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cas-backwards-tie · 6 months

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Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Heiress of Gotham | Previous Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted! القرف = ‘shit’

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

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“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the other side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her on, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s standard in teenagedom as of currently,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim watches from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely, disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announced, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention returning to the monitor again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises, even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie… therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at her dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-“ Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exa-“ Bruce interrupts.

“Bruce-“ Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered, with one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background of the Manor’s security camera feeds linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” he demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally takes in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more flame to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

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“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-“ he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your files and footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-“ all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-“

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the-“ he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-“

“-business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

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Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll ha-‘

Splash!

A dissatisfied exclamation escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dam-“ looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“القرف! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You head Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

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As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial first time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

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“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too—“ Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond, not thinking about it too much. After all, you want this popcorn to be good, not a burned pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-“ Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-“ He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

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Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

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forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee ,@azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse , @huhhuhh , @maxinehufflepuffprincess

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foodsies4me · 2 months

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AWG but Alec has a warlock mark

Tagging @ariella9melody and @buglersholiday because you both asked for this prompt that ended up in Cat's POV because the majority of Alec's POV would have been a mixture of "don't speak to Magnus Bane", "don't speak of Magnus Bane" and "don't tell Catarina about Magnus Bane"

Catarina stares at the young teenager, barely more than a child, in front of her. She takes in the nervous way he’s clenching and unclenching his fingers, his eyes darting every so often to a smiling Magnus, who is discussing some last-minute details with Elder Musa.

The boy is clearly uncomfortable with Magnus being there and Catarina is still trying to figure out if that’s due to his parents or something else. She doesn't think it's the usual shadowhunter bigotry, though, which is a relief because she wouldn’t want him to fight to overcome self-hatred on top of everything he already has on his plate.

“So, Alec,” she says, “- are you fine with me calling you that? Or do you prefer something else?”

“Alec is fine,” he nods, eyes darting over to a slowly approaching Ragnor. “But - uh, I thought you were sending me back to the institute, so,” another look sent Magnus’ way and a sigh of relief when he leaves, “Why am I here?”

“I’ll make a portal for you,” Catarina reassures, trying not to scare the young teenager away or make him think they’re keeping him captive, “But you’re here so we can schedule a training regimen for you that wouldn’t interrupt your shadowhunter duties.”

Catarina tries to keep her voice even as she says this, trying to ignore the same impulse that had pushed several of the Elders to mention the word ‘kidnapping’ in more than a joking manner. Because it wasn’t enough for Alec to be in an immense amount of danger just by existing. No, the Lightwoods also had the fantastic idea of letting a thirteen-year-old patrol.

Alec furrows his eyebrows together, “Why?”

“To teach you how to control your magic,” Catarina says, confused by Alec’s sudden confusion. He had been the one to seek her out, after all, panic and fear were visible in every line of his body when he asked her for help because his glamour runes refused to work any longer.

Catarina had been confused at first, wariness and compassion in equal measure had put her on high alert, her magic scouring her surroundings for any other angelic signatures, which led to her only catching half of Alec’s explanation.

That confusion had faded the moment Alec had raised his shirt and twisted around to reveal white, opalescent scales that gathered into small diamond-like shapes along his spine. A warlock mark.

Catarina had been quick to contact Magnus and the other Elders despite the panicked request she keeps this between them. Something like a shadowhunter-born warlock, one that could bear runes unlike Tessa, was not something she would have been able to keep to herself. Not when that very fact put Alec into a world of danger.

Still, it had taken her nearly an hour to get Alec’s okay. The promise of blood oaths that would prevent her and the Elders from sharing the information with anyone else enough to finally convince him.

That's how they ended up in their current situation, though, Catarina is starting to realize there was some miscommunication somewhere down the line if Alec is asking her why she would help him train his magic.

“But you glamoured the…my back,” Alec says, eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “That’s all I needed.”

Catarina gentles her voice, “Untrained magic is dangerous magic,” she says, repeating the sentence her own teacher had installed into her at a young age.

Alec somehow looks even more confused.“But I don’t have magic,” he corrects, breaking his parade’s rest to scratch at a spot over his chest. “I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if I had.”

“Maybe it’s weaker because of your angelic blood,” Catarina muses, walking over to her couch and inviting him over. “But I can assure you, you do.”

Alec presses his lips together, “I don’t want to be a bother,” he says, sounding old and painfully young all at once. “You mentioned you’re a nurse and I don’t want to take up your free time to accommodate my schedule.”

There’s something infuriatingly adult in the way he speaks, a maturity that comes from being forced to grow up past your age. Then again, she thinks sardonically, being used like the Nephilim equivalent of canon fodder will do that to you.

Seriously, a thirteen-year-old patrolling. Most warlocks wouldn’t let their children or apprentices brew a harmless beginner's potion by themselves at that age.

“I’m sure we can figure out something that would work out for the both of us,” she says, conjuring a pen and a notepad that she holds out to him. “Now, what about you write down your schedule and I write mine down.”

Alec does as ordered and starts writing down his weekly schedule to her growing horror. Starting at half past five in the morning, Alec's days seem to stretch well until midnight on the nights that he isn't patrolling and that will just not stand.

"As a nurse, I'm obliged to tell you that the recommended amount of sleep for a child your age is eight to ten hours a day."

"I'm a shadowhunter, not a child," Alec says with an assertiveness that doesn't come from defensiveness, but from being told the same words over and over again. "And I think I'm finished."

Alec hands her the schedule and Catarina tries to read the different categories Alec has written down: training, trainees, paperwork, Max and Leo, archery practice, patrol, sparring with Jace, sword practice, studying, rune practice, and story time.

"Training and trainees?" she asks, wondering what the difference is between both categories.

"Training is for Jace, my parabatai, Izzy, my sister, and I. The trainees are what we call my little brother and his best friend, they just turned three and are learning their basic forms. I'm helping them."

Catarina nods to show she understands. She supposes she can't fault Alec for wanting to be a good brother and help his little brother with his training, even if the thought of a three-year-old needing to learn how to fight is horrifying to even think of.

"And Max and Leo?"

"The New York Institute isn't a kid institute, so Max and Leo don't really have anyone to play with or keep them busy."

Catarina nods again to avoid asking about the amount of 'Max' as well as 'Max and Leo' time as well as 'Trainee' time that has been penciled in. Instead, she summons a cup of hot chocolate for Alec to have something to distract herself and him with. Then, after he's taken a few sips, eyes brightening in delight - and oh, she wouldn't have taken him for a sweet tooth - she asks about the strangest entry.

"What about paperwork? Is that similar to the studying and rune practice?"

Alec shakes his head, slowly lowering his cup on the coffee table, "No, it's just - when mom and dad are away to other institutes or in Idriss, I have to do the paperwork," he says with a careless shrug.

Catarina looks down at the schedule, looks back at the young teenager on her couch, and back at the schedule. Then, she bites down the question that is burning on her tongue.

After all, the answer is staring at her in the shape of a frankly ridiculous schedule that Alec wrote down without a second thought.

This means the story time entry, the entry that takes place twice a day at the same time every single day, right around what would be the usual bedtime for a three-year-old, is exactly what the word entails.

Catarina didn't think her personal opinion on Maryse and Robert Lightwood could sink any lower.

"Your studies are they with a teacher?" She asks, looking at the few spots those take. She wouldn't be able to ask him to do the paperwork he shouldn't be doing over at her apartment, but maybe she can convince him to take his studying sessions here.

"Not anymore," Alec says, "I just get the study material and the homework I need to finish. Why?"

"Well, then I suggest we broaden your studies during those hours," she says, circling the study hours on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday the days she usually has off. "That okay with you?"

Alec is still looking at her with a confused expression as if unsure of what to expect from her. "If that's easiest for you," he says, hand coming to scratch that spot on his chest again, "But I can adapt. I just have to be there for Max when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep, but the rest I can switch around."

Catarina had an inkling he would say something like this.

"Don't worry, this would work out the best for both of us," she reassures, hiding the anger behind a kind smile and another cup of hot chocolate. Then, she gives Alec his promised portal with a promise to see him on Thursday and dials a number she knows as well as her own.

Magnus picks up on the first ring. "Chocolate or alcohol?"

"Both. As well as a plan on how to murder the Lightwoods if you'd please."

"That bad?"

Catarina thinks of patrolling at thirteen years old, thinks of the hellish schedule and the fact that Alec is apparently single-handedly raising his little brother, is semi-raising his two other siblings as well, and all that on top of not quite running the institute in his parents' absence. .

"Worse."

#foodsies writes #prompt #this got longer than expected #stares at plotbunny #repeat after me: THIS WILL NOT TURN INTO A FULL FLEDGED FIC #also I am cackling how Alec got a different teacher in every AWG universe #AWG is Magnus and sometimes Ragnor #GWSR is Ragnor and sometimes Cat #and this is Cat

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kheni-universe · 6 months

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Finding ways: Gojo Clan (Side Story) Part 1

Kyoto, Japan, November 1 at 8 p.m.

Pulling out her phone, she opens the contacts app and scrolls to find her husband's phone number.

The other line took a while to respond...

"Miss me already?" he asks from the other end of the line, and she can feel him grinning from wherever he is.

"In your dreams, 'toru," she smirked.

"Your mother called, she wants us to come to one of her friends party, a birthday party..." she goes on to say.

I believe you understand why she wants us to come... " she says, her tone tinged with boredom.

Before speaking, Satoru remained silent.

"When? " he inquires.

"Saturday, 12 p.m.... "

"All right, we'll come... "

"mhmm 'kay love ya"

"I love you too," he says before hanging up the phone.

⫷༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻⫸

Satoru knew his mother and the elders would constantly pressuring his wife to have a child for the clan, which is one of the reasons he chose to live in an apartment rather than the Gojo clan's main house.

Nov. 4, 8:34 a.m.

She felt a hand touch the underside of her breast as she opened her eyes.

She turns around and hits her husband's arm, only to be met with her husband's toned chest. She drew him closer to her by wrapping her arm around his waist.

"I'm going to kill you if you do that again," she says, her eyes still closed.

"So mean," he says, pouting as he slides his hand down on his wife's ass and gives it a light squeeze.

"Satoru!" she said solemnly as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck.

He gave her a quick laugh and planted a kiss on top of her head.

"Let's not go to the party, yeah?"

He stammers.

She dragged her hand through her raven hair and sat up, pulling herself away from him.

"Your mother's the one who invited us and your the head of the clan, so wether you like it or not were going. Its still part of your duties as the head." She says in a serious manner.

"Fine,fine,fine.Now quit nagging me early in the morning." he says, rolling his eyes and sitting up while putting his muscular arms around her waist and leaning in to plant a wet kiss on her neck. "I'd rather fuck you than deal with those people, you know? "He muttered.

She took hold of his chin and planted her tender lips on his, indulging in a passionate, passionate kiss.

"Let's get ready so we can go home early and then continue," she says, standing up and heading for the bathroom.

"That's a promise, right darling?"

He yelled loud enough for her to hear him.

"If you don't annoy me during the party, then yes," she replied.

𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘𖣘

Time skip: 11 a.m

Y/n is dressed in a blue kimono, her hair in a half ponytail decorated with an expensive hairpin given to her by her grandmother.

Satoru, on the other hand, wears a blue montsuki that matches her wife's, with black sunglasses hanging from his nose bridge.

Satoru looked down at her wife, a smile on his lips as he admired her. He took her hand in his, lacing his with hers as they entered the crowded room.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

#jjk imagines #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #delulu #fypage #tumblr fyp #im a simp #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #fanfic #Spotify

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jesusjizz · 2 years

Text

I Need You Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

A/N: Hiiii! This is the first writing I'm posting ever, so if you hate it, plz dont tell me. :-) This is not historically accurate in the slightest, but neither is the show so whatever. This is also not a show accurate Anthony, he is way less stuck up in this, but with the same charm. I have been searching for a slightly sub Anthony fic, but couldn’t find one anywhere, so I decided to make it! Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton is set on marrying this season, and the reader has no idea he has eyes for her.

Warnings: pillow princess Anthony, light sub/dom themes (dom!reader), and a healthy sprinkle of regency era foot fetish :-)

Word Count: 5,000+

_______________________________________________________________________

Hyde Park is bustling with people out for an afternoon promenade. Among the crowd, you spot your friend Daphne. The two of you have been friends for some time, since you lived across the street from the Bridgertons, and Daphne was only one year your elder. You were by her side all throughout last season, when she was named diamond, and she intends to do the same for you.

“Your Grace.” You greet her with a dramatic bow and suppressed laughter. She turns, her polite smile already making its way to her face before she realizes it's you.

“My diamond!” She says, equally as dramatic while pulling you in for a hug. “How have you been?”

You haven't seen her since she became a duchess ten months ago, but the two of you pick up right where you left off. “I should be asking you that!” you say dramatically, gasping when you see her swollen belly. “You are with child?” You ask excitedly.

“I am afraid pregnancy suits her well.” The Duke appears at her side, smiling brightly while placing a delicate hand on his wife's stomach. You greet the Duke in the same manner you did Daphne, only with more formality. He waves your manners away. “Please, there is no need for formalities. How have you been Y/N?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“Oh haven't you heard, Hastings? Miss Y/L/N is the season incomparable.” The comment was from none other than Anthony Bridgerton himself. There was a hint of something in his voice, but you could not quite place it.

Your relationship with the Viscount is confusing to say the least. He has always respected you as a self sufficient woman, able to stand your ground and go against societal norms, but he also loved to pick on you. He secretly loves the way you challenge him. No one else besides his family holds him accountable in the same way you do, and his enjoyment of it vexes him to no end. It is quite the same for you. You get a rush every time he admits defeat to you, which means most of your conversations end up in an argument, but neither of you truly dislike the other.

“Jealous, are you, Lord Bridgerton?” You ask him with feigned care. You have never been one for society, so much so that you held your debut off for as long as possible. You despise the way society oppresses women, but as an only child, you know it is your duty as a daughter to marry. You did not want to be this seasons diamond, in fact you almost cried when you were appointed, and not out of joy. But now you are, and you are forced to be okay with that.

Anthony’s face morphs into a sneer, but before he can respond, Daphne interjects.

“As much as I have missed your squabbles, I believe Y/N and I should head to the Modiste in preparation for tonight's ball.” You smile and give her a nod before linking arms and heading toward town.

The modiste is bustling with ladies of the ton, so you and Daphne take your time examining fabrics.

“I hear Anthony has decided to wed this season.” Daphne says, giving you a suspicious side glance. There is a stirring in your stomach, jealousy perhaps, but you push the feeling away.

You clear your throat before speaking, “Well, I pity the lady he should choose. She will have her hands full indeed.” Daphne laughs before giving you a look you do not quite understand. “What?” You ask. But before she can respond, you are being called away by Madame Delocoix. Daphne keeps a coy look on her face for the rest of your fitting, but says nothing more about the Viscount, much to your dismay.

_____________________________________________________________________

Lady Danbury’s ball is filled with elaborate fineries and beautiful guests. Your entrance was dramatic, thanks to Lady Danbury, who announced your arrival for all to hear. You were instantly bombarded with suitors claiming spaces on your dance card, much to your chagrin. Across the room, you could see a similar scene unfolding, but instead there is a hoard of ladies surrounding one eligible bachelor. You refuse to take your eyes off the scene, searching for the mystery bachelor to no avail, but you have a good idea of who is hidden among the fawning ladies.

Hours go by, and your feet are beginning to ache. A direct result of multiple dances with men who lack coordination. You retire to the refreshment table in hopes of finding solitude, but you are met with the one person you simply cannot relax around.

“Ah, Lady Y/N. Have you grown tired of getting your toes stepped on?” Anthony says in a condescending voice. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, aware of the eyes constantly on you as the seasons diamond.

“Lord Bridgerton.” You greet with a small curtsy. “I must admit, I have grown quite weary of dancing.” You decide against poking the bear tonight, since you are already much too exhausted and an argument would only exhaust you further. Anthony’s eyes bulge slightly at the honesty you give him, but he plays along. “I see. I must agree with you, I find dancing to be quite tiring.” He gives you a side glance to gauge your reaction, and his stomach flips when he sees your gaze focused solely on his.

“I suppose you were the cause of the hoard of eligible misses earlier?” You say, nudging his arm in mock approval. He shakes his head with a smile, “Unfortunately so.”

“I do hate these events.” You admit with a sigh. “They are dreadfully boring.”

“I agree. I have quite a few places I’d rather be at the moment.” He says with a smirk, eyeing you up and down. The gaze causes heat to pool between your legs, and you can feel your face reddening. You compose yourself quickly before responding.

“And what might those places be, hm?” You reply with an equally taunting smirk, causing Anthony to have a similar reaction as you. Your curiosity only grows, but as you look at him you can see your mother, Violet Bridgerton, and Daphne all looking in your direction with smiles on their faces. You certainly do not like that.

Before he can respond, Anthony’s attention is pulled elsewhere.

“Lord Lumley.” You hear Anthony greet the man approaching, forcing you to look away from the trio observing you.

“My Lord,” You give a light bow in Lumley’s direction.

“Miss Y/L/N, I am pleased to see you tonight. May I have your next dance?” He asks, bowing and offering his hand. You were getting ready to politely decline, but a voice beat you to it.

“I am afraid Miss Y/N is not available at the moment. I am to accompany her in the next dance.” Anthony states in a voice that leaves no room for disagreement. You can't help the urge you have to tell him off for speaking for you. You are entirely capable of using your own voice to make your own decisions, and besides, you don't even want to dance again. But before you can protest, Anthony offers you his arm.

You take it with a glare before moving towards the dance floor. You take a glance over your shoulder to see the trio of women smiling and whispering to one another, seemingly pleased you are taking to the floor with the Viscount.

The waltz begins, and the first few moments are met with silence between the two of you. “We have an audience.” You say in a hushed voice, motioning your head toward the two Bridgertons chatting with your mother in the corner. “They’ve been staring for quite some time.”

“Have they, now?” Anthony asks, a sense of pride bubbling in his chest.

“My Lord,” You ask, forcing Anthony to meet your eyes again. He does so with little hesitation, and a slight pleading look in his gaze that sends a shock through you. You love the way he responds so quickly to you. “You never answered my question.” You say, with a sly raise of your eyebrow.

Anthony gives you an approving look before speaking. “There are many places a man likes to enjoy his time.” He says, his voice dropping an octave as he leans closer to you.

“Pray tell, Lord Bridgerton.” You say in a voice barely above a whisper. Your faces are mere inches apart, and the tension is palpable.

“I’m afraid those establishments are no place for a lady, let alone the diamond of the season.” He says pointedly, his gaze never leaving yours. You lift your chin defiantly before responding.

“I see. Afraid I will cower like the prim and proper lady I’m meant to be?” You ask in an accusatory tone. If anyone knows the extent of your hatred for society's oppression of women, it is him, which is why his answer almost offends you.

“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.” Anthony says, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him. He dips his head toward your ear, whispering, “I believe you would enjoy them too much. They are called vices for a reason.”

A shiver of excitement runs down your spine, and you can only hope this is meant as an invitation to you. “A gaming hell?” you question quietly. Anthony’s approving smile is all the answer you need.

“Take me to one.” You blurt out. You cannot deny your curiosity, especially when it is something so forbidden. Your excitement outweighs any of the dangers you could foresee.

Anthony looks hesitant, but the stern look on your face mixed with the hopeful glimmer in your eyes leaves him with no other choice but to agree.

The dance comes to an end, but before the two of you part ways, Anthony pulls you close.

“Be ready at midnight and I will fetch you from your house. Wear something to hide your identity. Your reputation will not be ruined on my behalf.” You nod in understanding before making your way back to the refreshment table as if nothing ever happened.

_______________________________________________________________________

Midnight comes faster than you anticipated. You have been dressed for over an hour, but you still feel unprepared. You are wearing your best corset, which accentuates your bust line perfectly, as well as an elaborate mask and free flowing hair, in an attempt to make yourself as unrecognizable as possible. As exciting as this is, you still understand the severity of what could happen if someone recognizes you.

You hear hooves outside, followed by the slight tapping of rocks on your window. You can't help the laugh that bubbles from your chest before you open your window. Below you stands Anthony, dressed in the same thing he wore to the ball, only now his suit jacket is unbuttoned proudly showing off his sheer undershirt. Your heart skips a beat before saying, “Meet me at the servants door.” He nods with a smile on his face, taking off in the direction of your rendezvous point.

On your way out, you decide that you will not refuse yourself the pleasantries that gaming hells provide. Tonight is your one night of freedom, and you refuse to let it go to waste.

Anthony is waiting outside the servants door for you, just like you asked him to, and the sight causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You wonder how much control you have over him; how far could you go before he challenges you.

“I shall ride with you.” You tell him boldly, before he can make his way to your stables to fetch your horse.

He looks taken aback for a moment, before a slight tint rises to his cheeks. He nods and grabs your hand. “Of course, my lady.”

The title causes your skin to heat, and you beam with pride once you realize he did not challenge your request. He helps you onto his horse before mounting it himself, and takes off into the night.

_______________________________________________________________________

The room is crowded and loud, smoke hanging in the air as Anthony guides you to a small table in the corner. He ushers you into one side before sitting across from you and motioning to a waiter.

“Two brandy’s.” He commands. The waiter nods and scurries away, returning moments later with two glasses of dark liquid. You know of the spirit, due to your fathers love of alcohol, and can’t help the excitement swirling in you as Anthony hands you a glass.

His stare is burning into you as you raise the glass to your lips. You pause momentarily, and he raises an eyebrow. You smirk before downing the entire glass in a mere two swallows. Anthony tries as best he can to hide his shock, but fails miserably. You barely even wince at the burning feeling settling in your stomach, and he can’t help but find it undeniably attractive. Or maybe he just finds you attractive.

“Mmmm, I think I quite like that.” You say, making a show of slowly licking your lips. Anthony gives you a wanting look before downing his own beverage. In that moment, you realize something that slightly shocks you. You are flirting with him. And you're enjoying it.

“What are you doing to me?” Anthony says under his breath, shaking his head and repositioning his legs to suppress the bulge forming.

“What was that, My Lord?” You ask him, leaning forward and purposely pushing your chest out. Something has come over you tonight, a sort of power you have never felt before, and you don’t plan on letting it go to waste. The privacy of the booth Anthony chose for the both of you only fuels your behavior.

He clears his throat before responding in a wavering voice. “My Lady,” You hum in approval before he can continue, “I love it when you call me that.” Your voice is smooth and sultry, and Anthony has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to regain his composure.

You’ve let your guard down tonight, and Anthony decides it makes him like you even more. He decided a few days ago to begin courting you, and told his mother and Daphne. They were elated to hear the news, both quick to give him tips and tricks, but he did not need them. He knew the pair of you had an unorthodox relationship. He knows you like to be in control, and you are the only person he would give up control for; a perfect match in his eyes. He decided to bring you here tonight for purely selfish reasons, a way to see how far you would push the boundaries. Up until now, he had been unsure as to whether or not you were interested in him, but the second you accepted that invitation he knew you were, even if you hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

But now you have, and your eyes can’t seem to stray far from his form. He has no tie on, and the top buttons of his undershirt are undone. You're surprised it's taken you this long to realize you have affection for Anthony, but you suppose you have always been too focused on besting him. Your feet inch closer to his under the table, before you grow bold and run yours up the side of his leg.

“Has that brandy got to you already?” He asks, holding your gaze and searching your eyes for any hint of dishonesty.

“No, My Lord.” You reply breathily. “You have.” Once Anthony is certain you are being truthful, he grabs your hand and starts leading you toward a hallway.

You are pulled into a dimly lit room with a large bed and multiple sitting areas. You know what these rooms are used for, and the fact that you are in one right now sends waves of excitement through your entire body. Anthony has yet to let go of your hand, leading you to a seat. To your surprise, he is the one who sits in it, leaving you towering before him.

“Y/N, I must be truthful with you.” Anthony says sincerely. The honest tone of his voice gives you pause, and you kneel in front of him with a worried look.

“Anthony? What’s wrong?” you ask, fearing the worst. Your mind replays all the moments before this in which you may have caused him to dislike you. You are afraid you may be misreading this entire situation and making a fool of yourself. He takes a few long moments to answer, but never lets go of your hand.

“I am enamored with you.” He finally reveals, eyes meeting yours in the most vulnerable state you have ever seen him. “Ever since my mother told me you would be debuting this season, I have wished for nothing but to make you mine. It is why I decided to marry this season.”

His confession shocks you slightly, but it is soon replaced with joy and tenderness as he continues.

“Ever since we have been young, I have envisioned you as my wife. Before, I thought it was because you were the only girl I spent time with aside from my family, but as I grew older I noticed myself comparing every new woman in my life to you. You were- are, constantly on my mind, and I cannot keep it from you any longer.” His eyes are downcast, and his face looks almost pained. “I understand if you do not share my feelings, but I need you to know.” He finishes solemnly.

It takes you a moment to regain your composure. You reach your hand up to gently caress the side of his face, causing his eyes to meet yours in an instant.

“I feel great affection for you, Anthony.” The words are slow and methodical, and Anthony's eyes are glued to your mouth. “You are one of the only men who sees me as an equal. You empower me in ways no one has before, and I know I could not find a man better than you.”

Anthony grabs your hand that was resting on his cheek and tenderly kisses your palm. “Have me.” He says, his eyes burning into yours. “Have me tonight, and I will speak to your father about a proposal in the morning. I cannot be without you, My Lady.” He says the last words in a suggestive tone, knowing you enjoy that name, moving one of your thumbs to his mouth to lightly suck on it.

The action has you whimpering. Though you are unwed, you are aware of the marital act and what it entails. Your mother refused for you to be an unprepared wife, so she explained the act to you far before your debut, hoping it would help you be more prepared when selecting a husband. Curiosity got the best of you on many occasions, and you are well versed in pleasing yourself, so the thought of pleasing Anthony lights a fire in you.

You rush forward, capturing his lips with yours. He moans into the kiss, while your hands roam his body. You begin to stand slowly, never breaking the kiss, causing Anthony's head to lean back. One you have stood, you pull away in order to rid yourself of your mask and dress, feeling far too confined. Anthony stares, slack jawed as your dress falls to the floor, leaving you only in your undergarments and stockings. His hand moves between his legs, palming over a growing bulge.

You slip your shoes from your feet before raising a leg to the arm of the chair Anthony sits in. His hand immediately reaches for your foot, redirecting it to rest on the chair between his legs, a mere inch or two from his manhood. His eyes stay glued to yours as he pulls your stocking down your leg at a maddeningly slow pace. Your heaving breaths are the only sounds that fill the room. He repeats the action to the other leg, but before your foot reaches the ground, you brush it against the bulge between his legs teasingly.

You have never seen the male form in person, but you have seen illustrations. You found your mothers secret stash of books in your home's library a few years ago, and studied them diligently. The thought of Anthony recreating those illustrations has you aching with need.

A strangled whine claws its way up Anthony’s throat, which turns to a moan when he sees you lowering yourself in front of him. Your hands move quickly to free him from his breeches, gasping in delight when his length springs free. Anthony lets out a sigh of relief before hooking a finger under your chin and gazing into your eyes. “Are you sure?” His labored breath only spurs you on more, so instead of answering, you lean forward and flatten your tongue against his length. Slowly you move from base to tip, while Anthony grips the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turn white. The low moan he lets out tells you that you are doing something right, so you follow your instincts and wrap your mouth around his tip, sucking lightly.

His hands find their way to your hair, gripping with the perfect tension, causing you to moan. His hips stutter as he guides you up and down his length. Your hand raises to grip what cannot fit in your mouth, and he throws his head back in ecstasy. You lock eyes with him through your lashes, raising your unoccupied hand to his mouth. He obediently takes your thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your digit. Your mouth comes off his length while your hand continues to work him.

“Good boy.” You say with a sultry smile. The phrase has Anthony's eyes rolling back as he moans around your finger. “Mmm, you like that?” You ask him. He nods his head fervently, a pleading look taking over his usually stern features. The fact that you are the one making him feel this good makes you squeeze your legs together.

You stand abruptly, walking toward the bed while unlacing your corset. You throw a look over your shoulder to see Anthony still sat in the chair, seemingly awaiting your command. A sinister smile pulls at your lips, and you decide you want to play with him.

You let your corset fall away from your body, your back still facing him as your hands roam your chest. You pinch and tug at your nipples, letting your moans fall freely while your head tips back in bliss. Once you have worked yourself up enough, you turn back to face Anthony.

His hand is working himself as he watches you, mouth hanging open and eyes full of lust. A surge of anger fills you seeing him like this. You want to be the one touching him, the only one touching him. But your anger fades into want when you hear him moan unashamedly upon seeing your bare chest. His hand picks up speed and you reach for your drawers, pulling them down your legs at an achingly slow pace, watching him intently the whole time. The hand that was stroking himself stops as you make your way to the bed. The way the room is set up means you are both facing one another, him sat in the chair, and you sprawled on the bed.

Your hands roam all over your body, one hand settling between your legs while the other tweaks your nipples. You keep your eyes on the man before you as your fingers work slow circles over your sensitive clit. His eyes flick between your hand and your face, licking his lips with want as he reaches between his legs.

You force yourself to speak before he can touch himself again. “Stand up.” You tell him, the phrase sandwiched between moans. He obeys immediately, stepping toward you. You place your foot on his chest to stop him from moving any closer, your hand continuing its assault between your legs. “Take your shirt off. Please, I need to see you.” You say frantically. You feel yourself reaching your peak, and you want him to watch you come undone.

Anthony slowly unbuttons his undershirt, eyes locked on yours the whole time. “You’re close.” He says, grabbing your foot from his chest and slowly bringing it to his mouth. “I can tell.” He says, followed by a whine. His voice mixed with the feeling of his mouth on your foot is quickly bringing you to the edge.

“I am.” You pant. “I want you to watch me. Touch yourself, please.” The second you see his hand stroking his length, your eyes screw shut and your body begins to shake. All at once, white hot pleasure rips through your body. “Anthony!” You moan out, fighting to keep your eyes on him as your body shakes with aftershocks.

Your leg drops, and Anthony is beside you in an instant. Kissing your face and letting his hands roam all over your body. “You’re amazing. You did so well, so good.” His low voice whispering praises elongates your bliss. Once you’ve sufficiently calmed down, you roll onto your side and capture his lips with yours.

He pulls you to lay on top of him, your bare chests pressed together sending shocks through your system. He pauses his movements and pulls away, tucking your hair behind your ear.

For a moment, he looks almost scared, so you grab his hand and kiss his palm, just as he did to you minutes earlier. “What is it, dearest?” You ask in a melodic voice, resting his hand on your cheek and twisting the ring on his pinky.

He thinks for a moment, eyes never leaving yours, before responding. “You’re the only woman who’s made me feel like this.” He states. You furrow your brows, “How can you mean?” you ask. You know Anthony has been with other women, afterall, he is the Ton’s most notorious rake, so you find it hard to believe that you are the only woman who has made him feel pleasure.

That same scared look returns to his face, along with a hint of embarrassment. “You are the first woman to tell me what to do in the bedroom.” He begins.

“And you enjoy it when I tell you what to do?” You finish for him, a smug grin spreading across your face. He nods his head as his eyes flick between your eyes and lips, “Very much so.” He responds in a whisper.

“Good,” You say with a kiss to his lips. “Because I very much enjoy telling you what to do.” You sit up on his lap, and for the first time, you can feel his manhood between your folds.

Anthony can feel everything, the light pulse emanating from your heat, the clenching that happens every time your clit brushes his tip, and he can feel himself floating into bliss. His head feels fuzzy and all he can focus on is you. “Please,” he begs you, sounding disconnected from his own voice. “Please, My Lady, I need to feel you. Please.” The desperate sound of his voice, mixed with the name he’s used on you multiple times tonight rips a moan from your throat.

“Mmm, you've been so good, listening to me so well. Doing whatever I tell you to.” You’re teasing him now, whispering in his ear as you rock back and forth over his length, lightly nibbling his lobe.

“Can I touch you? Please Y/N, please let me touch you.” He whines, head thrown back into the pillow beneath him as you rock back and forth faster. You grab the hand that lays by his side, bringing it up to rest over your breast. Anthony immediately starts rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers, causing you to whimper in response.

“I love it when you beg.” You say to him, slowly lifting your hips and placing him at your entrance, pausing while looking at him expectantly.

“Please, Y/N. I need to feel you. Wrapped around me, squeezing me in the way I know only you can. Please, please, pl-” His final plea is replaced with a moan as you slowly sink down his length. It's uncomfortable at first, but the pain is replaced with sheer pleasure as your hips move in small circles. A string of incoherent pleas and praises are tumbling from Anthony’s mouth, his eyes locked with yours as his fingers continue their assault on your breast. You place your hands on his chest and begin to lift your hips, slowly at first, until you find a steady rhythm.

“How do I feel, hm? Oh god, you fill me so well.” You moan as he hits a spot that jolts your entire body. Your legs are growing tired, but you can feel yourself reaching another peak. Your hands roam his chest, tweaking his nipples in the same way he is to yours. His eyes roll back as a long, low moan escapes his mouth.

“Feels so good, My Lady.” He tells you, moaning when he feels you clench around him. “So, so good. I want you to come while I'm inside you, please, I need it, need you.” He says.

“You have me. You have all of me, Anthony, always.” You can tell he is getting close, his words becoming less understandable with each lift of your hips. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping tightly as pleasure wracks your entire body. Your moans are loud, and you can feel your release making a mess between the both of you.

Anthony practically screams as he finishes. The tight grip you have in his hair, the feeling of you pulsing around him, and your slick release is almost too much for him. He feels overstimulated in the best way possible, spilling inside of you with a muffled cry.

You collapse on top of him, sweaty and worn out. His arms immediately wrap around your body, soothingly rubbing your back. Once you start to regain your composure, you leave soft kisses on his neck, up his jaw, until finally capturing your lips with his. When you pull away, you're met with his bright eyes staring back at you.

“I love you.” You whisper to him.

“I’ve always loved you.” He responds, sealing his words with a passionate kiss, full of love and tenderness.

Months later, you’re walking the corridors of Aubrey Hall, hand resting on your swollen belly, heading toward your husband's study. The rest of the Bridgerton Family will be here in a matter of hours, staying for the week to enjoy the countryside with you and your husband.

You forego knocking on his door, instead just walking right in. You love catching him when he is working. The concentrated look on his face, and the way he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. But the second the door opens he knows it's you, since you are the only person who never knocks before coming into his study.

“My beautiful wife,” He breathes, happily stepping away from his work so he can get his hands on you. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks coyly, planting a searing kiss to your lips.

“My beautiful husband,” you respond, capturing his lips a second time. “Your family should be arriving soon, care to relax with me in the drawing room until they get here?” You ask him, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the study before he can protest.

“An offer I simply cannot refuse.” He responds happily.

The Bridgertons arrive shortly after you lure Anthony from his study, Daphne and Violet both fawning over your very obvious pregnancy. You and Anthony got married five months ago, but you are set to give birth any day now. No one has commented on the speedy pregnancy, but Daphne gives you a knowing look. After that first night with Anthony, you simply could not keep it from your dearest friend.

She pushed for a speedy engagement, but you had no care for what society may think of your improper activities, and no one in their right mind would question Anthony. You know there was gossip, and talks of scandal once word of your pregnancy got out, but you and your husband know it was born from love, and nothing else.

And that was enough for the two of you.

#anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 3 months

Text

-beans of various types-

The fourth son of the Cao household was leading a one-man war in the courtyard of the main house. His name was Cao Zhi, and he was a little boy of five years. Old enough to wear proper trousers, though his hair was still shaved in the middle and braided into two ox-horns on the sides. His sword was a stick, and his horse was a broom. Cao Zhi ran this way and that, leading soldiers that only his eyes could see.

“Crossbows back, ji forward! Hold fast and prepare to engage!” He had plenty of brothers but preferred to play alone. It wasn’t as much fun, but at least there was no one to scold him for being annoying or twist his arm when he talked back.

Victory was at hand, such was his concentration, Cao Zhi did not hear the horses arriving at the main gate or the servants rushing out to greet “Lord Cao!” A moment later, a man dressed in a short, plain riding coat stepped quietly into the courtyard and stopped under the shade of a tree to watch him.

“One more push, men! Calvary to the left and right! We’ll break their arrays and put them to route!” Most people would have been surprised to hear such a young child recite word-perfect battlefield commands at an age when most were singing nursery rhymes. The man in the shade watched him attentively without speaking a word. There was a complicated expression on his face.

Cao Zhi turned around and finally noticed that he had attracted an audience. The instant his eyes alighted on the man, his face split into a gap-toothed grin.

“Eldest Brother! Eldest Brother!” he cried and ran forward with his arms outstretched. Then, he remembered that his half-brother was now a man grown and the Heir Apparent to boot, so giving him a big hug was Not Proper anymore. He quickly stopped and bowed. “Greetings, Elder Brother. Zhi hopes you have travelled well.”

“I did, thank you,” replied his eldest brother, Cao Ang. He returned the bow, and his movements seemed a hundred times more refined in the boy's eyes. “I trust you’ve been in good health, Fourth Brother?”

“Yes. I am well.” Cao Zhi said, suddenly feeling very shy. It had been nearly a year since they had last spoken. Cao Ang left home as a brother and returned as a lord, capped and gowned, with a sword at his side and a dusty whip hanging from his belt. Between working in the civil service and accompanying Father on campaigns, there was a noticeable change in his manners and speech. The fifteen years between them suddenly felt as impassable as a mountain. Cao Ang had become impossibly tall, grand and grown-up. Almost more imposing than Father.

Perhaps it would be better if Cao Zhi played in the inner courtyard, out of his brother’s way. “May I take my leave, Eldest Brother?”

“Hold it,” Cao Ang commanded. His face was stern, but there was no mistaking the humorous twinkle in his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? How dare you approach your liege with your weapon bared!”

Cao Zhi realised that he was still holding onto his stick. He giggled and made a show of putting it into his belt, in place of a scabbard. “Please forgive your vassal’s impudence.”

“I fail to see what’s so funny, young man.” Cao Ang said, dead serious, which only made his little brother laugh harder. “I could have been run through!”

It happened just like that. As swiftly as a burst of water unblocking a choked-up stream. Any lingering awkwardness was gone, and the two of them began chatting and laughing like no time had passed.

(To be continued)

#ah yes. the cao beans.#my soy boys #cao ang #cao zhi #cao pi #san guo #i have a bunch of vignettes and not much plot so i'll just do my best to string it togather #my writing

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sasster · 2 months

Text

In Limbo

Uhm! This is a good time to post a drabble, hm? [Doc] —

And so it happens that an overabundance of caution can present as more of a detriment than self-preservation in the grand scheme. How else could it be that Aelium allowed himself to toil over the implications of his brush with death when at the heart of his city lives a church that specializes in such matters? Why does he feel like a stranger, spot-lit by the moons that dance through stained glass stretching high above him, that sticks out in the manner that a sore thumb might?

Nevermind that he is indeed a transplant into this city, an expat from an evil forest the likes of which one might find in a child’s tale. It’s a wonder this is his first stroke with death, when he thinks about the nature of his upbringing in that context. Nevermind, still, that he has never so much as set foot in a church, carnival, or whatever else the subjugating caste comes to call their ensembles.

Shouldn’t this be his natural habitat?

Right, well, he knows that to be an illogical response to the frustration rising for his inability to help himself. That helplessness roots him a short distance from the main entrance of the House of Restoration’s main building. If it were only as simple as a bird spreading its wings and taking easy flight to have the conversations that he needs to have.

He has only vocalized once or twice by now, his gripe with his journey across to the otherside. What could the Restorer tell him about death that he did not experience first hand, anyway?

That thought almost makes up his mind to flee this space that he does not belong in, but not before someone approaches him from somewhere to his right, his heart nearly jumps out of his throat when they address him.

”Dr. Lycaon. This is a surprise.” They speak with a gentle tone, one likely borne of sweeps of practice with assuming a tone and posture to make themselves appear less imposing. To appear like less of a threat. Aelium knows that game well. “Are you just visiting then?”

After adjusting to the shock of being referred to by name, he turns to face the stranger and suddenly finds himself lacking the knowledge of how one should address a religious elder. Sure it can be argued that the church is only a clown church in that it is a church run by someone painted to look like a clown, but even the most unorthodox of followings have their traditions and routines.

There are expectations and the realization that Aelium does not know what any of them are coils like a snake around his neck, laying its girth heavily upon his chest.

In short, the inexperienced purple blood chokes on his tongue at the sight of Father Roatus, the man he made the trip up to see, just as soon as they make eye contact.

Another wholly undo reaction as the priest's demeanor does not betray his reputation. He stands with his arms folded in front of him, patiently waiting for a response to his inquiry. There is not even the undertone of a threat that he’d often detected from his own ancestor during their visits, the principal reason Aelium sought to find a third party to vent his fears to.

By all accounts, on surface level at least, the Restorer is just a kindly old man. A kindly old man whose presence seems to make Aelium incapable of drawing in a breath.

The irony is not lost on him, either. Purple blood doctor with a soft touch and even softer bedside manner that new patients can never seem to come to terms with the first go around, meet the priest of a clown church with kind eyes that always makes the time to lend an ear. Two oxymorons walk into a bar.

What’s the punchline?

Aelium opens his mouth, but the snake of his anxiety establishes its dominance by tightening around him. He wishes he knew why this was so difficult.

The elder purple blood takes a glance around the room, seemingly surveying those of his following that mill about in their duties and worship. “Perhaps somewhere a bit more private will suit your purposes?” He offers in a voice only meant for Aelium’s ears.

“I,” he swallows. “I think that would help.”

Father Roatus nods and turns to walk, he leads his new sheep down a corridor built for something much larger than the pair. If the Dominion were known for leaving his domain, these high ceilings and wide berth provided by the hall would suit him nicely.

The Restorer is not friends with the Dominion, but Aelium wonders about the stoic priest’s ability to make friends in the first place. From what he saw of the man’s children in public, they at least seem to be pretty reasonable and personable.

He winces at the judgment he passed, suddenly feeling mean for having passed it on the man he sought out for help.

When they arrive at what Aelium assumes to be the man’s study, a comfortable space with shelves full of books lining the walls and the feature of a desk more fit for large projects than paperwork, the doctor is overcome by a feeling he can only describe as serenity. Loath as he is to use the word.

They take their seats at opposite ends of the table, that up close looks made custom with carvings of little mantis heads along the edge, and Aelium finds himself fidgeting with the edge of his sweater. He curses himself for not bringing along one of the knick knacks from his own desk to save him from his idle hands.

The Restorer says nothing, maybe he is wondering what the hell is wrong with this kid. Maybe no thoughts pass behind his eyes at all.

“Uhm, I heard about Marrie.”

“Oh, yes. Information tends to find itself into anyones ears these days,” he pauses and gives him a once over. “Do you suppose that your medical know-how will be of use to her?”

“No! Uhm, sorry, I just wanted to extend my condolences, I am sorry she was hurt is all.” He wants to kick himself for saying sorry in the same sentence.

“Yes? I will ensure they reach her, then.”

Aelium nods, finding it suddenly difficult to navigate words around his own tongue.

“I assume this is not what brings you.”

“It is not,” now, finding himself unable to make eye contact, he focuses his attention on his hands under the table. “I died recently.”

“Is that right?”

Aelium looks up to see the priest watching with eyes that refuse to tell him what he is thinking, his own eyes darting around in search of answers to the questions he is too afraid to ask. The features of the other man are no help, only a pair of nicely groomed eyebrows raised ever so slightly and the pencil thin line that his lips pull together in.

There is nothing. He is unreadable. Aelium has had just about enough of nothing lately.

“Only for a moment, I think? I was stabbed in the heart.”

“I see.” Maybe he is sick of people coming to him with this issue, his daughter literally just had this catastrophic incident, and here is Aelium begging him to help make his problems go away. So what if he has a death church that has his name on the door, why is any of this his problem. “Now you feel lost?”

Aelium takes in a shaky breath and tries to remind himself that his anxious thoughts are not rooted in reality. But at the same time he is stricken by a vivid memory of the inky black nothingness he experienced, it stabs directly into his heart. He feels his limbs start to grow cold, as if his body were reacting to hypothermia and evacuating his extremities to more important organs, like his heart that is doing its best to jump out of his mouth.

“There was nothing.” He whispers.

“Why is that so terrible? That there was nothing?”

An answer does not come quickly to Aelium, instead, his mind is clouded by the nothingness that he swam through for an eternity and for no time at all, before he knows it tears spill over his cheeks. He gasps for air, but his lungs do not work very hard to aid him in that quest, and he feels a bit stupid. He blubbers like a baby in front of this old man that definitely did not ask for it.

Ailzea does not move, not at first, hands folded on the table in front of him, perhaps he lacks the know-how in comforting a stranger having a breakdown in his office.

For a few moments more, Aelium sits there sobbing, and his shoulders begin to shake, big globs of tears streak down and make a mess of his shirt and the table before him. “I am terrified.” He finally manages, his voice strained by the force. “I am terrified of nothing.”

He does not hear the older troll rise, gaze still on the table in front of him, nor does he hear him walk to this side of the table. He remains ignorant of the movement until the priest wraps his arms around him and pulls him in for a hug.

“I am sorry to hear this, my child,” he says softly, one hand moving up to pet his hair as the doctor turns to bury his face into his robes, staining them with his tears now. “Thank you for sharing this with me, I will do my best to take care of you in your time of need.”

Aelium grips uselessly at his robes and lets out one more desperate sob before nodding back into the safety of the embrace.

#coko writes sometimes #the restorer #aelium #long post

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xamaxenta · 1 month

Note

Sometimes I think that dragon already knew about Imu, like dragon is smart ( he has to be) but sometimes I think he might have been too smart.

Like an 8 yr old spouting advanced battle tactics and catching the attention of higher ups.

Eventually catching the attention of the five elders

Maybe even..

Imagine it being 9-10 years old. Your father’s hand has left your shoulder “I’ll be right behind the door.” Was given with a tight smile. Garp hadn’t wanted this, but he had been given an order and there was no loophole. Dragon shivers, it’s a garden of sorts yet all of it feels wrong, twisted and he is overwhelmed by the urge to leave.

There’s a figure at the other edge of the garden, standing like a human. It tells him to come and he does, pulled like a noose has been tied around his neck.

He ends at the figures feet, bowing. Its feet aren’t even touching the grass.

“Do you like chess?”

Dragon looks up, despite every bone in his body telling him not to. He looks up because his grandmother told him it was bad manners not to look someone in the eye when they were talking to you.

Red

Years later all dragon can recount is the colour red and certainty that he would die.

Id really like for more Garp nuance to come to the forefront for the monkey family lore

This is really good tho, dragon encountering Imu as a child because hes a strange one in a million every century prodigy

He likes chess but maybe he hasnt touched a piece since that encounter preferring to hypothetically speaking keep all his pieces inside his head

^^ just theorycrafting the headcanon Dragon doesnt have a war table or tacticle map room that would be common to find for an organisation like his

Its all in his noggin he cant risk yknow

#raccooon returns with the steel chair and whACKS me outta the ring

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songbookff · 2 days

Text

Dipping my toes back in. House of the Dragon. Show canon, not book canon.

To the Black Queen and the Queen Who Never Was, a small, sad interlude.

Rhaenyra had stood on the beach for hours. Not the same beach that she had searched desperately for her son, but the same water that claimed his soul. She didn't know how to mourn this loss, not properly. Visenya’s demise was a dagger to the heart…but Luc’s? It was a thousand swords.

“He rests with his father now.”

It took Rhaenyra a few seconds to register the words and to notice she was no longer standing alone on the shore. Her posture stiffened at the woman who had joined her, although Rhaenys was keeping a respectable distance.

He rests with his father now.

But that wasn't true, she wanted to scream. And since when had Rhaenys considered her boys to be Laenor’s sons? She knew what her goodmother thought of her and her children. It was no secret. Rhaenyra still didn't know why Rhaenys had sided with them in the manner of Driftmark’s succession.

And she didn't know why she was on the beach with her now.

But when Rhaenyra finally turned to look the elder woman in the eyes, she was not met with the unyielding gaze of the queen who never was. Instead, she saw a mother who still carried the grief of the loss of her children with her. There was no judgement in Rhaenys’ expression; just compassion. A mother's face, one ready to hear Rhaenyra’s confession.

“He was a child,” she rasped, her throat still sore from crying. She blinked away unbidden tears and Rhaenys stepped closer, reaching to pull Rhaenyra’s hands into her own.

“There are no words I could offer that comfort you in this moment,” Rhaenys murmured. “But know that my lord husband and I mourn this loss beside you.”

“It is my fault.” The words fell from her tongue before she could stop them. She hasn't even had the nerve to say the same to Daemon. “He was a child and I sent him on his own, for my own benefit-”

Rhaenys shook her head, white braids dancing in the breeze from the ocean. “Do you think Luc would have been safe if you had bent the knee? Jace or Joffrey? Your sons with Daemon? Rhaenyra, as soon as the Hightowers’ placed the crown upon Aegon’s, this was inevitable.”

“But you…”

The Queen who never was.

The words hung in the air between them. As did the implication of what Rhaenyra didn't say. Rhaenys had been the rightful heir, with a dragon and the Velaryon fleet at her disposal. But she had stepped down when the Council made their decision.

“A different time. And a different situation,” murmured Rhaenys. She released Rhaenyra's hands and turned to face the sea, watching as the waves rolled endlessly in.

They stood silently for a few minutes, each lost in a different sort of grief. It was Rhaenys who spoke first and her words were barely audible above the wind.

“My mother would have had me marry Viserys.”

The statement took Rhaenyra by surprise. Her childhood had been filled with stories of her parents courtship and how they were destined for each other. And of course how the Princess Rhaenys had made a match for herself with Corlys, riding to her wedding on dragon back. It has never occurred to her that the more advantageous match would have been between the two presumptive heirs.

Rhaenys continued to speak, but didn't turn back in Rhaenyra's direction, so the Queen had to step in to hear the Princess’s words.

“Of course, we didn't know that my father would befall an early death. Nor that your grandsire would pass before the King. My mother had proposed the match early, but it had been dismissed by all. They kept saying she would be blessed with a son. And then they all swore loyalty to my own claim. Not that anyone would have been able to separate your father and mother…”

“They loved each other.” The words felt bitter as she said them, but in her heart, Rhaenyra knew they were true.

“And goodness, could you imagine your father dealing with me day in and day out?” There was humor in Rhaenys' voice now, something Rhaenyra hadn't heard in such a long time. At least, not in front of her. “I knew my match when I saw him. My lord husband may be under the impression that he negotiated his family tree into the Targaryen's, but I had already told my father of my intentions to marry.”

“And he listened…” murmured Rhaenyra.

Now Rhaenys turned to face her. “Would the world be different now, if I had married Viserys and we had sat upon the Iron Throne as one? Would it be different if you had married Daemon all those years ago instead of my son?”

Rhaenyra flinched at the underlying insinuation but Rhaenys didn't seem to notice, continuing on, “But in those worlds, Luc would never have been at all. At least in this one, you held him for a time. And now you carry his memory.”

The truth hit her like a stone wall. Rhaenyra closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. Her memory drifted to the first time she held the screaming babe in her arms. He was hers. And Harwin’s. And Laenor's.

She remembered the way he would crawl after Jace and reach out for his dragon when they visited the youngling. Luc was always more tender hearted than his brothers, but eager to please. And she remembered how proud he was to ride out with the message to Storm’s End.

It was all her fault.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” she whispered. She didn't feel like a queen now; more like the small child who climbed in her mother's bed during a thunderstorm.

Opening her eyes again, she saw Rhaenys regarding her carefully, as if trying to find the right words. When she spoke, the word was thick with pain. “No.”

Rhaenys took one last glance out into the rolling waves that had claimed yet another member of her family. Then she offered Rhaenyra a small incline of her head and began to walk back to the rocky steps of Dragonstone.

Suddenly, a wave of fresh guilt washed over Rhaenyra. It clashed with the swell of grief in her heart. The love of her son and the love of her friend. Laenor should know of Luc’s death. And no mother should suffer a loss such as this for no reason.

“Princess!” she called into the wind. Rhaenys paused, turning to look over her shoulder. Rhaenyra took a deep breath.

There's something you should know.

#rhaenys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd

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xoxiu · 9 months

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter fourteen table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline

taglist: @allamericanuniverse @llallaaa, @frieschan

“I don’t know what to do, hyung,” Yoongi sighed. It felt like a losing battle with Kiwo. Everything would be going so good in Yoongi’s eyes and then Kiwo would break down and throw away all progress they had made.

Just today, Yoongi requested fried rice for lunch for him and Kiwo. He knew Kiwo loved fried rice, but he added edamame and kimchi to diversify Kiwo’s palate. The additions weren’t even noticeable, but Kiwo immediately sensed that something was off with her food and refused to eat. When Yoongi suggested to just eat around what she didn’t like, she just grew angry and knocked her plate to the ground.

“Well, you can’t send her back,” Seokjin pointed out.

“I know, I know,” Yoongi brushed off Seokjin’s comment, “It’s just she’s unbelievably autistic. Like at first it was cute, but now it’s just annoying.”

Seokjin hummed in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. She’s autistic.” The elder looked over into the living room where Namjoon and Kiwo were working on a Lego set together. It looked like Kiwo was just building her part silently while ignoring Namjoon.

Yeah, it was kind of obvious.

“You need to just look into it more. Get her on a solid schedule and learn what she likes and dislikes.”

”But she dislikes me-“

”Yoogie !” A small voice from the living room called out. Seokjin gave Yoongi a smile, while the younger simply ignored the call for him in order to continue his sulking.

“I don’t think she dislikes you.”

”But she acts so much differently now than a month ago, hyung. It’s like she’s gotten more irritable.” Yoongi cringed as he became aware of how whiny he sounded. However, he saw no other way to get his point across.

Seokjin thought for a minute, looking back towards Namjoon and Kiwo. They were quietly arguing, with Kiwo scolding Namjoon for placing the wrong color Lego in a certain spot. He chuckled at how his boyfriend was handling the situation- Seokjin thought he was getting more riled up than Kiwo. Then it hit him.

Hard.

“Yoongi-ah, you know how Jimin is a little, right? Taehyung and Hoseok’s little.”

“Yeah.”

”I think she might be little, too.”

While Yoongi wouldn’t want to admit it, it did make sense. He was aware that her emotions rivaled that of a preteen, but her mannerisms and behavior wasn’t that of an 18 year old’s. There would be some times where it felt like he was dealing with an adult, but most times she acted like a spoiled child.

Small feet could be heard stomping through the living room into the kitchen where Yoongi and Seokjin sat. A red-faced Kiwo who looked very displeased crossed her arms in front of the two elders. She let out a huff before speaking.

“Yoogie, Namjoon won’t stop talking to me in Korean. It’s not fair.”

“Let’s come up with a plan together. My younger cousin is autistic, so I have a general idea of what would be best.” Seokjin brought out a small notebook that was left unused. On the front cover, he wrote ‘Kiwo & Yoongi’ in thick, black Sharpie.

They decided on rules first. Yoongi had rules previously in place, but rarely followed through with reprimands for breaking them. Mainly because he himself couldn’t remember them, so it would be rude to assume Kiwo would remember as well.

The first rule was to be respectful to others and their things. Kiwo had a habit of just forgetting honorifics and manners or treating others like they were beneath her, which Yoongi immediately wanted to nip in the bud. Throwing food on the floor, constantly trying to steal Yoongi’s phone, and physically fighting with others were all bad habits Kiwo had picked up.

Next was sleep. Both Yoongi and Kiwo struggled with good sleep schedules, so establishing one now would be beneficial. Bedtime was 11pm, and they would be out of bed before 10am.

The last big rule was about food. Ultimately, Yoongi and the rest of the members of Bangtan had superiority over Kiwo, and she needed to listen and understand that she wasn’t in control. She needed to learn to eat what she was given as none of the men believed in starving anyone, and that she couldn’t survive off such ill nutritious foods.

If Kiwo broke a rule, she would be immediately punished. Yoongi had a habit of delaying a punishment until after he finished whatever it was he was doing, or stepping away for nearly an hour to let himself calm down. If he continued this, Seokjin pointed out, Kiwo wouldn’t associate the punishment with the crime. The main punishments were a spanking or grounding her by taking away her fun toys and such, but Yoongi had to use his own discretion for what was best. Whether that be a spanking or corner time or washing her mouth out with soap, it was up to him.

And finally, he needed to get Kiwo on somewhat of a schedule. Knowing what was going on everyday and having a predictable schedule was super beneficial to autistic individuals, and Kiwo was no exception. Yoongi made sure the schedule fit in all three meals, one-on-one Korean study time, and a visit to Seokjin and Namjoon’s apartment, usually before or just after dinner.

“This looks really good, Yoongi-yah.” Seokjin praised, giving Yoongi a pat on the back. The younger smiled slightly as he closed the notebook and put it in his pocket.

The sound of the door opening drew their attention to the entryway. Taehyung, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all walked inside, dressed in puffy coats from the coolness outside.

“Jinnie hyung, we brought chicken!” Hoseok shouted, and ran straight to the kitchen after removing his shoes. He placed the boxes of fried chicken down on the table before his eyes came across Yoongi.

”Yoongi hyung is here? Is Kiwo here?” Excitement leaked from Hoseok’s voice as his brain slowly made the connections between Yoongi being here and Kiwo being here.

“You ran straight past her!” Seokjin said, throwing his hands in the air. Wordlessly but with a smile, Hoseok ran back into the living room where everyone else sat.

Jungkook sat on the recliner with Taehyung on his lap. Both of them were watching Demon Slayer on the television. Hoseok and Namjoon sat on the couch watching Jimin and Kiwo play with the Legos. Kiwo had just finished up her portion of the set, and was waiting for Jimin to finish up what Namjoon had started.

Yoongi and Seokjin walked in and took up the rest of the couch next to Namjoon. Yoongi looked down at Kiwo and saw blood pooling up around her lips. He sighed- it seemed impossible to break that habit of hers. He shuffled through her backpack that lay next to him until he found a pink pacifier. He walked over to the two littles and popped the pacifier into Kiwo’s mouth.

Kiwo paid no mind to Yoongi, continuing on playing with the extra spare Legos Namjoon had laying around. Or, well, stacking them into a tower, if you consider that playing.

“You’re just a big baby,” Jimin said in Korean. Kiwo just stared at him, not understanding anything that he was saying.

“I don’t use a pacifier but you do.”

”Jimin-ah, it’s fine that she uses a pacifier.” Taehyung said, never taking his eyes off the TV screen. “Besides, you sometimes take one at nap time-“

”No I don’t!” Jimin whined and slammed his hand against the carpeting. Taehyung simply shot him a hard look to put an end to the tantrum before it began. Jimin huffed and placed his attention back on his Legos.

Yoongi was surprised by how well Kiwo did during dinner. She ate a lot of spicy chicken when Yoongi expected her to not eat any due to the spice.

After dinner, all of them laid around the living room watching some romance movie. Yoongi was barely paying attention, more focused on his phone and watching Kiwo’s sleepy face.

“Uh, Yoongi hyung…” Jungkook spoke up, getting up to walk over to Yoongi’s place on the couch. The younger held his phone out to reveal texts between him and his father.

‘Father: American police are getting involved with Kiwo’s disappearance. Police here are getting strong armed and are going to start an investigation soon. Get Kiwo out now before the police have no choice.’

Yoongi had to read the text message over and over again just to ensure he read it right.

“Shit!” Yoongi screamed, hitting the arm rest next to him with a closed fist. Kiwo startled awake and fell off Yoongi’s lap with a thud. All eyes were on him as he stood up and began pacing the room.

“What’s up, Yoongi hyung?” Jimin asked, standing up alongside Taehyung to check on the elder.

“They’re fucking after her!” Yoongi exclaimed, grasping the back of the couch hard enough for this knuckles to turn red. “American police are catching onto us and are investigating her disappearance.”

The room filled with a silent fear and concerned looks. No one knew what to say.

Except Kiwo.

“For real?” She asked, her demeanor cheerful and giddy. “I get to go home?”

Seokjin looked over at the youngest with pity. He shook his head as he stood up to console Yoongi.

“Not exactly,” Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but as no one else was speaking up, he saw no other choice.

“We’ll have to relocate for the time being.” Jungkook clarified, his heart breaking when he looked down at Kiwo’s now distraught face. “All of us, since we’re all involved.”

”No!” Kiwo said, standing up defensively, “I get to go home to my parents and friends. I get to go back to school away from you freaks!”

”Freaks?” Jimin asked to himself, looking over at Hoseok for confirmation. Hoseok only continued to silently converse with Seokjin and Yoongi.

There was a moment of silence where they all just looked at each other, not sure what to say. Seokjin cleared his voice, and all eyes were on him.

“My parents own a villa outside Busan. We could all stay there for the time being- there’s more than enough room.”

“Thank you, hyung.” Yoongi sighed, his heart rate slowing down ever so slightly at having a plan of action.

“We’ll leave tonight so there won’t be many police out and make it there early in the morning.” Seokjin said, placing a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Let’s all pack up and meet back here.”

So much for creating a routine for Kiwo.

#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia au #bts little space #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #vminhope #namjin #my house of stone your ivy grows

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soka-writes-things · 19 days

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01. trivial matters and a cocktail

𝖊𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝖘𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬

❝ 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀? ❞

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 a senator decides her life needs a bit of spice so she embarks on an adventure. unwillingly, of course.

the bad batch x fem!oc

all seasons

in progress

back - next

chapter one!

01. trivial matters and a cocktail

WHISPERS ROSE THROUGHOUT the massive dome room as Senators talked together about trivial matters. Senator Sokanara Tanobi tapped a button on her pod, loosely holding the handles as the pod moved to conjoin with Senator Bail Organa's pod.

"Senator," she greeted with a smile. The pods bumped together gently before latching onto each other magnetically.

"Hello Senator Tanobi," Organa greeted diplomatically, not looking up from the screen ingrained into the pod, "Do you have a matter to discuss?"

Soka continued to grin at him, leaning back slightly in her pod. "Can't one come to a friend to say hi?"

A breathy snort came from Organa as he pulled away from the screen on his pod. "Oh yes, but I feel that you would have done so outside of the council meeting rather than now, so I suspect that you are up to something."

Soka's smiled brightened as she jumped up, practically leaning across her pod into the side of Senator Organa's pod as she stared up at him with glimmering eyes.

"You know me too well, Orgy." A laugh came from the younger female as a look of disgust appeared on Organa's face. "Have you no shame? Never call me that again." Organa told her sternly, glancing around briefly to make sure no one overheard her embarrassing, and frankly very suggestive, nickname.

Soka shrugged, "Teasing you is all part of the fun," she tapped her fingers on the outline of her pod, "and I'm quite bored, so I would say no, I currently have no shame."

Organa raised an eyebrow at the Senator who was tracing the curved metal lines that ran along the outside of the pod. He sighed as he presented the room with his arm to Soka, "You do realize you are standing in one of the most dignified and important places in all of Coruscant, and you are complaining that you are bored? Shouldn't you go interact with other senators instead of bugging me?"

Soka glanced up at Organa, a teasing glint in her eye. "Now," she started, "why would I go converse with people who think that clones do not deserve a place in the galaxy like us?" Organa furrowed his brow, trying to figure out where Soka was taking the conversation, "I think it's quite harming actually, to speak with people who have such low intelligence like them. I might lose a brain cell or two just by listening to their stupidity."

Organa pursed his lips, trying not to laugh at Soka's blatant roast. "Now now Tanobi, I think you should be generous when speaking about your elders like that. You are lucky that they aren't currently swarming you for your harsh words."

"Of course they wouldn't swarm me, Organa, they are so old that they can't hear what I am saying anyways." Soka put her hands to her hips in a mocking manner, swinging her right hip to the side. Organa rolled his eyes at Soka's sass, barely having to lean forward as he flicks her easily upon the head.

Soka scowled as she held a hand up to her forehead, peeking up at Organa through her lashes. "So, so cruel. Whatever have I faulted you for?"

Organa smirked at Soka, "I swear I feel like your father at times. You are just a silly child who does not understand the trouble she could be in if others had heard her thoughtless words."

Soka sighed, opening her mouth to retort, but the bell sounded, ending the break and signaling the ending of the session. Soka waved goodbye at Organa as she clicked a button on her pod, watching the magnetic force dwindle and turn off, the two pods detaching once the shield was diminished.

Soka and Organa both clicked a small orange button which turned their pods to return to its home spot in the massive wall. Other pods around them did the same, the room shining from the glint of metal dancing around the room before coming to a stop.

Soka turned to the right, noticing the young blue senator in the pod next to her. The Senator looked quite frazzled from the talk she must have just had with the other senators, causing Soka to frown in response.

"Senator Chuchi?" She asked gently, catching the young girl's attention. Chuchi turned her gaze from her pod screen to Soka's own gaze. "Ah, yes. So sorry, what were you saying?" She asked, her hands visibly shaking from anger or from nerves, Soka couldn't tell.

"Are you quite alright? You seem a bit shaken." Soka asked, reaching a hand out to comfort the young woman. Even though Soka was quite a young Senator, joining the council when she was at the bright age of 22, Senator Chuchi looked to be even younger.

A hum came from Chuchi as she thought over her answer before clenching her hands into small fists. "The other senators and I had a bit of a quarrel since we didn't agree to each others statements."

Soka bit her lip and a breezy laugh came from her. "Ah yes, those old squirts. Might I ask what you all were debating about?"

Chuchi's gaze hardened and she turned her gaze into a glare at the Senators she was talking to a short while ago. "The rights of the clones."

A smile came to Soka's face, "Ah, clones. They are quite interesting beings, aren't they?" Chuchi whipped her head to stare at Soka, a distrustful look on her face. "Interesting?" She asked, "in what way?"

Soka nodded to herself as she moved her hands into a ball in front of her. "They all look the same, harbor the same brain, or something similar to it, and some even act the same. But the interesting thing about them is that they all couldn't be any more different from each other. I've met the most wonderful clones who look exactly alike, but have such different personalities." Chuchi smiled in relief at Soka's words.

"I completely agree, Senator! They are as much as living beings as we are but some other Senators don't agree purely because they were created in a lab instead of a womb or a shell like others." Chuchi seemed super enthusiastic about the subject and it broke Soka's heart at how most people in the galaxy wouldn't be as inclusive and happy about the Clones getting recognition and rights.

The chat between Chuchi and Soka was cut short when a booming voice filled the room. "Discussions and votes for Vice Admiral Rampart's bill has been delayed to the next session and the discussion for the Rights of Clones has been pushed to the next session as well." A buzzing sound filled the room, "Galactic Senate adjourned."

Senators left their pods as the doors behind them opened, their representative space turning off and leaving a shadow as they disappeared. Soka gave a small wave to Chuchi as she too left her pod, the lights turning off behind her. Two male guards awaited her outside her space.

They looked down at their Senator, a sharp nod in greeting. Soka nodded back, her face turning to stone as some of the other... troublesome senators walked by. She watched them leave with a huff before walking in the opposite direction to find the exit.

"Blaise?" She spoke into the air, the guard on her right leaning forward. "Yes ma'am?" She turned to look at the dark skinned male, "Cancel the meeting with Senator Kobat, I wish to take the rest of the evening for myself."

Blaise whipped a pad out of his pouch and tapped away as they continued to walk forward. "And Okiver?" Okiver, the pink skinned Zeltron male, a person of her own species, looked down at her. "Could you make sure to grab Blaise and go to the diner down at the center? I wish for you and your boyfriend to have the rest of the day off as well."

Okiver's pink skin turned red at Soka's statement. Soka raised an eyebrow at Okiver's embarrassment, "Do you not wish for me to refer to Blaise as your boyfriend?" Okiver scratched his neck as he opened the door to lead them outside of the building. "It's not that... it just takes a while to get used to hearing it." Soka patted her guard on the shoulder.

"Well by the time you get used to using the term "boyfriend", you'll have to get use to the word "husband" instead." Okiver's face turned a brighter shade of red, and if his skin wasn't already pink and bright, Soka might've thought that something was wrong with him.

Soka spotted her transportation already waiting at the edge of the sidewalk and turned to her two guards. Blaise, who had already put the pad away, stared down at her suspiciously. "Ma'am, I know what you are about to suggest, and I suggest against it."

Soka sent him a fake offended look as she stopped walking, making the two stop walking with her. "Whatever could you mean? You make me sound as if I'm the one on the wrong."

Okiver sighed, giving Blaise an exasperated look. "Are you going to ask me to count?" He asked Soka. Soka twirled around to meet his eyes, "Why of course! You know me far too well." Blaise threw his hands up in the air from behind Soka, "Why do I even try?!"

Soka stuck her tongue out at Blaise as she dug her heel into the ground. Blaise rolled his eyes, copying her movement.

"Three,"

Soka drew a sharp breath, mentally preparing herself.

"Two,"

Blaise stiffened beside her, also seemingly preparing himself, despite the relaxed face he held.

"One,"

A beaming smile appeared on Soka's face as Blaise gritted his teeth, waiting for the signal.

"Go!"

Blaise and Soka sprinted forward, leaving Okiver behind them to eat their dust. With a small sigh, Okiver started walking forward, ignoring the onlookers who weren't used to the shenanigans the young senator got up to. Some people who frequented the senate knew how eccentric she could be.

Okiver forced himself to jog behind the two airheads, who were already arguing at the speeder. Okiver expected them to be arguing about who won, but instead it seemed more like Blaise was scolding Soka for something, whilst she responded with a sour face.

"You can't just run into an elderly woman without apologizing!" He exclaimed in frustration, looking as if he was only a minute away from tugging his own hair out, or maybe Soka's, Okiver couldn't tell.

"She was in the way!" Soka replied hotly, a frown gracing her lips. "And for your information I did apologize!"

Blaise scowled, "Oh yeah, like giving a brief sorry and a wave does any good."

Soka tried to stand as tall as tall as she could, as tall as a 1.8m person could against a 1.9m person that is. Soka puffed out her cheeks as she stared angrily at Blaise, crossing her arms.

"I refuse to talk to a salty winner." She stuck her head to the side, looking at Okiver. Okiver raised his hands in the air, showing he was innocent. "I have literally no say in this since I didn't see her knocking into anyone."

Blaise huffed, reaching behind Soka and putting an arm on her neck. "Whatever, stop being stubborn and get in the transport." Soka frowned, peering up at Blaise. "What if I don't want to?"

Blaise reached down and swooped Soka up bridal style, ignoring her shrieks of surprise and practically shoved her into the back seat of the transport. "You have no say, Soapy."

Soka's face burned in embarrassment as she stuck her tongue at Blaise. "Wow, so mature." Blaise responded as he jumped over Okiver's seat to get into the driver's seat.

Okiver sighed in exasperation for the umpteenth time that day, and it was only 1600 hours. He piled into the car after Blaise and slumped in his seat, looking in the review mirror at Soka who had already gotten out her holopad to most likely message Senator Organa.

Okiver kind of pitied Senator Organa for the obsession that Soka had with him. "Soka," Okiver spoke up, "Stop bothering Senator Organa."

Soka raised an eyebrow at him, Blaise doing the same but keeping his eye on the traffic lanes.

"I'm not 'bothering' Bail." Soka said with a small laugh, handing her holopad forward to Okiver. "Apparently a defective clone batch was just reported dead. Clone Force 99, I think they are called."

Okiver had to do a double take at her words. Practically snatching the holopad from her hands, Okiver skimmed the article that Soka was reading.

"Do you know who Clone Force 99 is?" Okiver asked Soka, knowing that Blaise knew who they were due to Okiver's fanboy behavior over the batch.

Soka thought for a second, a pouty frown as she tapped her chin. "Nope." She finally said, popping the p.

Okiver opened his mouth to start his rambling session with excitement but Blaise reached a hand over, placing it on his thigh. "Take a breath first. You don't want to drown her in your words."

Okiver closed his mouth with a click, mulling over what he was going to say in his mind.

"Can I have my holopad back?" Soka asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. Okiver reached behind his head, passing the holopad back to Soka.

"So who's the Clone Force 99?" She asked, placing her pad in her lap with an innocent look gracing her face. Soka knew some details about the C. Force 99, but she knew how excited Okiver got with something he really liked, so she pretended to be oblivious so he could teach her.

"Only the best clone batch out there!" Okiver said, throwing his hands up and almost hitting his boyfriend. With a quick sorry, he turned in his seat to face Soka.

"Clone Force 99, otherwise known as The Bad Batch, is a group of defective clones. Well, they are called defective but it's just cause they have mutations." Okiver started, clasping his hands together.

"The leader, Hunter is his name, can sense magnetic waves and track things really well, and this is only just what I know of. He's the one for creating and calling plans and making sure his batch is safe and unharmed. He's also really hot-" Okiver received a light hit to the back of his head by Blaise. "Not as hot as you of course, babe." Okiver told Blaise with a smile, before turning back to Soka with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"His old second in command, Crosshair, has exceptional eyesight and is the sharpshooter of their team. He and the rest of the Bad Batch had a bit of a scuffle a while ago and instead of betraying the empire like they did, he stayed and decided to hunt them down. Really sad, but he wasn't the hottest so I'm not complaining." Soka rolled her eyes with a smile, knowing how biased Okiver could be with hot men.

"The brains of the operation is Tech, or his full name is Technically but he uses Tech. He is the one who knows all the knowledge and helps create the strategies. I'm pretty sure he's usually the pilot as well.

Wrecker, the big guy, he's the muscles. Usually people would think of him as all brawn no brain, but even if he isn't the brightest lightsaber out of the pack, he still has a lot of strategy and fun about him. He also likes to blow things up." Okiver grinned a sneaky grin, leaning over to Soka.

He cupped his hands to whisper in Soka's ear, "Tech is the cutest one but Wrecker seems like he'd be a mean guy in the sheets." Soka lurched away from Okiver, her eyes wide and face flushed at hearing what Okiver said. With a withering glare at Okiver, not trusting her mouth to say something stupid, Okiver shrugged in response. "Just saying. Wrecker is a total sweetheart though, I heard a clone say he's got this really adorable Tooka doll name Lula or something."

Soka waved her hand, "Is that all of them?"

Okiver shook his head, "They added a person to their group, Echo is his name. He doesn't have mutations like the others but when he was captured and held on Skako Minor, some.. unpleasant things were done to him and he received some metal limbs during his time there. He kinda strikes me as a babysitter who would tut over the group, but I think Hunter does that job."

Soka frowned, "People in this galaxy are so cruel, I can't believe they would do that to him."

Okiver nodded, a solemn look on his face. "And the last person, the main reason I think Crosshair left the team, is a little clone baby named Omega. Well she isn't a baby, but she's a child compared to them. I can't remember why they left with her, but they've been traveling with her ever since. I've heard whispers from Cid's contacts that she has a really good team of people in armor who do her tasks for her, so we've all just assumed it's the Bad Batch."

Soka nodded, inhaling all the new information she received. "Also aren't they rumored to have 100% success rate? How come they are reported dead then?"

Okiver's face dropped at her words, and he turned back around in his seat. "I'm not sure, but the article says they died in the Kamino storm that destroyed the cities, though Kamino was built to survive all those kind of storms. So I don't know why this one knocks them out."

Soka sighed, "That's honestly really sad. I would've loved to meet them." Okiver nodded in agreement.

"I love the sentiment and sadness and whatever, but we are coming up on your residence, Soka, so I recommend you start picking up your dress and don't forget your holopad when you leave." Blaise spoke up, snapping the two Zeltron's out of their sadness trance.

Soka sent him a thumbs up, gathering her holopad and dress into her lap.

The transport pulled in front of the Tanobi Residence shortly after. A huge white building that towered over most of the other buildings and was so huge it went into the clouds, the penthouse that is, of course. The penthouse is where Soka lived, while the rest of the Tanobi residence served as a hotel.

The doorman walked up to the transport, recognizing that it was Soka's.

"Lady Tanobi," He greeted with a small bow. Soka nodded back, slipping out of the door once the doorman opened it for her. She waved goodbye at Blaise and Okiver before following the doorman over to the main door.

Soka's feet tapped impatiently against the tile of the elevator floor as the number ticked up slowly.

75...

89...

97...

99...

100.

The elevator dinged, opening the doors to the entrance hall of Soka's penthouse.

A guard stood at the entrance, turning to the opening doors and pointing his blaster at Soka.

"Password?"

Soka looked the guard in the eyes, standing tall as she spoke, "Sokanara Tanobi."

The guard relaxed with a small smile, shaking his head. "Welcome home, Soka. I really don't see the point in the password sometimes, it's not like anyone else can get up here without the key in the elevator."

Soka waved her hand as the guard followed her to the dining room, "Just extra precautions. We live in desperate times, Joqin."

Joqin laughed as he accepted the cocktail glass that Soka handed over. "Oh lay off it, sis. As a Senator, you are technically more safe than anyone here." Soka raised an eyebrow at her guard, who deemed it funny to call her sis just because they were of the same species.

"And also the one in the most danger if I offend anyone and they decide that I've breathed enough in this lifetime." Soka added, mixing up a cocktail drink and pouring some in her own glass before adding it to Joqin's.

Joqin shrugged, "That too I guess."

Soka knocked back her drink, swallowing almost half of it before placing it down with an aggressive clink, sighing to herself. Joqin took minute sips, drinking slowly as he watched her crumble to frustration. Whenever Soka drank, her emotions become amplified and she mostly gets angry.

"I know for a fact that you were having too much fun with Okiver and Blaise. Why do you seem like someone just pissed in your drink?"

Soka frowned at Joqin's use of words. "It's just so... unfair. I would say."

Joqin raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue as he drank some more.

Soka grumbled to her self as she picked up her cup and tipped more into her mouth, wiping her lips harshly. "Those Senators are just such pieces of bantha shit sometimes. They think their words are approved by the high or something!"

Joqin chuckled, "And?"

"And- and they don't believe Clones deserve rights like the rest of us!" Soka's fists clenched and unclenched around the glass.

She finished the rest of her drink and moved to bite the cup, but Joqin quickly replaced her glass cup with a sugar cup. Soka chewed angrily on the sugar champagne glass, her sharp teeth scraping against the hard surface and giving her skin jitters.

"So you are angry because the Senators believe that Clones shouldn't have rights purely because they were used for the war?"

Soka nodded mutely, her face twisted into a sour look. She nibbled a small dent into her sugar cup before adding more of the drink into her cup.

"Is there anything you are going to do to help the clones?" Joqin asked after a brief moment of silence.

Soka chewed at the edge of the cup, thinking over her response. "Well, I could go to 79's and try to get information on the rights they want? Some proof that they are good helping people to the society and that they deserve the rights?"

Even though he didn't really understand the ways of a Senator, Joqin still smiled warmly, trying to encourage her, "Exactly. Now get your sheb out there and make some noise."

Soka nodded, a newfound determination filling her veins. "Yeah! Yeah I think I will."

Soka gripped her sugar champagne glass tightly within her fingers. "Can you drive me though? I still technically need a guard."

Joqin chuckled, "Don't worry, I've got a spare already decked and ready in the garages."

Soka grinned toothily at him. "I'll buy you a drink there, I know you like the strawberry fizz."

"You know damn well I do." Joqin moved swiftly out to the elevator, twirling the keys on his finger. "Let's get this show on the road."

ᯓ★

and chapter one is finished! this is a bit of a doozy as these first handful of chapters are the backstory to soka's life and building up her character, though i will be going fast-ish so we can get to the main plot asap.

as much as i LOVE writing, writing doesnt always love me and makes me write some things that doesnt entirely make sense and are a bit shoddy sounding, so dont be shy to give some CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.

yes soka's character is supposed to be silly and child-like and emotional and fast-minded because she was forced to mature quickly in order to get into the senator business as young as possible, so she's going to revert sometimes and be a bit of a comedic relief. if you dont like that, then this isnt the story for you and i recommend you find a new story and not slander soka for being a bit goofy.

have a good day and dont forget to drink water! :D

taglist: @callsign-denmark

if you want to be tagged, just comment your username below and say "i want to be tagged"

#star wars #tbb #soka writes things #tbb echo #fanfic #fairytale library #soka-writes-things #star wars fanfiction #tbb crosshair #tbb fanfiction #tbb hunter #sw tbb #tbb omega #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #electric sparks

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kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

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Valentine’s Day Angst: Scarlet Red (Chrollo x reader)

2.3K words

Happy Valentine's Day! This is the angst story that ended up being pretty dark. It mentions massacre and death (covers the Kurta massacre for context) so if you don't want to read it, this one might not be for you. The rest of the story is under the cut, I hope you enjoy!

You were with Chrollo for a few months, and it was almost dreamlike. He appeared in your life one day when you were looking for antique accessories and he happened to be doing the same. You two reached for the same ring and that was where your relationship started. He introduced himself and you did as well, then you asked if he was a local to your small town right next to the forest in Lukso province.

“I happen to be visiting that’s all,” he said. “I was hoping I could explore the town a bit better, perhaps you could help me.”

You never expected yourself to meet such a handsome and polite man in your life so you didn’t hesitate to show him around. You took him to your favorite café, a bookstore that you used to go since you were a young child, and the outskirts of the town. It was located in a forest known for its wildflowers but also a strange tribe that lived far into it.

“Apparently they don’t allow any outsiders close by, so I was never allowed to go in,” you explained. “They’re a prosecuted group, exiled from their old home and trying to find a place to live around here.”

Chrollo nodded. “I think they were called the Kurta, were they not?”

“Yes, wow I didn’t think you would know about them. They’re a bit obscure, not speaking the same language as any of us either,” you replied.

The man explained he had a fascination with all kinds of obscure things, especially languages. He was in the process of learning the Kurta language, which he was now able to read. It was wonderful in your opinion, as up until then you were dead sure on not telling him all the truths about you.

A Kurta, if they manage to pass multiple exams, is allowed to live outside of the designated safe area. Outside of the protection of the sun, to put it into the words of the Kurta elder. You happened to be one of them, a survivor in a sense as you couldn’t bare the enticing new world outside of what you knew in those woods. Though it meant you could lose track of your village as they were nomadic and had no means of communication other than through the elder, you decided to leave once and for all to pursue your dream of exploration. You didn’t make it that far, as you found yourself happy in the town right next to the forest, working in a small café while finishing your studies at a local university.

Chrollo likely knew about this, however. Perhaps it was your mannerisms, the way you would avoid eye contact when he was only a few inches away from you. You closed your eyes when you had to calm yourself down, and you seemed to be a nen user, though you were unaware of it. These were all signs that you grew up outside of the norms of a regular town, you likely grew up in an obscure setting like he did. Chrollo was on the lookout for the Kurta, mainly because of the price tag on their scarlet eyes, but also to deliver a holy word to the world and the tribe. Something had occurred between the Meteor and the Kurta, and the only way he felt they could settle the dispute was through the Meteorites (citizens of Meteor City) law: We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.

His fascination with the Kurta was interesting, so you ended up filling him in the details of what the tribe was like, how the woods were like, and why you all thought living in a nomadic life was good. He took in all of the information, even taking some notes in a notepad you gave him. He learned the language quickly, soon being able to greet you in Kurta. It felt like you were back home, perhaps the elder would accept him into the tribe if you two ever got...no you were thinking too far.

You were getting ready for Valentine’s Day, a holiday you never found yourself to be specifically a fan of. You didn’t like how so many shops used this as a marketing tactic sure, but you also felt lonely when you saw friends and couples celebrating their bonds together. You remembered those days when you would make flower crowns with your friends in the village, though the concept of Valentine’s Day was not one celebrated in your tribe. But with Chrollo in your life now, it seemed right to celebrate the occasion with him. He was dating you, though he never said those exact words. You two had shared your first kiss together on New Year’s, you two fell asleep watching a movie together, and so on. He even presented to you a bouquet a few weeks ago, flowers specifically from the woods that you rarely visited.

“Chrollo, I wanted to celebrate with you, you know, that we’re together,” you said to him while you two were sitting together on a park bench. He was reading a book on the Kurta at the moment, and he wasn’t wearing his usual outfit. It was one you had never seen before, one that perhaps fit with his mysterious aura: it was a purple coat with an upside down cross. He was one that used to wear fairly modest clothing, choosing for a vest and simple pants or even a t-shirt on some occasions. He always had a head injury, at least that’s what you thought the reason was for him covering his forehead.

Chrollo looked at you, a smile on his lips as he asked “Oh, you want to do something for Valentine’s?” He closed his book, turning his full attention to you. “Did my dearest want something as a gift?”

“Ah, no I’m honestly good with anything,” you fidgeted in your seat, once again avoiding eye contact. You were wearing colored contacts, but he knew that. “I, er, I guess anything red would work, right? It fits with the theme.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah, I’m not that picky you know that!”

Chrollo let out a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around you as you two sat in silence once again. “I’ll get you something nice, something I’m sure you’ll hold close to your heart,” he said. You felt your heartbeat race a bit; ah he was too kind!

“Look forward to your gift as well, Chrollo!”

He disappeared for a week. It was strange, it was only a few days before Valentine’s, but he had disappeared completely. There was no trace of him, no calls received, nothing. You worried that perhaps he got into trouble, besides you knew he wasn’t one to stay in a place for a long time, you heard he was a world traveler. But you also worried that perhaps he ditched you, maybe he was a complete asshole, and you didn’t expect it. Looking at the nice dinner you had set up for the two of you, you sighed and tried to not think too hard about it. You had worn your favorite outfit, made a meal that you thought would fit his palate (apparently, he could eat anything and everything) and even got him a gift: a book from his favorite author. You felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands, wondering if you should send one more text asking if he’s alright. Then, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

“Chrollo!” you opened the door to see your lover holding a large box in his hands. My goodness, he must’ve saved up a lot for what looked like an expensive item. Not wanting him to stay in the cold longer, you led him into the dining room.

“Sorry darling, I was busy with some work,” he said as he took off his coat. It was the same one from before, the strange one with the upside down cross. He looked worn out, and, perhaps you had great senses, something on him smelled like iron.

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re here!” you said, kissing him on the cheek. He didn’t seem like he was out of breath at all, but he seemed happy about something. Perhaps it was that you two were celebrating together, at least you hoped that was why he was happy.

You two were enjoying dinner together when he brought up his background. It was an interesting tale, one that was filled with his hopes and dreams for a better world. He vowed that he was going to take down those who had wronged him in the past, a sort of revenge plot that you didn’t expect from such a calm man.

“Ah, but don’t get yourself in trouble, I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt,” you said, holding your glass of wine a little tighter. He laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine as long as I have you,” he took your open hand in his. Chrollo was so comforting at times, it didn’t seem right that he had such a storm brewing in his head about revenge and fighting.

“You see...I’m from Meteor City.”

You looked up at him, wondering where you heard that name. It was a few years ago, the elder said something about a Meteor and someone in the tribe. You remembered something along the lines of “stay away.”

“Oh...what’s it like? I’ve never really heard of it,” you lied, wondering if it was true that Meteorites were terrifying people.

“It’s pretty normal, most people there have big dreams that can’t be achieved alone. We try to work as a collective,” he explained. “It’s like the Kurta, is it not?”

“What do you mean?”

“You all take care of each other, even if it means risking your life you protect your loved ones from harm. You have a hard time accepting those who are outsiders, unlike Meteor City, but in the end, you find yourselves surrounded by people that might not be the same. You let them into your tribe, though it’s easy to see who’s not capable of turning their eyes red.”

“You...you know about the scarlet eyes,” you felt your heartbeat speeding up, it was strange that he knew so much. Didn’t he say he wasn’t familiar with them? And what did he mean by...you? Sure, you told him some information about the Kurta but you never went in-depth about the red eyes.

“It’s getting late, I need to go make sure my friends are alright, we had a rough night. Let me at least open your present, I want to see you open yours as well,” his words snapped you out of your thoughts and you awkwardly handed him your gift.

Chrollo opened it smoothly, his slender fingers wrapping around the ribbon and undoing it. He saw the book cover, gave you a content smile and thanked you. He kissed you on the head, a gesture he hadn’t done before.

“Now, I want to see you open yours.”

With a nervous shake, you took the top of the box off. There wasn’t much in there, but it looked like there was a glass case with two floating objects inside. You were confused, it looked like a haphazard aquarium. Chrollo explained it was done quickly so it might not last very long and to replace the glass with something better if you wanted. Was it a fish? Finally, you took the whole glass object out.

“Chrollo,” you breathed out, your breath shaking. “What...what kind of a twisted joke is this?”

“You said you wanted something red, and I figured it would be something close to you, y/n.”

You let out a cold laugh, feeling tears and a burning rage suddenly fill your heart. Chrollo sat on the opposite end of the table, quietly smiling to himself. You finally looked up, seeing his exposed forehead for the first time. A cross, what an ironic symbol. To you, it felt like you had been tricked by the devil, fitting of his outfit.

“Is...is this...” tears fell from your eyes. You wanted to throw the glass at him, cursing at him for how he used you. “You sick bastard.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one that helped me locate your people, it was wonderful getting to learn about your history as well,” he stood up, gently reaching a hand out to you. You didn’t bother taking it, you wanted to slap it away but had no energy to do anything other than stare at whoever’s eyes were staring back into yours. Was it your mother’s? A friend’s?

Chrollo picked you up, embracing you gently before placing a kiss on your temple.

“It was great knowing you; I had a lot of fun. I don’t know if you feel the same way anymore but understand I will welcome you with open arms if you choose to be with me.”

“Go to hell.”

He was gone after that. You didn’t even see him leave, you only heard the door close as he walked away, thanking you for the book. You sat on the floor, clutching onto whoever it was that was in your hands. You sobbed, words forming in your mouth and then disappearing. You felt like you were responsible for whatever happened to your clan, were they safe? No, from the looks of it, it seemed like he went after not just one Kurta but the entire village.

A few days later, you turned off your tv. The news was repeating the same story about a village in the middle of the woods, one that was massacred. The killers left a message that was too familiar to you: “We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.”

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #dark #angst #chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #kurta #valentine's day

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 months

Text

“Blessed”

Pairing: Éowyn/Faramir

Others: Aragorn

Themes: Soft | Fluff

Warnings: Nothing

Wordcount: 500+ words

Summary: Faramir speaks with Aragorn on the day of his wedding to Éowyn.

This ficlet was inspired by @thelien-art piece on Faramir and Éowyn.

Also available on AO3

Aragorn came to his chambers at the appointed hour. “The others have all gathered in the Court of the Fountain. Come, my friend, let us not keep them waiting.”

Faramir joined his king as they made their way down the long, vaulted halls he once played in as a child. “Never would I have considered such a day possible, your grace,” he pondered aloud. “And with such a lady, no less.”

“The Valar have indeed blessed you,” the king remarked, smiling. “Éowyn is a fine woman and a fierce warrior. She will make you a splendid wife.”

The steward smiled in return, his sense of anticipation only growing when two sentries opened the high, wide doors to the gardens. There were guests aplenty: members of the new king’s court, nobles from Rohan, even the queen’s brothers. Elladan and Elrohir were to remain in the city for a while before they left on one final hunt to cleanse the lands of Sauron’s fell servants.

And then they will join their grandfather and follow their father and grandmother on the watery path they took to the Blessed Realm. Faramir wondered if Arwen would miss her brothers dearly. He knew he missed his own, and fresh grief clenched in his heart when he realized Boromir did not live to witness their great victories or what came after.

I wish he were here, Faramir thought while he walked toward the White Tree. I wish Boromir was here to share my joy. Father too.

Faramir mourned his father as much as he mourned his brother. No one told him of Denethor’s end or the manner in which it came about until much later, after he had left the house of healing and was strong of heart.

“I wish you and Lady Éowyn nothing but joy in the many years to come,” Aragorn said, before turning to join his wife and the others that stood to bear witness to the exchanging of vows.

“My thanks, your grace,” Faramir returned, before turning to face the city elder who would preside over the exchanging of their vows. Then a minstrel strummed a soft refrain on his harp, a signal that the bride was making her way to the groom. Faramir found himself overcome with joy. It only grew when he turned to see Éowyn walking toward him, her arm around her brother’s.

She is as fair as the queen herself. Éowyn was garbed in white, with no other adornment save for a belt of pearls wrought in gold. Her eyes were fixed on her intended husband’s, as bright and warm as the summer sky. Faramir was enraptured.

“Greetings, husband mine,” the lady smiled, her face flushed with excitement.

“Greetings, my darling wife," answered Faramir, bowing respectfully to both her and her brother. Éomer bowed gravely before placing a kiss on his sister's cheek.

"I wish you nothing but happiness," the king of Rohan whispered, before he too turned to join the others.

When she placed her hand in Faramir’s they turned to face the elder. He beamed at them while he wrapped a delicate white sash around their hands, binding them together in the sights of the Exalted Ones and all those who had gathered in the courtyard. Then the ceremony truly began.

#valentine event #faramir #Éowyn #Faramir x Éowyn #lord of the rings #💫a world of whimsy writes #writing challenge #fanfiction

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bts5sosempire · 2 years

Text

as yours (xi); gift of you

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,977

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, comedy, a hint of violence, college au, mention of gang fighting/ involvement, a sprinkle of angst (future updates), cursing and swearing, slow-burn relationship, SIMPKUNA

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "as a child, you have harbored a massive crush on Itadori Yuji; it wasn't until that college happened you dared to ask him. Trying to give him a letter, the one who you ended up giving to was no other than his no-good twin brother, Sukuna Ryomen."

𝐚/𝐧: I made the chapter shorter on purpose; I will start extending them once I think it's necessary. Plus we've been waiting for so long on these sukuna and Mc to get together, so it won't be long. I will also start going into sukuna's background later too.

chapter 10 ✿ chapter 12

You don't remember much after blacking out from shock; by the time you have woken up, Sukuna had already filled in both your parents with great details of a beautiful lying story that would make them stop questioning him. Sukuna had also decided to get the police involved since he controlled the majority of the stations in Japan. Giving another elaborate story of lies, too, to soothe your parents, who are probably going to gray faster than any elders in a retirement home.

But after a while, there was a dreamy look in his eyes, locked away and vacant. It was only when Sukuna had volunteered to stay overnight, after convincing your parents to leave that he would keep an eye out on you and Haruna, that he came out of his generosity mask.

"Why did you do that?" He spoke softly, looking at the hospital's plain gray carpet, "You could've died; I could've lost you there." Sukuna wasn't known for being vulnerable; he was known for being steadfast and a pillar of strength; it was rare for him to drop his sarcastic personality. You could've said you were surprised to see him like that, but you just kept your mouth shut. "You didn't trust me to bring her back?" That was when you shot your head up at him.

"I-I...It's not that I don't trust you," meekly trying to convey your words; you almost forgot the reason why you went after Sukuna, but hearing him bringing it up made you anxious. Not in the way where it makes you want to hide, where you feel like a child being reprimanded, but it's the feeling of disappointment that gnaws at your chest. Sukuna lifts his heavy strawberry eyes at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. "There was a sinking feeling I felt when you left; I didn't like it." Sukuna felt a rouse of emotions only you could illicit from their slumber when he heard those words; they rumble around his chest like fire; although you weren't entirely done with what you were saying. "I thought that would be the last time I see you." You utter the last sentence in a hush manner, your eyes now looking anywhere but him. "It was also in that moment I had an epiphany," you fiddle with the hem of the hospital blanket, feet shifting underneath, "that I quite like you for a while now."

If that last sentence didn't kill him immediately, he would've thought he was hallucinating. Sukuna was looking at you with wide eyes; he didn't expect a confession out of all times, too stunned to speak that he didn't realize his lips parts in disbelief.

"But who knew I would be the one who ended up crippled in bed, you know?" you joke out, nervous laughter leaving your lips—ears burning brighter than any shades of red. Your heart was shaking. *'I knew he likes me, so I doubt that-'* Your thoughts were cut off when Sukuna walked towards your bed.

"I better not be dreaming. Can you repeat it?" His delicate hands cup your face gently, making you look into his strawberry orbs with gold flecks that almost resemble seeds. You thought you imagined things when you spotted a dusty hue across his face like a blush. Putting a hand on Sukuna's wrist, you could feel the pulse resounding so vigorously underneath the skin that it repeated in thunderous motion. Sukuna trains his eyes to watch every nerve on your face to see any reaction.

The words of request from Sukuna loom over, and you let out a groan as you try to twist away and fall back into bed while trying to pull the blanket over your head. Sukuna wouldn't let you do that; he removed it each time you successfully pulled it back. The mini fight went on a few more times before you gave up and whined at him, face still hot. "I don't want to say it; leave me alone."

Sukuna laughed, "I'll make you say it later." Immediately scrunching your nose at him, you turn your head away with a sassy 'hmph.' Sukuna eased his strong arms around your form and laid his chin on your shoulder. He was smiling from ear to ear; any problems from earlier that had plagued him suddenly vanished into thin air. None of those matters right now, not when the moment you both have created was more magical and worth the attention than anything else. He'll deal with it later. This was probably the best Christmas he could've gotten.

Since you have sealed the deal of confessing and telling Sukuna you like him, now he's even more than a parasitic leech, even if it was only two days later. It was impossible to get rid of him in all aspects. If his soul could join your body, you doubt he wouldn't hesitate to jump the gun for that wish. Another thing is to make things official; you could tell that he was vibrating with happiness underneath all those heavy dark clothes that made him off-putting, but once he was alone with you, everything did a turn.

There was no more teasing and jesting you in the meantime, but you know it's short-lived. Although did he take Yuji's personality or something along the trip? Sukuna brought you things you might need (via its feminine care, skin care, and clothing, plus stuff he didn't buy for you as Christmas gifts as it seems to slip his mind somehow) but seeing it was a famous name brand, you almost choked on air. You remember searching these out of curiosity, and seeing the price made you instantly close the app. Now they're right here and in front of your face.

You: "I ask for my stuff, not these."

Sukuna: "You're not going around wearing and putting cheap stuff on yourself."

You: "They still work the same as any other brands."

Sukuna: "Statistics said-"

You: "Okay, now shut the fuck up, Einstein."

Sukuna only chuckles, you raise your hands to him, and he pulls you out of bed. Your cold feet touched the floor, and you went to the bathroom to change. The doctor said you were good to go after all your injuries were just minors, laying off of going to college for a few days. Speaking of college, you wonder what your attendance and grades are doing.

Your parents wanted to wait to take you home with your sister, but since Sukuna had once again interjected that he would be doing the honor of taking you home after a note of discharge from your doctors, your parents relented so. What kind of magic words does he have that your parents won't be fighting tooth and nails for you?

You reached into your pants pocket out of habit and forgot that you didn't bring your house keys with you when you left out in a rush after Sukuna those days ago. Begrudgingly pressing the doorbell, your mother opens the door and throws her arms around you, and pulls you inside while tugging Sukuna at the feeder. It's not like Sukuna would refuse; after all, your mother was very grateful that a gentleman like Sukuna would look after you for two days in a row.

"Make yourself at home," your mother's chirpy personality came back to life as all those blue days passed as clouds on a sunny day. "You can do those stuff there, next to the couch, Sukuna." You look over at the dining table and see your father has Haruna perched on his lap; he happily lets his youngest feed him. Haruna, who had suffered much more than you, looked happy to be back in an environment where she felt the safest; you wonder if anything else changed.

"Haruna!" You call out to your sister, who perks up at her name. She made a mad dash towards you. Your hands were on your knees as you were getting ready to catch her once she was near enough, but she made a beeline towards Sukuna. "'Kuna!" Haruna shouted in glee, motioning her hands up for Sukuna to pick her up, and Sukuna being the awful optimistic bastard he is, does so while giving you the smuggest smile he could, and you, in return, turn around slowly and provide the ugliest judgmental manifestation of your face could make.

'Is this betrayal that I felt in my chest?' Before you could do anything dramatic, your mother told you guys to come and sit down to eat. There were discussions here and there on the table; you have yet to ask your parents about switching Haruna to another daycare. But since you didn't want to damper the mood, your father had switched the topic to open the presents that had been sitting under the tree for the last couple of days. The presents weren't touched yet as they were still in their position; you and Haruna were seated on the ground while your parents were sitting on the couch along with Sukuna.

You were relaxing back as your body leaned in between Sukuna's legs. He was watching intently about the gift your parents brought and was taking notes about your likes and dislikes. There were suspicious snickering sounds from your parents, so you suddenly turned around to meet them, "Can I help you both?"

Your mother giggles to your father while slapping his arm playfully, acting like a high school girl. "Don't mind your father and me; we're just admiring the view from over here." More snickering fills the room as you realize what they mean; you move your body forward away from Sukuna, who pulls you back into place.

"You didn't mind it earlier; why now?" Sukuna joined with your parents to embarrass you and only shouted at him to stop as you wanted to beat him up so severely with the gift in your hand.

Your mother: "Honey, we should take Haruna and leave the love birds to entertain themselves, should we?"

You: "Mom! We are not like that!"

Sukuna: "Yet."

You: "Shut up; they don't need to know!"

"Seems like our eldest has grown up." Cue your father's fake crying as he was happily pulling your mother up and taking Haruna, "We should get ready for a third child after the eldest left to get married."

"You guys are so annoying!" Disliking the teasing, they start shooting more your way.

Once Sukuna walks through his flat, he hands the food for Uraume to put away while shrugging off his oversized coat and hanging it on a hook. "Sukuna-sama, we were informed about an hour ago that Majima had committed suicide while in his cell." The man stops what he is doing but resumes while doing it at a slower pace than before.

Peace wasn't an option today for Sukuna either, "How did he die?"

Uraume: "Rat poison ingestion."

Sukuna remembered what Majima had said before he knocked all his teeth out and made his face swollen to unrecognized. Sukuna's godfather, Shinichiro Byakuya, a former four Kingpin in Japan, retired less than a decade ago. Despite being retired, he still holds a great deal of Japan in fear.

Shinichiro handed the torch to Sukuna at the tender age of twelve while guiding him; seeing Sukuna have so much potential and natural influences throughout the country could make Sukuna so much more than him; after all, he's all he ever hoped for as his progeny, despite not having any blood relation to him. To him, Sukuna was his prized possession. Shinichiro taught Sukuna how to fish; now it's time for him to catch and eat the bigger one.

In the end, one of the former kingpins didn't kill his incompetent flesh and blood and put Sukuna on the blood throne for a reason, right?

#fan fiction #jujustu kaisen x reader #masterlist #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk toji #anime #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk #jjk angst #jjk nanami #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen: as yours (series)

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i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper · 11 months

Text

The life - Brienne x Faerys

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Visual of Faerys

Master list

Prompts: 40. “I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.”

Warnings: Angst, description of violence.

Words: 2.596

"You know I would move heavens and earth for you my little flame. Tell me what troubles you so."

"It's Viserys." She spoke quietly. Eldest sibling got confused. "What about him little one?" There was no mistaking bite in her voice, Faerys knew her brother has changed since their exile. But for Daenerys to look so scared of him. He messed up. Big time. "He wants me to marry one of Dothraki Khals." That was it, eldest one saw red at those words. "He. What." Anger, blinding, boiling, unmistakable in her voice. But at the sight of her little sister flinching Faerys forced herself to calm down. "I'm sorry my little flame. I didn't mean to frighten you. But I need to know. Did you accept?" Voice much gentler than before. She nodded. "I didn't have any other choice. He is to be king, and for that he needs army. The one I can provide by marrying a powerful man." She spoke. If Faerys was angry before she is absolutely livid now. But forcing herself to a calm state of mind yet again for the sake of not scaring her little sister. "You are already promised to him? How come I knew nothing of it?" Daenerys shook in her place, thinking she was about to be struck. "He told me not to mention it to you."

That was it. Red line has been crossed.

Gritting her teeth Faerys just nodded. "I see. I'm going to rest now my little flame, have nice day, and please do take some rest yourself." Faerys spoke as she hugged and kissed crown of her sisters head.

Daenerys appreciated softness her sister gave, always being gentler one of the siblings. Faerys was always the one to care and comfort Daenerys, no matter what, no matter how late in the night she came her arms were always widely spread and ready to engulf her in her comfort.

As soon as she was out of eyesight Faerys bolted for her brother's chambers. Bursting in without knocking se spoke. "You were going to give our sister away to some brute?!" Faerys was livid. "She told you? That little..." He spoke as he went for the door but was stopped with hand around his neck that pushed him back. "Yes. She told me, and you will not do anything. Unless you wish for broken bone that is." "How dare you speak to me in such manner. I am the King."

"Any man who must say, I am the king, is no true king. Do I need to remind you insolent child who is the elder one here. Just because I don't want the throne does not mean I won't take it from you if you continue being oppressor." He went deep red. "You dare-" "Yes. I fucking dare, because I am the one who wiped your ass, and took care of you. So you will shut your trap before I shut it, and speak when spoken to. Meaning I ask questions you answer. Understood." He knew better than to challenge his sister. She had quite a temper, so he nodded. "Now. You promised our sister. The light of my eyes and happiness of my heart to a dothraki savage. Do you care to explain why."

"He will give us his army. We can take our throne back with it."

"Oh. So it's our throne now, as far as I remember it was your throne until few moments ago. But my question still stands. Why. The. FUCK. Didn't. I. Know?" Faerys seemed more threatening than ever, her eyes nearly in slits, voice taking growling quality. Resembling a dragon more than a human in that moment. "Because you wouldn't allow it and we would loose perfectly good bargain." As soon as those words came out of his mouth Viserys hunched over, swift punch to the gut delivered by his sister sent him in to coughing fit grabbing his neck and pinning him to the wall. "OUR sister is not a bargaining chip you little shit, and what happened to others being inferior to OUR blood? Did you traumatize my sister with the thought of marrying you just to sell her like common WHORE?!" Faerys physical state is a mirror of her emotional one, veins on her forehead and neck protruding and pulsating, her jaw clenching and unclenching. Breathing erratic as she growled at her brother.

"You will call it off." She finished letting him drop onto his knees. "I can't." He wheezed. "What." Tone eerily calm. "I can't. She's promised to him, if we don't give her to him. He will find us and take her by force treating her worse than if she just accepted it." Seeing sense in his words and indeed it being hard situation. She nodded. "BUT. If she is hurt in anyway by him. You better find good spot to hide." With that Faerys went to her room.

Soon the day of ceremony came. The man that Faerys came to know as Drogo didn't seem to heavy on the eyes, but still...

"You seem concerned, my lady." Ser Jorah spoke, and she smiled. She found comfort in mans kind face and gentle voice. "How can I not be? My sister is off to marry complete stranger, and I can't do anything about it. I am the eldest of my family I was supposed to protect her." Faerys spoke but Jorah shook his head. "This is no fault of yours. From what I heard you didn't even know about it until few days ago. Stopping it then would cause great consequences for everyone included." Girl smiled and nodded.

The time of gifting the bride came, so Faerys stepped out. Her head held high as she presented her gift. A necklace, a dragon with greenish brown eyes. Pulling on her neckline Faerys showed off her own dragon with sky blue eyes. Daenerys knew meaning of her gift and nodded in gratitude. When she stepped back and stood beside Jorah he spoke. "That is a fine gift my lady, I hope you don't mind my asking but where did you acquire it?" She smiled and spoke "I made it. Took a long time about two weeks. But it payed off, I thought what better occasion that this to give it to her." The astounded look on knight's face was priceless and something she would remember for a long time.

Months passed, Daenerys fell more and more in love with her husband and soon...

"I'm gonna be an aunt? I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT?!" Tears of happiness prickled her eyes as younger girl smiled giddily and nodded. In matter of seconds she was lifted off the ground and twirled in the air. "Yes. You are gonna be an aunt." She knew how much Faerys loved children but this child was her own flesh and blood so it's even more special to her. From that day on eldest Targaryen would spend hours beside her sister. Hugging her, comforting her, petting her stomach and kissing it. Whispering to the baby and talking to it, promising the world and more to it. Truly and well in love with it even before it was born. Relationship between her and her brother in law improved significantly. They were friends, often joking with one another and teaming up against Daenerys in their teasing. Viserys was growing distant, insulting Danny much more and earning himself sharp glares sometimes even smacks from Faerys. But nothing could prepare the girl on the sight of her brother writhing in pain as molten gold burned his face and entered his inside. She was in shock but also pain. No matter what, how he acted and spoke, how he was towards her or anyone else. That was her baby brother, the very one she gently rocked in her arms and sang songs to. The one whom she played with and whose smile brightened her day before this world corrupted him. So she turned and left her soul burning with pain and anguish. Old memories rushing back, old wounds springing open. After she calmed she came back and spoke to her sister. Neither of them even thinking what future might bring.

Days turned into nights, and soon... It was day like any other that is until one of the Dothraki challenged Drogo wounding him, one of the witches offered her help but it was a trap. The man's wound got infected and as a result of blood magic preformed by the witch he got in to a state that was worse than death.

As Faerys walked in to the tent she saw Daenerys closing in on Drogo with a pillow in her hands understanding her sisters wish, she gently caught her wrists and took the pillow. "Why don't you take a walk my little flame." She spoke in gentlest of voices. As she walked out Faerys walked to the man. "Hello Drogo." He just stared at her but his eyes filled with sadness. "I will take care of her. I promise." As she finished that sentence she hit his throat as hard as she could, giving him swift and painless death.

The flames were wilding and burning everything, without a thought in her head Faerys rushed to protect her sister running into the flames. But they didn't burn her as she expected, no. They felt comforting as they licked her skin. Soon finding her sister also unharmed she rushed to her and enveloped her in a hug. Soon small cries were heard and two girls felt something brushing their skin as they looked down they saw four little dragons. Babies. Soon fire died down and people cheered when they saw that we were unharmed.

Three dragons were constantly following Danny but one of them... One of them was practically bound to Faerys with maternal cord. Never straying too far from her. It was night black she dragon with starlike spots on her and blood red eyes. Truly a beauty in her own right. So she deserved name worthy of her, she was named Layan.

Time passed, dragons grew exponentially so. All of them developing certain characters. While Drogon is less reliant on the other three and more headstrong and independent. He’s not aggressive, but he definitely goes his own way. Rhaegal is the most outwardly aggressive and ill-tempered. He fights with the others over food, Viserion is generally the mellowest of the three. Faerys and Danny would often call him lazy as a joke. Then there was Layan gentle and kind, always on Faerys shoulder when she was small, and when she grew she allowed Faerys to tuck herself in to dragons soft, warm belly as gentle giant wrapped her tail around her like protective blanket.

Many slaves were freed during years that have passed, Faerys even though older than her sister, surrendered throne willingly and instead was at her sister's side as her advisor. So when Jon Snow came speaking of walkers coming for the wall she was first to encourage Danny to hear him out, when conclusion came and they agreed on Daenerys coming to Winterfell, she marched along her sister.

Winterfell gates opened and soldiers walked in, Faerys saw unwelcoming faces of Northerners, but didn't take it to heart. Jon did warn them of the wairiness his people possessed towards outsiders. So she didn't give it much thought, when he said his hello to his family, he introduced us. His sister was a little bit cold towards Danny as she spoke. But again elder Targaryen understood what these people went trough and couldn't really blame them for their wariness. "It is honour to meet flesh and blood of the honorable." Faerys spoke as she bowed her head, at this Sansa smiled slightly and other lords seemed to lower their guard.

A man told them of the faith that befell Viserion, while both sisters felt their hearts shake and freeze in pain, Faerys decided to have some alone time as soon as her greetings were over. While Daenerys decided to keep those emotions for later in confines of her own chambers.

Soon the meeting of the lords started and all pledged their allegiance. The shock of Jamie Lannister coming to honour his promise of helping was surprise to everyone. He was accepted in to ranks and given instructions on what to do.

Brienne was taking a walk when she heard loud growl. It came from clearing nearby.

"We can't Layan, you know that. People might get scared and we don't need that girl." Faerys was trying to argue with dragon that obviously wanted to take off to the sky. But instead of hearing another complain from she dragon, Faerys was circled by her tail and loud growl emitted from deep within dragons chest as she glared into the forest in front of her.

A woman walked out with her hands in the air, she was exceptionally tall, with sandy yellow hair and./. Eyes bluer than the sea that surrounds Tarth. Soon it was like kick in to the face. Woman standing in front of Faerys was the very one who occupied her mind since she left Tarth.

"Faerys?" Came soft voice, barely loud enough to be heard. But no verbal answer came from silver haired woman, no. Only reply Brienne got was hard pull in to another's arms, and arms circling her but that was enough. Soon lady of Tarth returned the hug just as hard. Not believing that her friend was indeed alive and well.

Minutes turned in to hours as Faerys and Brienne spoke of their life up until that point. Layan became considerably calmer with Brienne when she saw that the woman posed no threat, even asking for pets. Which Faerys found very adorable, the fact that Brienne of Tarth petting a dragon like she would common hound and even more so when said dragon was constantly leaning in to her hand and slightly kicking his left leg. "She likes you. Very much so." Faerys spoke with slight smile and Brienne nodded smiling back giddily. Targaryen was glad that former somber mood that was brought by past and her words was extinguished.

“I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.” Those were words that Faerys spoke and that brought onslaught of unpleasant memories of her family dying and what was left of it being nearly killed multiple times. That was the moment when Layan decided to come in and ask for pets from Faerys and Brienne which brought them into their current situation. After seeing wide smile on the face of Brienne she decided to make it even wider. Bowing she then spoke "Would you care for a flight my lady." Face that Brienne made was priceless her mouth hung open as her eyes winded. She nodded nonetheless and soon they found themselves, high in the sky, Brienne's arms around Faerys waist holding on to her so she doesn't fall off. Laugh that emitted from blondes lips made Faerys wish it never stops.

"This is beautiful." Brienne spoke. "It indeed is my friend. Indeed is."

They landed after some time and when Faerys helped Brienne down from the dragon the latter spoke. "You just completely demolished horse riding for me." Laughing Faerys shook her head.

"You are welcome to come and ride with me any day."

"You do realize I am going to take you up on that offer as often as I can right?" Eldest Targaryen nodded with a smile.

#brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne the beauty #game of thrones #got #angst #oc #original female character #platonic love #romantic love #daenerys targeryan

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