Foral will be there."

"I would feel stronger with another Tyrell at my side."

She chuckled and took your arm, patting it in assurance. "I will always stand with you, my girl," she assured. "Are you prepared for their arrival?"

"As best I can be. I feel as if I am standing trial."

Celia chuckled, watching you take a nervous gulp. "To what crime?"

"Claiming to be a Targaryen is a heinous declaration, bordering on a punishable offense. None believed me, said I did not look akin to my claims; now I ride Balerion and am fielding marriage proposals from Dragon Princes. It's as if I am defending myself from tension that brewed in my mother's generation, and none of it feels real."

Celia nodded, "And yet, you carry this responsibility beautifully."

"Begrudgingly," you corrected with a smirk. "Shall we?" You finished your wine, setting the goblet down and offering your arm to her withered hand.

"To the Throne Room?"

"Courtyard," you corrected. "I intend to meet the royal envoy."

"Then we shall meet inside," she decided, "there's no chance I'm traipsing through the mud. Nor nearing your beast."

You agreed, watching her part as you were swept up by a swarm of maids and guards all escorting you towards the front of the Keep.

"My Lady," your usual lady's maid rushed up to you, "there's a dragon - "

"Yes, Eyme, I'm aware," you smirked, waving her to follow. "Did you have the guest chambers made up?"

"Yes, my Lady, in the East and West wings."

You nodded, "And the kitchens?"

"Stocked and preparing tonight's welcome feast," Eyme confirmed. The winds swept your dress skirt back when the doors opened, surging down the stairs as more of your Household Guard joined the procession.

"Open the gates," you commanded, leading the way out of the Keep. Things seemed relatively calm as the dragon in the distance was a growing speck, but then, the peace shattered when Balerion lifted his head and released a loud, reverberating growl. "Shit," you muttered, "stay here, stand at the ready!"

You rushed to your dragon laying in the valley beneath the Highgarden Keep, trying to use broken High Valyrian but making absolutely no sense - turning into a blubbering mess out of panic. There was no true calming your beast, especially when he lifted onto his feet and bared his teeth in threat. You cursed again.

Balerion stretched out, making you keep pace at his shoulder as the distant dragon drew closer. "You know them?" You asked The Black Dread casually, sighing and patting the scaly hide of his ankle - the only place you could honestly reach. "Is it a familiar smell?"

He grumbled and in truth, you had no honest idea if he understood the Common Tongue or not - but after so many years, perhaps he did to an extent.

"They're guests," you warned your dragon, who breathed heavily; shoulders hulking, leering in threat as the other dragon became more defined. "They're kin," you sighed. "One is your old rider's son, and the other, his grandson. Did you ever meet her? The Black Queen, Rhaenyra? Daughter of Viserys?"

Balerion huffed and you smirked, successfully distracting him. "I haven't either," you told him. "We'll judge them fairly, yes? You sniff out their dragons, see if they smell deceitful." When he grumbled, you patted his hide again, "Good lad." The dragon began it's decent, you musing, "Here we go..."

The first dragon that touched down was tiny in comparison, your curiosity peaking when another dot was spotted in the distance. "Easy," you told Balerion, "Vermax is young, he's not a threat." Your dragon grumbled as the dark haired Prince dismounted. "Vhagar approaches, she's who makes me nervous. Remain vigilant, that's a good lad."

You did not move far from your dragon, standing a few paces beside him as his head leered in an arch to watch the exchange as you faced the Prince. His dragon leered at your own; hissing and spitting, backing up a few paces as you smirked. When he was close enough, you greeted, "Welcome to Highgarden, my Prince."

"Lady Tyrell," he halted himself, eyeing Balerion with mistrust. "What a pleasure it is to make your formal acquaintance. I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

You relaid your full name, using your manners to ask, "I trust your travels were safe?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you," he nodded, clearing his throat. "Though I regret to ask - "

"Vermax will be provided ample feeding," you smirked, clocking his breath of relief. "We've prepared for your arrival... And mine own, I suppose."

"I've often wondered, how much does The Black Dread consume?"

"Enough to feed several villages," you chuckled, glancing at the large head that dropped beside you. You laid an arm on him in a show of affection, "He's very good at self sustaining; though, I buy his love by feeding him livestock. I hope it makes up for my inability to speak High Valyrian."

"Perhaps we could arrange some lessons," he smiled prettily.

"That would be appreciated," you nodded. "In fact, I was hoping for your opinion on a tutor, while you're here. I'd like to learn of my heritage, but being able to communicate with Balerion is paramount."

"Of course, my Lady."

You watched as Prince Jacaerys was welcomed into your court as Vhagar eventually made her descent. You required a moment or two to collect yourself, swallowing nervously in the presence of the Velaryon Prince; a young lad you found almost dreadfully attractive. Despite his thick head of dark, luscious curls, he was every bit Targaryen you were - perfectly one half, on your mother's side.

For some reason, to the Realm, the mother's lineage is erased and forgotten - but blood doesn't lie. Neither do genetics, but that was a conversation for a different day.

You thought the Prince was well groomed; his thin face angular, high structured, and sharp, framed by his corkscrew curls. Though lean, he appeared to have the makings of muscle; standing taller than you, freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks, lips plump and perfectly pouting.

Balerion bellowed when faced with Vhagar - even at a distance. You were unsure what word to use, but smoothly, you heard Jace provide the High Valyrian word for clam, "Lykiri."

You repeated the word with a stutter, Jace gently repeating himself to allow your tongue to form the foreign word. After another try or two, you were rolling your pronunciation; Balerion shifting his weight and growling, even under your patient hand. You muttered a few words in the Common Tongue, the beast glowering with literal smoke wafting from his nostrils as the One-Eyed Prince stalked across the short distance between dragons.

"Prince Aemond," You greeted kindly, "welcome to Highgarden."

As you went through the usual spiel, you got a good look at the Kinslayer Prince. He was handsome in a much more unique way; perhaps unconventional, but certainly alluring. His jaw (and nose) came to a point, his expression full with his single eye; stoic yet oddly expressive. His pin-straight platinum locks were down, pieces at his temple tied back simply to accommodate the strap of his eyepatch. His cheeks were chiseled. His scar was a dark pinkish-tan against porcelain flesh, indicating years of healing. Thin, bowed, quirked lips - even with a neutral and passive expression.

Handsome, indeed.

After hearing your court greet Aemond respectfully, attention had shifted towards you again. You told both Jacaerys and Aemond smoothly, "I hope to come to know the extent of our hospitality during your stay here. I apologize for greeting you outside the bounds of the Keep - I was unsure how Balerion would react to visitors. And I should apologize for our lack of Dragonpit, I understand the anxiety you might feel from leaving your dragons exposed; there's never been need to host dragons at Highgarden before."

"Mh," Prince Aemond hummed, "though appreciated, no apology is necessary, my Lady. Thank you for granting me your audience. The King was most pleased to learn you accepted our parlay invitation."

"No thanks necessary, my Prince," you shot back, saving Jace from rebuttal, "but I have yet to bend the knee, and therefore, encourage you do not mistake my hospitable curiosity to receive your envoy, my Prince, for alleged proclamation of support in the war ravaging the Realm. Yet while I do not declare for either of your sides yet, it's akin to alining with both." You paused, lips straightening in tight emotion, "I've learned those who refuse kings - or their kin - end in demise, so, at the very least, I'd be a fool to reject your entry under my roof."

"Nevertheless, the King appreciates your cooperation."

Balerion growled as if in disagreement with the term "King", but you just hushed like a parent would a child, "Aht! You behave."

Seeing them both offer kind amusement to your words, you noted how effortless Jace appeared and how Aemond's expression appeared to host veiled impatience. You remembered this wasn't some romantic meet-cute, but a very disingenuous way to marry; to find a partner; to start a new life - what very well could be the rest of your life.

Something in your gut stirred.

You were pretty as a petal, protected by dragon hide; knowing that when people saw you, they saw a meek, unmarried maiden and concocted their own narrative, snap judgements, harsh in their opinion. They thought you looked weak - a death sentence in this day and age; looking the part of vulnerable, all but offering for others to take advantage and manipulate you - only to dine on them. As dragons do.

Pretty girls were viewed as prey, appearing as easy targets. It was sickeningly frustrating to always be the bigger person; to remain ladylike, soft, kind, seen and never heard even in the face of adversity.

Like your grandmother said, it was time to be a dragon - who don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Dragons leave absolutely zero room for disrespect, and they never ask for respect - it's given, warranted, collected, nonverbally demanded all out of fear. Respect universally bestowed to the top apex predator who could end life in a single stream of fire, crush anyone or anything under their legs, decommission entire cities; talons that can easily eviscerate, teeth that could shred human flesh and bones like cheese on a grater.

Be a dragon.

So, you smirked, "Follow me, then, my Princes, Grandmother will be eager to meet you."

Two guards walked ahead of you, leading the procession into the Highgarden Keep. Maids and other guards placed themselves strategically between the Princes, but it seemed the Prince in green leather followed you closely at an even pace, lanky legs moving him with a distinct swagger; feeling almost magnetized to you while gliding through the Keep.

Upon entering the Throne Room (which wasn't a real "throne room" but instead, the room the Lord of the Reach would sit when receiving his peers, guests, counterparts, and citizens), you saw Maester Keiff Foral with your grandmother, Celia, standing at the front of the room with your brother, Ryden, around the seat you were to occupy.

Not feeling secure enough to sit in your new dress, you remained standing while introducing the two Princes - but it was still obvious, you were at the helm of Highgarden.

"Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys wish to discuss an alliance between our Houses - we are going to hear their marriage petitions," you announced officially, finally taking a seat - but in a perch, teetering at the very edge. "Now," you cleared your throat, "you both sent words of parlay that we have agreed to hear. Are you both designated to offer terms of negotiation?"

"Yes, my Lady," Jace nodded, your eyes shifting to Aemond, who nodded and repeated his words.

With a hum, you continued, "Then I encourage you both to listen closely. As Lady of this House, I will do whatever is right by my people - not this war. I am not currency for either of you to collect, this is about negotiating terms of peace. Nobody today is present under false pretenses, yes?"

There was a murmured wave of agreement.

"Then we are all aware that this alliance means the fighting rights to Balerion." There was another few nods. "I would see peace return to our land, to this Realm, but first, we have much to discuss. So, I will offer you both one week. In this proposed week, I will attempt to spend equal time with you both and learn of you; since marriage is served over a lifetime, I want to be sure about the man I willingly spend it with. Is this agreeable?"

"I accept your terms," Aemond nodded.

"Oh, you haven't heard my terms yet, love, sit tight," you mused; longer fingernails drumming on the armchairs. "Is this agreeable? A one-week term?"

"Yes, my Lady, most gracious of you," Jace agreed.

Aemond's head tilted to the side, slowly regarding those who ruled The Reach - all watching him like a wild dragon. "Tell me," Aemond leered, "when Lord Tyrell passes, who inherits Highgarden?"

You scoffed gently.

"Lady Tyrell, my Prince, until the new Lord Tyrell comes of age," Maester Keiff Foral answered strongly. "Your father, Gods rest his soul, was a peaceful King and the Realm is forever grateful that the Quiet Age lasted this long after King Jaehaerys ruled - but Viserys was not the first man to name a woman heir. Yes, first woman to the Iron Throne, but there are known keeps and kingdoms under the leadership of women - The Reach, for example. The Vale and Dorne, too."

"I am well aware. Does Lord Tyrell have any bastards?"

"Uh, n-no, my Prince. None that are known...?"

"Can anyone lay claim to her inheritance?" Aemond asked plainly, cutting off anyone ready to scold him for his brash questions.

"No, but she is expected to rule until her brother ages, and Gods forbid, if something happens to Ryden, she is to birth presumably the next Lord of Highgarden," Keiff answered slowly, as if piecing the idea together in real time.

"Then, forgive my hesitance, but why bother with Prince Jacaerys?" Aemond dared. "If he's to inherit the Throne," he mocked, "Lady Tyrell would have to forfeit her duties and the family's ancestral seat for a time, produce heirs for her husband's line, stand at the King's side when she's meant to rule here. Begs the question who Prince Jacaerys means to propose for this alliance? Surely, not himself as he's previously betrothed - to his cousin, uh, stepsister, Lady Baela?"

"And what of your engagement to Floris Baratheon?" Jace shot back.

Sure, his question was being answered (both engagements broken) and actually spurred conversation around the room, but Aemond couldn't hear anymore. Yes, he started this, but salty, warm, pressurized waters had flooded the chamber through sealed windows to trap Aemond in waves of anxiety. Suddenly, his nerves compressed, lungs emptied but couldn't refill; veins dilated to accommodate his worrisome racing heart, throat closing immediately after.

Jacaerys... Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who would be a legitimized, recognized, acknowledged Targaryen upon succession... Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jace... Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace...

Memories flashed to silently - privately - remind Aemond of that day when Vhagar killed Lucerys - the little bastard brother of Jacaerys. That infamous day haunts Aemond, feeling unfamiliar guilt and shame with himself - which didn't say much considering Aemond's entire life was a steady-handed written tragedy. Now, the other object of his ire would face off with him as Luke had... Vying for a Lady's hand...

Aemond wondered if Jace - being older with dropped testicles - would scream, and if so, would it be like Luke's? Shrill? Or something "deeper"? Lucerys screamed in sheer terror before being swallowed whole; arguably the day that started the war, but definitely being first blood shed (unless you believed that to be Lord Beesbury). Blood was going to be spilled one way or another! This was war, after all!

Aemond hated being mere feet from Jacaerys, but for the sake of the Realm, he restrained himself.

Yet nobody in that room was stronger than Jace - who stood, patiently, pleasantly, mere feet from the man who murdered his beloved baby brother in brutal cold blood. There would never be a more opportune time to strike for vengeance, but Jace kept his cool - insisting to himself that if he remained patient, he'd get his chance. Or perhaps karma would get Aemond! But one thing was for sure: Jace refused to "lose" you to this Kinslayer. So, he kept calm.

Aemond was sent to Highgarden by his mother; by the Green Council; by anyone not himself. Jace, sure, had been sent by the Black Council - but he had wanted to do his duty to his mother, in this war; to history. Jace felt honored to be received by your Ladyship - and by Gods, it showed.

Eventually, you spoke clearly through both Prince's internal thoughts, turmoil, and monologues:

"In this week, you are both welcomed guests, and all of Highgarden's amenities, resources, and services are at your disposal, my Princes. What livestock can be spared, your dragons will be fed - though do not be startled if they venture off with Balerion, he enjoys hunting in the surrounding areas. You're both to be hosted in different wings of the Keep," you laid out plainly, "and under no circumstances shall violence nor taunting be permitted. I understand the animosity between you two, there's been plenty of rumors - so I will not see bloodshed in nor around my home," you directed at Aemond, "to one another, myself, family, or dragon; nor any staff members, occupants of the Keep, and / or citizens. Can you both agree to these terms?"

"I agree," Jacaerys almost instantly accepted.

"I agree," Aemond nodded stiffly.

"Good. Then, come next Sunday, I endeavor to have a decision for you. I ask you both to consider a single question that I will expect answered in the coming days: what role would you have me play in this war? What would you see me do? Have me do?" There came a pause. "If there are no questions, I think we have much to discuss - privately."

When neither Prince argued, you and Maester Foral lead the terms of negotiation. You worried mostly over how The Reach would either suffer or benefit; hardly caring about personal expectations, you wanted to know who would overhead the barley production that season - since ale was so precious to the Realm. You wanted to know who would be funding the new irrigation system. You wanted to know how quickly either side would retreat once their alliance was made - essentially asking how long this war was expected to last post alliance. You wanted to know how best to help your people, fearing they'd suffer if you chose the wrong side to aline with.

After several hours, you understood the terms set by the Blacks and Greens; insisting they disperse for supper and get a fresh start for tomorrow. When the chambers emptied, leaving you, Keiff, and Celia, it was eerily quiet for several long heartbeats.

"What is it?" Maester Foral asked, leaning his crossed arms on the tabletop. "What do you think, my Lady?"

"This feels... I don't know, futile?" You struggled to think rationally, sighing deeply. "Like, what's the point? Rhaenyra isn't gonna let her claim to the Iron Throne go. And Aegon is more likely to tap dance naked in the streets of King's Landing than stand off the Throne. His mother, I hear, would probably shove him out a bloody window if he dared give up the Throne she stole for him. No matter what, Keiff, both sides think they're right and it's too late now. So, what do we do? Do we affirm this usurper's claim? Or do we help the Queen get her birthright back?"

"It is not a simple thing I can answer."

"Nobody can - yet I am expected to," you huffed. "They won't back down... We all know they won't - neither side will consent. So, no matter what I do, who I choose, I'll be on the frontlines with Balerion. They'll expect us to commit some incredible yet treacherous acts, like The Conqueror fucking burning Harrenhal. No matter what we choose, this war isn't gonna end, will it?"

Celia just sighed as Maester Foral was quiet, then he, too, sighed deeply. He spoke softly, "In truth? I always worried this would happen. There's nothing wrong with a woman heir, I never understood the fuss. Yet this country is so - so - so...?"

"Traditional?" Celia guessed. "Stubborn?"

"Closed minded," Keiff found the words, you nodding along. "They think because we started with a King, we should end with a King, and nowhere between should there be a ruling Queen. I don't know if Rhaenyra stands a chance winning..."

"What do you mean?" Celia asked stiffly.

"Even if she defeats the Greens, takes back her Throne, she'll still have to face the entire Realm - who whisper about her predicted downfall. A Queen will never rule," he frowned, "and the people would become restless and unhappy, betrayal would always brew - someone would always plot against her. She wouldn't be winning the war - but affirming it."

You frowned, "Who would think they have better claim than Rhaenyra?"

"Aegon - "

"Besides him," you chuckled.

"Prince Aemond, probably. And by the same right, Prince Daeron would have a claim - being Viserys' seed," Celia considered. "Could even be a bastard or two lingering in the shadows. Consider if Baelon had bastards, huh?"

"Prince Baelon? Bastards?" You laughed. "The man was devoted to his wife!"

"Devoted men can still fuck around! A cunt is still a cunt!"

"Oh, Grandmother, don't say that - I don't think you're allowed to say that and I certainly don't wish to hear it!"

Keiff spoke over you both, "There could be any number of bastards - from any number of royals. But there's no real proof of lineage, less the sire steps forward, and in this case, all sires are dead. So, I wouldn't worry about any bastards trying to raise and lay claim."

The night was still young and the questions only just starting.

ONE WEEK LATER

Dawn would peak in less than an hour, and yet, instead of being safe and warm in bed, you were slipping in dew-dotted grass while carting a wagon full of sickly lambs. In a tremendously unladylike fashion, you cursed like a sailor, annoyed with nature; pacing further from the border of the Highgarden Keep.

After clearing the dewy hill, you descended into the valley Balerion had curled up in. His head lifted as you approached, his grumble causing the earth to quake and send birds squawking into the skies. "Yeah," you panted, "I'm hungry, too, love, just gimme a second. Good lad."

For the past nine weeks you've had your dragon, you had fallen into routine of bringing him little treats. Cattle, goats, chickens, sometimes dogs or horses; and today, after an entire litter fell fatally ill, lambs. Vhagar and Vermax were in the sky above the Keep.

"All right, love," you sighed, approaching your beastie. With a tentative tongue, you tried the commands in High Valyrian both Princes had taught you that past week, "Serve, Balerion."

No story could do this beast justice. He was magnificent, but also absolutely terrifying - horrifying - devastating to gaze at. It's said “his wingspan was so large that his shadow could engulf entire towns when he passed overhead. His teeth were as long as swords, and his jaws were large enough to swallow an aurochs whole, or even one of the hairy mammoths that are said to roam the cold wastes beyond the Port of Ibben.”

In person, he was the living embodiment of Death.

You repeated yourself, listening to your dragon huff before lowering his head. "Be calm, Balerion," you commanded with a stern voice, smirking when he grumbled, "be calm. Easy... Easy," you chanted, extending your hand. His lip twitched as his snout extended, allowing you to lay a gentle touch to his cracked ebony scales. "Good," you praised, "good, be calm."

He breathed deeply, eyes bright and blazing a menacing flame red. You were lost in thought as you stroked his face, mind whirling with all that happened the past week; mind nagging about the stark differences in Dragon Princes. Balerion did not find his feet, there was no need; lifting his head only slightly when you pulled away to overturn the wagon before him. At your feet, the lambs were too sick to run away, bleating helplessly; the great large beast locking eyes with you and waiting for permission.

After several steps back, you smirked and called, "Eat, Balerion."

Behind you, a voice called your name. Balerion didn't care, indulging in his breakfast treat, allowing you to peak back and locate your best mate, Alora Flowers, waving you down. "C'mon, love," she called.

"You! C'mere," you told her, lugging the now empty wagon behind you.

"Gods, no!" She squeaked. "You get up here! I'm not going around that beast, you know this!"

"Coward!"

"Absolutely! Proudly!"

You laughed, lugging the wagon to a certain height and then leaving it to meet Alora on the hill incline. "Still scared of him?" You teased.

"Of the big arse dragon?" She laughed, "Yeah! I'm still scared! Even at this distance, he could reach out and snack on us."

"Good thing he won't," you assured, nudging her to sit down. "What're you doin' out here? It's early."

"You were not in your chambers," she noted, "and today's the day you announce to the Princes... I wanted to check on you, see how you're feeling about everything."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as she revealed the miniature picnic basket she brought. As Alora unpacked an array of fruits, some cheeses and breads with jams, honey, and dried meats, you admitted, "I've no bloody idea what to think anymore."

"Oh, that's not good."

You hummed, biting into an apple as Balerion crunched three lambs between his jaws at once. "It's been a touch overwhelming," you muse. "But either Prince has made an impression, I am now tasked with choosing a side in this Godsforsaken war."

"You could truly turn the tide in it," Alora nodded, biting into a plum. "Take the Realm in a direction it's never been before... Or support it going in the same direction it's always gone. Which, you know, lead us here anyways."

Your eyes rolled, "Well, when you phrase it like that..."

"C'mon," she nudged your shoulder. "They're both very handsome, but for different reasons."

"Hmm?"

"Prince Jacaerys is handsome in a stereotypical way. You know, cut jawline, chiseled cheekbones, luscious curly hair. He's young, but in a charming way - seems green to the ways of the world. He'd be a match to learn with you," she chuckled, sighing to herself.

"You seem enraptured - surely, you'd hate me for choosing Prince Jacaerys since you sound so taken by him."

"Unless the Prince's penis suddenly reverts within his body, I don't envision myself with him," Alora teased, making you both laugh loudly. She flinched a little when Balerion grumbled and lifted his head to seemingly glare at the pair of you for interrupting him. After clearing her throat, she continued, "On the other hand, Prince Aemond's handsome in a rugged way. He's entirely chiseled, mysterious and confident. His entire presence drawls you in."

"All seems so simple when comparing men on parchment," you frowned, leaning back onto your elbow as the sun began its ascent above the horizon.

"Well, let's break it down."

"How?"

"If you aline with the Greens, what would that look like?"

You paused to consider her question, answering, "Chaotic."

"Think deeper."

Chewing a piece of bread with cheese, you considered, "Probably a logical choice, since the Realm has only ever known men to sit the Iron Throne. It wouldn't challenge norms, would relatively keep the peace since there's plenty to be expected when a man rules. Balerion would be put to use; that, I can all but guarantee. Things would... Become predictable, but perhaps that's preferred. After decades of peace, perhaps it's best to not change the status quo."

Alora nodded, "Alining with the Greens would keep Aegon on the Throne."

"Use Balerion would neutralize Rhaenyra, though?"

"Probably. And anyone who offers Aegon insult."

"And if I aline with the Blacks, then I would dethrone a usurper..."

"What an adventure that sounds like," she chuckled, you agreeing. "Keep going, we could expect what outta you alining with the Blacks?"

You huffed, "Chaos."

"Bitch."

Laughter felt a little misplaced, but still, you shared in the exchange of amusement. "Rhaenyra's the emotional choice - where it almost doesn't matter her qualifications because the Realm swore to her; she was declared and her claim upheld by her father, the King. We would be putting a Queen on her Throne, as intended. The Greens would be extinguished... We'd be heralding in a new age. Her son would sit the Throne after her..."

Alora blinked, "Am I just realizing that now?"

"What?"

"If you marry Aemond, you'll be the King's sister-by-law. If you marry Jace, you'd... You'd be Queen one day."

"What a fate after all I've been denied," you scoffed bitterly, "all my mother and aunt were denied."

"The Vanished Princess and the Queen Who Never Was. Quite a pair."

"I hear, in their youth, they were," you frowned with a sigh. "We'll never see their likes again."

"No... But perhaps, we'll see something new in you. Answer me this, who did you think was nice?"

"Oh, fuck off - nobody cares for that - "

"I do," she snapped. "Now, answer me. Who do you think is nice? Which Prince? Either? Neither? Both?"

You hummed in consideration, answering nervously, "Jace was nice - is. Is nice, Jace is nice."

"Who do you think you have more in common with?"

"Maybe Aemond."

"Are either of them funny?"

"Jace has a sense of humor, Aemond is so very... Rigid and stoic."

"I imagine it takes longer than a week to truly know someone, perhaps he is anxious?"

"Or perhaps he is simply doing his duty," you scoffed gently. "At the very least, Jace seems... Somewhat..." You shrugged, "Excited to be here, maybe even intrigued."

She nodded. "So, no matter who you choose, we're looking at war - but the end of the war, so... Where do you wish to stand? Since it's inevitable, I think this comes down to what kind of chaos you want to see - a chaos we've endured or one we've never seen before? I mean, never before has a woman come so close to the Throne..."

There was a long silence. Like, several minutes long. After deep-enough contemplation, you whispered, "If this past week if any indication..." You trailed off, sighing deeply for the hundredth time; staring at Balerion. "I think I know what I should do."

"Oh?"

"Talking it out helps."

"Then talk," she leaned back in the grass. "Tell me about this past week - tell me about the Princes."

And where to start?

< < < previous part, part one: read here

> > > next part, part three: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread series masterlist

[gingerjolover]

Sleep it off - Julien Baker x Reader

Sypnosis: Julien has had a rough few weeks, resulting in some conflict with her soft!gf :(

G's notes: I am so sorry I am flaky, I hope this long one makes up for it :') Also I'm sure Julien is a great partner, this is in no way meant to be taken as the truth

WC: somewhere around 5.7 k (i'm not sorry)

Warnings: RPF, angst, fluff, some anti-cig comments, smoking, mental health struggles, light arguing, mean/stressed!julien, light touching, kissing, no fundamental physical descriptors besides hair that can be pushed away from your face?

Julien sits outside; the darkening sky and pre-spring chill surround her. The porch stairs are cold under her jeans, goosebumps on her arms as she strums absent-mindedly; her ¾ sleeve shirt provides little comfort from the breeze.

She’s been in better moods before, that’s for sure.

The impending album release and subsequent press tour put pressure on every bone in her body, her chest tight. She’s stoked, obviously, to be able to release another project with her best friends in the world. The project that gave her a voice ignited her will to live, pushing her further out of her comfort zone and simultaneously pulling her into a warm embrace. 

Even in her gratefulness, she’s annoyed. The lack of sleep, an upcoming busy schedule, and the numerous cigarette butts on the ground contribute to her sour mood. She’s happy, happier than she’s ever been. To finally be home, her dogs padding across the floor, and her beautiful partner cooking dinner in the kitchen should be reasons enough to forgo the attitude, but it rises quickly and sticks to her bones like the chill. 

“Babe?” 

Julien can hear you call from somewhere in the house. The front door is wide open, and the mesh of the porch door allows the breeze to filter in and cool down the warming house. Julien can hear the dog's nails tapping against the wood floor. 

She turns her head in your direction, fingers still moving on the guitar. “I’m outside,” she calls, humming a melody. 

“Jules?” you call again, obviously not hearing your girlfriend’s response the first time. 

A loud sigh escapes Julien's mouth before she can stop it, rolling her eyes at the second inquiry of her location. Her hands pause on the guitar, grumbling as she holds it in one hand by the neck and stands up, leaning against the column on the porch, making no effort to go inside. “Yeah, baby, I’m out here,” she responds, her tone dripping in annoyance. 

“Oh, there you are!” you say brightly, trying to ignore your girlfriend’s obvious irritation.

She’s been snappy since she got home a day and a half ago, the stress building up in her body, crawling out like a monster; her first instinct recently is to direct her frustration at the closest uninvolved party. 

Your hair was messy, eyes sleepy, and cheeks flushed, causing Julien to relax her face, a crooked smile appearing softly. She feels at peace staring at you. Her obvious agitations calm momentarily, her guitar heavy in her hand. “What did you need, baby?” she asks softly, the guilt of her previous irritation already creeping in. 

“Pasta or rice with dinner?” you ask, standing in the doorway, the porch too cold even for your fuzzy sock-clad feet. 

“Pasta… I’m in the mood for pasta, babe…thank you,” she says gratefully. Leaning against the porch’s railing, her eyes look up and down your bare legs, the oversized boygenius crewneck falling mid-thigh. Julien is thanking the universe for the misprints of the crewneck, your lack of pants leaving little to her imagination, cheeks heating up staring at you. 

“Okay,” you respond softly, leaning out of the porch door, puckering your lips towards Julien. 

She chuckles lightly, stepping towards you, one hand on your cheek and leaving a sweet kiss on your lips. She presses a few more pecks before pulling away, eyes closed. 

“Hey baby…”

“Hi?” you whisper back, watching Julien’s eyes flutter. She stares into your eyes lovingly. “You’re so cute,” Julien murmurs, her hand running down your leg, caressing your knee softly before kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“I love you… you know that, right?” Julien asks her tone almost a little pleading.

Your eyes soften, seeing the conflict in her face. “I know…I love you too…” you whisper back, kissing her nose. 

“Can we just…lay down? You, me, the dogs… just cuddle in bed, watch shitty tv or read or… whatever. I just…need some grounding,” she asks, practically a plea to rekindle some normalcy. 

“You okay?” you ask, rubbing the lines between her brows, her face in a slight frown. “Dinner first, then I’m all yours, deal?” you suggest, keeping the tone light. 

“Deal! Now let’s go inside; I’m freezing my ass off out here,” she says dramatically, opening the porch door wider. 

“I told you to put on a hoodie!” 

“I don’t need a hoodie, I have your body to keep me warm… my lil space heater,” she teases, pinching your ass as she pushes you inside and shuts the front door. 

"Babe, can I ask you something?" She asks, her voice becoming a little more serious.

“Yeah?” you call from the kitchen, stirring dinner in a Dutch oven.

"You know how you always feel better at home... do you ever think we make each other too comfortable? Like, you know, we get into a relationship slump almost when we're at home together because we feel comfortable enough to be ourselves... does that make any sense?" she pauses, stepping away from the door and making her way into the kitchen, leaning against the wall as she stares at you. She was still nervous about the answer she would receive, but she figured it was at least worth starting a conversation about.

“Hmmm, I mean… maybe? But you’re touring most of the year anyway, so I guess… I don’t know, I kind of relish when we get comfortable… because I know it’s not forever, and I try to enjoy it when I can,” you say softly, the direction of this conversation slightly worrying. 

"You're happy, though? I make you happy?" she asks, a hopeful look in her eyes, the answer being the most important thing in her mind. It was almost an anxiety-inducing question for her, as if she needed you to tell her without a shred of doubt. She needed to be satisfied with where the relationship was, needed to know that you were actually happy and in such a good place mentally and emotionally. It was the most important thing to Julien.

“I— yeah… I’m happy, I’m— I’m really happy…” you say, turning around. “Are you— not happy?” you ask nervously, fearing Julien's bad mood indicates something deeper.

Julien quickly shakes her head, "God no, I'm incredibly happy, babe. I just want to make sure you're happy too..." she quickly closes the space between you two, holding your hips. Julien plants a sweet, quick kiss on each of your cheeks, her hand moving to rest on your head as she speaks.  "You're my girl, I love you so much..."

You nod, smiling nervously as you relish the normal affection from Julien, having missed it the last 36 hours. “I love you too,” you reassure. 

"My baby..." Julien murmurs before she pushes her mouth against yours. She wraps around your torso, pressing her body flush with yours, lips connecting and tongues meeting. Julien felt her hands wander as she continued the kiss, running her left hand under your crewneck and back. It was a passionate kiss of desire and love; she wanted so desperately for you to feel how much she loved you. 

“Hmph,” you pull away, breathing heavily; there’s a stale cigarette taste as you pull away. “How many cigarettes did you smoke out there?” you murmur teasingly.

Julien broke the kiss to answer your question, looking you straight in the eyes as she did. She was caught. Of course, Julien would never admit to it, but she couldn't hide it from you. You are the one person on the planet who could read her like a book, and Julien felt no shame. "Five... not even kidding."

“Babe!” you exclaim softly, typically finding it hot that Julien smokes, but combined with her exhaustion and bad attitude, it's worrying. Julien playfully sticks her tongue, mistaking your worry for banter. "Babe, you try being outside in practically a t-shirt and jeans in 30-degree weather for more than five minutes with the wind whipping around you and tell me you wouldn't have wanted to hit a cigarette to calm your damn nerves!"

“You could’ve come back in!” You sigh, chuckling at her excuse, ignoring that Julien said, ‘Hit a cigarette,’ alluding to just one. 

“Babe, I— never mind,” you say softly, rubbing your temples, pulling away from Julien, and starting to stir the pot on the stove again.

Julien rolled her eyes, "No, no, you can't pull the 'never mind' thing on me; I know you, I know what you're about to say, so please, give it to me straight... I've been smoking too much lately, haven't I?"

“Among other things,” you mumble under your breath. “You’re supposed to tour in just a few months. You’re about to go on a press tour and do all these acoustic sets, and I’m worried about you and your voice,” you say, her voice firm and worried.

Julien quickly interjected, the frustration seeping into her tone. "What other things? What the hell is going on, babe? I feel like I'm missing something, so please just be blunt. I want to work on these things, but I can't if I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Please tell me." Julien knew what was wrong, but she didn’t like being called out on it. She subconsciously ignored that her agitation was why you’re off in the first place.

“You’re just snappy, Jules, like you get so annoyed with me so quick, and I’m not even doing anything,” you breathe out, unsure how your worried comment pushed her so far so quickly.

Julien laughs, exasperated at your comment, placing her hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. "Babe, you can't be serious... I have been working my ass off on my album; I'm stressed, I haven't seen you in weeks, and I am quite literally physically exhausted. I'm sorry that my attitude has been shitty, but let's take a second to think about where it's coming from, okay?"

“I’m not attacking you, Julien, you asked what was wrong, and I told you. I know you’re stressed. I never said that you weren’t, but it’s not fair to me,” you say quietly, surprised by her outburst.

"It's not fair to you? You haven't seen my ass in weeks, and I come home stressed and worried about my career and how I will be able to juggle this new album with a tour, and suddenly I'm the bad guy for being snappy? That sounds like an issue with you, not me! If you know I'm stressed and you know why, then you should understand that this is a part of my career, babe. It's just the way it is." Julien says, her voice harsh and defensive. 

“Okay, I—“ You say, taking a shuddering breath, holding your head in your hands, breathing for a moment while trying to formulate your thoughts and figure out how this went so south so fast. 

"No!" Julien snaps, interjecting before you can even start to respond, your shuddering breath setting her off. "Don't try to do that thing where you turn it all on me and make me the bad guy because you start crying because you don’t like what I said. I love you, I love you so goddamn much, but…”

“I didn’t even say anything!” You interrupt, exasperated. “I was literally thinking, I don’t know where all this anger came from; I’m not trying to fight with you,” your voice thick with emotion, not understanding why Julien is acting like this because it’s not her normal behavior.

Julien sighs heavily. Suddenly, she knew her anger was irrational, and she felt terrible letting it get this far in the first place. She could only blame her worries and stress for how she behaved. She wanted to push every ounce of it onto you because you were an easy target at the moment. The only issue was that you did not deserve to be treated that way, and she needed to apologize.

"Baby, I... I..." A pause filled the room for a second before she spoke. "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

“Just— go cool off, Jay,” you say, wiping your tears and turning to the stove. 

"Babe, you know I can't just leave mid-fight, not when I'm in the wrong. Yes, I was being an ass; I have been an ass for a couple of weeks now, and I'm realizing that now. So please, just let me apologize properly, okay?" Julien asked, now standing behind you, feeling very guilty about her words and tone.

“Julien, I love you, but I really don’t want to talk to you right now…” you say, voice shaky.

"I understand that, babe, but I need to talk to you. I'm struggling, okay? Not just with my work, but I know I'm pushing you away, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of it, and I just want everything back on track because I've felt like I've been out of control lately, and I feel like I've lost sight of what's really important, and that's you, baby, you're what's important." Julien murmurs, speaking from her heart. She doesn’t know where her harsh words came from; watching your face fall and seeing you turn around breaks her heart.

“Just go,” you dismiss her harshly. 

Julien was quiet for a few seconds, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. The silence that filled the kitchen was deafening as Julien felt like part of her heart had just been crushed. She didn't want to leave like this. She needed to make this right.

"Honey... please..." Julien pleads.

“I just need a minute to myself, okay?”

Julien sighs heavily and takes a step back. She knew she had to respect your wishes in this moment, as much as she desperately needed to be close to you. "Okay. I'm going to go for a walk, okay? Please... I don’t want to go to bed like this," she whispers, her eyes filling with tears as she realizes at that moment what a toll all of her behavior and stress had taken on your relationship. She hated it.

“Take the dogs,” you whisper. 

"Okay..." she responds softly, opening the door quietly and leashing the two dogs out before looking at you briefly. She didn't need a verbal response to know you were mad. She would make this right, but not now, not when you needed space. She had finally noticed her wrongs and would do anything it took to make things right. "See you soon..." she whispers before closing the door behind her in defeat.

When Julien leaves, the dam breaks and your sobs are loud; unsure how everything escalated so fast.

. 

As soon as she was outside, Julien let out the breath she had been holding in, her whole body trembling with emotion. She knew she had pushed a lot and never wanted to get to that point with you. After one or two more deep breaths, Julien began to walk down the road, the cold air hitting her almost immediately. Her mind was reeling from the entire conversation; the conversation that should have been a playful banter just turned harsh before she realized it. 

Julien facetimes Phoebe and Lucy, the dogs tugging at their leashes, expecting Julien to speed up walking through the small suburban neighborhood. She explains the fight, both of them siding with you, not so much about the cigarettes but about how Julien has been quick to anger recently. 

Julien's voice was shaky with emotion as she spoke with her friends. The cold night air was not helping as she sucked in deep breaths between sentences, trying to level her breathing. Both of them ask the same thing. "Have you told her you're sorry?” and “What were you thinking?!” 

“You act like an ass post travel babe,” Lucy says, without remorse. “Have you been sleeping?” 

"Look guys, I— it's just... I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on her, which is totally not okay, and she's in her right to be mad at me; she's been putting up with my bullshit for God knows how long, and I'm just..." Julien trails off. “Sleep has not been coming easy…” she sighs. 

“Look, she loves you so much… we know she’ll forgive you, but maybe hear her out, don’t get angry… you’re usually so well-spoken and eloquent,” Lucy says on the tiny screen, only visible from her nose and above. 

"I— I know I'm just-- I'm a massive fucking idiot. I don't understand why she puts up with me sometimes. I can only imagine what she's thinking about me right now. I need to fix this; I just... I hope she forgives me. She deserves better, so much better, man." Julien's voice wavered with emotion.

“She doesn’t put up with you, JB. You’re in a relationship, and she’s like…so down to have a conversation, and I’m sure it can’t be easy for her to see you struggle, and she probably empathizes– you just got all on her ass about it,” Phoebe says, her tone soft but firm. 

"I know... I know this... you guys are right. I'll go back there and talk to her, apologize, grovel, and do whatever it takes to make this right. She loves me. I know that. I know, and I love her even more, and I've been taking that for granted, so I just— I need to make this right, even if it means I have to kiss her ass for the rest of my life, yeah?” She says, breathing heavily, feeling slightly less terrible at this time.

“Let us know how it goes. Or if you need anything?” Lucy says softly, Phoebe agreeing.

"I will, yeah... I love you guys; thank you so much. I feel a little better. Can you just tell me that I really am a dipshit right now?" she asks, laughing.

“You’re a fucking idiot, JB,” Lucy laughs loudly. “But we love you!” Phoebe concurs. 

“Go get your girl!” Phoebe says. “And kiss her for me,” Lucy teases.

"Oh my God, Luce, shut your filthy mouth… and I will," Julien teases back in response. The laugh that escaped her lips was relieving.

Julien says goodbye to the band and starts the walk home. Wiping the dogs' paws before taking off their leashes, she lets them into the house, following them into the kitchen where you are cleaning the kitchen, seemingly finished cooking dinner.

Julien pads into the kitchen, still feeling very emotional. Your demeanor tells her what she needs to know. You’re definitely upset, maybe angry. She would just have to continue working on things and hope for the best. She wasn't going to push it tonight. "Hey..." she says meekly. 

“Hi,” your voice is as meek and quiet as Julien’s, avoiding eye contact as you praise the dogs, giving them treats. 

"Listen, I'm sorry, I know I was an absolute jackass today. You didn't deserve any of that... None of that was aimed towards you. Everything built up and poured out of me, and it was just a shitty day." she pauses, moving closer to you. You can feel her staring at you with glassy eyes. "Can you please look at me?"

Looking at Julien post-sobbing proves to be more challenging than the fight itself; showing her how badly her words affected you almost brings…shame? And for what you’re not sure. Your nose is wet and your eyes puffy as you have a hard time looking at the love of your life, usually so gentle and articulate. 

Julien feels even more guilt-ridden at seeing you upset. She hadn't seen you this upset in such a long time, your relationship so well-rounded, and your communication skills top-tier regardless of conflict. Julien immediately goes to you, pushing your hair away from your face. Julien pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek softly over and over. 

"I am so, so sorry... For everything, I love you, you know that?"

“Mhm,” you nod, only half leaning into Julien. 

"Do you love me?" she asks, her voice quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was push you further away, but she needed to hear the words out loud. She now needed reassurance, although she knew she didn't deserve it.

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

"Do you love me enough to forgive me for being a jackass?" she asks, tears sliding down her cheeks as she looks at you. Julien did not want to sleep anywhere but in your arms tonight, her skin prickling at the thought this fight to cruise you both into uncharted territory.

“Mhm,” you barely nod, sniffling and looking at the floor. 

"Honey..." Julien's voice was a plea; she genuinely felt like a terrible girlfriend, and the one thing she needed right now was to make you feel better; forgiveness and reassurance would come at some point. She needed to know that you still loved her, even if you were mad. "Please... talk to me, baby, we can make this right if you let me fix it. Please say something."

“I don’t like that you blamed me for being upset that you’ve been snapping at me… that hurt my feelings,” you sniffle. “I don’t like this new thing where you take stuff out on me. I— I don’t deserve that. I know the last few weeks have been hard since we were apart, but you’re not the only one struggling when you’re away, Jay,” she sniffles again. “I wasn’t attacking you, I didn’t want to fight, I did what you asked me to, I told you what I was feeling, and you threw it back at me and said ‘it’s part of the job’ and that’s not fair, and frankly that’s bullshit because we’ve never had this issue in the years we’ve been together,” you say firmly, faux confidence seeping your tone as you lay everything out before your partner. 

"Wow... I feel like an absolute ass hearing you say it like that... I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me today... I'm so used to you giving me some playful smart-ass remark, and I know you're worried, but for some reason, it just ticked me off. I couldn’t stop from getting so angry… and I’m not blaming you right now. This isn’t an excuse; I just– I don’t know– regardless of what happened, you didn’t deserve me snapping at you," she grimaces, looking at you now with a sad and conflicted look in her eyes. " I feel terrible about blaming you for your own feelings about my actions. I'm an absolute jerk. I was stressed and took it out on you, which was incredibly unfair and unnecessary. I need to learn to cope with this better. You deserve a partner who does not let themselves take out stress and anger on you, and I've been letting myself do that with my bad moods." she places her hand on your cheek, now leaning your foreheads together. "I am so sorry… you know this isn’t me, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t wrong."

“I just— I don’t mean to lecture you, but you haven’t toured in over 6 months, and the number of cigs can’t be good for your voice, and I know you smoke a lot when you’re stressed, but it hurts that you don’t even talk to me about it you just immediately turn to cigarettes and then you get mad that I’m not aware of how you’re doing or what you’re going through,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

"I know... God, this sounds terrible when you put it like that. I have not been myself at all, baby. I've been lashing out for no reason, blaming you for things out of your control... I've been so selfish and shitty, and you do not deserve it, and I am so sorry." she continues, looking at her love with a look full of longing and regret. 

“I just need some space, I think,” you conclude sadly, a little unsure. 

Julien looks at you and nods. It was hard for her not just to scoop you up and run away with you, but she would give you the space you needed. She loves you too much to risk pushing you too far and was already walking on thin ice. 

"I love you, okay? If you need me, I'll be in my studio, and you can come get me anytime you're ready." she kisses you on the forehead affectionately. 

“Here,” you say, pushing the tray on the counter towards Julien, her dinner, some Advil, her favorite drink, and her meds on the tray. You were hoping to leave it on the counter for when she got home, but her returning sooner messed up your plans. 

Julien notices now the kitchen is clean, the dinner put away beside her plate. 

"Wait, is this for me?" Julien asks, a sad smile on her lips. The gesture's thoughtfulness was sweet, but it was apparent she had hurt you tonight and didn't deserve such love right now. “Did you eat?” 

“Yeah, it’s for you…I had a few bites, but I’m not hungry,” you breathe out. (Don't be skipping meals, babes x)

“I’m gonna go shower… can the dogs stay with you in your studio until I’m done?” you ask softly, changing the subject. 

"Yeah, yeah... I've got the dogs. Are you going to be in bed soon?" she asks, still wanting nothing more than to have you in bed with her tonight, but she figures it would be better for them if she just slept on the couch. That was the consequence of being a jackass and hurting the most important woman in her life.

“Maybe… just need to shower and stuff,” you say meekly, your usual soft behavior even softer now. 

"Okay babe... please... just come say goodnight to me once you're done..." Julien asks quietly, looking at you with pleading eyes. She wanted nothing more than to hug you and make this right but now wasn’t the time. She had to earn your presence again, and she knew that.

You nod, walking upstairs to their bedroom and jumping in the shower. 

Meanwhile Julien goes to her studio, the dogs lying on the couch in the room. She eats her dinner, picks around it before taking her meds and an Advil, and drinks water to alleviate the deep pain in her chest. 

After about an hour, you pad downstairs to Julien’s studio, her dinner and meds long gone. When you knock softly, Julien is watching a video and working on a song. “Am I interrupting?” your voice whispered, still respecting the studio's rules, in case Julien was working.

Julien pauses the video and turns around in her chair, looking at you with tired eyes. "No... No, not at all. I'd actually really appreciate the company right now, babe…”

“I just wanted to say goodnight… and grab Winnie,” you say meekly, still needing some space, leaving Blue, your bigger dog, with Julien. 

Julien felt a little sad, but she knew that was just one of the consequences of her actions tonight. She nodded and looked at you with hope in her eyes, wishing you would come closer. But she knew she was asking for too much right now. She stays in her chair and lets a small smile form. “Okay... goodnight, babe. I love you,” she whispers, feeling defeated.

“Love you,” you whisper, grabbing a sleeping Winnie, your smaller runt of a dog, and head back to your room. 

Julien listens to you climb the stairs and close the door. A silence she wasn't used to settled in the room. She hated fighting with you, and she hated herself for having no self-control tonight. She would have to give you room to breathe, the two of you never navigating conflict like this.

Blue looks up at Julien, tilting his head as if he could sense that his moms were fighting. 

Julien takes a deep breath and lifts Blue into her arms. The dog's comfort was something she desperately needed right now, even though he was too big to be cuddled like this. She felt her emotions rising as warm tears fell down her cheeks.

Blue happily nuzzles into Julien, licking the tears off her cheeks, wiggling a little, not fitting in Julien’s lap or her chair. 

Julien let out a little laugh as her legs and the edge of her desk were assaulted by Blue's wagging nub of a tail. She hugs him closer to her body and lets out a few more tears. This day was a mess; she just wanted to curl up in bed with you and forget everything. But that was off the table for the night, at least. She sighed and closed her eyes as Blue did his best to comfort her.

A few hours pass, and Julien eventually takes Blue outside, watching him go to the bathroom. The cold hair helps ground her momentarily before they both climb back up the stairs. 

Walking through the kitchen and towards the office, she sees you standing with your hand up near the door as if you were going to knock. She freezes up, not expecting to see you for the rest of the night. She smiles softly, your messy hair and sleepy eyes drooping. “Hi, sweet girl,” she says quietly. Blue runs up to your legs, headbutting you gently. 

“Hi,” you gulp. “I can’t sleep, can you… can you come to bed,” you ask anxiously.

Julien feels her heart swell as you ask her to come to bed. She nods, biting her lower lip in relief. She was so afraid that you were going to reject her now. She takes a step forward, closing the space between you both. "Are you sure, babe?" she asks, her voice soft and nervous like yours.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay… I’ll be fine,” you say sheepishly. 

Julien can’t believe you would say that. Of course, she wants to go to bed with you. "No... I want to... I want to go to bed with you more than anything. I just... I'm worried that I'll hurt you tonight. I'm worried I will lay there and overthink all the shitty things I did tonight, and that will somehow make me say something mean to you again... and I don't want that tonight." she replies honestly. She knew you could sense her genuineness, even regarding her insecurities.

“We don’t have to talk tonight… I just, I already sleep so many nights alone, and I just… I want you next to me,” you respond, the distance already hurting, the thought of sleeping in the same house but not next to Julien cracking your heart despite the harshness from earlier lingering like a bad perfume. 

Julien's mouth spreads into a little smile. She was still anxious, given your conversation earlier, but she wanted nothing more than to hold you in her arms. It was all she needed right now. She steps closer now, kissing your lips before responding. "Then let's go to bed."

You nod, whistling for Blue to follow you as you head upstairs, leaving Julien to close up her studio and clean her plate.

Once she enters the dark bedroom, Julien closes the door behind herself and undresses, leaving only her underwear on. Her eyes were focused on your body lying in the bed. She honestly couldn't get over how beautiful you were. Her heart clenches in both love and sorrow all at once. Looking at you overwhelms her, and knowing she made you cry is worse than a punch in the gut.

 "Can I hold you, pretty girl?"

“Mhm,” you hum, turning over, another oversized misprinted boygenius t-shirt riding up your legs, boyshorts hugging your hips. 

Julien moves closer to you, hooking her leg over yours, now lying in an intimate 'C' shape. 

"Did you... did you know that you hum when you're nervous... or when you're happy?" Julien whispers, pulling your body closer as she kisses your clothed shoulder.

“Do I?” 

"Yeah, you do... You did it in the kitchen tonight, which almost broke my heart." Julien whispers. The love she feels for you bubbling up, overwhelming her chest, spilling out of her mouth.

“I didn’t notice that I did that.”

 "You do it when I hold you in your sleep, too. You hum and mumble in your sleep." Julien explains, voice soft. "It used to keep me awake, but now I look forward to it. I just... I love you so much it hurts."

"You smell so good..." she whispers, burying her nose into the back of your neck, relishing in the closeness.

“It’s that new body wash… something with rose or ginger or something,” you try to recall nonchalantly, your skin heating up at her chest flush your back, goosebumps rising on your arms and legs. 

Julien snickers softly. She doesn’t care what the body wash is, she just loves the way you smell. It was intoxicating, filling her with a sense of security and safety at the end of a long day. 

“Whatever it is, it’s amazing,” she says quietly, burying her face back into your neck. You hum again softly, eyes fluttering shut, finally comfortable and warm in bed.

Your little hums continued to play in Julien's mind as she tried to fall asleep herself, her eyes growing heavy as the day's events finally catch up to her. She knows there is work to be done in the name of forgiveness. The impending distance looming over her head, there’s only so much time until she’s traveling again and leaving you behind. But for now, you’re in her arms, and the best she can do in the middle of the night is sleep it off.

[mykoreanlove]

whispers of love

Felix was snuggled in bed with you, hugging you from behind. The smell of his favorite brownies still lingered on him, almost as sweet as his kisses on you. You squirmed in his embrace as his lips tickled the sensitive skin on your neck. “Lixie, stop that”, you laughed warmly. “Hell no”, he retorted and kissed you some more. The sensations were too much to bear, so you wriggled yourself out of his embrace and turned to face him directly.

“Hi”, he said and placed a kiss on the top of your nose. A warmth you had never felt before spread through your whole body. You relaxed, smiled some more and looked at him. This was your first time being with someone who saw all of you and decided to stay. Being with Felix made your heart flutter in the best ways and that was something you were grateful for every single day.

“You look so beautiful right now, baby cakes.” He gazed at you with a mixture of longing and infatuation. Felix grabbed your hand and positioned it to his lips, placing a chest kiss on your knuckles. “There is something I want to say to you, y/n. Actually, I already said it a lot of times, but you were always asleep, so now’s the moment.” He paused for a second, carefully selecting his next words.

“I love you.”

Butterflies were joined by all other animals as well, turning your stomach into a zoo. Your heart raced. Your brain thought a thousand thoughts per second. Your throat was dry.

“Love? You love me?”

Felix chuckled; he had already anticipated that reaction. No matter how much he tried and showed his love for you, you still had trouble accepting it. “Yes, love. I love you.”

“But” your brain instantly presented a myriad of reasons as to why he shouldn’t do that. “But, how? I am just a normal person.”

For a split second you noticed him scrunch his face. He hated it when you talked down on yourself. He hated it when you thought less of yourself because of the dumbest reasons. He hated it when you hated yourself. By now he understood though, that arguing against you was fruitless – this was a journey you had to go on by yourself. Felix chose to stand by your side and hold your hand though.

“Don’t care. I love you.”

“But I’m not in the best shape right now.” He placed another kiss on your knuckles. “I love you.”

“Felix, what do you mean? I am a mess. I have anxiety every other day.” He squeezed your hand. “I still love you.”

You turned on your back and thought about all this while he was still holding your hand. How could he love me when I’m not perfect?

You thought hard, you had to present him with all the facts, so he could make a rational decision. Eagerly, you turned around again.

“Lix, I have health struggles.”

“Don’t care. I love you.”

“But I always assume the worst and get anxious.”

“I love you regardless.”

“But I.. I have debt I need to pay off!”

“Fine by me. I love you.”

Your brain fought hard. Surely, there had to be a reason that would scare him off.

“I got scammed once because I trusted those assholes blindly.”

“I love you.”

“I was bullied when I was younger. I was never a cool kid!”

“I love you.”

“It’s hard for me to control my emotions and I get overwhelmed a lot.”

“Still love you.”

“I got rejected a million of times – I’m really not the one you fall in love with.

Felix took a deep breath, trying to remain calm for the both of you.

“I love you, y/n.”

“But” – he interrupted you this time.

“I love you. You can think of every reason, you could invent any reason – I don’t care. I. LOVE. YOU. All of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. I love you.”

He stopped talking for a second and gave you time to process all of this. The confusion on your face was evident, which irked him but he was sure that someday you’d be able to love yourself like he did.

You took a good look at him – everything he said sounded so sincere. The look on his face was truthful and loving.

“Are you sure?”, you mumbled silently. Felix laughed out happily. “Yes, y/n. I am sure. I love you. I loved you yesterday and I will love you tomorrow. Now turn around and let me cuddle you, so we can fall asleep. Okay?”

Happiness and astonishment were dominant within you right now but you did what he said. You turned around and felt his strong arms around you again, comforting you like they always did. You closed your eyes and took a calming breath, you really needed to sleep. Felix’ lips brushed your ear once more and you fell asleep to him whispering his love for you.