#''tell me if he ends up not being dead i think we should sit down and talk about this''

[worstloki]

sigyn that married loki like ages ago so when it comes out he's jotun she's like. 'well it's a bit late to do anything about that'

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | PART ONE

Simon’s heavy footsteps echo in your ears, the floor boards of the church creaking as he walked. At least he was courteous enough to help you into the carriage, you thought as you grabbed onto his large glove covered outstretched hand letting him guide you inside before getting in himself and sitting on the plump cushion seating opposite you.

The footman closed the door just as your families came out to throw flower petals and wave you off. The sight of them so happy made you more glum than this whole day had.

“Well that was a dreadfully boring ceremony.” Simon quipped, leaning his head back as the carriage started moving. Your gaze did not move from your parents, their smiles made you grimace.

“It’s rather sad that I couldn’t be entertained at my own wedding. Wouldn’t you agree wife?” The man across from you had almost snarled out the word wife.

You simply roll your eyes at him, something he does not take kindly to.

“If I had been in the country when this was all being arranged, I could’ve stopped this from ever happening in the first place. I wouldn’t be shackled down in this ridiculous sham of a marriage!” He snaps, the scar on his chin that goes right through his lips and stops at his Cupids bow, moves with each word he spits your way, fire in his eyes as he does so.

“Trust me the feelings mutual.” You scoff, snapping back at him.

“Oh, I’m well aware wife. I could tell as much as soon as I lifted your veil and saw the scowl on your face.” He chuckles with no humour, it’s dark and unnerving causing you to shift in your seat. “How fortunate I am to have such a beautiful bride” The sarcasm drips from his lips in a way that makes your blood boil but you manage to bite your tongue even if he seems unable to.

“Even when he’s dead, my bastard father still finds ways to meddle in my life. Arranging a marriage behind my back, of all things.” The leather of his gloves squeak when his fists tighten in anger.

“Well, it’s no matter. As long as we pretend for the next three months, we shall be free to live our lives separately once the London Season ends, per our families’ agreement. It should not be too difficult to accomplish such a task, will it wife?” Simon raises an eyebrow but yet somehow manages to keep the scowl on his face.

“No. Husband.” You say through gritted teeth.

He is thankfully silent for the next half an hour, and again he does help you out of the carriage when you arrive outside the manor that is now your home. You gaze up at the structure with awe, it was much bigger than your old home though your father was a Baron and Simon was a Duke.

“I’m leaving the grand tour of the estate to the housekeeper. Oh and do try to remember where everything is, I won’t be walking you to your bedroom each night, wife.” He says briskly as he walks passed you and ascends the stairs.

He pauses, snapping his fingers like he’s forgotten something before shooting over his shoulder at you, “Sleep well, dear wife. I do so look forward to seeing what excitement our marriage brings. I’ll see you bright and early for breakfast tomorrow!” He hollers back at you and so swiftly disappears inside.

“Not on your life.” You mumble to yourself, scoffing at his audacity. “What an insensitive, intolerable arse.” You sigh sitting down on the steps of your new home. You gaze out at the beautiful gardens. The night sky full of stars and a chill had set in, a sign that winter wasn’t far away.

“Excuse me Your Grace.” Looking up from where you had been admiring the patch of red tulips off to your right, you met eyes with a welcome smile.

“I am Johnny, the housekeeper. I run the house and keep all the staff in check. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Duchess.” You smile softly at him and with his help you stand from where you were on the cold steps.

“The pleasure is mine Johnny. I didn’t think there would be a kind soul here given the master of the house but it appears I am mistaken.” Johnny coughs to cover up his laugh but his smile remains.

“Allow me to escort you to your room, Your Grace, you must be exhausted after the day you’ve had.” His Scottish accent soothed you as he held his arm out for you to take. Hooking your arm with his, you let Johnny guide you inside the manor. The decor and architecture was pleasant on the eyes and by the looks of it very expensive.

Johnny leads you up the grand staircase and into the west wing where he pushed open a cream coloured door to reveal your bedroom. The room was large and painted a dark blue, the four poster bed was the biggest bed you’d ever seen in your life. The fireplace opposite the bed was lit, the wood burning nicely and crackling away creating a lovely atmosphere.

Further in just after the bed were two reading chairs facing the large window, you gaze out of it seeing the very same garden you were looking at before. Except the red tulips were right below you and from here you could see the large pond and the stables.

“Through there are your belongings.” Johnny said, pointing to the door just to the right of the bed, behind you. You had quite forgotten he was there but managed not to show how you flinched at his voice.

You nodded, “I can dress myself for bed, please do not disturb the maids. I wish to sleep now.” You communicated trying to sound as soft as you could.

“Of course Your Grace, I bid you goodnight.” Johnny bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him leaving you all alone. You’re just glad it wasn’t dark in your room. Getting changed out of your layered wedding dress and into your nightdress was a task and a half but you feel accomplished as you crawled into the large bed and snuggled down for sleep.

You are woken up bright and early just as your husband had said. Your maids got you bathed, dressed, and downstairs for breakfast in record time.

Your husband was already inside the dining room, a newspaper in his hand and a cup of tea in the other. He acknowledged you with a good morning but you only nodded back to him and sat down in your seat at the other end of the long, seats fourteen, table. Opposite one another, yet so far away.

A layer of awkwardness settled upon the moment with cutlery scratching against plates, and glasses clinking with the table being the only thing that was heard. Even the servents glanced at each other nervously, the atmosphere tense.

Simon couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. You hadn’t said a word this morning, you had a sharp scowl on your face, even the way you buttered your toast was harsh.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He tested the waters, but again you said nothing. Only responding with a nod. “Last night you spoke to me. Or is it that you prefer to mutter things to yourself? What was it you called me again? An insensitive, intolerable arse” he laughed, it was small but held such amusement.

“I must admit, I have never heard such crass language leave a proper young lady’s mouth before.” That makes you pause as you’re about to cut into a sausage, he’d heard you bad mouthing him.

Your cheeks warm with slight embarrassment but Your glare is enough to get him to change the subject, “You’ve hardly eaten your breakfast. Is the food not to your liking? Do I need to have the chef prepare another meal for you?’ At this you shake your head no but that only frustrates Simon even more. “Then might I ask if there is something troubling you?” He tries, eyes holding a curiosity that makes you want to curl in on yourself and hide.

“No” You state.

And that’s it. That’s how it continues for the next two weeks of your marriage. Where other newlyweds would be rolling around together in bed in newly wed bliss. You are avoiding your husband and barely speaking to him during meal times something he is more than happy to point out.

Simon snaps one evening after asking you once more if something is the matter, to which you responded, “What’s it to you?” He most certainly does not take kindly to your attitude.

“Well forgive me if my curiosity is somewhat piqued. You are quite talented at making yourself scarce, so I apologize if my inquiry as to what my wife is thinking is a step over your boundaries!” He slams his knife and fork down on the wooden table.

There is a pause where it seems like the whole world is silent. You stare at your husband, watching closely as he tries to calm down from his outburst. Once he takes his fourth deep breath you decide to speak.

“Do you even care?”

Simon lets out a cold laugh at your question, “Out.” He commands to the servents, they make themselves scarce, the doors shutting behind them.

“Whether I ‘even care’ or not is irrelevant. Like it or not, we are husband and wife. And for the next three months, we must at least look like it.”

“Why should that matter here?” You roll your eyes placing your knife and fork down, though much more gently than Simon did.

“You are truly ignorant if you think we don’t have to pretend even within the confines of this estate. Servants have eyes. And ears. And we have little control over what they choose to share with those outside of this household. I have no doubt word of the state of our marriage has already reached London and spread throughout the Ton.” Simon stands, his chair scratching against the floor as he does. His heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak and it reminds you of your wedding day.

“This is truly disastrous.” Simon says bitterly as he pours himself a drink of amber liquid from one of the many crystal bottles on the side table.

“I’m not exactly having the best time of my life here with you either.” You sit back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Defensive and detached.

“Oh I’m well aware, you don’t exactly hide your distaste for me well, and I would be lying if I said the feelings were not the slightest bit mutual. But it would be wise to at least learn to tolerate each other’s presence.” He barks irritatedly swirling the amber liquid around in his glass before knocking it back. The glass is finished in one big gulp, it leads him to pour another before returning to his seat.

“Now with all that settled, I would very much appreciate it if you could cooperate with me in our little endeavor, dear wife.” Simon does what you think is a smile but you’re unsure. It looks more like a vicious dog baring its teeth to you in warning before it bites.

A few moments of silence between the two of you. You didn’t want this. A loveless marriage with a man who had absolutely zero interest in you. At least he wasn’t beating you though, or worse. Your brain pushes those thoughts aside and pushes you to think about what could have been instead.

It makes your heart ache and your eyes well up with tears. The last thing you want to do is cry in front of Simon. You abruptly push your chair back and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you as you leave.

You’re panting by the time you get to your room, the tears pouring down your face as you heave. You’re on your knees before you know it, sobbing into your hands. The world moves on around you while you cry and pray for a different life. That this is all a dream and you’ll wake up soon in your old house with your old life before your parents decided to give you to this man.

You manage to pull yourself onto your bed where you cry yourself to sleep.

The rain was coming down hard now you noticed, a simple contrast compared to how it drizzled when you had woken up. Well, more like forced awake. The nightmare still fresh in your mind, a life you’d never have, your husband with other women. A loveless marriage and a baron home.

Your nose was blocked and your eyes puffy and sore from your melt down earlier. You washed your face and changed into your white nightgown and dark red robe before lighting a candle and making your way to the library.

The library, you could live and die happily in here. It was full of all your favourites and you always left the room with a smile on your face. A hard contrast to how you had left your bedroom earlier this evening.

You were so immersed in reading when Belle begins to fall in love with the beast that you didn’t even hear the library door slowly creak open.

To be continued…

Taglist | @watyousayin @corvusmorte @callmecurious97

[sturnmeovr]

You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo

Part Two Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; fluff 🥰 strong language, mentions of alcohol use, vomitting, A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love

"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.

You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.

"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.

Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.

You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.

"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.

"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.

You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.

"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.

Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.

You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"

"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.

"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."

Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.

You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before. 

A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."

"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous." 

Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.

"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.

You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"

"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."

How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."

You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.

"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.

"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.

"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"

"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.

You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.

"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️

Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.

First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚

My requests are always open!

[pucksandpower]

You Owe Me

Day 9 → Overstimulation 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The door to the hotel suite slams shut with a sharp click, echoing through the quiet space. You freeze just inside the entryway, one heel still half-off, your body already half-turned toward Charles. You can feel the tension before you even look at him — an unmistakable tightness in the air, like the room itself is holding its breath.

“Baby?” You ask softly, already sensing this isn’t going to be a conversation that ends with laughter or a kiss. He’s standing by the window, arms crossed, the lights of the city casting a harsh glow over his face. His jaw clenches, and there’s something stormy in his eyes, something that makes your stomach tighten.

He doesn’t turn. “You had fun tonight?”

It’s a simple enough question, but his tone carries weight — far too much for something that should be innocent. You take a breath, trying to ease the knot building in your chest. “It was fine,” you reply, stepping out of your other shoe. “The sponsors were … you know how it is. They want to feel important.”

He laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless. “Oh, I saw. You made them feel very important.”

You blink, thrown by the bitterness in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally, he turns, his eyes locking on yours. There’s fire there, a barely controlled flame flickering in the depths. He takes a step closer, then another, his movements deliberate, calculated.

“You spent the entire night,” he says, his voice low, “flirting with everyone in sight.”

Your mouth falls open, words caught in your throat. For a moment, you just stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. “Flirting?” You repeat, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. “Charles, I wasn’t-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, pacing now, back and forth across the plush carpet. “I’m not blind. I saw how you were with them. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, touching their arms. Acting like they’re the most interesting people in the world.”

You stand rooted to the spot, the accusation swirling around in your mind like a bad dream. “I wasn’t flirting,” you say again, more firmly this time. “I was being polite, trying to sweeten them up for you. For the team. That’s why we were there.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Bullshit?” You echo, incredulous. “You think I was flirting with them? For what? To get a free drink? To make you jealous?”

“Maybe you wanted to make me jealous,” he spits out, stopping dead in front of you. His presence is overwhelming, a towering force of frustration and anger, and you feel it pressing down on you, threatening to suffocate. “Maybe you like the attention. You like how they look at you, like they’re ready to do anything for you.”

You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch. “You really think that low of me?”

For a moment, the anger in his eyes wavers, something else flickering behind the fury. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the hard, cold expression you’ve never seen from him before. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing tonight.”

Your chest tightens, and for the first time, you feel the burn of tears threatening to rise, but you refuse to let them fall. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was there for you, Charles. I was trying to help.”

He snorts, turning his back on you again. “You call that helping?”

You shake your head, stepping forward. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to stop talking to anyone else? Should I just sit in a corner and be invisible?”

His silence stretches out, and you wish, for a moment, he would just say something, anything, that isn’t loaded with accusation.

“You don’t get it,” he finally mutters. “You never get it.”

“What don’t I get?” Your voice is rising now, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Tell me what I’m supposed to understand here, Charles, because right now all I see is you punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

He turns sharply, eyes locking on yours. “You don’t understand what it’s like, watching them look at you like that, knowing that at any moment, they could sweep in and-” He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as if he’s said too much.

You stare at him, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

Charles’ eyes flash with something dangerous. “I’m not worried,” he snaps. “I know how this works. You think they’re just being polite, just being nice, but I see it. I see how they look at you, like you’re a prize they can win. And you, you play right into it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. “You think I’m some object? Some … trophy for them to fight over? That’s insane, Charles. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” His voice is sharp, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable, in the way he says it. “Because tonight, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for the right words. “I was doing my job as your date, Charles. I was talking to sponsors, making connections — for you.”

He shakes his head again, the muscles in his jaw working. “That’s not what it looked like.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Then what did it look like to you? Because from where I’m standing, all I did was try to help, and now I’m being accused of God knows what.”

His eyes darken, the fire in them burning hotter now. “It looked like you were enjoying it. Every second of it.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. When you finally do, your voice is quiet, a sharp contrast to the storm raging between you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He steps closer again, his presence overpowering, like gravity pulling you in whether you want it or not. “You think I didn’t notice the way your hand lingered on his arm, the way you leaned in when you laughed? You think I didn’t see him watching you?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I was making conversation.”

“With his arm?”

“Charles-”

“I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Your chest tightens at the way he says your name, so cold, so distant. The Charles you know isn’t like this. He’s fierce, yes, but not like this. Not with you.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you repeat, your voice low but firm. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for a lie, for something that isn’t there. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, measured, but it carries a weight that makes your stomach churn.

“You flirted with eight men? You owe me eight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, their meaning unclear at first. You blink, your confusion only deepening as you replay the sentence in your mind.

“Eight?” You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t explain, doesn’t elaborate. His eyes stay locked on yours, cold and unyielding, and you know there’s no point in asking again. He’s already decided — whatever it is he thinks you’ve done, however he’s convinced himself of it, he’s not backing down.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

For a moment, you want to fight. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to push back against this irrational anger that’s tearing him apart. But you’re exhausted — emotionally, mentally, drained from the evening and the unexpected accusation.

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “I don’t know what you think I owe you, but this … this isn't fair.”

Charles’ eyes don’t leave you as the silence stretches unbearably thin between you. His breath is steady, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable tension in the way he stands — coiled, waiting. His gaze sharpens, and you feel it like a current, an invisible pull dragging you back toward him.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. You take a step toward him, hesitating for a fraction of a second. His eyes darken, daring you to defy him, but you can’t. You don’t. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that holds you in place, that demands your obedience without ever saying the words.

His hand reaches out, curling around your wrist, firm but not harsh, and he pulls you closer. The air between you feels thick, heavy with unresolved tension and desire. You know what he wants. There’s no mistaking it now.

“You owe me eight,” he repeats, and this time, the meaning behind his words is crystal clear.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the heat rise in your body, your skin prickling under his gaze. There’s no room for argument, no space to deny him. He’s made up his mind, and you … you’re at his mercy.

He doesn’t waste time.

His hands are quick, efficient as he pulls at your dress, the fabric sliding down your body with an ease that makes your pulse race. Every brush of his fingertips ignites something in you, something you can’t control. His touch is rough, but not cruel — dominant, but laced with something deeper, something that sends a thrill down your spine.

You open your mouth to speak, to say something — anything — but the words are gone before they form, lost in the haze of his touch.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your neck. “Not a word. Not until I say.”

And you nod, because what else is there to do? You’re already under his spell, every part of you tuned to him, to the way his hands move, the way his eyes never leave your face. You’re his. For this moment, for as long as he decides, you’re his.

He starts slowly, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin, teasing, coaxing your body into submission. Your breath hitches, and you feel the heat rising in you, the anticipation building with every calculated touch. He’s methodical, deliberate, focusing entirely on you, on what you’re feeling, how you’re reacting. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

“Charles,” you whisper, a breathless plea escaping before you can stop it.

He pulls back just slightly, eyes narrowing. “What did I say?”

You bite your lip, nodding quickly, trying to regain control of yourself, but it’s slipping fast. His touch is too much — precise, intentional — and you can already feel your body unraveling beneath his hands.

Then he starts in earnest.

His fingers move with purpose, finding that spot that makes your breath hitch, your body jerk involuntarily. It’s a slow build at first, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it’s all you can focus on. Your mind goes blank, every thought consumed by the sensation coursing through you.

The first one comes hard, fast, and you gasp, your body arching into him. He doesn’t let up, his fingers relentless, pushing you higher, faster. You barely have time to recover before the second one crashes over you, leaving you breathless, trembling.

“That’s two,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

You’re barely coherent now, your body no longer your own as he drives you toward the third. He’s focused, unrelenting, and you can’t stop the sounds escaping your lips, broken, breathless moans that fill the room as he pulls you closer to the edge again.

The third comes slower, more drawn out, and by the time it crests, you’re shaking, your body trembling under his touch.

“Three,” he murmurs, and there’s something almost possessive in the way he says it, like he’s claiming each one as his own.

He doesn’t stop. His hand moves faster now, more insistent, and you can feel yourself slipping, your mind clouding with the overwhelming pleasure building inside you. The fourth one crashes into you harder than the last, and you cry out, your body jerking as it hits.

He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Four.”

You’ve lost count, your mind too hazy to keep track anymore, but Charles hasn’t. He knows exactly where you are, and he’s not done. He won’t be done until you’ve given him everything he’s asked for. Everything he’s demanded.

By the time the fifth one hits, your legs are weak, your body trembling uncontrollably. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure is overwhelming now, consuming, and you’re teetering on the edge of losing yourself completely.

He slows down just for a moment, letting you catch your breath, but the reprieve is brief. His hand moves again, more purposeful now, driving you toward the sixth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

It hits harder than you expect, your body spasming as it crashes over you. You can’t control the sounds escaping your lips, the soft whimpers and moans that fill the space between you.

Charles is relentless, his fingers never pausing, never giving you a moment to recover. You’re incoherent now, your mind a blur of sensation, your body completely at his mercy.

The seventh one comes before you’ve even had time to process the last, your body convulsing under his touch. You’re barely holding on, your mind fogged, every nerve ending on fire.

And then, the eighth.

It’s slower, drawn out, the pleasure building and building until you’re sure you can’t take any more. When it finally hits, it’s like an explosion, tearing through you, leaving you trembling, incoherent, completely undone.

Your body goes limp, every muscle weak, every thought gone. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even breathe properly.

Charles finally stops, his hand withdrawing as he leans back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, taking in the sight of your trembling body, your flushed skin.

“You owe me nothing now,” he whispers, and there’s a possessive satisfaction in his voice that makes your heart pound, even through the haze.

***

You wake slowly, consciousness seeping in like warmth spreading across your skin. For a moment, everything is soft, gentle — the sheets tangled around your legs, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and the quiet, rhythmic sound of breathing beside you.

And then you feel it — Charles’ fingers.

Your heart skips a beat as you become fully aware of the slow, deliberate movements beneath the sheets. He’s there, under the covers, his body pressed against yours, and his touch … God, his touch is focused, intentional, right where he knows you’re most sensitive.

You stir, a soft moan escaping your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes flutter open, but everything is still blurry, your mind foggy with sleep and the sudden, electric sensation coursing through you.

“Charles …” your voice is quiet, husky with sleep, but there’s a hint of surprise mixed with something else — something warmer, something stirring deep within you.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his fingers move with more purpose, flicking lightly at the bundle of nerves that’s now fully awake. Your breath hitches, your body responding immediately, instinctively, arching slightly into his touch.

You can’t see him clearly, but you know the look on his face — the intense focus, the way his eyes darken with desire, the way his lips curl into that knowing, smug smile when he knows he’s affecting you.

A soft chuckle escapes from under the sheets. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low, the words vibrating against your skin. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you time to adjust to the sudden onslaught of sensation. His fingers continue their work, teasing, circling, flicking, until your body is already trembling beneath him.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to spill out. Your legs twitch involuntarily, and you’re about to speak again, to say something — anything — but he presses down a little harder, his thumb joining his fingers in perfect rhythm.

“Charles-” you gasp, but it’s barely a word, more of a plea, your breath hitching as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely. “What … what are you doing?”

He hums, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh as he speaks. “Making sure you start the day properly,” he says, the words laced with that unmistakable arrogance that only he can pull off without sounding insufferable.

You can feel the heat rising in your body, spreading from where his fingers work their magic. You’re already sensitive — too sensitive — and he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, exactly where to touch, how to touch, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

Your hips shift, bucking slightly as his fingers quicken, and you let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping the sheets beneath you. You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every precise flick of his fingers, every teasing circle.

“Charles, please …” you whisper, but you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going. The pleasure is already overwhelming, your body still exhausted from last night, but the heat building inside you is impossible to ignore.

“Please, what?” He asks, his voice teasing, almost playful, but there’s a darker edge to it, something commanding. His fingers slow for a brief moment, and you take a shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his fingers pausing just at the edge of where you need him most, his breath warm against your skin.

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “No,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his fingers are back, moving with even more purpose than before, faster, more insistent. Your hips lift off the bed, your body moving of its own accord, chasing the sensation, chasing the release you know is coming, but Charles is in control — he’s always in control.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s a command hidden in the softness. “Let me take care of you.”

You try to comply, but your body isn’t listening. Your legs twitch, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers work you closer and closer to the edge. It’s too much, too soon, and you can feel yourself unraveling, the tension in your core coiling so tightly it’s almost painful.

“Charles, I can’t-” you gasp, your voice breaking as your body tenses, every muscle tightening in anticipation.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice a mix of gentleness and command. “Just let go. Let me.”

And you do. You don’t have a choice — your body gives in, the tension snapping all at once, and the release crashes over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, trembling, your vision going white for a moment as the pleasure ripples through you.

Your fingers grip the sheets, your back arching as your body rides the waves of your orgasm, and Charles doesn’t stop. His fingers slow, but they don’t stop, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, pushing you through it until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

You’re gasping for breath, your mind fuzzy, your body limp and uncooperative as the aftershocks roll through you. You can’t even form words, your lips parting uselessly as you try to catch your breath.

Charles emerges from under the sheets, his eyes dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. He hovers above you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, letting you taste the satisfaction on his lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice soft now, the roughness replaced by something gentler, more tender.

You try to respond, but your body is still too weak, too overwhelmed by the sensations still lingering in your skin. Instead, you just nod, your hand weakly reaching up to brush through his hair.

He chuckles softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your trembling body. There’s something possessive in his gaze, something that sends a shiver through you despite the heat still coursing through your veins.

“You can take another,” he says, and it’s not a question.

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“You can,” he insists, his hand slipping between your thighs again, fingers finding that sensitive spot immediately, and you whimper, your body twitching involuntarily.

“I’m … I’m too sensitive,” you gasp, your hips shifting away instinctively, but he follows you, relentless.

“I know,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, teasing circles. “But I want to see you fall apart again. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

There’s no real room for refusal in his voice, and despite the sensitivity, despite the overwhelming pleasure still buzzing in your veins, you find yourself nodding, your body already responding to his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his fingers pressing down harder, and you moan, your body already trembling again, the sensitivity only heightening the pleasure now.

It doesn’t take long — your body is still on edge, still too raw from the first orgasm, and Charles knows exactly how to push you back to the brink. His fingers are relentless, flicking and circling in a rhythm that makes your legs shake, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely.

You try to hold on, try to control it, but it’s impossible. Charles is too skilled, too focused, and your body is too weak, too sensitive. The second orgasm crashes into you faster than the first, more intense, more overwhelming, and you cry out, your body convulsing as the pleasure tears through you.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your body completely uncooperative, every muscle trembling as the orgasm rips you apart. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you, leaving you breathless and incoherent.

Charles slows his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally pulls his hand away, you’re gasping for breath, your body limp and useless, your mind a hazy blur of satisfaction and exhaustion. You can’t even open your eyes, can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

Charles leans over you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “That’s my girl.” His breath is warm on your skin, sending shivers down your spine even though your body is already wrecked, trembling, barely holding on to the remnants of what he's given you.

But it doesn’t stop there. You can feel him shifting beside you, his body pressing closer, his chest brushing against your back as he moves. The anticipation builds again, that familiar, heady pull tightening in your core even though you’re exhausted, overstimulated, every nerve in your body screaming that you’ve had enough.

And then you feel it — him. Sliding between your legs, the head of him nudging against you. Your breath catches in your throat, the sensation sharp, almost too sharp, like your body can’t take any more, like you’re already too far gone.

“Charles, I-” you start to protest, but the words come out broken, barely a whisper, swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of him pushing into you, slow, deliberate, but still relentless.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “I know it’s too much. I know.”

But he doesn’t stop. He slides in deeper, stretching you, filling you completely, and the sensation is so intense it feels like fire — burning, bright, consuming. Your body tenses, your fingers gripping the sheets as the overstimulation turns into something almost painful. The pleasure from before mixes with the sharp edge of it, and you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as he presses further in.

“Charles, I can’t-” you try again, but the words are lost, drowned out by the sound of your own breath hitching, your body tightening around him involuntarily, every muscle clenching as you try to cope with the overwhelming sensation.

“You can,” he says again, his voice low and firm, like he’s coaxing you, pulling you through the pain, the pleasure, everything at once. “You can take it. Just breathe.”

You try to listen, try to breathe, but it’s so much — too much. Your legs twitch, your hips buck involuntarily as he moves deeper still, every inch of him sending shockwaves through you. Your vision blurs, your head swimming as the pressure inside you builds again, twisting tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

The overstimulation is like electricity, buzzing under your skin, every nerve on fire. You can feel everything — every inch of him, every stroke, every push — and it’s overwhelming. Your body is trembling uncontrollably now, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teeter on the edge of something you can’t control, something that feels too intense, too much to handle.

Charles’ hands are on you, firm, steady, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper, his movements slow but unyielding, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and pain until you can’t tell the difference anymore. Your mind goes blank, your senses consumed by him, by the way he’s filling you, stretching you, pushing you past every limit you thought you had.

“I know it’s too much,” he whispers again, his lips against your ear, his voice a soft command. “But you can take it. You’re mine, and I want all of you.”

Your vision goes white, then black, the edges of your consciousness fading as the overstimulation hits its peak. The pleasure is so sharp it hurts, a throbbing, pulsing ache that sends your mind spiraling. You can’t see, can’t think, can’t breathe properly. The world tilts, and for a moment, everything disappears — the room, the bed, Charles, all of it swallowed by the overwhelming sensation crashing through you.

It’s like drowning in fire and light, your body suspended in a haze of overstimulation that blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re lost in it, your body convulsing as he pushes you further, deeper, until you break.

And then, nothing.

The world goes black.

***

You come back slowly, your body heavy and limp, the overwhelming sensation fading into a dull hum. Your eyelids flutter open, the room coming back into focus, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting shadows across the sheets. Everything feels distant, like you’re floating just outside of yourself, disconnected but still aware.

Charles’ arms are wrapped around you, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady and warm against your neck. He’s holding you close, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm, grounding you, pulling you back from wherever you had gone. His touch is soft now, gentle, as if he knows you’ve already given him everything, as if he’s calming the storm he unleashed.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but it’s the sound that pulls you fully back, anchoring you in the present. “You with me?”

You nod weakly, though your body still feels like it’s not entirely your own, like you’ve been hollowed out and filled with something entirely different. You’re trembling slightly, your breath coming in shallow, shaky inhales, but you’re here. You’re with him.

Charles shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. His lips brush the side of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath, the tenderness in the way he’s holding you now. It’s such a stark contrast to the intensity from before, and you cling to it, to him, as you try to gather yourself.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, filled with a deep, quiet pride that makes your heart flutter weakly in your chest. “You’re perfect.”

You can’t speak yet, can’t form the words, so you just nod again, your eyes slipping shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms. The aftershocks are still rippling through you, small tremors that make you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that had torn through you moments ago.

He’s stroking your hair now, his fingers gentle as they thread through the strands, his movements slow, comforting. “I’ve got you,” he says, as if sensing the lingering haze in your mind. “Just breathe, okay? I’m here.”

You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs slowly, and you feel your body start to relax, the tension ebbing away little by little. Charles’ presence is grounding, his steady touch bringing you back to yourself, and you’re grateful for it. For him. For the way he knows exactly how to take care of you, even when you’re completely undone.

“You scared me for a second,” he admits quietly, his voice soft, almost vulnerable, as if he’s sharing something he rarely lets anyone see. “You went somewhere else. I didn’t mean to push you that far.”

You swallow, your throat dry, but you manage to whisper, “I’m okay.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough so he can look at you, his eyes searching your face. “You sure?”

You meet his gaze, your body still weak, but your mind clearer now, and you nod. “Yeah … I’m sure.”

The concern in his eyes fades, replaced by that familiar intensity, the quiet possessiveness that’s always been there, lurking beneath the surface. But now it’s softer, tempered by the care he’s showing you in this moment, by the way he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “You know that, right?”

You smile faintly, your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re everything. “You don’t make it easy,” you murmur, your voice still shaky, but there’s a hint of teasing in it.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound warm and low, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy, mon amour.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound weak but real, and you close your eyes, leaning into him, letting the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your body is still recovering, still trembling slightly, but you’re safe here, in his arms. You’re okay.

Charles shifts again, settling back into the pillows with you still wrapped in his arms, his hand never leaving your skin, always touching, always grounding you. He holds you like that for a long time, the silence between you filled only with the sound of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of two people who understand each other on a level that words can’t reach.

And as you lie there, cocooned in his warmth, his arms around you like a shield, you hope he finally realizes that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 4

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 2088

Explaining to them what Talia had said did not make the situation any better. While her information had been helpful it wasn’t nearly enough to calm the storm that raged in them. If anything caused the winds to roar even stronger. They had to know what happened in that room, and the only one that knew was currently 6 years old. Which meant everyone would just have to wait; something this family was never good at especially when it came to personal matters. 

“Talia doesn’t know what really happened to Danyal. Ra’s could have just lied to her, and made Damian swear to never tell her the truth. We all know how much he idolized that man. It would have been easy for Ra’s to convince him it was for the best.” Tim suggests as he types hurriedly at the computer. 

“If Talia thought for a second that he had done something like that it would have come to light by now.” Bruce counters, “Ra’s would still have needed help getting Danyal out of Nanda Parbat, and one of them would have most definitely let it slip to Talia if he had done that.” 

“Which is why Ra’s would have everyone involved killed before they could have done so.” 

“Tim-”

“Crazier things have happened Bruce; multiple people in this family have come back. Why not Danyal?” Tim looks away from the screen for but a second as he interrupts Bruce before focusing back on the screen. A clear sign that he doesn’t want to continue talking about this. 

Bruce leaves Tim to continue his investigation; a part of him hoping that Tim is right. He could never admit that though. It would just be that much more crushing if proven wrong. So he turns attention to Dick, who is still near the med bay ready to rush in if need be.  

“Chum, why don’t you take a rest? Damian is perfectly fine right now, and you look like you need a break.” 

He knew that the reveal of Danyal’s death would hit Dick partially hard as someone who was very protective of his younger siblings. It wouldn’t matter to him that Danyal died before he even knew of his existence. Bruce expected Dick to be consumed with sadness right now. He wasn’t though he was overcome with fury. 

“A rest Bruce? We all just found out that Damian’s twin is dead; that Ra’s did something to make sure Damian wouldn’t tell anyone. And you want me to take a rest?” Dick eyes burned into him as he spoke. “I’ll take a rest once I know what that psychotic old man did.” 

Bruce knows Dick well enough to read between the lines of what his son is saying. He’s angry at Ra’s, yes, but Dick’s angry at himself too. He’s probably wondering why Damian never felt comfortable enough to mention such a big part of himself to them. 

“And we’ll make sure Damian knows that whatever Ra’s said or did was wrong, but you look exhausted right now. At least let me bring a chair over here for you to sit in.” Bruce calmly states to his eldest son. 

It looks like his words haven’t calmed Dick in the slightest, but before he can speak up again a chair is being pulled up next to Dick by Jason. “Jesus Christ Dick, just sit down already. And that’s me agreeing with B on something so you should know that it's not just the old man saying some b.s.” 

It doesn’t take much for Jason to force Dick to take a seat; one hard shoulder shove and he was collapsing into the chair. After which Jason pulls his own chair up next to him. “I’m gonna need you to put an end to this little pity party in the corner, Dickiebird.” 

“I’m allowed to be upset, Jason. We just found out that our brother is dead, and I should have been able to do something. 

“You think I don’t get that? The only difference between us right now though is that I was there; I could have done something to save the kid if I had known.” 

“Jaylad-” 

“No Bruce, if Dick here wants to blame himself for not doing something then he can blame me too.” Jason gives Dick an annoyed look then turns his head towards Bruce, “You’re free to get out of here old man. Can’t believe I’m the one that’s gotta talk some sense into Dick here.” 

He really doesn’t want to leave this conversation where it’s currently at, but when Dick gives him a nod he knows that he should withdraw. Bruce does make a mental note to ask about how the discussion went later; for now though he’ll do as they want.

So for now he moves on to check on his final son, Duke, before doing so though Bruce stops by his office once more for a moment to just sit and think. Once there it doesn’t take long before he is reaching into the bottom drawer where he keeps a bottle of whiskey hidden away. When he doesn’t feel it though Bruce knows that Alfred must have taken it. 

Of course Alfred knew he had it; that man knows everything that goes on here. 

It’s for the best that it’s gone anyhow he doesn’t need to be repeating past habits from when he lost Jason. That’s the last thing this family needs right now; not when there are still so many questions that need answers. 

In the end it’s Duke who seeks him out first. A mere 10 minutes goes by where Bruce is sitting in silence before a few light knocks echo against the walls around him. After announcing that the person knocking entrance Duke almost hesitantly approaches him. His habit of always tapping his fingers on whatever he was holding a dead give away for how nervous his son must be feeling right now. 

“Hey B,” Duke started, “everyone seems to be going through it right now huh?”

“It would appear so. What about you chum? How are you doing with all this?”

“I’m … not fine, but I know that that’s ok; I don’t think anyone wouldn’t be somewhat affected by the recent news. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else though if that’s ok.” 

Bruce takes a quick steady breath preparing himself for whatever this conversation may bring. “Of course, what did you want to talk about?”

“About what’s going to happen afterwards; when we find out the truth from Damian. Because- If Danyal is … dead then I think asking Damian about who Danyal was as a person, and setting up a memorial of sorts might help everyone with their grief.” 

“That,” his throat feels tight, “that sounds like a wonderful idea, Duke. I’m sure Damian- everyone would appreciate having a setup for Danyal in the manor.” 

Duke seems satisfied with his answer, and with a small smile makes his way out of the office. Before he leaves though he says one last thing, “I’d also make time to call Cass and Steph to give them an update on this before they get home.” 

After that the silence once more takes control of the room while Bruce thinks about the what if’s and the could have been. 

He’s not sure what the future holds for them now, but Bruce does know that whatever comes they’ll deal with it; together. That means he can’t keep sitting here in sorrow; he can’t fall apart again. 

“It’s time to get to work,” is his last thought as he leaves to make his way back to the cave. 

-

The rest of the day seems to go by in a blur, and not in a good way. Damian spits fire anytime anyone steps into his room. He has only willingly allowed Alfred inside to deliver food to him, and even that was met with cautious anger. 

At the very least Damian isn’t trying to escape; some piece of evidence they showed him must have convinced him that what they were saying was the truth. That conclusion is a double edge sword though as now Damian for sure knows that Danyal is gone. Why else would his brother not be here?

Red Hood and Red Robin are the only ones that go on patrol when the time comes. Dick refuses to leave his station at the med bay door knowing that Damian could be transferring back to himself any time now, and Bruce doesn’t want to leave him by himself if that does happen tonight. The two don’t talk much while alone in the cave, but Dick does allow Bruce to momentarily take his place at the door while he takes a moment to refresh himself. 

While it doesn’t actually happen that night the family is definitely in for a surprise when they check in on Damian the next morning, and find the now normal 14 year old boy asleep on the bed. 

Everyone had to hold Dick back so that he wouldn’t wake him up, and in the end it was Alfred who finally managed to convince him to let Damian rest without interruptions. Unfortunately for the sleeping child though this only gives the rest of the family more time to think about what they’re going to ask, and heaven knows he already has a lot to answer for.

-

Damian feels himself slowly waking; his body feels stiff and slow when he attempts to sit up, but otherwise fine. He knows he must be in the med bay since the last thing he remembers was being on patrol with Nightwing and encountering a blinding light. 

When enough of his strength finally returns to him he cracks his eyes open to see his father and brothers all looking at him with varying degrees of concern. Whatever happened must have been a lot bigger than he had originally thought if they are all here with him.  

Slowly he rubs a hand across his face and groans out to everyone in the room, “What happened?” 

No one says anything for a few beats. In fact they all seem to avoid meeting his eyes entirely. Eventually though his father clears his throat before speaking in a voice far too soft and gentle, “Well chum, you got hit with a spell while on patrol. It- It reverted you back to your 6 year old self.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

That was probably the worst thing he could have been told right now as Damian thinks back to what he was like at that age; to who had been by his side since birth. There is absolutely no way that his long gone other half wasn’t mentioned, or brought up in however long he was in his younger state. 

“I’m frankly surprised to see you all still standing. I was very dedicated to the league at that age.” He’s not going to admit to anything just in case he is wrong though. Danyal is not someone who Damian is ready to speak about. His twin, his brother, and his biggest regret; he’ll never forgive himself for being so brainwashed by Ra’s that he allowed Danyal’s death that day. That he was prepared to do it himself because the older man said it was for the best. 

“You did manage to break Jason's nose!” Duke lightly chuckles as the mentioned man throws a glare, but otherwise remains silent. Followed by more deafening silence from everyone else. 

Dick is the one that finally brings up the elephant in the room, “Dami … who’s Danyal?”

Why did he have to be right about them knowing? Ready or not it seems the truth about Danyal was coming to light it seems. “Danyal was my twin; the other half- the better half of me. I understand that now.”

His eldest brother gently grabs his hand, and holds it in a firm embrace of comfort. He’ll allow it for now. “And what happened to him?” 

Damian can’t keep his past hidden anymore, and Danyal deserves to have his story told. “When we were 10 Gran- Ra’s took Danyal and I away from our studies early one afternoon. He said that he had a couple lessons of his own that he wanted to teach us personally.” 

For one it was a life lesson, and for the other a death sentence. 

… 4 years ago …

“Damian, Danyal, come. You two are about to learn what it truly means to be an Al Ghul.”

[lqveharrington]

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox��“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[fireflyinks]

we need more soft hamzah!!!!!!!!!!

soft!hamzah headcannons

a/n : okay so by “soft!hamzah” i mean that he is absolutely down bad for you, is literally so sweet and just has a soft spot for you in general! tysm for requesting, love you guys sm 🫀 also i am currently writing this at 2:00 am so if there are any errors I AM SORRY my sleep schedule is so beyond repair, much love

contains : fluff, no smut, me being down bad

- okay so soft!hamzah is so AHSHBDKENDHDBS i like im actually so down bad

- i’m imagining him literally screaming at martin over some game and then the moment you say a word to him he is suddenly so sweet

- “martin, hold on, yes sweetheart?”

- he literally melts the moment you touch him

- do NOT cuddle this man unless you’re okay with him being on top of you and basically suffocating you

- sitting in his lap while he edits / plays games (thinking about my last fic 🫠)

- he loves to run his fingers through your hair and play with it absentmindedly. he also learned to braid just so he could do it when he gets bored

- imagine him watching a ten minute braiding tutorial and being LAZER FOCUSED LMAO

- NICKNAMES AHHH, like i said earlier probably sweetheart, love, baby, babe, princess, and anything else he can come up with or he knows you like

- he’s not big on pda in public just because that’s not the type of person he is, but if you’re feeling overwhelmed or shy, you cling onto his arm for dear life

- he loves baking with you and making a mess. by the time the food’s done you are both covered in ingredients

- he loves making tiktoks with you (yall definitely lip-synced promiscuous) AND the “intertwined, sewn together” trend with the bracelets 🤭

- SPEAKING OF BRACELETS if you make this man a bracelet he will wear it forever. i mean FOREVER. that thing is crusting on his wrist till the end of time.

- this goes for anything you make for him / give him, and he takes care of it like it’s his most prized possession (because it’s lowkey is). like yes he has the succulent you randomly bought him on his desk, and YES he researched how often he should water it and how much sunlight it needs. that thing is his baby.

- hamzah literally folds when you play with his curls, to the point that it’s part of you nightly routine. shower, pajamas, skin care, run your fingers through hamzah’s hair until he falls asleep

- invites you on the podcast all the time!!! if you’re shy he’ll make sure you’re comfortable and help you make conversation 😋

- PRINCESS TREATMENT, he will literally kneel down in front of you to tie your shoes the moment he notices they’re untied. at this point he notices faster than you do

- “hold on, i wouldn’t want my princess to trip”

- he’s the best person to vent to, imagine sitting on his lap and him wiping your tears while you tell him about your bad day :( he is ENGAGED too, like if you complain about your coworker they are suddenly dead to him

- i love soft!hamzah sm :(((

[cheapshrimpysheep]

First Date - Diasomnia

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let's pretend these are different. ;)

CHARACTERS: Malleus Draconia; Silver; Sebek Zigvolt & Lilia Vanrouge

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: None. Except maybe a little spoiler about Silver that he tells in Twisted Halloween: Spectral Soiree

WORD COUNT: An average of 710 words per character.

Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia

COMMENTS: I think Diasomnia is the hardest dorm to write for me. That's because, apart from Malleus, I don't have many romantic feelings for the others. I like them, I love Lilia, but not in that way. But I still try my best to write something that I think you will like. I just hope it's good enough.

I hope you enjoy ;)

Aaaah, the day has finally arrived. Malleus already wanted to ask you on a date for a long time. But with his status, doing something like that in public wasn't a good idea. Something like that being public knowledge could be bad for him and especially for you. After all, he learned from a young age to deal with rumors and social pressure. Besides, no one in their right mind would mess with him. But not only are you human, you can't even use magic. He doesn't even want to think about how your life could be affected because of him. At least for now.

So your first date would have to be discreet and even a secret. Fortunately, you two are quite fans of secrets. He doesn't tell you where he's going to take you. You only find out when the two of you are already in the front yard of the ruins of an abandoned mansion. If you also like abandoned places like him (and me) you will find that mansion fascinating! If you're not a big fan, maybe you'll be a little scared. But either way, you'll find it a strange and perhaps a little disappointing choice for a first date to say the least.

“Something the matter?” he asks you. You say no, that you're just intrigued and curious to know why he chose that place. He smiles, amused. “Then we must enter, to satisfy your curiosity.” he takes a step in front and extends his hand to you. “Shall we?” You take it and the two walk hand in hand through the undone front yard.

That place make you feel a little unease, so you end up squeezing his hand and taking your other hand to his arm, like hugging it. It makes him happy, knowing that you see him as someone who will protect you.

As soon as you walk through the front doors, you see that, despite being slightly run-down, the interior is magnificent. A mansion so gorgeous that seeing it in ruins even feels like blasphemy. He can see it in your face which makes him laugh. You are still holding hands, so he leads you to the dining room while he tells you a little about the history of that mansion. Nothing too scary. People had to evacuate many years ago and just never came back.

The dining room still had the long table, the chairs, the furniture, a few damaged paintings and even a vase of dead flowers in the middle of the table. He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit on. This one was in bad shape, but as soon as he touched it, it instantly restored itself. You sit down, and he loves the way you're looking at him, intrigued to know what he's going to do.

Standing beside you and smiling at you, he snaps his fingers. And the entire room is restored with his magic. As if time were turning back to his state of glory. He never took his eyes off you. Your smile is the most beautiful thing in the entire mansion. And you are surprised again when the three ghosts of the Ramshackle Dorm appear as butlers to serve you dinner. Malleus asked them for that favor. Of course, your favourite dishes.

He sits right next to you. “Tell me, is this good enough for a first date? Should I restore the entire mansion and the garden as well?” You tell him how you feel, that it's more than enough, that it's one of the most beautiful things anyone's ever done for you. He takes your hands in his and look you in the eyes “I'm glad this pleases you so much. But something inside me wants a little more than this. I'm looking forward to the day when we'll be just like this, but in my castle and with my grandmother, the queen, getting to know you and seeing you as I do.” and he caresses your cheek.

You tell him how much you look forward to that day too, while smiling and bringing your forehead closer to his. After these touch each other, it's your lips' turn.

It will probably have to be you asking Silver out on a first date to wait for him to do it. Not that he didn't want to ask you, but he's not exactly the best in that department. He can be a little... clueless. You will catch him by surprise with your invitation. “A date? No, it's not that I don't want to go on one with you. It's quite the opposite. I'm sorry I didn't express it in the better way.” He gives you his sweetest smile and blushes a little “I-I would love to go on a date with you.”

When you ask about what you could do on this date, he asks you to let him be the one to prepare everything. Since it's the least he can do for not being the one inviting you. That and since he's from Twisted Wonderland, he might have an easier time figuring out places you can go together.

He's a simple, sweet guy who made the mistake of asking his dad for ideas. Luckily he is aware that bungee jumping would not be a good first date idea. Okay, okay, but after messing with his son for a bit, Lilia still manages to give a good tip: go to a place with animals and work your magic... Not your real magic, dummy.

Well, the only thing he can remember is a picnic. He just hope it's not too boring for you. He doesn't do anything too elaborate. Like I said, he's a simple guy. But the place he chose to take you was beautiful. a small glade in the forest on the edge of a small peaceful river. You can hear the water of the river mixed with the birds singing.

You hold the basket as he spreads out the picnic blanket. And suddenly, at the two opposite ends of the blanket, two little birds appear to help him spread it out. You can't hide your surprise and it makes him smile in amusement. You sit down and start your picnic. And some animals appear while you are distracted by each other.

You begin to notice that new birds of other colours have appeared. Squirrels, with both those big fluffy tails and the short-tailed ones. And rabbits, some gray and some brown. Silver sees the way you look at them, the face of someone who wants to pet them. So he uses his "magic" to make the animals approach him and you. Thanks to it, you can pet all those animals, birds, squirrels and rabbits. You may not realize it, but he smiles while seeing your own smile.

Suddenly, those animals start running away. But you don't know why. Until you hears very heavy footsteps approaching. Silver automatically stands and takes a defensive position in front of you to protect you. From the middle of the trees a big bear appears! You get scared, but Silver doesn't. In fact, he even relaxes a little. The bear itself is not even standing, it is standing on all fours and does not look angry.

Silver turns to you, smiling and extends a hand to you who were still sitting on the blanket. “Do not be afraid. I know this bear.” You look at him in shock. “Everything is fine. She just know I was here and wanted to say hello. Would you like to meet her?” You take his hand and he helps you up. He slowly approaches the bear, without taking his hands off your shoulders. He takes your hand and holds it out to the bear, who sniffs it and then lowers her head to let you pet her. A few seconds later you hear some small grunts near your feet. Cub bears!

His father was right. You were so happy playing with those cute little cubs. And even Mama Bear thought she should help you two out a little bit. She pushes you with her muzzle so you fall into Silver's arms. And you take the opportunity to hug him and tell him how amazing that date was being. And if you kiss him on the cheek, he'll kiss your cheek right back, until the two of you are on each other's lips.

(Lilia may or may not be spying on you two and celebrating in silence.)

How did you do that? All people who know Sebek are incredulous! It took a long time to arrive this moment. And meanwhile, the way he treats you has changed. He still calls you Human, but this time it's more like a pet name, a bit like Malleus calls you Child of Man. And he smiles at you a lot more, although most of the time he still has that serious grimace of his. And how did he invite you on the date?

“HUMAN!” he catches your attention and approaches you. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The two of you move away from the others to speak more privately. And he starts to blush “I... um...” he takes a deep breath “Would you like to come with me on a date?” You often hear people saying that phrase in another word order, but still you accept, laughing a little. “You... EXCELLENT!” he smiles at you, the kind of smile he only gave Malleus. And says he will pick you up the next afternoon.

He knocks effusively on the door, so much so that it scares you. When you open the door, the first thing you see is a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums in your favourite colours. You pick it up and hold it in your arms. You look at Sebek and... um... I mean he looks very handsome and elegant, but was a suit like that needed for a first date? He looked more like he was in the new Operation Proposal group. Nonetheless, the sight of him in that suit could make you blush. He had a confident smile on his face until he looks at your clothes. Well, he didn't warn you that it was going to be that kind of date. So you dressed for a "normal" one.

“WHAT IS THAT? Don't tell me you don't have date clothes! You should have told me! I would have provided you with the best outfit for the occasion!” You argue with him a bit about there being different types of dates and he didn't specify the type of date because he wanted to surprise you. “*Sigh* You’re right. I apologize for not giving you enough information to choose your outfit correctly.” Fortunately, you had more suitable clothing for the occasion. You go up to your room to change and when you come down, you can see his smug face blush.

He takes you to... Diasomnia. He takes immense pride in his dorm and wanted to get you to the best place possible. He has prepared a room especially for the two of you. With the help of Lilia, Silver and maybe even Malleus. (Let's pretend in this "reality", Malleus isn't that attached to you) And, surprise or not: a candlelit dinner. In this case with green fire. Lilia told him it was a classic.

The main course was a typical traditional Briar Valley dish. But dessert was your favourite. Yes, there were times when he spoke of Malleus. You cannot change it on him. And later, somehow, you ended up talking about his parents. You start to tease him about his mother falling in love with a "mere" human. Couldn't that be a parallel with the two of you as well?

“Do not be ridiculous! I would never fall in love with a mere human! My standers are reasonably higher than that.” And if you ask him why you two are on a date: “Weren't you paying attention to what I was saying? I said that I would never fall in love with a mere human. I cannot believe you identify as one! Do you really believe that a mere human would do everything you've done? There are humans capable of using magic, who would never reach your heels. So, never again believe that you are on such a low level, do you hear me?!”

You smile, more flattered than ever. Which makes him smile too. This is your chance to challenge him to prove how special he really thinks you are. How? How about a kiss? After all, this is a date, isn't it?

The way Lilia asked you out on a date was so... him... that you didn't even know if he was just joking or being serious. Either way, you accepted it. Which seemed to surprise him a little. “Khee hee hee. Very well then. A date shall be.” If you ask when, he'll smirk at you. “You enjoy surprises as well, correct?” then he kisses your cheek and disappears.

You would be expecting him to show up at least the next day, right? And that's why he only appears the day after that. Or rather, the night after that. You hear knocking on your window, you draw the curtains, but you see nothing. Until he suddenly appears upside down outside. After the scare he gave you, you open the window.

“Khee hee. Good evening, prefect.” He looks at the pajamas you have on. “It's not what I expected you to wear for our date, but it sure is different. Khee hee, worry not. I'll give you time to change. I'll wait for you in the living room.” Before he leaves your room, you try to ask him where you are going so you know what to wear. “Um... very well, I'll give you a hint: dress to have fun.” And that's the only clue he gives you. Just in case, you dress in a little more sporty style, but still pretty.

He tells you it's an excellent choice and how good that outfit looks on you. You walk to the Mirror chamber for, through the looking glass, him to take you to... an Amusement Park. And since it's already night, the park is all lit up with the colours of the rides and food stalls. Coming from a kingdom solely reliant on magic, this sort of things are fascinating to him. And better, since magic is not necessary to have fun there, nothing prevents you from having as much fun as he does.

He will try to take you to the most crazy rides. If you like that, great! You are going to be the bravest couple in the entire park. Which will contrast with how cute you two are on the outside. If you don't like these rides. There is absolutely no problem. He will ride with you wherever you want and feel comfortable riding. The priority is you. If you are having fun, he will be having fun with you. That and, let's face it, this guy probably already did crazier things than riding a roller-coaster. Which means your fun is more important.

After the rides, you have dinner together at one of the food stalls. He offers to pay for everything. Old chivalry. After eating and before leaving, he suggests that the two of you take a look at the prize booths. He would like the two of you to carry away some good memories of that day.

A small plush of a black and pink bat catches your eye and you tell Lilia how much that plush reminds you of him. Not just for the colours (and the size) but also because both are so cute! “Would you like to try to win one? I make a point of paying for your attempts.” he doesn't want you to worry about money, just having fun.

The prize is a target shooting stand. You have to blow up the balloons with a dart. You have three tries, you need to get at least two right to get that bat. But everyone fails. Lilia notices that the prize booth guy is using magic to make you fail, but doesn't comment. Instead, he pretends not to have noticed and offers to win the plush for you himself.

Fooled by his cute appearance, the guy does the same trick on him, but it fails miserably. With just a quick gesture, he hits the three balloons in a row. Which surprises/scares the booth guy. He could get the highest prize, but he just wants the little bat. “Oh, actually I have a proposal for you.” he says with his cute smile. “What if, instead of the highest prize, you gave us those two stuffed bats? Maybe that could also redeem you from using magic against my dear date. Surely you regret using such a low trick?” he's still smiling, but his bright red eyes are menacing.

He got the black bat with pink details for you and a pink bat with black details for himself. Now, he also had something that reminded him of you. “I hope that trick of his didn't make you sad that your attempts failed.” You say maybe at first, but after seeing Lilia in action and scaring that guy, you're even glad you failed the balloons just to see that. “Khee hee hee. Your way of seeing the positive side of things is undoubtedly irresistible.” and he kisses your cheek “Um? Why that face? Were you expecting another kind of kiss?” he smirks, as an invitation to be yourself and get what you want from him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[ghcstao3]

Civilian Soap x Ghost

Ghost is in the Scottish Highlands for something, everyone else only knowing him as a visitor. He bumps into Soap a few times and is invited to stay for a round of drinks whenever he wants a break.

Something goes wrong and there is no safe house, so Ghost has to ask Soap if he can stay.

Ghost promptly gets a family meal to welcome him. He ends up being well clothed, shelted and fed as he slots perfectly into their dynamic. Rather close to Soap as the night goes on.

By the end of the stay Ghost is freely cuddling Soap on the couch like a happy cat and might as well be purring.

Ghost doesn’t exactly remember when or how he met John MacTavish, but in this moment, he’s never been more grateful.

Stranded in Middle-of-Nowhere, Scotland, with his only option for a safe house being barely less than 200km away when a low-stakes operation had somehow gone to shit, Ghost is sitting in a decrepit phone booth, praying for John to pick up his phone.

There’s finally a click on the other end of the line, as painfully early in the morning as it is, followed by a sleepy, “H’llo?”

“Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. His initial checks had told him he hadn’t been followed, but just in case. “It’s Simon.”

John seems to brighten up at this. “Simon! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I—“ Ghost grimaces beneath his mask. “I need a place to stay. But I can’t… tell you why.”

“‘S no biggie,” John says, then yawns. “Can you tell me where you are? I assume you need a ride.”

Ghost rattles off what he thinks is the location after squinting at some yellowing and torn flyers pasted on the sides of the booth, and for a long moment is met with silence.

He begins to worry the line’s gone dead when John exclaims, “Oh! That’s closer to my parents’ than my flat. I was actually goin’ up for a visit soon but I’m sure we can rearrange some things. I can be there in… say two hours?”

“Sure, yeah,” Ghost agrees before be can give it any more forethought. Because, yes it’s a place to stay—but with John’s parents?

He can almost hear John’s smile through the line. “Perfect. See you soon, Si.”

John hangs up, and Ghost puts the phone back on the hook with a sigh. Now, he waits.

And definitely doesn’t worry about meeting John’s parents more than he should. He’s friends with John—why should it matter? It’s not weird.

It’s not.

Ghost slumps against the side of the phone booth and lets his eyelids fall shut.

* * *

It had taken maybe two and half hours for John to arrive, but the drive to his parents’ is only forty or so minutes. John happily chats Ghost’s ear off the entire way, catching him up from the last time they’d talked, skillfully avoiding any mention of the situation Ghost is in.

John does his best to reassure Ghost over and over that he had talked to his parents, they’re fine with him staying however long he needs to until something more official comes along, and it helps a little.

Ghost still feels guilty for intruding.

But true to his word, John’s parents greet him with friendly smiles and welcoming words, ushering Ghost into their home with the familiarity of old friends—or perhaps even family.

The guilt does wear down little by little, as pleasant conversation is made, and, just as John had, no questions are asked about Ghost’s circumstances. Ghost wonders if that’s John’s doing, or if John had fed them some story just to avoid it. Either way, Ghost appreciates it.

He’d rather not think of his next steps for just a little while, as Price is surely piecing some of it together for him.

Ghost is made dinner later in the evening, and all three MacTavishes present insist there’s no issue in Ghost occupying John’s room for the night (he’d already promised to leave the next day, even if that means he winds up in a hotel instead).

He takes the couch anyway. He ignores the look John’s parents share when Ghost says, “It’s Johnny’s room, and I’m only here for one night,” ignores the blush that spans from John’s ears down his neck when they mouth ‘Johnny?’ in his direction.

And now, Ghost stands in the emptied out living room, just taking a moment to breathe. Because while he’s eternally grateful for the hospitality, he’s just a little worn out.

“You’re allowed to sit, you know.”

Attention pulled away from his thoughts, Ghost glances to John, who’s smiling crookedly as he holds an armful of pillows and a thick blanket. He dumps them on the sofa, plops himself down, and pats the seat beside him.

Ghost sits, and as he sinks into the cushions, realizes just how exhausted he is.

“You don’t have to tell me,” John is saying, “I mean, I know you can’t—but is this… was it a work thing that brought you here?”

Ghost hums an affirmative. His body is taking over before his mind can think twice, leaning over enough to rest his head on John’s shoulder. Tired, is all he can think. John laughs.

“There, there,” he teases. “Big scary military man’s a little sleepy, is he?”

Ghost swats at John with a mumbled shut up.

Civilian or not—there’s always been something different about him. With him.

John snorts. “Well, c’mere, then. Don’t be shy.”

Ghost complies easily, tucking further into John’s side like it’s second nature. Like it’s been months since he’s last seen the man.

Friends, is how Ghost has thus far labelled them. How Price would laugh his ass off hearing that.

At some point John begins to card his fingers through Ghost’s hair—he’s never worn the mask around him, never felt the need to—and between that moment and the next, Ghost is fast asleep, curled up with John like something a little more than just friends.

Fleetingly, Ghost thinks, just moments before his brain shuts off—I should visit him more.

[the20thangel]

The Caged Queen

Summary: The war has ended. Rhaenyra is dead, and Aegon is left burnt. You from House Celtigar have married the King and ruled at his place because of his injuries. To try to bring stability to the realm, you invite the lords of the realm to pledge their loyalty to the crown. Forcing you to reunite with a lord from your past, tensions run, and feelings come back. (I have not proofread, so I apologize for any errors)

Benjicot X reader

Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+

Word count: 3.5 K

Masterlist

Sitting in the council room, listening to the state of the realm, seeing how you can bring it into peace after the dreadful war. You sighed, listening to the lords discussing the possibility of marrying Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son and your husband’s child, with his first wife, Heleana, Princess Jaehaera. The war ended, but the tensions were still high around the realm. With the current council holding surviving lords from both black and green sides, meetings usually ended with arguments rather than solutions. Since you had yet to provide a male heir to the king, you understood it was only plausible for the two to marry, but you did not want that for your stepdaughter. For you know, the sweet princess would never survive the hardships of court, just like her mother. You also could not help but think that Prince Aegon would be okay with marrying the daughter of the man who killed his mother. 

You were only a stand-in for your husband, who was too weak and almost always in pain to get out of his bed. Growing tired of the arguments, you cleared your throat. 

“My lords, I understand that the realm needs stability, but I don’t feel like marrying the young royals will achieve this. They have not healed from the horrors of the war. I will not force them into a marriage that could end in resentment. What would we do once they, in their anger, kill each other? Hmm? The realm will be left with no heirs left.”

You explained, twirling a ring on your right index finger; it was pretty garnet. Lord Corlys gave you a pointed look, stopping you from your nervous tick. Lord Peake condescendingly looked at you with pity.

“My Queen, no insult to you or the king, but since you have yet to become with child, King Aegon’s reign is frail; we need to make sure that the realm has heirs to prevent a war from brewing again.”  snidely explained Lord Peake, giving you a crooked grin, as eyes roamed down your body. 

Disgusted, you sneered at the lord, “Surely, you understand, my lord, that my husband is always in a great deal of pain, so tell me, my lord, how am I supposed to become with the child if laying with my husband will cause him immense pain? You want to ensure an heir for him; you should find a way for me to do my duty. I am responsible for Prince Aegon the Younger and Princess Jaehaera's well-being. My stepdaughter is still a child; I will not force her into an early marriage. So let us conclude this meeting by brainstorming a more realistic way to ensure lasting peace for the realm; surely our families and people deserve that much?” 

You stood up, prompting all the other lords to stand and bow their heads, letting you be the first to walk out of the council room. Walking to the king's rooms, you saw your husband peacefully sleeping on his bed. Turning to the maester, you asked about Aegon’s status. 

“The King is in great pain, but he seems to relax once given some sweet wine and poppy milk. Hopefully, letting him have adequate rest will bring back his strength.” 

 Thanking the maester, you turned to look at Aegon. You suppose you got lucky; you were his second wife after the tragic death of Heleana. Lord Larys, before Queen Rhaenyra executed him, convinced Aegon that he needed another Valyrian bride, and besides the Velayrons, House Celtigar was the only other house with Valyrian genes. So your father betrayed Rhaenyra, and you were soon married to Aegon. Although you pleaded for the Queen to help you escape from your fate, she was already ridden by grief and sent you away, claiming that you betrayed her like your father. Then Princess Baela attacked Aegon a week before your marriage, injuring him more than he was before.  So, although the seven witnessed the marriage, it remained unconsummated.  

Of course, the only people who knew that it was unconsummated were your ladies and Alicent Hightower, who would only glare at you should you be in the same vicinity as her. It did not help that you started prohibiting her from reaching your stepdaughter, but the poor girl confessed her grandmother frightened her. Sighing, you placed a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the room. Walking to the children’s chambers, Aegon the Younger and Jaehaera played quietly. Smiling, you greeted them, allowing both children to embrace you. They were innocent in the war and lost people they cared about, and you needed to protect them from lords who wanted to place burden after burden on them. You spent the rest of the day with the children, trying to ignore the nagging feeling from that morning's meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, another council meeting was called. As you sat at the head of the table, you noticed that only a few lords seemed happy, and Lord Peake was not one of them. Turning to Lord Corlys, he cleared his throat. 

“My queen, after you left, I decided to follow through on your command and brainstormed a plan to bring stability to the realm, and I decided the course of action was to call all lords from the realm to come to Kingslanding and pledge their loyalty to the crown, ending the occasion with a ball. Therefore, the lords see how much we appreciate their oaths.” 

As you thought in the plan, you brought up the concern that the smallfolk would see this as a slap in their faces if the highborn indulges while they are struggling. Another lord countered by saying they would provide opportunities for the smallfolk to work for the lords coming to Red Keep to earn coins and hold minor feasts outside the walls. Nodding, you decided to allow the plan to run its course, taking the rest of the time to prepare preparations for the many houses and where they would stay in the castle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two moons passed, and finally, the lords were here to swear their oaths to the crown. Aegon was improving but still had too much pain to leave his room entirely. As you stood with Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera, each lord came up, bowing and swearing his loyalty to the crown and House Targaryen. The last house from the Riverlands came up to the royals, House Blackwood. Lord Benjicot came forth, staring at the Prince for a while before bowing. Your heart started beating fast, seeing the Raventree Hall lord for the first time since your marriage. Seeing him so close, your chest tightened, but propriety was a border between you both. Benjicot raised himself, allowing both your eyes to meet, gray on lilac. You closed your eyes, nodding to him. 

Benjicot stared at you. You were so close, but he knew better than to reach out for you. Seeing your face away from him greatly upset him; frowning, he bowed again before walking away, his fists curling. 

Soon, the festivities began, with lords and ladies dancing and laughing, enjoying themselves. You tiredly smiled, happy that the court seemed to enjoy themselves, but it took a toll on you. Hoping to use the children as an excuse to leave early when the herald's voice came out. 

“Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Aegon, Second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Everyone gasped as the Kingsguard practically carried Aegon to you, and everyone paled, including you, at seeing your husband. Seeing him wheeze in pain caused you to quickly go to his side, helping him stand beside you as the court became silent.  You scanned the room, seeing many of the court becoming uncomfortable at seeing your husband’s state, and you were saddened to see Prince Aegon shake in fear, walking farther away from you. Before walking to the young boy, you felt a coarse hand grasp yours. Turning, you saw Aegon pull at your hand. Walking towards him, he reached up to you, barely kissing the corner of your mouth. You froze, stiffening at his actions and feeling dread when you made eye contact with Benjicot, whose face darkened with anger, and walked out of the room. Your eyes followed the lord as Aegon addressed the crowd.

“I thank all of you here for coming to swear loyalty to me and my queen. Even though I have not made many appearances in court, I know I have left my rule in the best hands possible. My lovely wife has done an excellent job in ruling in my name, and I wish to come out today so that we may take the time to honor her.” He gasped again in pain as he pushed for you to stand closer to the crowd. 

The lords and ladies smiled, clapping for their queen; what Aegon was the truth, you had ensured that the realm slowly returned to the peaceful times of King Viserys. Shyly, you smiled at the crowd before turning back to your husband, urging him to return to his chambers, seeing him in pain. You may not fully love your husband, but you were not cruel to enjoy him in pain. He nodded and kissed your hand again before leaving with his guards. Sighing, you clapped your hands, asking for the bards to play joyful songs for dances. 

Turning to the prince and princess, you saw how pale they were from Aegon’s appearance; you comforted them and let one of your councilmen know that you were also retiring with the children, not noticing how a certain councilman, followed you out and then changed course towards the king’s chambers. You spent an hour with each child, reading them sweet Valryian tales until they relaxed enough to sleep. Smiling, you kissed each child goodnight before walking out and making your way to the Queen’s Chambers. As you were a few steps from your chamber, you felt an arm grab yours. You spun to punch your attacker, but your hand was quickly caught as you heard a slight chuckle. You relaxed, seeing that it was Benjicot. You nodded as you addressed him. 

“My lord, pardon my attack, but I would have thought you knew better than to sneak up on your queen?” you questioned, noticing your hand still in his, but you made no move to remove it. 

“Forgive me, my queen, but I couldn’t help but notice you walking alone. Should you not have guards or ladies with you, or does your king not care what happens to his wife?” Benjicot criticized. 

You lightly scoffed, “Usually, no one outside the royal family would be this far into Meagor’s holdfast.” 

Benjicot flushed; he was caught. Still, he shook his head, backing away slightly from you. 

“I apologize; I got lost while walking around the grounds. I was trying to find my way back to the ballroom when I heard footsteps,” he confessed, his eyes softening as he fully took your appearance. 

Nodding, you point him to the correct path, wishing him goodnight as you turn away. Pausing when he called your name. 

“Lord Blackwood, I am the Queen; you do not have permission to use my name freely,” you quietly hissed at him. Feeling your chest tighten again when you heard his husky voice speak your name. 

Benjicot smiled, walking towards you, his body nearing and pressing to yours. You both stared at each other, him taking a strand of your hair. 

“Does he treat you well?” he questioned, staring into your eyes. 

Your eyes softened, nodding, “Yes, as best as he can. I hardly see him, but he is kind whenever we see each other.” 

Ben nodded; feeling reckless, he reached to caress your cheek, but you moved your face away from his touch. 

“Don’t,” you stated, your eyes hardening at him. 

Ben frowned, “I’ve missed you…” 

You cruelly laughed at his words, smirking tauntly as his frown deepened. 

“You missed me? You left Ben… You don’t get to miss me when you abandoned me when I needed you the most… You lost the right to miss me.” you angrily stated, tears slowly falling down your cheeks. 

Ben shook his head, wiping tears away from your face. You sob out as you allow yourself to lean to his touch; no matter how much you can deny it, you miss him as well. 

“I did not mean to…I had to follow my duty, to fight for our queen-” 

You shushed him. Looking around, you brought him inside your chambers. 

“Do not speak about Queen Rhaneyra freely; you could be charged with treason,” you warned him. 

“I will never deny Queen Rhaenyra’s claim, you know this, at least you did before you married her murder and become a queen-” Ben didn’t finish his sentence as you slapped him. 

“Do you think I wanted this? I never wished to be queen. I never wanted to marry him. But what other choice did I have, Ben? I was alone; the queen pushed me away because of my father’s actions. You left me, YOU LEFT. Allowing my father to force me into a marriage I did not want. What was I supposed to do? Kill myself or try to survive and marry a man who was broken. Prince Aegon would have been killed with the queen if not for me. I fought for Prince Aegon while you all were fighting silly battles. I …” you sobbed, falling to the ground in heartbreak, finally allowing your walls to break down since you walked up the blasted steps of the Sept.  

Ben swallowed bitterly; he hated seeing you cry; kneeling, he gathered you to his arms as you continued to cry in grief. Hushing you, he kissed your crown, trying to comfort you. 

After a moment, you leaned back, your face close to his. 

Ben smiled sweetly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…. When I heard you married him, I became resentful and filled with rage. The battlefield allowed me to release my anger.” 

You shook your head. Sadly, smiling as you felt a kiss on your cheek, “I don’t love him… I hoped you would have come to take me and the prince away from this golden cage. I cried at my wedding, trying to imagine that it was you who I was marrying infront of the weirwood tree, not him…but you never came. You left me, Ben.”

Ben closed his eyes in pain; he regretted not coming to take you away. 

“If I could go back, I would… I love you…I will never stop loving you,” he confessed, leaning in but stopping away from your lips. He would not dishonor you. 

You softened at him. He was still your sweet Ben. You were still his lady. As you expressed your thoughts, Benjicot grinned. Unable to stop himself, he finally kissed you. Allowing yourself to fall into his kiss, you placed your arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss. You will stop denying yourself to him. You wanted him. 

As the kiss deepened, Benjicot dragged your body closer to him, causing you to grind his lap and groan at the sensation. Feeling like he was dishonoring you, he was about to stop when you grinded yourself harder to him, taking a loud groan from his lips to yours. Ben growled, knowing he should stop. You were married and the queen, but your sweet body cast a spell on him, with each movement of your hips, called out to his groin as it stiffened with each grind. Ben pressed your hips down harder to cause the fraction to strengthen; you grabbed his other hand and placed it upon your breast, moaning as he fonded your breast. 

Separating his lips from yours, he leaned to your ears, groaning your name from your movements, “We need to stop, my queen; if you don’t… I don’t think I will stop myself…I don..dishonor…fuck.” 

He could not finish his thoughts, leaning his head back from feeling your hips circling on his lap. Forgetting his argument, he kissed your neck, sucking and biting. You gasped in delight. 

“Your queens need you, my lord, I command you to love me…I command you to take me…take me, Ben.” you pleaded, grinning as he growled and picked you up, throwing you on your bed. 

Feeling giddy, you began to undress yourself as you saw him stalking you, undressing himself along the way. Calming on the bed, he pulled your body to him. Both groaned as he rubbed his stiff cock on your wet cunt. 

“So wet for me, I bet he could never get you this wet… you're wet for me and only me, my sweet girl,” he whispered to your ear, grinning as you moaned at his teasing. 

Kissing him, you wrapped your legs around him, sighing in delight as he rubbed himself on you. “I will never know; we never consummated the marriage..” you confessed. 

You needed him to know you were still a maiden. That you never entirely gave yourself to the king, that Ben would be the only one. Benjicot froze upon hearing the news; technically, your marriage was not valid… technically you were still his as he was still yours. Grinning wildly, he kissed you more fiercely, causing you to gasp and allowing him to sneak his tongue into your mouth. As you grabbed his shoulder, you felt the slight pain of him entering you. He fully sheathed himself inside of you, pausing to let you get used to his size and girth. 

Although it was slightly painful, you were happy; no other man would be inside you, for your body and soul were committed to Benjicot Blackwood. Nodding for him to move, Ben started slowly and deeply, causing you to moan, leaning your head back on your pillows, enjoying his sweet movements and kisses on your neck. As much you loved him being sweet, you needed more; you waited too long enough to have him. 

Pleaded for him to go faster, Ben grinned, switching his position to allow him to lift his hips faster as he began to pound into you, groaning as your walls began to clench around him. He felt at home; he belongs between your legs. Moaning, you began to drag your nails down his back, locking your legs around him. 

Sounds of skin slapping became louder with the grunts, groans, and moans coming from the queen and her lord. You whispered his name like a prayer, meeting his hips with each thrust, clenching hard as he pounded into you. You needed him; you will never tire of him. Soon, both movements began to grow sloppy, feeling your release coming fast. As Ben started to exit, you quickly grabbed his upper body with your arms as your legs tightened around his hips. 

“No, I will have it no other way but inside me; finish inside me; your queen commands it, Ben,” you commanded, moaning as he slammed hard twice before feeling his hot, creamy release inside of you. Coating your walls as your release milked him of every drop he gave. 

As you finally came down from your high, you breathed heavily; he was still inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, making him look up to you. Smiling, you brought his face to yours, kissing him sweetly. Benjicot grinned, moving up to caress your face when you both heard a commotion outside. Freezing, you both quickly jumped from the bed. You change into your shift fast before turning to help him redress. Hearing the Kingsguard yell, you promptly pushed him to hide as you turned scared, the guards flying into the room. 

“My Queen!” stated a guard as you reached for a cloak. 

“Commander, what is it?” your heart beat so fast. Did they hear you and Ben? 

The commander scanned, looking for danger; when he saw nothing, he turned to you. 

“My queen, I regret that the King has been poisoned. We are looking for the culprit.” 

You gasped; Aegon was dead. Quickly, you commanded the court to enter the throne room, asking the rest of the guards to bring the children to you. As they left, you breathed. He was gone; you would no longer be queen. Turning to Ben, he left his spot, taking your face into his hands. 

“You need to go to Ben before they find you and try to blame you…I’ll see you in the throne room. I will fight for Rhaenyra’s son to be king and bring my queen’s wishes to life.”  you asked of him. 

Nodding, he kissed you once more before he began to leave. Pausing, he turned to you with a slight grin.

“After this mess, will you marry me, my queen?” he asked, causing you to blush. 

You smiled as you breathed your answer, “I will gladly be your lady. After we crown our king, I will marry you infront of the Weirwood tree at Raventree Hall. Now go quickly.” 

Benjicot dazzled you with a broad smile, turning; he quickly left you, eagerly awaiting for the future.

[sukunas-wife]

Chapter 7

Ch.1 - Ch.6

“Yuji..” I smiled softly, seeing him there before I cringed, pulling my outer robe off and throwing it over his lap as I hugged him. “What happened? Are you okay?” I sniffled wondering what exactly had happened, I pulled back, holding Yuji by the shoulders, “I thought…” he only smiled, closing his eyes as he tilted his head.

”I’m okay! Nothings wrong.” I nodded, stepping back, curious how Yuji could recover so quickly. “Alright then.” I turned to Gojo as he started to talk to Yuji. Explaining how the odds were it was a plan to have him killed, and that it would be for the best to keep Yuji hidden away practising controlling his energy output for now. I was iffy about the situation, even more when he said no one could know his location, but it also meant I wouldn’t be able to stay on the campus now that Yuji was supposedly dead, the higher ups wouldn’t be obligated to house me.

“That’s no problem, but my concern is where are you going to keep Yuji…” I watched as Gojo seemed to think about it, the mortuary being on the first basement floor gave way to privacy as he explained about private rooms that no one used because they were long forgotten after remodelling and the fact students and staff were sparse there was never need to use them. I nodded along as the other man who was panicking earlier came back with a set of clothes. “Thank you Ijichi” I did my best to remember his name after hearing Gojo say it. Yuji started to get dressed as the rest of us were turned away listening to Gojo elaborate more on his plan.

It wasn’t long before Morí and I were in the room setting things up for Yuji. It was a melancholic feeling asI swept up dirt and dust setting up a bed and making sure everything was clean before I would have to leave for who knows how long. I hummed clasping my hands in front of my chest, fidgeting slightly as I looked around one last time with a nod. “We’re done, I should tell him bye before we leave…” Morí from beside me gave a solemn nod in agreement. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way Lady Y/N.” I nodded, swallowing as we took the stairs to leave the room, ending up on the basement floor hallways, making our way to the room where we left Yuji with the others. I opened the door, he was there smiling and nodding along with Gojo, he turned to me with a bright smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Everything’s ready.”

The short walk back to the room felt strange, Gojo was leading the way, Yuji was beside me bent in a weird angle to rest his head on my shoulder as we walked. I smiled, shaking my head as we got to the room, I let him go in after Gojo before I followed. I listened as Gojo explained everything to Yuji now that he was able to pay attention. At the end of the conversation I managed to zone back in, turning to Yuji who was sitting on the sofa holding a weird green plushie. “Yuji.” I called his name looking at him with a soft smile, he turned to me and smiled back, “I’ll be leaving soon, so I suppose this means I wont see you for a while.” I moved closer, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back with a soft smile, “Be good, and don’t be too reckless alright?” I saw how he looked confused before he looked up at me. I saw for a second that same child I dropped off in kindergarten, big innocent brown eyes as he asked, “What do you mean you won't see me for a while…?” I ran my hand through his hair again with a hum, “to keep you hidden away, people are going to think you’re dead, so I wont be here anymore, if you were dead that means I don’t have a place here anymore. So I'll be leaving until Gojo decides when’s a good time for you to come out of hiding.” I watched his downcast eyes, the slight pout on his face as he looked down in thought, “You won't forget me?” I smiled, shaking lightly as I laughed, “You said that same thing when I first left you in kindergarten, you know.” He smiled as I hugged him by my side, “Call me if you need anything alright?” He nodded leaning into my side, “I love you.” I rubbed his arm and shoulder offering comfort, he nodded along, mumbling back, “I love you too.” I smiled as I pulled away, “Be good then.” He smiled nodding as I turned to Gojo, “Take care of my Yuji.” Gojo just smiled holding up a hand the other tucked behind his back. “Of course Miss.L/N, I'll make sure he’s better than you left him.” I nodded turning to Morí, he closed his eyes nodding, “Lead the way Lady Y/n” I started to walk out ready to pack up and leave, but a part of me wanted to stay, leaving now would mean, leaving my son and my husband. I swallowed, feeling the weight on my chest, ignoring it as I pushed myself to go. I pulled my Kimono tighter as we walked to the small house where we had been staying. I passed the two kids, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki, who were sitting on the steps of the building. I turned to Morí who looked at them also, he turned his face away knowing it wasn’t our place to say anything. We took the further steps, passing them to not interrupt whatever conversation they could be having.

We made it to the house, packing what few things we had brought. Time passed slowly as we made progress until there was a knock at the door. I looked at the door not sensing anything unfamiliar as I slid it open. There was Fushiguro Megumi. I was concerned to see him staring straight down at the floor with a dead expression, before I spoke up. “Fushiguro Megumi.” He looked up, almost sympathetic, it was then I understood what it was about. I nodded along to the silence. “There was nothing you could have done, there are times where fate cant be altered, you shouldn’t hold yourself to fault, I hold no anger against you Fushiguro Megumi, nor against Satoru Gojo.” The silence hung heavy as I watched him clench his jaw and fists. The distress was clear over his face as I took a breath, to think of what I should do or say, I settled for the only way I knew how, I pulled him into a hug, using hand to guide his head to rest against my shoulder and chest holding him there, my other hand on his back as I whispered, “Forgive me Fushiguro Megumi, I can heal the body, but I can't repair a broken heart.”

I felt how he held onto my Kimono. I stood there. I had learned long ago with Yuji when he was a child, when someone desperately needs to be held, especially children, you should never pull away until they let go when they feel more stable. I patted and rubbed his back in circles, consoling him as he held on in silence. Time passed and I watched the sky slowly fade to orange, when he pulled away, I put my hands on his shoulders as he avoided looking at my face. I brought one hand to his chin, lifting his face, holding his cheek in one hand. I looked at him with a soft smile running my thumb over his cheek. “You will be alright in time.”

—- —- —- —- —-

The days were long and quiet as I spent the days in the temple working miracles and healing people. Donations flooding in by gratitude by those who’ve been suffering and finally found healing. I hummed, running my hands over a pregnant woman’s stomach, “Ah your sons so lively, I can feel him kicking.” She smiled “this is the first time in a while he’s been really moving.” I hummed with a soft smile, using my reverse cursed technique, I could sense where the muscles around her womb were tearing, carefully mending the muscles back together I hummed content hearing her sigh in relief. “It really feels like the stress and burning in my stomach has calmed down, do you know what it was?” I nodded slowly moving my hands off her stomach, ‘I’m not sure how your doctor didn’t catch it, but I’m assuming you’ve had a surgery where they needed to cut through muscle, where they mended the muscled was tearing open, its what was causing so much pain, the burning sensation was where the muscle was pulling and tearing bit by bit.” I watched her eyes widen, I smiled sympathetically nodding, “It’s all better now, you’ll be fine, even with time it shouldn’t raise up any problem”

I left the room after she thanked me, I walked around the back halls, lost in thought, not to be caught up in the day, I passed it healing people, until a certain man walked right into the private chambers.

I turned, it was obvious alone by his cursed energy, I watched him as he smiled, eyes closed and hands tucked into his sleeves. He pulled a hand out waving, I watched him, not too interested, but more concerned how he made it in without being stopped.

”Y/n.” His voice was smooth and unsettling just as any other life, “Kenjaku” we stared at one another, his head tilted down, he looked at me with lidded eyes, I could feel the heat of my emotion rising. “What are you doing here?”

”Well, I’m pretty sure it's obvious, it wouldn’t be the first time we cross paths now would it? Now, if I'm not wrong I'm pretty sure somewhere along the line we had a conversation similar to this, are you still so set on doing things your way?”

I watched how you stood there, thinking of what to say, “I’m not siding with your ideals, I could never support someone who could do things as vile as you did when you were experimenting with humans. We stand on uneven ground, there will never be a day we see eye to eye, there will never be a day where I would even think of standing on your level”

The room wasn’t tense, we both knew where we stood, we both knew the other couldn’t be swayed, there was no reason to argue or get hostile.

”hmm” I listened intently, not willing to let anything slip by, “Well, if you're so set in your decision I suppose I'll only be generous to make my offer once everything moves closer to the end line.”

I swallowed, nodding, “I doubt I’ll take your offer even then, we'll just have to see who stands where.”

The silence in the room remained the same, we stood there staring at the other, a silent conversation, where everything that needed to be said was said, I watched a wicked grin move over his lips head tilting forward slightly, “Well then, we will just have to stand back and see how everything plays out then.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Once again the days passed slowly, I knelt at the shrine in my room at the temple, lighting incense as I mumbled in vain, Sukuna would never be able to hear me this way, but it brought a sense of comfort as I bowed my head to an old painting i had set on the shrine table. “Ryomen…, please, please, if at any point in time, you hear these words please, I beg whatever plans you have with Kenjaku, don’t see them through.”

I begged internally, feeling my heart shaking in my chest, “Please.”

I stood up, turning to go on with the day, the day was just as slow as any other, until I felt a stab in my ribs, I tensed up, Morí who was with me didn’t let it go by unmentioned as he was quick to drop everything. “LADY Y/N! Are you alright?!” I leaned onto him feeling the stinging pain subside before it came back again. “We need to go, I need to see Itadori”

Mori looked up at me confused as he supported my side, “Lady Y/n Satoru Gojo said we shou-MORI,” I looked at him in desperation, “Please, I know something is wrong, this is just like last time, Please.”

The silence that settled between us wasn’t tense, but we knew the decision was made. It was quick work of Mori grasping his hands together and giving me a weary look before he spoke a small chant activating his technique.

It was an instant of standing behind the school, there was Satoru gojo and others looking at a veil, I didn’t bother to stay around immediately setting off to find Yuji, this isn’t about anyone else if not my son. Mori was right behind me as we made haste tracking Sukuna’s faint cursed energy in Yuji.

We made it to the dead forest, a tall grey curse with a bloom on its shoulder, I didn’t see Yuji, I held up a hand ready to unleash an attack until something came crashing down knocking it out the way.

“Yuji!” There was a moment of silence, that’s when everything came into place, the special grade curse, Yuji standing to side, a more built man beside him, the veil darkened sky starting to drop when I felt the attack coming, I rushed over to Yuji shielding him as a purple wave rammed through everything clearing a path.

I held on tight to Yuji, keeping him close to my chest until it completely passed. I let him go, stepping back to look at him as I held him by his shoulders at arms length. “Yuji! Are you okay?” I felt my heart still racing as I looked over at him, he smiled rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah! I’m fine mom!” I sighed relieved, “Yuji, thank goodness you're okay, I was SO SCARED, I turned to look at the other guy who was standing not to far off, he seemed proud as he stood by watching, before he squinted at me looking uneasy as he asked, “Who are you?”

I felt my brows drop slightly as I let go of Yuji turning to the boy, “I should be asking who you are.” He seemed amused as he laughed, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to his chin as if he were thinking. “What an excitable woman.” I made a face shaking my head no as I turned to Yuji, he smiled. “This is Toudo.” I nodded along, “I see.”

I nodded along, turning back to Toudo, “well, it's nice to meet you Toudo, but don’t call me an excitable woman, I'm not too sure my husband would appreciate that. But, my name is L/n F/n, I’m Yuji’s mother.”

I watched as Toudo opened his eyes, a smile on his face, “My brothers, mother.” I nodded slowly thinking over what he had said. “Brothers….mother.. brother?” I turned to Yuji curious, “What’s this about?”

Yuji perked up, “Oh, it's kinda confusing, Toudo actually helped me understand a few things I’ve been struggling with, he says we’re brothers…”

I nodded along, “I see…”

—- —- —- —- —-

Authors Note

I really wanted to go with the Canon time line, but the more I type the more I realize it would be ridiculously long. So- time to create alternate time line so everyone can be happy 🥹

also Sukuna is very much Husband material after I read the last chapter

—- —- —- —- —-

@needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @t4naiis @blkmystery @the2ndl @too-pretty-to-live @v-sh @officialjellydoughnut @f1uveryysblog @wsp1st @ivysenpai3 @babyqueen17 @lupita97lm @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @avyannasstuff @nameless-mushroom-warrior r @fullwriterpoem @nanamisbigassschlong @queen-luna-007 @pupbistro @clxvrs @dangerous-girls-world @saiyara05 @honeybachira @sizzlingsongblaze-blog @theirbitxch @bluusugar @itszzmoon @venus-seeks @abdce12345

[obguro]

Our Last Goodbye

A KNY x Male Reader —— !?

> The Final Battle came to an end but so did most of the others..

> Warnings: angst, survivors guilt, gore descriptions, manga spoilers, characters deaths, Y/N sees the characters as family here

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Tanjiro, you’re back!”

Y/N heard as he stirred awake. He looked around his surroundings, seeing the many corpses of his comrades.

Did we win?.. Is Kibutsuji dead?.. Y/N’s head raced with questions.

Y/N started to sit up slowly, wincing in pain as the slashes on his body start to ache. A kakushi took noticed of the boy gasping then yelled, “Master Y/N! You’re alive!” A few kakushis went running over to him, beginning to treat his wounds.

Are the others okay?.. Y/N started to wonder, as he started to fall unconscious again.

TIMESKIP — A Few Months Later

Y/N opened his eyes, expecting to see the gruesome sight of his deceased comrades, only for him to see a wood ceiling above him.

Weren’t we fighting Kibutsuji? Why am I in the Butterfly Mansion? Thoughts filled his head as the boy started to sit up, resting his back on the bed frame behind him.

He looked around the infirmary, noticing he was alone in the room. If I’m here, where is Shinobu? She would always stay by my side when I got injured.. Y/N wondered.

I should go find her.. She might be worried about me.. The (h/c) haired boy slowly stood up from the bed, sore from being bedridden for so long.

Y/N carefully walked towards the door, sliding it open. Shutting the door behind him, he started to walk down the hallway towards Shinobu’s office.

Why is it so quiet? Where is everyone? Y/N was deep in thought, not noticing the figure that froze in place at the sight of the awaken male. The surprised voice of a woman spoke up from behind him.

“Y-Y/N.. You’re awake..”

Y/N turned towards the voice, recognizing it. It was Aoi, someone who he thought of as a sibling. He let out a gentle smile at the blue haired girl. “Hello Aoi.. are you alright? You’re crying.” The male walked towards her, cupping her face to wipe away her tears. Aoi almost collapsed at the sight of her older brother figure before pulling him into a tight hug. “I- I didn’t think you would wake up! I’m so happy!” Aoi yelled out in happiness, crying into the taller male’s shoulder.

Y/N softly smiled at the words of the girl, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting manner.

Y/N was known for his soft and caring manner. He was a soft spoken boy who always loved and cared for everyone.

The male pulled out of the hug after a while, gently smiling down at the girl. “Don’t cry, It makes me sad to see you tears in your eyes..” Wiping away the tears from her face, Aoi smiled back at him. “Well, I should go check on my other patients. I’m glad you’re okay.” The girl said before walking away from him and into one of the many infirmary rooms.

Y/N watched as the girl walked away, still smiling. He then turned to keep walking to his original destination, excited to see the woman he thought of as a one of his mother figures.

Opening the door to the office, he walked in. He glanced around the room to see nobody in the room.

That’s weird.. Where could she be?

Y/N walked out of the office space and in back into the hallway. Suddenly a kakushi turned the corner, freezing when they saw the familiar figure of Y/N.

Y/N tilted his head at the kakushi before asking, “Excuse me, do you know where Miss Shinobu is? I would like to see her.” The kakushi gulped at the question, realizing the boy had no idea on what had happened. Nothing could’ve prepared Y/N for the words that came out of the kakushi’s mouth.

“You don’t know? Most of the Hashira have passed, only Master Tomioka and Shinazugawa survived.”

Y/N froze in shock at the information.

Passed? As in dead? They’re all dead?

Shinobu. Gyomei. Obanai. Mitsuri. Muichiro.

They’re all gone?..

Y/N let out a weak smile at the kakushi. “Oh.. Thank you for telling me, I didn’t know.” The kakushi could see the pain the information caused on the boys face, no matter how much he tried to act strong in front of them. “If you’d like to, you can visit their graves. They’re rested in the same place as Master Rengoku.” The kakushi stated with a small sad smile.

Y/N just weakly nodded at them, before excusing himself. The boy walked back his room with head hanging low, his usual face that was usually in a happy state was now in one of pain, sadness and guilt.

The boy sat down on the side of his bed, lost in the memories flashing through his head of his passed loved ones.

A memory of him and Shinobu when Y/N had accidentally fell on his face flashed first. The boy was training then he had suddenly tripped over a rock, falling face first into the other rocks. Blood ran down from his nose, turns out he had broken it from the fall. He then walked to the infirmary to find Shinobu to help him with his injured nose. He found the woman and she just giggled at his clumsiness, starting to clean up the youngers nose.

“You need to be more careful Y/N. I don’t like seeing you hurt, you know.”

The next memory was him and Gyomei playing with Hashiras adopted cats. The younger boy held a grey and white patterned cat while the other held an orange printed one. Y/N liked cats as did Gyomei. Y/N looked at Gyomei as the older was stroking the fur of the many cats.

“Young Y/N, thank you for your help today. These cats can be a bit of a handful sometimes, so I thank you.”

The next one was one where him, the Love Hashira and the Serpent Hashira were out to eat. Y/N considered these two as parental figures to him. The boy and Mitsuri can be seen talking, both laughing a bit as Obanai just watched them with a small smile under his mask. Y/N felt at peace whenever he was with these two. He felt safe.

“Y/N, the three of us should go the festival in the Entertainment District and watch the fireworks together! Right Obanai? I think so too, it would be fun.”

The last memory showed him and Muichiro sitting in the middle of a field of flowers. The two boys staring up at the clouds in the sky, occasionally pointing out the shapes of them. Y/N shifted his gaze to the boy that he saw as a younger brother. Muichiro noticed the eyes on him, then shifted his gaze onto the male in front of him.

“I feel safe with you.. because no matter what, I always remember you. It’s new to me but it must be a good thing.”

Y/N’s usual calm demeanor crumbled and switched to one of anger and sadness. The boy got up from the bed, stomping his way over to a vase that sat on one of the tables in the room.

With little to no hesitation, the boy started to destroy the room around him. He didn’t know how to cope with all these losses, so he had resorted to letting his anger out.

A little while later, Y/N is curled up into a ball in a corner of the room. The room around him destroyed to bits, nothing left unbroken.

It should’ve been me, not them… Y/N kept thinking from his ball as tears fell down his face. He stayed in that position till nightfall, motionless.

A knock was heard from the door, before it slid open. It was Aoi coming to check on him.

“Y/N.. What happened in here?” Aoi questioned as she looked around the room. Bed out of the frame, glass and wood shards covering the floor. Y/N didn’t respond from the corner, still lost in the memories of his loved ones. Aoi approached him, making sure not to go to fast so she didn’t trigger any ill emotions. The sight of his state broke her heart. Y/N’s usual (h/l) (h/c) hair that was tied up was now down, some parts of his hospital clothes ripped, and some cuts decorated his skin from all the glass thrown.

Aoi’s frown deepened before reaching out to grab the males shoulder. Without a word shared, the younger girl pulled the older into a comforting and warm hug. As the boy was embraced, he started to tear up again. The hug reminding him of when Shinobu would embrace him when he was feeling down. Even though the memories caused hardcore emotional pain, he melted into the embrace of his younger sister figure.

As Aoi questioned in her head what could’ve caused the usual calm boy to have an outburst this large, her answer got answered when she looked at the item in the hands of the boy, the boy held a photo of him, Master Kagaya, Lady Amane, his children and all of the Hashira.

In the photo, it showed Master Kagaya in the middle with his children while holding the hand of his wife, all showing a small smile. The rest of the Hashira and Y/N surrounded around them, some caught off guard and some smiling brightly. To the left of the Master, Sanemi is seen next to Shinobu who was clearly teasing Giyuu. To the side of expressionless male, it showed Rengoku and Tengen smiling brightly towards the camera. To the right of the Master, Gyomei who had his hands in his usual praying position, was the closest to the master. Next to him was Muichiro, who was gazing at Y/N. Y/N was positioned in front of Mitsuri and Obanai, smiling a big smile at the camera. The two behind the male each had a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Mitsuri letting out a big smile and Obanai who was caught admiring the girl of his dreams.

Aoi knew how much everyone meant to the older boy, he loved them like they were his blood related family. Aoi shut her eyes and just held the boy close to her, as he started to sob into her shoulder.

TIMESKIP — A Week Later

After the anger outburst, Y/N refused to do anything. He wouldn’t get up. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t talk.

He also couldn’t bring himself to visit the graves of the ex-hashira, as the guilt was eating him alive. Why was he allowed to live but not them? It wasn’t fair. The boy just stayed cuddled up in his bed, staring at the photo.

I miss them so much… The (h/c) haired boy wanted to cry but there were no tears left to cry. Y/N kept making up scenarios in his head about things he could be doing with them if they were still alive.

He could be drinking tea with Shinobu and Gyomei.

He could be cloud gazing with Muichiro.

He could be flower picking with Mitsuri and Obanai.

There was a knock on the door, pulling Y/N out of his thoughts. The door slid open to reveal a tall male, Tengen Uzui. Y/N continued to stare at the photo, like it was going to disappear if he looked away.

Tengen was the first to step forward with a sad smile. “Oh Y/N.. are you alright?” Those words. Tengen was always treated him like a little brother, and Y/N saw him as an older brother. Whenever he was down, Tengen would always try to put a smile on the face of the boy.

The male didn’t respond to the white haired male as he sat down. Now sitting next to the male, Tengen pulled the youngers head onto his lap gently, beginning to run his fingers through his hair.

Tengen glanced at the photo the male held, a sad smile was shown on his face. He looked down at Y/N before speaking, getting straight to the point. “You know they wouldn’t like to see you like this Y/N.” He spoke as Y/N tensed at the words. He knew that, he knew it very well. He couldn’t help but feel extreme guilt.

“You can’t stay like this forever, and you know very well they would be yelling at you if they saw you like this over them.” Tengen continued. Y/N stayed silent, listening to the words spoke towards him.

The two sat in silence for a while, enjoying each others company. Suddenly, the sliding door opened to show Tengen’s wives. “Lord Tengen, we have to get back to the estate.” Hinatsuru spoke, as her eyes fell soft at the sight of the two. Tengen nodded before standing up, gently placing Y/N’s head back onto the pillow. “Feel better kiddo, always we remember we’re here for you and we all love you very much.” Tengen said with a sad smile, before exiting the room with his wives.

Y/N stayed in his spot, thinking about his words.

I can’t keep being sad.. They wouldn’t want that..

Y/N sat up in the bed, (h/c) hair sticking everywhere. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and dragging himself to his newly replaced desk.

TIMESKIP — Location: The Cemetery

Y/N gulped as he reached the entrance of the cemetery, guilt creeping into his stomach. He takes a deep breath while glancing at the things he had in his hand. A bouquet of flowers and a bag consisting of 6 letters.

He made his way into the cemetery consisting of all of the deceased demon slayers, walking towards where the 6 deceased hashiras were put to rest. Looking down at the graves, he could feel his eyes starting to water again.

He then kneeled in front of the first grave.

It belonged to Rengoku Kyojuro. Y/N wished he had more time with him, though it seemed he had bad luck because Rengoku had passed before he could.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, pulling a white rose from the bouquet then placing it on the grave. He then reached into the bag of letters, searching for one that was addressed to Rengoku and pulling it out.

“I hope you don’t mind if I talk with you, Rengoku-san..”

Y/N shakily started to read the letter out loud.

“Dear Rengoku-san, I hope you’re resting well and have found peace. I only knew you for a little while yet you fought to protect me and my friends. I am entirely grateful and in your debt, I’ll be sure to repay it if we meet again. Your smile was the most contagious one I have encountered, it could light of a room of pitch black. You were one of the most kindest people I have ever met. You were strong yet precious soul. Please continue to smile forever.

Sincerely; Y/N L/N.”

As Y/N finished reading out the letter, a tear fell down his face and onto the paper. Y/N let out a sad smile towards the grave, folding the letter and placing it next to the white rose.

Standing up, he then bowed a low bow in deep respect before moving onto the next grave.

This one belonged to Himejima Gyomei. Y/N kneeled down before placing the same rose on the Stone Hashiras gravestone. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out the letter he wrote to Gyomei.

Y/N started to read out loud again.

“Dear Himejima-san, I trust you are at peace and this letter find you well. I just wanted to say how entirely grateful for the kindness you showed to me. Even though me and my friends had shown up with a demon in tow, you still treated us with kindness and so I thank you again. You fought to protect everyone, probably knowing you weren’t going to survive in the aftermath. You were so strong and brave, I wish to obtain that level of bravery. Thank you for your service.

Sincerely; Y/N L/N.”

Y/N finished with a shaky tone, mind flashing through the memories with the tall man. Placing down the letter next to the rose, he stood up and bowed into another bow of eternal respect. Y/N walked to the next one, kneeling down.

This one belonged to Tokito Muichiro, though his body was never found and just some of his stuff was buried. Y/N felt his heart start to ache just at the thought of Muichiro never getting found. Ignoring the feeling, he had placed a white rose also onto the young boys grave. Y/N hoped that Muichiro would still be able to hear his words as he pulled the letter out of the bag.

Y/N started to read out loud once more.

“Dear Tokito, I hope you are resting in peace. I wanted to write this letter to you to tell you how much I appreciated and respected you. You were so young yet you fought so bravely to protect. I admire you greatly for that. You were such a beautiful soul, I hope you were able to reunite with your family. I will forever see you as my little brother Muichiro. I hope to find you in the next life.

Sincerely; Your Big Brother, Y/N L/N.”

Y/N finished the letter with a sad smile, placing the letter down. The male stood up before bowing in respect for the younger male before moving to the next grave.

This grave belonged to one of his closest friends, Kocho Shinobu. The tears in his eyes threatened to fall as he kneeled down in front of it. Letting out a shaky breath as he placed a rose on the grave, pulling the letter he prepared out of the bag.

He started to read.

“Dear Kocho-san, I trust you are resting well? How is Kanae, if you met her? I’m sorry it took me so long to visit, I just couldn’t bring myself to do so and I’m sorry. I wanted to say how proud I am to able to know you. You were so smart and strong and please don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Everyone misses you at the mansion, including me. Please rest now, don’t worry I’ll take care of everyone.

Sincerely; Y/N L/N.”

Y/N choked out the last bit of the letter. He let out a deep sigh, attempting to calm his breathing down before placing the letter in its rightful place. He stood up with shaky legs then going into another bow, mentally preparing for the last grave.

He stumbled his way over the the shared grave of Kanroji Mitsuri and Obanai Iguro, his two parental figures. Kneeling down before the grave, he grabbed the last two roses and placing them down. Y/N stared at the grave in silence for a few seconds, then grabbing the letter written to Obanai.

Choking back a sob, he started to read.

“Dear Obanai-san, I hope you and Mitsuri are resting well together. You of all people deserve it, you have suffered so much. I hope you know that you are one of the most important people to step foot in my life. Dare I say, I considered you as a father figure. I hope to see you in another life. Please rest peacefully and don’t worry, I’ll take care of Kaburumaru.

Sincerely; Y/N L/N.”

Y/N finished, a few tears escaping and falling down his cheek. He started to wipe his tears with the back of his hand, attempting to make them stop. He grabbed the last letter with shaking hands and unfolded it.

Y/N started to read out.

“Dear Mitsuri-san, I hope you’re resting well. Maybe even with Iguro-san. I wanted to write this letter to tell you about how you have changed my life and how I am so grateful for you. When I met you, I was in a dark space. I had witnessed my family die in front of me and thought I would never feel that feeling of parental love ever again. Yet you and Iguro proved me wrong. Everyday you two would make sure I felt loved. I consider you two as my parents and I am so proud to do so. Thank you so much for for everything, Mitsuri.

Sincerely; Your Son, Y/N L/N.”

By the time the boy finished, he was a sobbing mess. Tears fell down his face as he let out loud sobs, resting his head against the gravestone. Y/N held the letter close to his heart as he cried. The boy cried till he fell asleep. The (h/c) haired boy was resting peacefully,

Not noticing the 6 see through figures behind him, smiling at him and his words.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Taisho Era Secret

> Y/N got reborn as one of Mitsuri and Obanai’s kids.

[promptthebear]

Could you do a 🐰 Drabble with Peter for 27?? Or anyone really, I just think that it needs to get out in something thank youu

Below the Belt

Tormund Giantsbane x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Tormund is in love with you. It isn’t reciprocated, and a little wager goes horribly wrong.

CW: Swearing. Tormund behaving like a little boy with a crush, think pulling pigtails for attention. Kind of enemies to lovers dynamics but not quite. Mild implications that the reader has been abused. 2nd person, reader is referred to as "you"

A/N: I’m baaaaaaaccckk! This is my first time writing for Tormund so pls be nice.

Tormund was bored, which meant he had gone from being a tolerable pest to the biggest, loudest nuisance in all the Seven Kingdoms. Even worse, he had somehow used the ale soaked lump he called a brain to convince himself that he was besotted with you. And so, since Brienne had found you wandering through the ass end of the North and started bringing you back to your half brother on the Wall you hadn’t known a moment’s peace.

“Can’t you make him shut up?” you begged the lady knight one evening, not even bothering to hide your desperation. You’d been through a lot these last few months, far too much to have stupid stories about she-bears and giant’s tits be the thing that finally broke you.

“Trust me, my Lady,” Brienne replied, not even glancing up from where her whetstone slid across the edge of her blade “If I knew how, I would’ve done so the moment I met him.”

You glanced over your shoulder to shoot Tormund a withering look. As though he knew he was being discussed, the giant Wildling met your glare with a broad smile and a wink. You scoffed, tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders and stared into the meagre flames of your small campfire. Perhaps if you looked at it long enough and wished hard enough, it would suddenly blossom into a full hearth complete with a pot of mulled wine and aurocs on a spit. And perhaps, dragons would live again and every last one of the Lannisters would drop dead by morning.

“Y’cold, beauty?”

The first time you’d heard Tormund address someone as such, it had been Brienne. However, when she’d shoved the tip of her sword against the hollow of his throat and told him she’d forsake her honor without hesitation should he even think about calling her that again, he’d awarded the title to you. You’d also threatened his life in increasingly creative ways whenever he did so, but unfortunately your words didn’t have the same impact as Brienne’s. Instead, they only seemed to spur the stupid man on and multiply his interest in you tenfold.

“No,” you shot back, your tone just as icy as your frozen toes. “Not in the least.”

“Then why are you shivering?” Tormund asked, eyes gleaming “A delicate little southron blossom like you isn’t meant to sit in the snow.”

“I’m from the bloody North, Tormund. How many times need I tell you?!”

The giant made a rude noise in response, blowing air between his lips and shaking his head.

“No, girl. I’m from the North. The Real North. You Winterfell lot and your ilk are nothing more than a lot of Southern twats who wandered too far up the coast and were too busy freezing your arses off to bother going back.”

“Lady-” this came from Podrick, who usually was too shy to say much to you but even he could recognize that Tormund had taken things a step too far. You were on your feet and bearing down on the Wilding before you even really understood what was happening.

“How dare you?! How dare YOU?! I am a Stark. My ancestors were the Kings of Winter. My father, his grandfather and his great grandfather were all Wardens of the North. We are descended from the First of Men, we drove the Andals out of Westeros and brought Kings to their knees. We have endured for hundreds of years, and thrived where lesser men have withered. Our crypts go as far back as-”

As quickly as your tirade began, it stopped with the faint sound of your teeth clicking as your jaw snapped shut. Echoes of your enraged speech bounced around the clearing, your righteous anger drifting up into the bare branches of the skeleton trees and into the black night sky beyond. Your cheeks still burned hot with ire and your chest heaved, your breaths coming in shaky huffs while your hands fisted and tangled around handfuls of your skirts. Were it not for the love you bore your late mother, you would have reached out and shook Tormund’s neck until it snapped. Because even after the earful he’d just gotten, the fucking fool was laughing at you.

Not just a little chuckle, either. Tormund’s head was tossed back against his shoulders, his mouth open wide while tears streamed from his eyes, laughing as though he would never stop. The flush on your cheeks quickly turned from one of anger to one of embarrassment. Of course. You had fallen right in to his trap. Tormund had wanted you to become angry with him, he had poked and prodded at you the same way a bear might be baited at a feast. The intent was the same too. He was looking for amusement. Gods, how you wanted to kill him.

Eventually, the Widling man managed to quiet himself down to the point where he could speak in between a few sparse chortles though it took several deep breaths and even then, his shoulders still shook with lingering mirth.

“Well,” he said, dabbing at his eyes with the edge of his cloak “You certainly sound like a Northerner, and you’ve shown me that pretty hair of yours is for more than just good looks. But, I’m afraid you’ll always be a little Southern princess to me. Unless…”

While you sported your father’s grey eyes and your mother’s red curls, you hadn’t inherited their stoicism or their tact. You were far too often entirely bound to the whims of your temper, especially when someone waved a challenge so obviously right beneath your nose. The clever thing would have been to walk away and leave Tormund stewing for the night, but the temptation to put him in his place was far too strong.

“Unless what, you blithering idiot?”

Tormund grinned, his blue eyes turning soft as though you were cooing sweet nothings rather than barking insults. He then rose to his feet and strode over to you, his long legs closing the distance in a matter of seconds. You’d expected him to at least have enough sense to stand at arm’s length from you, but that was far too much to demand of his simple intellect. No, Tormund didn’t stop until he was practically standing on top of you, so close you could feel his breath ghosting across the crown of your head and smell the dampness on his cloak.

The sound of a sword unsheathing made you glance quickly over your shoulder, where you saw Brienne now standing with her weapon drawn. You gave a subtle shake of your head, to which she responded with an equally short nod though you noticed she didn’t remove her hand from her hilt either. You stole a brief look at Podrick as well, though the young squire had little more to offer you than a half hearted shrug.

Grumbling under your breath, you turned back to face Tormund. The sudden closeness now meant that you could no longer look the man in the eye without craning your neck upwards or taking a few steps back. Not wanting to seem intimidated by his nonsense, you chose the former and fixed the Wildling with a searing gaze. Tormund chuckled in response, the sound as rich and dark as Dornish wine. A unwanted, tingling warmth began to grow in your belly but you quickly squashed it with a hard bite to the inside of your cheek.

“Alright little one,” the giant said so softly he was nearly whispering “You want to be a real Northerner? Then show me. Show me you’re more than just talk, and I’ll believe you.”

You wrinkled your nose, but didn’t break from his stare. It felt as though his deep, ocean blue eyes were boring right in to the depths of your soul.

“How?”

Movement at Tormund’s hip made you flinch involuntarily, which caused his brow to crease in concern. However, when you didn’t react further he pushed aside his cloak and pulled out a stone knife with a bone handle. You stared at the flint blade, watching the way glinted in the faint firelight.

“If you can take this from me in the next minute or so, then I’ll believe you’re truly a Northerner…” he paused and drew in a sharp breath “And, I’ll be yours. Mind, body and soul, from now until my dying breath.”

You let out a derisive snort.

“Is that it? Truly? You’re betting your freedom on whether or not I can take your poxy knife? Tell me Tormund, are all Wildlings this stupid or are you the exception?”

You couldn’t help but relish the way the ever present grin fell from the giant man’s face. Clearly, his little proposition hadn’t garnered the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“I’m exceptional in more ways then you know, beauty.” He replied, quickly regaining his composure and leering openly at you “Though perhaps it isn’t quite fair to pit such a sweet little thing against a mighty warrior such as-”

Whatever Tormund was going to say next would forever remain a mystery. Instead, all that could be heard was a faint, guttural sort of choking sound. Tormund quite looked like he was choking too. His pale skin had turned almost as red as his hair, while his mouth hung open in a silent gasp and his wide eyes stared blindly down at the snowy ground.

“How?” he sputtered, bent double with his hands clutched over his loins.

“Easy,” you replied, tossing his knife from your right hand to your left “I have two older brothers. Three, if you count that traitorous Greyjoy fucker. When needs must, I know where to hit.”

Tormund drew in another deep breath, which was followed by a series of coughs and a few strangled laughs. For some reason, this made you grin all the wider. Even after taking a full on strike to the bollocks, Tormund could still find a reason to laugh.

“Clearly, I underestimated you girl.”

“Clearly.”

You gently placed the tip of the knife beneath Tormund’s chin, slowly tilting his face upwards so he was looking you in the eye. He looked at you as though he had just discovered his own personal goddess, and he was about to become your most devoted worshiper. The tingling warmth erupted in your gut again, though this time you didn’t try to stop it.

“Do you yield?” you asked, keeping your voice low so only Tormund could hear you. He nodded as much as the knife would allow, and swallowed hard before answering.

“Yes.” came the reply.

“And do you promise not to call me a southerner anymore?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” you said, giving Tormund’s cheek a rough pat before straightening and turning round to face Podrick and Brienne. The young squire was gawping at you with renewed fear in his eyes, while Brienne was grinning at you from ear to ear. It was the happiest you’d seen her in months.

“Will one of you please see to him?” you asked, your voice practically dripping honey “It would be a shame if our journey was delayed because Tormund was too sore to sit a saddle.”

As you began to walk away, snow faintly crunching under your boots, you saw Podrick dart past from the corner of your eye. He immediately went to Tormund, bending at the waist so he could better assess the Wilding for damage.

“Are you alright…Sir?” you heard him say hesitantly

“Oh look,” came Tormund’s reply, sounding far too pleased for someone in his condition “My will to live. It’s gone.”

[callme-holly]

Hi

I was summoned by your post :)

Uhm some really domestic fluff with Darry? Like, decorating the tree together, or helping make Christmas dinner

Or I feel like Darry would secretly save up for something Reader is fixated on for a Christmas gift and just sneak it into their stocking or whatever when they're dead asleep

'𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 [𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧 : probably wont post over christmas but enjoy y'all <33

The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and ginger, no doubt from the candle burning away on the coffee table, giving the house a warm festive feel, and a Christmas tree occupied the corner of the living room, standing tall and bare. Darry had insisted on going and getting one; it’s what his parents would have done after all, and who were you to tell him no? Besides, it looked nice, and it would look even better once it was decked out in lights and ornaments.

“It’s gonna look real pretty.” Darry hums, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, his chin resting on top of your shoulder, lips brushing the side of your neck. You don’t have to look to know he’s smiling softly. “I got the old decorations from the basement. They should last us this year.” 

You turn around in his embrace to wrap your own arms around his neck, looking up at him with soft, gentle eyes. “You’re not letting the boy help out?” 

He scoffs, shaking his head lightly. “You know how that went last year.” 

And, yeah, you do. Last year's decorations, despite being equally as beautiful, had been nothing short of disastrous, with mistletoe over every doorway and tinsel in every corner of every room. It took you multiple days to untangle the mess the brothers had made, and Darry vowed to never let them anywhere near the festive decor again. 

“Well,” you drawl, your hand cupping the back of his head, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Guess that leaves me and you in charge then.” Darry grins, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“Guess so,” He breathes against your skin, making your pulse quicken before he pulls away fully, turning to the box sitting precariously on the coffee table. 

It's packed full of all sorts of Christmas things: ornaments, candles, stockings, lights, the dreaded tinsel... There’s so much that you're unsure on where to even start, dragging out a roll of fairy lights that usually drape around the branches of the tree. 

 Darry looks over at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow as a low chuckle leaves him. “Give me those. You always end up making the knots worse.” You open your mouth, probably to protest, but he holds up a finger to forestall you, instead snatching the lights from your grip and working them back into their string-like form with large, clumsy hands. 

It's hard not to admire him when he's like this, his brow furrowed in concertration. His hair falls over his forehead in dark waves, and you resist the urge to push the strands back into place as he looks up at you with a triumphant grin. “There. All fixed… Now we just need to wrap them ‘round the tree.” 

Now it’s your turn to raise a brow. “I think I can manage that bit just fine.” You tease, taking the lights once more, knowing that it’d only end up messy if you let Darry help out.

It takes a little longer than you’d like to admit and a fair amount of frustration on your part to get everything perfectly in place, but soon enough, the tree is twinkling in the dim living room, decked out in ornaments and red ribbons. 

You smile proudly, taking a step back to admire your work, and Darry lets out a small huff of laughter, shaking his head. “We did pretty good, huh?” 

“Best job in town,” you respond, grinning at him before moving forward to wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest. He makes a soft noise in response, tilting his head down to plant a light kiss onto the crown of your head, holding you as close as humanly possible. You melt slightly against him, content to stand there for a while.

“Merry Christmas, Darry.” You whisper softly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. He doesn't reply right away, seeming to ponder something for a second before responding.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but it carries it’s usual warmth, and right there, under the glittering lights of the tree, you don’t think there’s anywhere else you’d rather be.

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x Fem!Reader | Chapter Two

Chapter One

Summary: Tim takes you to your apartment for some essentials, you begin to spill your guts on how you ended up in this situation. Your priorities still aren't straight.

A/N: I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure (real). Also, while I personally (currently) don't write super, duper dark stuff... This will definitely still be toxic. just a warning.

Warnings: murder, name calling (bitch, cunt), gun violence, your best friend and ex have names, you are the cause of a murder, your ex tried to murder you, no use of y/n, not beta'd, flashbacks (please let me know if i forgot something!)

Word Count: 2.9k (o.o)

You are sitting in a car, bloody, dirty, and shoeless. You are staring dead ahead with a look of fear on your face. You fiddle with the hem of your bloodied sweater and deeply inhale. Your stomach is feeling sick again, and you can’t tell if it’s from lack of food or the fact that Brian and Toby thought it would be best to blindfold you to get you out of the woods.

“Can’t have you knowing where you are, at least for now.” Brian told you.

You sat in the car, breathing heavily from anxiety. Not being able to see kind of makes you powerless. You had waited patiently for Tim to tell you to take the blindfold off.

“You can take that off now,” Tim had said, smirking, you could hear it.

Now, you are just sitting. “I don’t know why they blindfolded me,” You cross your arms. “Not like I could find that place again even if my life depended on it.” Let’s hope it doesn’t. You want to cry again. The feeling hits you out of nowhere. You refrain from it.

“Are we close?” Tim asks. You can’t tell if he’s trying to get your mind off of everything or get his mind off of something.

“Oh, yeah,” You snort, feeling silly. “Take a right up here. Then you’ll see an apartment complex.” Tim follows your instructions, and you see it. “Yeah, that one right there. I don’t think there are any others, so it’s kinda obvious…” You trail off. He pulls up and you give him the code to get in.

“This place is nice…” Tim takes the place in.

“Yeah,” You look at the parking lot, “especially for this little town, huh?” You are on edge. You are looking for someone’s car, Tim seems to be able to clock that from a mile away.

“Who are you looking for?” He suddenly sounds stern.

You give him an awkward, nervous smile. “I don’t live alone…” His jaw clenches. “She’s not here though! She works first shifts, and I don’t see her car.” You reassure him. Tim nods, parking the car. You realize you have to walk across the pavement to the apartments. You sigh. “Can you, like, drop me off at the door?”

“No.” Tim shakes his head. “I can carry you?” He offers.

You shake your head. You suck in air, sighing. “I’ll just walk and get sick.” Tim does not respond. He doesn’t find it amusing it would seem. You get out of the car and the cold concrete can be felt through the bandages on your feet. You want to hurry towards the building but know you can’t. Your feet and legs burn already. Maybe you should have taken Tim up on that offer…

No one seems to be in the lobby when you walk in. Tim seems on edge. You walk towards the elevator and Tim stops in his tracks. You turn to him. “No, we are not taking the stairs. I’m hurt and I live on the fourth floor.” Tim doesn't want to argue. Maybe he feels bad for you, maybe he just doesn’t want to cause a scene. You can’t tell. You both enter the elevator and lean back against the railing. You look up at the mirror on the ceiling and realize just how fucked up you look. You see a leaf in your hair. You pull it out.

Tim groans, “Sorry, Toby said he got all of those out. I told him I’d do it, but he insisted on being the one to pull all the twigs and leaves out of your hair.”

“How sweet.” You deadpan.

The elevator stops and the both of you make your way out. You lead Tim down the hallway and to your apartment. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I don’t have my key.”

Tim looks uneasy.  You try to think of a way to get in and the door swings open. You let out a short scream and jump into Tim. He grunts and steadies you.

“What are you doing at home? And… You’re with a man?”

“Val!” You whisper, “you’re supposed to be at work!” You speak through gritted teeth.

Val’s eyes look over you and they widen. You tense. Tim’s hand goes to the small of your back immediately. She wants to pull you into the apartment, her hand twitches. You see her gears turning. You suck in air through your nose, jaw clenched.

“Can we come in?” You ask.

As you say ‘we’ Val’s eyes move to Tim. She is frozen. After a short moment of awkward silence, Val moves to the side. You rush in, Tim hot on your trail. Val closes the door and places her back to it.

“Can I-”

“No,” you respond before she can say anything. “I’m just here to collect some things. I’m still on vacation.” You reassure her.

“You packed before you left.” She states it, her eyes not leaving Tim. She can see how bloody you are, and how clean Tim is. She is obviously connecting dots that something is wrong, and completely off.

“I know love,” Your voice suddenly changes, Tim notices it. “Do not worry about me.” Val nods, her eyes glazing over. “I’m just here to grab some shoes and some essentials. I promise, everything is okay,” You lie.

“Everything is okay…” She responds. Her voice is monotone. She turns and goes to her room.

You turn away from Tim and walk towards your room. You grab a duffle bag, the only bag you hadn’t taken on vacation, and begin to fill it. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes. You quickly wipe your eyes and try to sniffle quietly.

“Are you crying?” Tim asks softly, but still completely on edge.

“No.” You snap. You walk to your bathroom, Tim close behind you still. “Can you get off my ass?” You mumble. Tim shakes his head, you see it from the corner of your eye. You turn around and narrow your eyes. You cross your arms and look at him. “I promised Val I’d never fucking do that to her!” Your voice is dangerously low. “And I just- I just did…” You break.

“Are you-” Tim starts. He doesn’t finish. He knows whatever he’s about to say is going to set you off a little more.

“I’m fucking terrified…” You are crying; trying to keep from sobbing. “I don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen-” You stop yourself. You wipe your face again and let out a guttural groan. You turn from Tim and grab some of the things around the bathroom. You throw face wash, a toothbrush, deodorant, body wash, tampons, and some hair care into your bag. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be gone. You are preparing for the worst.

You go back to your bed and sit down. You look at the different shoes and grab the most comfortable pair of sneakers and then a pair of socks. You look down at your feet. You examine the somewhat bloody and definitely dirty bandages.

“They need to be redone.” Tim clocks his tongue. “The bandages.”

No shit. You refrain from saying something stupid. “I’ll just- We can redo these later. I need to get the fuck outta here.” You slide an old pair of Crocs on and shove the shoes and socks in your bag. In all, you had grabbed a couple outfits, some essentials (that probably shouldn’t have been priority), and most importantly, shoes. You throw the bag over your shoulder and walk by Tim and out of your room.

“I’m leaving!” You shout to Val. “I love you!”

“I love you!” She replies, a little more joyous than how she sounded earlier. But she still doesn't sound… Normal.

You walk back towards the elevator. You and Tim step in and you notice him staring at you. You give him a funny look. “You didn't change your clothes. Didn't you wanna do that?” He furrows his brows.

“After I shower. I need to scrub this dirt and blood off of me.” Tim stares at you harder as you smash the ground floor button. “What?”

“You don't wanna shower at your apartment?”

“Didn't know that was an option… I was just hoping that ‘Toby’s place’ has hot water.” Your use of air quotes makes Tim laugh. You aren't sure if that’s reassuring or not. You let it go.

“It does. Probably not for long. But it does.” 

You nod. You make your way back out to the parking lot and into the car. You throw your bag in the back seat and sit back up front. You look down at the blindfold and back at Tim. “Do I need to–”

“Not yet.” He shifts in his seat. You nod and bite the inside of your lip. “Your roommate… she knows about your–”

“Yes.” You cut him off. “She knows about my ability.” Duh. “She thinks I’d never use it on her…”

“You never have?” He asks, his voice genuine and curious.

“No!” You shake your head. “Not until just a bit ago! I had never really, um– I never used it for anything bad until last night.”

Tim's grip on the steering tightens. “What do you mean ‘bad’.”

“Well, I really just did little things. Mostly when I would drink… I haven't drank in a while though. But last night– I wasn't drinking, I was minding my own business and I– I did what I had to do! I did the only thing I could do!”

“What did you do?” You know he's trying to get information, really. What else would he be doing? But you're emotional and about to bust from keeping everything to yourself.

“He had a gun! He was gonna shoot me!” You are panicking, recounting it. You are remembering too well.

_-_-_-_-_

You were in the middle of the woods. Your eyes were wide and full of fear.

“Do not think about it, bitch!”

“Please, John!” You begged. “I'm not– I won't tell anyone. I'll do anything– please…”

“Anything?” He questioned you. You nodded. “Aw,” he feigns sadness, “now you wanna be a slut? Too bad. Should’a thought about that when we were together.”

You stared in horror. “John. You have a great life! You are literally doing what you've always wanted! Being private investigator–”

“Do not use that magic on me, witch bitch!”

“What are you– What do you mean?” You were shocked to your core.

“I heard about what you can do. I had to come back to see for myself. Y'know, it makes sense. The free drinks at the bar? Thought it was just ‘cause of the way you dressed. But thinking about it, you definitely had those bartenders in a fucking trance, huh?” You were stunned. “Also, the fact you made me leave you alone when you didn't wanna–”

That struck a chord. “I never used that on you!”

John's eyes darkened and his smile widened. That was all the evidence he needed. You wanted to kick yourself. His hand moved to the gun on his hip and you let out a shout before he was on top of you covering your mouth. The both of you tussled briefly, but you ended up on the floor. The gun was pressed to your temple. You began to cry. Hard.

“Oh, shut up cunt.” He growled out. “I should make you suffer. For all the things you've done… I'm nice though, I promise this will be quick.”

You began to panic. His hand moved from your mouth and he steadied himself over you. You used that to your advantage.

“Get off of me.” Your voice did not break. Your eyes locked with his. His eyes glazed over and he moved off of you.

“No!”

You furrowed your brows at John. Most people did not break away that fast. He pointed the gun at you again.

“Stop. Put the gun down.” He listened. “I do not want to hurt you. Please leave and just forget about this.” You plead with him. “I'm not using my ‘magic’, just leave.”

John screamed, frustrated and infuriated. “Are you mocking me!?” The gun is pointed back at you again.

Fuck, I'm gonna have to– “Put the gun to your head.” You knew you couldn't look away. Not if you wanted it to work.

“Stop!” He was beginning to beg. “You will regret this!”

“Then leave!” You shouted.

“I can't let you go!” He was forceful.

You still had a grip on him. The gun was still against his temple. “Put your finger on the trigger.” Tears brimmed your eyes. What the fuck am I doing? You felt incredibly sick and confused. You did not want to die, but you also did not want to kill him.

“Please! I’ll leave!” His voice broke.

You held back a sob. You knew that wasn’t true. He was lying. He was going to kill you.

“Pull the trigger.”

As soon as his finger pulled it, you looked away, a strangled scream escaping you. You hit the ground and let out a loud wail. You had just been the cause of death to someone you once loved.

_-_-_-_-_

You bring yourself back to reality, “He was gonna kill me!” You can’t breathe. You’re gripping your chest and gasping. Tim’s hands are tight on the steering wheel. “I didn’t have a choice! He knew, and if I didn’t-”

“How many people know?” Tim seems concerned.

“Only Val! I thought… but she wouldn’t tell anyone. Especially John. He was always-” You cut yourself off and make some hand motions. “Kinda off. She knew that! But he still knew… Said I was gonna regret it if I killed him…”

“Sorry,” Tim cuts you off. “Gotta blindfold you now.” He pulls over on the side of the road, seemingly feeling some type of why about your outburst of sadness. You can’t pick up on it. You nod and he grabs the blindfold, asking you to turn for him. You oblige. You seem to always oblige. “Why were you in the woods? When Toby found you?”

“Oh,” You huff, “just blindfold me and act like nothing is weird about that…” You decide to continue anyway. “John took me out there. Said something about, I don’t know, showing me something? He was too strong to even fight against anyway. And I kinda knew I could get away if needed… Didn’t expect that though.”

There is silence. Tim doesn’t seem to have any more questions. You breathe in steadily, trying to ignore the fact you are blindfolded in a car with a man you still really do not know. Realizations are hitting left and right, and there is nothing you can do. Not at the moment.

The car begins to slow down and comes to a halt. You sit there. Tim unbuckles, you hear it. You wait for instruction on what to do next. Tim picks up on that.

“Hold on,” he says, opening his door, “I’ll help you out. I’m gonna grab your bag.” His door closes and the door behind you opens. You hear rustling and the door shuts. Your door opens and a hand grabs your bicep, and you are pulled from the car. You duck down, and a hand touches your head, keeping you from bonking it on the car.

Tim steadies you and begins to walk forwards, leading you towards what you hope is the cabin. You really hope he brought you back to the cabin. When you hear leaves crunching ahead of you, you only grow more tense.

“Wh-what are you wearing!?” Toby is ahead of you, seeming to be dying of laughter.

You gasp. “Toby! I’m wearing my crocs!”

“And your bl-bloody clothes!” He laughs harder.

You just cannot win. You move to take your blindfold off and freeze. Your fingers are holding the tied part, and your breathing is slow.

“You can take it off.” Brian speaks up. You listen. You take it off fast and you’re ready to run for Toby, again. “I wouldn’t.” Brian warns, “You remember what happened this morning.”

He has a point. You hate it, but he has a point… You look over at Tim. “Thanks for carrying that. I’m gonna head inside and shower.” You grab the bag and smile as you thank him. “You have hot water?” You look at Toby. When he shrugs, you let out a guttural groan.

“J-just fucking with y-you. I do, b-but the hot wa-water heater isn’t th-that great.”

You want to swing on him. You do not. You nod and trudge inside. You know Tim is going to tell them everything that happened. You do not care. You just want to shower. You get into the bathroom and place your bag down. You pull out your new clothes and place them on the sink and look at the shower.

You do not know how this one works…

You let out a little cry and walk back out of the bathroom and onto the front porch. “Hey!” You shout at the three of them. “I need help!”

“Showering?” They all say in unison.

“No!” You stomp your foot, “I need help starting it…” You feel stupid.

“Oh,” Toby walks up to the porch and right past you, towards the bathroom. He easily starts it and leaves. He says nothing else. You want to die. You close and lock the door.

“This is going to suck…” You begin to unwrap your feet. You don’t even know what sucks more. Your situation or the way your feet are going to burn in that water.

When you get in, you decide in the moment, it’s definitely your feet.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eleven

authors note: hi! i'm super sorry for the cliffhanger! i just have this thing where i need sections to be cohesive, and this chapter is much heavier than the previous, so i didn't wanna boggle ya'll down with all that angst!

i've also been thinking about the length of this story. currently, in terms of story timeline, we're at the very end of december 23', and i have ideas for up to may 24'. well, beyond that, but i don't want things to get stale, so i can end it around that time or keep it going? just curious because i don't want it to play out so long that it bores anyone. if that makes sense. just lmk.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angsttttt (parental neglect, abandonment, trauma) language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, some fluff

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 6.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You knew as soon as he walked in that something was up.

In getting to know Joe, you’d also learned that he was, surprisingly, on the quiet side. He spoke with you, of course, but you learned he leaned more towards introverted than extroverted. It was kind of sweet and pretty surprising. But, you’d also learned there was a difference between him being his sometimes quiet self and when something was off, and something was definitely off.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to fuck it out of you?” He rolls his eyes, not even showing any excitement at the idea of fucking you. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. “Seriously, what’s up?”

He shrugs, playing it off clearly. “Just tired. Back to back matches.” 

That's when you realize what it is. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, dismissively, and you cross your arms. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take it off, or I’ll climb your big ass and take it off myself.” Joe blows out a breath. He has to know you’re dead serious. So, wordlessly, he lifts his shirt over his head and turns around. 

You gasp almost immediately. “What the actual fuck?” Your hand reaches to touch him, but you stop yourself, knowing that his skin must be sensitive to the touch. His back is inflamed, red welts spread in different areas with a nasty bruise that looks like a borderline hematoma and other various cuts. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Shaking your head, you point to your room. “Go sit and wait for me on the bed.” He opens his mouth, and you lift a finger. “I don’t want to hear it. Get in there now.”

Surprisingly, he follows suit, and you start to move about, gathering the necessary supplies. Along the way, you experience a plethora of emotions but mostly bounce back and forth between irritation and concern. 

You’re irritated that he didn’t just come out and say that he was hurt. You’re also concerned because he’s obviously in pain, and that bothers you. He doesn’t have to be, he didn’t have to be if he just said something. 

Stubborn asshole. 

With everything needed and placed in a cloth bag, you walk into your room and stretch your hand out to him. “Take this.”

Joe looks down at your open palm with a single pink pill. “What the hell is it?”

“Coke,” you answer with a straight face. Rolling your eyes, you answer, “Benadryl. It’ll help with the inflammation of the welts.”

“It’ll also knock me out.”

“We’ll we’re obviously not fucking with your back all messed up, so what else are you going to do?”

“Who said we can’t fuck?”

You sigh. “Joe, if you don’t just take this goddamn pill. With your size, you probably should take two, but I’m trying to be nice by only giving you one, so accept my kindness and swallow this damn pill or I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

He sucks his teeth but also takes the pill from you followed by the water bottle tucked under your arm. “You’re a terrible nurse.”

“And you’re an awful patient. At least we’re both on the same page.” You wait for him to swallow it before taking the bottle from him. “Good, now lay on your stomach.”

He lifts his brow, asking, “why?”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as my students.” Men when they’re sick or not feeling well are a special kind of torture you’re not sure why exactly you’re subjecting yourself to right now. “Just do it, please. I’m trying to help you here.”

He just looks at you, as if he has something else to say, probably so. But, he surprises you by staying silent and following your instructions. 

Pleased, you climb on top of him, sitting on his ass to avoid irritating his already sensitive skin. “Okay, now this may hurt a little bit at first—”

He makes a sound underneath you. “Can’t hurt anymore than it already does.”

“If you had said something sooner, I could have helped you before now,” you scold, dropping the bag on the bed beside ya’ll. Men and their tendency to downplay pain will never cease to amaze you. The minute you start getting hit with cramps, you pop an ibuprofen.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“You’re in pain. That’s always a big deal.” Pulling out the ointment, you dab enough to your hand and start carefully massaging it into the welts. He hisses at your touch and you murmur an apology but don’t stop. It’s short term discomfort for long term benefits. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Calamine lotion,” you answer, adding on. “I have hydrocortisone too, but my grandma always said calamine works just as well without getting into your bloodstream. Don’t know how true it is, but it always worked for me, so it’ll work for you.”

He chuckles. “She sounded fun.”

Instantly, a smile is on your face as you continue to treat him. “Always. Summers with her were always the highlight of my year.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, and you continue to work the lotion into his skin. Once pleased with the application, you move on to the next part. “Alright, I’m gonna apply some cold compresses. You’ll probably be out in another 20 minutes, so just leave em’ on, and I’ll come change em’ out while you’re sleeping.”

When he doesn’t push back, you pull the compresses out of your bag and strategically place them on different areas of his back to maximize the comfort. Once finished, you climb off of him and go to close up the blinds and curtains. “Alright, get some rest.” 

You’re at the doorway when he says your name. “Yeah?”

A slight delay before he says, genuinely, “thank you.” 

There’s something meaningful beyond just the obvious, and it brings a small smile to your face. Not that he can see that. So you settle on, “of course. You’re no good to me if you can’t fuck me.”

He laughs, loudly. “Shut up.”

Smile widening, you close the door.  ________

Joe finds you a couple hours later in the kitchen, but it’s the state of you that gives him a pause and brings a smile to his face.

You’re dancing around, clad in one of his shirts and short shorts that your ass swallows up. Brief glimpses of your side profile reveal that you’re singing too, just in a low enough voice, probably not to disturb you. 

He doesn’t know the specific song, but the voice is familiar enough for him to know it’s Taylor Swift. That definitely surprises him, though it shouldn’t. You have a weird ass taste in music to where he’s found you in the shower listening to some random rock song, other times, it was throwback R&B.

You were just so….different from anyone he’s ever known. 

It’s one of the many reasons he’s so enamored with you.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

It’s when you turn around, mid bite on a cookie that you finally notice his presence, smiling. “Hey. You’re up.”

“I am.” He nods, walking over to you. He gestures around the kitchen. “What is all this?” 

You finish chewing and swallow before directing Alexa to pause the music. “Well, I finished my lesson planning and was bored, so I decided to bake. But then I got hungry for actual food, so I ordered takeout.”

“And the music?”

You shrug, taking another bite of your cookie. “I like the song. Don’t worry, it’s the only Taylor Swift song allowed in this African American household.”

He laughs and moves past you when you take the chance to assess his back, immediately noticing how the swelling and redness have decreased. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, moving to the cartons, seeing that you made sure to order his favorites as well. “Thanks again.”

Smirking, you climb on the island, locking your ankles together. “Not so terrible nurse after all then, huh?”

“Your bedside manners still suck.” 

“Shut up.” You watch him fix his food and when he gets ready to sit down on a bar stool, you hop off the counter, prompting, “come with me.”

“Where?”

“All these damn questions….” Grabbing a couple of cookies and placing them in a bowl, you find your sandals and slide them on your feet. “Just come on.”

“Let me at least put a shirt on.”

“Absolutely not. You need to let your skin breathe,” you lecture, taking him in, all of him. “Trust me, no one’s gonna see us, and even if they did, who the hell would complain about you being shirtless?”

Snatching the keys off the table, you open the door, allowing him to walk out first. You start to leave your door unlocked but decide against it. It’s an extremely safe town, but there’s always a first time for everything. 

Locking it, you motion for him to follow you up the two sets of steps until reaching the heavy door that you turn the knob left and then right in order to open it. Joe’s immediately hit with a nice breeze and diminishing sunlight as the evening sets in.

“Come on,” you usher him to follow you to your favorite spot, sitting down and patting down on the ground next to you.

Joe chuckles, following suit. “Seriously?”

You ignore him, pushing on his shoulder as he brings his plate in front of him to eat. “I like to come out here sometimes to just get away. Especially if I need to clear my head. My grandma used to always say the closer you are to Heaven, the clearer you can hear God’s voice.”

He just watches you, the way the wind blows at your curls, making them splash at your face. Everything about you has always been stunning to him, but in this moment where you sit so relaxed and unbothered, he’s never thought you looked more beautiful. 

“Plus, you obviously need to clear your head to bounce back from that ass whooping,” you snort, taking another bite of your cookie. One look at Joe’s scowl makes you giggle. “On one hand, it’s crazy to me you put your body through so much, but I also recognize your passion and dedication. So, I get it. I was an athlete too. Love of the game type shit.”

You can’t say that you would have ever continued to cheer if it left you the way Joe would come to you sometimes, but as someone who’s been in a similar situation, you understand it. And it’s so much more than just a job to him. It’s a legacy, in his bloodline. All he knows.

All he wants.

So, you support him.

You’ll always support him.

________

There’s the initial chaos that ensues in the minutes after your departure. Callie’s confusion. Joe’s confusion. Bianca’s utter confusion. And as Callie is right there, Joe can’t go immediately after you. He can’t and won’t leave her, so he does the best he can, offering apologies to Bianca and Co. before taking Callie and finding your mom who was catching up with an old friend in another part of the show.

He has some level of difficulty explaining what happened, other than the fact that you’d run off and he needed to find you. It’s really all of the information that he has to go off of, and when he’s finally able to get back to the apartment where he thinks you probably went. He's disappointed to find it empty. There’s brief moment of panic. 

Just where the hell would you go?

He pulls out his phone to check again if you’ll pick up, but it goes straight to voicemail. He then starts to call your mom to ask her if she had any idea where you would be when he thinks about what happened. You were upset, very much so. 

You needed to clear your head.

He knows exactly where you are.

On that same roof he sat on with you years prior is where Joe finds you, but what he doesn’t expect is the bottle of Hennessy that’s not only open but already halfway empty and sitting beside you. 

He doesn’t try to hide his presence and is unsurprised when you ask, “How’d you find me?” 

“Wasn’t that hard,” he answers. It wasn’t. He remembers almost everything you’ve ever told him about yourself, including how this spot has always been your place to escape.

Just what were you escaping from is what has him stumped.

“Sit down.” You pat the space beside you much harder than what’s necessary. He sighs and asks for a minute, pulling out the phone and stepping away to make a call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah,” Joe runs his hand over his face. “I got her, but….can you take Callie back to your place?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

He looks over again at the bottle. “She’s drunk.”

“Drunk?” It sounds like she’s holding back a chuckle, like his words are humorous because everyone knows you don’t drink, and she says as such. “What do you mean she’s drunk? My child doesn’t even drink.”

“She did tonight” Joe’s eyes fall back over to you to see you still sitting, swaying slightly as if listening to music. There is no music. “And Callie doesn’t need to see her like this.” He especially knows you wouldn’t want her to see you like this. 

Your mom sighs, heavily, on the other end. “You’ll stay with her, right?”

“Of course.” That’s not even a question. “And once I get her settled, if Callie is still up—”

“Oh, she’ll be up. She can’t fall asleep unless she talks to you or her mama.” It feels like an inappropriate response, but there’s a small part of Joe that finds joy in this. He remembers when you mentioned to him before that Callie needed to see and/or speak to you before she could fall asleep, a sign of how closely bonded you two were. To be added to that category means everything to him. “Thank you, Joseph.”

He sees no need in being thanked but acknowledges your mom’s appreciation anyway. “Of course.” The call ends, and he brings his focus back to you. The first thing he does is take away the bottle of Henny.

You see this and instantly scowl. “You’re no fun.” 

He sits next to you, asking in a quiet voice, “what happened tonight, Y/N?” Joe is still utterly confused at all of this, your zero to one hundred change in demeanor. But, the fact that you resulted to drinking shows him just how heavy whatever it was has impacted you. “Talk to me.” 

You laugh, but there isn’t an ounce of humor. “God, where do I start?” Your eyes light up, as if realizing something. “Oooh. I know where.” You lean into his shoulder, whispering, “I’m the product of an affair.”

This piece of information definitely takes him by surprise.

He's noticed you've never talked about your father, and he's never asked. Obviously, it was a sensitive topic, that much he could garner. But now, he knows just why it was sensitive.

“I don't—I don't know exactly what happened between them. She’s never really talked about it, but I do remember when I was younger, maybe—maybe a couple years older than Callie, he was—he was at the house.” You swallow, and Joe can see the distance in your eyes, like you’re no longer sitting here beside him. But someplace else. “She told me to go to my room, but I snooped at the top of the steps. Don’t….don’t really remember everything that was said except that she was literally begging this man to have some type of relationship with me, and he refused.” You laugh suddenly, and it’s so out of place, doesn't make sense given the nature of the conversation. But it does if he factors in the liquor coursing through your system. “He called me a m–mistake.”

Joe's heart aches at your words. “Baby—”

“When I was sixteen years old, I worked at a clothing store in town, and I saved up my money for this necklace…it was gold, and I thought—I thought it was so pretty. It made me feel fancy.” You chuckle, not as humorous this time, head tilting. “And once I finally got the necklace, I drove—I drove an hour away because…because after all those years, I still….I wanted to meet my father. I wanted…I wanted him to be in my life.” 

“He’s uh—or was, I’m not sure anymore—captain of police in his town, so I went to the precinct to meet him, wearing that necklace that I worked months to save up for because…because I wanted to look nice. I remember walking into his office, and I was nervous, but—but I also figured there was no way he could reject me then. I—I was head cheerleader. A straight A student. I—I had just gotten a near perfect score on both my SAT and ACT. I was…I was a good kid, Joe.”

Your jaw fixes, and he can see you’re trying to hold back tears. It kills him to see you this upset. He’s never seen you this vulnerable. “And I—I told him all that. I told him I wanted to see if he wanted a relationship with me, and do you know what he told me?” You suddenly stand up, clearly intending to mimic this interaction. “A relationship? Why would I want a relationship with you? You’re not even supposed to exist.” 

You giggle, eyes watering. Joe frowns. He can’t even begin to fathom how someone can say something like that to their own flesh and blood.

“Oh, but that’s not even the best part.” You’re doing one hell of a job playing this all off as something that isn’t impacting you, no doubt thanks to the alcohol. But, he knows you well enough to know and even see where this is headed. “He—” you hiccup, covering your mouth to hide your giggles. “He said again that I was a mistake that he paid my mom to take care of and—” It’s starting to crack, the alcohol induced facade that all of this is fine, that you don’t care. Your voice starts to catch. “---that the money he gave her for an abortion was the biggest waste of money he ever spent.”

“Y/N—”

“Minutes later, his wife walked in and then—and then his daughter walked in, and I—I ran. I couldn’t….I couldn’t—we looked the same age, Joe. He had a daughter already, he–he didn’t need me. He didn't—he didn’t want me.” You sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “And that’s fine, I—I didn’t care. I—I blocked that out after that day. I’d—I’d forgotten about him.” A beat. “Until tonight.”

“Because—because for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I was in front of all of them again. My—my—father, his wife, my—-”

Joe starts putting the pieces together. “Bianca….”

“She’s my sister,” you answer for him, having a hard time keeping it all in at this point. “She’s the one he’s proud of. She’s the one whose kid he claims as his grandchild. She’s the one he acknowledges. I’m just—I’m just the mistake he wishes was never born.” 

Joe stands up, gradually moving toward you. 

“I did everything right. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. I got my degree. I did—-” He’s in front of you, gently pulling you into him as you finally break. “I don’t understand why he didn’t want me. I’m his daughter.” you finally shatter, crying into his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, hey—” Joe brings his hands to your face, making you look at him. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, and I can’t even begin to describe how amazing of a mother you are.” He wipes away your tears as you clutch onto his shirt. “He doesn’t deserve you, baby. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He never did, and he never will. Fuck him. You don’t need shit from him. I’ve got you, okay? Always.” You allow him to hold you, to comfort you, because it’s just what you need in this moment. You tried to find it in solitude, tried to find it at the bottom of a liquor bottle, but it was all in vain. You just needed him.

Joe holds you as long as you allow him, letting you cry it out until he's eventually able to guide you into returning to your apartment.

But outside the door is when you hesitate.

He notices this, immediately asking, “what’s wrong?”

Your eyes start watering again. “Callie…I—I don’t want her to—”

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head. “I asked your mom to take her back to her place. I’ll go check on her after I get you straight.”

This seems to settle some of your anxiety, and he continues to guide you into your bedroom. He helps you out of your clothes and into a simple t-shirt that he recognizes as one of his own.

Joe moves all of your decorative pillows, placing them on the chair in the corner of your room as you pull back the blankets. He turns around to find you reaching for his hand, tugging him towards the bed. “Just—just until I fall asleep.”

He doesn’t object. Joe planned to stay with you until then anyway.

He undresses enough to climb into bed with you, and you waste no time burying yourself into his chest, feeling an instant sense of peace when he wraps his strong arms around you. You’ve always felt so safe and protected in his embrace, and in this moment, it’s everything you need. 

“I realized something tonight,” you mumble into his skin. Joe’s hand is under your shirt, hand moving soothing circles on the small of your back. “I—I didn’t keep Callie from you because of your wife. That was part of the reason, but it wasn’t the main reason.” You lift your head, throat feeling pressured as you allow yourself to finally admit, “the truth is that I was terrified you would reject her the way my dad rejected me, and I never wanted her to feel that way. And I know now that you would never do that to her, but I—I didn’t know then, and I was so wrong, and I’m so sorry. I—”

“Hey—” He cuts you off, hand going to palm your cheek. “Don’t do that. I understand why you did it now, I do. You were trying to protect her. I can’t be upset with you for that. I’m not.” He studies your face, your eyes, always so beautiful to him. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you for too long.”

It’s not a lie. Joe’s always thought he’s known you like the back of his hand, learned you so well, but tonight has shown him that he didn’t know everything. He’ll never get back the time he missed out on with Callie, and maybe on some level there will always be a slither of resentment. But, it’s not enough for him to notice and most definitely not enough for him to actually feel.

He’s not quite sure how he could find it in him to hold your decision against you. It didn’t come from a place of selfishness or vindictiveness but love and protectiveness. You just wanted to keep her from experiencing the pain and trauma you’d endured. 

There was no faulting that. 

And you accept his grace, so understanding and considerate. You feel slightly undeserving but immensely grateful that he can extend such empathy. 

You’re quiet after that, eyes shut as you work to turn off your brain and decompress what’s inarguably been one of the most difficult days of your life. You’re almost in the early stages of sleep when his voice invades the quietness. 

“I love you.” Joe doesn’t feel any sort of movement at his confession, doesn’t feel you tense or relax. He’s not even sure if you’re still awake, but still, he continues. “I’ve always loved you, and I don’t even know how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter because I’ve always imagined telling you under much different circumstances anyway.”

“I want to be with you,” he continues. “I’ve always wanted to be with you, and I’m sorry for not putting you first. You deserved better than that. I should have gotten divorced long before I even met you. And that’s….something we eventually need to talk about. I owe you that much.”

He wants to say more, so much more, but he also knows now is not the time given he’s almost certain you’re asleep. Hence why he finally slips out of bed, knowing he needs to check on Callie.

He doesn’t leave without caressing your cheek and kissing your temple, relieved that you’re finally getting some rest following what was inexplicably an emotionally draining day. 

But you’re not asleep, and you did hear it.

You heard it all.

________

“Who are you?”

Joe walked into your moms house, not expecting anyone other than your mom and Callie. Only one of those individuals are present, and the other is a man he’s never in his life seen before but automatically doesn’t like. Just his aura seems off. 

Joe especially hates that this man is in the same house as his little girl.

Your mom seems taken back by this side of him and explains, “Joe, this is Amir. He’s, uhh, an old friend of Y/N. He saw her run off and wanted to check in on her.”

The day's events are definitely a contributing factor as Joe feels exhausted, both mentally and physically, but hearing that this is the infamous Amir instantly angers him. What the hell is he doing here?

“You bold as hell coming here.” is all Joe says, redirecting his attention to your mom. “Y/N tell you that she found out he and Mariah been sleeping with each other?”

What he wants to say is that they’ve been fucking, but he wants to remain respectful. Even if it is hard as hell.

Your mom is looking, mouth ajar, between Joe and Amir. “Wh–what is he talking about, Amir?”

“So you’re the one that’s been feeding those lies into her.” Deflection. It’s a typical bitch move. “You talking a lot of shit for someone who abandoned his own kid and just came back on the scene like ain't nothing happened.”

If not for the fact that you’ve already explained to Joe that you’d never told Amir what really happened between you and him because it was none of his business, Joe would have been livid. He would never abandon you. And definitely never Callie. Ever.

He’d have been with you every fucking step of the way the minute you found out you were pregnant if he’d been given the chance.

But all of that is no business of this asshole’s. 

“You can say or think whatever the hell you want about me. It doesn’t matter. You’re irrelevant, regardless, so the same way you walked your ass in here is the same way you can walk your ass right on out.”

“Apparently not to Y/N.” He’s smug, and it takes a tremendous amount of willpower for Joe to not lay this man out right then and there. He doesn’t know why you would ever settle for the likes of this prick. “Not with how many times she ended up in my bed.” 

Joe partially forgot your mom was even in the same vicinity until she gasps loudly, clearly disgusted, “my Lord. Please, this is my daughter you’re speaking about.”

With a low chuckle, Joe tries his best to remain respectful yet still abundantly clear. “And how many times has she reached out to you since I’ve been back?” His silence is all the answer Joe needs, not that he really needs one at all. Joe knows you have eyes and desire for him and him alone. He just needs to prove a point to this motherfucker. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you to stay the fuck away from my girlfriend and especially my daughter, cause the next time it won’t be no conversation.”

And before Amir can say or even, stupidly, do anything, a new smaller voice enters the scene.

“Daddy!”

Joe is unsure if he’ll ever get over the joy that fills him at being called that. Callie is at the top of the steps but proceeds to rush down when she sees him, Joe leaning down and catching her, picking her up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek, noticing almost immediately how tired she looks. Understandable, as it’s almost 11 o’ clock, far past her bedtime. Uncomfortable with this Amari or whatever the fuck his name is being so close to Callie, Joe starts leading her back up the stairs.

With a frown, she asks the question he was expecting. “Where’s mommy?” 

“She’s back at the apartment sleeping.” Joe is unsure just how to explain tonight’s events to Callie, not really knowing how to help her understand what occurred, if at all possible. “I’ll take you to see her tomorrow morning as soon as she wakes up.”

Joe walks her into her room at your mom’s place and seats her on the bed, sitting next to her. “What’s wrong with her?”

Such a simple question in wording and massively difficult in every other area, especially when one considers Callie’s young age. 

“Mommy saw someone who was very mean to her when she was little, and it made her sad, so….she just wanted to be alone.” It’s the best, simplest answer that’s not a lie he can come up with on the spot.

Callie’s frown deepens. “I don’t want mommy to be sad.”

“Neither do I, baby,” he murmurs. “But, I talked with her, and she should start feeling better soon, okay?”

Her frown diminishes slightly, and Joe can tell she’s in thought. She then asks, “are you gonna go stay with mommy tonight?”

“I was, but I can stay with you, if you want me to.” Joe knows you’ll probably sleep throughout the night because of the alcohol and more importantly, if Callie needs him, he’s there. No questions asked.

You would do the same. 

She suddenly shakes her head. “Mommy stays with me when I’m sad, so someone’s gotta stay with her while she’s sad.” Her face grows sullen again as she asks with a yawn, “do you still have to leave tomorrow morning?”

“No, I leave tomorrow night instead.”

In the midst of all of tonight’s chaos, he’d managed to switch flights, picking an evening one instead. Joe let Hunter know there was a family emergency, and that he’d be back later than initially expected. Hunter was understanding, and while he was grateful for that, it didn’t really make a difference.

You and Callie come first. 

She’s obviously partially pleased with this information and moves her body against his, laying her head on his arm. “I’m sleepy….”

Reaching to caress her cheek with his finger, he directs, “get some rest, Callie. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

She doesn’t say anything, just closes her eyes. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake her, a mere matter of minutes really. He stays with her longer though, just to be sure, needing to know she’s okay.

He needs both of yall to be okay.

________

You wake up with an instant sense of unease and discomfort. Your head is throbbing, and your body feels heavy. Your chest feels pressured, like there’s some invisible weight on it.

But in a matter of seconds, it all comes rushing back to you. The fireworks. Bianca. Seeing your dad. Running. Drinking. 

"I love you."

Eyes shutting, you do your best to settle your brain because only one thing is at the front of your mind when you hear giggling coming from outside of your closed door.

Callie 

Just how in the hell did your brief mental breakdown affect your child? 

Pushing the blankets off, it’s then you notice the bottle of water and white pill sitting on your nightstand. Picking it up, you see it’s Advil.

“Joe…..” you whisper, realizing he must have left it here waiting for you once you woke up. Eyes watering at his thoughtfulness, you swallow it and head straight for the bathroom. You need to get cleaned up and get out there to see what kind of damage you’ve unintentionally inflicted on your child’s psyche.

You know how attached she is to you and don’t even allow yourself to think about how difficult it must have been to be so abruptly ripped away.

Especially when you’re the one who did the ripping.

The shower is kept to a minimum, and once your teeth are brushed and face clean, you don’t hesitate to step out of the room. Following the path of sound, in the kitchen is where you find Callie. With Joe. 

They’re sharing a quiet laugh, and you’re certain it’s quiet because he told her you needed your rest. Always looking out for you. 

However, it’s when Callie happens to glance your way that her eyes go big. 

“Mommy!”

She surprisingly climbs off the counter instead of outright jumping and runs over to you. You kneel down to meet her for her hug, so tight and welcoming. “Do you feel better?” 

“Oh baby, I’m always better when I get to see you.” Kissing her forehead, you add, gently, “mommy’s sorry for scaring you.” And it's true. You never meant to scare her or make her worry about you, and it's something you'll work as hard as necessary to make up to her.

But your sweet child surprises you with her authentic, mature reassurances. “It’s okay. Daddy said you were sad,” she explains and gasps. “I made you something to make you smile!”

Touched, you palm her cheek. She really is the light of your life. “I’d love to see it, baby.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back.” She rushes out of the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to talk to Joe. Wordlessly, you move over to hug him.

“Thank you.” There’s not enough thank yous to show him just how appreciative you are to have him in your life, to have him as Callie’s father. He took such control yesterday while you were busy drowning in your daddy issues. And now he’s still here when you’re almost certain that he was supposed to have flown out at the crack of dawn. “I’m really sorry about last night. That’s not—-I don’t get drunk. I would never leave Callie like that—“

“I don’t care about any of that,” he dismisses. You believe him, as he looks entirely uninterested in any explanation you want to provide him because he sees it as unnecessary. He takes the back of hand to feel your forehead. “How are you feeling? Did you take the Advil?”

Nodding, you try again, “seriously, Joe. You’ve changed your whole schedule around—“

“You needed me,” he answers. “There was nothing to think about.”

And the tears are brewing again, but for very different reasons. This man is everything you’ve always wanted and dreamed of, even better. And he loves you. He wants to be with you. Your daughter's father wants to establish a life with you, be a family. What logical reason do you have to continue to deny him? Deny yourself?

“Joe…..” Licking your lips, you place your hands on his chest. “I lo—”

“Here it is, mommy!”

Callie’s interruption is both perfect and imperfect timing. You want so badly to tell him that you love him too, that you also want to be with him. But maybe it’s not the best timing, maybe the setting should be different.

You want him to know you love him not just because of the aftershocks of vulnerability. That you’re in love with him and have been since you were 23 years old. 

Callie is at your legs, holding up a drawing she created of you surrounded by hearts. Her artwork has always been her favorite form of expression, and you’re so grateful for her pure, kind heart in this moment.

Holding it against your chest, you lean down to accept her hug. “Thank you so much, baby. I love it.” 

“Yay!” She rejoices and then looks up between the two of you. “Daddy and I made you breakfast!”  

Gasping, you ask, “really?” It’s only then you notice the kitchen, while cleaner than one would expect after preparing breakfast with a four-year-old, you see the counters that have food laid out on a variety of plates and tupperware. “Waffles?”

“Your favorite.” Joe reaches to kiss your temple, and lightly pats your hip. “Sit down, we’ll fix it for you.”

You open your mouth to protest when Callie takes your hand and guides you to the barstools and scampers back over to Joe who picks her up, holding her with one arm while the other fixes your breakfast for you. He allows her to point and dictate what goes on your plate and how it’s fixed.

And you sit there, allowing yourself to take in this moment. There’s so much you need to navigate and sort through. Bianca, your dad, Mariah, hell, even finally being honest with Joe about your feelings. But, all of that can wait. 

Because all that matters right now are the two people you love most in this world.