#.... because a few months after she was born their mother got sick

[leslieseveride]

where’s my bradford siblings episode?????

[bloodibambiidoll]

† Pray To Me †

♱ Kinktober Day 1 ⟢ Rafe Cameron ⟢ Priest/Corruption ♱

Warnings: Sacrilegion all over the place, nun!reader, improper use of a crucifix and rosary, face fucking, spanking, cum licking, unprotected sex, choking, a lil bit of blood, biting, spit kink, corruption 18+MNDI

Rafe was damn near possessed by you. Ever since you arrived at the covent you were all he could think about and watching you take your vows only made him want you more. You weren’t like the other nuns who surrounded him. They were either all doe eyed virgins who followed his word as if he were god himself or elderly women who haven’t been touched in so long they got flustered every time he licked his lips or smirked at them. All of them wanted to fuck him and several of them have. Rafe knows he’s a shit priest, probably even a shit person. If the sick satisfaction he feels from making a woman who vowed herself to god and only god kneel before him with his cock down her throat is anything to go by. Every single woman, and even some men in this church throw themselves at Rafe’s feet, all except you.

No matter how hard he tries to get you to warm up to him or even just smile and talk to him in any semblance of a friendly tone his efforts are fruitless. You were always glaring at him when he spoke with this look in your eyes like you couldn’t wait for him to shut the fuck up. You weren’t ever straight up rude because that would be inappropriate but your voice was always monotone and you never gave him more than one or two word responses. And Rafe knows for a fact that’s not just how you are because he’s seen you laughing with the other nuns and you give the other priests friendly smiles. It was only him you treated this way and it was about damn time he found out why.

You never took confessional with Rafe because you specifically requested that he never be the one on the other side of that wall but he knows for a fact you always go on Monday nights. Almost like you’re starting the week with washing yourself of your sins.

He has no idea what those sins are though. You showed up a few months ago and didn’t say much about your past, just that your mother’s dying wish was that you follow in her footsteps and take your vows. He has no idea who you were before that. He doesn’t even know what your hair looks like aside from the tiniest strand that slipped out of your coif once. If he hadn’t honed it on it seconds before you tucked it away he still wouldn’t even know what color it was. So he decides to take matters into his own hands and give Father Daniels the evening off. Maybe you’ll even say something about why you hate him so much. Either way he can’t wait to learn literally anything about you, anything he could use in his favor.

You feel like you are going insane. You have this itch that you feel like you’ll never scratch. And that itches name is Father Rafe Cameron. You came here after your mother’s death fully prepared to give up all your worldly possessions, swear off men, and follow whatever path god had laid out for you. You weren’t a virgin by any means. The life you lived before this was filled with sex, drugs and chaos. But as your poor mother who always tried her best despite the fact that you never saw eye to eye lay dying she begged you to take your vows. Just like she did after you were born, after all your so-called father put her through. You rejected this notion your entire life. You dyed your hair and got tattoos in your friends living rooms. Screamed at your mom every Sunday when she tried to get you to go to church with her. You left as soon as you were eighteen and hardly ever visited. But something about the way she seemed so at peace, so happy to go and be with her god, and the love in her eyes as the light left them had you changing your mind. You don’t agree with a lot of the bullshit the church spews but you’re still trying your best to follow your vows without also losing your morals and sense of self entirely but this man is making it damn near impossible.

Rafe is for lack of better words, infuriatingly gorgeous. His dirty blonde hair is always slicked back to perfection, showing off his striking blue eyes and beautifully refined bone structure. His large frame filled out the black slacks and button up shirt he wore deliciously, his Roman collar hugging his throat. The way his big hands gripped the Bible while he read scripture and each time he licked the tips of his fingers before turning the page you had to clench your thighs. The way that he walked around like he was god himself, flirting with everyone in sight while looking down at them as if he could read their impure thoughts about him. It all was just leading you further and further down the path of sin.

Rafe had every single person in the covent wrapped around his finger. But it wasn’t out of respect, no. They either feared him or wanted him. You’ve heard through the grapevine that several of your sisters have indulged in the sins of the flesh due to him and you can’t say you blame them. But you don’t want to just indulge in him, you want to drown in him utterly and completely. Devote your blood and your life to him. And you know he wants you too. He’s basically told you that he would burn this entire church down for you. Fulfilling your mom’s dying wish becomes harder everyday. So each Monday you confess your blasphemous thoughts to Father Daniels. You’re sure he’s either judging you, turned on or both but he never says more than a few words aside from a grunt of acknowledgement here and there. That’s about as unbiased as you’re going to get. You sigh to yourself as you adjust your veil on your head and open the confessional door.

Rafe was practically vibrating with lust as he sat opposite of you in the confessional booth. He caught the slightest glimpse of you as you entered but he pressed his back against the wall and hid his face in the shadows to ensure you didn’t see him. Not yet at least. He intends to make himself known when the time is right.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confessional.” Your sweet voice fills the wooden box confining the two of you and vibrates through Rafe’s soul. Lucky for him he’s been in this booth with Father Daniels enough to know the man hardly speaks so he just gives you a grunt of acknowledgement, encouraging you to go on. “Everyday I swear it gets harder to not commit the sins of the flesh. No matter what I do to push down these impure thoughts, or run away from them, they continue to eat my insides.”

Rafe feels his cock stir in his pants at your words. Are you talking about him? Do you have an ex from before you came here? If that was the case, that wouldn’t do. He hums low in his throat and you take that as a sign to go on.

“It’s like he’s everywhere I look, father.” You sigh deeply and Rafe can hear the slight thud of your head hitting the wood behind you. “I’m as rude as I can be to him without being inappropriate but nothing deters his affections it seems.” You stir slightly, as if waiting for a response but when Rafe stays silent you take a shaky breath. “My fantasies about Father Cameron used to only haunt me at night, with my hand between my legs. But now it’s as if every waking moment of my life I am consumed by my cravings for him.”

Rafe exhales deeply through his nose as his cock hardens in his slacks. He feels saliva pool in his mouth and it takes everything in him not to reveal himself right this moment. But not yet, he needs to know more.

“I want him so badly, father.” Rafe hears the beads on your rosary click against those pretty little rings you wear and all he can think about is pulling it taunt around your throat. “I think about him fucking me more than anything else. More than any of my vows. More than god. I find myself wanting to kneel at his feet instead. And each day this promise I made my mother starts to feel more and more meaningless if I can’t feel his thick cock inside me.” You wait a few beats to see if he will respond but when you’re met with silence you fill it with more of your filthy fantasies. “I fantasize about him bending me over the pews during service and how his big hands would feel gliding across my body, those long fingers deep in my pussy. I want him to fuck me like a slut and make me pray to him like he’s my god while I beg him to cum.”

Arousal builds in your stomach and you rock back and forth with your legs crossed subconsciously seeking friction. The tiny red thong underneath your tunic cupping your cunt like a dirty little secret. Rafe can’t take it anymore, his thoughts turned primal the minute you said his name and the longer you go on the tighter his pants get until he feels like the zipper is going to burst from how hard he is.

“You’re right, those are some very impure thoughts…” Rafe’s voice is low and filled with lust and it makes you gasp. Your hand clutches the rosary around your neck tightly to your chest and your foot darts out and smacks against the door in front of you.

“Father - Father Cameron?” The sudden sound of his voice has your heart rate spiking and your clit practically thumping between your legs. The mixture of arousal and fear shouldn’t feel so delicious washing over your body, but it does. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, doll, it’s me.” Rafe licks his lips, feeling like a mountain lion that cornered a fawn. “If you want me to fuck you like a dirty little whore, all you have to do is ask.”

“I think you know why I couldn’t do that…” Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe. This can’t be happening.

“Mmm, why? Because god doesn’t want you to get your pussy stretched so far you feel like you're going to split in half?” Rafe chuckles darkly as he leans against the screen separating the two of you, just barely making out your outline. “To be honest, it doesn’t seem like you really care about that.” You start to protest but Rafe shushes you. “It’s too late to make excuses, sweetheart. You told me all I needed to know. Get out of this booth and kneel on the ground in front of it. Now.”

In your mind you know you need to protest, walk out of this room and go to bed like none of this ever happened. But your pussy has a mind of her own. So you push the door open softly and step out before settling on your knees in front of the door Rafe is behind. After what feels like eons but was probably only a few seconds the wooden door swings open, revealing Rafe’s large frame. He has to duck down to go through the small opening before stepping toward you with a wicked look in his eyes and a cheshire smirk painted on his perfect lips. He towers over you, glowering down at you for a moment, taking you in. You were so fucking perfect for him. Those big wide eyes that at first glance seemed innocent but he now knows the dirty thoughts that hide behind them. Your lips are red and plush, like you’ve been biting them the entire time you’ve been here. And the way your hands are clasped in your lap is just the icing on the goddamn cake.

“Fuckin’ look at you.” Rafe’s large hand cups the side of your face and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing the bit of spit that gathered there. His other hand abruptly grips onto your veil, pulling it and your coif from your head in one swoop. Your hair falls free and Rafe can finally see you for the first time. The hand on your face turns rough as he grips tightly onto your jaw, his other hand gathering your hair so he can yank your head back to look at him. “So goddamn gorgeous. Show me the rest of you. Take that shit off.”

It isn’t a question, it’s a command. And it makes your pussy clench around nothing. You expect him to release his grip on your face but he doesn’t so you push your robes down your arms to the best of your ability. Not only did you have on the pretty little red thong but you had on the lace bra that matched. Rafe’s eyes nearly exploded out of his head at the sight and he never felt like he was going to cum in his pants until he caught sight of the upside down cross tattoo nestled between your tits peeking out through the red lace. You struggle to shimmy your robes the rest of the way down your hips so Rafe decides to help you out by yanking you up by your hair enough for your hips to raise off the ground. The sting of your scalp makes you whimper as you remove the rest of your clothes. You're kneeled in front of a Rafe in the middle of the church in nothing but red lace, white thigh highs, little Mary Jane’s and your rosary. It should feel crude and unclean, you should feel shame, but you feel nothing but carnal desire.

“I fuckin’ knew you were a little whore.” Rafe growls and yanks on the beads around your neck, pulling them tight until they’re slightly cutting off your airflow. “Open your mouth.” You stick your tongue out for good measure and he leans down and spits on it before shoving two of his fingers down your throat, causing you to gag. He curls his fingers in the back of your throat before fucking your mouth with his long digits.

Rafe revels in the way saliva gathers in your mouth and drips down his fingers and wrist as he makes you gag for him. That tiny amount of mascara that you think you’re getting away with that he never misses starts to stream down your cheeks as a few tears escape your eyes. And your hair is more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a gasp and his large palm cups your face, rubbing your spit across your lips and chin. Rafe never lets go of your hair as he undoes his belt and pulls his cock out. “Now be a good little nun and suck my fuckin’ cock.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you push yourself up further onto your knees so you can grab onto his shaft. It's thick and heavy in your hand with so much precum dripping from the tip that some drips onto the red carpet. “Well, don’t fuckin’ waste it.” Rafe yanks your head down so far your face is inches from the ground, hovering directly over the drops of his cum. “Clean it up.”

You hesitate for a moment because what he’s asking you to do is so fucking disgusting but when you glance up at him, towering over you like he really is a god, you can’t help but let your tongue dart out and lick the floor. His cum is wet and salty but you hardly get a taste before the feeling of the rough carpet replaces it.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ disgusting. Now choke on my dick.” Rafe pulls you back up to his cock and you run your tongue around every inch of his shaft before taking it in your mouth, all the way down your throat.You swallow around him causing your throat to squeeze his dick and then pull off all the way and spit on his head, watching the drool drip down his shaft and onto his balls.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a sick, little, cock slut.” Rafe growls and grips onto both of your cheeks so he can shove his cock back down your throat. He gives you no time to process before he’s brutally fucking your mouth. You gag and drool without breaking eye contact with him and Rafe swears to god he might end up being the one praying to you at night. He pulls you off his cock and onto your feet by your throat and then he’s kissing you filthy. He practically devours you with his tongue as his hands travel down your body. He pulls on the hook of your bra before yanking the lace from your tits, giving him a full view of your tits but also that little upside down cross tattoo inked between them.

“Jesus Christ, I knew they’d be perfect.” Rafe looks at your tits like they’re the most delicious delicacy he’s ever seen before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. He licks and sucks until you’re dripping with his spit and then he bites down on your cleavage so hard he breaks the skin. His fingers lace through your rosary and he uses it to pull your face forward, almost like a leash. “Go bend over that pew, I’m going to make your nasty little fantasies come true.”

“Fuck, Father, are you sure we should be doing this here? What if someone comes in?” For the first time since you found out Rafe was behind that wall you are aware of your surroundings. You’re practically naked in the middle of your church, letting your priest defile you.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. And it’s daddy, to you.” Rafe exhales through his nostrils while pulling the beads so tight that they choke you and pinch your skin. “Never wanna hear you call me ‘Father Cameron’ again. From now on it’s my name or daddy. Got it?” You nod and that isn’t going to do it for him. “Use your words to address me. Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Rafe’s lips break out into a sinister smile. He has you right where he wants you and he’s never letting you go now.

“Good. Now be a good little fuck doll and bend your ass over that pew for me.” You oblige him, feeling equal parts aroused and humiliated as your body bends over the wooden bench. Rafe straight up growls at the sight of you. Those white socks squeeze your plush thighs, cupping the bottom part of your perfect ass that has that little red thong nestled between it. Your pussy is so fucking creamy the crotch of the lace is white and it’s smeared on your legs. And the star of the show? The little bow tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back.

“Well, would you look at that…” Rafe says in a sing-song tone as he approaches you. One of his hands grabs your ass roughly while the other comes to trace a finger along the ink on your back. “You're a lot more naughty than you let on, aren’t you, Angel? Maybe I should punish you for your sins and make you beg for forgiveness?”

“I’m not - I’m not sure what you mean by that, Fa- daddy.” You catch your mistake at the last second, but Rafe doesn’t miss it. Both of his hands come down on either of your asscheeks causing you to jolt forward with a yelp.

“It means I’m going to beat this little ass and you’re going to say ‘thank you daddy’ for every single one.” Rafe spanks your ass with his hand again but the crucifix on top of the Bible next to him is just too good to pass up. He picks it up and runs the cool wood along your ass. He glides it through your dripping folds causing you to look back with a moan. “How about eighteen, since you’re such a sinner? Count.”

“Are you going to use -“ You don’t get to finish asking because your question is quickly answered by the sharp sting of the wooden cross in your ass. “Oh, fuck! One, thank you daddy.”

“Oh good, you’re a quick learner.” He hits you with five more before leaning over to whisper in your ear “that’s six.” And then six more, each harder than the last and you thank him for each and every one. “That’s another six, little sinner.” You expect him to do the last six in succession but after three he pauses to roughly rub the end of the cross against your clit.

“These next ones are gonna hurt real bad.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he kicks your feet further apart before bringing the crucifix between your legs and smacking it against your pussy.

“Oh my goddd, S- Sixteen! Thank you daddy!” Your legs are shaking as you brace yourself for the last two blows. Rafe glides the cross along your inner thigh and back up to your ass before flipping it over and spanking you with the bronzed Jesus, once on each cheek. “Jesus fucking Christ! Seventeen! Eighteen! thank you daddy.” Your body falls limp while you pant, trying to catch your breath as your ass and pussy throb.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.” Rafe rips your panties down your ankles, not bothering to pull them off all the way and runs his fingers through your folds. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy. I’m gonna goddamn destroy you.”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean with a groan. You hear his belt buckle clank and his zipper being pulled down before you feel the head of his cock tapping against your clit. He runs it along your folds, gliding through your wetness with ease. Rafe slides his cock through your asscheeks, smearing your cum around your little hole. He lines up with your dripping entrance and slams into you balls deep in one push. Then he’s fucking into you brutally, no build up, no mercy.

“I knew this little cunt would be so goddamn tight.” Rafe snarls in your ear while one hand grips your ass that’s already breaking out in cross shaped bruises and the other comes up to lace around your rosary, using it as leverage as he continues to buck into you with reckless abandon. “You’re such a depraved whore, letting me fuck you in the middle of the church where anyone could walk in. You're no saint, you're just a sick little pervert.”

“You’re just as disgusting as I am, Rafe.” You glare at him over your shoulder and he looks like the definition of sin. He yanked his collar off and a few buttons down of his shirt at some point showing the gold chain cross against the top of his toned chest, his blonde hair is a complete mess, and the smile painted on his lips is one only a devil would wear. He yanks your rosary until your back is flush against his chest and it’s so tight around your neck you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

“Oh, baby doll, you think this is disgusting? If you could see the things that go through my mind when I look at you then you’d know what the meaning of vile really is.” Rafe growls in your ear and angles his hips so his thick cock is hitting you so deep it has your pussy dripping down his balls and onto both of your thighs. He continues to choke you while finding your clit with his other hand so he can rub rough circles on it. “You gonna come for me? Tell me I’m your god while you cream all over my cock.”

“You’re - you’re my god! Please make me come, god!” You writhe against him and he runs his tongue along the length of your throat before biting down on your neck until you bleed. It sends you over the edge, euphoria overtaking you as your pussy gushes around him.

“Yeah, that’s my good little slut, cum for your god.” Rafe presses on your lower back so you're bent back over the pew before gripping onto your hips and pounding into you like a man possessed. “You’re mine now. I own every corrupted piece of you. Your soul. Your body. Your blood. It’s all fuckin’ mine. Tell me.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours. You’re my god, daddy.” Rafe roars as his hands come down on the bench either side of your head and his hips flush against yours. His cock twitches inside of you while ropes of his cum pump into your pussy. The feeling has an explosion of pleasure washing over you as you cum right along with him. After a moment Rafe pushes off of you, his cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. His large hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling you up and flipping you over so you’re looking at him.

“I meant that shit, you’re fuckin’ mine. Go pack your shit. We’re leaving.” He captures your lips in a messy kiss and god, you wish you had it in you to turn him down and pretend this never happened. But you’ve had one hit of him and now you're addicted. You’re his.

Tagging Rafe mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @eddiesxangel @cameronsprincess @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @rafeyscurtainbangs @gri959 @dreamliners @starkeyisthelastname

Divider by @strangergraphics

[c0ld0utside]

May I request a yandere vampire mafia boss? I dunno you can ignore this if you want

Yandere Vampire Mafia Boss Dad

You got it!

Warnings: Inaccurate Mafia writing, Violence, Death, Kidnapping, Possessiveness

Years ago, before you were born, your father made a deal. In exchange for protection, loans, and medicine for his sick (and pregnant) spouse, they’d donate to another family in need. A family that the people in your downtown side of the city feared greatly, not just because the family was a literal Mafia.

They also weren’t human.

And, like most people in your downtown side of the city, they fell into debt a few years later when you were five.

Growing up, you were used to the man with pointy ears, clear skin, and piercing eyes visiting every three months. Your parents always made you hide out of sight when he was around, usually putting you in your room and telling you that it was nap time or something along those lines. Usually, something that involved you being quiet.

Sometimes, you’d peek through the gaps in the doorway, seeing the much taller stranger tower over your parents and speak with them for a few minutes before taking something and leaving. Sometimes he’d be nice, and sometimes he’d be rude. Sometimes he wouldn’t say much and go on his way. Sometimes someone else showed up.

That day was different though. It was the man you saw most of the time who showed up. You don’t remember the exact words, something about your parents falling far behind in their payments and how their time was up. Your mother had gasped and started begging, your father was trying to negotiate, and before the stranger could do anything you bolted out of your room and hugged your father’s leg.

The stranger paused immediately, eyes going wide. Your father quickly scooped you up and handed you to your mother, who started to back up. She froze when the man hissed at her. Hissed.

“You didn’t tell me your woman was pregnant.” The man said, a furious undertone in his voice. “The Boss isn’t a complete brute, you know.” He went silent, gaze drifting around your home as your father started up again. He wasn’t listening, taking in the worn and unclean scenery. Your home went from being well taken care of to a complete mess over the years.

And then his gaze landed on you.

Judging by the looks of it, you were your parent’s first priority. That gave him some relief, but the stranger knew your parents couldn’t balance you and their debt anymore.

“Y’know, my Godfather lost one of his fledglings recently.” He says. “You remember Matteo, right? Poor kid, only seventeen. May he rest in peace. Godfather’s really torn up about it.”

“No,” Your father says automatically. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t take care of them any longer,” The stranger says, gesturing to you. Instinctively, you cling to your mother and she starts to cry. “Now, now, it’ll be alright.” The man says, voice oddly gently. “If you hand them over, you and your lady will live. I’ll speak with the Boss and we’ll see how things go.”

“I don’t think your boss will be too happy about the idea of replacing Matteo,” Your father says firmly, earning a fist to the face shortly after. You can’t help but scream and the stranger cringes at the sound. “It’s not like that,” The man hisses, kicking your father in the stomach and watching him roll into the kitchen. “Now quit arguing with me and hand over the damn kid.”

You aren’t sure what happens next- it’s all a strange blur. Your father grabs something and tries to attack the stranger with it, and the next there’s red all over the walls and your mother is screaming while the man wipes and licks the red off of his face. He sighs in disappointment again. “It doesn’t have to be this way, lady. Just give them to me-”

She tries to run. Tries to run past him with you in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her plan is simple- get outside and start screaming for help. People will notice. They always do-

You’re ripped from your mother’s embrace and are pulled into the stranger’s chest. The smell of cypress fills your nose, drowning out the smell of iron. Your mother screams your name and gets cut off. It’s only when the man starts to shush you that you realize you’ve been crying and calling out for your mom and dad.

“It’s okay, they’ll be okay.” The man says soothingly, but you know it’s a lie. “They couldn’t take care of you anymore, but the Boss will. He’ll be very happy to meet you.”

-

The Boss observed you the whole time the stranger explained what happened.

“…I know his passing was recent, but I thought-” The man spoke up, but the Boss held up a hand to silence him. “Thank you, Virgil. You may leave.”

“I need to get to know my youngling, after all.”

With a nod, the stranger- Virgil- left the room. The two of you sat there in silence for a while. The Boss was the first to speak.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“[Name],” You reply, voice hesitant and small. He notices immediately and his gaze softens. “Come here, tesoro.” He commands gently, motioning for you to come closer to him. It takes you a few seconds, but with shaky steps you walk over to him. Once close enough the Boss picks you up and places you on his lap.

“My name is Massimo,” He introduces with a small smile. You go cold when you see his fangs, starting to lean away from him. “Oh? It’s alright, tesoro, you’re safe. Now where was I…? Ah- yes, I am Massimo, and I will be your guardian from now on.”

-

Your new life starts out rough for everyone. You’re quiet, keeping to yourself and not engaging. Massimo tries his hardest, talking to you as you sit on his lap while he works. He even takes the time to try and play with you, bringing you dolls and making them do silly things. You smile softly, sometimes even laugh, but it always dies back down.

He sits with you when you eat your meals, taking note of the ones you seem to enjoy and dislike. Massimo tries using desserts to get you to be more talkative, but it doesn't really work. He doesn't give up, though. He'll keep trying no matter what.

When you’re not quiet, you’re crying. You ask for your mom and dad, wanting to go back home. Wanting to see if they’re okay. Wanting to watch TV with your dad and hear stories from your mom. Massimo can’t blame you for not understanding fully just yet. He shushes you, wrapping you up in a hug and rocking you back and forth.

“Your Mama and Papa are gone, tesoro mio, but it’s okay. They’re okay. I’m your parent now, you just need to get used to it.” Massimo whispers, patting your back gently. “But I want my real parents,” You hiccuped, making him frown. “Your real parents couldn’t take care of you anymore, caro/a. So they gave you to me. Virgil had to hurt them because they changed their mind at the last minute and tried to hurt him.”

“You have to understand gioia, if they kept you, you would’ve gotten hurt. Your Mama and Papa were already hurting you. They were selfish. But it’s all okay now, because I’m here. And I won’t ever hurt you. Now shhh, go to bed. I know sleeping during the day is hard, but we need to prepare you for when you officially become my fledgling.”

…

Hey it’s me! The end of the post! I feel like making a part two. Still new to this whole “writing and sharing” thing, hoping it’s been good so far. Let me know if I missed any warnings and do give me criticism. You look lovely today! Take care of yourself and drink water. Go have a snack, too.

[animalsalvationassociation]

A.S.A. Octonauts Headcanons:

Pt. 2 — Barnacles Pt. 1:

Childhood & Younger Years . . . ft. Barnacles’ sister Bianca

His full name is Barnacles Dour Seaver II, he was named after his (now) late father.

Bianca’s real name is Sedna Denali Seaver and was named after her great great grandmother. But when she went to college in the UK no one could pronounce it so she changed it to Bianca.

Her mother happened to do the same thing at her age because of the social standards of having a “normal” name.

Barnacles respects his sister’s wishes to call her Bianca, at least in public, so Sedna has become more of a family used name.

Barnacles grew up in their family Lighthouse with Bianca, his mother Beatrice, as well as their father and grandfather. The lighthouse was built by his ancestors to help wayward boats up north and has been cared for, for over ten generations.

Their family actually has native blood running through them, and have always lived quietly beside the ocean. Only when the lighthouse was built did they officially settle down. Before that they were travelers and participated in special hunting traditions and ceremonies.

In order to continue those traditions Barnacles’ family, as well as many others, meet together once a year to hunt on the sea ice.

Their father was a trades/fisherman within the markets of the north. Unfortunately one year their father’s ship disappeared in a horrible storm when Bianca and Barnacles were only seven.

Their grandfather eventually died some weeks later from heartbreak. That’s when their Auntie Juliette decided to come live with them. Their mother got very sick due to her own ailing heart, forcing the twins to grow up faster than they should’ve in order to take care of their mother.

Natquik, in his own way, became the father Barnacles needed and was always there when it was most important, especially when it came to the rest of his family. It’s because of Natquik that Barnacles was inspired to join the military (or in this case the navy).

Natquik was the one to teach him how to play the Accordion.

A few months after his father disappeared Barnacles fell into the ice hole, it was a very vulnerable time for him. It took several hours for the scouts to get Barnacles out, even then they were still forced to get their scout leaders because of how unstable the ground was, as well as the lack of supplies. He was always grateful to them, especially his sister who refused to leave him behind.

Because of where they lived they had very few friends growing up, and most of them were polar bears. Boris was the first friend he ever made that lived in the ocean, sparking his curiosities about the world beneath the waves.

He did his best to work hard in his studies, hoping to grow his knowledge on the ships that sailed past his little island home.

Barnacles and Bianca made a pact when they were kids that they would always be there for one another no matter where they went in the world. And they keep that promise to this very day.

Barnacles joined the navy as soon as he was old enough while Bianca went off to study English and Social Sciences in London.

By that time a Professor by the name of Lwazi Ntuli had created specialized suits for creatures who otherwise wouldn’t be able to breathe/function in places that weren’t their natural territory. And to test them they were given out to those who earned scholarships from out of the way places such as the Arctic, Antarctic, the seas/ocean, etc, etc.

While studying abroad Bianca rekindled her relationship with an old friend (another polar bear) who was also studying in London at the time. After some odd years they fell in love and married, he eventually became Orson and Ursa’s father.

Unfortunately only a few months after Bianca announced that she was expecting, they got in a car accident and her husband passed away within an hour of arriving at the hospital.

Barnacles didn’t find out until after the twins were born. It shattered his heart to see his sister like this, and he promised himself that it would never allow himself to loose contact again.

Bianca and the twins now live with her mother Beatrice and Auntie Juliette in the lighthouse. Bianca now plans to raise them as she works on her novels. While Barnacles is set to protect the world, Bianca is preparing to take on the role of lighthouse keeper to protect the ships that her ancestors were so keen to watch over.

Kwazii / Captain Barnacles ( 1 / 2 ) / Peso / Dashi / Tweak / Shellington / Inkling

(Note: I decided to change when the cubs were born as I wanted them to be a little older during present time Above and Beyond. I'm still figuring out the timeline so you'll have to forgive me.)

[chizoies]

STRAWHATS FAMILY AU

The Lore Drop:

Alright,in this alternative universe the whole gang is a family. Robin and Franky are married and they are the parents. Brook is Franky’s adoptive father. Jinbei is Robin’s biological father. Brook is African (Nigerian (Bantoid))American and he was never married. Franky is caucasian, his roots comes from Turkiye. Jinbei is Indian, he married Olvia, she is Brazilian. So Robin is half Indian half Brazilian.

Only Luffy and Chopper are Frobin’s biological children.

When Robin and Franky got married, they had realised that they are rich enough to set on a quest to help the children of need so they went to see the world. HEAR ME OUT it makes sense because um Jinbei is a very respected doctor and Brook is a renowned musician; Franky own a ship/boat/cruise fix company and Robin is a doctor in the archeology field 😁 they are rich rich

First, Luffy was born. And their first destination was Japan. That is where they adopted Zoro. He was in Juvenile. They sorted out things and adopted this child to save him. Cause he was innocent. Luffy was 6 and Zoro was 10 when this happened. (I know the punishment age range is after 14 in Japan but the crime they were accusing him of was so severe or something that they had to, like you should know I’m just making shit up leave me alone)

After a few months they go to Finland. That is where they adopt Nami. A Swedish girl who was in the hands of a gun mafia that killed her sister and mother. She was 9. So they fight fight and get her.

The new year comes, and they decide to go to Mozambique. That is where they meet Usopp! When Franky and Zoro was walking through streets with full of shops and all, they run into Usopp (same age as Luffy) who was selling things he built. Usopp’s father Yasopp left their home when he was born, and her mother dies of sickness. The social workers does not give shşt about the poor. Franky sees this spark in him. He and Zoro buys things from him. And at the end of the day Franky asks if he wants a family they can be one to him. Usopp refuses because of his sick friend Kaya. Saying that he cannot leave her. Later in the week, yk the drill they show everyone that Kuro is bad person blah blah, they both save Kaya and Usopp. Usopp accepts to be part of their family.

They make BIG AHH turn and go to France. They drop at some seaside town. Such a nice touristic place. But so many shop owners with rent complaints. The mayor of this town goes againts its country’s law and increases the rents per SECOND. They dig down this mystery by accident and find out that the mayor is a evil motherfrucker scientist. He also has a son , Sanji (10 yo), whose very much so sweet. They want to fight the scientist but the country is actually supporting him. Since his products and the stuff he does supports the economy or something. So they technically kidnap Sanji. But Sanji needs it. With Franky’s relations they get him a fake id and all that. But they promise that ona day they will have enough power to defeat him. Sanji is happy.

The next destination is Canada. That is exactly where Franky and Robin decides to make another child 😁

After that they go to Egypt. They come across an organisation that Robin did her internship, the one that ran by Sir Crocodile. They find a lost child named Vivi. Vivi is an 8 year old who is getting used by Crocodile. They save her, save the country, yay! Allthough Vivi was a part of their family for a quite time after they learned that Vivi was a princess, they help her to meet her father. The Strawhats leave Egypt and promise eachother that they will meet again.

After 9 months Chopper is born. And the family is complete for now. But they are still in a quest to help children. Or to collect them lol. After a while the grandpas also join their quest. And yeah thats it. I would binge read it if someone makes a fanfic about it.

[ghostywastaken]

Alright! I finished the plot and storyline! I'll be posting it here.

Ford and mcgucket have a heated night at some point in 1981, since ford is trans. Ford's falls pregnant unknowingly, both bill and fiddleford notice something off.

Ford has horrible morning sickness, of course he thinks it's just the flu. (He takes after his mom, his mom also had horrible morning sickness!) Fiddleford takes care of him and fiddleford gets reminded of emma-may's morning sickness of when emma-may was pregnant with tate, fiddleford is suspicious. Could Ford be pregnant? Or does he just have the flu? It was confusing

When Ford was about a few months along, fiddleford quit and abandoned him. So when ford became malnourished and paranoid he showed more than he was supposed to, that's when ford found out.

Ford became protective over his unborn child, it was now more than just a few cells. The baby could of died but Ford started eating more after finding out no wonder he was always hungry and having weird odd cravings.

At 37 weeks, he went into labor. Of course the nearest hospital close to gravity falls was a few county's away, so ford went into one of the floors in the basement and gave birth to his baby.

The baby survived, but it needed more care than other baby's of course. Ford went into pre-mature labor because of the malnourishment and insomnia. Ford was just relieved that it wasn't a micro premie. Ford took care of her for the first five months of her life, than Ford felt grief and guilt. He had to protect her from bill so out in a blizzard he gently put her on a Doorstep, and ran.

Ford got kidnapped by fiddleford the day after that.

A lovely couple found her and adopted her, at 8 years old. 4 years after her adoptive parents son was born, her adoptive father became extremely abusive. He would beat all three of them and would get insanely pissed off when her adoptive brother Robert would cry. When she was 9 and he was just starting kindergarten, her adoptive brother got beat to death.. she was devastated and felt extreme rage towards her adoptive father.

When she was 16, bill came to her through her dreams. He convinced her that he would take care of her adoptive father, she was amazed by this idea and let bill in her mind. Bill possessed her and murdered her adoptive father on the spot. Unfortunately bill immediately betrayed her letting her adoptive mother's mother walk in on the bloody scene.

She got arrested and her adoptive father got rushed to the hospital, he didn't make it. She was surprisingly in jail until 19 years old, than she was released.

Than she met her dad's again, survived weirdmageddon, and lived her life successfully. (She never told ford about her criminal record only mcgucket but mcgucket didn't care. She told stan too.)

Bonus! When dipper and mabels parents divorced, she comforted them often. She understood separated parents..

She also met tate when she turned 30, it was awkward at first but they slowly started to warm up to eachother.

[blackypanther9]

How M/n met Mimzy

WARNING!: Cursing, insulting words, threatening, Racist behavior (in memories), angst, Reader is supportive of Alastor, mention of drugging, poisoning, abuse AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

A/N: Remember it is only a fanfic and I just built in background ! Nothing is REAL nor intented to hurt anyone ! Picture belongs to rightful owner ! zeotropes0 The sick part is after the Mimzy part it starts at "M/n felt like utter shit."

TAGLIST!: @zoetropes0, @l0liamk @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved

Words: 7 365

It had been almost 3 years since M/n was living with Alastor. They formed a strong and very close bond too, in that short time. The Radio Host found it high time, that M/n met one of his close friends, Mimzy.

The boy was excited and nervous since Alastor informed him about that. That day was a Friday and the second week of the month in October. Alastor got Saturday and Sunday off from work and decided to meet up with Mimzy again.

“So...what are they like ?”, M/n asked his Father.

Alastor didn’t tell M/n that it was a girl. All he said was “a friend”.

“Oh, you’ll LOVE her, mon petit (My little one) ! She’s a real Sweetheart !”, Alastor replied happily.

M/n stopped dead in his tracks, of cleaning up his Dad’s office. He turned to him, stiffly.

“HER ?”, the boy repeated and stared at his Father, who just threw away packages of their lunches from the day.

“Yes indeedy ! You’ll love her ! And I’m sure she’ll love you as well !”

M/n suddenly didn’t feel too sure about that anymore. With his Dad’s new Boss, after Mr. Floyd was found dead in the park not far from here, he started to get very possessive and protective of his Father.

Miss Revonna Ducasse was her name. She constantly tried to get into his pants. M/n couldn’t really blame all the women that threw longing eyes at his Father. He looked handsome and well groomed, he was an absolute Goofball, he never complained about anything, he had manners, he had high morals, he was well raised despite his bad Childhood and he was an absolute charming Gentleman. There was nothing to hate about him. At least in M/n’s opinion.

Of course there were haters. The racists mostly. Because his Dad had a mixed skin color. What M/n loved most about his Dad was that he was a Creole. He spoke English and French. It gave him a slight accent in his voice, but Alastor always tried to suppress it, no one ever really heard his accent, not even M/n did. Why was Alastor hiding his New Orleans accent ?

Because he is ashamed to have it. His Father and a few kids in his school made fun out of him for a long time. His Father later on forced him to speak, what he considered, normally. His Mother was the only one that was still allowed to hear it, as she was still alive. After she died, he always suppressed it.

How did M/n know about his Father’s accent ? Well...let’s just say a lot of people have it around and it confused the boy greatly, until Alastor explained it to him. He knew that his Father was born and raised here, so M/n came to the simple conclusion that he suppressed his accent, for whatever reason. M/n pestered him about it once and Alastor spilled the tea.

Why did M/n not have that accent ? His birth parents and Sister didn’t have that accent. He supposed they came from a different state and then just moved here. After all...Alastor had to teach M/n French, to understand his Dad and to communicate with him, when he doesn’t want anyone else to know, what they are discussing.

M/n was not as thrilled anymore, to meet his Dad’s friend. It was a girl. YUCK !

“Are you sure you can trust her, Papa ?”, M/n asked gently.

He turned to his Son.

“Of course I am sure, Cher !”, he said, surprised that his Son seemed to not like the idea as much anymore.

M/n bit his lip and only nodded gently.

“Parle-t-elle français ? (Does she speak French ?)”, M/n asked.

“Elle le fait un peu. (She does a bit.)”

So M/n can’t converse with his Dad in French...great...

“Applesauce.”, M/n cursed in a huff.

Alastor looked at his Son in slight concern. Why was he so annoyed suddenly ?

“What seems to be the Problem, Son ?”, he asked gently.

“I don’t like that she can partly understand and speak French. I hate it when people understand what we converse. What if there is something I want to tell you and she is not supposed to hear it ? I will have to wait until we are home and who knows what could have happened until then !”, the boy stressed.

Alastor gave him a confused look.

“What are you implying, mon petit ?”

M/n looked at his Father, as if he was the most stupid man on earth.

“With all due respect, Papa...HAVE YOU LOOKED AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR ?!”, M/n yelled and wildly pointed all over Alastor’s figure.

The Radio Host grew insecure about his form. What was his Son trying to get across ?

M/n saw insecurity creeping into his Father and he huffed. He approached his Father, snatched his hand in a tight grip and dragged him away, to the men bathroom. He locked the door behind himself and then pushed Alastor in front of the full body mirror.

The Radio Host could see his Son’s glare, arms crossed over his chest. Even though he was soon a 9 year old boy, he seemed very wise.

“What do you see, and do not DARE to lie to me.”, M/n said.

Alastor looked into the mirror, nervously.

“Uhm...What...am I supposed to see, Cher ?”

M/n face palmed.

“Look at yourself in the mirror and tell me what you see, when you look at yourself. Applesauce, Father !”, M/n cursed with a slight glare.

Alastor did and memories came crashing back down on him. His smile wavered.

 “Look at you ! Disgusting ! Look how brown you are !”

“Eww ! Why is he so dark ?!”

“Freak !”

“Just as disgusting as your Mother ! I knew it was a stupid idea to marry that Bitch and have a brat like you with her !”

“He needs a bath to wash the color off of his skin !”

_________________

Children pushed him into the mud and “Bathed” him to be browner.

“Let’s bathe him in mud, so he will get darker ! Hahahaha !”

“Stop it ! Please, stop it !”, his younger self sobbed out.

He couldn’t control how he came out. Why was he punished for this ? Why did color of skin matter ?!

_________________

His Father threw him onto the ground outside, onto small stones. His grin was sinister.

“Come on, Brat. You need a bath.”

His child self sobbed, staring at his Father in fear. His own Father...

The man grabbed small stones in his hands, snatched his younger self’s left arm and started to roughly rub the stones on his skin. Causing the boy to cry and his skin to split open. He tried to pull it away.

“Maybe you are lighter underneath once this disgusting layer is off !”, the man mocked the boy.

“Dad ?”

“Rub it off !”

The boy tried to fight his Father off.

“Papa ?!”

“RuB iT oFf !”

He continued to fight him, yelling and screaming in pain, but the man didn’t stop.

“Papa !”

“RUB IT OFF !”

There was so much pain and blood-

“PAPA !!!”

Alastor jolted out of his memories with a flinch. He looked at M/n from the mirror, who had wide eyes of worry and fear. Unshed tears stood in the boy’s eyes, which confused Alastor, until he looked at himself in the mirror.

His smile was gone, his fingers were digging into his arms, which were in front of his chest and tears were running down his cheeks. He was in every aspect...NOT alright. He jolted in surprise as something collided with his legs and waist. He looked down and saw his Son, hugging him tightly.

He released his hold on his arms and ran his right hand through his Son’s hair, gently.

“I see a dark skin colored man, with a weak figure and he has silly little tantrums over nothing.”, Alastor answered softly.

That’s how he really felt, since his own Father hated him. He was the hated child since he was born. The only one who loved him...was his Mother.

M/n squeezed his Father’s legs, before he let go.

“That is not true at all, Papa.”

“You wanted me to tell you what I see. I see just that when I see...myself.”

Alastor yelped in surprise as he felt a smack on his ass, a harsh one. He looked at his Son in the mirror, M/n’s eyes gave him a harsh stare back.

“Well then, here is what me and many others see, you absolute Dumbo !”

Alastor felt slightly insulted, but kept it in for now.

“I see a very charismatic man, he is charming, sweet, gentle, understanding, has a big heart, loves to do his job, loves to help, hates people with bad manners and he is so much more showing into the open world. The man, me and many others see, is handsome, a Gentleman, looks always well groomed, he is an absolute Goofball, he never complains about anything, he has manners, he has high morals, he was well raised despite his bad Childhood and he is an absolute Sweetheart.”, M/n listed off.

Alastor’s eyes were wide in shock and awe. That’s how his Son saw him ?

“You always dress properly, you always talk politely, you never show your annoyance, whatever you do, you do it politely. You barely lie, you take care of the people you care about and it is easy to make friends with you. You are easy to approach and talk to. You can make someone feel very welcomed and listened to. Not many have these traits, Papa. All in all...you are true Husband material. You scream ravishing and sexy no matter where you are.”, M/n continued.

The Radio Host looked at M/n from the mirror, while he eyed himself too. He never saw the appeals. If M/n points all that out though...he had a point.

“Where are you going with this, Cher ?”, Alastor asked gently.

“What I am getting at is that a lot of women are attracted to you and would do anything to get into your bed ! You scream sexy ! I don’t want you to think that girl pals will suddenly be happy, with you just being their friend ! Stay alerted ! Friends like that could easily use you ! I want what is best for you and I saw many women and even a few men eye you like candy in a store !”, M/n yelled at him frustrated.

At that Alastor turned around and actually looked at his Son. Was that all ? M/n was worried about him ? Overprotective ? He gave his Son a small smile.

“Are you worried about me or jealous that you could lose all my attention ?”, he asked his Son.

“I am concerned for you, Dad. Miss Ducasse already tried multiple times to get into your pants, claiming that she was your Boss and you have to listen to her. Do you really think I would not hear that Blueberry juice ?”, he asked him stressed out.

Alastor’s smile wavered. Ah yes...Ducasse tried to force him into sexual activity with herself, by threatening to fire him. Since then M/n was most of the times with him and if he wasn’t one of his coworkers waited for him to arrive and be by his side at all times. He still had no idea how they knew.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and gave his Son a big smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Cher ! Nothing bad will happen !”, he assured him.

Then he looked at his watch and tutted.

“We have to hurry, otherwise we will be late to meet up with her !”

With that he unlocked and opened the door. M/n followed behind his Father. He had a BAD gut feeling about this...

And his gut was NEVER wrong before.

-Time skip-

They finally arrived at their destination, which was a bar. M/n looked around in nerves and Alastor led him to a table. It was close to a small stage in the bar and M/n felt even worse in his gut. He looked around, nervously.

“Relax, Cher ! Nothing bad will happen here.”, the Radio Host assured the boy with a smile.

Then a waitress came and asked for their orders. Alastor ordered himself a New Orleans Sazerac and for M/n a nonalcoholic orange juice. She noted it all down and then left to get them their drinks.

Suddenly music started and the stage lit up. Alastor had a big smile on his face and looked at the stage. M/n turned and looked too, soon enough there was a woman. She was a bit on the shorter size, she started to sing. M/n didn’t like her voice all that much...

It was a good song, but the woman’s voice just didn’t really fit for it. But as he looked at his Father, he only saw him smile and enjoy the show.

‘How can he like the song with this voice ?’

Soon enough their drinks arrived and Alastor was casually sipping his New Orleans Sazerac. M/n didn’t touch his juice and looked at the female, singing. He scoffed in his mind, knowing he could do better with his kid voice. He can sing his Father’s favorite song without any help and would sing better than her.

‘This is gonna be a loooong night...’, M/n groaned annoyed in his mind.

He looked at his happy Father again. He didn’t glare at him, but he would so love to at the moment.

‘The things I do for him...He better be happy for the rest of this week, otherwise I will NEVER come here with him again. This is pushing my patience...This woman is NOT my cup of tea...’

-An hour later-

The show was over, finally.

‘Finally ! I thought I will die soon enough !’

Some songs were alright, with that voice of the woman, but most of them didn’t really...get the glory and appreciation with that voice. In his eyes it sounded like a woman’s voice trying too hard to fit with every song. In some it just...didn’t sound good. That so many clapped at that, his own adoptive Father included, is beyond him.

What M/n couldn’t help with though...was questioning himself with where his Father’s girl buddy was. She is an hour late. Did his Dad lie to him, to go drinking ? He had his second New Orleans Sazerac and M/n had his fifth orange juice.

Ten minutes passed as suddenly the same voice, from the woman on the stage from before, called out Alastor’s name. M/n snapped his head around and stared at the woman, that approached their table with a smile. He looked at his Father and his eyes almost bulged out of his skull, his old man was smiling at her and waved her over.

‘Oh HELL NO.’

M/n slumped his shoulders for three seconds then sat back up properly and looked at her.

“Hello, dear Mimzy !”, Alastor greeted happily.

Alastor waited for her to approach and then she sat down on the chair next to Alastor, practically in front of M/n. He fought very hard the glare he wanted to send her and looked at his Dad instead. He looked at his Son in return, with a bright smile.

“M/n, this lovely woman is Mimzy. Mimzy, this is my Son, M/n.”, he introduced the two of them.

She gave the boy a smile and waved at him.

“Hello there, little one. Nice to meet you.”, she greeted warmly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Mimzy.”, M/n politely greeted back, a smile on his face.

He knew women like Mimzy. She was just putting up a show right now. She was NOT friendly. Alastor chuckled and emptied his glass again, then stood up, looking at them both.

“I need to use the restroom. Please do get acquainted, you two.”, Alastor encouraged them, then left.

“Be careful, Papa !”, M/n called after him.

“I will be, Cher !”, Alastor replied and then was gone.

M/n turned to Mimzy and as expected...she glared at him.

“So you are the little runt, Al took in out of pity.”, she snarled.

M/n glared back at her.

“Excuse you ? What did you fucking call me, bitch ?”, the soon to be nine year old asked darkly.

“Oh and such bad manners towards a Lady too. How disgusting.”, she said with an insulted voice.

“I’m not a mirror, woman. You called me a fucking runt. Do you really expect me to still be polite, when you can’t be polite towards me ? You want my respect ? Fucking earn it.”, M/n growled out with a death glare.

“Respect your elders, you rude brat.”, she scoffed.

“Respect your next generation, if you still want the world to turn, after your departure, disgusting, foul, bitch. Your future is in OUR hands. The next generation’s hands.”, M/n spat.

She glared harshly at him, which didn’t intimidate M/n. He stayed strong and didn’t look away at all. Staring contest ? You are on, Mimzy.

“I will tell you how this will go now, brat. I want you gone, away from MY Alastor, in a week. You aren’t until then, I will make him get rid of you.”, she threatened M/n.

The boy scoffed.

“For what do you take me for ? A stupid child ? Listen here whore, my Father doesn’t belong to you, he doesn’t even belong to me. I belong to HIM. Big difference, sugar cube. Alastor OWNS me. You want to own him and I won’t let that happen. Curl up and die, bitch.”, M/n told her darkly and gave her the finger.

“What would Alastor just think, if he hears about this, hmm ?”, she asked with a grin, thinking she had the upper hand.

M/n smirked back.

“What would Papa think, if he finds out what kind of bitch his friend is, hmm ? He believes me everything, because I never lie. He KNOWS he can trust my words more than anyone’s.”, he countered.

Her eyes grew wide at that. Her face turned red and the soon to be 9 year old could see how angered she was at that. Then M/n saw his Father return and pretended like nothing happened. He gave Mimzy a subtle smirk, only she could see and then a wink. She scowled.

“So, what have I missed, you two ?”, Alastor asked happily as he sat back down.

M/n looked at his Father with a big smile.

“Not much. Can I have another glass of Orange juice, please, Papa ?”, M/n asked with a smile.

Alastor smiled warmly at his Son, thinking he warmed up to Mimzy, and nodded. He called over a waitress and asked for a glass of whiskey and a glass of orange juice. After the waitress left, Alastor suggested that Mimzy would talk about her life a bit, before she came here as performer.

With that they stayed for at least another hour, listening to Mimzy’s life story, which didn’t interest M/n at all, after the stunt she pulled. He just wanted to get out and never come back, with his Father in tow.

M/n gave Mimzy very little information about himself, which Alastor respected. It took M/n a bit, to warm up to him too. After it was starting to get really late for M/n, in Alastor’s opinion, he decided to pay for the drinks he and his Son had, to say Goodbye and then he went home with M/n.

“So, how was she, Cher ?”

‘An absolute self centered, needy, bratty Bitch...’

“She was alright, I guess. I still need time to connect to her, but I think we will get there, Papa.”, M/n lied easily.

For Alastor, the boy didn’t speak his mind. He wants to keep his Father safe and sheltered, but he doesn’t want to see him sad either, so he will not tell him that they both hate each other and they insulted one another.

“That’s good news, mon petit !”, the Radio Host replied happily, unaware of what really happened.

As they arrived home, Alastor quickly got to cooking a warm meal and M/n went to his room and started to get dressed into his Pyjamas. He washed his hands and growled. The last glass of Orange juice tasted weird. Mimzy brought it. Did she spike it ?

“I swear if this hoe spiked my drink...I will go fucking wild...”, he growled under his breath.

After a few minutes, Alastor called M/n down for Dinner, which he quickly sat down for. Together they ate their meal and then went to bed. M/n promised to wash the dishes tomorrow morning for him.

-The next day-

M/n felt like utter shit. He twisted in bed, didn’t want to get up either. His stomach was doing flips and it was hurting. Mimzy did put something in his drink then...

The door opened to his room.

“Mon petit~! Wake up, rise and shine !”, Alastor cheerily called.

He had a bright smile on his face, but it weakened as he heard his Son groan weakly. M/n never did that, he always got up and greeted him with a yawn. He opened the curtains for the windows and then approached the bed, with M/n inside it. He knelt down and looked at the boy’s face, which was hidden in the blanket.

“Cher ? What’s wrong ?”, he asked worried.

M/n couldn’t speak. He was afraid to throw up if he did. He waved his hands slowly around and tried to communicate with his Dad like that, but Alastor didn’t understand anything. Why was he waving his hands slowly, instead of talking ?

The boy got tears in his eyes. He wanted to speak, but he felt too on edge of throwing up, to do so. He pointed to his desk. It took Alastor a bit to understand what he wanted him to do, but he turned to the desk.

“You want me at your desk ?”, he asked his Son and looked at him.

A thumbs up.

Alastor got up and went to it.

“What now, Cher ?”

M/n made a motion for his note book and a pen, then motioned a writing motion carefully.

“You want me to get your note book and a pen ?”

Thumbs up.

Alastor grabbed the items and then returned to his Son’s side. M/n VERY carefully sat up and took the items, his teeth clenched shut and Alastor saw how pale his Son was. He slowly wrote into the note book. As he finished he gave his Father the book to read.

I don’t feel good. Feel like vomiting and my stomach is all over the place.

He looked at his Son and gave the book back to him.

“Do you know what caused it ?”, he asked.

Again M/n wrote then gave it back to Alastor.

I think it was the last glass of orange juice. Tasted different than the other glasses I had.

His eyes widened at that and he rushed down the stairs as fast as possible, almost falling over his own feet twice. He ripped up his phone and quickly called his house Doctor. He picked up quickly and answered.

“Mr. Hugo, I think my nine year old Son got drugged yesterday ! What shall I do ?!”, Alastor panicked.

On the other line the man replied and asked questions.

“I don’t know ! He said the last orange juice he had yesterday evening tasted funny ! All he had after that was Dinner, but he didn’t complain ! His face was only scrunched up with the last glass of orange juice ! He feels like throwing up and his stomach is all over the place !”

He was silent again, worried sick. What if his Son will die ?! No, no, no ! He can’t think like that !

“Alright ! I will do that ! Thank you ! I will see you there !”

He hung up and hurried to get ready to leave the house, then he rushed to his Son’s room, who laid back down and was confused. Alastor picked him up, bridal style and still wrapped up in his blanket, then he went out of the room, down the stairs, out of the house and put M/n into his car, in the back.

Then he closed the car door and rushed back into the house. He got a bucket for his Son and then he got a few clothes for M/n packed, then he rushed back out, locked the house door, jumped into his car, started the engine and drove off.

“We are driving to the hospital, M/n. Hold on and try to not puke.”, Alastor said with a frightened voice.

The boy felt bad for worrying his Dad and slowly lifted his arm, showing a thumb up. Alastor hurried over to the hospital quickly and there his house doctor already stood. Dr. Hugo. The Radio Host stopped the car, turned off the engine, unlocked the car and then jumped out, while the doctor also rushed to the car.

Alastor carefully got out his Son from the back and then turned to Dr. Hugo. He looked at M/n’s pale face and took a sharp inhale.

“This pale skin is NOT normal, not even for sick kids. Follow me, Mr. Hazbin.”, Dr. Hugo said and rushed into the hospital.

Alastor locked up his car and ran after his doctor, with M/n in his arms.

“I need an empty room ! We need to pump out a little boy’s stomach ASAP !”, Mr. Hugo yelled.

Nurses and other doctors rushed around at that and the three were led into an empty patient room. Alastor put him down on the table and Dr. Hugo was about to shoo him out, but he saw how tightly M/n held his Father.

M/n was scared shitless. He had no idea what was going on and Alastor was the only one, he could trust and he knew him best. Everything went too fast, too much stress at once, he was so scared. He didn’t want his Father to leave.

Alastor looked down at his Son and saw that M/n was so scared that he even let tears fall. His plea was obvious.

He wanted him to stay by his side.

He turned to Mr. Hugo, who sighed and pulled up a chair, for the Radio Host to sit down on. He sat down and held his Son’s hand the whole time, while the nurses and Dr. Hugo worked on M/n.

Alastor himself had a few tears in his eyes. How could he let this happen to his Son ?! Whoever drugged M/n...will PAY. Not his child. No one hurts HIS child and gets away with it !

-Time skip-

M/n was passed out on the bed, he was moved onto, after they pumped out his stomach. Right now, the remains, which were in M/n’s stomach, were in the lab. Alastor sat next to his Son on the bed, watching over him. Some color returned to his Son’s face at least. That was a positive thing. At least that was what Dr. Hugo said.

The door opened again and Alastor’s head snapped up, spotting his house doctor.

“What did you find ?”, the Radio Host asked softly.

The doctor sighed and leaned against the closed door.

“You are lucky that you have such a fighter, for a Son, Mr. Hazbin. M/n should be dead already.”, the man informed.

The Radio Host’s eyes widened, in horror.

“Wh-what ?”

“It was a very high overdose on painkillers. It should have killed him overnight, but he made it through until now. And color seems to return to his face just fine now, so he survived it closely. Just throwing up...wouldn’t have solved it. The stomach pumping was his salvation. Good quick thinking.”

He looked at his Son in horror. Someone wanted to KILL him !

“W-was it...in the orange juice ?”, Alastor shakily asked.

“It was, I’m afraid.”, Dr. Hugo confirmed with a sigh.

That solved it then. No more going to the bar for a while. If Mimzy wants to meet up with him again, she will have to come and visit him, no more bars for a while.

“As soon as he wakes up we will run a few tests and determine if he can go back home. He will be very weak and have a weakened Immune System for a few days. He needs a lot of bed rest and he will need a lot of help, moving to the bathroom and such.”

“I can take care of that, if he is allowed back home. I just need a sick leave for my Job and then I can take full care of my Son.”, Alastor replied.

He will always be there for M/n, no matter what.

The doctor nodded and left.

-Time skip-

M/n woke up a while ago, had all the tests run on him and was allowed to return home. Dr. Hugo himself said that he will send the sick leave, for the Radio Host, to his workplace, himself.

Alastor brought him to bed and covered him in the blanket properly, then opened the boy’s bedroom window, to let fresh air inside.

“Papa...?”, M/n called out weakly.

Alastor turned around, looking at M/n with a small smile.

“Yes, mon petit ?”

“Are...are you mad at me...?”

It shocked the man. Why would his Son think that ?

“Why would you think that, Son ? No, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be ? You should be mad at me, for letting this happen to you, in the first place.”

M/n gave him a soft smile.

“You couldn’t have known. I never blamed you in the first place. I should have told you the juice tasted off as soon as I tasted it...”, the boy said, fumbling with his fingers.

“It’s alright, Cher. Now we need to focus on getting you back to health. A lot of chicken soup, vitamin juices and herbal teas will do the trick in no time.”

M/n gave his Father a smile. It was weak, but he tried and Alastor appreciated the effort. He ran his hand through his Son’s hair with a soft smile.

“Now get some more rest. I will wake you up, when the food is done cooking. Deal ?”

M/n gave the adult a big smile.

“Deal. Don’t hurt yourself on accident, Papa. I love you.”

Alastor’s smile became brighter. His Son really cared about him.

“I’ll be careful, Cher. I love you too. Now get some rest.”

With that Alastor left the room and went into the kitchen. He left M/n’s bedroom door ajar, in case M/n needed something. Then he got, quickly, to cooking his Mother’s infamous chicken soup.

As the soup was done, Alastor prepared two bowls with it and then carried them up the stairs. He almost dropped the bowls, as he saw his Son standing on badly shaking legs. He rushed to M/n’s desk, put the two bowls down and then returned to his child’s side, quickly.

“What were you thinking ? Mon petit, you are far too weakened to move on your own.”, Alastor scolded softly.

“S-sorry, Papa. I just wanted to go to the Bathroom and I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I will be able to make it alone...”, M/n replied softly.

The Radio Host sighed softly. He forgot that M/n was very selfless and never wants to bother him with small things the boy can deal with alone. He lend the small boy his arm, which the child took as support.

“Now then, let’s get you to the Bathroom, Cher.”

“O-okay, Papa.”

With Alastor’s help, M/n was guided to the Bathroom, that was connected with his Bedroom. He let the boy support himself from the sink to the toilet, then he closed the door.

“Tell me when you are done, Cher. Then we can eat.”

“I will, Papa. Thank you.”

“No problem, mon petit.”

Alastor waited at the door. He heard his Son flush the toilet and not long later the water running in the sink. He washed his hands then.

“I’m done, Dad.”, M/n said softly as the water was off again.

Alastor opened the door and then reached out his arm again. M/n grabbed it tightly and then he was led back to bed. The Father helped to cover the boy in his blankets again and then he went to fetch the bowls. M/n sat up comfortably, while Alastor sat next to him, on his bed, to the right side.

“Bon apetit, Cher.”, the man said.

“Bon apetit, Papa.”, the boy repeated.

Together they dug into their soup and the boy hummed, loving the taste.

“This tastes awesome, Dad ! How did you make it ?”, M/n asked in wonder, eating another spoonful after he asked.

Alastor chuckled lightly, a fond smile on his face.

“My Mother made a recipe for a good chicken soup. Sadly...it doesn’t taste as good as when she made it. I...always seem to miss something to add into it.”

M/n looked at his Father. He rarely heard about his Grandma.

“How was Grandma ? What was she like ?”, the boy asked.

Alastor looked at him, contemplating if the boy was ready to hear of her. He shook his head.

“Another time, Cher.”

“Dad, come on ! You told me a bit about her already. Why not more ? You clearly loved her a lot ! Was she really THAT bad ?”, M/n asked.

His head whipped around quickly, to look at his Son.

“She was NOT bad !”, Alastor yelled, slightly angered.

The boy flinched, but didn’t back down.

“Then why do you not want to share with me anything about her ?! I am YOUR SON, Dad ! She would be basically my Grandma !”

Alastor looked away after a while of seeing his Son frustrated with his closed off behavior.

“It...is hard to talk about her with others, Cher. I don’t tell everyone how my Family used to be.”, Alastor replied.

“I understand that, Papa. I really do, but I am Family too, aren’t I ? I am your child. Do I not deserve to know how my Grandparents used to be ? I already missed the opportunity to meet them in person. I can only hope for stories from you now.”

His Son had a point and the Radio Host knew that. He sighed and had a soft smile on his face. He knew it might fade soon, but...M/n was Family. He can let his charade drop around him.

“My Mother...Your Mummo (Grandma), was a very kind and caring soul. She loved to cook, she always knew how to cheer me up and she taught me everything I know, to be a Gentleman.”

M/n just looked at him, as his Father opened up about his Mother, eating his soup slowly. VERY slowly.

“She never had much problems with what I did. There were simple, loose rules in the house. Don’t curse, don’t yell in the house, arms off of the table when you eat, sit straight, respect your elders, no running in the house, don’t lie to Momma and no pets. I always kept to the rules, my Mom put up. I never yelled at her, I never hurt her on purpose and I always listened.”

M/n grew concerned. It seemed like his Father was out of the picture...

“What about your...Father ?”

Alastor tensed, but sighed and tried to relax.

“You are too young to hear everything about that man yet, but...he was NOT a good man, mon petit.”

At that M/n grew worried.

“What...what did he do to you two ?”, he asked worried.

Alastor looked at his Son, smile gone and a certain darkness in his eyes, dancing around like a wild fire.

“Whenever he came home...he usually had bad, stressful days and couldn’t get drunk and cheat on my Mother.”

‘So a drinking, cheating Bastard...’

“When he came home in such moods...there were more rules.”

“Like ?”

“Do not speak unless spoken to, you eat what was on the table, do not engage with him unless he starts to engage with you, you are not allowed to leave the table until he said you can or left himself first, you are not allowed to give him any attitude either and you are not allowed to say no to him. He wants you to get him a beer, you will get it, otherwise...”, Alastor cut himself off.

M/n stared at his Father in horror.

“You are NOT telling me that he was abusive, are you ?”

Alastor looked into his soup, head hanging low.

“That is exactly what I am telling you, Cher.”, he weakly replied.

‘Holy shit... we actually have something in common, just that he had a loving Mom by his side and I only had my Sister.’

The Radio Host took a deep breath. M/n gave him his full attention.

“He wanted me to act like him. Abusive, towards women and lesser people. He said if someone comes at me with attitude, I give it back to them, while my Mother said that is NOT how I should behave. When my Father was out of the house, my Mother taught me how to be a Gentleman. When he noticed what she was doing, that she taught me everything I needed to know and do one day, for myself, he forced me into other activities with him. I made a small mistake...well, I think you can guess the outcome.”, Alastor told him dully.

M/n stared at him, mouth agape. He always thought that at least his Family was great, when he was a child.

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BEG YOUR OWN PARENTS TO NOT STOP BEING YOUR PARENTS ! YOU WEREN’T BLAMED FOR YOUR SISTER’S DEATH ! YOU WEREN’T BEATEN AND ABUSED BY YOUR OWN PARENTS ! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO HAVE A FEELING TO ALWAYS TRY TO BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM SO THEY WILL ACCEPT YOU ! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SLEEP OUTSIDE AND STARVE ! YOU WEREN’T ABANDONED BY YOUR OWN PARENTS ! YOU DIDN’T HAD TO SEE YOUR OWN SISTER’S CONDITIONS WHEN SHE CAME HOME WOUNDED BADLY AND YOU HAD TO TAKE CARE OF HER AND LISTEN TO HER TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED ! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SEE HOW THEY BEAT YOUR SISTER IN SCHOOL AND NO ONE CARED! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SEE HER GETTING TAKEN BY SOME PERVERTED FREAKS ! YOU DIDN’T HAD TO FIND HER LIKE THIS THE NEXT DAY AND FIND OUT THAT THESE SICK FUCKS ARE STILL OUT THERE ! I DID ! I HAD TO ! WHILE NO ONE ELSE NEEDED TO BE PERFECT FOR THEIR PARENTS, I HAD TO BE THAT AND SO MUCH MORE !”

M/n looked down in shame as he remembered that day. He judged his Father way too quickly. Just because he seemed happy all the time, didn’t that mean that he really was. His childhood wasn’t rainbows and sunshine either.

He might not have been forced to beg both parents to not stop loving him, but he had to practically endure his Father’s torture. He didn’t have to see a sibling getting hurt all the time, but he probably was forced to see his Mother getting hurt a lot. He was beaten and bruised as a child, just as his Mother was probably. The worst was...it happened at home, a place you were supposed to be safest. His Mother might have confided in him and he probably saw her crumbling a lot. Just as M/n had to see Linda crumble apart all the time and it was up to him, to get her back up. Alastor and M/n had something in common. Shit parents. At least...shit Fathers, in Alastor’s case.

The boy put the empty bowl on the nightstand and then hugged his Father tightly, who took a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry I asked. But, if it helps, he is gone now. No more pain and torture.”, the child said softly.

Alastor chuckled weakly and put his hand on top of M/n’s smaller ones, that were on his stomach, wrapped around.

“Yes, he is gone now. Anyways !”

And the switch flipped again. M/n found it amusing nowadays. Alastor can change the mood so quickly...

“My Mother she cooked the best foods ever ! Jambalaya was one of the best ! I always helped her in the kitchen and cooked with her, when I could ! She was such a loving person, you would have LOVED her ! There were a few times she scolded me, but it wasn’t often. Without her...I would never be the person I am today, mon petit.”

M/n smiled at that and hugged his Father tighter, while Alastor finally ate the rest of his own soup. After he made sure that they both were full, he collected the bowls and brought them into the kitchen. He entered his Son’s room again, with a bright smile on his face.

“Now, you better take a nap, Cher. The more you sleep and drink, the faster you will be better !”, the Father said happily.

“Papa ?”, M/n called softly.

Alastor stopped dead in his tracks, as he was about to leave. He turned back around, looking at the boy.

“Yes, mon petit ?”

“Can you...tell me a Story to fall asleep to ? I don’t care which.”

Alastor put his finger on his chin, pretending to think about it.

“Hmmm....Oh, alright then. But only one.”, the adult replied.

M/n smiled and nodded. Only one.

Alastor sat down next to his Son, on his bed, and started to tell the story about the wolf and the seven little goats.

As he finished, his Son was fast asleep and Alastor left, smiling softly. It felt good to confide in his child about his past. He thought it would feel...bad. Like a forbidden thing to do. Maybe...he will take M/n to his Mother’s grave soon. He deserved that kind of closure. But for now...Alastor has to help his child back on his little feet.

He will kill whoever poisoned his Son, as soon as he finds them.

Over the days, M/n quickly regained his strength. But while he was sick, he gave Alastor a hard time keeping up. At some nights, M/n woke up and needed the Bathroom. The Radio Host was a light sleeper, so imagine his fright when he jumped out of sleep, due to a loud thump, coming from his Son’s room, only to find him hissing in pain on the floor.

He quickly noticed that his Son hated to bother him with such small things. He wanted to move on his own and didn’t want his Father to feel forced to care for M/n, like he was a newborn fawn, that still needs to learn how to walk.

Most food M/n consumed, but some of the dishes, Alastor cooked, made M/n feel sick, so the adult was mindful of what he cooked. It wasn’t his Son’s fault, that his body recovered like that. He will be back to normal soon enough, was all they both always thought. And in less than a week, he was completely fine again.

Alastor had to scold him a lot for trying to walk on his own, after he continuously fell on his face anyways, but otherwise, M/n didn’t put up much of a fight.

What the man didn’t know, was that M/n knew who poisoned him and he was giving that person a lesson to learn from one day.

The audacity of that bitch...

Masterlist HERE !

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized

7/9 Shadowplay

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

Christmas came and went, and all she knew was that Simon wasn't working. She still didn't know where he lived – whether he had a home in Manchester or if he resided elsewhere. He could live in London for all she knew. He could live down the street, and she wouldn't have a clue about it.

She sent him pictures of her family and the Christmas tree, of the cute pajamas her parents had got her – they still got her cozy sleepwear as a gift, like she was a child. She sent her a photo of herself later with that thing on. Or most of it on, anyway. She even added a few hearts to her texts, knowing he wouldn't return them. Simon was born at a time before emojis were even invented.

She didn't know if he spent the holidays with his family. It was odd to even imagine Simon in a happy, domestic setting, sipping grog or decorating a tree. His father was dead, and he rarely talked about his brother or mother. All the details he had given her of his life were from a pre-military time.

True to his habits, he only sent a short reply on Boxing Day that said: "See you soon."

And she waited. She went back home the next day and sat in her lonely apartment watching historical dramas and eating chocolate until she felt sick, and he never came. She stayed there the day after, didn't leave the house even for the store. On the third day, she started to get anxious, on the fourth, rather angry. No one turned that extra key on the lock of her front door, and she felt like an idiot.

On New Year's Eve, she decided she would get the fuck out. She would not stay at home like a whimpering, lovesick puppy, waiting for its master to come home.

The long-distance relationship was getting on her nerves, and his occasional unavailability didn't feel exciting anymore. It was just vexing. Sometimes it felt like a paranoid exaggeration that he couldn't tell her when they would meet again. She didn't need much: just a fixed date would have sufficed. Her other life was stupidly on hold because she was always on high alert for him. This had been going on for months, and it was high time she did something else. Just for the shits and giggles. To hell with his soon.

So she went to see her friends and drank herself into an impressive stupor.

It wasn't her usual approach to dealing with anxiety and frustration and a yearning heart, and it didn't work as well as she had hoped. But at least she got out of that stupid flat and saw some people who actually had time for her. She had been invited to a party before the holidays with the knowledge that she would not attend – just like she never attended any student shenanigans and was rather curious as to why people kept inviting her.

But right now, an evening full of alcohol and uni people who had normal problems, problems she should've been thinking about too instead of her supersoldier, sounded better than binge-watching Outlander for the fifth day in a row.

And it was actually loads of fun. She decided right then and there, while having her fifth or sixth drink, that she should leave the house more often. Connect a little, get acquainted with new people who did normal shit. Even if they were a bit boring compared to a certain brooding giant who made love to her like she was a goddess.

She laughed so much that night that her stomach hurt, and a few boys from school were really after her at the party, quenching her need for validation and attention just a tiny bit. The whole crew went to see the fireworks to the city, and they all shared some bubbly in the frigid night, and even if she wanted Simon to somehow teleport himself behind her at the turn of the year, to grab her from behind and raise her in the air and whisper something naughty in her ear, the longing wasn't enough to rob all the fun from that night.

When she walked home, feeling a bit wobbly and more than a bit guilty for having flirted with not one but two guys, she reached for the pocket that held the push dagger Simon had given her. It received loving attention every time she walked to school or to the club, the excitement of doing something forbidden soon having turned to a feeling of security and a promise of prowess, all granted by Simon. It was almost like a comfort object, the way it instantly carried her thoughts to him.

Home felt dark and shabby and even more lonely after having a few good laughs with cheerful people her age, who studied the same subject and had big plans for the future. Her plans for the near future were another day alone, but this time, with a hideous hangover. That future felt so dreary that she didn't quite catch the familiar dark shoes in the hallway as she barged in and fought herself out of her heels all but suavely.

She went straight to the bathroom for a late-night shower, and the men's shower gel bottle – the one Simon had brought to her apartment because he didn't want to smell of "girl shampoo" – stared at her like a reminder of what she couldn't have. She then brushed her teeth and went to get a glass of water before crashing into bed.

Even in the dark, she could see a man sitting on her couch as she stepped into the living room that extended to an open kitchen.

She didn't panic this time. Her reaction was a simple, annoyed sigh upon seeing that he was yet again trying to gauge a reaction out of her.

"You really need to stop doing that."

She could see him tilt his head a little at her bitter tone. They had never fought, but right now, feeling emboldened by the booze, she had a feeling that an explosion was about to happen. Returning to a dark home filled with a dark man was such a contrast to the spirited, youthful gang she had spent her evening with that all the laughter left her for a moment.

How long had he even been here? It was nearly 3 AM. She had gone to the party as early as she deemed acceptable, wanting to get some fresh air and fresh vibes as soon as possible. If Simon had come to surprise her in the evening, he had had a long night.

"Where were you?"

The raspy voice was demanding, and she fought back a jolt of irritation just from hearing that dominant tone. It was just a simple question, but it felt like an interrogation.

And she wanted to scream.

Where were you?

How many times have I waited for you to bless me with your presence?

She had been away just this once, and he hadn't called, hadn't sent a text, had chosen to wait here for her to return from her all nighter, and then accused her of not being home.

"At a friend," she said.

"Which one?"

"Marc."

She heard him draw air upon hearing that she had been to some other guy's apartment.

"A new friend," he noted.

"He had a party," she explained, then tested her luck like an idiot. "It was fun. I made lots of new friends."

She turned to get that glass of water and noticed Simon had done her dishes while she was away. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, too. He had wanted to surprise her on New Year's Eve, probably hoped to spend another peaceful evening at home together.

A tiny needle pushed into her heart at the sight of the pink tulips. Simon didn't know it, but they were her favourite flowers. She wondered whether he had been to the club to see if she was there, only to come back when he noticed she wasn't up tonight. If he had sat on that couch as hours passed by, with dread sinking in from the thought that she might be out somewhere, cheating him with another guy. The needle inside her heart burst into flames.

"Where were you?" She whispered. He finally rose and walked to her, much in the same way he had done when she had been upset in this exact same spot when morning light had filled the room.

"Covering my tracks."

She already knew that "covering tracks" meant he took extra precautions before coming to see her, whether there was a real, heightened risk or not. Christmas time might be a heightened risk: those who wanted him harm would probably want to know where he spent his holidays. Who his loved ones were.

It meant that he was devoted to her, an actual sign of care and deep affection. Simon had just made sure he wouldn't set her in danger.

She could feel his warmth behind her, could smell him, and felt distress spike in her chest when he wouldn't proceed to touch her but just stood there. She turned to face him with a quivering lip and wasn't sure whether she was about to burst into tears or a manic giggle.

He was wearing a black hoodie this time, but it didn't quite manage to make him look any more youthful or boyish. But it was snug, almost cute. The size of it probably double or triple XL to accommodate those shoulders and that chest. That hoodie told her he had definitely planned to stay home, cuddling and making love while the tulips slowly opened their blossoms in that vase.

She knew he came here for her softness. He would never admit it, but he craved the softness of her bed, her couch, her body, even the food she made for him with love. He had just wanted to spend the evening filled with some color, laughter, and affection, certainly not go and watch exploding fireworks that would only remind him of war and death and darkness.

Suddenly she felt guilty about getting so worked up. She felt shame for her condition: she was still drunk, like a sailor, wearing nothing but flushed cheeks and a towel.

"Are you angry?" She searched for judgment in his eyes. He watched her sternly, didn't betray any emotion other than that of guardedness.

"Why would I be angry?" He said in a Should I be? kind of way.

"Because I'm drunk?"

She must smell of booze, of a whole pubful of drunkards. Not ladylike at all. He had heard the state in which she had barged in — she had even sung a dirty song in the shower.

She felt like a child compared to him, felt like every guy she had talked to at that party tonight was like a child compared to him. The shyness never quite left her, even if they had known each other for months now.

What if he was angry? Or disappointed?

Or worse yet, disgusted?

"You said you didn't like women who drink."

She certainly wasn't a drinker, even if this night had been a bit rowdy. But trying to explain to a man who disapproved of drinking that she wasn't an alcoholic while smelling of booze was somehow too funny in her sleepy, partied, lovelorn state.

She couldn't hold it in any longer, and a stupid little chortle pushed through her lips. This time, he raised a hand and took hold of her shoulder, as if to ensure she was okay.

"I never said that," he said gently. The brown of his eyes was blown dark, and she vaguely remembered that dilated pupils meant drugs or darkness or love.

"One of the guys wanted to walk me home," she blurted out of nowhere. The alcohol in her system had apparently decided it was quite alright to tease him a bit for taking so long. His head pulled back, a subtle indication that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Or actually, two. It was funny when they both came to give me my coat when I was leaving."

He was silent, the feeling of being reduced to a flustered child – or a drunken moron – in his presence only increasing by the minute. Either he was genuinely astounded by her behaviour, or then she was really pushing her luck with her drunken babble.

And fuck, she would never get over his eyes. Perfectly almond-shaped and so big that supermodels would kill for them. But it wasn't the warm, dark chocolate or the eternal exhaustion of hooded lids that made them so enticing. It was the look of having walked through hellfire… and having emerged undefeated, with scars and a sardonic, knowing smile. He was like Lucifer cast out from heaven, a fallen dark angel who had been thrown to Hell, who merely shrugged at his fate and then started to rule the whole goddamn place.

She opened the towel and let it drop to the floor, then took a step and wrapped her arms around his neck. He went rigid as she pressed her body flush against him, the amber eyes roaming her face while the rest of him was stiff. It was a new situation, her meeting his solemn stare with bold teasing while making it clear that she wanted him to rut her — on that counter if need be. Or better yet, she wanted to climb onto his lap and ride him, run her nails down his chest and sink them in, perhaps to the point of drawing blood.

It was usually he who ravished her…

"I've been a bad girl," she tried to imitate a seductive voice but it turned into another giggle.

Good God… She wished someone would come and put some duct tape on her mouth.

But then a hand was placed possessively on her hip, a thumb brushed over the side of her stomach. Those eyes were now looking at her much in the same way they always did when she was dancing for him. Hungry and dark. Proud… Pleased.

He had looked at her like that for months and months now. Like he owned her. In a stupefied recognition, she realized he had looked at her that way before they had even shared a word with each other.

He moved in a sharp flash, scooped her in his arms and started to walk toward the bedroom.

"Are you gonna punish me?" She whispered without even bothering to cover the heavy anticipation in her voice. He wouldn't say anything, but when they reached her bed, she was thrown on it. Gently and with care – but it was still more of a flung than setting down.

"It's not really a punishment if I enjoy it, right?" She laughed with excitement, all the remnants of her anger dissolving into a soft buzz that gave a nice edge to the upcoming retribution. "I guess the joke's on you."

He still wouldn't budge, still wouldn't speak…

"Are you sure you're not angry?"

She rose to lean on her elbows and watched him undress with a soldierly sharpness. Under the black hoodie was a black t-shirt — of course. But only now did she notice that he was wearing grey sweatpants. Fucking sweatpants.

Why did he have to be such a kissable, huggable cuddle muffin on this night of all nights? Those sweats were so far from the glitter and glamour she had surrounded herself this evening that she felt another burning sting beneath her sternum. The ample bulge against that soft, grey cotton was visible even in the darkness.

The muscles bunched as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. She would probably never tire of seeing those shoulders, not to talk of his divine forearms that were so different from the skinny little things she usually saw at school or even at the club she danced in. Even she had more muscle in her forearms due to pole dancing than some men – but Simon… God, he was an absolute specimen. And with that tattoo slapped on that bulky, veined muscle, she could verily fall on her knees and pray to this man.

Her earlier teasing felt stupid as hell. She wasn't interested in anyone else than him walking her home. That ship had long since sailed.

And how could anyone compare to him? Those boys she had talked to would shit themselves if they saw Simon, even without his gear. Would turn tail and run seeing him in those cozy sweats, even. She wanted to explain herself even if the cleverest thing would be to just shut up.

"Marc's just a friend from school. He was in this group project and then we started to talk about our plans for the New Year, and then I figured I should go to this party because I never go anywhere, you know, and -...mh."

His pants were off, all of them, and she could see his cock spring free, already hard, like he always was when she was lying down like this and he was about to descend upon her. The night swallowed most of him, but it wasn't enough to hide those forearms, that hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes – or that heavy, obscenely thick erection that was jutting from between his equally massive thighs. It was veined like his forearms, surrounded by the palest, faint hair, similar to the almost invisible ones that coated his chest and back here and there. Everything in him was heavy and thick, except that pale breath of hair…

Her mouth shot full of water, and rich heat pooled between her thighs, which instinctively clamped together as if knowing that this man was too big for her, even if evidence already proved otherwise. He always told her how tight she was, but she felt like it was more the cause of his size than any asset of hers.

"I thought it would be good to connect with people because you never know, right?" Her mouth kept yapping on while her eyes were glued to his massiveness. All of it.

He crawled to the bed between her legs, which opened by themselves for him as if this man was a whole VIP pass that granted access to the exclusive area of her.

"If you wanted to know where I am, you could've just called me. You never tell me where you are or when you come back. You know, "soon" could mean anything."

She expected him to insert himself to her opening, to push in with a full-blown ego because he must already know she was wet from just seeing him, the bastard. But instead, he dove face first to her folds while sweeping her thighs over his shoulders like they weighed nothing.

"But I get it, you need to–"

A pair of hot lips surrounded by a peak stubble hit her skin, and her head fell back with a moan. Her thighs drifted even further apart as his tongue traveled up her slit, parting the swollen lips with so much love that she knew he definitely wasn't angry with her.

Oh no.

She had only managed to amuse him again.

And of course she had. Her intoxicated state and desperate attempts to make him jealous must've told him that she was a bit of a mess because of him. He wasn't petty, even if he was possessive. It was crystal clear to everyone in this room that she had just tried to distract herself, and she was featherbrained if she thought she could fool him.

"I was mad at you," she confessed with a sigh. "I still am…"

She peeked a look down. The sight of a brawny, wide man on his knees between her legs made her more heady than all the punch she had had that night. The bulk of muscle on his back made her legs look sleek and slender and weak, the coarse stubble against her delicate, swollen folds made her head spin even when she was lying on her back. The faint scent of tobacco and his musk were like incense to her; she inhaled it like it was her only way to heaven, that haze of blazing masculinity, of fire and smoke that was thoroughly him enveloping her as she fell back on the mattress.

Her hand found his hair; it was cut shorter from the sides, but the top had generous amounts to grab hold of, and she curled her fingers there while pushing her cunt against him. She was tired of pretending that it didn't feel fucking best when he gave her head.

An exceptionally hungry kiss echoed through her body, making her spine arch and her legs slide up and down his back. How could it feel like he was kissing her instead of fucking her with his mouth? She had taken Simon as a man who didn't worship women like this, but like always, she had been wrong. Even the very thought of a commanding officer of some super special tactical unit having his face buried between her legs was enough to send her to the verge of orgasm. Not to talk of seeing and feeling him actually there.

She sighed as his hands drew her against his face by the thighs, then gasped as a firm, thick tongue – thick like the rest of him – thrust inside her.

"God… yes, just like that…"

If she was pulling his hair a little too hard, he didn't mind. Or at least he didn't say or do anything about it. At first, she had thought that perhaps he tried to make her shut her mouth this way. Speak with moans and sighs instead of words. But now she felt like she was his prisoner, about to make the confession of a lifetime.

"It drives me crazy, the waiting… I'm always waiting for you." It was a miserable sob, and she was arriving at the center, the numb, veiled core of this whole conundrum.

"You drive me crazy, Simon."

He let her monologue go on. If anything, he encouraged it with his tongue, with his lips that nibbed her swollen bud and sucked.

"You're so annoying." She felt him huff a brief chuckle against her, inside her even, as she was open and dripping and hurting, wholly at his mercy. "Like, no one comes even close. And, and, I…"

The darkness made it seem that she could spill any secret in such a lightless, safe cavity where there was suddenly no time, no past and no future to make her pay for what came out of her mouth next.

"...I love you."

But the laws of cause and effect still applied to this world, and Simon stopped, breathing into her pussy like a long-distance runner.

"What?"

His first words since forever hit her folds with a husky, tentative roughness. That voice was better than any dark rum or gooey chocolate cake or even a hot tub bubbling with maple sugar bath bomb. The heated knot in her stomach coiled and twisted, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"...Nothing."

He breathed into her tender folds, she could feel his lips draw into a smile. He kissed her right at the center, at the core of her, and she jerked a little, bit her lip, and waited.

"You sure?" The gruff, murky voice still talked to her pussy, like it was there where the confession of his prisoner was to be found.

"Yes..?"

A devastatingly languid lick stroked her folds, and the starved sigh was that of a happy, happy man. He had a winning hand, and he knew it.

"Are you absolutely positive?"

She swallowed, her lips trembled, and her heart rammed against her chest as her drunkard's brain thought of the terrible fate that awaited her if she yielded to him. What if they were still playing? She hated poker, especially when she was playing against Simon who always had a royal flush in his hand. She wanted to play together, not against each other.

"For fuck's sake, why do you always have to…" she started, then bit her lip again as he plunged his tongue inside, so deep that it made her chin shoot up toward the ceiling and her hips grind against his face.

"You always have to win," she sighed strenuously, on the brink of tears.

"Love you too," he rumbled against her, and her walls clenched around nothing, more moisture leaked to coat his chin.

"Wh-...What?"

He picked up where he had left, proceeding to kiss and lick and suck like it was just some small talk they had briefly shared while he was eating her out.

"Simon…"

"Shh."

She pursed her lips from happiness and allowed him to finish the job, which didn't take long in her state of bliss and drunken overstimulation. She came with a cry, leaked love in the air – leaked literally, on his lips.

He rose to sit after he was done, panting like it had been a while since he had tortured anyone like that.

"What took you so long?" She asked when he threw himself to lie on his back next to her.

"What took you so long?" He huffed, and she wasn't sure if they were talking about their mutual absence or the late confession. She turned to press against him, thrumming with love. He shifted too and took her in his arms, and her head was shoved against the plates of muscle that made his chest. He was still hard, and she wanted to take him in her mouth, to return the favor tenfold.

"You're so annoying," she chirped with a broad smile while crushed against the world's safest chest.

"Copy that."

"I love you."

His cock twitched between them when she said those words. It was his only reaction to her repeating that long-kept secret.

"You're drunk," he commented with sleepy, honeyed amusement.

"I'm drunk, and I love you."

He sighed and pulled her into an even heavier hug. "Come 'ere."

They cuddled sometimes, mostly after sex, but it was never this ardent. She ran a hand up and down his back while the other was squeezed somewhere between them. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and powerful underneath her cheek.

"Don't send me pictures of your family," he grumbled through half-sleep. "It's an unnecessary risk."

He had rigged her phone with schizophrenic detail so that their calls and messages couldn't be traced. He had even built a sort of a Faraday's cage out of a shoebox, wired mesh, aluminum foil and whatnot, where he put his phone when he came to her place. She didn't even know all the things he did to ensure no one knew about their relationship. Safety measures weren't doubled, they were tripled with Simon.

She gathered the photos she sent of herself were a weakness for him since he never forbade her from sending them. She didn't know if they got destroyed right after, though, or what kind of a headache it was for him to get rid of all the metadata.

"Whatever you say," she murmured while pressed flush against him. His erection wouldn't die, and in her opinion it was unfair, downright sinful, to leave him in such a state after he had given her so much love. She raised her leg and swept it up the side of his thigh until it came to rest on his hip so she could rub against him.

"You need to sleep," he said, but didn't stop her. He even allowed her some space to snake a hand between them to grab him and guide the tip to her folds, still soaked from his treatment. The notion that he prioritized her rest over his own pleasure only made her more wet. He responded with a shallow, hoarse exhale as she helped his cock against her slickness, coating it with moisture.

"You love me?" She was a lovesick puppy now, and he grunted at her neediness.

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"You only said it once."

"Once is enough."

She glided along his length with slick, moist sounds filling the darkness pulsating with love.

"No it's not."

"Insatiable woman," he muttered, slightly out of breath from what she was doing to him. And as if he had only now noticed that she was handling him and not the other way around, he switched their roles and rolled partially on top of her.

"Could you just say it?" She watched him with what must've looked like the most desperate, needy stare she had ever worn. He simply seized his cock and adjusted it to her entrance.

"Pretty please?" She whispered while he pushed in, only halfway, knowing she was more than ready to take him fully. She even grabbed his ass to force him, but he refused her.

He always had to win… Always.

"I love it when you beg."

The voice was harsh, rugged, but his eyes were soft, even softer than the double bed under her.

"I love your cunt," he continued, and a moan slipped from her as he teased her with a few shallow, unhurried thrusts. "Love the sounds you make when I fuck you hard."

"Mh-..."

"...or gentle. Fuck you real slow and deep. I know you like that."

He finally went completely in, finally gave her that sweet satisfaction that came from being filled. It felt so snug, so gratifying that it could only be compared to having a piece of your favourite cake after a shitty day or taking the first sip of coffee in the morning or easing into a hot jacuzzi when you were cold.

"I love it when you say you're a bad girl when you're the swee'est girl there is."

That one ended in a short, mocking laughter. As if she was absolutely shitty at trying to deceive him in anything.

He continued to tell her everything except the thing she wanted to hear. He told her he loved her bedhead, her cooking, the look of concentration when she was curled somewhere to read a book. He told her he loved her laugh, her sharp tongue, and how adorable she was when she was mad at him. The list went on and on, it even had the time when she had slapped him, on it. She was just about to plead again, beg for it if she must, when he finally relented.

"Yeah, sweetheart… I love you," he whispered in her neck with a burnt voice, burnt from tobacco or barking commands. "Should be bloody fuckin' obvious by now."

She dug her nails into his back, not worrying about the consequences, which were only delightful. The coarse stubble chafed her neck as he kissed and sucked her skin, surely leaving marks.

She was so wet for him that she was creaming around his shaft. Big as he was, he glided inside her with no effort at all, even when she felt herself tighten around him with another upcoming release. She was going to come a second time, a rarity, even with Simon.

He pressed her against the mattress with every thrust, the feeling of being crushed between the plush, soft bed and a bruisingly hard body absolutely glorious. Feeling weightless and completely open, she came while clinging to him, knowing it would send him on another ego trip for having worked her to a climax twice already.

The sound that left her, more like a helpless wail than a satisfied moan, meant she had lost all her chips in a bet against someone who had invented the whole game. Her cries painted the darkness as she throbbed and clenched around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"Now what did I say? Insatiable." His voice turned into a wined and dined tone when he was pleased, almost braggingly so, and she wanted to dig her nails in his back again and make him grunt instead. But that voice also caressed her, much like his hips that gently rocked her through the waves of the orgasm.

He came shortly after, through gritted teeth and a feral edge to his peak. Her neck was burning from all the love it was getting, but the last roll of his hips was almost lazy, and he collapsed on top of her, trapping her under a blazing hot chest. A palm slid along the dip and swell of her waist, caressed the side of her thigh, and pulled her leg to rest on his back while he remained buried deep inside her. He turned from a savage, heated man into an affectionate lover so quickly that she could only hang onto him as best she could.

His back had broken into a sweat, but when he eventually pulled out, he didn't roll to the side like he usually did. Instead, he shifted to lay his head on her chest, and clutched her in a sideways hug, slack against the bed and partly on her. The ragged breathing was interrupted by an uneasy swallow.

"Life was easy before you came along. Didn't have to worry about gettin' killed."

More confessions were spoken in the fading night, and she raised a hand to stroke his hair. The light had slightly changed, the wintry night was easing into a break of dawn while they were finally about to get some sleep.

"Guess I have to stay alive now."

Only Simon could make something like that sound romantic, but his tone was somber, as if he was letting an essential part of himself go when he chose life and her. She wondered if she had brought Simon back to life like he had brought her. It wasn't what they had planned for themselves, but here they were: spent and alive, meshed together at the dawn of a new year.

"You're spooking me to death as it is. I don't want to know how you would be like as an actual ghost." She tried to lighten the mood that was slipping into something darker, something she didn't wish to think about after a night like this. But Simon had chosen to make her cry.

"Would haunt you still."

She couldn't say anything from the bittersweet pain that spread through her heart. It was hard to breathe when a choked sigh clawed at her throat and tears threatened to cause a whole flood.

"Did you like the flowers I got you?"

…And just like that, he changed the subject. She blinked back tears and tightened her hold of him, so snugly settled there over her heart.

"I love tulips. Thank you," she whispered in the crown of his head.

"Hm."

He was already on the verge of slipping into sleep, like men used to after a good fuck, especially when already exhausted from work. Or from loneliness. She hugged him so tight she could feel the flare of his ribs as his breath slowly evened out. She caressed his hair, the back of his neck, stroked his back and felt him rumble softly against her.

"Not your pet..."

His last note was more of a weary sigh that turned into soft snoring as he fell asleep on her chest. She was not far behind, drifting off to sleep too while cradling him — precisely like a pet, or a child, her last thought being how oddly beautiful it was that he finally allowed her to hold him like this.

[actualbird]

hi zak!!! deliriously asking this at 5am, but don't you ever think about every time marius (and i guess that whole von hagen family in that sense) celebrates his own birthday is he reminded about his mother's death? like... the way you share birthday with your mother's death anniversary.... haha how does that go............

first of all, I HOPE U WENT TO SLEEP AFTER SENDING THIS MESSAGE!!!

second of all, AUUUUUUUUGGGGHH //wailing in agony

i have thought about it in passing and it hurts my heart....frankly i think marius, once hes old enough to understand what happened (and also old enough to be blamed for what happened) (which...wasnt very old at all, he was still a child) takes it hardest. of course, giann and austin grieve, but i like to think that because theyre older (and thus more mature and capable of compartmentalizing) that their grief for carenina is separate from their joy of having marius in their lives. it wasnt a "deal" or a "trade" in their minds and in their hearts.

for marius though, it is. he sees the beginning of his very existence inherently tied to the death of his mother. he sees his existence as a sick "trade" by the universe; lose someone you love and gain a child thats a burden and a reminder of who you lost. hes much harder on himself, and i think thats partly because he never got to meet his mother, so he didnt get to experience how excited she was for his birth, he didnt get to experience first hand how much he was loved by her even before he was born. giann and austin got to experience this, and, even with all the bumps in the road, they continue this love for marius. in a way, it's a form of remembrance too. but marius had it different. what he knew was once upon a time there was a perfect family, and then he came along, and grief loomed over them like a shadow theyll never be rid of. marius feels like he was a thief. marius feels like he stole life of his mother.

semi-related: i actually have an hc that marius' mother did not die during childbirth (and thus not on marius' birthday), because canon never confirmed that it was during. instead, canon just said that the strain of giving birth was too much for her deteriorating health, so it's not without the realm of possibility that carenina lived for a few months after childbirth before passing away.

why i have this hc is because:

1 ) i hc she was the one who gave the nickname "king". she'd whisper it to him delightedly, boop his little nose and tease him for being a pampered little baby, calling him "my little king" as she cared for him in her last days.

2 ) i just want carenina to have met marius, even if marius cant ever remember it. i just think it would be nice, and that it would be fitting. one of the last moments she had was cradling her beloved son in her arms, and she was at peace when she went

she was full of love and had no regrets. to her, this wasnt a "trade" either. this was her choice, and she was glad to have made that choice.

but of course, marius cant remember the experience, and he thinks otherwise. to him, being born was his first sin among many.

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

When asked, Manon would confess that pregnancy wasn't all that great, and she honestly can't understand how some people willingly put themselves through that kind of thing again and again.

The first few weeks were okay; she really didn't think too much of it, and from how things were going she believed it would be smooth sailing. Why were people complaining? Everything is seamless (she really thought she was built different)

A few weeks later, morning sickness began, and with it, Manon's earlier sentiments went out of the window. It was hard and downright brutal. She believes that calling it morning sickness is wrong because it was persistent all day and night long, for days and days and days. Really, it was endless. She was feeling sick most of the time; she wasn't eating and she was tired all the time. During that time there were regular hospital visits because she just kept throwing up and all that dehydration was not good neither does her nor the fetus growing inside of her.

A few weeks later it eased up a little but did not stop. She was still going to the hospital once every few days getting hydrated through an IV because really, her body is not dealing with this at all.

A while later when she was 4-5 months along, she began noticing some spotting. Dorian called the doctor and got them seen almost immediately. Things were okay, they’re baby is doing fine but from that moment on Manon was put on strict bed rest until her daughter was born.

At around the sixth-month mark, Manon was so over being pregnant. "Hate to break it to you, witchling, but you still have three more months to go," Dorian got kicked out of the room that night for his smart remark. But she called him back later on because she was lonely and by that point, she wasn't used to going to sleep without him being there.

It seems that all of her biology lessons in school have evaporated. And she was horrified at finding out some things she was certain she'd remember if she had actually studied them. She honestly didn’t think of what the difference is between giving birth and having a c-section in her mind she was just ‘a baby gets born’ without thinking how that would actually happen (Asterin was the unfortunate soul that discovered this and had to explain it)

'It's not too late to back out from this now, is it?' Asterin only rolled her eyes at her because yeah sure, by all means just stop being pregnant.

Newfound information aside, nothing actually prepared Manon for the grand finale: almost four days of (slow labor) and a little over 30 hours of active labor was all it took for her daughter to be born.

Manon, bless her soul, right in the middle of active labor, (literally her baby is only a few hours away from being born) realized one thing: she wasn’t her ready to become a mother.

The notion terrified her, and she seemed to realize it all of the sudden. She confidently thought that she can stop or try again later (???) but that wasn’t possible for obvious reasons. She wasn’t in pain (thanks to the epidural) but she was terrified. That is something she doesn’t know how to navigate and she was just panicking. She did end up having a panic attack and yeah imagine going through that while giving birth. (She really wasn’t having a good time)

Dorian was right next to her, his presence steadied her somewhat and after a WHILE she finally started listening to him and calmed down enough to focus on the main task.

Honestly the sudden cries kinda distracted her then she realized that her daughter is actually born and it took her a minute to fully realize that it’s all over.

Honestly, she'd rate the experience -10/10 even though her little baby girl is so worth it. She was born a little early (3-4 weeks, nothing too major) and she might have taken over 30 hours but she was out at last.

She won't do this again willingly though. Never.

Manon's both in awe and lowkey wonders of Aelin and Asterin are okay in the head. Her cousin went though this twice (willingly) and Aelin has like four children and Manon just cannot comprehend this.

[monowritestoomuch]

This is Going To Get Us Burned For Being Witches, Isn’t It?

Chapter 1: The World Turned Upside Down

Notes: *Tries to make it historically accurate* My google searches are absurd, guys. I don’t know how people in the 1700’s spoke, leave me alone please, I’m just a little guy! There were contradicting sources on what color Hamilton’s eyes were. I tried to find ppl from Hamilton’s actual life, friends from Kings College and such. 

I don’t know whether I want to change the year and have a different plot or something else. Because I have zero ideas on where to place Olympus. I am open to suggestions at any time though! Feel free to do so!

This week was hectic for me! And next week is going to be even more hectic for me! Expect a chapter in the next two weeks. Happy Yom Kippur!

So. . .you may be wondering how I got to camp in the first place? It’s not really–heroic? It’s not heroic, okay! I'm fourteen for gods’ sake! Leave me be!

I wasn’t born in New York, hell, I wasn’t born on the mainland. I wasn't really born at all, but I’ll explain that later. I was born in the year of seventeen-fifty-seven and raised in Charleston on a British owned Island called Nevis. 

According to my–to my mother, she had found me in her house, in a basket on her bed, with a note. She never–she never told me what the note said, but she took me in with no questions. She named me Alexander, because she knew I would be great. I was raised with a brother, James Jr., and my father. . .James Hamilton. We didn’t exactly–we didn’t get along.

I was raised alongside my brother. . .and with my father. For ten years. That was–until he left, something about bigamy, and–other stuff I’d rather not mention for at least a little while. 

When I was ten, my mother and I got sick, sick with yellow fever. I got sick first and I gave it to her. We would lay in that bed for hours on end, days on end. That’s when he left, too much of a bother to deal with us. With the limited medicine, it helped me, it helped her. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t–it wasn’t enough. I got better, but she didn’t. 

Within the next year, when I was eleven, she passed from yellow fever. 

We were sent to live with our cousin, Peter Lytton. My brother blamed me, he blamed me for months. While I was with my cousin, I worked. I needed to make myself into something, someone. I couldn’t die there, on that island. I couldn’t let my mother down.

A few months later, I was working as a clerk, and when I came home–he was hanging. I tried to get help, I ran until my lungs were sore and my head spun, screaming for help, but it was no use. Peter Lytton was dead. 

My brother looked at me with such remorse when he got back from his own job. He looked at me with blatant disgust. I won’t say it didn’t hurt. Even now, as I write this, I think he blamed me. 

Not long after that, he left. He left to go pursue an education.

I worked a whole year more at my clerk job, saving as much money as I could. Skipping meals, and working extra hours. It was grueling, but it was worth it.

Then the hurricane came when I was fourteen, and destroyed my home. I was devastated, but I was too stubborn to give in, to give up. I wrote an article on it, and got it published in the newspaper. I didn’t know it at the time, but it touched the hearts of the people of the island, so much so that they pooled money to send me to the mainland, to New York, to pursue an education. 

I didn’t know how much they cared, but cared, they did. They saw my writing, and they loved it. They wished for me to get an education. I would thank them all individually over and over if I could. 

Less than a week later, I was on a ship to the mainland, to New York. I was ready to pursue a new life, even though I was leaving everything behind. 

But I was naive, so very naive back then. 

I had landed in Boston and made my way to New York City. Boston was large, with protests in the streets and newspapers of scandal about and around. New York was smaller, albeit not quieter at all whatsoever, but a little less. . .mad? Unstable? Unhinged? Certainly, unhinged summarized Boston. 

New York City had pubs and lodges all around, with brick and dirt roads. It was the place to be. I was in awe. . .when I bumped into a fellow running from the opposite direction, who ended up falling far backwards on his hind. 

“Dear me, good sir, are you alright?!” I asked, rushing forward, and holding out a hand to help him up. The man firmly grabbed my hand, standing up and letting go of my hand to brush himself off. 

He wore a tan waistcoat over a white collared shirt, with larger sleeves and darker brown breeches. He wore a dark tan coat that went down to the backs of his thighs, with narrow, buttoned wrists. An ivory cravat was fastened around his neck, with stocking’s underneath his breeches. He wiped off his square-toed buckle-fastened shoes off the bricks, a warm brown tricorn hat lying upon his head. His brown hair was fastened with a ribbon into a low ponytail. His warm brown eyes contrasting to his pale skin.

“I’m–I’m alright,” the man reassured, meeting my own bright blue gaze. “Robert Troup,” he introduced, holding out his hand to shake. “But most simply call me Robert or Dick.”

I held out my hand to his and shook it firmly. “Alexander Hamilton,” I paused. I hadn’t really had many interactions with people my age, which is what the man seemed to be. “–but you may call me Alex,” I finished, smiling in a nervously warm manner. 

The man’s expression changed, eyes widening when I mentioned my name, which was strange, but I elected to ignore it in favor of shaking his hand. He seemed like an alright fellow, and perhaps he would be my first friend. 

That, ladies and gentlemen, is called naivety. This will be understood once you read far later into this book, which I might add, is most likely very long. But I wouldn’t know yet, I’m only on page four. 

But regardless, the fellow was nervous, but firm and standing tall. “New to the area?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How could you tell?” 

“You’ve got a spark in your eye,” he responded, scratching the back of his neck. “Like you hold the world’s hopes in your eyes.”

“I was always told the eyes were the windows to the soul,” I attempted to joke, catching a small chuckling smile from Robert. 

“Still trying to find a place to stay?” he asked me. 

“I am–I don’t even know where to begin to look for work or lodging–” I admitted, grinning sheepishly.

“You can come stay with me–and with my family, in Long Island,” he interrupted, a nervous smile on his face. 

I couldn’t notice at the time, but he was clearly trying to get me to ignore another part of the story he was telling. 

“Would I be so grateful as to take the company of your family and yourself?” I repeated rapidly. “I would be overjoyed!”

“Wonderful!” Robert exclaimed, adjusting his coat. “I rode a wagon here, for some business related to my father, as his emissary. I am heading home tomorrow, if you would care to join me?” he asked. 

His words were smooth and calculated, but nervous. 

“Then we better make haste,” I responded, smiling cheekily. 

The next day wasn’t much different to the day prior, much travel and much more conversing though. 

Robert was an interesting man, although he was my age, he was working for his father’s business. He was born in Elizabethtown, New Jersey, but moved up to New York for his father’s business as a child. He had been studying finance and law for many years alongside his brothers.

He asked howI spent my childhood. I told him how I wrote essays after the hurricane, studied finance, law, French and other such subjects. I told him of how intrigued I was in the sights of knowledge, which gave him a puzzled expression for a single moment. 

I didn’t tell him of my mother. He needn't learn of her demise. 

We had reached Long Island by nightfall, and Robert had mentioned a farm hostel close enough to us that we could lay there to rest for the night. In the past few hours of the afternoon, he had been antsy and anxious, no matter how much he attempted to dissuade the feelings or hide it entirely. 

He kept his eyes on the road, checking behind him every so often, like he felt eyes over his shoulders. 

We were conversing over a minor topic, a topic I can’t even recall now, over the roar of something utterly terrifying.

Fear lined Robert’s moonlit features, his eyes fearful as he hurried the wagon along at a faster pace. I wanted to ask what was going on, but it was clear that Robert didn’t wish to speak at the moment.

Then he brought the wagon to an abrupt stop, pulling at the horse’s reins to stop it, grabbing his bag and my own, yanking me out of the front of the wagon. 

“Run to the barn,” he told me, pushing my bag into my chest. “The–the people there will help you. I’ll try and hold it off–”

“Hold what off?” I asked, my heart racing, bag clutched against my chest. 

He pushed me forward, in the direction of the old, wooden barn. “Just. Run.” He stressed, pulling out a shotgun from the back of the wagon and cocking it. 

His tone didn’t leave any chance for disagreement, so I bolted in the direction of the barn, as fast as my legs, and lungs could take me. That was until I heard the roar again, and the sounds of gunshots, and screams.

I wrestled with the thought of going back, as I was so close to the barn. I could follow Robert’s instructions and go to the barn, or I could run back and help. Another roar, scream, and gunshot later, I had made my decision.

The roars were louder as I approached, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There was a bull-man. You read that correctly. Bull-man. It had the head of a bull, but the furry body of a man, with no pants on. A monster, truly. A monster with no decency, and Robert seemed to be fighting it.

I had to blink a few times to attempt to see what Robert was doing. He didn’t look quite human either. 

I felt as if I was hallucinating. He had hooves for feet.

He was holding a falchion sword in one hand, a shotgun strapped to his back, a gunpowder scent exuding from it.

He lunged at the beast, twisting and turning to avoid its giant, furry hands. 

I ran to the wagon, not far from where the fight was taking place. I rummaged through the bags, trying to find something to fight with. I found a sword, similar to the one that Robert held. I clutched it, before running back into the fray of the fight. 

I ran up behind the beast, Robert trying to fight it from the front and avoid its thrashing blows. It was a split second until he had noticed me, but a moment too late to caution me to halt in my actions. 

I jumped as high as I could, stabbing the beast in the upper back, before being smacked by a giant, furry hand and being knocked several dozen feet in one direction, bashing into the bottom of a tree. 

My back ached and my head spun, but the beast was turning to dust in my dwindling vision. I heard Robert’s distant cries and pleas for help, before I succumbed to the darkness of sullied sleep.

Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1

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[isleofdarkness]

So intrigued by Ivy's mother

She's Nahua (specifically Mexica.) Her parents had originally moved to America after WW1, during the Roaring Twenties, and they lived a decent life until Black Tuesday (the crash that led to the Great Depression.) Tlalli Iyollo was born only a few months after the crash. Her family was lucky enough, all things considered. Her father had saved up enough money outside of the banks to hold them over until he managed to buy a really nice house seized by the bank at the outskirts of Brooklyn, where they lived. He managed to keep them afloat by renting the home's many rooms to people who would otherwise be homeless. His wife helped by teaching children in nearby Hoovervilles (she'd been a teacher before the crash but lost her job because she was Mexican,) which bought in some money but also helped maintain the house, because some people would repay her teaching their children by offering favours and a lot of those people were skilled workers and tradesmen.

Tlalli babysat and tutored starting at around ten, employed by the people in the neighbourhood who hadn't lost everything in the crash, and she continued to do so until she was sixteen. Her mother and father both found work with FDR's Works Progress Administration and continued renting rooms. The house became a kind of halfway point as families worked their way back on their feet- they would pay Depression-rate rent and save up the money from their new source of income until that income could get them a place to live. Tlalli got a job at the house of one of their neighbours, who was an older woman who just needed help keeping up with keeping her house clean, chores done, and maintenance of the home after her husband's death, and she made some pretty good money doing this. Once she was eighteen she got into nursing, and she used her previous education experience and childcare experience to become a nurse who sees specifically to children, both entertaining them and helping tutor them so they didn't fall behind in their studies. Her night job was using her nursing, teaching, and childcare skills to babysit an autistic boy in the neighbourhood while his mother worked and his father slept. He usually slept all night, so she could usually get some sleep there, as long as she woke up in case he needed her.

When she was nineteen, she met Cecil de Vil. He wanted to hire the autistic boy she was babysitting for some kind of commercial, and she would go along with him to filming so that his parents could work. He very quickly learned that she was not going to deal with his bullshit in trying to mistreat the kid she looked after, and he found her interesting. Annoying, but interesting. When he got word that Malevola's previous caretaker had quit, sick of Malevola's attitude, he decided to see if he could get in the old woman's graces by hiring her a new one who seemed very good at her job. He offered the job to Tlalli, knowing that her father was sick and her family needed money, to come to Britain and work for Malevola at four times her current wage.

It wasn't an offer she could refuse. It wasn't like they were in danger of being homeless, but her father would die without treatment and treatment for the consumption and the damage it caused was extremely expensive. They needed that money. So she reluctantly took the job and he got her British citizenship so she could work there.

Her name was forcibly legally changed to Ainslee on this citizenship document. Gods she hates that name now.

She put up with everything they put her through for a few months, until Cecil decided to start getting more out of her. He'd demand extra work and remind her that her family needed the money, holding that over her head. I don't think I need to spell out how that started progressing.

Diego arrived in the family first, son of some estranged de Vil sibling she never got the name of, and she took care of him while pregnant with Ivy. When Ivy was born, she gave both babies names from her native language, secret names that were her little rebellion against Cecil. Malevola turned out to love the babies, which solidified Tlalli's job and finally gave her some security. It gave her room to start putting her foot down with Cecil, and he didn't like that.

So, he talked to Cruella about it. He wound her up, knowing what could happen once he set her loose on the people he wanted gone.

Tlalli's parents were dead within the month. She no longer had an escape route.

Everything just got worse from there, but gods, this post is so long

[heavyhitterheaux]

For The Night Part 3

AN: Maybe just maybe things will get better

Synopsis: Jack comes to a realization about your pregnancy and wants to do everything he can to make it up to you before it's too late

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1 and Part 2 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“I am so sick and tired of your shit, I swear. It’s the same thing day in and day out. If I had known you were going to act like this, I wouldn’t have even bothered to tell you I was pregnant in the first place.”

“And I’m sick of us arguing every time we see each other. You are always jumping down my throat about something.”

“Because you aren’t doing a got damn thing that I ask for you to do. Is it that hard to help me build the crib? Is it that hard to take me to an appointment? Is it that hard to help me do the registry for the baby shower?”

“I have taken you to your appointments.”

“Jackman, you took me to one. And that was when it first happened so you can stop. I don’t even know why I came over here because I knew how this shit was going to go. The last thing I need is to be stressed out but you’re doing a …. OH!”

Jack then got a startled look on his face while looking you up and down to see if you were okay.

He was low key panicking from your outburst. 

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, she just kicked.” You said while waving your hand to brush him off. 

“Oh, um does it hurt?”

“No, just caught me off guard, that’s all. She likes to play soccer in there. Do you want to feel her?”

Jack was hesitant, but slowly nodded his head. You grabbed his right hand to place it on your stomach where her feet just were anticipating her to kick.

It took a few seconds, but when she finally did, Jack was amazed.

“Does she do this often?”

“Some days more than others. She does it a lot when I’m around you or she hears your voice.” You simply shrugged. 

Jack then felt two more kicks to his hand.

“You never told me before.”

“Because we were too busy arguing, remember? Anyway, I have things to do so I’m leaving.”

“Do you want me to take you?”

“No, Jess is downstairs waiting for me. The one person that I can actually depend on.”

“Umm, okay. Just uh make sure you text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.” 

Now it was your turn to look startled.

He hasn’t said anything along those lines since before you got pregnant.

“I’ll be fine. See you whenever and at this rate, it might be in the delivery room after she’s born.”

You slipped on your light jacket and without another word made your way downstairs to Jessica.

Once you had left, Jack sat down on his couch for a second taking everything in.

He felt her kick

He felt HIS daughter kick

She was literally half of him and half of you

He then hopped up off the couch and proceeded to make his way into his bedroom over to his tall dresser.

He was throwing clothes out of each drawer left and right until he could find it

“Shit, shit, shit. Where is it?!? I know it’s in here.”

He knew that it was around here somewhere and that he didn’t throw it away, no matter how much he was scared shitless when he had first found out.

It wasn’t until Jack emptied out the bottom drawer and found it.

The sonogram picture of his daughter. 

All Jack did was simply stare at it.

This little girl was depending on him,

And so was her mother.

The mother that he has treated like absolute shit over the past few months.

Just because he was scared about now being responsible for another human being, she had to be scared too.

They went from talking every day to simply arguing every time they saw each other.

And he knew it was all because he was being an ass and running away from his responsibilities.

They didn’t deserve that and you definitely didn’t deserve how he had been brushing you off for the entire pregnancy.

You had about three more months until she got here and Jack made it up in his mind to do his absolute best in order to make it up to you for how he had been acting, both of you.

It was three days later when your phone went off alerting that Jack was calling you and you immediately rolled your eyes.

You never thought in a million years that that would be your reaction to seeing him calling you, but here you were.

“Yes, Jackman?”

“I can’t believe I did this, I just…. I have to do better.”

“Jack?”

“I know you probably hate me and I would hate me too. I left you high and dry and I know you were scared shitless, but so was I.”

“Jack?”

From that point it sounded as if he began sniffling and if you had only been confused before, now you were both worried and confused.

“Are you? Are you crying?”

“I….”

“Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

You had no idea what the hell was going on with him but because you still cared about him of course you were going to go over to his condo and see if he was okay.

You drove a little faster than you should have in order to get there, and raced to the elevator in order to get to the top floor.

You knocked on the door and were met with a red faced, puffy eyed Jack who was holding a teddy bear along with a milkshake.

“What is going on?” You asked and he simply moved to the side so that you could get past him. 

You went and sat on the couch, while Jack was pacing in front of you while tightly holding onto the bear and cup. 

“Jack? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” You curiously asked because at this point, you were trying not to freak out. 

He might have been getting on your last nerve lately, but at the end of the day you did still care about him and his well-being. 

“I just… I need to apologize to you and our daughter for how I’ve been acting. I’ve always wanted to be a father but I just thought that the circumstances would be different. I definitely thought I would have kids with you though, even though I don’t think I ever told you that. I care about you so much and I didn’t show it these past few months, but please know that you are important to me, both of you. I just…. I need to be better and from this point forward, I’m all in. Whatever you need, I’m here. Umm, do we have enough clothes for her? Should we breastfeed her or bottle feed her? I think I read last night that breast feeding was the better option. I’ll hire a personal lactation consultant just in case she has problems latching on. I could probably go and order more diapers because you can never have enough of those. Wait, does she have enough toys? Oh shit, how are you going to finish school? Online classes are an option and I can watch her while you’re doing your work.”

Every single time you tried to get his attention or answer one of his questions, it wasn’t working so you opted to yell at him even though you didn’t want to. 

“JACKMAN!”

“Oh, yes?”

“Just breathe and sit for a minute.”

Jack listened to your directions and sat down next to you while still holding the bear and milkshake.

“Umm, are those for me?” You curiously asked while looking at them.

“Yes, I forgot I was holding them. It’s your favorite flavor, cookies and cream. Oh, that doesn’t make you nauseous at all, does it? I know how sometimes when people get pregnant, they can’t eat their favorite things because they can’t stomach it.”

“JACK!”

“Sorry, I’m just….”

“First off, thank you for the bear and the milkshake. I can drink it, I just have to do it slowly and what in the world brought all this on?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Obviously.”

“When I felt her kick the other day.”

“Oh.”

“Right after you left, I tore up my room looking for the sonogram picture you gave me and I’ve been walking around with it since. I have not been there for either of you and I can understand if you hate me.”

“I could never hate you, stop being dramatic. You called me a crying, snotting mess and I still came over here, didn’t I?”

Jack simply nodded.

“I know it’ll take time for you to forgive me, but I wanted to tell you that I bought a lot of things for her and you too. I got a lot of pregnancy books to read too. I know it’s late in the game but….”

“I see you’re trying, so it’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay. I tell you how much you mean to me but I do the complete opposite and treat you like shit and push you away when all I had to do was be honest with you and tell you how scared I was about this.”

“Jack…”

“I know it’ll take you a while to forgive me like I said, but it’ll probably take me even longer to forgive myself. I can’t even imagine how you were feeling and what you were thinking.”

“It was definitely hard and I felt like I had lost you and lost you for good. A lot of times you and Jess would be the first people that I told when certain things happened and I couldn’t do that with you anymore because I was scared that it would turn into an argument.”

“I never want to put you in a position like that again and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, please know that you can come to me about it.”

You simply nodded your head while Jack held on tightly to your hand. 

“And I’ve been working on her room ever since, do you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

You simply set down the milkshake and your bear before following Jack upstairs to the second floor and stopped outside of a closed door that was in very close proximity to his. 

“I just… I hope you like it.”

Jack opened the door and let you walk in first and your jaw was on the floor. 

You were quiet for a few minutes taking it all in and Jack was becoming nervous.

“Is it okay? I can change it if you want.”

“This is…. You did this all by yourself?” You turned around to ask him and he simply nodded.

“I uh… haven’t slept in like three days so I could get it done to show you.”

“Jack, you need to sleep, that is not good.”

“I know, I just wanted to do this for you and for her.”

Her room was a soft baby pink with an elephant theme. Her dresser and changing table were white and light gray. Her toys were in the corner next to the window along with her night light.

Jack really outdid himself. 

“I left the space over the crib empty so I could put her name there when we decided what it was. And I know you love elephants so I thought the theme made sense.”

“We have time to do that. But… thank you.”

“No need to thank me, just doing what I’m supposed to do. Umm do you need me to do anything for you right now?”

You simply shook your head no before you quickly changed your mind.

“Actually, yes.”

“What is it?”

“I need for you to go to sleep.”

“But…”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you wake up but Jack you really need to sleep. We won’t be getting a lot of it once she gets here.”

“Okay, you’re right.”

“And have you eaten today or you’ve just been a crying mess?”

“Umm…”

“That’s it. Go to sleep now. I’ll make us dinner when you wake up.”

—

“Stink! Look at this one! Do you like it?” Jack held up a yellow onesie for you to look at that said Daddy’s Little Superstar.

You had been told to not lift a finger for the rest of your pregnancy by Jack and from that day that he apologized to you, he had kept his word. 

Didn’t miss a doctor’s appointment, made sure you ate well and got exercise, read pregnancy books, and spent quality time with you.

Even though Jessica still wanted to kill him because of how he acted before, she was somewhat happy that he decided to step up and take care of his responsibilities. 

“It’s cute, I like it. But Jack, does she really need more clothes? We had to buy two more dressers to fit her things in.”

“I mean I think I’m done.”

“That’s what you said last week and you went and got her ten pairs of baby New Balances. Jack, she can’t walk yet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared!”

You held up your hands in defense as you turned back to the television.

“What did you want to do for dinner today?” Jack asked while coming to sit down next to you and rubbing your stomach.

“Hi, cutie pie. Are you being good in there for your momma?”

The response he got was several kicks and you immediately groaned.

“She loves you so much already, but my insides have to be bruised at this point. Yesterday, I played Young Harleezy and she just about lost her shit. Like yes girl that’s your daddy, but got damn.”

“I can’t wait until she’s here and we can hold her.”

This had been the norm as of lately, you were spending time with each other every day, and nine times out of ten that was at Jack’s condo. He would always take you home every night when it started to get late. He was slowly trying to repair his relationship with you and was going to go at your pace. 

“I want chick-fil-a.” You answered while thinking about the half and half that you loved so much.

“A salad?”

“Jack, I will bite you. Get me my usual and no one gets hurt.”

“Babe, that’s greasy.”

“I can have it for one day! It’s not going to hurt. Besides, she wants it.”

“Okay, I’ll get it. I’ll order it around 6 so it will be here by 7.”

As you were finishing your milkshake, you noticed that Jack was staring at you from the corner of your eye.

“What you creep?” You asked while turning fully to look at him.

“I just…. I want to ask you something.”

“Sure, I’m listening.”

“I just… I want the two of you to be close to me. I know we’re still repairing our relationship and everything and I know your condo isn’t far, but….. Would you be willing to move in with me?”

Taglist:

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[snowball-doie]

how do the dynamics change whenever jooha is born?

honestly haven't thought that far cuz timeline wise... like irl. bro is just a thought lmao- cuz jae doesn't enlist for another few weeks---- that being said. for you guys, i'll put my brain to work tehee:

after jooha is born, taeyong comes back from the military (jooha is born august '25), so while he missed out on a lot with reyna, he's not missing a thing with jooha. yeah, he's a girl dad, but he'll spoil both of them equally, and he'll be there to change almost every diaper, he'll wake up in the night when jooha's crying, he'll sing jooha lullabies while he's teething and in pain, etc. everything he didnt get to do with reyna, he's doing with jooha.

johnny is still the hands-on suburban dad we all know and love. because of laws and whatnot, johnny's legally jooha's dad, but as we've covered many times, it's known in the polycule and amongst friends that jae is his bio dad. still, johnny's head of the house, and esp while jae and dy are gone, he's picking up all the slack, going even more above and beyond-- ESPECIALLY in those early months when THREE boys are gone (ty, jae, and dy)..... but not much about johnny or his dynamic with the boys / ahri / reyna changes. he's still the same johnny they love.

yuta doesn't know what to do with a son at first. he's spent the better part of nearly 2 hours pampering reyna, and now jooha's there and hes like "ok when can i take him to his first rock concert" LIKE ALRIGHT BUD CALM DOWN-- i hate to say it........ but reyna is yuta's favorite. NO ONE TELL JOOHA!! that's his little girl, and she's always been his little rockstar that he can doll up and spoil and take with him to go home. a son is nice, really nice. and he loves jooha with his whole heart. but there's something special to him about the time he gets to spend with reyna. (i think this stems from me not imagining jooha wanting to be an idol. i think he'd grow up to not care about the industry- unlike his older sister who's always going to shows, listening to their dads' music, going to the office with them, learning to dance and sing, etc. jooha's the type to have his nose buried in a book and like to spend his time chasing fireflies around the backyard with mark in the summertime).

it's hard for dy to enlist when the time comes. knowing that he's not going to be there for the last few months of ahri's pregnancy and he can't be there for the better part of jooha's first year of life hurts his soul. idk how many of you are familiar with the concept of "dol" in korean culture- but tldr back in the day, bc of all kind of complications, it was hard for babies to make it past their first year of life, so on their first bday, they celebrate dol to be like "congrats, you lived!". dy got to experience that first year with reyna like the worried mother hen he is. a son is so, so, so important to him.... wdym he can't be there for that first year? he's supposed to clean everything in the house from top to bottom before ahri gets home from the hospital, he's supposed to clean up the baby puke in the high chairs or throw away all the dirty diapers that jungwoo doesnt want to be within 10 feet of. he's supposed to cater to all of jooha's needs and wants every second of every day...... but the reality is that he can't be there? it makes doyoung sick to think about it. he hates having to leave ahri and jooha after he's born. he hates having to spend every day in the military like he doesnt miss his family every waking moment. so the second he's discharged and can rush to the house, you best believe he's spoiling his son like there's no tomorrow~~ (he's the reason jooha loves to read and has a curiosity for the world and not for being an idol btw)

jaehyun loves his son more than life. ok, go read my dad!jae smut, you'll know that he was dreaming of having a son even before he and ahri got to fuckin lmao. being away sucks, yes, but like he promised ahri, he's going to get every update imaginable from the boys, and he's visiting every chance he gets. idk how and why, but that man does NAWT pass his humor genes on to jooha. he'll pull out the craziest dad joke out of his ass and jooha will be so confused omfg. "i broke my son" "no, he's got all his wires right, you're the broken one" ... jaehyun tries to spend all the time in the world that he has to offer with jooha. he does what he did with reyna, taking him to the office, getting him involved in his dads' work, but jooha tends to just be more curious about the timetables on the doors for who's using which studios on each day, and he's picky about how the choreographers make the boys rehearse-- if they miss a beat, he gets tilted. but he loves sitting in the recording studio, reading a book while using his dads' work as background noise. jaehyun feels proud of how smart his son is, and supports him no matter his decision-- in fact, i think the majority of the boys are actually kind of relieved when they realize jooha doesn't want to be an idol like them. ever since he's a baby, he's been the most bubbly kid who has such an amazing, contagious laugh... they would hate to see that torn away from him by some company. so jaehyun gives jooha everything he wants. more books? a fucking microscope for his birthday? a telescope? yes, anything and everything. and he'll record videos and videos and videos of jooha and mark catching fireflies together. he's a really good dad.

jungwoo. girl dad jungwoo. oblivious, dorky girl dad jungwoo. the second there's another boy in the house he's like "hes one of us....." LIKE NO SHIT SHERLOCK omfg. jungwoo had a tough time becoming a father figure to reyna at first cuz he didn't know what to do as a parent or how to raise a girl, but this is their second kid so the late nights and amount of shit, piss, and puke is normal to him now-- that said, he will never be caught changing a diaper, but at least he doesnt feel like throwing up anymore lmao. jooha laughs at jungwoo's dad. jaehyun doesn't understand how he's any different, but okay. there seems to be a natural closeness between jooha and jungwoo that no one else can come close to replicating or understanding, even when jooha's still so little that he's wrapped up in blankets while being cradled in jungwoo's arms all day. reyna used to fall asleep instantly in jae's arms while everyone else struggled with her a bit; this time around, with jooha, jungwoo has the magic touch, and he feels incredibly honored. honestly, it brings him and doyoung closer together. because by the time he's having to enlist, doyoung is coming back, and jungwoo can rest easy knowing that dy is there taking care of jooha, sending jungwoo pics in the middle of the night, or sending videos of jooha's first steps or first words. jungwoo's the only one of the boys who can get away with play-fighting with jooha- cuz again, he's the only one who has the kind of humor jooha fuck w. when jooha starts to get older and can be chased around the playset in the backyard, or when he comes home and says that he has a crush on a girl in his elementary school, jungwoo's got all the dad jokes on lockdown to make jooha laugh and enjoy his childhood. without jungwoo, i think jooha wouldve grown up to be TOO serious. it's okay that he's studious and has different intentions for his life than reyna does-- but sometimes he just needs a good laugh with his silly dad. (jungwoo is jooha's fav dad-- NO ONE TELL THE OTHER BOYS)

mark's like "thank god he didn't turn out like reyna" bahahahahaahah- mark grew up like jooha did, having his eye on studies rather than fun like his older brother. there are times when mark regrets his path (very few times) and wonders what his life could've been like if he hadn't become an idol.... he'll never know what he would've been like, but he looks at jooha and knows that everything's going to be okay. mark encourages jooha's curiosity with a hands on approach rather than spoiling him with toys and gadgets. chasing fireflies, going to museums, going to the park to dig up worms, sketching flowers at the botanical gardens, and so on. jooha gets his sense of poetry and love for life from mark. the beauty that reflects in jooha's eyes when he's learning something new for the first time always makes mark smile. by the time jooha's born, mark's not so concerned about the polycule or raising a kid anymore. he's content with the life he's built, and he feels secure through and through. so while there were a lot of hesitancies around holding baby reyna or not knowing how to raise her, mark has the whole thing down to a science by the time jooha comes around. whenever jungwoo isn't holding him, mark is. and it blows the boys and ahri away how often mark asks to feed jooha or hold up his little hands while he's just starting to learn how to walk. i think all along, in the back of his mind, mark was waiting for a son for life to make complete sense to him. (im not religious and me personally i dont like to get too biblical, but this is mark we're talking about. so for the sake of plot: he truly believes that god sent him jooha so that he can be the happiest, most care-free person in the world)

haechan side eyes baby jooha a lot. he knows the way of the world-- baby girls get spoiled, and boys are raised to be men. (please refer to this clip) so while jooha's still iddy biddy, hyuck gets cuteness aggression galore, but as jooha starts to get older, he's teaching jooha all there is to know about life. just life. every day, normal, mundane things; unlike jae who takes jooha to see idol things, or mark who encourages jooha's curiosities. hyuck shows jooha how to be a descent human being who has a lot of kindness in his heart and a good head on his shoulders. the boys def think haechan could be a bit. .... more playful...... afterall, that's his nature with everyone he knows, including reyna, so why not jooha? but have you seen hyuck? when he's serious about something, and when he's trying to be a leader, he's locked in. that's how he is with jooha. he loves his son so much that he wants to make sure jooha becomes a good man and not some shmuck.

[siriuscockblockblack]

Regulus was a weak baby when he was born, and was lucky to have survived his first few months let alone years. However, growing up Regulus got sick easily, and often it was Sirius who took care of him.

Not his mother, not his father, not the elf, but Sirius.

She would stay up late at night reading books from the black library about illnesses and medicines for her little brother. She would cut herself and practice healing scrapes and bruises for him. She would brew potions far too complicated for anyone her age for him.

Eventually, her skills came in handy when Remus’s furry little problem was revealed. She helped heal his injuries and hung out in the infirmary sometimes to watch Madam Pomfrey heal other students.

At first, Madam Pomfrey thought he was there to create mischief, but soon realised how knowledgeable and passionate he was for healing. She grew a soft spot for him and taught him all she knew.

Originally, Sirius wanted to become an auror with James and but she changed her mind and was really nervous about telling him, but in the end James just laughed it off and was happy for Sirius because he is a good fucking friend.

Sirius snagged an internship at St. Mungo’s in her seventh year, and after graduating she got a job there as an apprentice.

Just, Healer Sirius.

(Really, I have been obsessed with this hc since I first came up with it and I could go on for days on the multitude of AU’s I have come up with but I should probably go to sleep now.)

[echantedtoon]

In The Moon's Shadow (Yandere Kokushibo x Reader) Ch12 A Journey Begins With A Step

(Warnings: Y/n almost freezes to death, mentioning of blood.

EDIT:  a VERY important edit to this for clarification!! Y/n will NOT have any romantic relationships with Tokito or his wife. They only become very close friends. 

Also..A very interesting fact. Michikatsu's wife never had an official name but a lot of the fandom refer to her as Haruhime..Guess who's last name is also Haruhime. Also warning for a short chapter.)

Cold.

The night was so cold and unforgiving. With leaves up to half her legs, and the cold air seeping into her skin despite the extra layers and thick rabbit fur coat she had over her shoulders. It sent a shiver down the woman's spine and sent shockwaves coursing throughout her body. Hands rubbed against themselves and were blown on by warm breath in huffs from her mouth between chatters of teeth before being shoved back under her arms in an attempt to keep warmer.

Tears were not helping.

Rolling down her cheeks and stinging the skin when the cold air rolled over it as if some kind of cruel kiss. Eventually dropping onto the coat. How long has it been now? Four maybe five hours of walking westward? Seemed about right. The moon was still high in the sky and luckily it was bright enough to light her way. She was even more grateful that it hadn't snowed yet. Leaving behind trackable footprints would only put everything in jeopardy and she couldn't have that. The night was still young with a good few hours still until dawn. And the first day of traveling was the most important one. It was the day she had to get the most distance between her and her old life.

Which was easier said than done.

She had thought of many things to cover her tracks. Faking illness to 'stay home and rest up.' Also if everyone thought she was sick with the stomach flu, they'd stay away so that'd buy her some time before anyone got worried and came to check on her. She had made sure to leave in the dead of night to avoid anyone spotting her fleeing. She had closed the shutters on her windows and left her fire going. That would make it seem like she was home and no one would know because the windows were blocked. By the time someone did notice, she would've already been long gone and no one would know where she was.

Would it make her look suspicious to everyone else that she disappeared after Sabo and Nori were found dead? Yes. Most likely. But she couldn't risk staying there and having someone just putting the missing pieces together. Her life would be endangered. It was already in danger, but she'd been incredibly lucky that no one had put anything together but that could change. Someone could put it together right now as they slept. Or tomorrow. Or this week. Or next week! Hell! Someone could have figured it out right now! Someone could be storming her house for just right this very moment and her wouldn't know because she had made the choice to leave before anyone could. 

Even IF no one ever found out, it was still better for everyone if she left. For...

A hand mindlessly placed itself on the mid section of her body. It was almost two whole months  now. There wasn't a bump yet but there certainly was a firmness indicating the fact she was going to be a mother. She had to leave for their sakes. If they were born with a single inhuman feature from their father, then their lives would be a living nightmare in a village where demons were hated and shunned harshly. But explaining this to him. To Kokushibo...Was unpredictable. He was a samurai. A soldier. He could die on the battlefield and never return leaving her alone. He could completely reject the child also leaving her alone. Even if he accepted his soon to be status as a father, his duties as a soldier would always come first. And that's calculating the scenarios without his family. She had no idea what they'd think. They could make him completely disown her and her child for all she knew. 

BUT-...

Even IF no one blamed her for Nori's or Sabo's death. Even IF her baby was born completely human.  Even IF she could have a completely normal life with her baby.. Someone would be curious about who the father was. An unwed young woman with a baby mysteriously without a father  wouldn't go over well at all especially in a small village with gossip swirling about. She would be frowned upon and ridiculed either way. No. No. She couldn't allow that. 

A fresh start somewhere else would be the best thing for them both. It didn't sound too bad if one thought about it. A new life away from the toxic gossip and possible dangers but it was easier said than done. It's not easy leaving your whole life behind. Everything she's built for herself. Everyone she knew and cared about. Her entire livelihood. But..it was the only way. She'd have to start from the ground up in unfamiliar territory but... It'd work out. Somehow she'd make it work. 

Her eyes felt heavy as sleepiness crawled in but she had batted it away every time it arrived. Westward. She had to go westward. Every step she took was one more step to something better. Every tree she passed getting farther away meant less danger. It's all that mattered. The moon rose and fell giving way for her brother the sun to start his journey to light up the world. The slowly absorbing sunlight brought some warmth to the world but it was still rather cold and made her body shiver still. She was tired. So tired but she carried on. She only stopped briefly once  to fill a gourd in a nearby stream and eat some of the bread and cheese she packed herself and took a break to check her makeshift map. The tiny stream was on it so at least she knew she was going the right way. But it'll still be a long time before she came to the mountains let alone the nearest town which was right past the mountain. So she started again. Walking and walking and walking. Hour after hour. Step after step. Until it started to get sundown and she finally allowed herself to sleep but not before lighting up a campfire to keep. By the time she woke up the next morning she was shivering cold again and the ashes of the fire were softly simmering out. She made extra sure to put out the ashes and try to disguise the remains of the fire just in case someone might've come looking for her. Then it was back to walking westward.

She only hoped she was doing the right thing. 

Day after day passed. Colder and colder the wind chilled. Flat land of dead grass became slowly steeper and steeper as hours and days and nights meshed together. She didn't know how much time had passed really but she was starting to run out of food. Water was scarce.  And it was starting to close in on her-

And then it started to snow

Turquoise eyes had woken up to frost that morning and barely enough energy to open her eyes let alone stand. The fire long since died out leaving the cold to creep it's unforgiving hands over her. The sky had been taken over by darkened clouds so not even the sun's warmth would be blessing the earth. 

Teeth chattered. Food was gone by that day's end. Water only a dream. Warmth scarce. Cold only bring the deadly company as the path became steeper. 

And then it started to snow. 

Lost. Everyway looked the same. Barren trees inviting death as no life was left behind by Old Man Winter's deathly kiss.

Teeth chattered. Arms uselessly rubbed her sides to no avail. She lost feeling in most of her body. Couldn't even feel the cold from how numb she was. But she still pressed on despite being lost and cold. Step after step. Snowflakes kissed pale skin as if inviting her to rest and let the cold take her away in a peaceful slumber. But she couldn't.

She...

Couldn't....

Steps stumbled. A weakened body collapsed to the cold ground. Tired. She was so tired. So cold. So numb. Vision blurred and fluttered. Head spun as eyelids drew heavy. Darkness closed in as eyelids fluttered closed to the cruel world. Ears ringing softly as the world caved in and faded away with black as her breath weakened.

"...I'm...sor-...ry..."

Quiet. Peaceful silence echoed throughout the barren Forrest of trees. Celebrating the claiming of the warm life now laid upon the falling snowflakes. Coating her in white. Until a cherry whistle playfully tuned out. Driving away the cruel cold world. Footsteps crunched through the snow on their way for a nice long day's work outside.

"Here now. What's this?"

A metal axe perfectly sharpened fell to the ground. 

"Ma'am? Hey, miss! Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

A calloused hand pressed against her neck. 

"She's alive..but barely. Don't worry! I'll help you just hang in there for a little bit more."

........

Warm.

Everything was warm once feeling returned to her body. Which was odd. She was lying on the cold hard ground last she remembered. Logic was of course the first thing to return to hier. Her thinking was always faster than her reflexes. Then the feeling of his body settled in. Warmth...but incredible aching, throbbing soreness. It throbbed and pained her body. Wait..So she wasn't dead? But...where was she? Heaven? Was she actually dead and woke up in the afterlife?

Eyes slowly opened themselves up to the world blinking rapidly at the light and her vision blurred until she could see...A one roomed house? It was mostly empty. But there was a stove to cook food, and a small well in the middle of the home, and a few other things she didn't recognize as hers or familiar. Nothing that really stood out as anything important to her but she didn't recognize this place at all. But who lived here? Why was she inside? How did she get here? And who touched her?

Wait...Where was she?

Her question was answered when the door opened and the figure of a a man wearing ared haori coat walked in. Cold wind blew in from behind him making the man shiver.

"Brrr. It's going to be a cold one this year." He had to use his foot to close the door behind him before he walked on over to the stove which she now realized was lit with a small fire.

"There you are," a woman's voice called out from somewhere else in the room her ears couldn't direct.  "I thought you were going to be out until dark again."

The man laughed happily at the voice. "Aw. We're you worried about little old me? I might just do that then. It makes me feel special."

"Get in here before I drag you in from the cold myself.'

More hearty laughter escaped the man's throat like he couldn't help it. "Yes, dear."

The smell of wood drew hier attention to the logs he was carrying. Silently she watched as he slid the sliding door back closed with a foot before continuing on to the fireplace and proceeding to feed the fire the wood. She laid there silently staring at his legs as he worked, feeling too weak to look up just yet and not wanting to give herself away just yet. The sounds of a metal poker scraping against the fire appeared for a little while before it too went away and the legs turned to face her. They didn't move again for a long moment before she felt a hand touch her blanketed shoulder- A gasp of air escaped from her mouth making the hand pull back startled. Two heads turned to face one another. Red met turquoise. And both froze.

A very handsome man was staring down at her. His black hair was tied back in a short ponytail and pretty ruby red eyed blinked down shocked at her. The red haori coat was wrapped around a white undershirt he wore alongside black pants. He stared down at her with shock etched into his features ....until the shock slowly gave way to a soft smile. 

"Hey there. I thought you were never going to wake up," a voice full of kindness spoke out and held his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture. "You must've been really tired to decide to take a nap in this weather." He tried to make a joke smiling.

Turquoise eyes weakly blinked at him. The mouth moved slightly as the first tries of a sound came out.

"Hey. It's alright. Don't strain yourself if you're not ready yet." He calmly placed an assuring hand on her. A shuffling sound was heard like someone else walking. "You should rest."

"W-..who A-Are you..?" The mouth finally managed to ask confused and a bit dazed. A moment later a strange woman walked into sight right beside him. She was as beautiful as the man was handsome and he held a bowl in her hands.

The handsome man smiled again. "My name is Tokito." He gestured to the woman next to him. "This is my wife."

Turquoise eyes carefully glanced over each of them carefully. "...Where am I? H-How...How did I get h-here?"

"You're in our home," Tokito spoke, "I found you a little ways up the mountain from our home collapsed in the snow. I could've sworn you were dead at first but thank goodness you're alright." The woman under him sighed in relief as Tokito tilted his head. "I've never seen you before and you don't look like anyone down the mountain I sell lumber to. Where did you come from?"

His answer was her weakly shifting an arm under the blankets until a hand shakily poked out pointing to-

His eyes widened. "You came from the east provinces?" She weakly nodded as a look of horror passed over both Tokito and his wife before they looked at one another. "That's where all that war is isn't it?"

His wife nodded. "Yes." She looked right back at her. "But you walked all the way from there? That's nearly an entire months journey away."

Turquoise eyes widened slightly. "Is..that how long it's b-been?"

"Why would a girl from the east provinces walk that far away and up a mountain as winter hits no less?"

She shook her head. "T-Too many dangers. Had to get safety."

Again both looked at one another in a mixture of pity and shock. "Well.. That's certainly something I would do too if I was in your position. Where were you headed exactly?"

"Nearest town on the other side of the mountains."

Tokito hummed. "Well there is a village near here down the mountain. I sell lumber there but I'm afraid no one's going to be able to get down there. Usually winters around here are brutal and you wouldn't be able to get there safely through all this snow." He furrowed his eyebrows. "You're lucky you made it as far as you did. But I'm afraid you won't be able to go anywhere until everything faws out next spring which won't be until next year."

Turquoise eyes widened .. before her head fell against the pillow in disbelief.

"Well in the meantime.." The lady held up the bowl of soup. "Here. You need something warm in your stomach if you want to get better. Are you able to sit up?"

The woman scrunched her face up .. before sitting her head up and maneuvering her arms to help sit up. Tokito gently placed a hand on her back and helped her to sit up letting the blankets fall off her body before his wife handed over the bowl.

"Careful. It's hot."

"Thank you." A smile finally appeared on her face smelling the spices and broth. "It smells delicious." A shaking hand gently grabbed the spoon gifted with the bowl.

The wife nodded. "You'll be needing lots of it since you're eating for two."

She froze. Spoon halfway to her mouth before shocked turquoise eyes snapped to the other woman.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did I say something to upset you?"

"How..did you..?"

"Oh." The other woman looked a little guilty at her. "Well, when my husband brought you back, I looked you over for any injuries and..Well..It was a little hard to not notice that you were.." She gestured to her stomach in a half circle motion indicating how larger her stomach must've gotten in the time frame of her leaving her village. 

"Oh... N-No. It's alright. I suppose I should get used to it by now."

"Where's your husband if you don't mind me asking?"," Tokito spoke up a little concerned. "Was he traveling with you? If you both got separated then maybe I can go out and look for him."

Again the woman paused before she sadly looked at the soup. "...I.. don't have a husband."

"A widow?"

"N-No. I-" Her mouth opened up and she looked at them for a long moment.. before again looking away. "Their father went away to war...I have not seen him since a-and things were just too dangerous to wait for him."

Again both looked at one another silently as if speaking telepathically before his wife looked at her in deep pity. "Oh goodness. I'm so sorry. It must be a lot for you to go through right now. Why were you heading for the town?" 

"I-I was hoping to settle down there but I guess it was for nothing."

She placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well you can stay right here until the snow melts."

"What?!" Turquoise eyes blinked before she shook her head. "Oh no. I can't ask you to do that for me! I'll just get in the way-"

"Nonsense." With a final look, she stood up and turned away. "Now eat up and I'll hear you up a bath. Tokito, get some more wood for the fire." 

She looked at Tokito who chuckled. "Just let her. She can be a very stubborn woman. Once she gets her mind on something there's no stopping her. Like a runaway donk-"

"Don't finish that sentence if you want to sleep inside tonight."

Tokito just laughed at his wife's annoyed face. "Oh. By the way, what's your name?"

"H-Haruhime. M-My name is Y/n Haruhime."

~~~~~~~~~~

Ragged and tired from battle. Blood of enemies staining his body. Countless amounts of enemies. And so much red. It drenched him so much that it still dropped down his arms and to the ground despite the battle ending hours ago. Many eyes looked at him in horror as he stepped past while others looked away in fear of being next. Even the two guards stationed at the entrance of the tent shook slightly as he approached. Wordlessly stepping aside on instinct as the man gripped the tent flap and wretched it open startling a few men inside. Two generals who gave him a disgusted look and a man in the middle who looked both annoyed and sat around a table with a giant map with markings. 

"Father. We must speak. NOW."

"Michikatsu, I am in the middle of a battle plan! You better half a dam good reason for interrupting me!," his father seemed to be the only one not phased by the demon covered in blood.

"It concerns any future grandchildren you may have."

"Fine! Both of you get out!" Both generals were more than happy to scurry around the demon as he stared intensely at his angry father. "Did you eliminate those spies I ordered?"

"Every. Single. One."

"Good. If I want something done I send you. You're one of the only competent people around here. Now what do you want?"

"For years I've done everything you've asked me without question. I've killed your enemies. I've kept armies in line. And I've done any and all obligations as your heir without ever asking for anything in return or questioning a thing you've said. Well.." the tent flap was closed behind him leaving a bloody hand print where he gripped it. "I'm here to ask me to grant me one thing."

His father looked him up and down without fear but disgusted by the blood staining him before sighing annoyed. "I suppose you've earned it.. depending on what it might be."

"A woman. I found one. I want her."

"A woman? That's all?" His brows furrowed as he grunted. "You finally bothered to pick one!?"

"I want her..as my wife. Without interference from you because I want her whether you like her or not."

His father turned from annoyance to glare at him... but instead of getting angry and yelling at him like he expected, the older man instead turned to the map and pointed out a specific area. "We were able to get some valuable information from one of the spies you didn't kill. Apparently a scout of there's followed you up to a certain village not many know about." The demon's eyes went wide. His body stiffened as he looked at the map. "This area isn't open by us, or the Kibutsuji's, or even the west provinces. It's land is filled with resources. ... Apparently they're planning on ambushing us from through there and taking over the land. I want it."

THAT'S WHERE SHE LIVED

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Claim it for me. Kill his forces. Do this and you can have whatever you want in return without question."

"You have my word."