#i should pretend less and live more but the world in my mind is so much easier than the real

[ishouldreallybeelsewhere]

gonna start pretending i’m an assassin returning to the trade thru a dramatic montage of washing away the blood and putting on a suit and gearing up with all that had been hidden but never disposed of, never forgotten every time i have a shower

[arabellasleopardcoat]

To Conquer (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Cursing. Arranged marriage. Periods. Daddy issues. Religious guilt. One death aside from canon ones (Daemon murders a man)

A/N: In which I rewrite the scene of my first encounter with incest in a book. If you get it, you get it.

YOU NEVER dared call Alicent mother out loud. But in your mind, she was.

The woman who had birthed you had passed away the same day you had been born. Out of her womb you had been pulled, alongside your twin. He had not survived the day.

Queen Aemma Arryn was a mere name to you, a woman who existed in paintings and shadows, a ghost that lurked on the Red Keep. Your father never once spoke of her too you, too consumed by guilt and grief. In fact, he did his best to never speak to you at all.

You were an uncomfortable reminder of the crime he had committed. Robbing a woman of life so a man may live. It hadn’t even worked in the end. Your brother had faded from this world, nothing of him remaining.

Against all odds, you had. You had clung to life, the Maesters would later say. Fought tooth and nail to stay in this world. And somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Your father avoided you like the plague, but Alicent, guilty, scared, lonely Alicent, did not. She was all you had.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Despite your dramatic entrance to the world, and your eventful first few months of life, your life had turned out to be quite lackluster. There were no exciting adventures or claiming of dragons, much less a moniker attached to your name like there was to Rhaenyra or Daemon. You wondered why this, out of all things, had to be different.

The robes looked graceful enough on you, you supposed. Your father had called you a true Valyrian beauty, the very image of your mother. You knew it wasn’t true. King Viserys didn’t remember her. How could he, if he had done his best attempts to erase her? He had replaced her at once, and he never once spoke of her again. At least, not with you.

His presence in your life could be defined with one word: Absence. But he had thought it fair to reappear when he needs you to do something for him. The least he could have done would have been asking for your input about the wedding.

If you had been asked, you would have chosen a traditional wedding ceremony, with a Septon and a hand fasting. You would have worn a Targaryen cloak… To be exchanged for another Targaryen cloak. No. Perhaps it had been for the best, not to desecrate such a beautiful ritual with this nonsense.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of not being really married. You didn’t like it. And you liked the man who was waiting for you on the other side of the door much less.

“Are you done, niece?” The knock on the door forced you into action, once again. You reached into the basin, watching the cool water shift under your fingers. There was something about the cold that cleared your head, helped you think. You took a deep breath, and tried to focus.

Alicent had told you that you should obey him in all things. That you had to do your duty, just as she had done hers. But you had seen the fear in her eyes when you were getting ready for the ceremony, and how her hands had grasped at you desperately during the feast. It had taken Ser Otto’s intervention to make her let go of you.

Your bedtime stories had not prepared either of you for this. When you were a young girl, plagued by night terrors, she would sit at the foot of your bed and pretend to read your destiny.

“One day, you will fly to the moon wearing spiderwebs as wings.” She would squint at your hand, making a show of reading the lines there.

“Tell me more!” You would squeal, fears forgotten. Despite not being the motherly type, she would always indulge you. Perhaps, because she saw herself in you. Another little girl, her mother dead, her father defined by his lack of presence.

“It says here…” Alicent would tickle your palm. “That you will grow up into a beautiful, beautiful princess who will marry a handsome lord. He will love you very much.”

Out of all the lies you had been told, it was your favorite. Each night, you would ask to hear it again and again, and think, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be all grown, and the lady of a great castle. My father will love me then.

It had been a consolation you had clung on through all your childhood. You were a princess, worthy of being appreciated by your future husband. He would love you, you knew. You would build something together, something only yours. You would raise your children to be better than you, following Alicent’s example. You would be happy.

You had never realized how much she had clung to that thought too. Her frustrated dreams for herself had been turned into hope for your future. Alicent had spoken them into the night like an enchantment, as if she could bring them to life by repeating the words over and over. So you could have what she hadn’t had. Like all parents wished.

What both of you had imagined wasn't this. You wanted to scream from rage.

“Just a bit more.” You said, your resolve hardening. The faith of the Seven dictated that laying with a relative was a sin, the same for laying with a man who was not your husband. They barely recognized Valyrian wedding ceremonies.

Had you really married him? Your High Valyrian was sloppy. Your mother had not taught you much, and your lessons had often been interrupted because of Aegon. Out of all your siblings, Aemond had been the most proficient one. He had not been present at the ceremony, being judged too young to attend.

It had been your parents, Daemon, Aegon. An intimate ceremony, just as they liked. Could your father betray you so? Give you away as a whore to appease his brother?

You opened the table’s drawers. Daemon’s bathing room was unfamiliar to you, but he must have used something to shave and you would find it. You riffled through various oils and soaps before finding the blade you were seeking.

With your non-dominant hand, you bunched the robes up. Bracing yourself, you used your other hand to slit your upper thigh. At first, you didn’t draw blood, despite feeling the sting of the blade. Your grip was too shaky. But your determination didn’t waver. Your father had asked too much of you already, there was no power in the world that could force you to share your Uncle’s bed.

Your second attempt was much more successful. Despite having tensed the muscles of your thigh anticipating pain, it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Blood rushed out. You grabbed a rag and rubbed it on it. You examined it, coldly. No matter how Valyrian, you bled red, like any Andal.

You schooled yourself into faux embarrassment before you spoke.

“Could you… Husband…. Could you fetch my mother?”

Despite your calculations, you make the mistake regardless. The noun slips from your tongue, unprompted. A slip. The first of many to come. The temperature dropped in the room, Daemon’s anger a near palpable thing.

“Your mother is dead, niece.” He stressed the last word in a way you didn’t like. Despite the door separating the two of you, you could tell his mood had shifted from bad to something much worse. You feared what he might do to you, were you to backtrack in your plan. “Whatever Alicent has been teaching you, you should know you are not hers.”

“Queen Alicent.” You corrected, annoyed. How did he dare criticize the way she had raised you, when there had been literally no one else around up to the task. How did he dare speak down to you, as if you were a simpleton? You fought to keep your tone steady and stomped on the anger bubbling up. “I have… lady troubles.”

“Lady troubles?” Daemon asked, sounding puzzled.

You pondered the merits of skirting around the issue. You weren’t in the mood to enter a euphemism’s discussion, and so, decided to be more graphic.

The bloody rag was held gently between your fingers when you opened the door. No more words were needed. Daemon cursed and went to get your mother.

HE DOESN’T dare ask at first. Daemon understands that women’s bodies work different from his own. He has never bedded one in her moonblood, and doesn’t intend to start with you.

Despite your beauty, Daemon felt oddly disappointed. He had hoped, with you being fully Rhaenyra’s sister and not half, like his younger nephews, that you would be similar to her.

You weren’t. You lacked her fierceness and the respect for your heritage. The only thing Valyrian about you was your looks. You didn’t even have a dragon of your own, and were so damn timid, he might confuse you with a mouse rather than a Princess.

Because of that same reason, he let you be during your moonblood. While Daemon didn’t object to some blood, he doubted you would be the same. Bedding unwilling maidens wasn’t his thing. He preferred his girls willing, be it from the promise of coin or delirious from their own lust.

Somehow, he was getting the feeling you weren’t going to be the second type anytime soon. Every time he attempted to kiss you, you squirmed away, as if he were initiating something sinful and not simply trying to kiss his wife.

“Seven Hells, would it kill you to remain still?” He asked as you nervously avoided his grip on your waist. “I am not trying to initiate anything. I know you are still on your courses. Stand still. I command it.”

“I… I…” You had looked at him, all hesitant eyes. Alicent had done scarcely any things right when raising you, but at least she had instilled you obedience. But blood couldn’t be denied, and every so often your Valyrian nature reared its head. Mostly, playing against Daemon rather than in his favor. Little dragon that you were, you weren’t keen on following orders.

Ah, but bring you a Septa. Then you were jumping out of your seat to offer the damn woman your chair and observing her earnestly for non-verbal cues, tending to her every need like a commoner. Ridiculous.

“The Mother obeys the Father, from what I understand.” Daemon kept his tone matter of fact. He wasn’t certain that the Seven Pointed Star said that, but it sounded right, and it suited him, so he spoke the words with as much conviction as he could muster. In truth, Daemon had never opened the damn book in his life. A waste of time. The Septons he knew were a bunch of cunts and their followers weren’t any better.

“Maidens are supposed to be demure.” You protested. “Not indulge on indecent displays.”

“You are not meant to be a maiden any longer.” He grabbed you by the waist regardless, coaxing you to stroll next to him. “And wives obey their husbands.”

While you remained unconvinced, you allowed him to lead you around the Red Keep’s gardens. He kept a constant stream of chatter, using all his best lines, but you answered in monosyllables. Not only did Daemon wish to cultivate a better relationship with you, but he also wanted to flaunt his new bride. It was only fair that the other cunts here got a look at Targaryen superiority. Kept them from being too uppity.

Like everything else in this marriage, though, that too proved elusive. Soon, whispers began to circulate about his virility. One of your maids had a loose tongue, it seemed. The whole castle was snickering about it not even a week later. You, like usual, were oblivious.

In a fit of anger Daemon would later not be proud of, he got all the little chits whipped. But their attitudes about your moonblood made him begin to suspect something was amiss. A fortnight of bleeding seemed… Strange. While he was never particularly interested in women’s bodies beyond fucking them, something had to be wrong. An inquiry with the Maester proved him right. Apparently, over a week was unusual, a fortnight near impossible.

That night, he sat on the foot of your shared bed, watching you fret around the room. Daemon had asked for shared chambers, thinking it would bring the two of you closer. With his constant exiles and marriages, and the fact that Alicent had coddled you during your whole existence, you were a stranger with a familiar face. He had hoped to entice you by appealing to your curiosity about marital duties. Safe to say, it didn’t work.

You had put up barriers. Both metaphorical and physical ones. Right now, you were at it again. Laying down a towel on your side of the bed and a pillow in the middle of it. As he watched you, he found himself struck by the beauty of your hands. They were firm and precise in their movements, fixing down the towel and then neatly delimiting your side of the bed with the pillow.

You were wearing the most hideous nightshirt know to man, more adequate for a Septa than a newlywed. Slightly bent over, fluffing up your pillows, Daemon noticed that it was as white as fresh snow. Now that he thought of it, all your shifts were. And yet, none of them had ever been stained. Nor had the towel you placed on the bed and loudly proclaimed it was to avoid leakages. An effort to make yourself more unappealing, perhaps?

Somehow, the realization didn’t anger him. Instead, it made him more curious. Was this your way of rebelling? Were you scared? What went on behind your eyes, inside that skull of yours?

“Wife.” Daemon finally spoke, when you were starting to kneel for your nightly prayers. You paused, kneeling gracefully. You looked up at him, all curious eyes and nervous smile. “Have your courses always been this long?”

This time, he watches your reaction closely. During these past days, Daemon has not pressured you about it. But now, he waits on bated breath.

Your eyes widen. The hands you have clasped in prayer get even tighter pressed together.

“Oh, you shouldn’t… These are womanly concerns.” You are a terrible liar. He would laugh, were it not such a cruel thing to do when in the face of a little fool.

“I insist.” Daemon arches an eyebrow at you. You squirm on your knees like there are ants on your shift. You are visibly distraught. Does it pain you, pious girl that you are, to be committing a sin?

“Yes, they are.”

Another lie. He had asked some of the fools in Viserys’ employment. Yours didn’t last more than a week. But Daemon finds all the twitching you are doing entertaining, and so, decides to give you more rope to hang yourself.

“And yet, your father promised that you were fertile.” He drawls, cruel amusement almost leaking into his tone. He can’t help the way his lips twitch. This is too entertaining. It’s like toying with a mouse before eating it.

“I… I am.” You weakly defend yourself. Your face is looking more distressed by the second. And is that..? Oh, wonderful, you are starting to sweat a little.

“No, you are not. You are either lying about that, or about your moonblood.”

“I am not!” You protest, finally getting up from your kneeling position. A shame. You looked positively delicious in your predicament.

“Yes, you are! But I am giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Which one are you lying about?”

“I am not.” You look about to flee the room, so Daemon gets up and places himself on your path. You flinch a bit, but stubbornly refuse to admit the truth. His amusement at your attitude is starting to turn sour. Not only it is unflattering that you are making up excuses to avoid bedding him, but they are so stupid half the court is laughing at him behind his back about it. And you, absolute fool, can’t admit it.

“Wrong answer, niece.” He steps closer, trying to intimidate you. “I know the truth.”

“You do?” You startle. You take a step back, nearly tripping on the hem of that ugly nightgown. Daemon reaches to steady you, his grip on your arms punishingly. You twitch, as if sensing that you are caught in the maws of a hungry beast that could pounce at any moment.

“You are not on your moonblood. You can't be every single day of the moon!” He shakes you a little, making you yelp. But then, the most astounding thing happens. Because instead of going very still, as the frightened bird that you are, you shove him hard.

“What would you know!” You scream at him, pointing one finger at his face. Daemon wishes to say he is unbothered by your hysterics, but instead, he grabs your accusing hand and tugs it. The delicate bones shift inside his hand, threatening to snap, and you're left with no choice but go towards him or break your finger.

Wisely, you choose the second. You are breathing hard, and looking up at him in righteous indignation.

“Brute!”

“I asked your maids.” Daemon smirks at you, something ugly appearing on his face. In truth, whatever you see spooks you because you deflate a little. “So? Shall you tell me the truth? Or must I find it myself?”

He makes it as if to lift your shift. You bat his hand away, hard. Interesting enough, you harden then.

“What else is there to know? Beyond that I am not on my moonblood?”

“We can start with why you lied. Or why you don’t wish to lay with me.” Daemon suggests, gripping you tightly so you cannot escape. He brings his face closer to yours.

Your eyes are wide. Your face is frozen into a terrified expression, like you are realizing all your lies are catching up to you.

“I didn’t want you to force me.” You say, voice barely a whisper. Who do you think he is? Some sort of monster? Your depraved half brother, perhaps? Daemon had already heard the exploits that one was up to. Jerking off in a window, of all things.

“Force you! If I wanted to force you, I could already have.” Daemon rolls his eyes. You were not trained in any sort of combat, and you were the kind who had her head in the clouds more often than not. You were not a match for him. If Daemon wanted to force you, he just had to pin you down or pull out Dark Sister.

You stay quiet, perhaps coming to the same realization. You have gone to bed next to him for nearly two weeks, only in thin shifts. Every day, you have woken up untouched. Doubt starts to cloud up your face, as if you are noticing how vulnerable you truly have been and how well Daemon has behaved.

As if he were going to be deterred by a little blood. He was a true Targaryen. It was in his house’s words. Plenty of maidens bled when being split open on his cock. Your moonblood would not be very different.

Daemon decides to appeal to your more… Hightower side. Perhaps that would get you to yield to him. He uses his more Otto-like tone, trying to sound as cunty as possible.

“It’s your duty.”

You shake your head, frantically.

“We can’t. It's not right. You are my uncle.”

Your words are spoken with such conviction, he has to fight the urge to scream. That was your problem? You? A daughter of the house of the dragon, complaining about incest?

“It is not unprecedented. Our whole line begins because Aegon the conqueror had his sister wives. And then, Maegor married his niece, too.” Daemon’s words are sharp. He lets go of you and starts to pace the room. Good Gods, what had Alicent done to you? Had she twisted your mind so, you now thought marrying him was wrong because you were related?

“And their marriage was cursed. No child was born out of their union.” You reply, with an ugly smile. He wants to slap it out of your little face. Smug little girl, thinking she knows everything about the world.

“Jaehaerys married his sister, the Good Queen Alyssane. They had plenty of children.” He insists, trying to get you to notice the flaws in your argument. Everyone knew that the only way to preserve the Valyrian bloodline was by marrying other Valyrians. Otherwise, the magic in their blood would dilute, and they would no longer be able to claim dragons. It was common sense.

“All of them turned out very… queer.”

“My parents..!” But you interrupt him before he can finish.

“Exceptionally queer, too.”

Daemon feels his face heating up. No one before has managed to infuriate him so. He wants to shake some sense into you. His hands itch for something to punish you with. Impudent little thing, daring to suggest his parents had been queer!

Queer! The queer one here was you! A Targaryen who opposed incest!

“Listen here, you awful little…”

“Stop that. Stop insulting me, by the Seven. You won’t change my mind.” You raise one of your hands, in the universal halt sign. “I will never share your bed.”

At that, Daemon thinks actual steam must be coming out of his ears. Never. As if. You would change your mind, he knows it. No one can resist him for long. He is experienced, charming, and handsome. A prince and a true dragon. What more could anyone want?

He would make you regret your words. He would show you. Under all your repressed, Hightower ways, you were a dragon. Targaryen blood ran thick. Daemon would have you eating out of the palm of his hand before you could realize. Before, he hadn’t really been trying. But now? He was ready for war.

“Come here.” He orders. You stare at him, and do not move. “You will disobey me in this, too?”

You step closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wish to make a deal.” Daemon says. You cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. But you will have to give me something in exchange.”

“What?” You tap your foot against the floor, impatiently. Yet your face, as always, betrays you. His offer has made you lower your guard, interested in what he has to say. Probably because you are seeing a way out of this whole issue.

“I want you to let me be as affectionate as I wish with you.”

“Fine.” You snarl at him, trying to look fierce. But you are too new to this game of pretending for Daemon to not see through your mask. You are confused.

He steps closer. He gathers you into his arms, and hugs you.

At first, you tense. Your arms remain glued to your sides, body stiff in his arms. Daemon enjoys the feel of it regardless. You smell like innocence, sweet and young. Your body is soft and feminine, nothing like the hard muscles of his first wife. He allows himself to relax into you.

Eventually, your body sags a bit. You relax into the hug.

“I wish… I wish….” You start speaking, face hidden in his shoulder. Daemon doesn’t let go. His gut tells him that whatever you are going to say, it is important. “I wish I wasn’t ashamed. And that… In our wedding ceremony, I would have liked to know what was being said.”

Daemon’s heart aches. His poor little Hightower, denied of her birthright. And then, a giant grin spreads on his face. Here it was. The opportunity he needed.

“I will teach you.” Daemon whispers, against your hair. He kisses it. It’s a lovely thing, an icy blonde that doesn’t fit your warm personality. Now that you are not fighting him, he is starting to notice you are very sweet natured. “I promise.”

“You will?” You look up at him, wary. “And what will the price be?”

Daemon chuckles.

“No price.” He caresses the bridge of your nose, tracing your features. You seem bashful at the attention, and it is so adorable, he can’t help but kiss you.

You startle. All coltish, you nearly elbow him in your haste to move away.

“What are you doing? We said no bedding!”

“I know.” Daemon smiles at you, indulgently. Now is the time to tread carefully, less you spook, and he ends up losing all his progress. “I just want to kiss my wife. Affection, for the sake of it. Kissing doesn’t need to lead to anything.”

You nod. You don’t seem convinced. But he soon discovers your hesitance comes from something else.

“I have never kissed anyone.” You whisper, almost ashamed.

“Then let me teach you that too.” And he is leaning in, and capturing your mouth with his.

“I GOT you something.” Daemon suddenly says, one morning. You lift your gaze from your book, an historic account about the doom of old Valyria, and watch him with curious eyes.

Your husband is carrying a bundle of cloth on his arms. He is back from his usual shenanigans in the city. Betting and drinking, but no longer any whoring, he assures you. The Lord of Flea Bottom is no more, or so he says.

It is quite early. You have just broke your fast with your mother, after the two of you did your morning prayers together. It is a ritual you find great comfort in, despite Daemon doing his best to discourage you. He doesn’t like that you worship the Faith of the Seven.

He has grown slightly more tolerant of Alicent as time goes by. You cannot say the same for her. Despite the fact that Daemon treats you well, she still can’t seem to get over the fact that he is Daemon Targaryen, the same man who had terrorized her father, courted her best friend and possibly murdered his last wife.

The bundle of clothes moves in Daemon’s arms. You place your book down, and creep closer, wondering about its contents. It’s then that you hear it. A soft, quiet mewl.

A grin spreads across your face. You cross the distance between the two of you, and watch as a small paw reaches out from the cloth, flexing its tiny claws. It is covered in white fur, the cushions on the bottom of it a soft pink.

“A kitten!” You say, delighted. You take it from Daemon and cradle it against you. The kitten can’t be older than a few weeks. His eyes are already open, a cloudy gray that takes your breath away. It’s love at first sight. “Oh, husband, thank you!”

“I saw it when I was coming back this morning. Thought you would like the damn thing.” Daemon says, gruffly. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I will name him… Quicksilver!” You say, cheerily. It makes his lips twitch a bit, unable to hide his amusement. This week, Daemon has been helping you practice your High Valyrian by reading a more recent text, accounting the times of King Aerys.

The language practice has brought the two of you closer. You are no longer as resentful or scared of him as you once were. You spend nearly all your evenings with him, pouring over gigantic tomes written in the language of your ancestors. Daemon patiently corrects your pronunciation, teaching you the right way of rolling the vocals, and how to accentuate your consonants.

You would have never thought you would enjoy learning so much. He is a very compelling teacher, clearly passionate about the subject yet stern enough to make you do all your assignments before their due date. Daemon is patient and encouraging, willing to explain things to you over and over again until you understand them fully.

The kitten yawns, showing a row of tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. You coo.

“Tiny but fierce.” Daemon smirks. “The Seven preserve us all.”

“How pious.” You tease, and Daemon steps closer. He grabs your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, Quicksilver still in your arms.

Despite having kissed him many times before now, you feel as weak to his advances as you had felt the first time he had kissed you. Daemon kisses like he is conquering, nipping at your lower lip until you open for him, and taking complete ownership of your mouth. His hands grasp at your nape, holding you against him. There is no escape from his kisses, and it fills you with a thrill you had never expected to feel before. Daemon wants you. He desires you, as a man desires a woman. There is no headier feeling than that.

At first, you had thought he was lonely. Why else would he ask for affection, when he was able to ask for anything else from you? That night, when he had found out you had been lying to him, Daemon could have asked for anything, done anything to you. Not a man in the realm would have judged him for it.

His behavior after that only seemed to confirm it. When the two of you were in public, his hands would linger on you, as if fearing you would leave his side. When someone told a funny joke, his eyes would seek yours before laughing, making sure you were still there.

It was an urge you understood too well. Abandonment was something you had learned to fear as well. Your mother had left you unwillingly. Your father and sister had both been eager to wash their hands from you. You guessed Daemon’s life had been a bit like that, too. From what you had heard, his mother had passed when he was a child. Your father had grown tired of him. And your sister… Well. That had been his fault.

When you grew up like that, you clung to every kindness, to every slice of warmth you could get. It was no wonder Daemon clung to you as hard as he did. It was difficult to live like that, not knowing what kindness feels like, grasping desperately to any scraps of it until you can almost piece together what the real thing feels like.

Despite having all reasons not to, Daemon’s attention never turned suffocating. Perhaps, you too, were starved for affection. You had gone your whole life with no positive male attention, being overshadowed by your sister and forced into almost a Septa-like life by your mother. His touches were never beyond the proper attention a man would show his wife in public. It felt almost… fatherly.

As a child, your father had never sat with you, or listened to anything you said. Daemon, instead, seemed to pay close attention to everything you did or told him. He sat for hours with you, pouring over myths and historical accounts, correcting your pronunciation of High Valyrian, teaching you the meaning behind old rituals.

It was as if a door had been opened for you. One you could use to glimpse inside his mind, and your father’s and even Rhaenyra’s. You understood now much more about how they behaved, and why they did. You didn’t necessarily agree, but you understood.

Some confusing feelings had begun to arise with all this new information stuffed into your head. You liked Daemon’s attention. He was charming, and it made you feel good about yourself, being able to keep someone as worldly and cultured as him interested in you. It made you wish, sometimes, to have been his daughter instead of King Viserys’. But at the same time, the way you felt and the things you did with him weren’t the kind of things you imagined daughters feeling for their parents.

When Daemon kissed you, as he did now, you felt your stomach swoop. His skilled mouth made your skin tingle, and all your hairs stand up on edge. It made you feel ashamed of yourself. You weren’t supposed to feel such things for your uncle. No matter how Valyrian, it was just not right.

What made you feel even more ashamed was the fact that sometimes, when he kissed you for too long, the place between your legs would get slick with arousal. You wanted him too, you realized, with the utmost horror. You wanted him like a woman desires a man. A wife desires her husband.

It is then the game starts. Daemon kisses you, and you kiss back, eagerly exploring his mouth and learning how to play his game. You make out with him for what feels like hours, until you feel drunk from his kisses and become as pliant and soft as clay being molded in his hands. It is then that you let him touch you a bit more, push the boundaries your previous truce has set. His hands grasp at your hips, his lips mouth at your neck. And when the edge of your shift starts to ride up, or his lips trail too close to the neckline of it, you jolt out of your stupor.

Shame licks at your spine, grabs tightly at the back of your head. Makes you stiffen under him, body set into a hard line. How can you be so wanton? Why do you behave in such whorish ways? You struggle then, overcome by the embarrassment you feel at your own behavior.

Daemon tries to subdue you. Sometimes, you fold, other times you spend the night tossing and turning on the bed, trying to get the upper hand. Sometimes, he wins, and pins you down on the mattress. But instead of forcing you, he kisses you again and the game begins anew.

You spend the nights like this. Kissing and struggling with anxious violence, until it has begun to replace the act of love. You can tell Daemon enjoys your struggles, the feel of your buttocks against his clothed crotch. You can feel the weight of him against your hip, burning hot and hard.

Eventually, he tires and heads out. You don’t know if he pleasures himself then, or if he just ignores his arousal until it goes away. You prefer the second when it comes to yourself. For hours, you stare at the ceiling, willing the heat in your blood to go away. Sleeps evades you, yet when it does not, it feels even more torturous. You dream of him, of the act, conjuring lewd positions and thoughts, until morning comes, and you feel like you have not slept at all.

This precarious balance could never last. You are not good at the court’s games, having been a wallflower most of your life. You are a stranger to waging tongues, and malicious comments, but Daemon is not. He is doomed to always be the center of attention, this husband of yours.

Someone notices that almost three moons after marriage, you are still a maiden And someone remembers Daemon’s lack of children with his first wife. One plus one makes two.

He comes to find you in the Royal Sept, as you are lighting candles with your mother. He grabs you briskly by the arm and drags you away, the match still alight between your fingers.

“Have you heard?” Daemon asks, breathless. It is clear that he has rushed to you. “What they are saying about me?”

You shake your head.

“How would I?” You are, after all, as isolated as you were before the wedding. Your only companions are Quicksilver, Daemon, your mother, and your siblings. And Aegon is at that terrible age, where he behaves like a little deviant. The others are too young to provide true companionship, Helaena stuck on her imaginary worlds and Aemond not quite a boy, not yet a man.

“They say I am impotent. That your womb has not quickened because I have not taken you. Because I am unable to.” The crude words Daemon speaks make your eyes widen. You have grown protected from the nastier side of court life, forgotten as you were. You cannot believe how someone would dare comment on a married couple’s bedroom activities, which are meant to be one of the more sacred things to happen between man and wife according to the Seven. Much less, how someone would dare to utter such poisonous slander.

“We know it’s not the truth.” You place your hand on his arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride. Daemon is, above all, impulsive. You fear he is about to do something rash, even if you do not imagine yet what.

Isn’t it enough that the two of you know the courtiers are in the wrong? You have felt the press of his member, hard against your hip, in the nights the two of you struggle. You have felt his hips rutting against yours, as his kisses mapped unknown constellations on your shoulders. What does it matter if Daemon hasn’t taken you? How can these people dare interfere, or even mention what the two of you do or do not do?

Shame, once again, grips you in its clutches. You feel your face warm at the thought of how these strangers must view you. Queer. Twisted. You wonder if they blame his inability to perform on your blood ties. If they think the Seven are cursing your marriage, just as they had with the ones of King Maegor.

“It isn’t.” Daemon says, coldly. He walks away, a tense line on his shoulders, and you walk back inside the Sept.

Alicent is still lighting candles. You sense that there are not enough of them to make a difference for what is about to happen.

That night, a disgruntled looking Harwin Strong wakes you up. He tells you how he is there to supervise your packing. You are leaving the city, he explains, to your bewilderment. Effective immediately.

As you place your dresses inside some linens, and ready Quicksilver, you manage to coax the story out of him.

Daemon had been at his usual haunt in Flea Bottom, betting on some cockfights. You could picture the scene clearly. Daemon, lazily counting his winnings with that infuriating smug look he got when he was proud of himself. An angry patron, getting up and on his face after losing to him.

“Maybe that cock will work for your wife!”

The whole establishment erupting into laughter. Daemon, cold smile on his lips.

“Go to your manse, and arm yourself. Because I am going to kill you tonight.”

After that, there was little he could say in his own defense to King Viserys. It had been a premeditated act, in front of multiple witnesses. No way of denying it, or trying to shift the blame.

You stood outside the city gates, observing Caraxes. He looked as done with Daemon’s antics as you felt. In front of you, stood the world.

Daemon strode by, being dragged by Ser Harwin. He was chained, but managed to look as carefree as any free man.

“You know the rules.” Ser Harwin said, unchaining him, before turning towards you. There was a bit of sorrow in his brown eyes, perhaps feeling pity for you. “Farewell, Princess.”

“Where to, Lady Wife?” Daemon asked, cheekily. There was no hint of remorse on his face. It seemed exile reinvigorated him like nothing else.

Your lips pursed into a thin line. You didn’t want to leave. It was scary, the thought of being away from home. The times you had been outside the Red Keep could be counted with the fingers of your hands alone. And what were you to do, friendless in the big world that opened in front of you?

You wanted to punish him. If he was giving you a choice, you were going to give him a lesson.

“To the North. Perhaps that hot blood of yours will fare better there.”

“ARE YOU sure?” You ask him, all pleading eyes. Daemon nods, already sitting inside the hot spring. You are strangely fearful of the warm water, perhaps, having already grown used to the cold of the North.

“If this scalds me alive, I will come back to haunt you.” You warn, turning to face away before beginning to undress. Daemon can’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, despite knowing how indignant it would get you were you to notice. He has promised to avert his eyes, after all.

Naive as you are, you never check to see that he actually does.

He watches as you remove your furs, and unlace your dress. It has taken him quite some effort to get you to feel comfortable enough to be naked in his presence. There might come a day when you are desensitized to nakedness, but Daemon guesses you are still far away from it. He has to keep trying.

You are worth the effort, though. His precious niece, sweet as the Maiden herself and twice as pretty.

“Dragons don’t burn.” He answers, absentmindedly. You are only wearing your chemise and your hoses, and as you lean down to remove those, he gets a perfect view of your cute rear.

“Perhaps. But I am no dragon.” You pull the chemise over your head, unaware of the fact that you are being watched. Daemon drinks in the sight of your naked legs, strong yet delicate, leading up to beautiful hips and a soft back. As you pull your hair up, he notices how the muscles of your arms and back move in a graceful combination that can’t be anything more but a natural gift. He spends a few seconds mesmerized by you, before you start to turn around and Daemon remembers he is supposed to be averting his eyes.

He fixes them politely on the other side of the hot spring, careful to not let you catch him looking out of the corner of his eyes. You are becoming sloppy in your old age, he scolds himself. Daemon can't help it. Lately, he feels more like the boy he once was than the man he is. His attempts at seduction are fumbled, he gets carried away by his passion, a single one of your smiles can render him tongue twisted.

Everything that you do is charming. The slight sway of your hips as you walk, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, but most of all, your personality. Freed from the cage of Alicent’s judgmental stares, you seem to be growing into yourself. Life on the road seems to suit you, despite your fearful nature. Surrounded by strangers, you no longer feel the weight of being judged for imaginary sins.

“You are. Just one with a more…. Fragile constitution.” How he wishes to be able to turn back time, sometimes. Gather the girl you once were into his arms and soothe all the old hurts. Raise you the right way, give you all the attention you had desperately needed and watch you bloom into an impressive woman. You were already a creature of impossible beauty. How much better could you have been, if they hadn’t stunted your growth?

You were too much of a Hightower, Daemon himself had thought once. But Alicent had thought you not Hightower enough, and she had tried to mold you into one, keeping you well away from what she thought of as queer customs.

Who had told you weren't a dragon? And how had they made that awful lesson stick, until you felt adrift, and belonged nowhere?

The sudden sound of water shifting, and you hissing makes him jolt out of his contemplation. Daemon turns his head the barest bit, managing to catch sight of your hips sinking into the water, and the shape of one of your breasts. There is one puffy nipple crowning it, hard and proud and begging to be bitten. He fights the urge to pounce on you, and instead remains sitting on his side of the natural pool and tries to relax into the warm water. Patience is of the essence in seduction, after all. You need to come to him convinced it is your idea.

“Ready.” You say, sounding a bit too close. He turns and there you are, right in front of him. You sit on the shallower end, water covering you to nearly your collarbones. Daemon playfully reaches out with his foot and touches your leg, making you jump. He laughs.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” Daemon’s voice still carries a bit of mirth. He can’t help it, you have such cute reactions.

“No. Almost like a warm bath.” You fan your face with your hands. Seeing you lose your composure a little, Daemon feels a bit guilty about pressuring you to enter the pool. It’s true you are not as used to extreme heat as he is. He rushes to your side, uncaring of his own nakedness.

“Too hot?” He asks you, wiping away a stray drop of sweat before it can get into your eyes. You mumble something incoherent, so he presses a hand to your forehead. He doesn’t want you to swoon from heat exhaustion, out of all things. But your temperature is normal. It is then he realizes your eyes are fixated on his chest.

Ah. Poor thing. Daemon can feel his lips stretching into a proud smile. Finally, succumbing to your lust. He should press his advantage, but he finds himself hesitating to do so. Despite how appealing he finds you, he understands that you are different. A being that walks the world of the divine and the mundane that skirts the two but was not made for the more carnal things.

Instead, he commits the sight to memory, for when he decides to touch himself. Perhaps tonight, even. It is something he has been doing more and more often. Daemon has found intercourse with whores is nowhere near as fun as laying on the bed, with you by his side, and tugging at his cock until completion.

He is never quiet about what he is doing. Soft grunts and moans fill your chambers each time he does. You pretend to be asleep, but Daemon can tell you are listening. The next day, you turn fevered with lust. It is you who kisses him, who rakes her claws along his back.

There is no consummation yet. But it is becoming clearer than once fully freed from the judgment of your family, there will be.

You sway slightly. Daemon opens his arms, and lets you curl into him. He guides the two of you into a sitting position, placing you firmly on his lap. Your hair falls into a mess of curls thanks to the humidity, up do barely resisting. He fixes it for you, tightening the ribbon keeping it up. Then, he starts massaging your neck and shoulders.

The pleasure of your bare skin under his hands is undescribable. It’s a luxury he has worked hard to get, and for that, tastes even sweeter. Your sweet little face is scrunched up, in a rare show of pain and pleasure. Daemon wonders if it is the face you would make when he spears you open on his cock.

An annoying hardness begins to make itself known in his groin. He feels like a mere boy, getting excited about the smallest touch. You are driving him mad. And Daemon is enjoying every second of it.

Almost as if listening to his inner monologue, you shift on his lap. Something seems to be bothering you. You can’t get comfortable, and you squirm on his lap more than a seasoned whore. Daemon can pinpoint the exact moment you notice what you are squirming on. Your eyes go wide and you freeze. An embarrassed look takes over your face.

He fights the urge to laugh, wrapping his arms more firmly around you and encouraging to rest against his chest. Daemon could spend years like this. Denial is a fun game. Months have passed, and he has yet to grow tired of it, of taking away your innocence little by little.

You lean in. You give him a playful little smile, and you bite, hard. The pain from your teeth blooms on his shoulder, making his cock throb.

“Impudent little thing.” He chastises, softly. “I should spank the defiance out of you.”

You laugh. You have come to realize that he is not as much of a brute as everyone painted him to be, and that he is too soft to make good on his threat. Ever since your argument, Daemon has never hurt you. He likes you too much for it. He wouldn’t force you to bed him, nor would he willingly do anything to upset you. Not even if you announced you didn’t want him touching you ever again.

Was this what love felt like, he wondered? Being happy with just sharing the same air you did, watching you play with your cat, being honored that he was trusted enough to feed the damn thing?

It probably was. But hell, if he was going to let it stop this corruption of your innocence. No. Instead, Daemon grabbed you by the shoulders and bit down on the hollow of your throat, playfully. You made a small sound, like a caught animal. He could tell you were getting ready to succumb to pleasure once more. His hedonist little wife, always ready to be put in a kiss drunk state. You turned liquid in his arms when it happened, going lax over him.

Daemon could tease you some more. Or… He leans in, breathing in your scent, before blowing a giant raspberry by the side of your neck. You shriek in laughter, squirming on his lap. Water is sent flying everywhere. He peppers your face and neck in kisses as you do, laughing st your squeals and squirming.

“Daemon.” You say, after a while, when the both of you have calmed down. Your head rests on his shoulder, expression hidden.

“Little niece.” He whispers, and you tremble at the endearment.

“I have decided something.” You whisper back. Somehow, your voice feels loud in the cave of the hot spring, nothing but the soft murmur of water being heard.

“You have?” Daemon asks, heart thumping in his chest as if he has just taken to the skies in Caraxes. He pulls you out of hiding, lifting your head towards him.

“I want to marry you right.” You say, shyly. You look deeply embarrassed. “Under my faith. So we can…” You trail off, averting your eyes.

“So we can..?” Daemon asks, feeling a triumphant grin spread over his face.

“Have a child.”

And oh, it is the most wonderful thing he has even heard. He will buy you a cloak, and a couple of ribbons for the hand fasting. He will find the two of you a home. Daemon says all this, as he presses his forehead against yours. Not even his conquest of the Stepstones felt as sweet.

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 4 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you finally start dating.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N: Look at me sticking to my upload schedule. Although I might be able to publish the final two parts earlier since I had more time to write because I had to cancel some plans thanks to conjunctivitis.

I hope you enjoy these two finally getting together. As always, happy to hear what you think :)

After your conversation with Jenni you continued to sit on the couch, staring at your phone as if the device would be any help in figuring out how to ask Ana out.

As it turned out, it actually did. While you were still contemplating, weighing the pros and cons of every option, your phone buzzed with an incoming message. Your heart skipped a bit when you saw it was from Ana, just like it always did. And your heart definitely skipped more than one beat once you read the message.

You read the words over and over again, finding it impossible to believe this was actually happening. For so long you had told yourself there would never be anything more than friendship between you and Ana, and now all of the sudden your whole world had been turned upside down in the best way possible.

A little birdie just told me about the conversation you had.

Hope you don’t mind she told me.

Jenni said you didn’t tell her not to tell me, so she thought it was fair game.

Anyway, what do you say about changing our hangout tomorrow to an official date?

You know as a date, as more than friends.

Ana’s reply was almost instant.

Of course I don’t mind, it makes my life a lot easier!

I really owe that birdie, but don’t tell her that.

And yes, I’d love to do that!

You quickly texted back that you were excited about it as well, before putting away your phone grinning like a fool.  You felt like you were floating on a cloud of happiness, something that you hadn’t experience in a long, long time, maybe never to this degree.  

Great, I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow.

Already looking forward to it.

---

The next day you got more and more nervous the closer the time for Ana to pick you up came. However, whenever the anxiety threatened to become overwhelming, you just thought about the Swiss woman; how happy you always were in her presence and how at ease she made you feel, as if you were perfect just the way you were. Every time you did that you immediately felt much calmer; less anxious nervous and much more joyful excited. 

 Still, it took you forever to pick out an outfit, mentally thanking Ana that she had texted you earlier in the day to at least let you know what style of clothes you should be wearing, elegant but not overly fancy. In the end you settled on a black dress because you could never go wrong with that, and it did show off your body in the best way possible.

Even with all the internal debating about your outfit you ended up being ready almost 30 minutes before the pickup time, because you had started so early. Therefore you settled down on the couch, trying and failing to distract yourself with your phone.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. With a frown you went to open it, hoping it wasn’t your parents with some sort of request to help them out. You definitely didn’t have time to do that right now.

However, when you opened the door and laid eyes on Ana your frowned turned into a big smile. You were always happy to see her, but tonight even more so. Finally you got to be with her in the way you wanted, no more pretending to be just friends.

“Hi,” you greeted her, too distracted by the blonde’s mere presence to wonder why she was here so early.

“Hi,” Ana echoed, stepping forward to hug you. You melted into the embrace and turned your face inwards against her neck, relishing in the fact that you didn’t have to suppress gestures like this any longer.

“Ready to go?” The Swiss woman asked you after a bit.

You nodded, grabbing the bag you had conveniently placed next to the door. When you turned back towards Ana, she reached out offering you her hand. You instantly laced your fingers through hers, the small contact filling you with warmth and an overwhelming sense of belonging right there in this moment.

When you were getting into the car you heard the church bells ring and suddenly realized how early the Swiss woman had been. It wasn’t like she was known for being unpunctual, but also she wasn’t usually this early.

“How come you were here this early? Did I have the time wrong?”

That seemed like the most logical explanation, even though you had checked the time in Ana’s text about at dozen times.

“Well, I knew you’d be ready early and I didn’t want to make you wait unnecessarily and maybe get anxious.”

Your heart melted at this. It was so thoughtful of Ana and it showed how well she already knew you. This fact put you even more at ease. There was no need to pretend or try to show yourself in the most favorable light, this woman already knew you and somehow she still liked you.

“Plus I was excited to go out with my friend,” the blonde continued.

For a second your stomach dropped at the last word, but when you looked over and saw the humor in Ana’s eyes you recognized that she was just teasing you.

“I guess I deserve that,” you conceded, “And for the record I never wanted you to be just my friend.”

You were a little surprised by your own boldness. However, Ana made you feel like it was not only okay to say what you were thinking, but that it was in fact exactly what the Swiss woman wanted.

“That’s good to know,” Ana stated, sounding much more serious all of the sudden as if she still hadn’t been totally sure about your feelings.

Suddenly you felt a little silly for not taking into account that other people got insecure as well. You had been so focused on yourself, that you had never considered how it must have been for the Swiss woman to constantly hear you emphasize that you were merely friends.

“I’m sorry about that, I just didn’t think there was any possibility you’d ever like me too,” you apologized.

Ana looked over at you sadly. “I know, but we’ll work on that,” she promised.

“On what?”

“On the way you see yourself! Don’t think I missed how you didn’t believe me when I told you that everyone I know on the Spanish national team likes you and is always looking forward to seeing you,” the blonde elaborated.

You didn’t quite know how to react to such blatant flattery. Most likely this was just Ana being sweet, but you couldn’t lie, it was still nice to hear.

“See, you’re doing it again. You don’t believe me,“  the blonde accused you softly.  

You whipped your head around to look at Ana, shocked that she could read you so easily. Up until now you had always prided yourself on having a good poker face, but apparently the Swiss woman saw right through it.

She didn’t say anything else though, merely smiling at you gently. The silence gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts. Once again you found yourself being surprisingly honest.

“It’s just because I’m nothing special, I’m just me. I’m too quiet and not very interesting. It’s not like I think everyone hates more or anything. But why would anyone particularly like me?”

In your opinion you had made a good point, but Ana’s eyes were filled with disapproval and sadness on your behalf.

“Because you’re a great person! You always have an open ear for everyone. If there’s anything you can do to help someone, you do it without hesitation. You have such a good heart and you’re so mindful of everyone around you, doing your best to make everyone feel seen and heard.”

“Sure you don’t talk everyone’s ears off as soon as you meet them, but once you’re more comfortable? You tell great stories that always make me feel as if I’m right there with you and I love hearing what you think about things because I can tell that you took your time to form opinions. And to see you speak passionately about the things you care, that’s just something else!”

“Also, I love how much you appreciate the beauty around you. Going somewhere with you is such a treat because you will always point out the pretty flowers, the interesting cloud constellation or the cute dog you see with so much joy and reverence.”

“And let’s not forget that you’re gorgeous. You have the most beautiful and kindest eyes I have ever seen and don’t even get me started about your smile!”

You were overwhelmed by how easily, without even thinking about it first, the Swiss woman managed to list all of these nice qualities. It made you more inclined to believe her. At the very least Ana had you convinced that she meant every word she had said, and that in itself was a good feeling, even if you weren’t convinced all of this was actually, objectively true.

“I could keep talking all night long about all the reasons why I like you so much, but I guess you wouldn’t really appreciate that. So instead I’ll keep bringing it up for as long as you’ll let me be a part of your life, which I’m hoping will be a very long time,” Ana concluded.

“That’s probably a good idea, otherwise you’ll spend the rest of the evening with a tomato head,” you joked.

You had always hated how easily you turned red, your frustration usually only making it worse.

“I wouldn’t complain about that for a second, I find your blushing adorable,” Ana commented, which of course only made you blush even more, but for once you didn’t mind as much.

You arrived at your destination soon after, and you immediately recognized the place from pictures you had seen of Lola and her girlfriend. So the mystery of how the blonde had chosen where to take you was solved. You had never actually been to the restaurant yourself since it was very romantic and mostly frequented by couples, but you had heard good things about it.

By the end of the evening you could definitely confirm that all the praise you had been told about the restaurant was justified. Although in all honesty every place would have felt like heaven to you when it was the location of your first date with Ana.

The conversation stayed mostly light and happy for the first half and hour, both of you enjoying each other’s company and this new and exciting situation. In a lot of ways it wasn’t all that different, you talked as easily as before, the conversation flowing effortlessly. So once again you realized that you had gotten into your heard for nothing. Things weren’t awkward or weird at all, like you had been concerned about.

Sure, there were some differences, all of them positive though; the way you kept slipping from normal conversation into light flirting, how you just gazed deep into each other eyes a few of times, and the way Ana placed her hand onto yours and left it there as long as she possibly could, sighing when she had to retract it because you both needed your hands to eat.

“So do you want to talk about the national team?” You asked, once the last of your nervousness had settled.

Ana shrugged her shoulders unsurely, smile dropping from her face. You had to fight the urge to take it back and apologize for probing; reminding yourself about the conversation you had had after the game against Barcelona. It was okay to ask, and if the Swiss woman actually didn’t want to talk about it, she would tell you. Still, this went entirely against your instinct.

“It’s just such a frustrating situation. Inka is a horrible coach! At least for us, maybe it’s just not a good fit, I don’t know, but for us it doesn’t work. We’re playing badly and the atmosphere at camp isn’t how it used to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing like what I heard about Spain, but everyone was kind of in a state of constant annoyance and was so happy when we could leave.”

“And the worst thing is that the home Euros is coming closer everyday and I wanted that to be the crowning moment of my career. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know, but now? Now I think it’s going to be nightmare, if I even get to go at all,” Ana finished her rant that had began passionate and angry, but fizzled out into something more like helplessness. 

Exactly like after the game against Barcelona the Swiss woman looked drained, her shoulders slumped and her smile no longer reaching her eyes. It made you simultaneously want to give her the longest hug in the world and go and punch Inka in the face.

However, since you were still sitting in the restaurant you settled on reaching over and giving her hand a good squeeze, before doing your best to come up with a good response.

“I’m so sorry things are like that and I’m always here to listen if you need to rant about it or hold you if you need to cry. Trying to keep in your emotions isn’t healthy.”

That was probably one of the most hypocritical things you had ever said, you who always held your emotions in until you felt like imploding. However, theoretically you knew that wasn’t a helpful thing to do, so you weren’t going to advise someone else to do that.

“And I can help you figure out if there’s anything you and the girls can do. I did a lot of reading and looking things up when everything was going down with Spain. Of course it’s a totally different system, but I’m still happy to help out,” you offered.

A soft smile, a real smile, one that made Ana’s eyes shine, returned to the blonde’s face.

“I appreciate how much you care. That means more than I can ever express with words. To be honest we’ve already started looking into what our options are and have been talking with the Swiss federation. So maybe it’s not quite as hopeless as it feels right now. The next few weeks should give us an answer to that,” Ana told you.

You felt some relief at that. Surely there was no way the Swiss federation would be as difficult and idiotic as the Spanish one. Right? Therefore things would hopefully be sorted out before too long and Ana would get the home Euros she deserved.

“That’s good. I’m confident things will turn out okay,” you said with more confidence than you actually felt. But Ana didn’t need to know that. If you were wrong in the end you would deal with it then, right now the best thing you could do was strengthen her hope.

“Yeah?” The Swiss woman double-checked, confirming to you that this was actually the right thing to do.

“Definitely,” you assured her, praying to a god you didn’t believe in that you wouldn’t be proven wrong.

“I think so too,” Ana admitted quietly, as if she was scared to say it too loudly out of fear of jinxing it.

“Now let’s talk about other things. I don’t want Inka to ruin the mood on my date as well, she has done enough of that during camp. How about we focus on your national camp instead? I heard you almost made Jenni rip out her own hair with your cluelessness,” the Swiss woman teased with a big grin.

Your first instinct was to tell Ana that it was totally fine to keep talking about the situation with her national team, that it wouldn’t ruin anything. But then she mentioned Jenni and all the teasing you had endured, and all of the sudden you wanted to beg her to continue talking about the Swiss team. Anything to avoid speaking about how oblivious you had been.

“Come on, let’s be honest Jenni would never rip out her precious hair or do anything else to ruin her looks,” you deflected, basking in the sound of Ana’s laughter. You would never get tired of making the blonde laugh.

You kept up the banter for a bit, before you remembered a specific thing you had been fretting about for the last 24 hours. It probably wasn’t something you should bring up on the first date, or maybe it was exactly the kind of thing you had to mention on the first date. You still hadn’t made up your mind about that.

All you knew was that in that moment, feeling happy and secure in Ana’s presence, you wanted to talk about it. And maybe it was time to do what you wanted more often and worry less about whether it was the ‘normal’ thing to do. What was normal anyway?

“There’s something I need to tell you”, you blurted out, kicking yourself for making it sound so ominous. No one ever said ‘I need to tell you something’ about unimportant stuff.

“Of course, I’m all ears,” Ana replied, smiling at you encouragingly.

“Okay, so…” You swallowed, trying to gather yourself. „I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. I mean I’ve dated and had flings and such, but never a serious long term relationship. And I don’t know it that’s a problem for you. I would totally understand if it was. And maybe I shouldn’t even have brought it up tonight, so I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward. Although if it is a problem then it was probably good I told you today. I…”

“Schatz,” Ana interrupted you. You didn’t really know any German, let alone Swiss German, but you were fairly certain you remembered this one. The use of a sweet pet name relaxed you significantly; she wouldn’t do that if this was in fact a deal breaker.

“I don’t care about that in the slightest. I’ve never been in a relationship with you either, so that will be brand new for me too. We’ll figure it out together,” the Swiss woman promised.

“Together,” you echoed. You loved the sound of that.

---

As time passed and more dates followed it became clear that Ana had been right. Things between the two of you just progressed naturally and not once did you feel out of your depth because of your lack of experience with relationships.

You shared a magical first kiss on a walk through the city after your second date. Ana’s lips felt pleasantly warm on yours in the chilly night air. After that all dams were broken and you spent a lot of time kissing like two hormonal teenagers, slowly or more precisely pretty rapidly moving on to other activities.

After the first time you slept together, the two of you lay in Ana’s bed facing each other. The Swiss woman gently traced her thumb over your forehead and your cheek, looking at you lovingly. Although you did your best to avoid using this word for anything to do with Ana just yet. It was too early to even think about love.

“Are you okay? Was this okay?” The blonde whispered, her eyes serious and for some reason slightly worried.

You stared at her in surprise. Could she not see how happy and satisfied you were, how cherished and lo- adored you felt?

“This was perfect and I feel amazing. You know I had sex before, right?”

Suddenly you weren’t sure if you had been clear about that. Maybe you had given Ana the impression that you weren’t just a relationship virgin, but an all around virgin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but still this is a big step and I just wanted to check in. It’s different when feelings are involved,” Ana elaborated.

For a moment you just grinned at her like an idiot. If you thought you had been feeling lo-, adored before, it was nothing to how you felt now.

“You’re just the absolute sweetest, tesoro. And you’re totally right, it is different. So much better! I can’t wait to go again, but right now I need some sleep. Someone wore me out.“

You looked at her pointedly, but that quickly changed into a smile when you saw how proud of herself Ana looked.

“In that case, sleep, mi Schatz. Because I definitely need you to be ready for another round soon,” Ana said, pulling you against her and kissing your forehead.

It took you all of five seconds before you fell into a peaceful slumber, your face buried in Ana’s neck.

---

However, you were right too, about everything sorting itself out with the Swiss national team. You were eating lunch at Real’s training ground when you heard, willing the time to move faster because tonight you would finally see Ana again. The two of you hadn’t been able to meet up the last few days because of insanely busy and conflicting schedules.

So when your phone buzzed with a message from Ana your heart fluttered happily. Hearing from her was always the highlight of your day. Things at Real were still less than ideal. You didn’t feel connected to the team, most of them still seeing you as ‘that Altético player’.

You were well aware that you were to blame for that as much as anyone, maybe even more so. Your efforts to integrate into the team had been minimal to say the least. And you felt a fair bit of anger at yourself for being so unprofessional, but somehow that still wasn’t enough to change anything. You just didn’t want to be there. It was as simple as that. And you could pretend, but you couldn’t change your actual feeling.

Day after day you forced yourself to be perfectly punctual, train hard, listen to the game plans and analyses, but there was no joy to any of it. Not even when you played games, something that you had always loved before. You were simply going through the motions.

At least you were having a pretty good season; otherwise your disappointment with yourself would have been through the roof.

When you checked your phone you saw that it was a screenshot announcing Inka’s departure from the Swiss national team. A happy squeal escaped you, everyone turning to look at you. It wasn’t like you to be loud, especially not in a cheerful way.

“What is it?” Misa asked curiously.

You simply showed her your phone, a smile appearing on the goalkeeper’s face.

“This is great news,” she agreed.

“Amazing news,” you corrected.

Now you were even more excited to see Ana later that night and celebrate this special occasion.

You were happy that you had decided to meet up at your place; this gave you the opportunity to prepare something special. However, you didn’t have much time, so you found yourself standing in the store after training looking around frantically and blanking on what to do.

The first idea that came to mind was to get a cake with a message like ‘She’s gone!’ on it. But you seriously doubted that you would get one on such short notice. Also a whole cake for just the two of you didn’t sound like a good plan.

So maybe just a card? What kind of card though? You had some strong suspicions that there wasn’t anything like an ‘I’m so happy you got rid of your stupid national coach’-card. 

You could practically feel the seconds ticking by, getting more and more anxious by the minute. Time was running out and you still didn’t have the slightest idea what to do.

Noticing how tense you had become you forced yourself to exhale slowly and relax your body, starting with your jaw and slowly progressing downwards. There was no reason to get so stressed about this. Ana wouldn’t expect any grand gestures; you wouldn’t disappoint here no matter what you did or didn’t do.

As you calmed down the fog in your brain lifted and you regained the ability to make decisions. After having a swift look around you settled on buying the ingredients for Ana’s favorite meal, as well as two caramel cupcakes. As a last minute decision you added two candles to put on the cupcakes, one an I and one a G. This way you could literally get the satisfaction of seeing Inka Gring’s legacy go up in smoke.

Later that evening Ana arrived at your apartment with a bright smile on her face and some extra pep in her steps. She immediately pulled you into a tight hug, rocking the both of you excitedly from side to side.

“I’m so happy for you,” you told her, leaning back slightly to beam at her, before getting closer again and peppering her face with light kisses. 

This made Ana giggle. “And you know what makes me happy?” She gasped.

You stopped your kisses and tilted your head, unsure of where the Swiss woman was going this. It didn’t seem like the kind of question she would ask if the answer was the obvious one; Inka leaving.  

“That you are so happy for me. It means the world  to me that you care so deeply, about both the good and the bad things happening in my life,” Ana clarified.

A blush cropped up on your face and you moved to hide your face in Ana’s neck, but the Swiss woman gently stopped you

“Don’t. You know I love your blush,” she murmured, placing her hands on your slightly pink cheeks and taking in every inch of your face. “So beautiful.”

Of course that only made you blush more. Ana winked at you, but didn’t stop you when you once again stepped forward to bury your face in her shoulder.

The two of you spent a nice evening together; spirits were high all around thanks to the good news. Ana showered you in compliments for your cooking and when you brought out the cupcakes she burst into laughter.

“I love this! Like a cleansing from Inka,” she said in between laughing.

“Shhh, this is a serious matter,” you chastised her playfully.

“Oh sorry,” the blonde replied, forcing a solemn expression onto her face.

However, it only lasted for all of five seconds before the huge smile that had been on her face all night long returned. You wouldn’t be complaining about that though. A happy Ana made you happy.

“To the end of the unfortunate Inka-area and to a better future for your national team,” you announced, lighting the two candles on fire. “Make a wish!”

Ana leaned forward and blew out the candles with closed eyes. Then she turned to you. “Do you want to know what I wished for?”

You shook your head firmly. “No! Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Ana smirked. “Too bad because it involves you.”

“Wait really? Then I change my mind and want to know,” you backtracked, mentally running through everything she could have wished for.

“Nope, too late,” the Swiss woman informed you.

“Meeeeeaaaaan,” you complained.

Ana just grinned at you, shrugged her shoulders and took a big bite of her cupcake.

When you continued to pout at her, she offered you a compromise, “Fine, I’ll tell you when it comes true, okay? And now enough with the puppy dog eyes. Otherwise I might crack and tell you right now and then we’ll both be at fault when it doesn’t come true.”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, biting into your own cupcake with gusto.

And honestly just knowing that Ana had made a wish that included you warmed you heart. It was nice to be such a big part of someone else’s life, someone other than your parents that was. But you wouldn’t think about them right now, nothing was allowed to taint this moment.

Instead of dwelling on your thoughts you looked up at Ana happily chewing the last bite of her cupcake.

“I love you,” you blurted out without thinking about it.

Once the words had left your mouth you instantly regretted them. Not that they weren’t true, they absolutely were, but you hadn’t said them to each other yet. So what if Ana didn’t feel the same and you just ruined this perfect moment? Or even worse, everything!

At least Ana was still smiling at you, that was probably a good sign. If she was going to leave right then and there she wouldn’t smile. Right?

“I love you too,” the Swiss woman simply said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Ana got up and came over to your side of the table. She grabbed your hands, softly pulling you up so you were on eye level.

“Of course I love you. How could I not? I guess we still have some work to do until you see yourself the way I see you, as such an amazing, good-hearted, beautiful person,” she told you earnestly.

“I really love you.” It was the only thing that came to mind, Ana’s compliments once again overwhelming you.

“That’s good because I really love you too,” the blonde replied with a chuckle, gathering you into her arms. “And I won’t rest until you love yourself too , exactly the way that you deserve.”

You just snuggled even closer into Ana, a deep calmness filling you up from head to toe. It wasn’t something you were used to, usually there was always some anxiety running in the background. However, the blonde brought you so much peace.

It was something you had never expected before you experienced it yourself. You had always thought love would be all excited butterflies and exuberance. There was some of that of course, but also this all-encompassing calmness, that was in many ways even better than all of the excitement.

[aza-writes]

Our Little Wolf and Little Star

Married Wolfstar x twin!daughters (Willow and Selene)

Requested: no

Summary: Wolfstar adopted two twin girls and raise them the best they can. 

Warnings: description of birth (barely), some cursing, kinda cringe, but it’s for the vibes. 

A/N: EVERYONE LIVES AU. Mary Kate and Ashely movie vibes. Also… listen to Little Star by Dion and the Bellmonts and Li’l Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham and the Pharohs for ultimate vibes. 

3rd Person POV

October 31st, 1980

The wait in the hospital was complete agony. Remus sat in an uncomfortable hospital waiting room chair. The only position that feels remotely comfortable is resting my head on my hands. His mind races faster and faster, watching his husband, Sirius, pace back and forth in front of him. James sits silently in the chair to the right of Remus. He’s trying his best to calm the pair down, but his words fall on deaf ears in Sirius and Remus’s overanalyzing ones. 

“Mates, you both need to calm down. Everything will be just fine.” 

Sirius stops his pacing and stares at James, his eyes wide with lack of sleep. “Calm down? What if something goes wrong? Why is it taking so long in the first place? It’s cause I’m stubborn, so they’re being stubborn to punish me? Fuck, I knew we should’ve used Remus’s-” 

“Siri, stop talking.”  Remus’s voice and eyes were stern as he sat back in the chair to get a better look at Sirius. The topic of who was going to donate sperm has been a sensitive one from the moment a surrogate was mentioned. The risk of passing his lycanthropy onto their future children was enough for the werewolf to insist on using Sirius’s for the donor. 

All Sirius does is roll his eyes and plop on the seat on the other side of Remus, head falling on Remus’s shoulder out of exhaustion and instinct. Remus’s hand slides into Sirius’s, their fingers intertwining. 

“I mean it. Plus, our kids would have your hair and height. That’s a win in my book.” Sirius moves his eyes to look up at Remus, but his head stays stationary.

Remus brought their hands up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of his husband’s. “It’s a little late for that now, innit?” 

The labor has been going on for 48 hours, but the couple’s anxieties have been going on since they found out the implantation was successful. It only intensified as the months went on, now at an all-time high. Both of them refusing to sleep in case the surrogate, Maud, started to push. They both wanted to be ready to run into the room and watch their daughters take their first breaths. 

As much as James tried to calm them down and convince them to sleep just for a bit, Remus and Sirius were too stubborn and sleep-deprived to listen. James even called Lily, hoping she would talk sense into them, but with her stuck at home with a one-month-old Harry, her over-the-phone and sleep-deprived threats were far less intimidating.

“Sirius, labor takes time. Lily was in labor for 12 hours. And you have twins, so of course, it’s going to take longer.” James’s voice was empathetic, but this sentence has been said three times already. Every comforting thing James could think of has been said, causing the words to lose meaning to Sirius. 

Although Remus was pretending to keep it together, he was a nervous wreck inside. He walked into the hospital as Remus Lupin: Wizard, Werewolf, Husband, but when he leaves, father will be added to that title. 

The muggle hospital seemed odd to the three wizards. It was much more controlled and secretive than anything in the wizarding world. The wing they were in was decorated with blue, pink, and yellow, with a quiet lullaby playing every so often, signifying a new baby had been born. Every lullaby that goes off that isn’t to celebrate baby Lupin allows jealousy and anxiety to grow more and more. 

“Sirius, Remus,” James takes a deep breath, “I know you don’t want to hear it, but maybe you should go home and get some sle-” 

“Sirius and Remus Lupin?” A nurse in pink scrubs walks into the waiting room. Her eyes scan and spot the two men rising from their chairs. She smiles at them and pulls her mask down. “Your surrogate is pushing; we’ll have you wait outside the room until she’s done. Come with me.” She turns around, and then men are quick to follow. 

James shouts a quick “Good luck!” but the fathers-to-be don’t even look back to respond. 

The two husbands wait outside the delivery suite, their hands intertwined. They waited less than ten minutes, their minds going a million kilometers a second, but none of those thoughts mattered when they heard a faint cry behind the door followed by a quiet lullaby version of “Happy Birthday” playing over the speakers. 

Remus’s eyes widen, the weight being lifted off his shoulders. Sirius’s smile widens immediately. It isn’t until they hear a second cry that the couple hug each other. Happy tears flow from Sirius’s eyes while he laughs out of relief. The soft lullaby plays again for the second baby girl, signaling everything is going well in the delivery room. 

A soft knock coming from inside the room interrupts their celebration. A nurse in pink scrubs walks into the hallway and smiles at the couple. “Would you like to come in and meet your daughters?” 

Sirius kisses Remus’s head as they enter the room. They’re given a bit of hand sanitizer before being given their little girls to hold. The two husbands thanked the surrogate a million times before being taken into a separate room to fill out paperwork as Maud recovered. 

The twins were no longer ideas and possibilities; they were real and in their arms. 

The two walk out into the waiting room with the babies swaddled in a soft pink blanket and pale yellow hats. Sirius’s tears started again when he saw the mass of people in the waiting room. It was no longer James, but everyone important in their lives was there to support the new parents. Lily was there with Harry, Regulus, Peter, Marlene and Dorcus, Mary, Alice, and Frank, who brought Neville. Even Andromeda showed up. 

“Everyone,” Remus’s voice was still a whisper, yet loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. “I am happy to present to you for the first time ever Willow Lily Lupin. Born at 7 lbs and 2 ounces. 1st born by 3 minutes.” He raises his elbow a bit, letting people get a better look at the sleeping baby in his arms. 

“And this is Selene Andromeda Lupin, who stands at 7 lbs and 5 ounces.” Sirius continues, smiling at the little bundle in his arms. His gaze couldn’t be broken even if he tried, and he didn’t want to. 

Regulus smiled softly before speaking up. “W and S, Wolf and Star, I’m assuming?” His eyes were locked on his big brother, someone he’d seen in this caring and protective role before, but this time it seemed out of love instead of fear. Regulus also wanted to start crying happy tears, but he refused to be in front of a large group. 

“I guess it is.” Sirius grinned and looked up at his brother before looking back down at the sleeping baby. “Hell, my Little Star.” 

“So Willow is Little Wolf then?” James ran the back of his finger over Willow’s cheek, replicating something he often does to Harry when he sleeps.

“I guess she is.” Remus's smile grows more if that is even possible. “Our little Wolf.” 

Sirius turns to his husband beaming. So much love and happiness filled his eyes. “Our girls.” 

Remus met Sirius’s gaze with the same love and tenderness. “Our girls.”

[jasntodds]

Penace [5]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 13,401

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, panic attack (jason), ptsd (jason), hurt/comfort, mention of scars

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update!! I had a bunch of stuff going on last month and stuff happened and I just did not have the mental capacity to edit this chapter. I'm so sorry!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next morning rolls around leaving Jason to wake up first. You're still sound asleep facing him, some of your hair covering your face. Jason takes a tentative finger and moves some of the strands from your face. He takes this time to exist. Sleep always came easier when you were around. Less nightmares, not as much tossing and turning, no insomnia. It was always easier with you around and last night was no different.

You fell asleep first just as you usually did when he read to you. You were cuddled into his side and it felt like it always did for that half hour. Just the two of you in bed together with a book and enough trauma for the both of you. Jason thinks you're both really good at being able to exist in a moment as if nothing happened. There's something in you that allows you both to ignore it all even for a few minutes and just pretend to be who you were before instead of just skin and bones.

The world, people, expect you both to be something specific, to act a certain way. You told him once, in a sort of one-off conversation, you felt like people expected something different. At the tower, you always felt like the others expected you to remain quiet or be angry all the time, to snap at some point. Maybe you did. But, your blood was never filled with anger but grief for what you should have been able to have. When Jason died and you got angry, they expected the silence. They expected the grief to hit you like a train. They expected you to quit, get revenge on the Joker before Bruce did. They expected more than rage-filled blood and red-stained hands. And they expected you to move on because what else was there to do? He was dead. And you were alone. People put up expectations and in some ways you feel like you need to meet some of them. Be more careful, get angry, snap, pretend like it's all fine because it's always been fine. But, then you lay down with Jason and you can watch movies and talk about your mom and you can exist in a way that you want without the weight of expectations collapsing your lungs.

Everyone thinks Jason is angry, always has even before he died. He was never angry. He was upset and hurt and didn't know where to put it. He was never angry but everyone expected him to be so he played into it. They expected him to be some sort of fuck boy so he played into it. They expected him to be reckless and so he was. Maybe he was always a little reckless, no one forced him to rob the Batmobile or go with the red hoods when he was a teenager. But they expect it. And now...Jason can feel it. They expect him to lose his mind and until then, they expect him to be fine. He lived, right? Joker is dead, Bruce avenged his death, and he was brought back. He should be fine, right?

They expect him to be fine without ever considering the scars lingering on his chest or marking up his mind like scuffed up wood. But with you, there are no expectations. He is allowed to read and tell you about theater stuff. He is allowed to have nightmares and be scared. He is allowed to just be. When Jason is around you, he's allowed to exist in a way that he wants without the weight of expectations strangling the life out of him.

Maybe that's why you can exist in moments like these as if nothing ever happened. It is the only time neither of you are facing some false hope of expectations. It is the only time you both can be damaged in all your glory. It is the only time you're allowed to bear your scars with pride and show the beauty they've left behind. You can just...be.

He eyes you softly, brows pinched together and you look so peaceful. He wants nothing more than to pull you into him and sleep like this all day. But it is not his place. He's surprised you stayed in the first place let alone stayed in bed with him. He is so glad you did but there is so much you haven't talked about. So much happened and there's just so much between you. He wonders if you'll ever be able to recover or if this is all you'll be. Just a one-off sleepover sometimes.

He doesn't like that idea very much.

Jason forces himself to get out of bed and make his way to the training area where he keeps his fridge. He expects to be able to grab a few eggs and make an omelet, see what else he has and maybe he could make you (and Tim) pancakes. But, as he enters the room, Tim is seated at the table with a tablet open and his brows pinched together.

"Oh, hey." Tim chimes, offering Jason a wave and a glance before he looks back to the tablet. "I made toast and a pot of coffee." Tim explains.

Jason scratches his head before he shakes it and fully enters the room. "Right, yeah, okay." Jason clears his throat, trying to get rid of the sleep still etched in his tone. "Did you even fucking sleep?"

"Yeah, of course." Tim brushes the question, voice still chipper and a part of it reminds Jason of how Gar usually was at the tower. "Early riser."

"A roof fell on top of you last night." Jason states as he walks over to the coffee pot seeing about a quarter of a cup left. He lets out a sigh before he dumps the pot in the sink and starts a fresh pot.

"Oh, yeah but I'm fine." Tim shakes it off.

Jason can almost hear your voice in his head telling him to push for an answer. A roof fell on top of him and his boyfriend is in a coma. Jason does not buy for a single second that he's simply an early riser. No one is an early riser with this job, not if you want more than three hours of sleep a night. It would be responsible of him to ask Tim if he were okay.

"Seriously, you alright?" Jason asks as he leans against the table to face Tim.

Tim looks up at him and while he knew some of Jason before, this is different. The most of Jason he knows is actually Red Hood related. You didn't talk a lot about him when you hung out and he only spoke to Jason a handful of times, usually about his order at Excellent Gotham. There wasn't much said about Bruce Wayne's newest son. Instead, he knows Red Hood is ruthless, brutal, and scary. He is intimidating and will kill someone if need be. He knows Red Hood almost got his dad killed and almost got you killed and got Dick killed. His association with Crane got him killed. Tim knows Red Hood is someone he wants on his side because if he's not, that could be for the worst.

But, he's looking at Jason Todd who happens to be Red Hood and in this moment he doesn't feel like any of those things. He feels like he did when you introduced him. Normal. Calm. Nice. Tim knew there was more to Red Hood. Not only did he meet Jason and he trusts your general opinion of people, but Tim doesn't believe anyone is as two-dimensional as they may seem. Yet, some part of him almost feels surprised with Jason asking if he's okay but it doesn't feel like it's out of obligation. Instead, it feels like he might actually be genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Tim answers. "Just..." Tim lets out a breath. "Gar said they haven't made any progress with Bernard. And I'm here..." Tim trails off. "Almost getting crushed by a roof and getting trained by you and y/n."

Jason pushes off the table as the coffee pot dings. "You've only been here like two days." Jason states as he makes his way back over to the coffee. "How'd it happen?" Jason asks as he starts to pour himself a cup, making sure to leave enough for you.

"Some video game thing that Brother Blood released." Tim groans. "No one knows how to get anyone out of their comas."

"Look," Jason starts as he walks back over to Tim. "That fucking sucks, alright? But, you and the Titans will figure it out. You're a genius, man." Jason lets out this scoff that comes out as a chuckle. "The way I see it, all those people and Bernard are lucky to have you looking out for 'em."

"Yeah, except I suck at this." Tim lets out a groan, tilting his head back. "I mean, Dick was...incredible. He was so good at this whole thing and he still is. And then you took over and you were just as great." Tim pauses for a few seconds as Jason watches the defeat start to wash over his features. "How am I supposed to live up to that when I can't even get any intel on this guy? When I can't even figure out a damn video game?!"

"Didn't you choose to be Robin?" Jason asks.

"Yeah but y/n said—"

"I died as Robin." Jason cuts him off because it doesn't matter what you said or didn't say. Jason knows Tim is going to be great at this. "Don't take what she says to heart too much. Her viewpoint of Robin will always be tainted because I died. Because it involved Bruce. You chose this, man." Jason points a finger at him. "No one else is crazy enough to do that, not after me. But you did. That means something. Don't get in your head about it, alright? You're smart as fuck and you're capable."

"But what if I was wrong?" Tim asks knowing it takes a special kind of confidence to not only volunteer to be Robin following Dick and Jason but to have the confidence he could do it.

"Dick wouldn't have asked you to be Robin if he thought you were." Jason says it so simply. "We were trained by Bruce for months before we put on the mask and cape, just remember that." Jason states as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Thank you." Tim offers a soft smile. "Didn't think you'd be the pep talk kind of guy."

"I'm not." Jason lets out a booming cackle. "So don't go telling people I am."

Tim lets out a soft laugh before he locks the tablet. "She still sleeping?" He decides not to push his luck and changes subject, surprised not to see Sam yet.

Jason nods softly. "Yeah, letting her sleep."

"She doesn't sleep a lot, that's what Gar said...that Molly said."

"Yeah..." Jason pulls in a breath as his heart starts to break. "Comes with the job sometimes." Jason only half-lies.

"She's sleeping now." Tim gains a cheeky smile.

"Shut up." Jason groans and he not getting into any of that with Tim. Nope. "Did you want something more than toast?" Jason immediately changes subject before Tim can try to return the pep talk favor for relationship advice. "Toast is a shit breakfast." Jason puts his Wonder Woman mug down before he gets up.

Tim offers a chuckle. "Uh...yeah, I could eat something else."

Jason looks through some cabinets and the fridge. "Omelet or pancakes?"

"Omelet?" Tim questions softly. "Didn't think I'd have an option." Tim did not thnk Jason could really cook, given the whole eggs, beer, and cheese comment.

"Was making both anyway." Jason retorts. He's just trying to be nice.

Tim lets out a laugh. "Oh, I get it."

"If you don't shut up, we won't train today." Jason almost wants to shut his head in the fridge door with his comment. Who the fuck is he? Dick? Gar? Ugh.

Meanwhile, you're finally stirring awake to an empty and cold bed. Your hand reaches over and you feel the spot where Jason was is cold. Your eyes peek open to see he's no longer there or even in the room. It's not that you should have expected him to be you think but there's a part of you that's still disappointed. Somewhere in your head you almost hoped you'd wake up together and you'd have one of your awkward realizations together. You'd stumble over yourselves and your words but it'd feel like home. It'd be warm and comfortable anyway. And then you'd find your footing where it almost felt safest, in the mix of bantering and flirting. But, he's gone. You're not sure that feeling is something you'd ever be able to get used to.

But, you get up anyway, stretching before you get out of bed. You grab one of Jason's hoodies from the table, tugging it over your head as you walk out of the room. You head to the room with the fridge that you're not sure you should really call a kitchen since there's all the training equipment in there, too. Why is he like this?

As you get closer, you hear Jason's laughter bouncing off the walls. Your heart skips a beat and you don't even notice the way the corners of your mouth perk up into a tender smile. You pause just to listen for a few seconds while his laughter subsides and he goes on with his story. He tells Tim some story about a fight with the Riddler and how mad he was. You've heard the story before but hearing him talk so casually and lightly about his Robin days makes you want to burst.

In the few times you've talked of Robin, there's been a sense of bitterness and sadness surrounding the mantle but now he's laughing and joking. He has stories that aren't tied with grief and pain. Robin always meant the entire world to him and you're so happy he seems to still have some of that joy telling the stories. You think maybe he is getting better. Maybe Leslie really is helping him again.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Jason quips as you walk into the room.

You clear your throat sarcastically. "Get fucked."

Jason flips you off with a tender smile while Tim lets out a laugh.

"Guess I won't make you pancakes then." Jason shrugs dramatically and you know it's a hollow threat but it is also not a chance you're willing to take.

Your eyes narrow slightly before a smile comes to your lips again. "Do not get fucked."

Jason tilts his head and lets out a laugh. "Dunno, think it'll help?"

You shake your head. "You are a bit uptight."

"Look who's fucking talking." Jason waves the spatula at her.

"I am so not uptight." You laugh as you take a seat beside Tim.

"Well." Tim adds in with a shake of his head and the scrunch of his nose.

"The fuck does that mean, Tim?" Your eyes widen at him.

Tim's eyes widen slightly back at her before he quickly looks to Jason. He might help him with Robin but if he wants to go back and forth with you on this front, that's all him. Jason will let him sink. He knows exactly which side he should always be on and it's wherever you are.

"You're on your own." Jason chimes, waving a spatula in the air as he turns back to the stove, the first batch of pancakes already on the burner.

"Nothing." Tim shakes his head with a smile.

"Right." You laugh softly as you roll your eyes.

Jason walks over with a mug in hand. He hands it off to you and your brows quickly raise seeing it's your Supergirl mug from the manor. You packed and moved but forgot the mug. While things aren't...bad per se, between you and Bruce, you did not go back for anything you forgot and you almost laugh. You may not have gone back but clearly Jason at the very least took your mug, likely with the intention to give it to Molly to give to you.

"Thank you." You hold your mug up to him as he goes to walk away.

"You're welcome." Jason gives you a bright and cheeky smile.

"So, what're we going today?" You ask the boys while Jason finishes breakfast.

"I really got to find this Venta guy and get back." Tim states.

"Figure we'll eat, train a bit, then help Tim here try to get some intel." Jason explains, finishing the pancakes before he moves onto the omelets.

"Sounds good." You suck in a breath, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Molly to let her know you're awake and what the plan is.

Jason finishes up your breakfast before joining you and Tim at the table with three plates in hand, a delicate balancing act on his way. Tim offers a quick thank you before digging in, the toast clearly not holding him over too well. You offer Jason a tender smile before you dig in. Your chest warms and your skin bursts with goosebumps knowing Jason made pancakes for you.

Jason offers such a specific type of subtle kindness that seems to be overlooked by a lot of people. It's not so much in his words which after all this time, you figured out it's just because he's not too good at expressing himself most of the time. For him, actions say everything that gets caught in his throat. And it's not just with you he does it with. Bruce preferred his omelet differently and Jason never even asked, he always just made an extra one with the things Bruce liked. Gar mentioned he was looking for a few Saga comics and Jason found them and shipped them to Titans tower just because he could. He always offers to help Molly with anything she's working on. He extends his kindness with actions just to display how much he cares about the people who offer him the same kindness.

You think it's one of your favorite things about him.

The three of you finish up your food and get changed for training. The three of you take your time stretching and getting ready to allow your food to settle a little. Training starts just as it did yesterday, Jason taking the first round and then you. Tim still doesn't stand a chance but you and Jason can already see some improvement the longer you train which comes as a big relief. 

After training, the three of you get suited up and head out, deciding to go to the marina this time. Tim rides with you, hoping to find something out tonight. He feels like he's running out of time. Meanwhile, you and Jason are looking to see how he does not in a training room with a safety net. A roof fell on him last night and he seems incredibly unbothered. To you, it only feels right to have him out on the streets anyway, even if it's under false pretenses. So, while you're "looking" for Venta or trying to get intel on him, you're also patrolling, showing Tim the ropes, teaching him the art of grappling between buildings. This is all just more training, making sure he'll be safe out there in the open without the security blanket of you and Jason or the Titans or being in one location. Jason and you think Tim will be just fine. He's smart and capable, he pays attention. This is not a game to him.

It matters.

It always mattered to Dick and Jason, too but it's different with Tim. Bruce offered Robin to Dick and Jason. They were his sons. Batman and Robin. They had months and months of training and while it was hard and brutal at times, there was something that felt magical about the whole thing. It felt surreal. With Tim, it's as if he feels he is obligated to fill the role. Unlike Dick and Jason, Tim chose it and there's somehow more pressure in that for him to prove himself. Tim is generally someone who can focus on things that are important and serious, but this is different. It is his life. It's the life of innocent people. He's having fun, sure, but he's taking it even more seriously than Jason and Dick ever did. It doesn't help he's trying to fill their shoes, something Jason does understand.

After hours of looking and patrolling, you don't turn anything up and head back to Jason's. Tim is incredibly disappointed by his inability to find anything out but you and you assure him that if Venta were in town or if anyone knew anything, they would have spilled with the two of you being around anyway. Between the three of you, someone would have told you some sort of information. You both remind him how easy it was to get information from the people you did question about other cases. Some people are harder but getting intel on one person rarely ever results in no answers. The reassurance does make Tim feel a little bit better about it.

While Tim is feeling a bit better and you're confident in his abilities, feeling pretty good actually, the case is not the same for Jason. Some days are just better than others and today is not one of those days. Waking up with you was refreshing but he's finding that to be the best part of his day because Tim put on the Robin suit. Jason isn't mad or bitter about it. It has nothing to do with it but something about it is causing him anxiety. Something about seeing Tim in the suit, or maybe just another rendition of the suit, makes him want to explode and run and cry and scream. He's been biting it down all day because it's his problem not Tim's. He hates it but something about it is pulling him back to Amusement Mile. Something about it is pulling him back to the anti-fear drug and Cran'e reign. Something about it is making him feel so small and useless. He thought he was making progress but you're back at his home and he's never felt so disconnected from everything. He thinks it's so dumb to feel upset and panicky over this.

He swears it's fine.

"I'm gonna shower." Jason clears his throat before excusing himself to head off to his bedroom as quickly as he can, trying not to raise any alarms.

Your eyes linger on the doorway. Jason might as well have run out of the door with how quickly he excused himself. You heard a slight tremble in his voice. It was sharper than usual and his steps weren't as light as they usually are.

"Is he okay?" Tim asks as he walks over to grab the suitcase for his suit.

You look back at Tim and nod once. During your patrol, you could tell something switched. Jason's been in a good mood and pretty casual about everything, generally speaking. Being in a good mood and things going well always seemed to poke a hole into his head a bit. And today, out there doing your thing, he was quieter, more focused. He's always focused but this was laserlike almost and you're supposed to be helping Tim. You'd make some sort of quip and all you'd get is a disguised chuckle from behind his helmet. If you know anything, it's knowing Jason Todd is in fact, not fine.

"Yeah, no I'm sure he's fine." You brush it off, figuring you'll check on him in a few minutes. "I kept him up pretty late so he's just tired, probably." You nod again, Tim not buying any of it.

"He was up before you were." Tim states as he walks back over to you with his case. "It's not my business, just..." Tim shrugs dramatically, showing genuine concern for Jason's well-being.

Your eyes go to your boots and then back to him. "Yeah, uh...yeah." You nod your head. "I'll check on him in a few minutes. I'm sure he's fine, Tim." You offer him a fake smile.

Jason's head is spinning while his arms are practically vibrating themselves from his body. His muscles are going so weak he can barely turn the water on for a shower. The air is thick and stale through his lungs, burning with every breath. His stomach twists and his eyes start to water despite his best efforts to stop it. The world around him starts to feel like it's closing in and suffocating the life from his lungs. The shower pelts the porcelain flooring, he swears he can hear you and Tim talking and walking from down the hall. His heartbeat is radiating through his ear canals and the passing cars sound like they might drive right through his new home. Everything is growing louder and louder and the thoughts start to kick in. They take a battering ram to the walls and that's when he can't even bear to stand anymore.

Jason carries the heartbreak of death on his shoulders and it is crushing every part of him.

Tim leaves you to go change and you follow his lead, heading for a bathroom. You take your time, giving Jason enough time to gather himself if he needs to before you go to check on him. And for a second, you almost even second-guess it. You haven't spoken in a month and a half, you're just now trying this whole friend thing, is it really your place? When Tim leaves, will you just go back to not talking with no obligation in the middle of you? What if you're wrong anyway? Maybe Jason has changed a little bit in this time and maybe he was just more focused because a roof fell on all of you yesterday. You run yourself in circles, not wanting to overstep and mind his space. Jason always liked his personal space, maybe a little too much but you don't want to intrude. You always felt like you were just intruding in people's lives, a mismatched puzzle piece trying to make yourself fit. It's not what you want to do to him.

Being around him was one of the only places you felt like you belonged. And Jason was the one that always made you feel that way.

You make your way to Jason's room once you're in your regular clothes because you can't bear not to check on him. He would do it for you and you know him. Despite it all, you're certain you always know when something isn't quite right with him. So, you make your way to his room and let yourself inside, shutting the door behind you.

You can hear the shower echoing from the en suite bathroom. The door is closed but you're relieved that he's in the shower and not losing his entire mind in his bed. You look around his room some more and you wonder what else he plans to do with it. You think it must feel more like a home than the manor did. Back at the Tower, he had some stuff on the walls that he picked up because the room was his. He graffitied the walls. It was his and it felt like his. But, the room in the manor still had a poster of the Flying Graysons. Jason didn't decorate the walls, something that always made you sad because it should have felt like a home to him. You never asked but you wondered why it didn't. It couldn't have just been Bruce because of how Jason views him. So, you wonder if it was because maybe he didn't think he deserved the manor or maybe it was that he felt like a replacement and someone else would come in to replace him anyway. Maybe it was a safety precaution for his own feelings of being left behind. You aren't sure but you hope this place feels like a home and he gets to decorate his walls.

The shower is still echoing through the door but you can hear the water clearly, no disturbance or movement. Your brows pull together as you make your way to the bathroom and knock softly. You don't get any answer and you don't hear any movement behind the door.

"Jay?" You ask as you knock louder this time. A lump forms in your throat while your heartbeat starts to spike. Your stomach burns and your teeth grit together. You remember the day on the roof. "Jason, are you okay?" You call again and don't get anything in response.

Your hand goes to the door handle and you pause for a second. And it's just a second before you open the door slowly. You carefully peek your head around the door, your eyes landing on the walk-in shower. The frosted glass door is open while water ricochets onto the white tile floor. And then there's Jason. He's seated, fully clothed in the shower, his knees are tugged to his chest while his arms are wrapped entirely around his shins. His head is buried in his knees and all you can do is shake your head in devastation.

You walk inside and close the distance between you. You keep your stance from outside of the shower, trying to mind his personal space.

"Jay?" You try again and you get nothing from him. It's as if he doesn't even register you in the room which might be one of the biggest red flags when it comes to Jason Todd. He is nothing but on guard.

You walk back to the door and shut it, just in case. Then you kick off your shoes and tug your hoodie off your head before you close the distance between you again. This time, you enter the shower, immediately getting pelted by warm water as you kneel down right in front of him.

"Jay, hey." You call his name again but this time, your hands are delicate and careful as you put them on his cheeks. He jumps immediately, head hooting up with eyes terrified and red. He looks panicked for just a few seconds until his brain catches up with what he's seeing. Your teeth grind together seeing the look of pain across his face. It's written in every line and feature you'd fallen so in love with over the last year. Your hands come to his cheeks again, just as tender as they were before and he doesn't even flinch this time. "What's going on?" You ask softly. Jason shakes his head against your hands and his eyes dodge yours and he feels embarrassed and exposed. Of course, you'd find him.

You always find him.

You always see him.

"It's you and me." Your voice is careful as your thumbs run over his skin. "I'm worried about you. What happened?" You brush the white streak of hair from his face.

"Loud." Jason's voice comes out hoarse and small and his bottom lip trembles. It takes every muscle in his body not to let out a sob.

"Okay." You nod your head once, the look of worry almost permanently etched into your features. If Jason had the strength, he'd push you away just to get you to stop worrying so much. He doesn't deserve it. You don't deserve it. "What happened?" You ask quietly, the water now completely soaking your hair.

Jason offers the weakest shrug you have ever seen. "Don't know." Why do you want to help him? Can't you see the monster he's become? His lip starts to tremble again as he tries to get a breath in but the tears are coming back and he can't breathe out of his nose. The water is dripping into his mouth and he almost thinks it'd be easier to just drown right here.

Not a day goes by that you aren't worried about him. It doesn't matter if you haven't spoken. It wouldn't matter if you hated him, as if that were even possible. You'd worry about him because Jason Todd has done everything to be enough. He has done everything to be happy and somehow, he's still the one sitting in a shower in tears because the world around him is suffocating. Yes, the whole Robin thing was worrisome. The whole Red Hood thing is worrisome. He gets shot out for fun. He taunts people because he thinks it's fun. Someone else is going to kill him one day, that much is certain. And while that is worrisome, you've also seen the damage people he loves have caused him. It doesn't have to be physical damage because Jason's own brain wants to torture him and it uses everyone else's words as some sort of infinite ammo. The vigilante thing is worrisome, but where Jason's head is, that's the real thing that's worrying.

It wouldn't matter if you hated each other, you would rip every false and cruel thought that ever crosses his mind.

You let go of his face and move your hands to his. You're careful, lightly pulling his hands apart and away from his legs. Once his legs are free, you move to the side and lightly press on his knees until his legs are stretched out in front of him. The whole thing is making Jason watch you with careful eyes and it's almost a distraction and then you climb on top of him. You straddle his lap, Jason's eyes never leaving you and it almost causes him more panicky. He might know you better than he knows himself, but he very rarely knows what you'll do in moments like these. But then, you don't say anything. All you do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him for a hug.

Jason tenses up just as he's done before but after a few seconds, a part of him relaxes against you. He gathers a full breath into his lungs and it's as if he's giving his body permission to lose it all again, in the comfort of you. His arms wrap around your middle and his grip is so tight as he lets out a sob, you can't breathe. You think you'd suffocate if it allowed him any type of relief.

It is all just too much. The weight on his chest is too heavy and he doesn't think he can carry it. He goes out and he murders people. They may be very bad people but it's what he does and he thinks about how Bruce is so mad about it. He tries to be understanding but they will never come to an understanding over it. It will be a matter of time before Jason ends up an enemy to Batman and by default, an enemy to Bruce. What makes what Jason is doing different than what the Joker did to him? To Jason, Batman and Robin were the Joker's enemies, right? And he took care of a problem, the same way Jason is taking care of problems. Jason might not be the instigator in it, but he's doing the same crime. Was Bruce right about it? Is he any different than the Joker?

Most days, it is a thing that he lives with. It's for the greater good and his soul is already damaged, it's already the property of something that isn't quite him anymore. It's always just waiting in an in-between for his second round at death. He does it so other people won't have to. He does it so other people won't feel like him or you or Bruce or Dick or Molly or any of them. He does it to help because people get forgotten. That's what he tells himself but right now, he can't quite figure out if that's really the right thing. He doesn't know what else he's supposed to do. If this isn't supposed to be the answer, then what is? What if it isn't and he can't come back from it anyway? His hands are already stained with so much blood.

And because of that, he falls back into his routine way of thinking. He is damaged. He is broken and scarred, physically and mentally now. Everything around him crumbles at his feet. He tries so fucking hard to be something that's easy to swallow and digest but he fucks that up, too because no one really expects him to be like that. He breaks everyone around him and all he does is hurt people. They try to offer him love and kindness and he bites through it like a rabid coyote. He is undeserving. Someone who is deserving doesn't push and they don't hurt people for being kind. They don't destroy people. That's all he has ever done.

And then he fucking died. It might have been scary and traumatizing but there was a moment, right before everything went dark where he accepted his fate. That would be it. No one else would have to suffer for his mistakes. He was going to die and some people might be sad for a little bit, but they would move on. And he wouldn't fuck up their lives anymore. And he wouldn't suffer anymore.

The ache in his bones would be gone and the voice would be quiet. All of the pain he's dealt with would just be...gone. He would take his last breath, and that would be it. He has hurt for so long that there was a moment where he accepted his fate, that it might just be better and easier this way. He did not want to die and he wishes he were able to have put up a fight but in that single second, he accepted it.

That feeling lingers with him today. He accepted it and as brought back. The reaper won't leave him alone, tugging at his lungs and his bones. It's not forceful, just a casual reminder of what's waiting for him one day. It's a feeling in his stomach that feels like the start of an ulcer. Just there, waiting for the right moment. And he saw the look Dick gave him when he saw Red Hood was Jaosn. He did not seem happy. You were at first pissed about it. No one really seemed too happy at first when he came back. He interrupted your grieving process and then interrupted everything else. He dies with the ache in his bones and the guilt because he has no choice but he swears he won't do this again.

He put a bomb in his helmet as a failsafe.

You pull his thoughts back to you as you press a kiss to his temple. "You're gonna be okay, Jay."

"I'm not!" Jason yells through a whine as he pulls away, his eyes on you. His chest is heaving as he pants for some sort of air. "I'm never gonna be fucking fine."

Why does the world treat him so cruelly? Can't it see that he is good? Can't it see that he has always been enough? Can't it see that Jason Todd has been through enough? He has suffered enough. You would fight the universe with your bare fucking hands if that's what it took for it to understand that he is done suffering.

"You will be." You nod your head at him as your hands come to the side of his neck. Your thumbs trace his jawline. "And you don't have to do this shit alone." You urge. "I told you, if I'm alive then you are never alone and I mean it. I don't care." You shrug harshly. "It's gonna be okay." You want to kiss him until he believes you. You want to kiss all of his hurt away, scare it away so far away that it never comes back. You want to kiss him as hard as you can so maybe he'll believe, once more, that he is worthy and he's gonna be okay and he is never fucking alone if you're breathing.

"I-I just want to stop." His voice has never sounded so defeated as he rests his head against your chest.

"I know." You whisper, your hand moving to the back of his head as you run your hand through the wet strands of black hair. "It will, you just gotta give it some time, Jay." Your voice is steady and calm, disguising the pain in your chest. "You've been through a lot."

Jason picks his head up, his green eyes are dark and miserable. Completely broken. "I died." Jason chokes out.

"Yeah." You nod once as Jason watches something devastating rip through your eyes. "Someone should have been there to protect you." You wish it would have been you. It should have been you to protect him.

Jason shakes his head and he lets out this chuckle that almost falls into another sob. "Maybe I was better off dead." He says it in one breath, all flat and sincere. "Look what I've become."

"No." You say sternly because he doesn't get to do this to himself again. He has prevented you from this exact spiral more times than you can count and he doesn't even know it. It's your job to make sure you repay the favor that was never really a favor. "You deserve to be alive." Jason catches a subtle break in your tone. "You became something that everyone was too fucking cowardly to become. You save people." You nod firmly. "Do you know how many people you've saved as Red Hood?" You ask.

"Not fucking many." Jason lets out a huff.

"Three hundred and two." You answer right back.

Jason's eyes widen and he is so certain you're making that up. "What?"

"Three hundred and two." You repeat. "There was a domino effect, too. I didn't actually count that because it would be like... impossible but I did account for some of them. A guy was gonna blow blow up the museum but you stopped him the day before he had a chance. So, you saved every person that would have been there. You've stolen how many guns from Black Mask? I mean just think of how many people you saved because you took those guns? Domino effect. Of course, there was the apartment fire last week which I don't know, Jay. You're not a firefighter but you still went into it and saved a whole family then went back and saved their cat."

Jason's eyes burn and sting as he stares at you in disbelief and confusion. The water pelts him and it's the first time he realizes it's going a little cold. Why the fuck do you know that? Why are you keeping track? Jason doesn't even believe you. You have no reason to keep track of how many people he's saving. It's his doing and it has nothing to do with you. There is no reason for it. You're just telling him this shit to make him feel better even if that's never been something you've done.

You don't lie to him.

Jason didn't think you'd start so soon and he did do those things. The Gazette wrote a few articles about it though and Molly knew. Maybe that's how you knew but your eyes are soft and your fingers are idly playing with the wet strands at the base of his neck. Why are you keeping tabs on him when you never called?

"W-why the fuck do you know that?" Jason finally gets the words out and you can't tell if he's actually mad about it or concerned.

You hope he's just concerned.

You shrug and offer him a small but cheeky smile. "Cause I do." You suck in a breath. "Have my ways."

The very corner of Jason's mouth tugs upwards just barely at the thought that you're really keeping tabs on him, outside of hearing from your friends. If it were anyone else, he'd be pissed. He can take care of himself despite what this situation might look like to an outsider. He can take care of himself and he doesn't need people worrying about him and keeping tabs just to be disappointed or mad. Jason Todd has never needed anyone but you keeping tabs on him both as Jason Todd and Red Hood is different because you only do it for people you care about. You weren't talking and you still kept up with what he was doing. It makes him wonder why because you could have called. You could have asked yourself and maybe that makes the tiniest smile fall.

Jason didn't call either.

"Keeping tabs on me?" Jason asks with a rough but quiet voice, his brows pulling together.

Not keeping up with him feels impossible. As much as you're beating yourself up for everything and as much as a part of you doesn't think you deserve anything with him at all, there was always a part of you that knew you needed to keep up. Molly and Gar might know what he's doing as himself but Jason's going to keep them away from Red Hood as much as he can. Somewhere inside your stomach, you knew you'd find your way back into each other's lives one way or another. You just wanted to know what he was doing and if he were okay. The only thing you want is for him to be okay and killing people is not the easiest thing in the world, despite what it might look like sometimes. So, you've been keeping up with him just in case.

He's important to you, of course you keep tabs on him.

"I know you're keeping tabs on me, too." You whisper back to him, the cheeky smile completely gone from your lips.

Sometimes Molly will ask an odd question, something she either shouldn't know about or something off-handed. All of the Titans would just ask you which means the only person in Molly's ear is Jason. And you know damn well Molly is smart enough to know you'd figure it out. You just don't say anything. You give Molly the answer and Molly updates you on Jason's things. Okay, so she's a little in the middle of you and Jason but Molly knows you're both mostly asking about each other because you're worried. It is so stupid and you're so emotionally stunted, but it'd drive you both crazy not to know.

Jason just needs to know you're okay.

"Maybe." Jason finally gets a grin onto his lips because you knowing without saying anything until now makes his heart swell. Even apart, you just can't help yourselves.

"Exactly." You let out a soft laugh.

Jason nods a few times, his smile turning gentle. "Why, uh, why do you know that though? How many people?" Jason asks and he finds himself resting his hands on your hips as if on instinct.

"Helps." You answer casually. "Keeping track of everyone you kill and everyone you save by killing, it helps. Keep track of mine, too so...I kept track of yours...just in case." You clear your throat, dodging his eyes. "Know how you are and stuff so...uh, yeah, just...knowing it does help...helps on days where it feels like this might be worse." You explain softly. "It's not...by the way." You clarify. "Greater good but yeah...uh, yeah, you know sometimes it's a lot to carry."

The way you word it makes Jason's heart burn. His hands grip your hips a little tighter and he remembers the night outside of Jerry's. You nearly beat him to death and everything was still heavy. It was still a lot to carry and Jason told you to put it on him. When it gets too hard to carry, put it on him because he can carry the weight of it for you. You swore you'd do the same for him and Jason wonders when you seemed to lose that.

He knows. Deep down he knows because it haunts him in his sleep. That night outside of Excellent Gotham when you were finally done absolutely destroyed him. He knows that was the night you both lost everything. That he lost everything. He had almost gotten you, Tim, and Mr. Drake killed and you couldn't do it anymore. Jason still doesn't blame you even if it makes him want to lose his mind to guilt and regret all over again. It hurts because he always felt so secure with you but then that happened and it was like everything he ever had finally collapsed at his feet. An earthquake disguised in the words of "you win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done." crumbled his foundation. Your love had been wilting away ever since he came back and that was the day it all finally fell apart.

He wishes he could take it back. He wants what you had back.

"Still will carry some of the weight for you, Jay." You suck in a breath.

Can the wilting process be reversed? Can it be rebuilt? Or is it tarnished forever? Or can you rebuild something better? If Jason committed now again, would it be better? Could you get a fair fucking chance at this time?

Jason grinds his teeth thinking that he wants you. After all of this and you are still willing to be soaking wet in your clothes in a shower with him and carry the weight of devestation for him when it's too much for him. He is endlessly and hopelessly in love with you. He wants you. He wants what you had before and he wants to rebuild it. Somehow, some way, that is what he wants and fuck if he thinks he deserves it or not because you wouldn't be here if you didn't feel the same way.

Jason leans his forehead against yours. "You can still put it on me." Jason whispers softly and you gain a soft and subtle smile.

You don't know it, but Jason is entirely committed to you. Maybe you won't want to try again and Jason can't even blame you. It was a fucking shitshow and he died and you almost died. It was a fucking disaster. Maybe you weren't, but your worlds burned around the both of you and charred you both in the process. Maybe you won't want to and that's fine. But, Jason wants to try it all one more time, banter and games and then falling into something. It might not have worked the first time, but it'll be different this time. He's so sure of it and he is so sure of you. He just wants to find his footing and allow you to find yours first and then, even if it makes him want to throw himself through a window, he'll start the conversation.

You pull away, resting your hands on his cheeks. "Why don't we get up, get dry, and I can stay if you want me to?"

He always wants you to stay.

"Ya don't have to if you don't want to." Jason offers even though he knows you will anyway.

"I know." You smile softly at him before you scrunch your nose at him. "Guess you're just stuck with me."

Jason lets himself laugh. There's no such thing as being stuck with you. You don't get stuck to people and you make sure people don't get stuck to you. He is not stuck, it is always a pleasure to have you around. Even when it's hard.

Sorting yourselves out is for the best. It hurts the both of you more than words could possibly describe and a part of that does not feel it's for the best. It feels, somehow, more complicated now than it did before. It's as if you've both forgotten how to walk around each other and that part feels wrong. You both strolled right into each other's lives before and made yourselves right at home as if it were always meant to be that way. Being a part and sorting yourselves has left this gap between you that you're not sure how to build a bridge back. But it's for the best because you can't be together and offer each other the care you deserve if you're too busy dealing with your own traumas while trying to help the other one. It's a little too much to throw in a romance. It sucks and Jason knows it.

"Thanks."

"Of course." You get up, leaning over and turning the shower off finally.

You offer your hands to Jason and help him to his feet. The both of you are completely drenched and it makes Jason laugh. Your hair is soaked, the small bit of eyeliner is running down your cheeks and your t-shirt sags pathetically over you. You stick your tongue out at him and then laugh with him. He doesn't look much better than you do so you laugh, heartily and loud, the booms bouncing off of the tile surrounding you. It's all a little ridiculous.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask as you gasp for a breath.

"You look like a drowned rat." Jason bellows before he grabs the two towels from the towel bars.

"Fuck you!" You yell before sucking in a laugh and catching the towel from Jason. "So do you!"

"I know!" Jason agrees with you which only makes you laugh more and he thinks you're still the prettiest person he's ever met.

His laughing subsides first and turns into something soft and tender while you just smile at him before rolling your eyes. Jason wides his eyes to mock you and then he turns around. He rests his towel on the counter beside him before stripping down to his boxers and you can't help but watch. You're starting to feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you grow colder but the sight of Jason Todd stripping down? That is not a sight to be missed.

He's somehow more toned now than he was before. The muscles of his back flex with every movement as he dries himself off. The Lazarus pit healed his face and the other injuries he sustained from the Joker but it didn't get rid of his previous scars. The one from his dad is still there and the other one from a fight on the streets. You still like how they look on him. Proof that he is alive. And the only thing you want to do is wrap your arms around him and kiss up his shoulder blades.

You almost do it.

Your feet almost move and you can almost feel how his skin will be warm against yours. He'll straighten his stance at first and then he'll relax. His hands will come up to your arms and a chuckle will fall from his lips the second you place the first kiss between his shoulder blades. You both would be happy.

You almost move.

But it's not your place anymore.

So, you will yourself to turn around and strip down just as he did, leaving you in just your bra and underwear to get as dry as you can. Jason peaks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of your back to him. He could feel you practically boring into his back and he's relieved you turned around. It wouldn't normally bother him but he'd have to turn around eventually and he wasn't in for that conversation at the moment. But, he offers a glance, catching the raised lines of scars through your back, something that still boils Jason's blood.

Your scars never bothered him. Proof that you fight like hell to make it out alive. But, it pisses him off because what the fuck did you ever do to deserve the mistreatment? Nothing in this world justifies the horrors you went through and the fact you have to bear the scars for the rest of your life as if the haunting memories weren't enough. Jason gets it more than anyone, especially now. And all he wants to do is pull you into him, litter kisses across your face until you burst at the seams with laughter because you're happy. At least if you're laughing you're happy and that's what you deserve. To be happy.

Jason shakes his head and says he'll be back with some dry clothes before he darts out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He takes a few minutes to get some dry clothes on himself, making sure he's covered with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His body starts to warm up almost immediately from the clothes and then he rummages through his things looking for something for you to wear. He grabs a pair of boxers for you, sweatpants that he only kept because they fit you better, and a red t-shirt.

When Jason gets back to the bathroom, you're seated on the toilet seat with the towel wrapped around you, cutting off just above your breasts. Jason offers you a smirk because who are the both of you if you aren't going to do this whole banter thing?

"Wanna give me a show?" Jason quips.

You snap your attention to him, seeing a pile of clothes in his hands and him now fully clothed. "No, fuck you." You chortle back as you get to your feet.

"But I'm sad." Jason gives you the fakest pout you've ever seen.

"You're still obnoxious." You quip, gesturing with one hand to get the clothes from Jason.

Jason keeps his smirk. "Better than shithead."

"Shithead." You beam up at him, still waiting for him to hand over the clothes.

"Babe." Jason laughs before handing over the clothes.

You smile back at him with the roll of your eyes. "Maybe I'd have given you one if you gave me one." You blink up at him and Jason knows damn well this is a trap.

"In your dreams." Jason holds his confidence.

You shrug, deciding to play the game. It is always the most fun that way. "Those are my best dreams."

Jason feels his cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Don't have just be dreams, babe."

"You fucking wish."

"If I did?" Jason quips without missing a fucking beat.

"I know you do." You roll your eyes and he knows he's won. "Turn the fuck around or get out."

Jason lets out a laugh before he leaves you to get changed, closing the door behind him. "I'm right out here if you change your mind about the show."

"Fuck you!" You yell before Jason hears you laugh behind the door.

Jason leans against his dresser, tugging out his phone to see what he's missed. He has a few texts from Gar, mostly just TikToks and one asking how things are going. Jason decides he'll respond later, not in the mood much for explaining that one. There's a text from Dick asking how Tim is doing and Jason replies that it's going fine, not offering any further explanation. He knows damn well Dick sent the same text to you and you'll elaborate more. There isn't much else on his phone so he goes to his gallery, a habit he can't quite break.

He hasn't deleted a single photo of him and you from his phone. It's an endless and helpless bit of hope that it'll be you and him at the end of this. And these are pictures from a better time because even when he was dealing with the shit from Deathstroke, at least you were both happy. Everything still seemed so simple compared to how it feels today. It feels like years have passed since you were in your bed changing your lock screens to matching pictures. It's as if you've lost your last bit of innocence in those few weeks of terror and agony. Jason figures that's just a consequence of endless trauma. He grieves for the kids you should have been allowed to be. Innocent and dumb and stubborn and carefree. He grieves for the people you both were in the pictures on his phone.

The door opens, tugging Jason's attention up and away from his phone before he pockets it. A tender smile pulls at his lips as you walk out in his clothes, he swore they always look better on you anyway. You have a pile of clothes in your hand, topped with the black towel. You walk right up to him, standing just a few inches from him and beam up at him before you offer the stack to him.

Jason tilts his head back with a laugh before he pushes off the dresser. "Am I your fucking maid now?" He quirks his brows at you.

"I don't think you want me to answer that." You laugh right back and it's something airy and warm.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck you."

"If you ask nicely." You fire right back and you watch the subtle tint of surprise fade over his face. You let out a snicker before Jason deadpans. "It is still so much fun to fuck with you, Jay."

Jason isn't the only one chasing the innocence of a few months ago. You can feel it, too. It's dark now. Something heavy is lingering in the air everywhere you go. You hate how it feels and ignoring it doesn't do you any good but what else is there to do? At the very least, the way Jason laughs still makes you smile. At the very least, the way he laughs makes the air not feel so heavy anymore. The banter makes things feel a little bit better because at least you're talking, at least you're still on the same page. At least it's still him and you.

"Give me your damn shit." Jason grumbles through a smile while you do as told through a laugh. "Just...wait here." Jason stutters for a second before he darts out of the room.

You make your way to his bed and sit down, your hand landing on his pillow. There's something hard under it and while it isn't your business, you pick up the pillow anyway. Jason keeps a gun under his pillow and the smile evaporates in a second. You know why he does it but...it's the reality of it. The heaviness of always having a weapon at the ready even when it dangers your own life. To live in fear. To live always on guard. It's not fair.

Your heart aches for him. Even after everything, he deserves better. He has always deserved better but now he's stuck here dealing with the monstrosities he was manipulated into doing and dealing with dying. It's all not fair and you wish you knew what you could do to make it better.

You carefully grab the gun, checking the safety and you're relieved he's at least keeping the safety on. You rest it beside you before you look on the other side of the bed, not seeing any other weapons. You'd hope you would have noticed last night or this morning if he had anything out in the open. But, Jason wouldn't which makes you wonder where else he's hiding his weapons.

"What're you doing?" Jason's voice brings your attention back to him.

"Why, uh, w-why do you keep a gun under your pillow?" You ask.

Jason's teeth grind against each other, knowing he can't lie about it. He moved it last night when you weren't paying attention. He'd never have you sleep in a bed when it could go off. But, by the way you asked, that's not why you're asking. You don't even sound mad but Jason is embarrassed anyway. Exposed again, twice in one night because of course he keeps weapons at the ready. He needs to be prepared for anything. Joker took care of the job once already and Jason has been doing a great job in making more enemies than friends these days. He keeps his guard up at all times so he doesn't get beaten to death again.

"I put it there." Jason states, stuffing his hands into his pockets, practically gluing his feet to the floor. Maybe if he doesn't move, you won't ask any more questions.

You blink at him a few times. "Yeah...I-I knew that?" You question him. "That's fucking stupid, you know that?" You ask with the nod of your head. "You might have the safety on but what if it goes off?"

"Look, it's not a fucking thing. You don't have to make it one." Jason shakes his head, gesturing a leisured hand towards you, trying to brush it off as much as he can.

You roll your eyes before you get up, gun in hand with the barrel facing the floor. "I'm not judging you for it. I get it." You shrug your shoulder as you hand the weapon to him.

Jason holds it in his hand, grip tight while he watches you go to your bag. His brows furrow as you start digging into your backpack. You pull out a switchblade, metallic blue shining against the low light of his room. You walk back over to his bed and put the knife under his pillow.

"It's locked so it shouldn't open on you while you're asleep. Just don't lose that one, I like that one." You roll your shoulders, eyes locked on his. "I got those from Bruce so they're good for throwing." You explain as you swallow thickly and you can see Jason wanting to fight you on it, defend himself but he doesn't need to. Jason Todd never needs to defend himself against you. "I have one under my pillow, too." You say quietly while you watch Jason's face soften and his shoulders relax.

Being with you was always the place he never felt judged for anything, even the blood staining his hands.

"Thank you." Jason takes a few steps forward, finally unsticking his feet from the wooden floorboards. "Don't have to look after me, though." Jason says it simply, a hint of hurt in his voice. He takes a seat beside you. "Not your job anymore." Jason's eyes are dark and sad, something tugging his thoughts back to a place they shouldn't be.

"I know." You say quietly. "It was never a job in the first place." Your eyes go to your hands and Jason can feel the lump in his throat growing again but this time, for the love he thinks he lost from you. Or the love he thought he lost. "You're still my favorite person." You whisper back to him and you don't know why you say it. You only know that it's true and it's always been true. Maybe he just needs to know it's still you and him.

"Still?" Jason asks, his eyes searching over your face for any indication that you're going to throw out some quip.

"Mhm." You hum with a subtle nod.

Jason looks to his hands in his lap and he misses you more than words could possibly describe. He misses your honesty and your care and your quips and the snark. He misses every aspect of you and he is so in love with you. He thought, for just a second, maybe that feeling would fade. Time would pass and it would fade, especially lately. You'd meet again and maybe it would be so different that he wouldn't feel like his heart would burst from his ribcage at the sight of you. You always deserved better than him anyway. After everything he put you through, you deserve better than that but he can tell by how you stutter and tug at your sleeves, the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes after the last bit of banter, you aren't entirely happy. Being with him, for some reason he'll never understand, made you happy. And being with you always made him happy. You're sitting here and it's as if his very heart is trying to climb through his chest to get to yours. He is still so endlessly in love with you.

"I miss you." He says it quietly, looking back to you and he wishes he could tell you the other eight letters but..that all seems a little too honest and a little unfair. He doesn't expect you to say it back.

Every day you wake up and you love him. Every day you wake up and you miss him. Today was the first day in two months, you didn't miss him. You didn't miss him because he was down the hall. You didn't miss him because he was here and so were you. Today was the first day in two months, your chest didn't ache with the thought of him. You miss him, too and you miss his smile and his laugh and the new addition of the white streak of hair. You miss his sarcasm and his ability to turn anything into some sort of joke. You always miss him. And you are endlessly in love with him.

"I miss you, too." You whisper back, eyes locking on his.

The haunted words of 'I love you' scrape down your throat, knowing it's not your place to say them. It's too honest, too vulnerable, too exposed. It's too much for both of you and it's not fair to put that on him. It's not fair to put it on him because you aren't sure what you'd do if he knew. It's agonizing swallowing the words. You have felt more at home today than you have in two months. Jason deserves to know you still love him despite it all but you can't say it.

The room falls silent, the air between you growing humid and thick. Tonight was a bad night. They happen sometimes. Sometimes the weight of it all drags Jason down and he can't pick himself up. But you walk right in and don't even hesitate. You always know what to do and you never even question it. Tonight was a bad night but you were here and he is thankful for you. He's coming into himself as Red Hood, knowing, most nights, that what he's doing is for the greater good. He's getting along with Bruce and they're actually trying for once. He sees Leslie once a week. He is trying, making a solid effort to move past everything that's ever made him feel like a burden. It's the forgiving himself for what happened that drags him down.

Everyone was right. It was his choice to go to Crane. He didn't have to. Sure, maybe it wasn't really him while he was high, but it was. It was him making that choice to keep taking it, it was his choice to ignore every single offer you ever made to bring him back just because he was pissed and stubborn and he felt abandoned. So many people have suffered because of what he did under Crane's control. It may not have been the real him but he still did it. And that's a very difficult thing to forgive himself for. And it only ever gets worse when you're involved because you were the one person who never even thought about giving up on him until you were given no other choice. It's a very hard thing to forgive himself for but he is trying.

Leslie says he needs to learn to forgive himself, everyone else has forgiven him and that should mean something.

He's trying.

He's trying to forgive himself and be better. He is trying to accept the care and kindness of others without second guessing their motives or when they'll up and leave.

He's trying not to push.

"I..." Jason stutters. "I really miss you." Jason says again, hoping you get it because he can't stand to not have you in his life anymore.

Your face softens as your heart shatters through your chest. You forgave him for everything the second it all happened. Sometimes, you can feel yourself upset about some of it but it's just the grief kicking in again. The grief of everything you both lost the second he made the decision to go to Crane. It is the one decision he has made that you don't understand but you aren't Jason. You weren't Robin. You weren't stripped of the most important thing to you, of your identity. Not like Jason was. And you forgive him anyway because Jason doesn't like to hurt people. Especially people he cares about. Pushing has always been a way to hurt himself, not other people. You forgive him for everything even if he doesn't know it.

You wish it were different so you wouldn't be suffering through the pain of missing each other. It doesn't seem very fair, especially tonight.

You know what he means.

"I really miss you, too." Your voice is honest and Jason thinks you even sound scared, a reminder of how he sounded the first time things got a little too real with your feelings. Those words hold the same meaning that they do for Jason. Everything you're both too scared to say tonight.

You lean forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder and you know your heart will only ever belong to him. It'll always be safe with him. Jason's eyes soften as he looks down at you and instead of making some quip or joke, he lets you sit in the moment. He rests his cheek against your head and all he wants to do is kiss you. This isn't easy for you either.

You lift your head and Jason's eyes are big and green, the prettiest shade of green you've ever seen. He is still the only thing you have ever wanted. He will always be the only thing you'll ever want. And Jason can feel it, too, like an invisible string tugging you together in every universe, in every timeline. You are the only thing he has ever wanted. You are the only thing he will ever want.

Jason hopes you know he feels it, too so he rests his forehead against yours first this time. Your eyes close as your shoulders relax and Jason finally lets out a breath before his eyes close. He'll never ask because that's too soon into whatever this friendship is going to be but he's hoping you stay awhile. Stays past morning tomorrow and into the night. You don't have to talk about any of it, he just wants you to stay and he wants to stay just like this because it's the safest he's felt in two months. And it's like a reflex, embedded deep into his DNA, he brushes his nose against yours as he feels your breath fan over his lips.

You match him but instead, you brush your lips against his. You haven't kissed him in a month and a half yet it feels like it's been an entire century. Kissing him has always washed away every doubt and ounce of sadness you've ever had. Him kissing you has always made you feel wanted, the two of you against the world. That's how it should have been and that's how it should be now. You want to kiss him so badly you think you might burst into tears. Life was always better with him in it. You want to kiss him to show him that even if you can't be together, you still love him with every ounce of your existence.

Jason's head starts to spin and he holds his breath. He's thrown right back to that time in the manor when you told him to prove it. You said it and he never put in a single thought after that. He took the leap and he thinks it was one of the best decisions he's ever made. That kiss sealed your fate together, even for just that short time. It brought you to him in a way he didn't think he'd ever be lucky enough to have. Being with you made him feel lucky for the first time in a very long time.

Maybe you can do this again. Maybe the way for you to do anything is to tiptoe into it. It didn't work last time but it wasn't for lack of trying. It was Jason who fucked it up but it had nothing to do with you and him. Maybe falling back into each other is how it's supposed to be. Maybe you could fix it all. It's just lonely without you. He's terrified but your lips brush over his again and you're making the first move this time. You can still quiet every horrible thought he's ever had. He loves you with every ounce of his very existence.

Jason brings his hand to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheek. Your skin is always soft under his callused fingers. He thought maybe you'd back out because you do that. You run from everything, you back out, it's all a joke and that's that. It would be incredibly painful but...you don't. You lean into him instead. So, Jason finally closes the bit of distance between you and brings his lips to yours.

You smile against him and Jason can breathe again. He can breathe again as you kiss him back and your mouth moves with his. This might be a one-time thing but that's okay because even if it's just for this moment, you choose him. And he chooses you. You will always choose each other. In the chaos of your lives, somehow, you find your way back right here with your hands pulling the collar of his shirt closer to you and his hands on your cheeks. You choose each other anyway. Despite the pain and heartbreak and chaos and all of the terrible, horrible, thoughts, you choose each other. Even if it is just for a moment, Jason decides to take the second leap and he wants this moment to last as long as you will let it. If you'll have him.

Jason moves his hands to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he tugs you closer to him. You get the hint and without breaking the kiss, you move to straddle his lap, Jason guiding you down. His hands squeeze your hips and he tugs you as close to him as possible while your hands find their way to his shoulders and then the back of his neck. Your fingers tangle in the damp hair at the base of his neck. The kiss grows sloppy and desperate, teeth clanking against each other and it is the most cathartic feeling the both of you have had in a long time.

It is healing parts of you both you didn't think possible. Normally, it's Jason questioning your feelings because why would you ever love him after all the damage he's done? But, it's you questioning that as you kiss him with everything in you. You're just like everyone else, why would he forgive you for that? Why would he kiss you like he's still hopelessly in love with you? You broke a promise to him and he's still here and you have no idea why. But, tonight, you're going to allow yourself to be thankful. All that matters right now is that you're here, together, just him and you.

Jason swears you have left a permanent make spelling out your name across his heart and Jason wouldn't have any other name in your place. And a part of him thinks you know, too. It's as if it glows and heats up the center of his chest whenever you're around. It's like his heart becomes a beacon of light on the top of a lighthouse the second you kiss him. You make him feel alive again and he doesn't have to feel so alone when you're here.

You feel so at home with him. Every piece of paranoia that's been coursing through you fades away and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, with Jason you're safe. After everything, he will always protect you. You will always protect him. You're tied together even if you don't want to admit it to each other. You've ruined each other for anyone that would ever come after and the both of you have never been so thankful.

Jason pulls away, his chest heaving as his eyes open slowly. Your eyes meet his slowly, pupils lust-blown and you have a loving and lazy smile spread across your lips. He thinks he could do this all night long.

He gains his signature smirk. "Did I win that time?" Jason's eyes glance to your lips.

You deadpan and shake your head. You expect absolutely nothing less from him. "Shut the fuck up."

Jason lets out the warmest chortle you've ever heard. "That's a yes."

"Just shut up and kiss me." You groan before colliding your lips with his.

You can feel him grin wildly against your lips before he falls right back into rhythm with you.

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[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 67: Fitz's Last Show

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tw: mind control, kidnapping threat, abuse threat

September 1905

The old theater smelled of makeup and mothballs, sawdust and sweat, and Fitz couldn't be happier to breathe deep of it. It was the first show he'd done since getting kidnapped, being sold to Lex, and negotiating his way into his heart, so to speak. It was undeniably strange to be back here in the wings, with performers and stagehands bustling about, after all he'd been through.

The ordinary world of ordinary humans… how many of them knew about the supernatural permeating the city? Did any of them? Would they live and die not knowing that vampires were very real and very dangerous, that they could be snatched up at any moment and have their lives turned upside down forever? Would Fitz have died without this knowledge if he hadn't happened to pick Miss Lily as a volunteer that night?

Truthfully, now that he was back among humans, it almost felt as if his life among vampires was a distant dream. Almost, because Lex had promised he'd be in the audience. Because he knew that after the performance ended, he'd return to the manor and to Lex's bed, to comfort each other as they slept.

For now, he was enjoying the swish of his cape and the feeling of shuffling cards, waiting for his cue. He was following a respectably talented pair of acrobats -- a high-energy act, and that meant he should aim to keep the energy high as he launched into his own act.

Soon enough, the applause had settled, and Fitz strode onto the stage as though he were born there. "Tonight, I will present to you the most ingenious marvels of modern times," he declared in grandiose manner. "I will demonstrate to you the mysterious arts of clairvoyance and levitation passed down in my family from ancient times, power which modern science is at a loss to explain. All I ask of you is that you listen and watch carefully…"

It was nonsense patter, of course, but if he said it in a regal and convincing manner, the audience would be rapt anyway. He pulled out his deck of cards with a flourish and began to shuffle rapidly, scanning the audience for a volunteer for his first sleight-of-hand trick.

Of course, he couldn't help but notice Lex seated in the front row, looking up at him with an encouraging smile. It took all his willpower to not simply call on Lex as his assistant, but he had to be patient and enlist him for a surprise later on. Instead, he used the tried-and-true method of choosing an attractive young lady in a fetching dress to appear on stage, knowing that it would make his show that much more captivating for a good portion of the audience.

Even as he went into one of his oldest and most well-practiced card tricks, he found himself glancing over at the audience for Lex's approval. Not that he needed it -- after all, he'd already received Lex's blessing to go back on stage -- but…

Well, perhaps he did need it. The thought of Lex finding his false displays of magic embarrassing was too much to bear, especially since he knew that Lex would swallow his real criticism and damn Fitz's show with fake praise. Well, then, he'd have to execute his magic well enough to genuinely impress a vampire of legend.

Maybe someday he could work mesmerism into his act. Wouldn't Lex be surprised to find the tables turned on him! He could just picture the look on his face, even if it didn't actually work. Yes, he'd certainly have to try that.

For now, though, he had to stay focused on his sleight-of-hand, pretending to pull an endless string of scarves from the lady's ears. This trick was less about finesse and more about dramatics and timing, and he could hear the validation of laughter from the audience. Oh, how he craved that, the feeling that all eyes were on him, that he could make a crowd gasp and laugh and shout.

"And now, I'm going to need another volunteer for my big finale!" he said, making a point to swish his spangled cape as he swept his gaze over the audience. He closed his eyes and feigned deep concentration. "I'm searching for someone with the potential for magic… someone open-minded to the world of the supernatural… someone with an aura of power…"

With a dramatic flourish, he "randomly" pointed right to the place he knew Lex was sitting. Lex glanced around and mouthed "really?" as Fitz beckoned him up to the stage.

Lex shuffled his feet and fidgeted, and Fitz realized with growing delight that he was shy on the stage. It was absolutely adorable. "May I have your name, my good man?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Alexander," he said, the look in his eyes asking Fitz where he was going with this.

"Splendid! It's good to meet you, Alexander. Isn't he a handsome one, folks?"

Lex's expression froze in embarrassment as there were cheers of approval from the crowd. "Is he married?" yelled one young lady in a bright pink dress, to general laughter.

"I'm not married, miss, but I'm also not available," said Alexander awkwardly.

"Aw, shucks!"

Fitz couldn't be more delighted at seeing his vampire squirm. "Now then, Mr. Handsome, if you'll sit on this chair for a moment…"

He launched into more meaningless patter as he set Lex up for his levitation trick. It used a clever mechanism where the "assistant" was lifted up by a platform concealed by his clothes and the magician's careful placement. The platform was being operated by a teen-aged stagehand, and Fitz gave him a thumbs-up and a wink to signal that it was time.

Lex, for all his embarrassment, played his part very well, laying on the platform and allowing himself to be lifted, as Fitz picked up a hoop covered in ribbons and waved it around his body. The audience was eating it up, too -- it was a great crowd, easily won over, and Fitz felt as though he could burst from joy at the applause as he finished up his act.

"Wasn't he wonderful? Let's give a hand to my very handsome assistant, Alexander!" said Fitz, flinging an arm around him and encouraging the crowd's raucous response. Oh, how he had missed this, the feeling of adoration, the knowledge that he had lifted spirits.

"Is this really necessary?" Lex asked quietly.

"It's extremely necessary. You did fantastic. And --"

Heads were turning to look at someone walking up the aisle of the theater, approaching the stage. He was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, and his mannerisms were stiff and unnatural, as though he were a wind-up doll. With all eyes on him, the strange man stopped directly in front of Fitz and held up a single, flawless red rose.

"For your performance, Fitzwilliam de Hastings," said the man in a dull voice. "My master sends his regards."

All of Fitz's joy and good cheer evaporated, replaced with cold panic. He found himself frozen to the spot, as frozen as he would be if Lex's sire were here himself, unable to even speak. The thrall, seeing that Fitz was not moving to take the rose, set it down on the stage and walked away with the same unnerving gait.

"Fitz!"

Shivers racked his body. His palms and knees hurt. His vision blurred.

"Fitz!" A hand shook his shoulder. "Fitz, wake up. Please wake up."

Fitz opened his eyes, not sure when he closed them. He was curled up on the stage, and he couldn't remember why. He must have collapsed to the wood floor. His head felt dizzy.

"Here, let me help you up," said Lex, picking Fitz up in a way that looked like he was helping with support. "You have to leave the stage for the next act."

"The next act…" he said in a daze. The lights dimmed. He was backstage.

"Where's your dressing room?"

"Umm…" He couldn't think. He felt almost like he was dying. Was he dying?

"His dressing room's down that hallway, third door on the left," said a nearby helpful soul.

The next thing he knew, he was being set down in a rickety wooden chair, and Lex was looking into his face with deep concern. "Fitz. Fitz, are you with me?"

"Uh -- "

Fitz was pulled into an embrace, his face pressed against Lex's shoulder, as Lex rocked slowly and hummed. With no resistance, Fitz felt his muscles unclench as he sank into Lex's embrace, allowing himself to be soothed.

"It'll be all right, Fitz, I promise," Lex was saying. "I won't let him take you. I won't."

"Take… take me?"

"Shh, don't worry about it. Just rest for a minute. Can you rest for me?"

He could rest for Lex. He didn't have a choice, with that insistent song in his ear. It felt good to lean into it, to close his eyes and let go.

When he next awoke, he was in a carriage, laying across Lex's lap.

"Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy." His voice croaked, and he realized he was parched. "Thirsty."

"I'm sorry that there's no water for you here, but we'll arrive at our destination before long."

"Where are we going?" He sat up enough to look around, trying to ignore the way his head spun. "What happened to the stage? My show?"

"I'm afraid you passed out at the end of your show, but the audience loved it up until then," said Lex.

None of this made sense. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something he needed to remember. "The rose… your sire…"

"Yes."

"Then that did happen."

"Yes. But as I said, I'm not going to let him take you."

The questions crowded Fitz's mind. "Is he trying to take me? Is that why he sent his thrall?"

"Apparently so."

"How did he even know I was performing?"

"I don't know. He has no interest in vaudeville performances and variety acts, so I thought your show would be well beneath his notice. Perhaps I should have known that nothing is truly beneath his notice."

Bile rose in Fitz's throat, and he briefly felt like he was going to pass out once more. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to kill him tonight," said Lex with grim determination.

"Tonight? But didn't you still have preparations to do?"

"There was a note on the rose," said Lex, pulling a small card from his pocket, which Fitz impatiently snatched from his hand.

The card was written out in impeccably perfect handwriting in dark blue ink.

Alexander,

This winter, I will be arranging one of my infrequent galas so as to appropriately remind vampire society of my presence. I will, of course, require appropriate entertainment of the highest quality. To that end, I require the return of my newest thrall so as to have sufficient time to undo his current, unacceptable training and cultivate him into something worthwhile.

While I understand this is less time than the year you were promised, my thrall's recent appearance in a vulgar, tasteless show aimed towards our inferiors forced my hand. I truly had no choice but to put an end to this farce. So as not to unnecessarily waste my time or yours, your punishment will be initiated tomorrow evening, when I arrive at your manor to reacquire my thrall.

Regards, the Maestro

"Why?" said Fitz with his hand shaking. "Why does he want me so badly? Why do this?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!"

"It doesn't matter!" said Lex more forcefully. "I have the entirety of the vampire guild under my spell. The night is still very young. There's more than enough time to round them up and execute on my plan."

"What if it doesn't --"

"Fitz." Lex stopped his mouth with his hand. "It will work."

Fitz slowly, helplessly nodded as Lex removed his hand. "It will work," he agreed, because what choice did he have? He couldn't bear to think about what would happen if it didn't.

He'd somehow managed to put it from his mind, hadn't he, the pain and the cruelty and the terror. The hold that Lex's sire had on his mind and body, the way he casually demanded his own spawn cut out her tongue. The way he was hell-bent on destroying everything Fitz was in order to turn him into an obedient clockwork doll.

How had he forgotten so easily? It was one thing to confidently declare that he wanted to have some fun before his doom; it was another thing when the fun was over and the doom was staring him in the face.

It was out of his hands, now. All he could do was trust in Lex to protect him.

"Where are we going?" he said, glancing out the window. It was an unfamiliar part of town. "Are we headed to the vampire hunters' guild?"

"Not yet. I need to put you somewhere safe first. We're going to Lily's house."

Other plans flitted through Fitz's head. He could head to the railway station, flee on the soonest outbound train. He could go to the docks and gain passage on a ship going anywhere. He could steal a car and drive it west or south as far as he could, finding a sunny town where vampires didn't roam.

Pointless fantasies that he wouldn't pursue, because his fate was bound to Lex's now. He knew that on a deeper level than rationality. He knew that, even if he were capable of voicing the thought, the vampire would never let him go. He knew that if Lex were to let him go, he wouldn't accept it.

Lex pulled him into an embrace and cradled his head on his shoulder. "It'll be all right, Fitz. I'll finally put an end to my sire, and this time tomorrow, we'll both be free. No one will hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"I know, sir. Lex." he repeated numbly, the words like ash in his mouth. He wanted to believe it so badly. But even with all of the work he'd put in to gain Lex's affection… no one had ever truly protected him. Not when it was difficult, not when it really mattered. That's why he had always made sure he was able to protect himself. But there was nothing he could do against Lex's sire.

He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't bear to think about it. Instead, he grasped Lex's shirt and pulled him in for a hard kiss. It wasn't about love or passion, but a shield against the terror, a diversion before the grave. Lex returned the kiss mechanically. He seemed colder than usual.

They broke apart as the carriage came to a stop, tumbling out in front of a sensible brownstone. Lex knocked on the door, and there was no answer. "C'mon, Lil," he muttered as he knocked again and again.

Just as Lex was starting to despair, the door was opened by a plain-looking woman in a cheerful orange frock. "Oh, Lord Alexander, sir," she said. "My madam is indisposed right now. Could you come by at another time?"

"Tell her it's an emergency. It can't wait."

"Very well, sir." Nellie disappeared back into the house without closing the door, allowing Lex and Fitz to enter.

The place was filled with frippery, ornaments, and knick-knacks, frilly curtains and floral couches. Fitz didn't have much time to look around before a very annoyed Lily emerged from upstairs, dressed in a thick robe with a towel wrapped around her hair.

"What the hell is so important, Lex?"

"Our sire is coming for Fitz tomorrow."

"Oh." Her annoyance made way for recognition, and then returned. "But what do you think you're doing here, then?"

"I'm killing him. Tonight."

Lily groaned. "You can't be serious."

"I'm absolutely serious."

"I know you don't want him to have Fitz, and neither do I, but if you barge into this recklessly you're just going to get everyone --"

"It's not reckless! I have a plan, you know that. I've been working on it for months now. I have the entire vampire hunters' guild."

"That won't be enough," said Lily, shrinking in on herself.

"It will be. He's not invincible, Lil, no matter how much he likes to convince us he is. Even he can't ensorcel thirty humans at once, and a silver knife through his heart will end him the same as any fledgling. It only takes one."

"So is that what you came here for? To help you kill him?"

"No. I need you to keep Fitz safe while I do my work."

Lily glanced at Fitz, then back to Lex, with fear in her eyes. "If I do that, he'll know I knew what you were going to do."

"He won't, because I'll end him first."

"But --"

"This isn't just for Fitz, you know," he said, taking her shoulders. "This is to protect you too. I don't want you to have to live in fear of his tortures any more. You wouldn't have to cut out your tongue, or burn yourself, or let him carve upon your back, not ever again. I know I've failed before, but I can do this. I won't fail this time."

There were tears in the corners of Lily's eyes as she looked up at Lex. She spent a long time considering, then -- "Fine."

"You'll keep Fitz here?"

"I will. And I'll hope to hell that you succeed, because if you don't, you know we're all in for it."

"I know. Thank you, Lily. This means a lot to me." He pulled her up into a hug, which clearly caught her off guard her before she returned it.

As Lex let go of Lily, he took a small wad of bills from his pocket and pressed them into Fitz's hands. "Listen, Fitz. If I'm not back by sunrise, I want you to go. Take this money and go as far as you can, as fast as you can, before the next sunset. If you do that, he may not be able to find you easily."

Fitz stared down at the money, surprised that Lex would even consider an escape route. "But then how will you find me?"

"If I win, I'll find you eventually. If I lose… you won't want me to find you," he said. "It's only a precaution. Tomorrow night, we'll celebrate any way you like. And I'll take you anywhere you've always wanted to go. Where would you like to go first?"

"Well… I've always wanted to visit the Far East someday."

"Then that's what we'll do." He embraced Fitz tightly. "I love you, Fitz. No matter what happens, don't ever forget that I love you."

Fitz's breath caught. Lex had never said it outright like that. And all Fitz wanted to do was deny it, deflect it, laugh it off. Because he'd never known love as anything but a way to control people. Lex valued Fitz's blood, and the way he was able to make Lex laugh, but…

He simply couldn't make a deflection the last thing he might ever say to Lex. So instead he said, "I love you too."

And Lex kissed him fiercely, backing him up against a wall and almost knocking over a shelf of ceramics in the process. Fitz was helpless against it, drinking it in.

Lex was gone.

"You're welcome to any of the spare rooms. I board thralls here all the time. Feel free to use the kitchen and the downstairs bath, too," said Lily. "I should be returning to my bath myself. Might as well be freshly washed for this."

"Might as well," said Fitz. Perhaps he would take a bath too. It wasn't as if he would be able to get his mind off of Lex and his mission for even a moment until Lex returned.

Lily turned to go back up the stairs, and Fitz couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger. She was the one who had put him here, after all. She was the one who had stolen his previous life away, a life that was probably going to run off the rails and end badly sooner or later, but still his own. "God damn you," he said before he could think better of it.

She laughed. "What have I done to deserve that? Introduced you to the love of your life?"

"Oh, not much, just the kidnapping and enthrallment and selling me to the highest bidder. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be in fear of becoming the plaything of some ancient vampire."

"And if it weren't for you believing you could win against me in a bet…" she said. "But still, damn me if you want. I'm already damned hundreds of times over. What's a little more?"

She walked back down the stairs and looked Fitz in the eye as though she were searching for something. Fitz couldn't help but flinch away, expecting her to cast one of her spells on him again, but instead she stepped back after a moment. "I think you can survive it, you know."

"Survive what?"

"My sire. If he takes you, don't even try to fight. Don't try to resist, don't defy him. Hold on to whatever piece of yourself you can, and sleep as much as you're able."

"That's the same advice as you gave me at the auction house."

"And it's still true. I should know. I survived him. You can too."

Fitz wasn't so sure about that. He could still remember the horror of Lily leaving the room to cut out her tongue at her sire's behest. Even if he did survive in some way, would he be like her and Lex, still beholden to the Maestro's every whim whenever he so pleased?

"You don't think Lex will succeed, do you?" he asked.

Lily's eyes dropped. "Well, you know, I don't ever get what I really want in life. Do you?"

"No."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Maybe everything will turn out fine.

Next week, Oliver visits a vampire speakeasy.

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@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

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@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

[planefood]

Autism and Isolation, discussing my experience and my characters

I think i've said here before that my robot characters represent my experience growing up disabled where I live. My characters being robots specifically were made to represent feelings of being made to feel less human in some way due to it. While all my characters in that story are on the spectrum and represent different parts of my experience, I used Mikey as the cover of this post because he represents a certain part of myself that makes me incredibly attached to him (there's a reason I say I like writing him so much, despite him not being the main protagonist). He's the part of me that understands I need help with things but is too afraid to ask leaving me in horrible positions, he's the part of me who screams in public when I feel trapped, he's the part of me that could probably never live by myself, he's the part of me who's scared and vulnerable. Among other things. But also he's the part of me who, like many of my peers, feels isolated in everyday spaces and autistic spaces alike due to peoples perceptions of what autism "should" be, these same people welcome fidget toys and stimming with open arms turn around and think its okay to call me the r slur or infantalise me or make fun of until I cry. But I only cry because I thought i'd be welcomed in those spaces with my autistic peers and I cry because I told my younger self it would get better and people would be nicer to us once we were an adult with like minded people. These same people who, despite being open and proud about supporting neurodiversity still think its okay to use the word autistic as an insult against me. I feel like while people appear so much more accepting of disabled people with these small gestures than I was when I was growing up, I still feel like an outsider in these spaces but this time it feels like I've hit a wall. Like a, "who will support me if the people who are meant to don't?" it leads to a lot of insecurity and self loathing, it makes me feel like I'm not autistic in the "right way" and there's just something wrong with me as a person. I wrote these into Mikey, which makes him seem like he has a 'thin skin' to people like Tandy. Mikey, in my story, is often left behind or teased by other characters in my story even the ones who are also on the spectrum. They also struggle with their own battles with facing ableism and self hatred due to it but don't realise the first step to tackling that is unpacking how they treat others around them. You'll never be able to love your true authentic autistic self if you throw ableist rhetoric at people around you. That includes saying shit like "I'm autistic and I don't act like that guy does whats their excuse" or "I'm not making fun of them because they're autistic they just act weird" I'm low support needs autistic, I've seen how people treat high support needs autistic people and its even more sickening, other low support needs autistic people like to pretend they don't exist or throw them under the bus to make themselves more appealing to ableists: "See autistic people don't actually act like that, support me because I can mask" or even trying to say autism isn't a disability. My characters and writing while being a representation of myself being disabled is also a scathing criticism of the cruelty I see in the world at large, the cruelty I see in other people in ND and disabled communities and the cruelty I see within myself. I get scared about my future with how people treat me, but when I have characters I can write these struggles into it makes it a little easier. I know there's people who love me for who I am and there's people out there who love you guys for who you are too.

[partmathpartmagic]

"Give me six months"

This is a chapter from a longer fic that you can find here. It's a letter from Astarion, written over the course of six months immediately following the defeat of the Absolute. The premise is that you two are taking some time apart after the main events of the game so he can figure his shit out a bit. I love his friendship ending because he's so happy and proud of himself, but I wish it were possible to have that and the romance as well, so this is me making that happen.

Darling,

It’s been 3 days since you saved the world. I can hear you objecting to my phrasing, so let me rephrase: it’s been 3 days since I saved the world and you were also there. Better, my dear?

This is very irksome, you know. I thought I’d make it more than 3 days without being so desperate to talk to you that I write a bunch of sentimental words down for all the world to see. And even worse, it would’ve been far less than 3 days if I’d been able to find any parchment in this godsforsaken city (we could have just let it burn, darling, no one would blame us!).

Frankly, I’m rather upset with you. Yes, I’m actually making up my mind right now. You don’t deserve a letter from me, you’re too lovely and too brilliant and too beautiful and you make it impossible to live without you.

I’ve decided to help out the spawn in the underdark. There. That’s all you’re getting from me.

______________

Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I apologize.

That’s something I’m working on doing more of, apologizing. I am getting quite a lot of practice, spending every day with people I seduced for… I’d rather not write his name, actually. But you know. People I seduced in order for him to turn and torture and starve and imprison them for a century or two.

As such, I am becoming an expert at apologizing for things no one could ever really apologize for.

If I was in a better mood I’d make a joke about how I’m spending time with thousands of my exes and you should be jealous. You’ll just have to imagine how hilarious it would be, and then pretend it’s not funny even though you’re smiling, and then roll your eyes at me like you always do. I even miss your exasperation. That’s… horrible. This is horrible.

I know it was my idea to go off and figure things out on my own but I’m beginning to suspect I’m the stupidest elf to ever live.

I can’t tell anymore if I’m being funny when I talk or if I’m just being mean. Is that how other people feel about me, that I’m mean? I think it probably is. Maybe I don’t want to be mean. That doesn’t sound right. I think I’m okay with being mean, I just want to be doing it on purpose.

You’re always so kind, but you have your meaner moments, don’t you? Gods, you’re so terrible with children. The things I’ve seen you say to them. They all think you’re dreadful. That’s something at least.

You see, I find it easier to bear your absence if I pretend your presence isn’t the best feeling in the world and everything you do isn’t perfect. I’m never able to pretend for very long, but I get a good couple minutes each day where I convince myself I’m scandalized by how you talk to children and not completely enchanted by it, and I miss you just slightly less.

_______________

It has been one month since we saved the world. I miss the sun almost as much as I miss you.

My siblings have actually made quite a bit of progress with the spawn. They’re talking about starting a school for the younger ones. It’s very strange. I hope they don’t become good people or we’ll have nothing to talk about anymore.

I had a chat with Sebastian this afternoon, which was also strange. He said, “it must be difficult seeing our faces day and night. Torturing yourself isn’t going to change anything for us. You’ve apologized; you might as well go figure out your next move.”

I think he’s just sick of seeing me and wants me to leave, but he found a kind way to say it.

But he’s not wrong to assume I have no plan after this. I might head above ground tonight and explore the city a bit, see if anything inspires me. I haven’t breathed spore-free air in what feels like years.

I think I could be okay with not having the sun if I had you. Having neither seems… unfair.

I suppose I deserve a bit of unfair.

_______________

2 months. Some very strange things have happened.

Firstly, I did take that walk. I very purposely avoided the part of the city where I heard you had settled, and then of course wound up walking right past a house that apparently belongs to your sister. I thought she was you for a moment and my heart stopped. Metaphorically, anyway.

I don’t love how much it destroyed me looking through a window and seeing someone I thought was you holding a child and kissing a spouse. Which is to say that it completely destroyed me even as it made me happy seeing you apparently happy.

I’m adding this experience to my list of reasons why forming attachments with other people is actually a bad idea and never worth it. I also have a list of reasons why attachments are good and worth it every time, which has only ever consisted of one item, which is your name. The good list wins every time, a fact which has also made its way to the bad list. No one person should have that much power!

If I’m not allowed to ascend, you’re not allowed to make me love you. It’s just as bad. You're drunk with power, darling, and it's time someone called you out on it.

Gods, you’ve completely distracted me from my point. Anyway, after I finally remembered that 2 months would not have been long enough for you to grow and birth and raise a toddler, and after I looked into the window once more and realized your sister does not actually look much like you at all, and also after I looked at the mailbox and saw your second name with a different first name, I pieced things together. Not quickly enough to keep your family from noticing the crazed vampire staring in their window, I’m sorry to say. Do give them my regards.

But after that, I ran into someone I recognized from the palace. One of the butlers, I think, or a general thrall. He was so excited to see me that he stopped me in the middle of the street and started calling me “Master” and babbling about having the carpets cleaned, so I said “strange man, what the hells are you talking about??” And he told me I was the most senior spawn still living and as such… have inherited the estate.

Now, I know this is difficult to believe given my refined manners and, well, my hair, but I’ve never actually owned a palace before. Much less one where I was trapped and tortured for a couple centuries. It’s a complicated situation. Everything is still very much in the air, but I wanted to tell you, and this is how I tell you things now. I will update you once I have an update.

_______________

I adopted a cat. I ran into Halsin on one of his supply runs into the city and he had His Majesty from Last Light with him. Apparently His Majesty had been picking fights with children (and more power to him, I’m sure you’d say), and I remembered his regal little face and volunteered to take him in without a second thought.

We are still… feeling each other out. But I gave him his own room in the estate, which I think he appreciated. The cat, I mean. Halsin doesn’t get a room.

I also do not have a room in the estate, as I am unwilling to set foot inside the building until it has been completely gutted and cleaned and the dungeons walled off permanently. Strangely enough, our old friend Barcus sent me a great team of his people to handle the renovations. Demolitions, as you can imagine, have been smooth, if a bit too enthusiastic. The gnomes have also been very nice about the whole vampire thing and willing to work nights whenever I need to be there to make decisions.

On a related note, I’ve added another item to the long list of crimes Cazador committed: laying carpeting over completely gorgeous vintage wood flooring! Murder and torture is bad, but that’s a whole other level. Thank the gods we got that criminal off the streets.

(Did you notice I wrote his name out? And then made a little joke? I think I’m rather proud of myself for that)

For the first time I’m glad we’re spending this time apart, because truly all I can talk about is tiles and paint samples and upholstery and you’d probably stake me within a couple days of being in my presence and it would be absolutely justified.

I ache for you.

_______________

3 months.

I have been thinking about my lists. I think, perhaps, it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, making them the sole positive attachment in your life.

I say this because I’ve been spending time with His Majesty to help him acclimate, and a gnome worker commented the other day that I’m the only living creature this cat will tolerate. It made me so sad, thinking of this lovely, affectionate cat who is only ever lovely and affectionate with me. Everyone else’s experience with him will always be negative. I’ll be the only one who’s sad when he dies, and people won’t even be sympathetic to me because they’ll think, well, he wasn’t very nice anyway, good riddance.

It seems like we at least owe it to our loved ones not to leave them alone with their grief when we die.

And no, my love, I did not see the parallels to any vampire with which we are acquainted, at least not until Halsin came by to check on him on his way out of town and I gave him this whole monologue. And then he just sort of stood there looking at me until he very gently hinted that perhaps there are other people who would be willing to love the cat “if he’d just show them his belly instead of his claws.”

At that point I just thought he was hitting on me, but after he explained a little further I finally got what he was trying to say.

Which is how I ended up wine drunk with Halsin last night. We have… a surprising amount of things in common. It was disconcerting.

He also offered me some sort of mysterious substance from his pipe which I politely declined, and it was only after this that he told me a friend of his had smoked it just the night before and it had sent them into a panic attack. So if Halsin ever offers you his pipe, darling, just say no. Given your already nervous constitution, and I say this with love, you’d be absolutely fucked.

Speaking of drunk! You may be wondering how I’ve been keeping myself fed. Some of the Sharess employees have picked up on the increased demand from all these newly-free vampires and have started offering blood drinking as a service, but I’m hesitant to drink from another humanoid. My siblings think I’m being a stick in the mud, but I’ve heard them talking about people they’ve tasted and none of them sound anywhere close to the experience of drinking from you. I feel as if I’ve only ever tasted the most exquisitely aged brandy and I’m being offered tiefling wine as a replacement. I just think it would break my heart.

That said, non-vermin animals have offered a surprising range of flavors. I’ve found I’m partial to owlbears. Something about the risk makes them taste better, I think. Sort of earthy and vegetal? Not bad. In the alcohol metaphor this would be something akin to a local brew. Still a downgrade, but different enough that it doesn’t sting as much.

My good list has 3 names now, by the way: you, Halsin (this was a wine decision, but I’m allowing it for now), and His Majesty.

_______________

4 months? I think?

Listen darling, I’ll just get this out of the way: I’ve had many glasses of brandy. What’s that you say? How many is many? I stopped counting at six, my dear!

You know sometimes I think, absence is absence makes the heart grow fonder. And then I think of you, my blossom, my peach, my absolute tadpole (workshopping that one but i like it), and I think, well fuck. Maybe I’m making it up, maybe she’s not as wonderful as I remember?

And so I thik of all your worst qualities, and I concentrate so hard on them, and my love, my petal, my sweet corn, do you know what happens then? I can’t even think of any

OH wait, that’s not true. That thing when you talk and you have a bubble in your throat that you haven’t swallowed and your voice comes out weird and it makes me want to set myself on fire

Also you’re so hard on yourself, it drives me up an absolute wall. I just want to grab your shoulders and shake you and yell “be nice to my girlfriend”

And then grab other things and shake them…?

I’m far too drunk to be seductive, but just imagine me saying some absolutely filthy things in your ear right now in that voice you like. YOU KNOW THE ONE. Gods, I can’t wait to use it on you again.

I just waaaaant. I want you here so bad all the time.

I want your smell and your touch and your skin and your everything everywhere on me and around me

And… in me? Cheeky, darling. I’m not saying no, but now’s hardly the time

Love and like and cherish and worship and want, a.

_______________

No one has ever felt this ill before and no one ever will again.

I refuse on principle to take back anything I wrote last night, but let’s all agree to forget the corn thing, shall we?

And that cheeky bit at the end–really very unbecoming of you to take advantage of an incapacitated elf like that. Again, I’m not saying no, just. The timing really makes me think less of you, love.

_______________

To be honest, darling, I’m running out of things to say. Six months is a month away and I’m trying so hard not to just watch the clock all day (well, all night).

Has this time been worth it? Nothing is worth this, but if I put aside the heartache, it’s been amazing. I truly never thought I’d be able to become… whoever it is I’ve become.

When the tadpole happened, I saw hope for the first time. I thought I’d finally have control over my life if I had control over the tadpole. If I had control over everything. I honestly never saw another way.

It’s a testament to you that you saw all of this coming from the beginning. You looked at me, this open wound oozing hurt and fear and anger, and you saw a person. You thought I was funny (admit it) and clever, and worth getting to know.

You gave me the space to say no to you, and loved me regardless.

I don’t think I’m nearly as powerful without you, darling. But over these months I’ve accomplished things I’m proud of all on my own, which is fairly unprecedented.

I’m beside myself with excitement to see you again, to give you a tour of this place. You’ll like what I did in the bedroom. And that’s not even a line, I genuinely think you’ll appreciate the color palette! It reminds me of you.

And maybe if you like it we can engage in some mutual appreciation, if you know what I mean.

I don't, but maybe you do. My pickup lines have gone all to shit without you, my muse.

My good list has several names on it now. Yours is still at the top. But you're not the sole thing keeping me afloat anymore. I thought that would make me feel distant from you in some way. I never realized it would give me even more space to appreciate you for who you are instead of what you provide.

Knowing I don’t need you gives me more room to want you, I think.

Anyway, I’m not sure I have another one of these installments in me. Thank you for reading this far, if you have. The version of you who is sitting at your kitchen table reading this (that’s a guess but wouldn’t it be funny if it was right?) has been my companion for all these months, and I cherish her as I cherish every other version of you.

A.

_______________

Sending this today.

I want to be clear, I don’t expect anything. I didn’t ask you to wait around pining for me for all this time, and I wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.

So if you’ve moved on, if you’re happier where you are, if getting this letter ruins your day–it’s alright. I will miss you, maybe forever, but I have friends and a new line of work and a handsome son (to be clear I’m referring to His Majesty, I didn’t give birth since the last time I wrote). All of these things will keep me afloat.

However, if your heart and your life still have room for me, and if you think I would improve them with my presence, I will be overjoyed to share all of these things with you.

I want to meet your sister and hear you try to make conversation with her toddler. I want to show you everything I’ve done to update the estate, and I want you to make it feel like home just by being there. I want to hear all of your thoughts on Jaheira and Nine-Fingers and speculate on their love life.

I want it all, and I want it all with you.

See you soon, my love.

[dougielovelove]

THE STALKER

(998 words)

WARNINGS: Stalker!Soap, obsessive and toxic behavior, NSFW (at the end), Male reader, my writing. (let me know if I have to put more warnings)

(Something about it didn't leave me all that satisfied😒 but I liked it tho)

Beep Beep

You wake up in your room, as always, to the sound of your alarm clock. Your lazy eyes slowly scan the room, and, as you expected... It happened again. The window is half open, even though you were sure it was closed last night. It's a weird thing that's been happening a lot over the last few months, but you just let it go. Your memory has never been that good, and you forget some things quickly… and it's not like this is the strangest thing happening in your life right now.

Every time you go to do your laundry, you realize that another pair of underwear is missing. You don't have that many, so it's easy to notice when one disappears. And there's also another strange thing going on. Every time you go out, you feel watched. You always have the feeling that someone is watching you, but you don't know where.

But it all started to really scare you when you came home after a stressful day at work, and saw a photo of you, sleeping, thrown across your welcome mat.

Terrified, you decided to do the most sensible thing to do.

You call the only person you trust in this world.

You call Soap your best friend. Your ONLY friend. He's in the military, so he should know what to do.

It doesn't take long for him to arrive. You show him the photo, and he is as surprised as you are. You tell him about the things that have happened recently, and, with each piece of information, his eyes widen in surprise and concern. You're at your limit, and he can see that. Seeking comfort, you hug your good friend, snuggling into his arms as he rubs your back and whispers sweet nothings, telling you that everything is going to be okay, and that he will be there for you. Oh, if you could just see the little smile on his face.

After that day, more and more photos started to appear, and you became more and more scared. But you started to panic even more when you found a photo of you taking a shower. You tell Soap that you're going to take this to the police, but he changes your mind. ‘They are slow' he says. ‘Until they start investigating, something worse could happen’ he says. ‘Leave it to me’ he says.

And then, Soap offers to put Cameras in your entire house. Outside, in the bedrooms, in the living room, in the backyard, in the garage. You feel much safer this way, knowing that your best friend is taking care of you. But, oh, if you only knew about the hidden camera he put in your bathroom…

You also decided to give Soap a spare key to your house... just in case.

Jackpot.

-

Soap's plan is coming to fruition. After so many years, engineering everything precisely. He knew you very well, before he even exchanged a word with you. When you met him at a club, he seemed so friendly, and you had a lot in common. You both liked the same things, went to the same places. It was a very quick connection. But there was something much darker about it. He saw you one day in a coffee shop, and when he saw you, something in his fucked up brain clicked. You needed to be his. All his. He spent the next few months researching EVERYTHING about you. You were quite liked, you had a lot of friends and even a nice boyfriend. It would be difficult to come into your life, and he didn't want to get his hands dirty... I mean, he could carry out a massacre and still get away with it, but he didn't want to do that... that was plan B.

Instead, he went the plan A route, which turned out very well. He pretended to be a former friend of yours, and spread lies about you - with false evidence. This plan worked so well that in less than a month, your friends stopped talking to you, and your boyfriend dumped you.

Oh, poor you, without friends and boyfriend... you were so sad... Well, cycles begin and end! Why not go to this new club that just opened?

-

Soap feels like a child going to a park. He happily fits the spare key you gave him into the lock of your house, and with two turns and a click, the door opens. He patiently follows the familiar path to your room. It's not like he hasn't been there hundreds of times, but now he doesn't have to worry about not making noise. He opens the door to your room, and feels his heart leap with joy.

It's still 7:30 pm, and you're still at work… He has time for a quickie. He happily lays down on your perfectly made bed and takes your pillow, bringing it to his nose and drowning in your sweet scent. He lies down on top of your pillow, and quickly undoes his belt and opens his pants, releasing his rock hard cock from its confines. He starts to hump into your pillow, the smell of your perfume invading his brain, leaving him disoriented in pleasure. His cock rubs against your pillow, and he can't help but imagine you, there, in the place of the pillow, while he squeezes you really tight.

Soap is in paradise. His plan finally worked, and the next step will be to have you as his boyfriend, but that will be easy, after all: he's already come this far.

Soap moans your name, his eyes closed with vivid images of you. He feels closer and closer to his orgasm.

But, oh, it's a shame that you managed to leave work early today.

And it's even more of a shame that he didn't hear you arrive, and it's also a shame that he didn't notice you, at the bedroom door watching the scene.

[faux-ee]

Fyodor’s Ability: Body Possession and The Possessed

Note: If you don’t want to read the looong premise just jump to the paragraph where I started with “the core idea,” I have it bolded and underlined.

Hi bsd fandom how are you…I don’t think anyone would remember me but I used to be one of the craziest fyolai enjoyers on this site. My irl life has honestly been a mess for the past years (and it still is ngl), but recently I went back to reading bsd and I’m so satisfied with Fyodor’s ability, I have to write something about it.

I’m not THAT obsessed with fyolai now; my current and perhaps forever obsession is the ship of Stavrogin x Pyotr (stavrovensky) from Dostoevsky’s novel, The Possessed (I have never been the same after this ship...I’ll elaborate on how incredible and messed up it is if anyone is curious about that), and with my tradition of studying fyolai alongside stavrovensky, even back when I was still mostly a bsd fan and understood very little about the latter, I was REALLY happy with how Fyodor’s ability has turned out, with all the implications of Possession.  

Let’s first establish that Asagiri totally has knowledge of The Possessed. He not only quoted it but also kinda borrowed the whole “group of five spreading evil and destroying the world” idea from it, and perhaps even modeled some scenes after the book’s 2014 TV adaptation. Goncharov, who pours tea for Fyodor and wants to feel “all is well,” can be seen as a parody of Kirillov and his speech in The Possessed, a character that happens to be an architect (remember Goncharov’s ability?).

Kirillov is also discussed in length by Camus — having adapted the book into a play — who wrote The Stranger and created Meursault. BSD became explicitly a metafiction after Gogol’s appearance, and The Possessed is a chronicle of events provided by an unreliable narrator, who seems weirdly omniscent, and the story also quickly tumbles into turmoil after certain characters’ sudden appearance. One scholar argues that the narrator is only making up a story and trying to make what happens seem logical, while it really is not. Gogol’s pretending to be a government official/one of the police, gunning Atsushi in a tunnel, and making the Agency take his blame for terrorism also echoes strongly the events in The Possessed. I won’t spoil you further though. 

The core idea of Dostoevsky’s The Possessed, or in some translations The Devils, or Demons, is that people who cannot think for themselves are often easily possessed by ideas planted into their heads — then driven to madness and self-destruction by what they think they have thought up themselves. Hell if that doesn’t sound familiar; that’s all Fyodor’s been doing to others, and it’s what he basically said in Chapter 42. 

("being led by the nose" also appears in the book, it's one of it's crackiest jokes, but i'm not sure if it's just a matter of translation in bsd.)

Asagiri said he got the idea of Crime and Punishment being doubles from Ivan Karamazov, who truly is just a less stable/powerful version of Stavrogin in terms of intellect, the incarnation of the Devil — of Lucifer, in some Dostoevsky scholars’ words — the mysterious, beautiful protagonist of The Possessed shrouded by too many secrets, none of which gives a clue about his true character and purpose. (irl Dostoy said he “tore him [Stavrogin] out of my heart”; you can say he’s the author's special blorbo LOL). 

His name literally means “cross (stav)” + “horn (rog)”, showing the heaven-hell conflict within his character. Stavrogin sometimes sees a demon double of himself, too; like BSD Fyodor, he made peace with it (the paragraphs describing this is cut from some versions of the book). 

And like Fyodor, Stavrogin represents something “more evil than evil”: the void; but a void that could mess up people’s minds by “understanding” them, giving them answers for what they should be after, thus tricking them into abandoning their lives for this one pursuit, one impossible ideal. He used these ideas which he himself didn’t believe in to possess people, in every meaning of that word, and this possession comes with the process of enter into. People are no longer themselves, but — in many Dostoevsky scholars’ opinion — doubles of Stavrogin, shells of themselves that carry the pieces of this one nihilistic demon. 

Characters affected the most by Stavrogin in The Possessed let these toxic ideas enter their heads, because they are trying to get rid of unbelief and skepticism about god — kill their inner demons/defend themselves against Satan’s call. You could say they stepped right into Stavrogin’s twisted experiment just as they were trying to kill the heaven-hell ambivalence within themselves; kill “Stavrogin”. 

Tl;dr When people are trying to kill Fyodor, they are possessed by him and become doubles of him, but not complete replicas; they retain their personality in some way, but only through their own fixations that get integrated into Fyodor, the demon. It’s like black is the mixture of all colors, and chaos is a cacophony of all sounds. When they die, Fyodor exits the body with a darker, heavier, emptier soul, and enters into the next victim, who tried fruitlessly to defeat him. 

(In The Possessed, it is said that people who are possessed by ideas are basically consumed by them; their personal views on life are replaced by unreasonable fixations of the mind, which they devote their hearts wholly into. Nicolas Berdyaev connected this kind of fixation to the search for freedom and to attain godhood in his book Dostoevsky. This is a horrifying observation of the human psyche by irl Dostoy but it also reminds me of how Fyodor has described the singularity.) 

There are other startling similarities between Fyodor and Stavrogin that I didn't mention. Please go read the book, it is in no way a daunting classic - it is supposed to be dark comedy; and if you can't stand old people drama, start from Volume 2, you might just experience the DoA arc all over...

P.P.S, It has been pointed out how fyolai interactions and their mannerisms mirror scenes and characters in The Possessed (2014). these two ships of crazy russian terrorists differ significantly while being similar on the surface (grumpy x sunshine, the religious/philosophical discussion on evil, soulmates, kill your darling etc.) but this is not the point of this post so I’ll leave it for now.

[greetingfromthedead]

Die with You (Vash x GN!Reader)

Plot: Vash wakes up from a nightmare about the world ending, comforted by your presence in his arms, but little does he know then that his world would end soon enough. Series: None Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader Rating: Teen + Tags: No use of "Y/N", Established Relationship, Slight Fluff, Hurt / Comfort /More Hurt, Angst, Character Death, Cuddling, Crying, Nightmares, Loss, Grief, works with every very version of Vash. Word count: 0.8k

Vash strokes gently over your hair, his large hand cupping the back of your head as he inches closer, to nuzzle his nose into the messy strands. His nostrils are filled with the familiar scent that puts his heart at ease and brings him back into reality. The pounding in his chest slows down just as you stir from your sleep.

"Vash?" Your sleepy voice pipes up, muffled by his body and the blanket draped over both of you.

"Sorry, my love, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep." He speaks softly, his tight embrace keeping you close. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the warmth and security of his love surrounding you.

"Why are you awake? Did you have a nightmare again?" you ask, concern evident in your voice.

"Maybe. Don't worry," Vash speaks through the darkness of the little room. His eyes are closed, picturing your smile in his mind.

"Tell me," you whisper, and let your fingers trace along his back. He relaxes under your touch.

"I…" Vash hesitates but continues anyway: "I had a dream that the world was ending. The sky was painted crimson like spilled blood as it fell down in fiery waves. I watched heavens collide before me. I watched the chaos unfold with a heavy heart, feeling powerless against the impending destruction. I was so scared. Scared I wouldn't see you again as the world crumbled around me."

"Oh, Vash," you sigh and hug him, pressing your face into his chest where you can hear the beating of his tender heart.

"And I still think about that horror. What if the world dies with the ruby sunrise?" His quiet and hoarse voice cracks as he falls silent.

"Then we will die in each other's arms, and I will be happy to spend my last moments looking into your blue eyes, knowing that I am loved until the very end," you respond, your hand creeping to his cheek to tenderly caress it. "And that is all I could ever ask for."

"Wouldn't you want more time?" Vash asks, his breath moving a few stray hairs on your forehead, leaving behind a tickling sensation.

"Tomorrow or a hundred years from now, it doesn't matter. I will be immortal as long as you live; I will always die with you. And that is enough."

Vash curls up on the bed, clinging on to the bedsheets he forbids anyone else to touch. It still smells of you. The faint fragrance of your hair lingers on the pillowcase and the white cotton under his body. The familiar scent puts his heart at ease and allows him to dream of a reality less cruel than this one. A world where you are still by his side.

He has stayed here longer than he had planned. Longer than he should. Yet he cannot bring himself to leave, not when he can still feel your presence lingering in every corner of this run down little hotel room. Not when he can still hear your laughter echoing through the empty walls. Not as long as he can pretend that you are still in his arms if he shuts his eyes tight enough.

It wasn't a blood red sunrise that brought Vash's world to an end. It was the simple silence that followed the gunshot that took your life. It was an accident; there was no malice, no revenge, or anger to poison the wound in your chest. It was a kid who played with a loaded gun. Vash didn't sense the danger, didn't suspect that his life was about to shatter. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sky came crashing down on the crimson backdrop of your pooling blood as you looked into his eyes. Your tender gaze will haunt him for the rest of his days. A slight smile lingered on your lips as Vash held you in his arms. The ragged sound of your last breath will be etched in his memory forever.

Another sob escapes Vash's body as he curls up further, muffled by the tear-soaked pillow. He remembers the butterflies in his stomach so vividly, the way they came to life the first time he met you. How they continued to flutter every moment he spent with you. Now they are a heavy weight in his guts, a dead mass of lead bugs. The love he carries for you in his heart has nowhere left to go, making it feel like it's slowly suffocating him from the inside out. He knows what you meant when you said you will die with him no matter what. He carries the memories, the affection, and a heart that beats for you. But a part of him died with you and is now buried in the desert sand with your bones. A part that can never be replaced.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[daytaker]

Only Human

Solomon thinks he deserves a little more credit.

Ship: Solomon x Reader (One-Sided) Word Count: 823 NightBringer Timeline Cross-Posted on AO3

Welcome home! What did you get up to today?

Ah… Uh-huh…

…What a headache.

Brothers, brothers, brothers. It’s always all about the brothers for you. It’s a little unfair, you know. Who’s there to protect you when things with “the brothers” go south? Hm? That’s right. But you just keep on charging after them as if they’re all that matters in the world. Never mind that I’m the one who literally followed you back in time. Never mind that I’m the only one who knows everything about your situation. Never mind that I’m the only one here who doesn’t have any agenda besides getting you home.

…Fair point. I suppose saying I don’t have any agenda isn’t completely honest. But who would I be if I didn’t sprinkle in some friendly, misleading comments with a big smile on my face?

I’ve become very attached to you. I’m not ashamed of that, and I’ve never tried to hide it. You’re a very charming person, and it’s only natural that if angels and demons are susceptible to that charm, I would be too. I’m only human, after all.

But please don’t forget this: you’re only a human too.

Allow me to reassure you that I’ll never become so resentful that I’d leave you behind. You’re far too precious for me to pull a stunt like that, and you’re far too unpredictable for me to even pretend I’d do it. For all I know, the minute I turn my back, you’ll somehow find yourself contractually obligated to serve as Vizier to the Acting Demon Lord for the next seven centuries, or be married to three or four of the brothers all at once. No, that isn’t how things work in the Devildom, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if you somehow pulled it off by sheer force of will.

Why don’t you just calm down and settle down with me instead?

Of course, I don’t suppose I plan on ever settling down. It would be awfully hypocritical of me to hold you to a different standard just because I felt a little jealous.

Yes, I feel jealous. You know I’m not ashamed of my feelings. That’s something I learned to get past after my first century or two of life. Being ashamed over your own feelings is a good way to make yourself miserable.

So I’ve come up with a great way to make myself less jealous and make you less attached to these past versions of the brothers. Are you ready to hear it? Why are you making that face? It’s a great idea, trust me!

We should become lovers.

What’s that look? You’re going to hurt my feelings. Anyway, there are plenty of practical reasons to follow this course of action; reasons that have no basis in emotion at all. For one thing, my reputation precedes me, so you would benefit from the respect and fear that attach themselves to my name. It’s also possible that strengthening our bond might make it easier for you to follow my trail of energy back into the future. And on a more immediate, practical note, it would cut down on heating expenses if we shared a bed.

Haha! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You should have seen your face. And I thought Lucifer could be scary!

It seems like I haven’t convinced you yet. You’re awfully stubborn, you know? But I like that about you. I like almost everything about you.

Everything except that irritating fascination you have with those seven.

I guess I haven’t been too open about how I felt about that in the past (or in the future?). But I may as well lay my cards out on the table now. I would love to know how it feels to have you look at me the way you look at them. Maybe if you just had that sort of connection with just one of them, I could accept it, but it’s an entire family! It shouldn’t be that hard to squeeze an eighth person into the fold. But sometimes it feels like you barely spare me a second glance. Me! The greatest sorcerer to ever live; a human so enigmatic that angels and demons and reapers can barely understand me. 

Do you have a thing for demons in particular? Is it the tails? I suppose I’ll always come up short where tails are concerned. Dare I ask why you find tails so appealing? Surely it isn't...?

Hahaha! Oh, man, that face was even scarier than the last one!

It doesn’t really matter, I guess. Adore whoever you want to adore; I’ll always be the one who taught you magic. And no one can take that away from me. Not even you, my adorable apprentice.

Just so we’re on the same page, was that a ‘no’ to becoming lovers?

What about sharing a bed?

Sigh… You’re as cold as ice sometimes. I love that about you.

[seyaryminamoto]

Do you have any particular thoughts on Netflix Avatar Season 1? I haven't watched it myself but I would be curious to hear what you have to say.

I do indeed! I didn't watch it right away, but I have watched it indeed. I think there are merits to certain changes they did, I can see the sense in many of them, that doesn't mean EVERYTHING they changed was good, but it does feel like they were engaging with the original content in a far more creative way than a lot of people are willing to acknowledge or try themselves. No, it isn't a perfect remake of ATLA, but being the critic that I have been of the original show, nobody could ever convince me that the original was perfect, just as this new show isn't perfect.

I want to make a big post on the subject one day and try to get to everything it brought up... once I have more time on my hands, I'll try to do that. But, to give you a bit to chew on... I'll try to do one good vs. one bad on my part, of whatever I can remember right now.

GOOD: I actually do not mind the multiple prologues in the first episode, even though I don't think the changes were handled perfectly. I do believe that showing the genocide is not nearly as bad a choice as a lot of people pretend it is (the way it was portrayed is questionable mostly from a tactical point of view but that's just me being a freak about that... studying basic warfare really fucks up your suspension of disbelief when it comes to war scenes). Mainly, I think it IS important to show it due to the amount of people who are still convinced that Aang didn't suffer nearly as much as most other popular characters did -- that soooo many people have made these claims without a care in the world throughout the twenty years since ATLA first aired proves that the genocide was not treated with the severity it should have been by the OG show. I'm not even sorry to say it. It doesn't feel like a trivialization of violence, it feels like actually setting straight the degree of violence a genocide entails. People asking for a less intense version of genocide basically appear to be asking for the actual gravity of such events to be sanitized so they can chew on them more easily... and that's exactly what leads to it being trivialized, minimized and not taken seriously, if you ask me.

BAD: I don't particularly like the way Fire Lords are so... casual with commoners. Both Ozai and Sozin stood on the same level as a rebel/spy right before setting them on fire, no doubt it's meant to be some sort of flex, but... men of their ideologies and pride would not want to be up close and personal with anyone they consider that far beneath them. Odd choice there, imo.

MOSTLY GOOD: Aang does feel way more serious and has much more dramatic gravitas in everything he does. And this is not a bad choice, in essence. I don't particularly love that they tried to lessen it with occasional "Aang's a silly kid!" verbal reminders that don't actually have any proper visual evidence, because most the silly things he's up for are things the two older kids (Sokka and Katara) are perfectly fine with doing too, hence, he doesn't feel childish at all and it comes off out of place for him to talk about being more childish than he actually is. So... they really didn't need dialogue to try to emphasize his childhood if they weren't going to write him being a goofball. It's fine if he isn't one. He always could be a more serious character, it's only a problem when there's no further substance to him than just brooding (which is what I remember from the Shyamalan movie...).

WEIRD: Aang and Katara both had weird scenes of standing around doing nothing but smiling at their hometowns in episode 1. Maybe it was done as a parallel between them, but it felt a bit... overly theatric? If that makes sense? Like... I know we need to see their daily lives and the context in which they've lived... but it doesn't feel entirely logical for that to happen with them just standing in place and smiling fondly at their world. Most people do not do that in their daily lives...?

GOOD: ... Contrary to what a lot of the fandom seems to think, I actually like the suuuuuper slowburn Kataang here because any potential romantic payoff those two might get isn't nearly as in-your-face as it was in canon. The way their friendship is growing feels far more organic. And some of my favorite character moments in the show were actually between them. Which is not something I'd EVER say about the original show. There's a different sense of maturity for the characters here, and I like that.

BAD: I... do not like Sokka's changes. No, it's not about the sexism. It makes sense to me that this aspect of his character would be changed, updated in a sense: you can even still read him as sexist in some regards! It just isn't as simplistic and straightforward as it was before. But that's... not what bugs me the most. The show genuinely surprised me by taking him far more seriously as a character than I anticipated they would, but they absolutely picked weird choices with him in stuff like his family issues (... the Hakoda changes are just straight-up cringe for me, there's no justification for making him some sort of bitchy soccer mom who congratulates his son but then shits on him behind his back??), his insecurities as a warrior and the frequent remarks about how maybe that's not his path in life even though he does just fine at it, and... his romantic relationships. It's wild, because I actually think they did Sukka a thousand times better than it is in canon, and yet in doing so, they absolutely deadlocked themselves into a whole other problem: Sokka bonding that much with Suki and then hitting on a random Fire Nation soldier like two episodes later?? Then having the romance of his lifetime with Yue by the end of the season?? Ngl, it feels like we're watching one of those sitcoms where characters switch love interests in the blink of an eye. Changing this element of his character this way, when Suki's romance in particular was given new qualities and way more substance... may not have been a great call since it makes him come off insanely shallow, ready to get with any girl he comes across, and frankly, he didn't feel like that in the original show to me. He's also not really funny when he's supposed to be? Part of what made Sokka funny originally was his role as a voice of reason while everyone else ignored him. They occasionally tried to mimic that here... but in ways that didn't really work? Also, the Ron-Weasley-In-HP-Movies brand of comedy of "watch this guy scream, it's soooo funny" is... so trite at this point. Please, don't. Personally, this really feels like a whole other character who isn't Sokka. And some people might think that's great... I'm not one of them. Maybe I'm just experiencing the crisis a lot of people are over Katara with Sokka? But where changes with her do seem to go for things I actually wasn't fond of in her character, I don't really feel like they did better with Sokka in the least.

GOOD: ... "Katara learned waterbending too fast", they say: she did in canon too. A month of training under Pakku is not nearly enough time to justify her being deemed a master in canon. Complaining about how she didn't get that training at all here and still got deemed a master gets a "meh" out of me because I frankly do not see it being remotely as different from what canon did as people want to think it is. Katara was fighting Pakku with way too much power in the OG show for a kid who never got formal training to begin with, and somehow nobody minds that. I don't think someone who was on that level of power in the OG show was nearly as inferior to a seasoned master as a bunch of people want to believe. So... outrage about how they sped up her learning process when we in fact see a LOT more internal growth for Katara, and a lot more depth to her bending source here, makes no sense to me.

Along with that: bending has always been connected with a bender's internal energy, which is related to their peace of mind and internal balance. This show did not invent that. Firebenders are the ones who are most explicitly shown to be connected to their feelings that way, sure, but if you needed ATLA or LOK to non-stop feature characters talking about how a person's chakras had to be cleansed and their hearts clear and their every spiritual thread cleaned up in order to reach their best possible shapes as benders? You probably have bigger problems in analyzing this show than just whining over whatever the liveaction did. A straightforward connection for Katara with her emotions and bending isn't a negative choice in the slightest to me, more so with a character who has constantly been characterized as deeply connected to her emotions: it makes sense that her bending works and evolves the way it does in the liveaction to me. Sorry not sorry.

BAD: Zhao. Uh... I've seen people say they like him here? I felt like I was watching a con artist. It's not the actor's fault, clearly he was given this concept to work with and he did the best he could with it, but the idea of removing Zhao from all prior connection to the Royal Family, making him a total unknown who came out of nowhere and rises to prominence through conniving and scheming feels like they decided to merge him with Long Feng, maybe? And it might even backfire if they DO have Long Feng next season (... they should???) and he has a very similar profile to what they did with Zhao. I didn't enjoy his characterization at all, he was just... weird. So, not a change I was big on.

GOOD: Iroh. My god. I hate the fact that I'm saying this. But I will say it was insanely cathartic to watch that EK soldier beating him up. And that's not all: Iroh actually seems to be struggling actively with right and wrong here, showing hesitation over the war, and most importantly... HAVING A PERSONAL DYNAMIC WITH AANG??!!! I never imagined I would be that happy to see that, but I was. The few moments those two had together were damn solid, some of the best in the show (and the best for Iroh, sorry not sorry, I have never ever been an Iroh-Zuko obsessive fan and I genuinely find myself more intrigued by Iroh's potential bonding with other people, never thought about it with Aang but this show 100% blindsided me with it in a good way). It seriously made me mad that the OG basically never gave them that chance besides... that one scene in the catacombs that was very much just Iroh being a fortune cookie? Aang actually being an element that basically waters the seeds of doubt in Iroh's head is a GREAT change. I said it and I'll stand by it.

BAD: Hahn and not because of the usual reasons: their characterization rework of Hahn was fine. More than fine. The actor they cast was also very pretty! All of which makes it EXTREMELY questionable that Yue somehow has this perfectly decent guy and... uh... chooses the reworked Sokka instead? Like, I know that's how the OG story went, but when you turn Hahn from an opportunistic dick to a perfectly admirable warrior and individual, and feature Yue saying he's great but he's "not the boy of her dreams" (you... dreamt about him ONE TIME?? He's never been in the Spirit World besides that, so wuuuut...??), it makes her choice in romantic interests feel extremely questionable and weird. I'm all for Yue being given more to work with, but this seriously feels like she's... a little crazy. Hahn comes off waaaaaaay too decent for her not to be interested in him... ofc, as long as she's someone attracted to men, which, considering she picked ANOTHER GUY, it's to be assumed that she is?? Ergo nothing makes sense to me. Come to think of it, a lesbian Yue rejecting Hahn is probably the only way her rejection of Hahn would make sense... and it would also not cast such a questionable light on reworked Sokka if he and Yue weren't romantic at all, right after he had that big connection with Suki back when the show began?? So, heh, maybe lesbian Yue is the only thing that would've made sense if Hahn gets reworked for the better like this, sorry not sorry....

GOOD: The full-blown, outright display of Ozai's abuse on Azula rather than subtleties and insinuations. Again, much like in Aang's case with the genocide: PEOPLE DENY AZULA WAS A VICTIM OF ABUSE ALL THE TIME. People pretend Ozai actually loved her on some weird level or that she FELT loved, ergo she was fine and Zuko's the one who was abused. This is not new. We've been dealing with people barking that kind of nonsense since almost twenty years ago. And the backlash from that exact crowd when this show made it evident proves that they refuse to accept Azula as a victim of abuse to this day. Ergo, sorry not sorry: I'm glad they handled it as they did here because it makes it undeniable that Ozai is pushing Azula to extremes and she's pressured to deliver and become the weapon he wants her to be.

BAD: ... the Mother of Faces. That may have been the most egregious offensive and bullshit moments in the entire show. I was so mad when she was brought up at all. It was awful. I hated it. It really must be my most hated moment in the whole thing. UGH.

GOOD: Katara apologized to Sokka once. You know. One time. That, I think, marks the single time in any official Avatar content where she has done that. Call me a salty asshole, but I'm genuinely impressed that they did that, so they get a point for it.

BAD: Bumi. I know some people think the rework for Bumi is great... I could not disagree more. His treatment of Aang is really unacceptable, his behavior is very irresponsible but this time in a vindictive way... I was even reasoning with the fact that he knows Aang is the Avatar, which ALSO happens in the OG, without having known it in the past! The difference? It feels too arbitrary and random that he'd know that here, whereas in the OG show, he IS random and arbitrary, yet somewhere amid so many nonsensical ramblings, he shows insight and intelligence that makes you think there's more to him than meets the eye. I may need to rewatch episode 5 of the OG show in order to confirm this, but I also think that most of the implications there regarding his challenges is that they were actually harmless even if it doesn't look that way all along. Here? They're not harmless at all, he's basically vindictively trying to get Aang to either die for his "sins" or get himself killed through him and neither thing sits well with me at all with this character.

GOOD: Gyatso, expanding on his character and making him a much more straightforward equivalent to Iroh for Aang actually is really helpful, it makes him less of a "stock character" victim to the Fire Nation, it gave him more depth and it makes Aang's bond with him feel much more real. I am very sorry to all OG apologists, but I continue to believe Aang's cheerful behavior was written primarily to appeal to the children demographic that Nickelodeon was aiming for as their audience, which meant he could not be particularly human and truly grieve for everything he had lost. This show doesn't hide that pain at all, and it's particularly good that it does that by showing what a constant presence Gyatso was in Aang's life and by letting them have a manner of final farewell in that episode (... even if I didn't particularly like the episode, but still, it wasn't a bad idea to do that).

BAD: ... call me a consistency freak if you will, but I did not spend all these years obsessively trying to make sense out of the wobbly worldbuilding of the Avatarverse to be told that the entrance to the Cave of Two Lovers is within Omashu and that it leads into the arena within Bumi's Palace. Sorry. I can't accept that. I can't. I legit laughed throughout that whole situation because that's not where the cave of two lovers was, the badgermoles would be causing earthquakes non-stop through the city, and the sewers system would not even work because they'd constantly get fucked up by the creatures (as we know, there's a scene in Book 2 of the kids climbing out of the sewers, so either they won't do the pentapox or they'll forget about the badgermoles conveniently by then...). So. No. Sorry but no. Also, why did they kill Oma??? I know they turned both lovers into women, but... precisely because they did that, why exactly was there any need to change which one died?? Either one you kill is a woman now anyway so... what's the difference? WHY the difference?? Odd.

GOOD: ... Zuko keeps a notebook on his research and investigations into the Avatar. There were many changes to his character but that's the one that stood out the most to me. He actually seems a little bit more methodical, if not smarter, but you know? Kinda smarter anyway for at LEAST thinking that keeping a book with the results of his investigations could help?? Feels like he's actually trying rather than just whining about how rude the world is and how hard he has it. Which, in the end, might ALSO come down to him actually having some hope that Ozai didn't hate him irremediably... which, too, is a good change. I've talked about it before, other people have too: a firstborn firebending male prince has no business being discarded because of incompetence unless he's just THAT pathetic, and even in canon, Zuko wasn't as bad as to justify pushing him out and treating him as shittily as Ozai did without an actual, THOROUGH, exploration of Ozai's motives. You can elaborate, but the show never really did it, and if anything, it offered a bunch of conflictive information about why Zuko thought his father liked him. Here, it makes more sense that he thinks Ozai isn't as much of a bitch as he really is: the Agni Kai is a lot more interesting because they merged both Zuko vs. Zhao and Zuko vs. Ozai into one. The fact that Ozai actually burns Zuko and defeats him BECAUSE he was punishing him for not taking advantage of an enemy's weakness? It's a million times more telling about Zuko's character than what we saw in canon, where he was down to fight an old man out of hybris and then shat himself as soon as his father stepped up instead. So... I don't like this Zuko, which tells you they're doing him right anyway x'DDDD but I find there are a few elements about him that make him at LEAST a little more respectable than he was in the OG show. Among them? He's not constantly ranting about honor but actually lashing out at dishonorable choices out of principle, which makes it sound like he has a WAY better grasp on that concept than he does in canon :'D sue me. This is a Zuko rework too, and fortunately, not ONLY geared towards sanitizing him (even though there IS a fair amount of sanitizing too... which annoys me, but what else could we expect in the era of political correction).

BAD: ... Why the fuck did they decide the way to fix Iroh harassing June was to make her horny for him? Please? Of all things??? All they had to do was just... not make any romantic/sexual implications there. At all. Was that so hard to achieve? This is probably the second worst thing for me in the entire show, ngl. I do not understand the need for it at all. Most of all when they CLEARLY changed it due to knowing Iroh absolutely was a bastard in the OG with his behavior towards her. Isn't it easier to just NOT put any implications of attraction in there? I mean, I should be happy June didn't fully harass Iroh but the way they presented it, it felt like he wasn't even comfortable with it either! This... is not the way you take revenge for a character sexually harassing another one. Bad, bad take, I don't know what made them do this but they absolutely did not "fix" this, they overcorrected it and made it gross as fuck to me anyhow, most of all with the context of knowing that Iroh was the one being inappropriate as fuck back in the OG.

ALRIGHT. I know there's bound to be more, and I probably could think of more soon but I think I'm giving you this for now or else I'll end up making my major post here x'D

All in all, I don't think this show is unwatchable, I absolutely understand people who think it was fun, I also understand people who couldn't get used to the changes and outright dropped it. What I can't understand/accept is either pretending this show is the greatest thing ever (much like I don't think the OG ATLA is...), or pretending that it's the worst one either. This show engaged with a lot of elements in different ways than the original did: not all of it was a miss, not all of it was a hit. And I feel like it's a matter of fundamental, human decency and respect not to go completely berserk taking a ten-ton dump on this show, which to this date is the biggest production in Hollywood with a primarily Asian cast and crew of all time, from what I know, by pretending it has destroyed this franchise completely and that any support for it must come from brainwashed idiots or "not true fans". The gate-keepy attitude comes as absolutely no surprise in this fandom, ofc, but it's still disgusting to see. You CAN be critical of this show with dignity. You CAN do it while respecting other people who enjoyed it completely. It's not too much to ask. I may have learned that lesson the hard way with the ATLA comics, but even then, it wasn't my M.O. to jump into every single comics-positive post to tell people why they sucked and how dumb they were for enjoying them.

That's what I've got for the time being :'D hope it's enough for now.

[tiny-sassy-aggressive]

I am living blogging my reaction to the second watch through of WDAPTEO 4 bc the first run through was so much

00:00- I screamed when I saw the notif. I was alone in the car. Just pulled up to my apt looked at my phone and screamed “ no way “ I still can’t believe we got it

00:01- hi, they are SO BEAUTIFUL I’m squealing. I cannot stop staring it’s embarassing

00:27 what’s going on here? “Nothing” my heart. The smiles

00:50 oh I am LOVING the feature wall. And fish tank reveal project??

01:00 how dare they throw THAT japhan photo up there like it’s just some example. Who the hell do they think they are- also I want that doomed hoodie :( he is snug as a bug in a rug

01:50 terror not even 2 minute in and crack

02:03 I’m sorry Dan asking Phil about TikTok stuff is precious

02:13(What is cba)

02:39 I CACKLED. Phil’s sarcastic ass omg

02:44 dans little pat

02:58 phivorce

03:05 I know the ft, they are friends of course. But seeing the messages really warms my heart. Like it’s so normal why am I emotional

03:52 of course Phil sends millions of memes

04:10 how in the fuck did Phil catch his phone what??? Ft dans face during the whole interaction.

Ad time —— 04:25. Im sorry Dan looks fucking amazing, his hair is so curled and pretty? And he looks so comfy cozy and soft??? My Dannie side is really coming out rn

04:59 handsome devil, damn straight. Love this man he’s too precious for this world

05:23 🍑

05:55 are the Brits okay??? Bone daddies?? I’m too American for this

06:30 perfectly encapsulated Dan and Phil energy

06:35 Dan saying dude scratches a weird itch in my brain

06:55 again! Totally normal to call a friend in a taxi. But this moment makes them so real in my mind like yes. Call that friend. In that taxi. Make it less awkward. Why did I like this moment so much

07:05 A PRETEND CONVO OF COURSE HE WOULD. He’s so real for that

07:34 “these are very dan and Phil”

07:42 I’m in pain. Koala content and ouch I can’t even put into words

08:44 three days without a text sounds exaggerated. Or lie. Like cmon. All those messages and convos and yall went 3 days without a word?? Sounds fake

08:58 asking what he should do for his nails!!? Again totally normal but UGH I love their friendship

09:01 also Phil coming in with a STELLAR idea, hope to see it happen

09:11 Phil’s a little shit OMG he hated the nails Dan got.

09:38: dans precious little selfies

09:44 also who tf is that that does not look like Dan

09:52 wtf do you mean that they had the same weird Swedish bakery???? 10 years apart???? WHAT THE HELL??????

10:35 fuckin nerds ft cute ft selfie

10:52 Dan in Phil’s glasses hi what the fuck? Precious. Phil loves to take photos of Dan sleeping.

11:02 jump. Scare.

11:28 PHIL CALLED HIS MOM. NURSE LESTER.

12:11 Dan stalking the ring doorbell is not something I expected?

12:20 glad to know Phil and I share that we can’t hear someone saw our name bc it’s too intimate

13:16 ordering a roast dinner is so cute idk why

13:35 jump. Scare.

14:26 I hate them :( i so long for what they have

15:04 they didn’t see death note the musical!! Haters!!!!

15:20 HOT

16:00 Phil papping Dan>>>>>>

16:20 I rewatched this part so many times. Thsi entire sequence. This whole. Dare i say SCENE. Disgustingly familiar. Disgustingly cute. I- karaoke game???? What??? It was for them

17:06 omatone :(

18:22 hot? Worrying? Hmm???

18:45 Phil is so dramatic I love him

19:01 genre to dinner? I don’t get them

19:10 DAAAAAN AHHHHH

19:20 SCRIPTS AH???????3@2/9/@/9@22929 more writer Dan

20:17 this is so familiar

20:50 this has “would you still love me if I was a worm” energy? Can’t explain

22:53 “we dan and phil-ed it” we have to steal that! Asap’

23:24 when Dan sits up he is soooo much taller than Phil but he constantly slumps down and looks up to Phil. It’s very cute to watch.

24:30 oh they are fully embracing the joint channel and slowly moving away from gaming and honestly. I’m alright with it. They look so happy

Guys this was too much. So I just started reading fanfic and these conversations were right out of what I’ve been reading which is very odd tbh? But we were fed. This was amazing content and I can’t wait to see what the writers do with this. Cheers

[apieceofmi]

STRANGERS

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: Two strangers on a train.

__________________________________________________________

I hate weekends in my hometown. I hate the person that I’m there and how everybody already has an opinion formed about who I am, there's no possibility of change when I'm in that place. But it's family… And we are supposed to visit family, right?

Sometimes I think the weight in my chest when I left isn't worth it. 

I'm already on the train coming back to where I live now, but I still can't take my mind out of that place. Flashbacks of moments that I lived in the past three days keep coming for every word that I read in the book that I’m trying to finish. Everything that I can think about is: how can people that I love so much can be so mean? 

Silly girl, she doesn't do anything right.

Did she win a prize? Well, but that one doesn't matter.

She's feeling too much, seeing things where they do not exist.

Silly girl, you are never gonna be enough.

“What are you reading?” A throaty voice takes me out of my thoughts. My eyes flew to the man sitting opposite of me, something on his face tells me that the question was unexpected for him too.

“Uh?” I ask, even if I understand what he says, maybe giving him a chance to just pretend that nothing happened. But now all the unexpected things are gone in his posture, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“You already stopped three times now, so I'm guessing that it's embarrassing or really bad that you can't even continue?” he speculates. “Just got me curious about what you're reading.”

I chuckle, shaking my head.

“A romance. A good one, but…” I sighed, looking down at my e-reader. “I'm just not in the mood, I think.”

When I look back at him and our gaze connects, it's like something changes in the air. His dark brown eyes studied me and I feel my heart racing. I don't know what, but something is happening here. Some detail on his face gives me the impression that I've already known him. Dark brown hair, pale skin covered with tattoos, he's obviously beautiful, but… These eyes tickle my heart. It's almost too comfortable. It just feels… right.

Jesus Christ, am I going crazy?

I'm not the kind of person who talks with anyone, I'm the opposite of an extrovert actually, but I don't want - don't even think that I can - ignore his presence and pretend that nothing happened. So I make words come out of my mouth, transforming any chance that I see in him into a subject.

“What are you listening to?” I ask, noticing that he's wearing earbuds.

“Nothing. I put this on so people don’t talk to me.” He grins. “You should try this next time.”

My eyebrows rise and a teasing smile forms on my lips. 

“Right, so strangers on a train don't start conversations with me.”

“Yes, people are so inconvenient these days.” He mocked. “Like, it's the first time that I take this train but If I knew it was so well attended, I would take it more often. Even though I'm just passing around this area… But you don't want to know about this”

“No.” I laugh, biting my lip. “Actually, it's the first time that this train is well attended, if you randomly want to know.”

He adjusted in his seat, crossing his arms with a pleasing look on his face. 

“So, you take this very often?” His question is a snap of the fingers, reminding me of where I am and why I'm on this train one more time. My smile slowly fades. “Yes. More than I want.” 

He's quick, changing the subject and dragging me to talk about things that I normally don't talk about with strangers. The time flies and I wish I could stop the world from spinning just for a little more of this moment.

Two hours later, when we arrive, all I can think about is: how can a person that I met less than a day make me feel better than someone that I had known my entire life?

The conversation slowly fades while we arrange the baggage that we have with us so we can leave. I stand, thinking how to say goodbye. 

“Hey” he shouts and I look at him. “Can you tell me your name?”

I force a smile, feeling my whole world crashing inside when all my insecurities involve me in a tight embrace that I have no choice or escape. I like the way he looks at me and I don't want to ruin that image. Sometimes - every day - I have this feeling that I’m invisible. Everybody passes through me and doesn't notice, too ordinary to stain a life. If he gets to know me, whatever we create here, it's going to vanish. The voice is back whispering in my ear. “You have the personality of a door, nobody remembers you.”

A memory worth more than a disappointment? 

A mystery certainly does.

“You're a good trip partner, stranger” I said, then left.

Stupid girl, you should have said your name. 

Three months have passed since that day, I've already taken this train more times than I should. Every single time I remember him, hoping that the universe gives me one more chance.

I keep looking at the door, he never comes back.

__________________________________________________________

Author’s note: I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, english isn't my first language. I hope you like it. xx

Part two

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Getou

[Chapter 5] Phone Call

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader x Suguru Getou

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Phone Sex, Masturbation

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Maybe your husband will finally take a hint, you think. Taking at least five minutes from his day to spend with you, but you end up finding that your very smart husband is more dense than you thought. Or maybe he’s just not all that interested in spending time with his hot lonely wife.

You entertain yourself one way or another. Like today, after going on a shopping spree, you went to get your nails done, grabbed some lunch, watched a movie, and finally got dinner. Your days mainly consist of wasting Suguru’s money. Spending his money was what really drew you into him in the beginning, but now, spending his money isn’t all that interesting to you when you’re alone most of the time. You so desperately wish that the man you love would take the initiative to spend so much as five minutes with you. 

It’s near midnight, and you’re laying alone in bed. He has been home late all this week, but for some reason, tonight of all nights is when you can’t sleep. The thought of him and his secretary bug your mind. Suguru promised to give you the world, yet he’s probably balls deep inside another woman and the thought makes you sick. 

The thought makes you grab your phone and call him. You hear the phone ring over and over again. Your heartbeat picks up speed with each ring, and it certainly doesn’t slow down when you’re sent to voicemail. You think about leaving a message, but you decide to hang up. You put your phone down as you think of the worst.

Your husband is probably cheating on you and pretending to work late hours. And here you are, his trophy wife, laying on your shared bed like a fool. You grab your phone again, and you’re so close to sending your husband a message, but you decide to do something else. Something worse.

You look for Satoru’s contact and when you find it, you hesitate. You begin to call the number, and unlike your husband, after two rings, he picks up the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey, Satoru… I have a question…” You begin. Out of all people, Satoru should know the most about Suguru’s schedule– Other than Suguru’s own secretary, but you’re certain that he’s fucking her. Satoru was the one who gave you the suspicion of your husband’s betrayal, so he must know something. Satoru hums in response, waiting for you to ask the question. “Is Suguru actually busy? He isn’t home right now…”

When Satoru hears the question, a smirk comes to his lips. He tries to hide it from the woman that sits across from him in the living room. He stands up, covering the microphone of the phone as he says, “I’ll be right back. Suguru’s on the phone.”

Satoru walks to his bedroom and closes the door, locking it. “Hmm… He’s working late? I’m not. We’re not that busy this time of the year. You should know.”

“Well…” You begin. He hears the lack of confidence in your voice.

“Last year he was way less busier, wasn’t he?” Satoru brings up, which you don’t recall. “Don’t you remember?”

“Well… To be honest, I think he was really busy this time of the year last year.” You share. 

“This time of the year isn’t all that busy. Last year I was on vacation. I really do think… I don’t want to straight up accuse him, but he might be having an affair. He should be home by now.” Satoru tells you, and your breath gets caught up in your chest. “I don’t want to accuse your husband of doing such a horrible thing but– You know he’s my best friend.”

“Yeah…” He hears. He bites his bottom lip as he hears you say, “It’s really unfair. I’ve given up so much for him…”

“I get that, baby. I know you have.” He tells you, although he knows that you didn’t have to give up anything. Not a single thing. You married Suguru out of luck. His parents adore you. He paid off your student loans. Suguru would buy anything you asked for, even the moon and every star in the night sky. “He just… Gets bored. He’ll come back around.”

“It’s so unfair, Satoru.” You tell him, and he hums in agreement. 

“But what else can you do?” He responds. A moment of silence happens before he speaks again. “Unless you want to give him a taste of his own medicine…”

“What do you mean by that?” You question, and it makes him bite his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything, you say, “You want me to cheat on him?”

“Well, he’s not giving you the attention you deserve, is he?” He asks. Maybe it’s not the best time for him to be asking about this. But at the same time, you’re vulnerable, and it’s late. Not a great time for him, but at the same time the best. “You have such a high libido, I’m sure he hasn’t kept up with it.”

“He… Hasn’t.” You confess. One hand goes to his pants, and he unbuttons them before he pulls them down. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore. I have to take care of myself.”

“You want me to take care of you, sweet girl? I’ll help you like old times.” He proposes, and for a minute, the line is quiet. Too many thoughts run through his head while he waits for your response, but none of them worry him. Because you’ll never bring this exchange up to Suguru, he knows it.

“Right now?” You question and he hums in response. You stare at the ceiling of your room while you decide what you want to do. You end up pulling up your nightgown, your hand going into your panties. 

“Well… Are you horny right now?” He asks, and you bite your bottom. Your fingers are running through your folds. 

“I am…” You answer. Your fingers go to your clit and you begin to circle it slowly, hearing his breathing from the other side of the phone. You imagine his hand wrapped around his cock as he thinks of you. 

“Then will you touch yourself while talking to me?” He says, your fingers playing with your clit. You shut your eyes as you hear his voice, imagining that he’s your husband. But he’s not your husband, and when you remember it, you find yourself more aroused. “Will you play with your pretty little pussy for me?”

“I will, ‘Toru.” You respond, your voice sounding so sweet for him. “Only if you play with yourself as well.”

“I’ll play with myself for you, baby.” He responds, his hand wrapping around his cock. He squeezes the tip, before his hand begins to move up and down his length. “Are you looking sexy, baby? Are you naked right now? Playing with yourself at the thought of me?”

“Fuck… Yeah. I need you on top of me– Playing with my clit at the thought of you, baby.” You tell him. 

“Really? I’m playing with myself thinking about you under me… Whimpering my name like the pathetic little thing you are.” He says. He lets out a whimper before he bites down his bottom lip. He can’t let the woman outside his room hear him like this. “Will you slip a finger in, baby? Will you do it for me?”

“Yeah…” You answer. You slip a finger into your cunt, letting out a soft moan to let him know that you did it. You add another finger in for your pleasure. “I put two fingers in for you…”

“Really? Oh, what a good girl.” His breathy voice sounds like music to your ears. It’s nothing like your husband’s but it reminds you of him. “God, I would do anything to watch you right now.”

“Me too-” You respond before you get an idea. You stop playing with yourself, grabbing one of your husband’s pillows and making your phone stand with it. You call him through a video call, and Satoru quickly picks it up.

“Oh, what a naughty girl.” He comments, watching as you spread your legs and you push your panties to the side to let him see as you play with yourself. Two fingers in your cunt, your soft lips apart to let your breathy moans into the air. “What a naughty fucking girl. How does your husband choose that ugly secretary over you?”

You watch him stroke his dick, being oddly quiet. Satoru isn’t loud per say, but he does make some noise. At least from your experience. Yet you don’t care too much. 

“I need you inside of me so bad.” You moan empty words to get the both of you off. “Oh, fuck–”

“I’ll come over soon and fuck the shit out of you. Check what your husband is missing out on.” Satoru says. You tilt your head back, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm approaches.

“Oh, Tor–” Just as you’re about to moan his name, the sound of your phone ringing stops you. You come to a stop to check. Your husband is calling. You quickly end the call with Satoru, leaving him dry. You feel your face get warm from embarrassment as you hear your husband’s voice. You can’t believe what you were doing with his best friend.

“Hey, baby… How’s work?”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @violetsaffron5 @uhremmi @13vicey @rumi-rants @somemydayy @lilith412426 @33yaeyaeeee @iam-mia9 @m00dycr4nkybitc @cloudsinthecosmos @armincasa @staromi @hopelhss @desireness @abba-simp @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @corndogwithwings @Konekobby @tojianddabisslut @yeagerfushiguro @mochikage @chanelmalandro @katykat71114 @ur-mums-side @manidobre @itadore-you @yehet-moi-ohorat @lovemarvel16 @hellva @greenlovers @bluupen @ma-icloggedthe-toilet