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mononijikayu · 7 months ago

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“beautiful boy (darling boy)” — gojo satoru.

“Papa chose the character for you. It means 'dawn'.” He whispered to him tenderly, almost like a little lullaby. “Because you are the beginning of a new chapter for our family. You bring light and hope into our lives, just like the dawn brings a new day."

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: beautiful boy (darling boy) by john lennon.

NOTE: my classes were cancelled and i just played random music on my phone and this.....sort of sparked something. i sobbed to this, by the way. this might be my last one for now. i've just been frantically making these for the past few days. i'll come back after some rest!!! i love you all so much!!! <3

addendum: the character satoru chose for satoshi is '暁' which means dawn/daybreak; satoshi was born on the same day as his father in 2014.

masterlist

u s and t h e m

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD COME TO THIS. He could remember it like it was yesterday, when you held out your hand and took his — placing them together on your belly. Your lilac eyes shone against his bright blue, full of wonder and anxiety. He was frozen at that moment. He was overwhelmed.

Not even his six-eyes could keep up with his emotions, his thoughts. He knew it was an accident, he knew it wasn’t something both of you planned. But he was happy. He was all too happy that he scooped you in his arms, as though you were the treasure of the world and cradled you, whispering the most loving things, loving words ever known to any being.

It was never your plan to have children, not even with the pressure from the elders of your clans. There was never the time. There was never a sense of security. WIth what Satoru was planning to do, with what dangers there’ll be — just like he had experienced in youth, none of you wanted that for your child. And you wanted to help him, you wanted to do well by him. Satoru was your lifeline, your purpose to live was his goal. Your life with him was what made your life blossom in these past few years of marriage. But that changed too, with the bludding life growing in your belly.

You both cried that night, holding each other. It was hard to comprehend that this was happening, that a child had chosen both of you. You were glad that the Tsumiki and Megumi were at a sleep-over. They didn’t need to see you both so conflicted with your joy and your worries. No kid should be burdened by such a thing as the worries of the heavy world.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of evening casting long shadows on the walls. Satoru sat across from you, his cerulean eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions—excitement, concern, and a fierce determination to protect. The news of your pregnancy had brought a bittersweet mix of joy and anxiety.

“We need to decide what to do next, darling.” Satoru said, his voice steady but laced with worry. “I don’t want you to suffer like my mother did. The multiple assassination attempts... I can’t let that happen to you.”

“We can’t tell the world, Satoru,” you said quietly with a soft nod. “The higher-ups could see this as an issue. There was a time when the passing of powers in the Gojo clan – similar to the Six-Eyes, was from father to son. They might see our child as a threat, Satoru….and I…I don’t want them to hurt our child.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. “Then we keep this between us, Megumi, and Tsumiki. My mother….maybe your mother and Aunt Arisu can help us hide this from the world too. They’ll understand the importance of keeping this secret.”

You reached out, your fingers intertwining with his. “They will. They’ve always been supportive of us…and our plans. They’ll be kind to us about this too. It is their next of kin now, after all.”

For a moment, your husband looks at you. His free hand draped across your cheek and you looked at him so lovingly, leaning your head against the warm palm of his hand. He could feel how lucky he was. How beautiful you were. His eyes lowered at your belly and felt that same warmth glowing from within you, as welcoming and loving towards the person who had helped give such life to the growing seed in your belly.

Satoru pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I’m sorry, darling.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with confusion. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “You’re the one who will suffer the most here, not me. The secrecy, the danger... it’s all on you. And all I can do is hold your hand. And I….”

You shook your head, resting your hand against his cheek. “Your hand is more than enough. You by my side is more than enough. All I have ever needed, all our child will ever need — is you. All they need is their father.”

“When did I ever deserve something as good as you in my life?”

You smiled at him, “Because you are good, Satoru. You’ve always been.”

“You’re the most important thing in my life.” He whispers to you, his hand on your belly. “You and our child.”

“We’re in this together, Satoru. I’m not alone in this.” You let your hand brush against his silver locks. “Because you’ll always be here, hm?”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I love you,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. “I love both of you. And I’ll protect you with all I have.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “I love you too,” you whispered, feeling the strength of his love envelop you. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of planning and preparation. Your mother and Aunt Arisu were brought into the fold, their wisdom and experience invaluable in devising a plan to keep your pregnancy a secret. They promised to support you in any way they could, offering their home as a safe haven where you could hide from prying eyes.

Megumi and Tsumiki were surprisingly understanding, their loyalty to you and Satoru unwavering. They vowed to keep the secret, to protect their future sibling from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the jujutsu world.

As the weeks turned into months, you found strength in the love and support of those around you. Satoru’s determination to protect you never wavered, his presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance. Despite the secrecy and the danger, there was a sense of hope that carried you through each day.

And in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for the love that bound you together. It was a love that would see you through the darkest of times, a love that would protect and nurture the new life growing inside you. And with Satoru by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The days leading up to Satoru's confrontation with Sukuna were heavy with unspoken fears and silent resolutions. Each moment felt borrowed, a fragile gift that could shatter under the weight of impending doom. You moved through your days with a heightened awareness, every touch, every glance laden with meaning. The anticipation was a living thing, a constant presence that neither of you could shake.

The last time you both saw your son was during separate visits to the ancestral manor. He knew you had been there, especially when you brought Yuuji along at his request. Satoru had visited him shortly afterward, driven by an insistent need to see his boy before the impending confrontation. The weight of the world seemed lighter, if only for a moment, as he thought of his son.

Satoru could only sigh, the longing in his heart palpable. He had yearned for Suguru for the past eleven, twelve years, a constant ache that never quite faded. Yet, this longing for Suguru, as intense as it was, paled in comparison to the deep, unyielding yearning of a father. He had missed his son so much, too much. The distance, both physical and emotional, had been a torment he could hardly bear.

Satoru was certain he remembered everything about his son. The boy was a spitting image of him—silver hair that fell a bit longer, the same striking blue eyes, though his son's were even darker, like the depths of the sea. But more importantly, he recognized the essence of you in every move, every quirk, every smile. Your son might look like Satoru, but in all the ways that mattered, he was you.

Satoru adored him the most in the world. Even if he loves you, there is truly nothing that’s going to encapsulate, translate how much he loves his little boy. Your son was a constant, beautiful reminder of the bond you both shared. Your son carried your grace, your kindness, and your strength. Every time Satoru looked at him, he saw the love and unity that defined your relationship. For that, he was profoundly grateful. For that, he was happy. There was a reminder of you, of him, together in this world, encapsulated in the boy who bore the best of both of you.

And here he was, newly sealed, recovering from all of it;

All he could think about was wanting to see your dear boy.

All he could think about was wanting to embrace him again.

"I want to go to Hida," he said, his voice steady but laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. He looks to you softly, eyes full of yearning. “I wanna see him.”

"Are you sure?" you asked gently, searching his face for any hesitation. You purse your lips. “Satoru, it’s unsafe now. Are you sure?”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. "I want to spend as much time as possible trying to make sure our son understands that his father loves him."

You could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the doubt that gnawed at him despite his resolute exterior. "Satoru, you're a good father." you assured him, but he shook his head, his expression conflicted. “You have put your own heart at hold to protect him. He understands.”

"I don't know if I'm doing it right or wrong," he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I love our son as much as I love Megumi, as much as I love you. But I didn't have a father growing up. Mine died when I was young, and I don't remember him very well. My mother tells me that he loved a lot, but I don't know if I believe that."

You stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "You love our son, and that's what matters most. He's always known that, even if you haven't been able to be there as much as you wanted. He sees it because you show him.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze distant as he recalled the moments he missed, the milestones he couldn't witness firsthand. "I want to be the best father to him, darling. I want him to know he's the most beloved son. That I love him the most in the world.”

"You already are, Satoru," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“We have to see him.” Your husband retorts back to you, a sad smile on his lips. “If this is the last chance—”

“It won’t be,” You shake your head at him. “You know that.”

“I know, but…” He sighs, resting his head against the crook of your neck. “I want to be sure. Nothing is bound, darling. I want to… I want to be able to leave him with something he can remember his old man by.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you both, the unspoken fears and the grim reality of what was to come. You could feel your throat choke up as you tried to banish the tears from your eyes. The thought of Satoru not being there hurt you.

Not only because you loved him, but because you knew your son loved him the best in the world. The thought of him becoming without the person he holds dear in the world, it tears you apart.

You want to believe that your husband was the title he was given. You knew he was strong. You believe he will overcome this. That’s why you keep putting off visiting your son. It was safer, it would be in the future that you and Satoru had fought so hard to fight for. But your husband was just a man too. A man who has a finite life and a heart too big for the world to comprehend. He was just Satoru. A husband, a father. A friend, a teacher. He was just like that.

You look at him with a guilty look. You were selfish with him, with what you said. He needed you, he needed Satoru. Your son needed you both. As much as you needed him. What is protecting him from all these dangers, if you both weren’t there to love him either?

What is loving Satoru if you can’t be there for him either? If you can’t love him properly either? You took a deep breath. You’ve made up your mind. You will not deprive him of this. You would not be selfish with this. You would let him be selfish. You would let him live as he had never before.

You held him tighter, feeling the tension in his muscles, the vulnerability he rarely showed. “You’re right. We will see him, my love.” you affirmed, your voice steady. “And we’ll make sure he knows how much he’s loved.”

Satoru’s eyes met yours, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. “Thank you, darling.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For understanding, for always being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you whispered to him tenderly as you kissed the small of his lips. “I should have been better with this.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. You want to protect him too, I understand.” He tells you, a small smile on his lips. “Sukuna has familiarity with Hida, I know you’re wary about it.”

You nodded, the weight of your concerns evident in your eyes. “I just want to make sure he’s safe. That we’re all safe.”

Satoru’s smile softened, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “We’ll keep him safe. We’ll keep everyone safe. That’s a promise.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “We’re in this together, Satoru. Always.”

He kissed your forehead, a lingering touch that conveyed all the words he couldn’t say. “Let’s go to Hida,” he said finally. “Let’s spend this time with him, make memories that will stay with him.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of resolve settle within you. “Yes, let’s do that. We’ll make sure he knows how much he means to us.”

All of Satoru’s training was canceled for the next few days.

Everyone understood why and said nothing about any of it.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t be happier to enjoy the long trip.

Because the next he’ll get off the train, he’ll see his dear son.

ARRIVING IN HIDA WAS A REFRESHING THING. It was as though the looming war, the destruction, the suffering, did not exist. These precious days felt suspended in time, a haven of peace amidst the chaos.

Each sunrise brought with it a semblance of normalcy, a gentle reminder of the life you were fighting to protect. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything it touched.

As the days passed, you found moments of solace in the simple joys of being together. Satoru’s determination to be the best father he could be was palpable. He approached fatherhood with the same intensity and dedication he showed in his sorcery, and you admired the way he threw himself into the role with such fervor.

His playful nature shone brightly as he engaged your son in games, stories, and lessons. The bond between father and son grew stronger with each passing day, and it filled you with a sense of hope and reassurance.

Gojo Satoshi did not know much about the wider world beyond the confines of the carefully constructed life you and your family had built around him. But Satoru thought that was for the best. At his tender age, the complexities and dangers of the world could wait.

For now, Satoshi was wrapped in a cocoon of love and safety, his days filled with laughter and innocence. The little lordling of the Gojo clan had the privilege of being shielded from the harsh realities, existing in a world where he was cherished and adored.

“Young master Gojo, please do not run too much! You’ll slip!” His nurse-maid's voice rang out in a mix of concern and exasperation as she hurried after the energetic boy. Her normally composed demeanor was visibly frazzled as she struggled to keep pace with her lively charge. “Young master!”

“Heh, chase me! Chase me!” Satoshi's infectious giggle echoed through the gardens, his small feet moving quickly across the manicured lawn. His silvery hair, so much like his father's, shimmered in the sunlight, and his blue eyes sparkled with pure delight.

The scene was picturesque, the verdant greenery of the garden serving as a perfect backdrop to the boy's joy. Flowers bloomed in a riot of colors, and the gentle hum of insects added to the serene atmosphere.

Gojo Satoru watched from a distance, a soft smile playing on his lips. He saw so much of himself in Satoshi, from the boy’s boundless energy to the mischievous glint in his eyes. Yet, he also saw you in him—the kindness, the warmth, the innate ability to find joy in the simplest things.

Satoshi’s world was small but rich, filled with the love and attention of those who cared for him. He didn't know of the looming threats or the responsibilities that came with his lineage. Instead, his days were spent exploring the garden, listening to stories, and playing games. It was a simple life, but it was one that Satoru cherished deeply for his son.

The nurse-maid finally caught up to Satoshi, scooping him into her arms despite his playful wriggling. “Young master, you must be careful,” she chided gently, her tone softening as she adjusted his tousled hair. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt. You are too important to be hurt.”

Satoshi pouted for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Okay, I’ll be careful,” he promised, though the twinkle in his eye suggested that he was already planning his next adventure.

“Our little lordling is too bright for the sun, huh?” Satoru approached, his presence immediately noticed by Satoshi, who reached out eagerly.

“Papa!” the boy exclaimed, his arms stretching towards his father.

With a warm chuckle, Satoru took Satoshi into his arms, lifting him high into the air. “Having fun, little lordling?” he asked, his voice filled with affection. “You were zooming out there, huh?”

“Yeah!” Satoshi replied enthusiastically. “We were playing chase, and I was winning!”

Satoru laughed, his heart swelling with love. “I’m sure you were. But remember to listen to your nurse-maid, okay? We don’t want any accidents.”

Satoshi nodded solemnly before breaking into giggles again. “I will, Papa.”

As Satoru held his son close, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. In these moments, the worries of the world faded away, leaving only the pure, unadulterated love between a father and his child. He knew that soon enough, Satoshi would grow older and the realities of their world would become unavoidable. But for now, he was determined to protect this innocence, to ensure that Satoshi's world remained filled with laughter and love for as long as possible.

“Let’s go find Mama,” Satoru said, carrying Satoshi back towards the house. “I’m sure she’s missed you.”

Satoshi's eyes lit up at the mention of you, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Let’s go find Mama!”

The path back to the house was lined with blooming cherry blossoms, their petals gently drifting to the ground with each breeze. Satoru walked with an easy grace, his son nestled securely in his arms. The house, an elegant blend of traditional and modern architecture, stood as a sanctuary amid the chaos of the outside world.

As they approached, the soft hum of your voice reached their ears. You were in the kitchen, preparing a meal, the aroma of freshly cooked rice and simmering soup wafting through the air. Your presence was a constant source of comfort and strength, grounding Satoru in ways he often struggled to articulate.

“Mama!” Satoshi called out excitedly as they entered the kitchen.

You turned, a warm smile spreading across your face as you wiped your hands on a towel. “There’s my little troublemaker,” you said, reaching out to take Satoshi from Satoru’s arms. “Were you having fun in the garden?”

Satoshi nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mama! We played chase, and I was winning!”

You chuckled, kissing his forehead. “I’m sure you were. Did you give the nurse-maid a hard time?”

Satoshi giggled, hiding his face on your shoulder. “Maybe a little.”

Satoru watched the interaction with a tender expression. “He’s full of energy today,” he commented, stepping closer to place a hand on your back. “How are you feeling?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes filled with understanding. “Better, now that you two are here.” You looked back at Satoshi, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Were you good for Papa?”

“Yes, Mama,” Satoshi replied earnestly. “Papa said we should always listen to nurse-maid.”

You smiled, giving Satoru an appreciative look. “That’s right. It’s important to be careful.”

Satoru's gaze softened as he watched you interact with Satoshi. Despite the looming threat of Sukuna, these moments of normalcy and love filled him with a fierce determination to protect his family at all costs.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” you said, turning back to the stove. “Why don’t you two wash up?”

Satoshi wriggled in your arms, eager to comply. “Come on, Papa!” he urged, pulling at Satoru’s hand.

“Alright, alright,” Satoru laughed, letting himself be led towards the bathroom. As he helped Satoshi wash his hands, he marveled at how such simple acts could bring so much joy.

After washing up, they returned to the kitchen where you had set the table. The meal was a humble but hearty spread, the kind that brought warmth and comfort to the soul. Satoru helped Satoshi into his chair before taking his own seat beside you.

As you all sat down to eat, Satoshi’s chatter filled the room, his stories animated and full of wonder. Satoru listened with rapt attention, his heart swelling with pride and love. He reached out to squeeze your hand under the table, a silent promise that he would do everything in his power to keep this happiness intact.

After dinner, you all settled in the living room. Satoshi, full and content, curled up next to you on the couch, his little head resting on your lap. Satoru sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, casting a serene ambiance over the scene.

Satoru looked at you, his cerulean eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. “We’re going to be okay,” he said softly, his voice steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, leaning into his embrace. “Together,” you echoed, your hand resting gently on Satoshi’s back.

“Papa, let’s go!” Satoshi’s eyes sparkled with excitement, his little hand tugging at Satoru’s sleeve.

“Hm? Where, little lordling?” Satoru asked, his voice warm with affection.

“The koi pond!” Satoshi replied eagerly, his enthusiasm infectious.

Satoru looked at you, seeking your opinion. You nodded and offered him a warm smile. “Why not? It’s too nice today and it’s refreshing after a long play, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Your husband nodded to you before turning his attention back to your son, his grin widening. “Does my little lordling want to be carried by papa, or is he wanting to be a big boy and walk?”

Satoshi puffed out his chest with pride, his tiny hands clenched into determined fists. “I’ll walk, Papa! I’m a big boy!”

Satoru chuckled, patting Satoshi’s head affectionately. “That’s my boy. Lead the way, then.”

The three of you made your way to the koi pond, the garden bathed in the golden glow of the moonshine The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of owls settling down for the evening. It was a tranquil scene, a stark contrast to the turbulent world outside your home.

The tranquil scene was framed by vibrant greenery and the soft murmur of a nearby stream. They were watching the koi fish swim lazily in the pond, their colorful scales glinting in the moonlight. Your son was immediately chattering excitedly about something he’d learned, his voice a melodic blend of enthusiasm and curiosity. Satoru listened intently, a fond smile playing on his lips.

Satoshi skipped ahead, his laughter ringing out like a melody. You and Satoru followed at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, savoring the peaceful moment.

As you reached the koi pond, Satoshi knelt by the water's edge, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched the colorful fish swim gracefully. “Look, Papa! The fish are so pretty!”

Satoru crouched beside him, pointing out different koi. “See that one with the golden scales? That’s the king of the pond. And that one over there, with the red spots, is the queen.”

Satoshi’s eyes sparkled with delight as he listened intently to Satoru’s explanations. “Can we feed them, Papa?”

Satoru glanced at you, and you smiled, pulling out a small container of fish food from your pocket. “Here you go, Satoshi. Just a little bit at a time, okay?”

Satoshi nodded eagerly, carefully taking the container from you and sprinkling a small amount of food into the pond. The koi fish swarmed to the surface, their mouths opening and closing as they devoured the food. Satoshi giggled with delight, clapping his hands together.

“Papa, did you know that koi fish can live for over 200 years?” your son exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.

Satoru nodded, his gaze never leaving your son’s animated face. “Really? That’s amazing, buddy. Imagine all the stories they could tell.”

Your son giggled, the sound pure and joyful. “Maybe they know magic, too!”

Satoru’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe they do. Maybe they’re the guardians of secret underwater realms.”

You and Satoru stood back, watching your son with fond smiles. “He’s growing up so fast.” you murmured, leaning into Satoru’s side. "Almost four already. He's not our baby anymore, hm?"

“He still is, y'know?” Satoru hummed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “but you're right. Soon, he’s going to grow up strong. Our beautiful boy, he’s always going to be loved, too.”

“This is perfect,” you whispered, leaning your head against Satoru’s shoulder. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart grounded you, reminding you of the strength you found in each other. “This is everything we could ever want.

“It is.” Satoru agreed, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Everything is more than I imagined.”

As the moon echoed below the horizon, casting a warm evening glow over the garden, the three of you stood by the koi pond, savoring the simple joys of family and the promise of a future filled with love and hope. All Gojo Satoru had to do was defeat Sukuna. All he had to do was get this over with. Then all will be over. He’ll get to be with you. He’ll get to be with Satoshi. You could be a family in peace.

Gojo Satoru wouldn’t be the strongest then.

He could just be himself, he could just be this.

He could just be your husband, Satoshi’s father.

He can be a human being for the first time in his life.

“Papa, can we stay here forever?” your son asked suddenly, his eyes wide with innocence. Both of you look at him. “You and mama, can we all be here together?”

Your son's innocent question hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the simplicity of childhood dreams. Satoru's gaze softened as he looked down at your son, his expression a mixture of tenderness and wistfulness. It was a question that held a weight far beyond its years, touching on the deepest desires of the heart.

For a moment, neither of you knew quite how to respond. The idea of staying in this tranquil moment forever, frozen in time with your family by your side, was undeniably tempting. Yet, reality loomed on the horizon, with its uncertainties and responsibilities.

Satoru exchanged a glance with you, silently communicating the depth of his emotions. There was a longing in his eyes, a yearning for a life free from the burdens of duty and danger. But beneath it all, there was a fierce determination to protect what mattered most—your family.

With a gentle smile, you reached out and ruffled your son's hair. "We'll always be together, Satoshi. No matter what happens, we'll find a way to stay together."

Satoru's hand found yours, his grip reassuring and firm. "That's right, little lordling. We'll always be here for you, no matter where life takes us."

Your son's eyes sparkled with happiness at your reassurance, his small hand reaching out to clasp both of yours. "Promise?"

You exchanged a knowing look with Satoru, his expression mirroring your own determination. "Promise," you both said in unison, sealing the vow with a tender smile

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room as you lay entwined with your husband and son. In the tranquil silence of the night, you could hear the steady rhythm of their breathing, a comforting reminder of the love that bound you together.

Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the ones you held most dear, that you found solace from the chaos of the outside world. Here, in the sanctuary of your shared love, you felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges awaited you.

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, a serene smile graced your lips. In the arms of your beloved family, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would overcome them with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

“Satoru, my love.” you whispered, your hand entwined with his. “Thank you for being here. For being with us.”

He turned to you, his eyes filled with love. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, darling. You and our son… you’re my everything.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your heart. “And you’re ours. Always.”

The days turned into weeks, and the time for Satoru’s confrontation with Sukuna drew closer. But instead of being consumed by fear, you found strength in the love that surrounded you. The bond you shared with Satoru, the love you had for your son, and the support of your family gave you the courage to face whatever lay ahead.

On the last evening before Satoru was to leave with you, the three of you all gathered under the stars, the night sky a blanket of twinkling lights above you. Your son sat on Satoru’s lap, his head resting against his father’s chest.

“Papa, will you come back soon?” he asked, his voice small and filled with hope.

Satoru hugged him tightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll do everything I can to come back to you, buddy. You and your mama are my entire world. Papa can’t live without any of you.”

Your son nodded, content with his father’s promise. “Me too, papa.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t live without you and mama.” Your son whispers to his father, wiping his father’s tears tenderly. Satoru blinked at his son’s act. “So papa has to do well and come back, with mama?”

In that tender moment, the depth of the bond between father and son was palpable. Satoru's heart swelled with emotion as he gazed into his son's earnest eyes, filled with a love so pure and unconditional it took his breath away. With a lump in his throat, he tightened his embrace, savoring the warmth of his son's small body pressed against his own.

His voice was thick with emotion as he replied, "I promise, buddy. I'll do everything in my power to come back to you and mama. You both mean the world to me, and I can't bear the thought of being without you."

Your son's response was equally heartfelt, his voice soft yet resolute. "I believe in you, papa. We'll be waiting for you, always."

You leaned against Satoru, drawing comfort from his presence. “I love you so much.”

He takes a breath. “I love you too. With everything in me.”

The night was quiet, filled with the gentle sounds of nature and the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in unison. As you closed your eyes, Satoru whispered a silent prayer, to any god listening above. If there ever was one. He prayed.

He wished that he could come home. He wished that he could be with you. He wished that he could watch Satoshi grow up. He wishes for that dream, for that hope, to come true.

That’s what all he could see as he lay there.

Shoko Ieiri looked him in the eyes as he struggled.

He smiles at her and then you, puddle full of tears.

“I love you.” He choked. “You and Satoshi, I love you.”

From faraway Hida, a boy sits by the koi pond and prays.

“I hope that my mama and papa return to good health soon.”

flashback epilogue

The hospital room was cast in a gentle, dim light, creating a serene atmosphere that belied the intensity of the recent events. Satoru sat on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders relaxed yet filled with a quiet strength as he cradled his newborn son, little Gojo Satoshi, against his chest.

With delicate care, he adjusted the soft blankets around little Satoshi, ensuring his newborn son was warm and comfortable. Despite the fatigue evident in his eyes, there was a palpable sense of wonder and tenderness in Satoru's touch as he looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms.

Meanwhile, you lay nearby, your form softened by the relief of finally finding respite after the long and arduous hours of labor. Your face, though etched with exhaustion, held a serene expression, a testament to the profound sense of fulfillment that accompanied the arrival of your precious child.

In that quiet moment, amidst the hushed sounds of the hospital room, the bond between parent and child blossomed, enveloping the room in an aura of warmth and love that seemed to transcend time itself. Satoru couldn’t be happier to carry his whole world in his arms.

Gazing down at the tiny bundle in his arms, Satoru felt a surge of overwhelming love wash over him. With a soft smile, he leaned in close to Satoshi's ear, whispering words of welcome and affection.

"Welcome to the world, my beautiful boy." Satoru murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "D’you know what your name is? What it means?”

The little boy cooed at his father’s words.

Satoru laughed softly, looking at him lovingly.

He was already so attentive towards his father.

“Mama and I decided together, y’know? Your name just had to be Satoshi.” Satoru takes a deep breath, smiling as the baby cooes again. “You’re satisfied, hm? But you’ll like the spelling more, little man.”

Satoru could only feel overwhelmed by what he felt.

He could only feel nothing but joy, nothing but elation.

The dawn was breaking, as it always had before this moment.

But now, where his own dawn was in his hands, he just smiled.

There was a louder coo this time around.

He was more than happy, Satoru thinks.

And he couldn’t be happier than this moment.

This beautiful boy, his darling boy, his dawn.

Satoru pressed a gentle kiss to Satoshi's forehead, marveling at the precious life he held in his arms. "I love you so much, my son," he whispered, his heart overflowing with love and joy at the arrival of their little miracle. “My little dawn.”

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ghoulsbounty · 8 months ago

Text

From a Previous Life (Pt 2)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You find comfort in your routine with the Ghoul, but an evening of bonding turns into harsh realizations.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, more flirting (less squinting),

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: The second part to what was a one-shot but the responses were so overwhelmingly lovely about it that I just had to write more! I have more ideas for these two because they break my heart, so part 3 will be happening next week :) I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A routine had solidified between you both, born out of necessity in this unforgiving landscape. Each day, you travelled further through the barren wasteland, seeking refuge in abandoned structures come evening. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you gathered around the crude fire, its flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the worn walls of whatever shelter you'd found. It was a skill your companion had imparted through countless arduous nights, a beacon of warmth and security in the darkness.

With the day's journey behind you, you would compare your spoils. Tins of pork and beans, salvaged copper, and screws—valuable commodities in the market of survival. Occasionally, luck would smile upon you, offering a giant mole rat to add to the evening stew. It wasn't gourmet by any means, but a welcomed reprieve from the Ghoul's ever-present jerky stowed away in his saddlebag like a grim reminder of the world you now inhabited.

Few words had been exchanged between you. You'd come to understand that the Ghoul valued silence, speaking only when necessary, and expected the same from his companion. He had provided a brief summary of the world's changes over the past two centuries, yet remained guarded when pressed for further details about his own involvement. Despite your efforts, he remained as enigmatic as when he first found you.

Despite the grim reality surrounding you, you found comfort in the routine. Far removed from the life you once knew before the war, you still managed to extract a glimmer of joy from the simple act of preparing the evening meal. With meagre resources at your disposal—a small iron pot, a battered ladle, and two cracked but serviceable dishes—you endeavoured to create sustenance that mimicked the warmth of a homecooked meal, even in these bleak times.

The Ghoul stood as your protector, his watchful presence having undoubtedly spared you from peril on numerous occasions during your brief time together. Cooking was a way to prove your significance in your partnership, no matter how seemingly insignificant it may appear.

The heavy thud of boots and clink of spurs against wood jolted you from your thoughts, the ladle in your hand halting its rhythmic stirring of the broth as you cast a wary glance towards the doorway. It wasn't the first time he had left you alone, deeming it safer to venture into the bustling towns without the added complication of a young woman in tow. He had armed you with a revolver and a combat knife, imparting what little training he could in their use, but you couldn't shake the feeling that his trust in your abilities extended only as far as your loyalty not to run in his absence.

"Well, that smell's delicious," drawled the Ghoul, his figure framed in the doorway, hat tipped low over his scarred features. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you couldn't help but return it, the warmth of his presence a rare comfort after just an hour alone.

"Did you get them?"

"You doubted me?" He teased, stepping towards you and offering out a small cloth bag. You accepted it eagerly, peeking inside at the plump, juicy tomatoes nestled within.

You wasted no time in incorporating the fresh produce into your cooking, the aroma of the simmering fruit mingling with the savoury scent of the meat in the broth. Seated together by the fire, the weathered dining chairs offering a semblance of normalcy, you couldn't help but inquire about his expedition.

"Did everything go alright?" you asked, eyeing him cautiously as he slumped back in his chair, a groan escaping his cracked lips as he stretched out.

"Hunky dory," he sighed, his voice tinged with sarcasm, head back and fingers entwined over his stomach. You could tell he was lying, noticing the slight clench of his jaw and his reluctance to meet your gaze.

It was a tell that you had picked up on in your short time together, one that betrayed his otherwise stoic resolve. For some reason, the Ghoul had taken to concealing parts of the truth from you. Maybe he thought you were too weak, too naïve, or perhaps he simply didn't want to subject himself to further questioning. Regardless, it had begun to grate on your nerves. While you appreciated his protection, you couldn't afford to remain in the dark about so much in this dangerous world.

"I'm coming with you next time," you declared, your gaze unwavering as you stirred the pot, the clinks of metal against metal punctuating your determination. "Two guns are better than one."

A playful glint danced in his eyes as he countered, "Not when you're the one holding it." Yet, the lightness in his tone ebbed away, leaving a hard undercurrent. "Already told you no."

There was a flicker of frustration that passed across your features, but you held his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "And I've already told you not to underestimate me," you retorted, the fire of conviction burning in your words.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, bringing his face closer to yours. A furrow creased his brow, his gaze intense as he pointed a finger towards your growing belly.

"And you underestimate everyone else," he admonished, his voice edged with concern. "You think those vultures would take one look at you, at that cargo you're carryin', and let you walk on by? It's every man for himself out here, sweetheart, and the wasteland makes a man do terrible things. You're a commodity, and it's best you not forget it."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of the truth settling upon you like a leaden cloak. Despite your defiance, his words struck a chord of fear within you, a reminder of the harsh realities of the world beyond the safety of the little sanctuary you have cultivated together.

The ladle slipped from your grasp, forgotten, as your trembling hands instinctively hugged your pregnant belly. Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as the weight of his words settled heavily upon your shoulders. A commodity. That's what you and your unborn child had been reduced to in this unforgiving world, one that felt alien and hostile, yet one you were forced to confront day in and day out.

Anger simmered within you, a fierce blaze fuelled by resentment towards those who had stripped you of your former life, of the safety and belonging you had once taken for granted. And though you knew it was irrational, a pang of ungratefulness gnawed at your conscience, directed towards your reluctant protector for the loss of the freedom you so desperately yearned for.

In that moment, amidst the swirling emotions and the harsh reality of your circumstances, you felt an overwhelming sense of isolation, as if you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty with no safe harbour in sight. Perhaps even the promised haven would prove to be a deception, like the vault you had been a prisoner in for so many years. Yet, for the sake of your child, you couldn't afford to surrender to despair. Hope would become your anchor, however fragile.

With a firm resolve, you brushed away the tears before they could show your vulnerability, steeling yourself against the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf you. Turning your attention back to the bubbling broth, you scooped two large servings into the worn bowls, the aroma of simmering spices mingling with the heaviness in the air.

Handing one bowl to your companion, you found him slumped back in his chair, his weathered face illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire. His fingers traced the jagged contours of scars etched deep into his weathered face. A palpable aura of silent desperation hung around him like a shroud, casting a shadow over the dimly lit room.

Tucking into your meals in silence, the rhythmic clinking of spoons against bowls filled the room, a familiar melody that spoke volumes without the need for words. Each bite was a small reprieve from the harsh reality that surrounded you, a momentary escape from the relentless cruelty that had become all too familiar.

His voice, barely a whisper, cut through the quietude of the room, laden with a heavy weight of remorse. "I've upset you," he confessed, the words hanging in the air.

You looked up from your meal, meeting his gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. Despite the turmoil within you, there was a flicker of understanding in your eyes as you acknowledged his veiled apology.

"It's not just you," you replied, your voice tinged with weariness. 'I just feel so useless. I can't protect myself or my baby, can't help you without being a burden. I feel like I have no control.'

He nodded, his expression grave as he processed your raw admission of vulnerability and contemplated what to do next. Setting both bowls aside, he reached into a sack he had brought back from the town, his movements deliberate and methodical. From within the depths of the bag, he withdrew a familiar metal gadget, its sleek design reminiscent of the cuffs you had seen the scientists wear during your captivity.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories of your ordeal flooded back, the sensation of cold surgical equipment against your skin sending shivers down your spine. They had treated you like nothing more than a lab rat, subjecting you to experiments and tests that had left scars, both physical and emotional, that may never fully heal.

As he held the device in his hands, his gaze softened, a silent acknowledgment of the pain and trauma you had endured. "I know what this represents," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse and a tinge of anger. "But it can give you the control you've been denied for so long."

His words hung in the air, laden with the weight of possibility and hope. And as he extended the cuff towards you, offering you a chance to reclaim a measure of agency in a world that had sought to strip it away, you knew that this was more than just a piece of technology—it was a gift, a symbol of resilience. With trembling hands, you reached out to accept it, a silent vow echoing in the depths of your soul: never again would you allow yourself to be reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game.

As the cuff clicked shut around your wrist, its surprisingly light weight belied the bulk of its appearance. You found yourself staring down at the blank screen, uncertainty knotting your stomach as you grappled with the unfamiliarity of the device. The Ghoul, ever the steady presence beside you, reached over and deftly twisted a knob at the side of the device.

In an instant, the screen came alive with vibrant green text, welcoming you to Vault Tec. An animated image of the grinning mascot of the vaults, a sight you had come to loathe, greeted you with a cheery thumbs-up. You couldn't help but sneer at the sight, the irony not lost on you as the Ghoul swiftly navigated through the interface, replacing the obnoxious Vault Boy with a menu that offered a dizzying array of options.

"It'll take some understanding, but you'll get it in time," the Ghoul reassured you, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos of information overload. "The important part is the Geiger counter—it'll keep you out of trouble you didn't even know was there."

Your attention was drawn to the right of the device where a dosimeter's needle bobbed with the steady wave of radiation through the air. Another twist of the knob and on the screen appeared a walking depiction of Vault Boy, displayed percentages accompanying each limb. Below him, a nearly empty bar filled only with a small green block indicated the radiation count of the user. After weeks spent on the unforgiving surface, it came as no surprise that you had been touched by the poison that tainted it.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the device on your wrist. Looking up, you met the Ghoul's gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes.

Those words didn't do justice to the gift that he'd given you — it was a lifeline, a tool that held the power to protect not only yourself but also your unborn child. It wasn't a weapon meant for moments of attack, as the revolver he demanded you carry on your hip was, but it was equally essential in its own right. The significance of being able to monitor and mitigate the dangers that lurked in the new world was not lost on you. It wasn't just about surviving anymore; it was about thriving, about carving out a future for your child in a world that had become a battleground for survival. One day, the Ghoul would not be there to protect either of you.

"It must have cost so much," you continued, a note of wonder in your voice, and he simply shrugged in response.

"Always something to be bartered in the wasteland," he replied nonchalantly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Don't go crying again, now. You'll give me a bad name."

You chuckled softly. Wiping at your wet eyes with the back of your hand, you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement. "It's the hormones, I swear," you joked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

He seemed amused by your explanation, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gave you a knowing look. Instead of arguing, he simply winked at you, and you felt a flutter in your belly—you brushed it off as a small, subtle reminder of the life growing within you.

"Got any more of that stew?" he asked, his tone light and teasing as he reached for his bowl, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating like smoke in the wind. "Of course," you replied, ladling some more stew into his bowl. "I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, it's been many years since I've had a homecooked meal," he told you, his tone tinged with nostalgia as he tucked into his food with relish.

You smiled warmly at his words, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the simplicity of the meal you had managed to put together. It may not have been a lavish feast, but the fact that you could provide him with a taste of home filled you with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

"Maybe we could get some vegetables next time. Carrots maybe," you suggested, a hint of excitement in your voice.

He hummed approvingly through his mouthful, nodding in agreement. "Saw some fine-lookin' turnips on my way out of town too. Reckon you can do anything with those?"

Your eyes lit up with inspiration. "Turnip and carrot mash. We could get some milk from a Brahmin, make it nice and creamy."

He licked his lips, a spark of anticipation igniting in his eyes as he set down his empty bowl. "Well now, that's just given me something to look forward to."

The two of you talked well into the night, the crackling of the fire providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation. You noticed a shift in the Ghoul's demeanour as the topic veered towards plans for future meals and the road ahead, his tense posture easing as time went on.

Determined to keep his attention and the mood still light, you regaled him with tales of your life before, weaving together anecdotes from your childhood and high school years with a touch of self-deprecating humour. He listened with genuine interest, his deep laughter ringing out like a balm to soothe the ache of your weary soul.

You found yourself deliberately steering the conversation away from his own past, choosing to focus instead on the light hearted memories of your own. You spoke of your best friend Patti, with whom you had been inseparable, recounting the antics and adventures that had filled your days. You mentioned how close you had become, so much so that you had even moved into houses next door to each other and planned out each meticulous part of your lives..

However, you made a conscious decision not to mention your husband, feeling a pang of uncertainty as to why. Perhaps it was a desire to keep Glenn and your companion separate in your mind, two distinct chapters of your life that you were reluctant to intertwine for some unbeknownst reason. Or maybe it was a subconscious attempt to shield yourself from the painful memories that lingered just beneath the surface.

Regardless of the reason, you found solace in the simplicity of the moment, in the shared laughter and camaraderie that felt like a bond forging between you both. This was the most that the Ghoul had spoken to you in the weeks since you'd started traveling with him, and you relished the comfort that it brought you. Despite the superficial nature of the conversation, there was a sense of intimacy in the shared laughter and you felt giddy at the prospect of you both becoming more than strangers to each other.

When a yawn escaped you, the Ghoul smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nodded towards the makeshift beds you had prepared earlier that afternoon. Two tattered twin mattresses salvaged from the wreckage of a long-forgotten room, a decent width apart and covered with old, vermin-chewed sheets. It wasn't glamorous by any means, but it was a far cry better than some of the makeshift sleeping arrangements you had been resigned to during your journey through the wasteland.

"Go get. That's enough jaw flappin' for one night," he teased, a playful glint in his eye. Despite his jest, there was affection in his smile, a silent reassurance that you were safe and perhaps even cared for in his company.

With a chuckle, you nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. Rising from your seat by the fire, you made your way towards the makeshift beds, the promise of a few hours of rest beckoning you like a siren's call.

The unwelcome pest of a thought nagged at you, persistent until you found yourself unable to ignore it any longer. With a determined resolve, you moved back towards the Ghoul, your steps fuelled by a sense of urgency you couldn't quite explain. Ignoring the look of alarm that flickered across his face, you leaned over awkwardly as he sat in his chair, and wrapped your arms around him in a brief but heartfelt embrace.

For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to stand still as you felt the surprising warmth of his strong arms around you, the comforting weight of your pregnant belly nestled between you serving as a tangible reminder of the life growing within you. You wanted to thank him, to tell him that this simple gesture meant more to you than words could express—that it was the most human you had felt since thawing from that cryo-chamber all those weeks ago.

But before you could find the words, your thoughts were shattered by the rapid clicking of the dosimeter. Startled, you pulled back, confusion clouding your features as you looked down at the device on your wrist, its needle flitting erratically with each click.

As you glanced between the dosimeter and the Ghoul, a sense of realization began to dawn on you. His eyes remained downcast, his expression unreadable, but the sudden silence of the dosimeter spoke volumes.

In that moment, the pieces began to click into place, like a puzzle slowly revealing its hidden picture. You knew that everything on the surface was a danger, that radiation flooded every inch of land and contaminated everything it touched. Every mouthful of food you took, every swig of water, every wash of your body—each was a necessary risk in the struggle for survival.

But naively, you hadn't stopped to consider the threat that the Ghoul posed—not beyond the immediate danger of him putting a gun to your head or the possibility of him selling you to the highest bidder.

As the suffocating realization settled over you, you felt the overwhelming sense of isolation creep back in, wrapping around you like a vice. Your protector was also your potential killer, and he had wanted to ensure you had a Pip-Boy—to keep you out of trouble you didn't even know existed.

He had given you the knowledge, the control, to make your own findings and decisions, all for the sake of your unborn child. And yet, despite his intentions, you couldn't help but feel a hint of betrayal. You almost wished you could have remained blissfully ignorant about this particular aspect of life on the surface. It was as if you had lost a friend you hadn't really ever had.

"You keep that thing on," he said with a hint of sadness, pointing to your wrist. The only acknowledgement of what just happened. You nodded silently, your hand instinctively running over the cool metal of the Pip-Boy before you turned away.

"Goodnight," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you retreated to your bed. With each step, the weight of the truth bore down on you, a heavy burden you would carry with you as you drifted into a troubled sleep, haunted by the knowledge that even in this new world, friendship was a luxury you could ill afford.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout prime #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout x reader

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daisiesinvienna · 4 months ago

Note

daryl being the most protective w fem!reader. maybe reader doubting daryl’s feelings for her & him saying “why wouldn’t i save you?”. reader shaking and daryl putting his hand on the side of her face brushing her cheek with his thumb 🥺

Nexilis

Title: Nexilis

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: You are a wildflower blooming in the midst of death and destruction, a breath of fresh air. Daryl doesn’t know how to tell you he loves you.

Warnings: Swearing

Era: Prison

Authors Note: Nexilis is the latin word for woven together or intertwined. This was meant to be a shorter blurb but dude I could not stop writing. Thank you for the request! <3

Daryl Dixon never liked having his emotions on display for everyone to see.

During his childhood, he learned that expressing emotions led to vulnerability, and vulnerability led to weakness. So, when he was young, he learned how to bottle up his emotions, learned to keep them suppressed so nobody around him knew what he was feeling. As he grew older, It became his second nature.

When Daryl first met you back in Atlanta, he knew instantly that it would be a struggle to keep up his cold demeanor. He knew he would have to try to keep up the walls he worked so hard to build. Because you were like a breath of fresh air.

You were the air that filled his lungs, the oxygen he needed to survive. And that terrified him.

The only problem he had with you was that everywhere you went, emotions followed. Not bad emotions, but emotions like joy and hopefulness. Feelings Daryl wasn’t used to. So he tried to keep his distance.

But you, being the beam of sunlight you were, noticed his seemingly sullen personality and made a point of talking to him regularly. He made an attempt at resisting your charm, but it didn’t take long for his carefully built walls to come crashing down. He soon came to realize that a single beam of sunlight could cast away the darkest of shadows.

During your time spent together before and at the prison, you and Daryl grew closer. He often sought you out to ask if you wanted to go on a run with him, and you took pride in knowing you were the only person he’d outright ask to join him. You often asked him questions about himself and whatever other things crossed your mind, seeming genuinely interested in the things he had to say. Daryl wasn’t used to being listened too, to being considered. People would make jokes, feign surprise when one of you was spotted without the other. It was known, the deep bond the two of you had, but it wasn’t pointed out. It was just a fact.

At some point in your relationship, you crossed the imaginary line drawn between friends and something more. Somehow, despite all the horrors that happened everyday in the world, something beautiful emerged. Daryl had no choice but to let you into his heart.

He’d tried to resist it, but eventually had to just face it. He loved you.

And that scared the shit out of him.

While you showed your love through words and touch, Daryl showed his by keeping you safe. It was the only way he knew how. In a world as unpredictable as this one, he knew that you could be ripped from him in an instant. But he would be damned if he let that happen.

He kept one eye on you all the time, making sure you were eating and staying hydrated. If there was ever an uncertain situation, he was at your side, resting a calloused yet gentle hand on your waist as if you were going to slip away from him. During encounters with other people, people you didn’t know, he was gently moving you behind him. Silently letting you know that he’d guard every hair on your head, that he would do anything to keep you safe.

You always felt safe around Daryl. You always knew that whatever the situation, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And for that you were eternally grateful.

But eventually you begun to notice how he was never the first to lean in for a kiss, never was the first to initiate contact. You were always the first. You’d told him you loved him multiple times, normally as a goodbye when he leaves for a run or when you go to help Rick with the garden. But you’d never once heard it back. Which you didn’t have a problem with at first. You knew he’d had a difficult childhood, though he didn’t like to talk about it.

But as the months passed, you started to question his feelings for you. You started to wonder if he felt for you the way you felt for him, if he didn’t show you affection or tell you he loved you just because he didn’t want to.

One cloudy and slightly damp fall morning, while you were out tending to the garden out in the former prison yard, you spotted Daryl heading towards the gate with his crossbow slung over his back, clearly about to head out on a run. Dusting your hands off on your jeans, you make your way across the prison yard to meet him by the gate.

“Morning!” You say, flashing him a smile. You see he hadn’t retrieved his motorcycle from where it sat near the prison tower, so he was planning on heading out by foot. Probably going hunting.

“Mornin��,” He answers stoically. He doesn’t exactly return your smile, but the corners of his mouth turn up a bit.

“You going on a run?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs in response, going to fiddle with the chain keeping the gate secure.

“Mind if I join?” You ask tentatively, and he looks at you for a moment before responding.

“Alrigh’,” He says gruffly, and you grin. He successfully opens the gate, tossing the chain aside. “You got your gun?”

You in fact did have your pistol on your hip, and with that, you followed Daryl through the gate and away from the prison. He was just planning on hunting around the nearby woods, hoping a few squirrels or even a deer would cross his path. He knew that everyone at the prison would be grateful for something other than canned vegetables.

Neither of you talked much as you walked through the woods, the only sounds being the leaves crunching under your feet and occasional bird calls. Other than that, a good portion of your walk was spent in dead silence.

Daryl walked a bit ahead of you, glancing back periodically as if he was making sure you were still there. He moved effortlessly and silently through the woods, while you tried your best not to step on every twig you came across and stumbled once or twice.

As you trudge through the woods, you feel your thoughts drifting back to your doubts about your relationship with the broad man walking ahead of you. You didn’t miss how he’d avoided your gaze back at the prison gate, and it had only encouraged your feelings of uncertainty. Now, as you step over a fallen tree, you wonder why he rarely shows you any affection.

Maybe it was something you’d done. Maybe you’d said something, done something at some point that had made him grow so distant. But as you rack your brain for an instance such as this, you come up with nothing. Or, maybe, he just didn’t care for you as much as you thought. Maybe he kept you around because he felt bad for you.

You stare at the back of his head, knowing that you should talk to him about it. If you had done something to him, you’d want to know. If he didn’t love you, you would want to know even more. Better to know so you could move on and stop burdening him with feelings he didn’t reciprocate. But you didn’t know how to start such a conversation. So you hear yourself blurt out probably the worst conversation starter of the decade.

“Do you love me?”

He stops walking. You stop a few feet behind him, and he slowly turns to face you. You’re fully prepared for that signature Daryl scowl, but instead he looks shocked. His eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What the hell ‘re you talkin’ about?” He asks, and you stare down at the ground, embarrassed you’d asked such a blunt question.

“I mean- you’re just always so… distant,” You respond quietly, and he sighs. There is a moment of silence, broken only by the trees rustling in the breeze.

“I know,” He murmurs after a second, and you look up to meet his eyes. “I know, ‘n i’m sorry.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment.

“It’s just-“ He starts, then trails off. You stare at him, waiting. He appears to be having some kind of conflict within himself.

“I’ve never felt like this for anyone before, and it scares the shit outta me,” He says finally, and you meet his eyes, dumbfounded. You can tell that that was difficult for him to say.

“That’s it?” You ask, quietly. He moves closer to you, and to your surprise, cups your cheek in his large, calloused hand and looks into your eyes before speaking again.

“‘M not used to this. Any of it,” He murmurs, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. You lift your hand to rest on his, staring into his blue eyes. “And I know ‘m not good at findin’ ways to tell ya I love ya. But I do, and I need ya to know that. I love ya more than anythin’.”

You nod, feeling relief wash over you at the sound of those three words leaving his mouth. A smile creeps onto your face. He moves his hand from your cheek, using it to tilt your chin up slightly. He takes a moment to rake his eyes across your face, hesitating, before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

He kisses you slowly, deeply, trying to convey the feelings he couldn’t come to terms with to you. You reciprocate, feeling yourself smile into the kiss.

And, as Daryl continues to kiss you amongst the trees, he swears to himself that he is going to make sure you don’t have to ask him that question ever again.

#daryl dixon #daryl twd #the walking dead #twd #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #twd fanfiction

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apollogeticx · 3 months ago

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✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter six of ten

wc. 3.4K

Months had passed since Gojo’s unexpected visit, and life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The confrontation had been a turning point, not just for you but for Geto as well. After Gojo had infiltrated the hideout and taken back the cursed womb paintings, it had become clear that staying in that place was no longer an option. The hideout had become compromised, and Geto knew that Gojo wouldn’t let the matter rest so easily.

In the weeks that followed, Geto moved you to a new hideout, far from the remnants of the old one, in a remote, forested area where sunlight filtered through the trees and cast dappled shadows on the ground. The new location was much more peaceful, almost serene compared to the darkness of the old hideout. It was secluded, quiet, and perfect for the family you were building together.

The months slipped by in a blur of change and growth. You gave birth to a beautiful baby—a daughter who was the very image of both you and Geto. She was the light of your life, her presence filling the hideout with an energy you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Geto had been overjoyed when she was born, his pride and love for her—and for you—radiating from him in everything he did. He had been there for every moment, caring for you both with a tenderness you hadn’t expected but had come to treasure.

But now, only a few months after her birth, you were pregnant once more.

This time, it was different. The signs had been clear early on, and when you had finally confirmed it, the realization had hit you like a wave. Twins. You were carrying twins this time, and though the prospect filled you with excitement, it also brought with it a new layer of worry. You had barely adjusted to life as a mother to one, and now you were about to bring two more children into the world.

Geto had been thrilled when you told him, his eyes lighting up with a rare kind of joy that softened the sharpness of his usual demeanor. “Twins,” he had said, his hand resting gently on your growing belly. “We’re building an empire.”

The words had sent a thrill through you, the idea of raising these children together, of building a family in the midst of the chaos of the sorcerer world, giving you a sense of purpose that you hadn’t known you needed. And yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t ignore the growing danger. You knew that Gojo and Jujutsu High were still out there, that they hadn’t forgotten about you or Geto’s plans. But for now, you were safe—at least as safe as you could be in the world you had chosen.

The new hideout was much brighter than the last. Geto had gone to great lengths to make sure you and your children had a comfortable space, one that felt more like a home than the hideouts of the past. The nursery, once again, was your favorite room—a large, sunlit space filled with soft colors and warm light. It had become your haven, where you spent most of your days, preparing for the arrival of the twins while caring for your daughter.

You were sitting in the rocking chair, your belly round and heavy with the weight of the twins, as your daughter played quietly on the floor nearby. She had her father’s eyes, dark and watchful, and though she was still so young, there was a certain calmness about her that reminded you so much of Geto. It was comforting, knowing that she had inherited his strength, his quiet confidence.

Geto had been gone for a few days on another mission, but he had promised to return soon. The time apart was always difficult, but you knew that these missions were necessary for his plans, for the future he was building. Still, you missed him—missed the quiet moments you shared together, the way he looked at you with that soft intensity that made you feel like the most important person in his world.

As you rocked gently in the chair, your daughter babbling softly to herself as she played, you placed a hand on your belly, feeling the soft movements of the twins inside. It was a strange feeling, carrying two lives within you at once. They shifted and kicked, reminding you constantly of the future that was coming—one that was full of uncertainty but also full of promise.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the room when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. You smiled to yourself, knowing that it could only be one person.

Geto stepped into the room, his presence immediately filling the space with a sense of calm and security. His dark eyes softened when he saw you, his gaze lingering on your swollen belly before moving to your daughter, who looked up at him with a bright smile.

“There’s my little troublemaker,” Geto said softly, crouching down to scoop her up into his arms. She giggled, her tiny hands grabbing onto his shirt as she pressed her face against his chest.

He straightened up, holding her easily in one arm as he turned his attention to you. “And how are you?” His voice was gentle, his eyes filled with concern as he glanced at your belly.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, smiling up at him as he approached. “The twins are restless, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Geto chuckled, a rare sound that warmed your heart. “They’ll be here soon enough,” he said, his free hand reaching out to rest on your belly. His touch was warm, grounding, and you leaned into it, feeling the connection between the three of you—soon to be five.

“Soon,” you echoed softly, your eyes meeting his. “Are you ready for it? Three children in this world?”

Geto’s expression softened, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he looked down at your belly. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. “This is what we’re building, isn’t it? A family. A future.”

His words sent a surge of warmth through you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a deep sense of peace. The world outside might be full of danger and uncertainty, but in this moment, in this room, with Geto and your daughter by your side, you felt safe.

And as you looked into Geto’s eyes, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. You had chosen this path, and with Geto by your side, you would see it through.

The twins shifted inside you, their movements soft and reassuring, and you smiled, knowing that soon, your family would grow even more.

This was the life you had chosen—a life filled with love, with purpose, and with a future you were determined to build.

No matter what came next, you were ready.

The battle for Jujutsu High had been inevitable. You had known for months that it was coming, looming over you like a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. Geto had grown more determined, more driven, in the time since your twins had begun to grow inside you. He was relentless in his pursuit of a new world, one where jujutsu sorcerers ruled with power and clarity, without the burdens of the weak dragging them down.

You had supported him, believed in him, even as your belly grew heavy with the weight of the twins. But there had always been a sense of dread lurking at the back of your mind—a fear that, despite all of his strength, despite his conviction, the day would come when the world would come crashing down around him. Around you.

That day had come.

Geto had set his sights on Yuta Okkotsu, a first-year student at Jujutsu High who possessed a terrifying cursed energy bound to the spirit of Rika Orimoto. Yuta’s power, untrained and unstable, was something Geto believed he could harness—a final piece in his plan to bring down Jujutsu High and reshape the world.

Your daughter was safe in the new hideout, under the watchful eyes of trusted followers, but despite your protests, Geto had insisted that you accompany him. “You’re part of this future too,” he had said, his eyes filled with a dark determination. “I want you by my side when we finally break free.”

And so, at seven months pregnant, you had found yourself on the battlefield, standing in the shadows as Geto led his army of cursed spirits into the heart of Jujutsu High. The battle was chaotic, filled with the crackle of cursed energy, the roars of curses clashing, and the cries of sorcerers fighting for their lives.

At first, it had seemed as though Geto was winning. His army of cursed spirits overwhelmed the defenses of Jujutsu High, pushing deeper and deeper into the school’s grounds. But as the battle raged on, something shifted. Yuta Okkotsu, that boy who had once been so unsure of himself, began to tap into the full power of Rika. The cursed energy that had once seemed chaotic and uncontrollable now surged through him with terrifying precision.

You watched from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest as the tide of the battle turned. Yuta’s strength was growing, and even from where you stood, you could feel the pressure of his cursed energy. And then, in the midst of it all, another familiar presence appeared on the battlefield.

Satoru Gojo.

His appearance was like a bolt of lightning cutting through the chaos, his cursed energy overwhelming everything around him. He moved with effortless grace, cutting through curses and enemies alike, his eyes—piercing blue, unhidden by his blindfold—focused on one person.

Geto.

Your heart clenched as you saw the two of them meet in the center of the battlefield, their cursed energies colliding in a way that shook the very ground beneath them. This was it.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to still. Gojo and Geto stood facing each other, their expressions unreadable, but the weight of their shared history hung between them like a thick fog.

You could only watch as the two men—once friends, now enemies—began to fight.

It was brutal. The clash of their cursed energy was so intense that the air seemed to crackle with power. Every blow, every strike, sent shockwaves through the battlefield, curses and sorcerers alike pushed back by the sheer force of it. You could barely breathe as you watched, your hands instinctively moving to rest on your swollen belly, as if to shield your unborn children from the violence unfolding before you.

But as strong as Geto was, as determined as he had been, there was no denying the truth: Gojo was stronger.

Slowly, but surely, Gojo began to overpower him. Geto fought with everything he had, summoning curses, using his immense skill in manipulating cursed energy, but it wasn’t enough. Gojo’s strength, his precision, was too much.

And then, it happened.

Gojo’s hand moved faster than you could follow, a burst of cursed energy surging from him, striking Geto with devastating force. Time seemed to slow as the impact hit, and for a moment, everything was silent. The world seemed to stop.

Geto staggered back, blood spilling from his wounds, his body shaking as he struggled to stay upright. But it was clear—he had lost.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, the air ripped from your lungs as you watched Geto fall to his knees, his strength finally giving out. Gojo stood over him, his face unreadable, his hand raised as if preparing to deliver the final blow.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. You tried to move, tried to run to Geto’s side, but your body was heavy, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you down. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched the man you had loved, the father of your children, lying defeated before Gojo.

Geto looked up at Gojo, his face pale, but there was a strange calmness in his eyes. He didn’t look afraid. In fact, he almost seemed… relieved.

“You’ve won, Satoru,” Geto said, his voice weak but steady. “But I still believe… in what I’ve done. In what I’ve built.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, no sense of victory. Just a deep, unspoken sadness. “Suguru,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos around them. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

Geto chuckled softly, his breath ragged as he looked up at Gojo one last time. “Maybe not,” he murmured. “But this was the path I chose.”

For a long moment, Gojo didn’t move. He stood there, his hand still raised, his gaze locked onto Geto. You held your breath, praying that somehow, someway, this wouldn’t end the way you feared.

But then, with a single, swift movement, Gojo brought his hand down.

Geto crumpled to the ground, the last of his strength finally leaving him. His body lay still, lifeless, the man who had once been so strong, so full of conviction, now nothing more than a shell.

You fell to your knees, the weight of the moment crashing down on you like a storm. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your belly, your heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Geto was gone. The man you had loved, the father of your children, was gone.

And Gojo… Gojo just stood there, his eyes filled with a grief that mirrored your own.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The battle had ended, but the war was far from over.

With Geto’s death, everything had changed.

The world blurred around you. The battlefield was silent now, the remnants of cursed energy still thick in the air. But none of that mattered. Your eyes were locked on the still form of Suguru Geto, lying crumpled on the ground like a broken doll.

He was gone.

A scream tore from your throat, primal and filled with a grief so deep that it felt like your soul was being ripped apart. You tried to stand, to run to his side, but your legs refused to cooperate. The weight of your seven-month pregnancy made every movement sluggish, and the overwhelming despair crashing over you made it impossible to breathe. Tears blurred your vision as your sobs echoed through the stillness.

“Suguru…”

You could barely choke out his name. The realization hit you again and again, like waves pulling you under, and there was no escape. The twins inside you kicked, their tiny movements a cruel reminder that life continued, even in the face of such loss.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you.

His cursed energy was unmistakable, overwhelming in its intensity, but something in the air had changed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not now, not after what he had done. But you could feel him standing there, staring down at Geto’s body, his own emotions swirling just as violently as yours.

You didn’t need to see his face to know what he was feeling. You had seen it before, years ago, when the friendship between Geto and Gojo had first fractured. The regret. The pain. The weight of a lost bond that neither of them had ever fully reconciled. And now, with Geto lying dead at Gojo’s feet, that grief hung thick in the air.

“Suguru…” Gojo’s voice was barely a whisper, cracking with na emotion that was rare for him. It was filled with something raw, something you had never heard from him before. “Why did it have to end like this?”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the quiet devastation he tried to hide. But your heart was too shattered to care. You didn’t care about his regrets or the pain in his voice. None of it mattered anymore. Geto was gone, and nothing could bring him back.

“You killed him,” you spat, your voice thick with sobs. “You killed him, Gojo!”

Gojo flinched at the accusation, but he didn’t respond. His eyes, still trained on Geto’s body, were filled with something indescribable—a mix of guilt, sorrow, and the weight of na impossible choice. You could see the war inside him, the conflict of someone who had done what he thought was necessary but hated himself for it all the same.

You tried to push yourself up, but the weight of your grief and the physical strain of your pregnancy made it impossible. Every movement felt like trying to swim through mud, your body too heavy with the burden of loss and the life you carried.

Gojo took a step toward you, his hand reaching out as if to help, but you recoiled from him, your entire body trembling with anger and pain. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice venomous. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

Gojo’s hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back, his eyes filled with na overwhelming sense of helplessness. “I didn’t—” he started, his voice faltering, but he didn’t finish the sentence. What could he say? There were no words that could undo what had been done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and oppressive. The battle had ended, but the war inside your heart had only just begun. You clutched your belly, feeling the soft kicks of your unborn twins, a reminder that even in this moment of loss, life persisted. But the thought of raising your children without Geto, without the man who had promised to build a future with you, made the grief that much more unbearable.

Your daughter. She was back at the hideout, safe and unaware of the horror that had unfolded here. But how could you explain this to her? How could you tell her that her father was never coming home?

The thought sent another wave of despair crashing over you, and you doubled over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gojo knelt down beside you, but he kept his distance, not daring to reach out again. His voice was soft, filled with a quiet urgency. “You have to leave, now. It’s not safe for you here.”

You barely heard him. The world around you was spinning, collapsing in on itself. All you could think about was Geto, lying so still, so far from the man who had once been so strong, so full of life.

But Gojo didn’t give up. He leaned closer, his voice firm this time, though still tinged with that uncharacteristic vulnerability. “You can’t stay here. If they find you—if they find the kids…”

The mention of your children snapped something inside you back into place. Despite everything, despite the crushing weight of your grief, you knew he was right. Your twins, your daughter—they were still here, still alive. You had to protect them. You had to survive, even if it felt impossible.

With great effort, you forced yourself to breathe, to focus. The reality of the situation was inescapable. Geto was gone, and staying here would only put you and your children in more danger. You couldn’t let his death be in vain. You couldn’t let your children suffer because of it.

You nodded weakly, not trusting your voice to speak. Gojo watched you carefully, his expression unreadable but filled with something close to relief. He stood and offered you his hand again, more hesitant this time, as though he expected you to reject him once more.

This time, you didn’t.

With trembling fingers, you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The weight of your pregnancy made you unsteady, but Gojo’s hand remained firm, steadying you as you rose. He glanced at your belly, his jaw tightening for a moment before his eyes met yours again.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he said quietly, his voice resolute. “You and the kids. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You wanted to hate him, to push him away, to blame him for everything. But right now, you had no choice. You needed to survive. For your children, if nothing else.

As Gojo led you away from the battlefield, away from the body of the man you loved, you cast one final glance over your shoulder. Geto lay motionless on the ground, the man who had promised you a future, the man who had fought so hard to change the world.

But that future was gone now, shattered like the life you had built together.

All that remained was the uncertain path ahead.

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sosa2imagines · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if would do a short part 2 of Promises made, promises kept where Steve does in fact come back to be with Reader again, realizing his mistake, but finds out that Reader moved on from him and is completely heart broken.😈😏

Warnings- Fluff, angst. 2.2k words.

Disclaimer- Here's part 2 of Promises broken, Promises kept. Hope you like it.

Four years.

That's how long it had been since Steve Rogers decided to go back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter.

In those years, you had found a new normal with Bucky Barnes, a man who had stepped in and provided the stability you and your daughter needed. Your daughter adored Bucky and called him “Pa” without hesitation.

Bucky had been there from the beginning, supporting you through the pain of Steve's departure.

Slowly, an unexpected connection had grown between you and Bucky, a bond forged through shared experiences and a common goal of raising your daughter.

Bucky had become a fixture in your lives, fulfilling each promise he made.

He was there for every milestone, from your daughter's first steps to her first day of school. He comforted her when she was scared, dried her tears when she skinned her knee, and celebrated her triumphs with boundless pride.

On a chilly winter night, a faint cry pierced the silence. In an instant, Bucky was out of bed, his instincts on high alert. He rushed to your his daughter's room, where he found her tossing and turning, caught in the throes of a nightmare.

“Pa!” she cried out, reaching for Bucky with trembling fingers. He was there in an instant, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. “Shh, it's okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet filled with unwavering strength. “I'm here.”

Bucky scooped her up into his arms, rocking her softly as he settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He cradled her close, murmuring hushed reassurances and stroking her hair until her sobs subsided.

As Bucky comforted her, your daughter's words came out between hiccups and sobs. “I had a dream... daddy came to take me away.” Confusion mixed with fear as her little voice quivered.

Bucky's heart clenched at her words. He tightened his hold on her as he tried to steady his voice, masking the whirlwind of emotions within him. “Don't worry, sweetheart. That was just a bad dream. You're safe here, with me.” he assured her, his voice soft yet firm.

Natalia's grip on Bucky tightened as she pleaded her fears, her tiny fingers clinging to his shirt. “Promise me you won't go,” she implored, her voice trembling with vulnerability. “Promise me you'll always be my Pa!”

Bucky's heart ached at her words, his resolve deepening. He gently took her little hands in his, holding them firmly against his chest. “I promise you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination. “I will always be your father, no matter what.”

As your daughter's breathing steadied into a peaceful slumber, Bucky continued to hold her close, his gaze softening. In the quiet of the room, a silent promise echoed in his heart. He vowed to protect her with all his strength, to be the rock she could always rely on.

Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. Your connection with Bucky deepened, a bond forged through shared experiences and mutual trust.

Your daughter blossomed under his love and guidance, and you found solace in his unwavering support. Laughter echoed through the house, and joy filled the air as you built cherished memories together.

But one stormy evening, the knock on your door came unexpected, the sound cutting through the peaceful evening.

As you opened it, your heart skipped a beat. Steve Rogers stood there, a man you hadn't seen in years. The years had marked him, casting shadows on his rugged features. He looked older, more worn, yet unmistakably him.

“Steve...” you said, barely able to hide your surprise.

“I came back.” Steve announced, his voice cold and detached, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. It was as if time had frozen him mid-way between the person he was and who he had become.

“Thought I'd check on what I left behind...” he continued, the words hanging in the air like a silent accusation.

Your daughter, who had been clinging to your leg, peered around your legs, her eyes wide with curiosity at the familiarly unfamiliar figure. “Mommy, who's that?” she asked innocently.

Before you could respond, Bucky stood next to you, his protective instincts immediately on high alert. “Steve,” he said, a mix of surprise and tension in his voice, “what are you doing here?”

Steve's gaze hardened as he glared at Bucky, frustration and jealousy evident in his eyes. “I see you didn't waste any time moving on!” he accused, his voice laced with bitterness.

You stepped forward, placing yourself between them, your heart beating wildly. “Steve, you made your choice...” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “ You chose your life. We had no choice but to find our own path.”

Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, his gaze unwavering as he regarded Steve with a mix of caution and protectiveness. He wouldn't let the man who had hurt you and left you when you were pregnant, intrude on your newfound happiness without a fight.

Steve's gaze shifted to your daughter, a flicker of something indistinguishable crossing his face. “Does she even know who I am?” he asked, a cruel undertone lurking in his voice.

Bucky, ever the rock in your tumultuous life, responded firmly, his voice unwavering. “She knows her family!” he retorted. “And that's all that matters.” His words echoed with years of selfless love and devotion.

Steve's eyes darkened at Bucky's response, his jaw tightening in frustration. The reality of his absence and the changes that had taken place in your lives seemed to dawn on him with a bitter clarity.

Steve's laugh was devoid of any warmth or mirth, a cold, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine. “So, you think you can replace me, Barnes?” he taunted, his tone laced with scorn. “You think you can just waltz in and claim what's mine?”

Steve's jealousy and possessiveness were palpable, his gaze fixated on Bucky. It was as if he saw your family as property that he had discarded and now sought to reclaim.

Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowing at Steve's words. He didn't back down, standing firm in his role as your protector and father figure to your daughter. “This isn't about replacing you!” he countered, his voice steady. “It's about being here for them when you weren't.”

Steve's face darkened at Bucky's candid response, his resentment growing. The reality of his absence and the pain it had caused seemed to hit him all at once, yet his stubborn pride prevented him from fully acknowledging his own shortcomings.

Steve, in a desperate attempt to connect with his estranged daughter, approached her with a forced air of familiarity. “Hey princess...” he started, the pet name sounding hollow in his mouth, “I'm your father, your real father.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications and laced with a mix of guilt and longing. Your daughter, innocent and oblivious to the complex emotions at play, looked up at Steve with wide, unsuspecting eyes.

Relief washed over you as you recalled the conversation you had with your daughter not too long ago. Back then, knowing that Steve's return was a possibility, you had decided to tell her the truth about her father.

However, your daughter had taken that information and formed her own steadfast conviction: Bucky was her father.

Natalia, her small frame trembling slightly, clung to Bucky, her tiny hands holding onto him with unwavering determination. She peered out from behind him, her eyes locking onto Steve. “No!” she proclaimed with a defiant pout. “This is my Pa.”

Bucky's heart swelled with gratitude and pride as he felt Natalia cling to him, her tiny hands holding onto him with childlike determination. He gently placed his own hand over hers, a silent promise to shield her from any harm, whether it came from Steve or anyone else.

Steve, his ego bruised and his emotions in turmoil, couldn't hide the anger that surged through him. His face twisted with frustration, and his voice laced with a mix of bitterness and entitlement, he snapped, “She's my daughter! I have a right to see her.”

Before you or Bucky could respond, Steve's attention turned to your daughter again. His voice was laced with a possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine. “I'm your father!” he yelled, his tone filled with a mix of desperation and frustration. “Not him!”

Natalia, young and innocent, jumped in fright at his raised voice, her small frame trembling with fear.

Bucky, his protective instincts on high alert, wouldn't stand for anyone, not even Steve, scaring his daughter. Seeing Natalia tremble with fear, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding her from Steve's tumultuous presence.

Bucky's stance was unwavering, his body tensed and ready to protect Natalia at all costs. His loyalty to her and her well-being outshone any lingering attachment he might have had to Steve. In that moment, it was clear that nothing was more important to him than keeping her safe and shielded from harm.

Your voice, filled with unwavering conviction, cut through the tension. “Steve,” you said, your tone firm yet laced with a mix of hurt and anger, “enough. You left. You chose differently. You don't get to barge back into our lives and question the choices we had to make to move forward. Bucky has been here, through thick and thin, supporting us, loving us. You gave up that right when you walked away.”

Steve's face visibly tensed, his features contorting with a cocktail of regret and simmering resentment. The weight of his own choices seemed to settle heavily upon him, as your words hit their mark. After a palpable pause, he muttered, “Maybe I made a mistake coming here.”

The silence that stretched between you all was filled with a myriad of emotions - regret, longing, anger, and frustration. Bucky, standing steadfastly by your side, was a silent pillar of strength, his presence a testament to the bond you had forged in the wake of Steve's absence.

Bucky, his voice steady and resolute, “This isn't about making things right or reclaiming what's yours, Steve,” he said, his tone unwavering. “It's about what's best for them.” His eyes glinted with a mix of protectiveness and affection as he glanced at you and Natalia, his unspoken promise to always protect them evident in his demeanor.

Bucky's words carried weight, each syllable imbued with the depth of his commitment. “You had your chance,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “You made your choice, and we made ours. Now it's time for you to decide what's important to you - your past mistakes or their happiness.”

The room seemed to still, the intensity of Bucky's words hanging in the air. You could see the impact they had on Steve, his face etched with a mix of guilt and defiance, as if struggling to reconcile the reality of his actions with the life you and Natalia had built without him.

“You broke your promises, Steve,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and heartache. “You said you'd always be there, that you'd come back. But you didn't.” A pause hung in the air, the weight of your words palpable.

“Bucky,” you continued, your voice softening with gratitude, “he kept all of his promises. He was there for us, every step of the way.”

The weight of your words settled heavily in the room, emphasizing the contrast between Steve's broken vows and Bucky's unwavering loyalty.

Steve's gaze darted between you and Bucky, the weight of his actions sinking in. His voice lowered slightly, laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. “Fine,” he acquiesced, his tone softer yet tinged with bitterness. “But don't expect me to just disappear.” His words hung in the air, a mix of defiance and regret, hinting at his unwillingness to be completely shut out of the lives he had walked away from.

As Steve turned to leave, a flicker of realization crossed his face, a glimpse at the magnitude of what he had lost. The sound of the door closing behind him marked the finality of his departure, an indictment of his own choices. In the silence that followed, the weight of his loss and the solitude that was now his own doing became painfully apparent.

You found solace in Bucky's embrace, his warmth a balm to the chill left by Steve's presence. His arms encircled you, offering solace and security in the aftermath of the tumultuous encounter.

“We've got each other,” Bucky whispered, his voice a warm whisper against your skin, as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The tumultuous storm outside mirrored the chaos of emotions stirred by Steve's visit, but in that moment, wrapped in Bucky's embrace, you found peace and certainty.

“That's all we need.” he murmured, emphasizing the bond that had grown between you. And amid the echoes of your past, your heart and future now stood firm in the present, fortified by your love for Bucky.

Natalia, her little hands tugging at Bucky's pant leg, looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Up, up!” she giggled, her voice sweet and eager. Bucky's face lit up with an affectionate smile as he scooped her up into his arms, lifting her up high with a hearty laugh.

Without hesitation, you stepped into the embrace, snaking your arms around both Natalia and Bucky, completing the circle of love. In that moment, as you clung to one another, you felt a profound sense of unity, a sense of being a family beyond blood or circumstance.

Meanwhile as Steve walked away from your doorstep, a heaviness settled upon him. The weight of his choices and the broken promises echoed loudly in the emptiness of his solitude. Although he couldn't change the past, he held onto a glimmer of hope that someday, he might find a place in his daughter's life.

However, for now, he was left to navigate the consequences of his actions, the storm of his loneliness mirroring the storm that had passed through your home.

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kckt88 · 2 months ago

Text

Scorched Hearts I.

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Aemond Targayren and Valaena Velaryon embark on a secret romance that defies their families and the realm. Bound by love they defy the odds and risk everything to be together.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V,

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4610

A.N - Covering certain events from season 1.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Prince Aemond Targaryen stood at the entrance of a small, weathered wooden cabin, his lithe frame outlined against the fading light of the overcast sky.

His arms were crossed over his chest, his singular violet eye gleaming as he gazed out into the darkening horizon.

Beside him, the ancient and formidable Vhagar, furrowed her massive wings, and shook her head as she kept a watchful, protective gaze on her rider.

A sudden sound split the air—the roar of another dragon approaching. Instantly alert, Vhagar let out a low, dangerous growl, her massive form rising as she reared up, nostrils flaring as she fixated on the newcomer.

“Embrot, Vhagar. Lykirī!” Aemond commanded, his voice steady but firm (Down, Be calm).

Vhagar huffed, her warning fading as she obeyed, lowering her enormous head. Her exhale scattered the bushes below, the wind from her breath also rustling the trees nearby.

Aemond smirked, as the dragon Silverwing now descended from the sky, her gleaming scales catching the brief flashes of moonlight through the clouds.

The ground shook beneath his feet as the dragon landed with a heavy thud, and Aemond’s gaze softened as he watched her rider, Valaena, gracefully unhook her riding chains and with effortless precision, she slid down Silverwing's wing, landing lightly on her feet.

Without hesitation, Aemond crossed the distance between them, his stride quick as his heart raced with joy. He wrapped Valaena in his arms, holding her tightly against him as he peppered kisses all over her face.

"I thought you weren’t coming," he murmured, his voice filled with the vulnerability he reserved for her alone.

Valaena smiled, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “Nothing could keep me from your arms.”

She pressed into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent, the smell of fire and lavender. His hand captured hers, and together they walked inside the cabin.

The warm glow of a fire greeted them, casting flickering shadows over a small table where Aemond had arranged a small spread of food.

From behind, he slid his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d be hungry, so I gathered what I could,” he murmured softly.

She turned her head slightly, smiling as she replied, “It’s not food I hunger for.”

A low chuckle escaped Aemond’s lips, his smile wide and unguarded. In a swift motion, he spun her around to face him, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

Valaena wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together as the tension and longing between them melted away.

Aemond’s fingers worked quickly, undoing the laces and buckles of her riding leathers, the material slipping to the floor in soft whispers.

Her hands followed suit, tugging at his own riding leathers until they fell to the ground. They stood bare before each other, the firelight playing over their skin.

Aemond gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his voice low and reverent as he whispered, “I love you.”

Valaena’s fingers traced the scar on his cheek, her touch tender and knowing. Slowly, she reached for the strap of his eyepatch and slipped it off, revealing the sapphire where his eye had once been.

“And I love you, my gevie zaldrīzes,” she whispered, her gaze unwavering as she held him close. (Beautiful dragon).

Aemond smiled, his lips brushing against hers as he led her backward, their kisses deepening until they fell onto the bed.

Valaena shuddered as Aemond began gently nipping and sucking her skin as he descended down her body, he stopped at her breasts and pressed his face between them, his large hands kneading the soft flesh.

However, he pulled away when she hissed in pain, his brow furrowed with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-they just feel a little tender” replied Valaena.

Aemond nodded his head and gently sucked a rosy nipple into his mouth, delighting in Valaena’s whimper, he released the stiffened peak with a soft pop before he moved to the other and lavished it with the same attention.

“Sīr gevie-” moaned Aemond as he moved further down (So beautiful).

“A-Aemond” breathed Valaena as his hands slid around her thighs and held them open, his hot breath tickling her as he ran his tongue over her wet folds.

“Ñuha nūmio-” rasped Aemond as he ran his fingers through her dripping folds as he expertly devoured her with his mouth, his nose bumping against her as fucked her with his tongue (My pearl).

“Fuck,” squeaks Valaena as she grasps at the back of Aemond’s head, her fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place.

“You’re so sensitive. Are you going to come already?” asked Aemond smugly.

“Y-Yes. Oh gods right there” whimpers Valaena rolling her hips against Aemond’s face.

Aemond alternates between using his fingers and tongue to rapidly bring Valaena to her peak.

She arches her back as she comes, squirting over Aemond’s face as he gently licks her pearl.

“Is that you done, or do you want more?” asked Aemond playfully, his chin shining with her slick.

“M-More, please” gasps Valaena as Aemond reaches forward and presses a kiss to her pearl before he quickly wipes his chin with his hand and putting his fingers in his mouth .

“A-Aemond” gasps Valaena her cheeks tinged pink.

Aemond smirks as he moves in between Valaena open legs, taking his cock in hand and rubbing the pink head over her slick entrance.

“P-Please. Don’t t-tease m-me” gasps Valaena.

Aemond pushes in slowly and pausing to give her a moment to adapt.

After pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, Aemond pulls out slowly and slides back in, his pace gentle and steady.

“Oh, please-please fuck me hard” mutters Valaena.

“You want it?”

“Y-Yes. I want it. I want all of you-I need you” whined Valaena.

Aemond lets out a pleased grunt and slams into Valaena hard, smiling as she lets out a scream of pleasure.

The pace he sets is brutal, his hips slapping against hers.

Valaena moaned desperately, as she moves her hips to meet his, attempting to allow his cock to reach deeper within her.

Aemond gets the hint, and quickly lifts her legs over his shoulders, using the new angle to drive his cock even deeper than before.

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes, don’t stop-oh god. Please-please-”

Valaena praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her, the headboard banging against the wall from the force of his movements.

“Aemond, please, I’m close” whimpers Valaena.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs her pearl in slow circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“I never want to leave this sweet cunt–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Valaena comes with a loud, scream, her body shaking underneath Aemond’s as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“J-Just a little longer-fuck I’m going to-” groans Aemond as he slams into Valaena before reaching his own peak, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moved Valaena’s legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes, his cock still twitching.

“I-I wasn’t too rough, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. I-It was wonderful” exclaimed Valaena, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, his singular eye fixated on the drops of seed that spill out.

He takes a finger to Valaena’s opening and pushes his seed back inside, delighting in her moan of surprise.

He leans over to press a gentle kiss to her lips, before bringing his finger to his own mouth and sucking it clean.

Aemond laid down on the bed and pulled Valaena to him.

“Not tired, are you?” asked Aemond curiously as Valaena lays her head on his chest.

Valaena looked up at him and smiled as she shook her head.

“Good, because as soon as I am able. I want to have you again-”.

In the quiet aftermath of their shared intimacy, Aemond and Valaena lay entwined beneath the cotton sheet.

The soft crackling of the flames filled the room, a gentle backdrop to the silence between them.

Aemond had his arm wrapped securely around her, while Valaena rested her head on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing invisible patterns across his skin. She seemed lost in thought, her breath steady but her mind elsewhere.

“We’ll be setting sail for King’s Landing on the morrow,” she murmured, her voice soft but weighted with the responsibility that awaited them. “-To defend Jace’s claim to Driftmark.”

Aemond inhaled deeply, the tension momentarily tightening his muscles. “I know.”

Valaena let out a small sigh, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Of course, you do.”

Aemond shifted onto his side, bringing them face to face as his hand gently cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed tenderly along her skin, as he gazed at her with a mix of concern and understanding.

“Lord Corlys is injured,” he began, “-and it’s uncertain if he will survive. Vaemond has every right to challenge for the right to rule Driftmark.”

Valaena’s expression tightened, her brow furrowing. “But my brother is the named heir. If our grandsire passes, then it should be Jace who takes his seat at High Tide.”

“That may be so,” Aemond replied softly, his voice even, “but Vaemond still has the right to challenge it. He and Lord Corlys do share—”

“-Share what, Aemond?” Valaena interrupted sharply, sitting up as she turned to face him. “Blood? Is that what you were going to say?”

Aemond hesitated, the truth heavy between them. “Yes,” he muttered, his voice low.

Valaena sighed deeply, running her hands through her hair before resting her head in them. “I know what I am,” she said quietly, her tone laced with bitterness. “What everyone whispers about me and my brothers. But we didn’t ask for this. We didn’t ask for any of it.”

Aemond reached out, his hand gliding up the curve of her back until he gripped her shoulder gently.

With a soft tug, he pulled her back down into his arms. “I know,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her hair.

She pressed her face into his chest, her voice muffled as she spoke again. “But do you, though? There’s no one questioning your legitimacy. No one points and jibes at you for not having Targaryen features. If it weren’t for Silverwing, I could pass for a commoner.”

“Don’t say that,” Aemond replied firmly, his hand lifting her chin so he could meet her eyes. “Never say that. You may not have the silver hair, but you have the violet eyes of a Targaryen—the most wondrous, beautiful eyes-you are unique in your own right.”

Valaena let out a small, humourless laugh. “That’s not what you say about my brothers.”

Aemond smirked. “Because I don’t love your brothers.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, heavy and reflective. Valaena's voice softened to a whisper. “Sometimes I hate her.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened. “Who?”

“My mother,” Valaena answered, her voice trembling slightly. “For the shadow she’s cast upon me and my brothers. I often wonder-did she not consider how we would look when she took Ser Harwin to her bed? Did she not think about the chance we might look different?”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he considered her words. “Mayhaps, she thought you would resemble her more, in terms of colouring.”

Valaena scoffed softly, shaking her head. “Three times, Aemond. Three of us, and not one favours her. If it weren’t for the King’s wilful blindness, I wouldn’t be here. Neither would my brothers.”

Aemond pulled her even closer, his arms tightening around her as if to shield her from the weight of the world.

His voice was quiet, but filled with emotion. “On this occasion, I’m glad for my father’s incapability to see the obvious. Because I shudder to think what my life would be like without you.”

Valaena tilted her head to look at him, her heart swelling as she whispered, “I love you so much.”

Aemond smiled, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

After lying together in a moment of peace, Aemond and Valaena made love once more.

The air between them was thick with the heat of passion and the deep connection that neither could deny.

When it was over, they lay together for a moment longer, breathless and content, before reluctantly pulling themselves back into the world outside their shared moment.

Aemond was the first to rise, his movements quiet as he began to dress, his sharp features highlighted in the flickering light.

Valaena followed, pulling her riding leathers back over her body. Aemond moved to the fire and, with a slow exhale, doused the flames, plunging the room into cool darkness.

Once she was finished Valaena waited at the door and waited for Aemond, he put his eyepatch back on as he left the cabin and locked the door before fastening the key to a chain around his neck.

He looked over at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “At least one good thing about this petition—” he began, “we can be together in King’s Landing.”

Valaena finished adjusting her gloves and looked at him, her brow arching in playful doubt. “Do you think that’s wise? What if they catch us? We’re supposed to hate each other, remember?”

Aemond’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “I’m willing to take the risk. I will not pass up the chance to have you in my own bed.”

Valaena chuckled, her tone teasing as she replied, “So, you’re saying you don’t love our little cabin?”

Aemond crossed the room and took her hands, pulling her into his embrace. “I’d love a stable if it meant being with you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple, “but just for once, I want to have you in my chambers. A place I consider my sanctuary—away from Aegon’s drunken whoring and my father’s indifference.”

Valaena’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as she rested her cheek against his chest. “I’d be honoured. It has, after all, been many years since I’ve stayed in the Red Keep.”

Aemond pressed his forehead gently against hers, his voice low and filled with longing. “Don’t I know it. So many years I’ve spent longing to have you by my side again, as you once were when we were children.”

Valaena kissed him softly, her fingers stroking the scar on his cheek with a tenderness that only she could offer. “It feels like a lifetime ago-when you were that sweet little boy.”

Aemond interrupted with a chuckle, “And you were that annoying little girl who would sneak into the kitchens and steal sweets for us to share.”

Valaena laughed at the memory. “Do you remember our hiding spot in the bushes?”

Aemond nodded, a small, bittersweet smile forming on his lips. “I do. After you left for Dragonstone, I used to sit there sometimes. I’d close my eyes and pretend you were sitting next to me. For a little while, I could fool myself into thinking you were really there. But then I’d open my eyes, and-I’d remember that you had been taken away from me.”

Valaena’s expression softened, her hand cupping his face as she promised, “I’ll never let that happen again.”

Aemond kissed her deeply, his hands cradling her face as though to anchor her to him, as if letting her go would be too painful to bear.

But duty called, and he knew it was time. Together, they stepped outside into the cool night air, the moon casting a silvery glow over the clearing.

Valaena approached Silverwing, who trilled affectionately at her rider’s arrival. With a smile, Valaena placed her gloved hands on Silverwing’s scaled head.

“Jēda naejot jikagon lenton riña,” she whispered gently (Time to go home, girl).

Silverwing nudged her affectionately, her massive form shifting as she prepared to take flight. Aemond stood nearby, watching with admiration as Valaena moved with grace and familiarity, commanding her dragon with ease.

“I shall see you in King’s Landing,” said Aemond, his voice firm with promise.

Valaena nodded, giving him one last kiss before she climbed onto Silverwing’s lowered shoulder, attaching herself to the saddle with practiced efficiency.

With that, Silverwing opened her immense wings, the moonlight illuminating her gleaming silver scales as she leapt into the sky.

Aemond watched as they disappeared into the clouds, his heart both heavy and light at the same time.

Turning to Vhagar, who stood waiting with a patient yet powerful presence, Aemond smiled at the dragon. “īlva pālegon uēpa riña” he said softly (Our turn, old girl).

Vhagar exhaled a hot breath from her nostrils, the warm air swirling around them as Aemond climbed the rope ladder attached to her saddle.

Once seated, he cast one more look at the night sky, where Valaena had vanished moments ago. Settling into the saddle, he gave Vhagar the command to fly.

With a mighty roar, the ancient dragon spread her wings and launched into the night, carrying Aemond back to King’s Landing—and toward whatever awaited them there.

Valaena stood on the deck of the ship, her violet eyes fixed on the Red Keep as it loomed in the distance.

The wind tousled her long dark hair, and she breathed in the salty air, her mind a storm of thoughts. She had not set foot in King’s Landing in years, and though the sight of the castle stirred memories of her youth, it also brought with it a gnawing sense of unease.

The sound of footsteps broke her reverie, and she turned to see her brother, Jace, come to a stop beside her. His hands were clasped in front of him, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something close to frustration.

“So,” Jace began, his voice casual but probing, “-are you going to tell me where you were last night?”

Valaena raised a brow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “I don’t recall my whereabouts being any business of yours, little brother.”

Jace sighed, shaking his head. “You are Mother’s heir, Valaena. You cannot simply go gallivanting off alone whenever you please.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Valaena retorted, turning her gaze back to the sea. “I was with Silverwing.”

“That’s beside the point,” Jace said, his tone firmer now. “You’ve been disappearing a lot lately”

Valaena shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I get bored being holed up on Dragonstone. I’ve no need for lessons from Maester Gerardys on High Valyrian, as I’m already more than proficient. And if I have to hear the words duty and conduct from my septa one more time, I’ll scream.”

Jace let out a small chuckle. “Are those lessons not for your benefit?”

Valaena shot him a warning look, her eyes gleaming with mock threat. “I swear I will throw you overboard, if you carry on.”

Jace laughed, a full, genuine sound that lightened the tension between them. “Good luck trying, sister. You’d join me in the waters of Blackwater Bay if you attempted it.”

Valaena’s lips twitched into a smile, and she arched an eyebrow. “Care to test that theory?”

Jace raised his hands in surrender, the playful banter easing the weight that had been pressing on her chest.

“There was something else I actually wanted to ask you”

“Ok” replied Valaena cocking her head to the side.

“I know you saw Maester Gerardys before we left-is everything ok?”

Valaena took a slow deep breath and nodded “I-I was just feeling a little unwell”.

“But are you ok?” asked Jace as he took her hand.

“I’ll be fine-don’t worry about me” said Valaena smiling softly.

“As long as you’re sure"

Valaena nodded and put her head on Jace’s shoulder, the two of them standing in silence as they gazed at the silhouette of the Red Keep in the distance.

Soon they interrupted by Daemon, his silver hair billowing in the wind. His hand rested on the hilt of Dark Sister, as it often did, his presence commanding as ever.

“We’ll be arriving soon,” Daemon said, his eyes scanning the horizon before flicking back to his stepchildren.

Valaena and Jace nodded in acknowledgment, though both could feel the tension mounting with each passing mile toward King’s Landing.

Daemon stepped closer, his voice lowering as he spoke with an edge of caution. “Keep a sharp eye while you’re in the Red Keep. No doubt, even the walls have grown ears under the Hightowers’ rule.”

Jace frowned slightly. “Do you think Vaemond will be successful in displacing me as heir to Driftmark?”

Daemon’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “With those green cunts in charge, anything is possible. But you must keep faith that your mother will put an end to this mummer’s farce.”

Valaena, her arms crossed as she stared at the looming Red Keep, added quietly, “It depends on who sits in judgment of Jace’s claim.”

As she turned to walk away, Daemon’s hand shot out, resting firmly on her shoulder. His eyes bore into hers, the weight of his words heavy.

“Questioning Jace’s claim is to question his legitimacy. And by extension, yours. Including your own claim to the Iron Throne. Be mindful of today’s events, Valaena. We are stepping foot into a viper’s nest.”

Valaena’s throat tightened at the reminder. She nodded, her gaze softening just a little before Daemon released her. With a sigh, she retreated below deck, seeking some respite from the storm that was to come.

Inside the dimly lit cabin, she found her younger brother Lucerys hunched over a bucket, his face pale as he retched into it. Valaena's heart softened at the sight of him. She grabbed a cloth from nearby and knelt beside him, offering it to him with a gentle smile.

Lucerys took it gratefully, wiping his mouth as he muttered a sheepish “Thank you.”

Valaena sat beside him, rubbing small circles on his back to soothe him. “You’ll get your sea legs one day, Luce,” she said with a quiet chuckle, trying to lighten his misery.

Lucerys let out a weak laugh before grimacing again. “I just hope I survive the voyage.”

Valaena smiled softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We’ll survive more than just this voyage, brother. We always do.”

But as the ship sailed closer to the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but wonder if they truly would.

Valaena, Jace, and Luke descended the stone steps of the Red Keep, their boots echoing in the familiar training yard below.

The atmosphere was tense yet oddly nostalgic as they walked down, the clang of metal clashing filling the air, the Kings guard sparring under the watchful eyes of squires and lords alike.

Jace, ever the optimist, seemed excited to be back at the Red Keep. His eyes sparkled with the memories of their childhood.

“Come on,” he urged, a grin tugging at his lips as he rushed ahead of them toward the old gates of the yard.

As Valaena and Luke caught up, Jace eagerly ran a hand along the stone wall, touching a particular dent in the stone.

“See? Told you this would still be here,” he said triumphantly. “And you thought you could swing Criston’s morningstar.”

Valaena raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You almost took your own head off.”

Luke smiled at the memory but stayed close to a weapons chest, his apprehension clear as his eyes flitted across the busy yard.

Valaena reached over, ruffling his hair in an attempt to ease his nerves. “Relax, Luke,” she whispered.

But the stares from the gathered nobles and knights were hard to ignore, their whispers following the three of them like shadows.

Jace returned, more interested in the rows of weapons than the attention they were attracting. He began picking up swords, axes, and spears, testing their weight in his hands with a boyish excitement.

Meanwhile, Luke caught sight of the onlookers, his earlier smile fading into unease as he tugged at Valaena’s sleeve.

"They're all staring at us,” Luke muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with discomfort.

Valaena’s violet eyes flickered toward the crowd. The murmurs—the questioning stares—angered her.

She turned sharply to a pair of older nobles whispering too loudly and snapped, “Surely there are more important things to be whispering about!”

The elderly lord and lady jumped, their faces paling as they scurried away from the training yard, their curiosity not worth the risk of Valaena’s wrath.

Jace grabbed her arm gently, pulling her attention back to him. “What’s your problem?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Before Valaena could respond, Luke interrupted in a quiet voice, “Everyone is staring at us.”

Jace shrugged, nonchalant. “So what? Let them. Why should it matter?”

Luke hesitated, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. “Does it not bother you-that people question our legitimacy?”

Jace’s expression hardened for a moment, then softened into something dismissive. “No. Why should it?”

Luke looked down at his feet. “It would be easier if we all looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon,” he muttered, “and less like-Harwin Strong.”

Valaena glanced between her brothers, her voice steady but firm. “It doesn’t matter what they think. Isn’t that what Mother always tells us?”

Luke nodded, but his unease remained palpable. Before any of them could say more, the sound of splintering wood and cheering drew their attention.

They followed the noise toward a small crowd gathering at the edge of the yard. Valaena’s heart skipped a beat as they pushed through the onlookers to the front, her breath catching in her throat.

There, in the centre of the ring, was Aemond. He moved with deadly precision, sparring against Ser Criston Cole.

Criston’s morningstar swung down with brutal force, shattering Aemond’s shield in a shower of splinters. Yet, even with only a sword left in his hand, Aemond was unfazed.

He dodged Criston’s strikes with fluid grace, each movement calculated, until he manoeuvred the blade to Criston’s chest.

The crowd erupted in applause as Ser Criston dropped his morningstar, breathing heavily. “Well done, my prince,” Criston said, his tone respectful and impressed. “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

Aemond, with a smug smile said “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” as he twirled the sword in his hand, his gaze sweeping the yard—until it landed on Valaena.

His violet eye gleamed with recognition, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked. His smile softened as he acknowledged her presence with a sharp nod.

“Nephews,” Aemond called, his voice loud and clear, his tone laced with a subtle challenge. “Have you come to train?”

Before anyone could respond, the call to open the gates rang out across the yard.

The tension shifted, and all eyes turned toward the massive gates as they swung open, revealing Vaemond Velaryon flanked by his guards and supporters.

His presence brought a chill to the air, a palpable hostility that washed over the yard like a wave.

As Vaemond and his retinue passed by, he spared no effort to mask his disdain. His dark eyes glared at Valaena, Jace, and Luke with open contempt.

Luke instinctively lowered his head, his nerves getting the better of him.

But Valaena held her ground, her violet gaze sharp and unwavering as she stared back at Vaemond, unwilling to show any submission.

TBC

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shapard · 17 days ago

Text

Sweet Delusion🌙

Lucifer x fem!reader

Sucker

Tw: Death, miscarriage, Violence (a lot), traumatic events, reader going Harley, Harley is a warning itself, Angst

Chapter 3 < Chapter 4 > Chapter 5

Story begins under the cut

Your laughter rang out like a soft melody, filling the cozy little café you and Sharen frequented.

The warm glow of the hanging lights bathed the space in a golden hue, casting a soft shine over his impossibly perfect features. His golden hair caught the light just right, accentuating the sharp angle of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his eyes. How had you gotten so lucky?

It had been a month since you and Sharen had made it official, and every day since had felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. He wasn’t just attentive—he was thoughtful in ways that left you breathless. The flowers he sent weren’t just bouquets; each arrangement seemed to carry a message. The letters he wrote weren’t just words on paper but pieces of his heart laid bare for you. And the dates? Every single one was magic, from moonlit strolls to surprise candlelit dinners under the stars.

Today was no different. You sat across from him, sipping on a perfectly brewed latte, as he leaned closer, his smile soft and inviting. His presence had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“And then Darien said we should go find a woman for him because he feels so lonely,” you said between fits of laughter, clutching your stomach as you recalled the ridiculousness of the moment. Sharen chuckled, his deep, velvety voice melting into the warm air around you.

“You’re cruel, you know that? Laughing at Darien’s misery like that,” he teased, though the sparkle in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying your happiness.

“I can’t help it,” you said, grinning. “It was just so unexpected!”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from smiling so much, but you didn’t care. Sharen had this way of making you feel alive, truly alive, like he saw you in a way no one else ever had. He didn’t just love you—he cherished you, celebrated you. You’d never known love could be like this, an endless cycle of giving and receiving that left you dizzy with joy.

The feeling was intoxicating, like riding a roller coaster at its peak, the rush of adrenaline and exhilaration so powerful you almost forgot to breathe.

You glanced over at him again, and for a moment, it felt surreal. His golden hair fell perfectly against his forehead, his lips curving into that easy smile you’d come to adore. How had someone like him chosen you? How had this beauty—inside and out—become yours?

“Are you even listening to me, hun?” His voice broke through your thoughts, and you startled, realizing he’d leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours, his warm breath tickling your skin. Had he always been this close?

“I—I am,” you stammered, your voice a little breathless.

Sharen tilted his head, his amber eyes narrowing playfully. “Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” he said, his smile quirking mischievously. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

You giggled, the sound light and effortless, and he joined you, the two of you dissolving into laughter that felt like it could chase away any shadow.

For a moment, the world outside the café ceased to exist. It was just you and him, the aroma of coffee and pastries wrapping around you like a cocoon, the steady hum of conversation fading into the background.

As your laughter subsided, Sharen reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. His fingers were warm, strong yet gentle, as they entwined with yours. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, a simple gesture that sent sparks up your arm.

“You know,” he began, his voice softer now, almost tender, “seeing you happy like this... it makes everything worth it.”

Your heart fluttered, the sincerity in his words wrapping around you like a blanket. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I mean it,” he continued, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “You deserve this, Y/n. All of it. Every flower, every letter, every moment like this.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep inside, and squeezed his hand. “And you deserve it too, Sharen. You’ve given me so much... more than I ever thought I could have.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside moved on, but in that little café, time seemed to slow, stretching out this perfect moment between you. You wished it could stay like this forever, this feeling of safety, love, and warmth cocooning the both of you.

If this was a dream, you thought, let me never wake up.

_______

Two years. Two beautiful years, and your love for Sharen had only grown deeper with every passing day. The two of you had become inseparable, like two halves of the same soul, woven together so tightly that the thought of being apart felt unimaginable.

Sharen’s hand was warm against yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing tenderly against yours. The kiss was soft, unhurried, filled with a quiet affection that made your heart flutter every time. “I have a surprise for you, mon chéri,” he murmured against your lips, his golden eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper—something unspoken.

You smiled, letting him guide you outside into the cool evening air. The sky was painted in shades of twilight, and the shimmering lights from the pool danced across the surface like tiny stars. The moment felt almost too perfect, as though the universe itself had conspired to bring this scene to life.

Sharen stopped near the pool’s edge, turning to face you. His hands were trembling slightly as they cradled yours, and the weight of his gaze made your chest tighten. He seemed nervous—an unfamiliar look on a man who was usually so composed.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for so long,” he began, his voice low, each word deliberate. “But I needed it to be the right time. And now... now, I know it is.”

Confused but intrigued, you tilted your head, your e/c eyes searching his face. “What is it, Sharen?”

He exhaled deeply, as though steeling himself for what was to come. Then, with a sudden, graceful motion, he sank to one knee.

Your heart stopped.

“I love you, Y/n,” he said, his voice steady now, but his eyes glistened with emotion. “I always have, and I always will. You are the light of my life, my goddess. Just one look into your eyes makes me the happiest man alive.” He paused, his free hand reaching into his pocket to reveal a small velvet box. “So, I’m asking this to the one and only person who holds my heart…”

The box snapped open to reveal a stunning ring, the diamond catching the pool’s lights and scattering them in every direction.

“Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over before you could even think to stop them. You nodded, your voice trembling as you gasped out, “Oh my god, YES!”

Sharen’s hands were gentle but firm as he slipped the ring onto your shaking finger. In the next instant, you were in his arms, his embrace warm and steady as he held you tightly, grounding you in the whirlwind of emotion. You buried your face in his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt as you whispered, “I love you, Sharen.”

“I love you more,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to the top of your head. In his arms, you felt something you’d never truly known before: peace.

The day of the wedding was like a dream brought to life. The venue shimmered with golden hues, filled with the laughter of friends and family. Sharen’s entire family was there, their warmth and love enveloping you, and your closest friends stood by your side, sharing in your happiness.

But there was a twinge of sadness that you couldn’t completely push away. Your mother wasn’t here—and perhaps, deep down, you’d known she never would be.

“You’re a disgrace to the family.”

The venomous words echoed faintly in your mind, a shadow that hadn’t entirely faded. Your nails dug into your palm, grounding yourself as you forced those memories away. That torment was over.

No more.

There would be no more nights crying into a pillow, no more eating what she forced out of you, no more cruel barbs that left scars deeper than you could bear. You were free now. Free to build a life filled with love, warmth, and joy.

And at the center of it all was Sharen

He stood beside you now, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His touch was tender, yet it held a quiet strength, as if he knew how much you needed him in this moment. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look breathtaking, mon amour.”

Your chest swelled with emotion as you turned to look at him. His golden eyes were filled with so much love, so much adoration, that it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

Your life was perfect now. No more fighting. No more pain. Only him. Only love.

And as the two of you danced beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by those who celebrated your happiness, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. Forever.

_______

Your hands were trembling, slick with sweat and blood. Everything around you was a haze of crimson—splattered walls, dripping curtains, and the sticky pool at your feet that clung to your shoes with every move. The gun in your hand felt impossibly heavy, its barrel still smoking as it gleamed under the dim, flickering light. At your feet lay a lifeless woman, her once vibrant eyes now dull and vacant, her face frozen in a mask of terror.

A strangled, broken laugh tore from your throat, bouncing off the suffocating silence of the room. It was a sound that didn’t feel like your own, an awful mix of hysterical laughter and soul-shaking sobs. Your chest heaved with the weight of emotions clawing at you from the inside—grief, guilt, rage, and despair blending into an unbearable cacophony.

You hadn’t wanted this. You never wanted to take another life. You weren’t a murderer. But it didn’t matter. You had done it.

Because it’s what he wanted.

“I just... I just wanted him back,” you whimpered to no one, your voice raw and trembling. “The real Sharen. The caring Sharen. The man who loved me…” Your words dissolved into a guttural sob as you looked at your hands—shaking, bloodied, foreign.

But Sharen wasn’t that man anymore. He had become a monster, a hollow version of the man you loved. And to keep even the faintest glimmer of that love alive, you’d done unspeakable things for him. You’d slept with strangers to satisfy his whims. You’d pulled the trigger to line his pockets with blood money. All for him.

Your clothes clung to your skin, soaked through with the sticky warmth of the woman’s blood. The metallic tang filled your nose, making you gag. Your body felt as if it were crumbling under the weight of your crimes, yet your heart screamed for the life you had lost.

“For us!” you cried out, your voice echoing through the empty house. Your trembling hand went to your stomach, clutching protectively at the small swell there.

Lucifer watched in silence, unseen within the boundaries of your memory. His crimson eyes widened with horror as realization struck him like a lightning bolt. “She’s pregnant…” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. His hand flew to his mouth, unable to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. He wanted to save you, to pull you out of this nightmare, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He was trapped in your memory, forced to watch your pain unfold like a gruesome play.

“You don’t deserve this, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “They care about you—Charlie, the others—they love you. Please, hold on.” But his words fell into the void, unheard and unacknowledged.

Your steps were heavy, dragging across the bloodstained floor as you made your way to the bedroom. Each footfall echoed in the silent house like the tolling of a death knell. Your hand hesitated on the cold iron door handle, but you pushed forward, your trembling grip turning it.

The sight inside was a knife to your already bleeding heart.

There he was. Sharen. The man you had given your heart, your body, your soul to. And he was entwined with another woman, their limbs tangled in an embrace so intimate it made your stomach churn.

“Sharen?” Your voice was weak, breaking on his name. You looked at him, your bloodied hands trembling at your sides, your hollow eyes pleading.

Sharen froze for a moment, his golden hair tousled and his perfect face clouded with irritation. He slipped away from the woman, wrapping a robe around his body with casual ease. His eyes scanned you with disgust, taking in the blood-soaked dress clinging to your form.

“God, look at you,” he sneered, his voice cold and venomous. “You’re pathetic.”

Your breath hitched as you took a step toward him. “I did what you told me to do,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “I did it for us, Sharen. So we could be together.”

Sharen stepped back, laughing bitterly. “You stupid bitch. You actually did it?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His laughter wasn’t warm—it was sharp, cruel, cutting into you like shards of glass. “Good thing I married such an obedient little lapdog.”

“Sharen… I… I love you,” you whispered, tears streaking down your bloodied cheeks.

His smile twisted into something monstrous as he reached for the knife on the nightstand. “Love?” he spat. “You think this is love? You’re nothing to me. Not as a wife, not even as a woman.”

The world tilted as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you down. You gasped, pain shooting through your scalp as his words hit you like a series of blows.

“And more disgrace,” Sharen spat, his voice dripping with venom as his cold eyes raked over you. “A mixed thing growing in your stomach. How utterly disgusting.”

You staggered back, clutching at your abdomen protectively. Tears blurred your vision, but you could still see the gleam of the knife in his hand as he took a step closer. “Sharen… please…”

The words choked in your throat, thick with desperation.

But he wasn’t listening.

He never listened.

The blade plunged into your stomach with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed, a bloodcurdling sound that echoed off the walls, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. With a cruel twist of the knife, pain exploded through your body like fire, searing and unrelenting. Blood gushed from the wound, hot and sticky, soaking the front of your dress and pooling at your feet.

Your knees gave out, and you crumpled to the floor, clutching at the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. “No… no, please…” you sobbed, the words barely audible over your gasps for air. “My baby… my baby!”

But he didn’t stop. Sharen kicked you savagely, the impact sending you sprawling across the blood-slicked floor. Your head struck the corner of a nightstand with a sickening crack, and stars danced in your vision. The pain in your womb was unbearable, a relentless reminder of the life being ripped away from you.

“My child…” you whimpered, your trembling hands pressed against your abdomen. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and unyielding, as the reality of what he had done crashed over you like a tidal wave. “No… my baby…”

Your scream tore from the depths of your soul, raw and guttural, a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish. It echoed through the house, but it brought no help, no mercy. It was a scream for a life that would never be. A scream for the only thing that gave your shattered existence meaning.

Sharen sneered down at you, his face twisted into a mask of contempt. “How can someone like you be so damn annoying?” he hissed, his tone laced with disgust.

You didn’t have the strength to reply, didn’t have the air to scream again as the knife came down once more. This time, it pierced your throat.

Pain erupted anew, and you gurgled helplessly, blood spilling from your lips and staining the floor in crimson rivulets. You tried to scream, tried to cry out, but all that escaped was a wet, choking sound. Your hands clawed weakly at the floor, at him, at anything, but there was nothing left to hold onto.

Sharen leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Farewell, you stupid bitch,” he hissed, his voice cruel and unfeeling. “Who could ever love someone like you?”

The final stab came with deliberate precision, the blade plunging into your skull. The pain was blinding, like shards of glass driving into your brain. Sharen used his full weight, forcing the knife deeper, the sickening sound of bone cracking filling the room.

Your body convulsed, every nerve screaming in agony, but you were too weak to fight back. The darkness crept in, slow and suffocating, as your vision blurred and your thoughts faded into nothingness.

There was one last snap—a grotesque, final note in the symphony of your suffering—and then, silence.

That was how you died.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in horror, the scene before him an unbearable tableau of carnage and despair. Blood pooled beneath her lifeless body, staining the ground a deep crimson, the metallic scent hanging heavy in the air. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground with a thud, his breath hitching as an agonizing whine escaped his throat. He had seen many things in his eternal existence, but this—this was a nightmare that cut deeper than any punishment he had ever endured.

He tried to speak, to form words of defiance or comfort, but all that emerged was a strained whimper. His gaze snapped upward at the figure looming above her broken body—Sharen, or what had been Sharen. The man stood tall, the flicker of a smirk curling his lips. But there was something wrong with him, something off.

Lucifer’s voice was low and trembled with fury. “You… you did this to her. You’re a monster.”

Sharen chuckled, the sound low and mocking, like the scrape of nails on stone. “A monster? Oh, Lucifer, you give me too much credit.” He leaned down slightly, his golden hair catching a faint, eerie glow from an unseen source. “Do you really think I’m Sharen?”

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer’s fists clenched against the floor, his voice tinged with desperation.

The figure straightened, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. His form began to shimmer and warp, the edges of his body blurring as though he were made of smoke. “I am not Sharen. I am her torment.” His voice was layered, a mix of Sharen’s tone and something far darker, more insidious.

Lucifer froze, his jaw tightening as the figure continued.

“I am not real. I am what she created in her mind to protect herself from the truth. To make sense of the pain, the loss, the destruction. I am her fear, her guilt, her self-loathing—and her hope twisted into despair.” The figure stepped closer, his movements fluid, unnaturally smooth. “And guess what, dear king…” His grin widened, a sinister glint in his eyes. “You’re part of me.”

Lucifer’s breath caught, his heart pounding as the figure’s form flickered again, and suddenly, he was staring into his own face. The same crimson eyes, the same cruel smirk—an exact, malevolent mirror of himself.

“You’re one of her tormentors, Lucifer,” the dark reflection sneered. “You are me.”

“No!” Lucifer’s voice thundered, his hands slamming against the floor as he surged to his feet. “I am nothing like you! I didn’t…” His words faltered, his memories flashing unbidden—of her screams, her tears, the fear in her eyes when his rage had burned out of control.

The dark Lucifer laughed, a sound that seemed to echo from every corner of the void. “Oh, but you did, didn’t you? You hurt her, you burned her. You broke her spirit when she tried to reach you.” The shadow leaned in close, its voice a whisper that wrapped around Lucifer like chains. “You and I are the same, King of Hell. Both of us destroy everything we touch.”

Lucifer recoiled, his hands trembling as he fought to push back the flood of guilt and memories. “No. I won’t accept that. I can still save her.”

The shadow smirked, folding its arms across its chest. “Save her?” it taunted, its voice dripping with malice. “Look at her. She’s gone. She’s dying, slipping away even as we speak. There’s no returning her from this. She’s too far gone. You’ve already lost.”

Lucifer’s eyes blazed with fury, a fire igniting deep within his chest. He stepped forward, his jaw set with determination. “Watch me.”

The shadow tilted its head, amusement glinting in its eyes. “Oh, Lucifer,” it purred. “You don’t understand. Saving her means more than pulling her body back to life. You’ll have to face the depths of her pain, her memories, her torment. You’ll have to face me.”

The void around them seemed to pulse, the darkness growing heavier, suffocating. The shadow began to dissolve into tendrils of smoke, its laughter echoing as it disappeared. “I’ll be waiting,” it hissed, the sound slithering into the air like a serpent. “You won’t survive her truths.”

Lucifer stood frozen, the weight of the challenge pressing down on him like a mountain. He turned back to her fragile form, lying broken on the blood-soaked ground. Her face was pale, her breath shallow, her soul flickering like a dying ember.

He knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against her cheek as his resolve hardened. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and determination. “I’ll bring you back. Even if it destroys me, I’ll bring you back.”

The ground beneath him began to crack, the void itself splintering as if in protest. A sudden gust of wind whipped around him, and the world seemed to fracture, pieces of the memory falling away into nothingness.

And then, a voice—soft, broken, but unmistakable.

“Lucifer…”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers. Her lips barely moved, but the sound was there. Her soul was still there.

Before he could respond, the world crumbled around him, dragging him into the abyss once more.

I need a drink. This chapter was so hard to write. Anyway here is a little peak for the next chapter:

Lucifer’s voice cut through the chaos, urgent and filled with desperation. “It’s time, Y/n! Wake up! You have to wake up!” Your eyes widened as the world shattered around you. The torment let out one final, guttural roar before it was swallowed by the flames. The last thing you saw was Lucifer’s outstretched hand, his scarlet eyes blazing with determination.

💫

@ravensdecent36 @i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich @ravensdecent36 @fangthesandwing @luna-naoffcial @emilyispookie @aro-ace-asshole

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #y/n #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #shapard #angst lucifer #horror

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girlkisser13 · 5 months ago

Text

snow on the beach

"i’ve never seen someone lit from within" "blurring out my periphery" "my smile is like i won a contest" "and to hide that would be so dishonest"

pairings: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mostly angst. childhood best friends to lovers.

summary: after one of his many travels, colin comes back home to see that you are engaged to someone else.

in the sun-dappled gardens of aubrey hall, colin bridgerton and miss y/n y/l/n had spent their childhood years in innocent joy. their laughter had filled the air as they climbed trees, chased butterflies, and whispered secrets beneath the ancient oaks. yet, as the years progressed, those simple affections deepened into something far more profound.

as the two of you grew older, your feelings for him began to shift in subtle yet profound ways. one evening, on the eve of colin’s departure for yet another of his travels, you found herself alone with him in your favorite garden alcove. the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the scene, illuminating the quiet turmoil in your heart. you could not let him leave without confessing the emotions that had burgeoned within you for so long.

“colin,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “before you leave, there is something i must tell you.”

he turned to her, his expression one of curiosity and mild apprehension. “what is it, y/n?”

drawing a deep breath, you continued, “i have long cherished our friendship, but of late, my feelings have deepened. i love you, colin. more than a friend, more than anything. i needed you to know before you go.”

for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. colin’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. the silence stretched on, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears. finally, he turned away, his thoughts a whirlwind you could not fathom.

“y/n, i…” he faltered, unable to find the words.

disheartened, you nodded, forcing a brave smile. “safe travels, colin,” you whispered before walking away, your heart aching with the weight of unspoken words.

the months passed slowly. you threw yourself into the demands of the upcoming season, but your heart remained shadowed by colin’s silence. summer brought with it a suitor who showed a keen interest in you. with your family’s financial situation growing precarious, his attention was both a blessing and a burden.

your family estate, once thriving, had fallen on hard times. your father’s investments had failed, and the pressure to secure a suitable match was immense. the suitor’s wealth and status seemed like the perfect solution. he was kind, attentive, and clearly smitten with you. but your heart belonged to another, a man who had not spoken a word since your heartfelt confession.

when colin returned to london, he found you distant and reserved, a stark contrast to the spirited girl he remembered. the danbury ball was always a grand affair as the first ball of the season, but colin’s heart sank as he watched you dance with a lord, your engagement now the talk of the ton. his heart twisted in anguish as he saw the resigned look in your eyes, the sparkle that had once been there now dimmed.

unable to bear it any longer, colin interrupted your dance, his eyes blazing with determination. “may i have this dance, miss y/l/n?” he asked, though it was more a demand than a request.

the man across from you frowned. "we are in the midst of a dance, bridgerton."

colin's gaze did not waver. "i was addressing miss y/l/n, not you."

taken aback, you hesitated before nodding reluctantly. "very well, mr. bridgerton."

as the two of you began to waltz, colin leaned in, his voice urgent. "y/n, you cannot marry him."

your eyes flashed with anger. "and why not, colin? my family's funds are dwindling. i have no other choice."

colin's grip tightened on your waist, his voice desperate. "he is not right for you, y/n. he does not deserve you."

you pulled away slightly, your expression one of deep hurt. "and who, pray tell, is right for me? who deserves me?"

he opened his mouth but said nothing, the silence spoke volumes. your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "it is too late, colin. i have no choice. my family’s funds have gone down, and i must secure my family's future."

"if it is your family's funds and reputation you are concerned about, marry me," colin implored. "i have far more wealth than that man you have chosen to marry."

you laughed bitterly. "no, colin. i will not enter into a loveless marriage. you do not love me."

"and you love him?" colin questioned.

"i believe i can grow to love him in time," you declared.

"that is not real love," colin protested.

"do not speak to me of "real love," colin!" you yelled, your voice breaking with emotion. you turned and fled into the garden of the danbury estate, your heart a storm of conflicting emotions.

"y/n, wait," colin called, following you into the night. he caught you by the hand, his voice choked with emotion. "i was a fool, a coward. i did not know how to respond, but i have never stopped thinking of you. please, forgive me."

you whirled around, your eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "you dare to say this now? after i bared my heart to you and you left me without a word? you are ruining my chance to save my family!"

desperation gave him courage. he cupped your face in his hands, his voice a fervent plea. "y/n, i love you. i always have. please, do not let this be the end."

you pulled away from him, walking further into the garden, "you had your chance, colin. you left me with nothing but silence."

he caught your hand once more, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "y/n, i have been away for far too long, and in that time, i have come to realize something of great importance. when we were younger, i made a promise to you— a promise that i would never be dishonest with you."

you turned towards him, your gaze remaining steady. your arms were crossed protectively over your chest, a subtle barrier against the world.

colin took a step forward, his eyes earnest. "it is with that promise in mind that i must confess something i have hidden for far too long. y/n, i have never met anyone so filled with light as you are. your presence brightens every room and every moment. your smile... it is as if you have won a contest, and the prize is the joy you bring to those around you. i love you, deeply and truly."

your guarded demeanor softened slightly, a crack forming in the fortress around your heart.

a heavy silence followed his confession. your lips parted slightly, but no words emerged. your posture remained rigid, a shield against the vulnerability you surely felt.

his heart ached at the sight of your guarded stance. "y/n," he said gently, "please, let me show you what i cannot express merely in words."

before you could respond, he kissed you, pouring all his love and regret into that single, searing kiss. for a moment, you resisted, but then you melted into his embrace, the intensity of your shared emotions overwhelming any lingering doubt.

when the two of you finally broke apart, your eyes were filled with tears, but also with a glimmer of hope. "colin, you hurt me deeply," you whispered. "but i cannot deny my heart."

he held you close, his voice a whisper against your ear. "y/n, i will spend my days proving to you that my love is true. please just give me the chance."

you looked up at him, "colin, i... i have waited so long for you to say these words. i feared i would never hear them."

he gently brushed a tear from your cheek. "i am sorry for the pain my silence caused you, but i am here now, and i will not leave again."

your arms slowly encircled him, your embrace warm and full of the affection you had long harbored. "and i believe you, colin. i truly do."

with a final, lingering kiss under the starlit sky, you and colin had found your way back to each other, your love rekindled and stronger for the trials it had endured.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton smut #taylor swift #lana del rey #taylana #midnights #snow on the beach #spotify

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thedarkestrivernymph · 3 months ago

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Monster

Heian period!Sukuna x fem!Reader

warnings: heavy angst, blood, gore, misogynistic thinking

You would do anything.

You're begging, crying, pleading, doing everything in your power to showcase your genuine obedience, to prove yourself to be a truly spineless bundle of nerves, cowering at his feet. Hoping and praying he will relent that he isn't such a grotesque monster, that he just isn't a hollow black hole consuming everything only to spit it out foul and rotten.

But he is. And you know that he is.

That's why your begging wasn't enough, nothing was, nor ever would be enough for him, because human emotions were fickle, to be played and abused to his own enjoyment.

So he did what he did best, being a monster.

Flicking his wrist he sealed the fate of the only thing dear to you, ripping it all away from you in just one nanosecond.

He didn't even allow screams to ripple from her throat, as he slashed her fragile body in half, letting crimson paint your lap, soaking your nightgown in this ugly despicable red that painted you like a warning.

A warning.

That was what this was.

He had ended the life of the crying and screaming little bundle of joy, so oblivious to everything, innocent with big pooling eyes that could have reflected the stars, as a warning.

Sukuna had ended your daughter's life to prove a point.

To warn you to bear him a boy or your limps were the next to be snapped in half, with your gaze as bleary as hers.

Silence engulfed you, a painful agonizing one.

The room already reeked of blood—of that metallic note, and sweat, because just hours prior, you were in the process of pushing her out of your womb, eager to already welcome your little darling into the world, you were too blinded by your own eagerness to embrace her, that you failed to see the truth.

He didn't even allow her to suckle on your breast, to taste her first meal out of the safe heaven that was your belly, to gaze upon you with heavy eyelids and sticky lashes, all weary and exhausted, coming to find rest against your soothing heartbeat.

Her skin was still an odd colour, bright and vivid, with her head shaped like a cone, alien-like and yet so familiar, he hadn't even allowed her to adjust to her new life, hadn't allowed her anything.

He robbed your daughter of everything there could be to be robbed of, her first taste of milk, of water, of food, her first word, first time walking, first time feeling the sun graze her features, first time making friends, first love, first heartbreak, first time experiencing a relationship, marriage, perhaps even her first time of being a mother herself— and all you could do was only cower and mourn, fat tears running down your face, sweat-covered, cradling what remained of her.

Sukuna had robbed her, he robbed her and you had been powerless to go against him.

What a fool you had been to be excited, to feel joy, fantasizing about being a happy family, blissfully ignorant about the fact that he was a lunatic.

You had failed her.

All you could do was regret ever allowing her to escape the safety of your womb. You should have kept her inside, safe, away from the monster hovering above you, his sheer size casting a shadow on the little heap of misery you were on the floor.

“That will teach you.” Sukuna exclaimed, as if it was your fault and he was in the right. Well truth be told it was, it was your fault for lying to yourself that he wouldn't be cruel to you, or to his own flesh and blood. It was your fault for ever seeing him as a man instead of the abomination he was, it was your fault.

“We will try again. This time I know you won't disappoint me.” he uttered, so devoid of remorse, of any ounce of guilt, as if he had a clean conscious. All you felt emitting from him was endless coldness, an icy flood threatening to drown you beneath its strength. He had swallowed you whole, and allowed you to wallow in an illusion, all up until this point, he took off the mask off—only he never wore a façade, you were just too blinded by your own delusions to take notice of his true nature.

He didn't even spare you another glance, neither caring for the limp body of his daughter in your arms, her body sliced clean in two— nor the state you were in, exhausted, tired and just having witnessed something so soul-crushing, fom which you knew you could never recover from.

He just didn't care, you were only a body, a means to an end, another piece of meat that would grant him his wish for a male heir—and if you didn't he would just discard of you like you were nothing but a lamb to be slaughtered.

So it wasn't unsurprising, nevertheless did it only plunge the knife deeper and twist it as he spun on his sole, turning away, leaving you there all by yourself, letting maids rush in through the door, causing the world around you to halt and fall into an inescapable endless silence as your gaze focused solely on him.

They were all fussing over you, one more worried than the other but all you could do was blankly stare at his back that was becoming smaller and smaller as he further moved away, descended away from the crime he just committed, only if it was the King of Curses, it wasn't a crime, but god-given and to be accepted, it was the truth he would force down everybody's throats.

And in that exact moment that's when you felt it for the first time.

Such a raging fire clawing up your insides, squeezing your heart, that you might have recoiled from the intensity in any other situation, but not in this moment, no. You embraced the flames, let the thirst for revenge, for vengeance, swallow you whole and hopefully when you burned enough, it would spit you out as a changed woman, ready to gift Sukuna his heir he desired so dearly, only to meet death in the hands of his own flesh and blood.

Because you would do anything for your little bundle of joy.

You would do anything.

#sukuna #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #king of curses #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #heavy angst #cw: murder #cw: death #cw: gore #cw: blood

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ms-snape · 4 months ago

Note

I have a request but its totally up to you alright, if you wanna write it or not. I was hoping you could write a james x childhood bestfriend!reader fic where over the years in hogwarts they just have a fallout? Readers in love with james but james have the marauders and lily and she didn’t feel like he needed her so she moved on and found her own group of friends but reality, james felt exactly the same as reader? They meet again years later for work or smtg and it just felt right?

Request: just look up

Summary: Y/n and James fall apart but end up finding each other again

Warning: Jealousy, angst, insecure reader, blind james,fluff, happy ending, lily ad james doesn't get married, and peter is still a marauder

word count: 3320

A/N: This litteraly took me the whole night to write, cause it's my first request and i wanted it to be just perfect, and i'm not like a james stan so i didnt know how to write it properly without my inner Snape coming out but I really tried my best, the request is awesome and I loved the idea, hope u guys will like it <3

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low over the Hogwarts grounds, casting long shadows of the towering castle onto the emerald lawns. Y/N stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, her heart racing as she watched James Potter soar through the air, his laughter ringing out like music. The Marauders were at their usual practice, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the boy who had once been her world.

"Y/N! Come join us!" Sirius Black called out, a broad grin plastered across his face. He waved his broomstick in the air, beckoning her over.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of her unspoken feelings settle heavily in her chest. "I’m fine here, thanks!" she shouted back, her voice barely masking the sorrow that had become so familiar.

James, spotting her from above, waved enthusiastically. “You’re missing out! This new move is epic!”

“Yeah, sure! Epic!” Y/N forced a smile, but inside, she felt the ache of a friendship that had splintered. Once, they had been inseparable, sharing secrets and dreams beneath the stars. Now, James had his friends—the Marauders—and Lily Evans, the girl who had stolen his heart.

As the practice continued, Y/N turned away, her gaze falling on the Forbidden Forest in the distance. Memories flooded back—bittersweet moments of laughter and joy, now tainted by the reality of their growing distance.

“Hey!” A voice broke through her reverie. It was Remus Lupin, his warm brown eyes sparkling with concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just… watching,” Y/N replied, forcing her gaze to stay on the ground. The last thing she wanted was for Remus to see the sadness in her eyes.

“James has really taken to Quidditch, hasn’t he?” Remus asked, glancing at the pitch. “He’s got talent.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, her throat tightening. “He’s amazing.”

“Want to talk about it?” Remus probed gently.

“No. I mean, yes! I mean—” Y/N took a deep breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Can’t we just enjoy the moment? I don’t want to ruin it for anyone."

Remus nodded, his expression understanding. “Alright. Just know I’m here if you need to vent.”

“Thanks, Remus,” she muttered, grateful for his kindness. The Marauders were undeniably entertaining, but being around them felt like a constant reminder of what she had lost.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the practice ended. James landed with a flourish, his face flushed with exhilaration. “Did you see that? I almost had the snitch!”

Sirius clapped him on the back, his laugh booming. “You’re a legend, mate! Lily won’t be able to resist you now!”

Y/N’s heart sank further at the mention of Lily. She turned to leave, but a voice stopped her.

“Y/N! Wait!” James called, jogging over, his hair tousled and carefree.

“What?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“Are you joining us to the feast tonight?” He grinned, a flash of hope in his eyes.

“Uh…” She hesitated, glancing back at the pitch where the others were gathering. “I might… have plans.”

“Plans? With who?” James’s brow furrowed, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

“Just promised… some friends to join them,” she replied, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh. Right. Friends.” He seemed disappointed but quickly masked it with a smile. “Well, it’s gonna be a great time. You should come!”

“Maybe,” she said, her heart twisting. “I’ll think about it.”

As she walked away, Y/N felt the familiar sting of loneliness. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to, but it never got easier. The laughter of the Marauders faded behind her, replaced by the silence of her own thoughts.

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement that evening, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the starry night. Y/N sat at a table with her new friends, a group that had welcomed her after the rift with James widened. They laughed and chatted, but her mind was elsewhere.

“Y/N, earth to Y/N!” One of her friends, Maria , waved a hand in front of her face.

“Huh?” Y/N blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts.

“Where were you?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at the marauders table for ages.”

“Just… thinking,” Y/N replied, forcing a smile.

“About what? That Potter kid?” Maria teased, nudging her playfully.

“Of course not,” Y/N snapped, then softened. “I mean, maybe a little. It’s hard to ignore him.”

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Maria suggested, her tone earnest.

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “He’s with Lily now. He barely even knows I exist since he met her and his new friens .”

“No, that’s not true!” Maria insisted. “He waved at you earlier!”

“Yeah, like I’m some sort of ghost,” Y/N muttered, her heart heavy.

“Alright, enough with the pity party!” Maria exclaimed, her voice loud. “Let’s enjoy the feast!”

Y/N forced herself to join in, laughing at Maria’s antics. But every time she glanced at James, who was animatedly talking to Lily, her heart cracked a little more.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between Y/N and James only grew. The Marauders had become a tight-knit group, while Y/N found solace in her new friends. But something felt incomplete—a piece of her heart remained tethered to a boy who had once been her best friend.

One afternoon, as the leaves turned golden and the air grew crisp, Y/N sat under a tree, sketching in her notebook. The vibrant colors of autumn surrounded her, yet she felt trapped in shades of gray.

“Hey there!” a voice interrupted her solitude. It was Peter, his round face beaming. “What are you up to?”

“Just doodling,” Y/N replied, glancing up at him. “What about you?”

“Nothing much, just trying to avoid the chaos of the Marauders,” he chuckled. “You know how they can be.”

“Yeah, I do,” she said, a wistful smile touching her lips.

“Want to join us? We’re going to the lake for a bit,” Peter offered.

“Sure, why not?” Y/N closed her notebook and stood up. As she walked with Peter toward the lake, she felt a sense of camaraderie that had been missing for so long.

When they arrived, the Marauders were already there, laughing and splashing water at each other. James, with his tousled hair and carefree smile, stood at the edge, tossing stones into the water.

“Y/N!” he called, his face lighting up. “Come join us!”

“Uh, maybe later, when i'll make sure that the giant squid won't drown me” she said, her heart racing. She felt exposed, like her feelings were laid bare for everyone to see.

“Don’t be a coward!” Sirius yelled, splashing water in her direction. “Get in here!”

Against her better judgment, she found herself laughing as she stepped closer. The warmth of friendship enveloped her, but every time she caught James’s eye, she felt that familiar ache.

“Let’s play a game!” Remus suggested, his voice cutting through the noise. “How about a round of water tag?”

“Yeah! I’m in!” James shouted, diving into the lake, laughter trailing behind him.

Y/N hesitated, but the thrill of the moment pulled her in. She joined the fray, splashing and running. Laughter echoed around her, but the moment James tagged Lily, pulling her into a playful embrace, Y/N felt her heart drop.

“Nice move, Prongs!” Sirius hollered, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve got her!”

“Thanks, Pads! I’m unstoppable!” James replied, his laughter ringing out like a triumphant bell.

Y/N stepped back, feeling the laughter fade as she watched them. She could never compete with that, she thought, turning away to hide the tears that threatened to spill.

“Y/N, wait!” Remus’s voice cut through her thoughts. He had noticed her retreat. “Where are you going?”

“I just need some air,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just give me a moment.”

As she walked away, the laughter from the lake faded into the background. She sat on a bench near the castle, staring at the ground, trying to push away the storm of emotions inside her.

Weeks turned into months, and the rift between Y/N and James only deepened. The Marauders seemed to grow closer, while Y/N drifted further away, lost in her own world. The holidays approached, and with them, a sense of finality hung in the air.

One evening, as snow began to blanket the grounds, Y/N found herself wandering through the castle's corridors, lost in thought. She paused in front of a window, watching the snowflakes dance outside.

“Hey, Y/N!” a voice called, pulling her from her reverie.

It was James, striding toward her with an easy smile. She felt her heart flutter, but she quickly buried it.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Nice night, huh?” he gestured to the snow, his breath visible in the cold air.

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I haven’t seen you around much,” James continued, his tone more serious. “Is everything okay?”

Y/N’s heart ached at his concern, but she forced a smile. “I’ve just been busy, you know? Studying, hanging out with friends…”

“I miss you,” James said suddenly, his voice softening. “Things aren’t the same without you.”

She looked at him, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I miss you too, James, but… things have changed. You’ve got your friends, your life, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’re never in the way,” he insisted, stepping closer. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. That hasn’t changed.”

“But it has,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “You’ve got Lily now and your new friends, and I’m… I’m just me.”

“Lily’s great,and the marauders too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” James said, his eyes searching hers.

Y/N shook her head, the tears finally spilling over. “It’s just… too hard, James. I care about you so much, but I don’t think I can keep pretending it doesn’t hurt to see you with her.”

“Y/N…” James’s voice broke, his face etched with guilt and sadness.

“I need to move on, James,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need to find my own happiness, even if it means letting go of our friendship.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. Y/N felt her resolve crumble as she clung to him, tears soaking his sweater.

“Promise me you’ll still be my friend,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I promise,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the snow outside falling silently, as if the world itself was holding its breath. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N felt a strange sense of peace, as if the weight on her heart had finally lifted.

“Take care of yourself, James Potter,” she said, her voice steady now.

“You take of your self, Y/N,” he replied,

As she walked away, Y/N felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. The bond between them had been fractured, but perhaps, in time, it would heal. For now, she needed to find her own path, even if it meant walking it alone.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the castle in a soft, silent embrace, as Y/N disappeared into the night, ready to face whatever the future held.

---

The dim lights of the Muggle bar cast a warm glow over the wooden tables and the soft hum of conversations filled the air. Y/N sat at the bar, nursing a drink as she stared into the amber liquid. It had been years since she’d seen any of her old school friends, years since she’d felt that familiar mix of camaraderie and nostalgia that had defined her youth.

“Hey, Y/N!” a voice called out, breaking through her thoughts. She turned to see Sirius Black striding toward her, his trademark grin lighting up his face. “What are you doing here, all alone? Thought you might’ve turned into a statue.”

“Very funny, Sirius.” Y/N forced a smile, though her eyes betrayed her. “Just… reminiscing.”

“About what? The time James nearly got us all kicked out for trying to charm the jukebox?” Sirius chuckled, his laughter cutting through the bar's background noise.

Y/N’s heart twisted at the mention of James. He had always been the life of the party, the one with the infectious smile and mischievous glint in his eyes. But over the years, that image had become blurred, overshadowed by his friendships and his infatuation with Lily Evans. Now, James was nothing more than a bittersweet memory.

“Something like that,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius studied her for a moment, his expression shifting from amusement to concern. “You okay? I know things were… complicated back in the day.”

“Yeah, complicated.” She laughed softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “I guess we all drifted apart. I found my own way, made some new friends, you know?”

“Right, right.” Sirius scratched the back of his neck, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his demeanor. “But you’re back now. That’s something, right?”

“Yeah.” She glanced around the bar, watching the flickering candles on the tables. “It feels different, though. Like everything’s changed.”

“Maybe we can change that,” he suggested, his voice brightening. “How about a little reunion? Just us, like old times?”

A lump formed in her throat. “I don’t know, Sirius. It’s been ages. What if—”

“What ifs don’t matter. Come on, it’ll be fun! I’ll even buy the first round.”

“Fine,” she relented, a small smile creeping onto her face. “But only if you promise not to get us thrown out.”

“Deal!” he laughed, and for a moment, the weight on her heart lightened.

The night of the reunion arrived, and the bar was more lively than usual. The usual background chatter was replaced by the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Y/N stood at the entrance, her heart racing as she spotted familiar faces around a table in the back.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Peter exclaimed, waving her over.

“Glad to see you, Y/N!” Remus added, a kind smile on his face.

“Hey, everyone!” she replied, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. As she moved closer, her eyes caught on James. He looked older, more mature, but that same playful sparkle remained in his eyes.

“Y/N!” he called out, breaking into a grin that sent her heart fluttering. “You made it!”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Grab a drink!” Sirius nudged her toward the bar, and she complied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As they settled into conversation, Y/N found herself laughing and sharing stories, each moment pushing the past further behind her. Yet, every time her gaze drifted to James, the ache of lost time returned.

“Hey, you want to step outside for a bit?” James asked, interrupting her thoughts. “It’s getting a bit loud in here.”

“Sure,” she replied, her heart racing as they stepped out into the cool night air.

Once outside, the sounds of the bar faded, leaving them in the stillness of the night. Y/N glanced up at the stars, avoiding his gaze.

“So… how have you been?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

“Busy with work. You know how it is,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “And you? Still with Lily?”

James sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Not anymore. We… we broke up.”

“Oh.” The word slipped from her lips before she could stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “It was my fault, really. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. I thought… I thought I loved her, but I was just lost.”

“Lost?”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, his blue eyes searching hers. “I thought I needed to be with her to prove something. But I realized I was just pushing away the people who actually mattered to me—like you.”

A heavy silence fell again, and Y/N felt a whirlwind of emotions. “I moved on, James. I had to.”

“I know.” He shifted, looking pained. “But I missed you. We all did. I thought I could handle everything—our friendships, my relationship with Lily—but it just made me feel more alone.”

“We already had this conversation, about our friendship, we agreed on moving on James, it was mutual” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I know, but I didnt want this " He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I thought you were fine without me.”

“I was trying to be,” she admitted, her heart racing. “But I missed you too.”

The tension crackled between them, and Y/N felt a pull, like gravity drawing her closer to him. “James…”

“Y/N, I—” he started, but she interrupted.

“You were busy with your life. I didn’t want to be the one left behind.”

“Lily left me because she felt I didn’t love her,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “But I did. I just didn’t know how to show it. I’ve spent too long pretending.”

“Pretending?” she echoed.

“Pretending to be someone I thought everyone wanted me to be. But I’ve changed. I want to be honest, especially with you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her stomach flip. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I still care about you, Y/N. More than I thought possible. And I realize now that I’ve always loved you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “James, I—”

“Please, let me finish.” He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t want to lose you again. I’ve spent so long regretting that fallout between us. I don’t want to pretend anymore, I love you Y/n”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she processed his words. “You mean it?”

“Every word,” he said, his voice steady. “I want to make this right.”

“I…love you too, and I want that too.” Her heart raced, a mix of hope and fear coursing through her. “But what if we just end up hurting each other again?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he replied, determination in his voice. “I want to try. You mean too much to me.”

With a shaky breath, Y/N took a step toward him, closing the distance. “I’ve missed you, James. I thought I’d moved on, but I never really did.”

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. “Then let’s not waste any more time. We can start over.”

As they stood there, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them under the vast expanse of stars. The past had shaped them, but it wouldn’t define their future.

“Together?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Together,” he confirmed, his smile lighting up the night.

Months passed, and the impromptu reunion had ignited a spark that neither had anticipated. Y/N and James navigated their new relationship with care, each moment filled with laughter and discovery. They spent evenings exploring new places, sharing stories of old friends and lost dreams, rebuilding the bond that had once felt irreparably broken.

“I can’t believe we let so much time slip away,” James said one evening as they walked down a quiet street after dinner.

“Yeah, but maybe it was all part of the journey.” Y/N leaned against him, the warmth of his presence comforting. “We’re here now.”

“Right. And I won’t let you go again.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

As they walked together under the streetlights, Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of belonging that had eluded her for so long. The echoes of their past intertwined with the promise of a brighter future, and for the first time in years, she felt whole.

#harry potter #marauders era #remus lupin #james potter #james x reader #james potter x reader #the marauders era #the marauders #young james potter #peter pettigrew #imagine #harry potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james x lily

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xyzssss · 4 months ago

Text

Pregnant?

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem!reader

Summary: You are pregnant but Giyuu doesn’t feel ready

Anime: Demon slayer

Character: Giyuu Tomioka

Warnings: Angst

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the quiet village where Y/n lived. She sat on a wooden bench outside their modest home, her fingers intertwined nervously as she stared at the ground. Thoughts swirled in her mind like a storm, each one darker than the last. Giyuu had been away on a mission for several weeks, and in his absence, the weight of her secret grew heavier.

She felt the gentle flutter in her abdomen, a reminder of the life that was growing within her. The news had been both a joy and a source of overwhelming fear. How could she be a mother? What kind of life could she offer a child when their world was so fraught with danger? Giyuu, the man she loved, was a Hashira—a fighter at the forefront of a never-ending battle against demons. Each mission he undertook carried the risk of death, and the thought of him not returning filled her with dread.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the ground, Y/n heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. Her heart raced as she looked up to see Giyuu, weary but alive, stepping into view. Relief washed over her, but it was quickly overshadowed by the turmoil of her feelings.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice a calm balm against her anxiety. He dropped his sword to the side, his tired eyes searching her face for signs of how she had been. “I’m back.”

“Welcome home,” she managed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Giyuu stepped closer, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look… different. Is everything alright?”

“Just tired,” she replied, the lie slipping easily from her lips. She couldn’t bring herself to share her doubts, her fears. Instead, she watched as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped her, yet she felt a chill deep within her heart.

They sat together in silence, the last rays of sunlight fading into twilight. Y/n’s mind raced, caught between the joy of his return and the heavy burden she carried. How could she face him with the truth? The last thing she wanted was to burden him further with her worries when he already carried so much on his shoulders.

“Y/n?” Giyuu’s voice broke through her thoughts, tender yet filled with uncertainty. “You’re hiding something from me. I can feel it.”

She pulled away slightly, her heart racing as she met his gaze. The intensity of his dark eyes made her feel exposed, as if he could see right through her. “It’s nothing, really. Just… thinking about things.”

“Things?” he pressed, his concern deepening. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it. She had to tell him, even if it shattered the fragile peace they had. “Giyuu… I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Giyuu’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief crossing his features. “Pregnant? You’re sure?”

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “I took the test… It’s true.”

Giyuu ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to process the news. “But… what does this mean for us? For you?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, and Y/n’s heart sank further.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m scared, Giyuu. I don’t know how to be a mother. I can’t even protect myself, let alone a child. And what if something happens to you? What if you don’t come back from your missions? I don’t want to raise a child alone… I can’t do this without you.”

Giyuu’s expression hardened, though his eyes remained soft. “I can’t promise that I’ll always be here, Y/n. My life… it’s dangerous. I’m always fighting. I don’t want you to rely on me for something like this.”

Her heart ached. “But I love you. I thought… I thought we were building a life together. I don’t want to go through this alone. I need you.”

He turned away, staring at the ground, his fists clenched. “I never wanted to be a father,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be one. I’m not sure I can be what you need.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the weight of his words settled in. “Then what do we do? Do we just… pretend this isn’t happening? Do we just walk away?”

Giyuu faced her, his expression tormented. “I don’t know what else to do. I love you, Y/n, but this… this is too much. I can’t promise I’ll be a good father. I’m not even sure I want to be one.”

The truth hung heavy in the air, suffocating her. The man she loved was breaking under the pressure of their reality, and she felt as if her heart was being torn in two. “I don’t want to lose you, Giyuu. I can’t bear the thought of raising a child without you, but I also can’t bear the thought of you feeling trapped by this.”

He stepped closer, wiping her tears with his thumb, but the warmth of his touch felt like a distant memory. “You deserve someone who can give you everything—a stable home, security… a father for your child. I can’t provide that.”

Y/n’s heart shattered as she realized the chasm that had opened between them. “I don’t want someone else. I want you. But if you don’t want this… if you can’t be here… then what do we do?”

Giyuu’s face was a mask of conflict, pain etched into every line. “I need time to think. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. This world is cruel, and I’m always in danger. I can’t risk you or our child.”

With those words, the distance between them felt insurmountable. Y/n nodded slowly, her heart breaking as she felt the reality of their situation settle in. “I understand.”

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Giyuu took a step back, leaving a chasm of uncertainty between them. Y/n watched him, her heart heavy with sorrow, as he turned away, the man she loved now a stranger lost in the shadows of doubt and fear.

In that moment, she realized that love, while powerful, was not always enough to bridge the gaps that life created. The weight of their reality pressed down on her, and she felt the chill of loneliness seep into her bones. Whatever path lay ahead, it seemed they were now walking it alone, each step echoing with the sadness of unspoken dreams and fears for the future.

(Just so u know I accept requests and I made a post about what I will and what I won’t write :p)

#demonslayer #kny #Giyuu #giyuu tomioka #y/n #kny x y/n #giyuu x reader #fem reader

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lamemaster · 13 days ago

Text

Way Back Home

Request: @lanthanum12 Hello friend! I was wondering if I could request a story? I'd like a platonic Mairon & gender neutral reader or oc story. Preferably with a redeemed Mairon! Please keep the relationship between Mairon and reader platonic. Thank you so much! :D

Genre: angst/redemption/hurt no comfort

Pairing: Sauron/Mairon x Platonic Reader

Summary: Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

AN: Thank you for requesting this dearest friend! I hope you like it. Honestly, he deserves this because he's just a baby.

“I do not wish to be kind. I do not wish to be noble,” Mairon whispered, his voice brittle as he lay in your lap. A note of complaint mixed in his whine.

Your fingers wove gently through his hair, brushing through the strands as if to soothe away the ages of torment he had endured.

It had been so long since you last held your son. Your estranged child, who had wandered so far from the path that once bound him to you.

He had lost his way. Lost his name. Forgotten his form and the very song of his being in his unyielding devotion to his lord.

And so you listened. Your heart ached at the bittersweet joy of his return, mingled with the pain of his proximity. Your throat tightened, choked with words you could not say, with sobs you dared not release. Silent, you let him pour his heart out. Your son was home, but the realization of how little of him remained broke you.

He had been so young. Decades-old, still a fledgling, when the Vala of darkness cast his shadow over him.

What began as an innocent infatuation, a harmless curiosity, had grown into something no one could have foreseen.

Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

Mairon, born of the fragments of your song, had once been your precious child. His music had mirrored the light of Laurelin and Telperion, the brightness that once gilded the Blessed Lands. He had been your laughter, your joy, given form.

But your son had burned too brightly.

And the dark lord had coveted him, drawn him in, much like Fëanor’s Silmarils.

But you were no elven prince, bound by pride or vengeance. You were a Maia, simple, obscure, a servant of the halls of Vana, forgotten even by your own child.

Yet your love for him had never faltered.

"Do you remember me?" you wished to ask. "Did you ever miss me, as I longed for you? Did your heart ache for me when I did not come to your rescue? Forgive me. Stay with me, my darling Mairon."

Your thoughts rang loud and desperate in your mind. "Let me bear his pain. Let me repent for him. He is a child," you had begged the All-Father. Day and night, your life had been spent in prayer for him.

In all the vast expanse of Arda, there was one who prayed for him.

And now, you held your son. He still felt too small. Too fragile. Like the little flame you had once cradled in your arms.

“Mairon,” you whispered, and your tears came unbidden. “Mairon,” you repeated senselessly, nestling your face against his cheek. His name was all you had left of him.

Of all the speeches, the scoldings, and the pleas. Only his name remained.

You were weakened by all that had come to pass. Right and wrong had long since ceased to exist. You just wanted him close. Away from harm. You wanted to hold your precious.

With his head in your lap, Mairon fell silent. His form stiffened at the wet warmth of your tears against his cheek. The trembling of your fingers in his hair sent a shiver through him.

He pointedly avoided your gaze, his eyes falling shut as if to ward off the crushing wave of emotion threatening to break him.

And yet, even as he struggled to hold onto the fleeting fragments of his dignity, he did not pull away.

His pain was yours. Every act of his cruelty had been etched into your soul. You terrible son, you thought. You, who marred the world. You, who tore mothers from their children, and became the cause of grieving mothers.

Yet, parts of him had failed to fade.

“Meow,” a plaintive mewl echoed from the past. Mairon, a small kitten, struggling with the blades of grass your fellow Maiar of Vana teased him with.

Chasing after the green stalk, he had sprung from a rock into your waiting palms. Looking up at you with a whine, his golden eyes followed the blade, insistent and determined.

His first form had been that of a kitten. Endearingly known as Tevildo by your friends. “Hush, no teasing my dearest,” you had scolded them gently, earning soft laughter as Mairon let out a contented mew, finally victorious.

Tevildo had remained. A form that comforted him in the harshest of times, a fragment of innocence that lingered amidst the darkness.

Even in the marred forms of his being, your Mairon had somehow held onto his past.

Now, as his face remained hidden in your lap, you pressed a gentle kiss to his scarred cheek. “You do not have to be noble, my darling, nor perform acts of good,” you whispered, kissing the hands that had once been tiny paws.

“Just stay here...” Your voice trembled with restrained sobs. “In the light of Aman. Do not hurt others, Mairon. Do not let yourself be hurt. Do not isolate yourself. Find redemption and forgiveness, from the Quendi, from the Maiar, from the Valar, and from yourself. I know you can do it because you are my most precious darling.”

You smiled faintly, rubbing his shaking form.

“Look after yourself,” you whispered. “Learn to laugh and love. Make amends with Aulë. And Lady Vána too. She cares for you. Even Lord Manwë does. They know you were just a child. No one will deny you forgiveness.”

Tears blurred your vision, making it difficult to gaze at him before the end. “Promise me, dearest,” you pleaded, pulling him to face you. “Promise me you will do all this.”

And the tiny face of a kitten rested on your palm. Tevildo let out a soft whimper, his tiny paws latching onto your robe as if to hold back the inevitable.

“Be my darling son,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Allow me this, my darling. Allow me one last effort for my son. My last labor as your parent, my precious.”

His cries rang loud, echoing through the halls of Mandos as the bleakness of the Void greeted you. Without complaint, you stepped into it.

This was your penance.

The first time Mairon had held the ring, his heart had soared with love. This soul had reached back to him from the engravings of his rings.

Cradling its warmth in his palm Mairon ran his fingers over the metal.

"My precious," the words that left his lips had stilled him. A face of the past came to mind. His heart trembled at your voice that rang in his ears.

"My precious," you had called him, your lips brushing his cheek with a loving kiss. "My Mairon." He could see your smile, warm and tender, and the memory struck him with unexpected force.

It had been too long, he had forgotten it. Or so he thought.

Holding onto his greatest creation, Mairon's first thought had been of you.

Two words that filled him with aching want to hear them. To be held and to be with the one who once called him with such love.

In the lush valleys of Vána, Mairon chased the green stalk that evaded his paws. He mewled at the elders who refused to hand it to him.

Reaching for it with determination, he ran in circles, surrounded by merry giggles. He was fond of the sound, yet his heart felt woefully wrong as he was denied the stalk despite his efforts.

He made his irritation known with wistful mewls, earning another round of soft laughter.

Lost in his game, his feet slipped over a rock, but a pair of warm, gentle hands caught him. Lady Vana’s touch was kind, yet it felt so wrong.

And in an instant, his heart filled with sorrow. A lingering grief, sharp and relentless, that sneaked up in moments like these.

For in those moments, his heart yearned for you.

Alone in Arda, his cries failed to reach you.

Cradled in Vana’s palms, his cries were inconsolable. Soft whimpers, heavy with a sorrow no one could soothe, silenced the company.

#sauron x reader #x platonic reader #platonic relationships #angst #redemption fic #Tevildo #maia reader #the silmarillion #tolkien

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riaarivic · 1 year ago

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 1 Into you

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the series: Unplanned pregnancy (I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT) Unprotected sex, foul language, angst, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort. Will update as the series progress. 💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 3,4k

💗 Series Index 1 2

His 01: Into you

"And baby even on our worst nights. I'm into you" Into you - Paramore.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

You have to admit, you've been glued to your computer screen for a solid twenty minutes, utterly motionless.

Hyung-Joon, once your boss and now your business partner, just forwarded an email confirming your company's involvement in BTS's upcoming Permission to Dance on Stage tour. The whole team was buzzing with excitement about the colossal job ahead.

It would be the biggest job in your company.

It really was the opportunity of a lifetime, the pay was enough to take Hana on a Disney cruise vacation.

For a whole year.

Three years in a row.

Heck, you could buy the damn boat.

That's how good it would be.

You should be basking in the joy of this achievement.

Yet, the smallest detail casts a shadow over the happiness—precisely, the leader of the band. The young, talented, millionaire, successful, infuriating asshole Kim Namjoon is your daughter's father.

For the tiniest detail, it must be emphasized that he had no intention of being a part of her life.

Fuck him.

He couldn't even summon the decency to meet your gaze when he sent his mother and manager to deliver an envelope full of money, effectively kicking you and your daughter out of Korea.

The memory of it turned your stomach.

💗💗💗JANUARY 2017💗💗💗

An alien.

That's how all the people saw you when you entered Big Hit as if you came from another planet entirely. An alien who spoke their language perfectly, who had not come as part of a tourist excursion, but to work.

They all regarded you as if you had a second head protruding from your back. The security, while registering your information for your access card; the staff, makeup artists, hair stylists—all whispered things as you walked by.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

The chance of a lifetime, you reminded yourself. The pay might not be extravagant, but the perks of being part of a K-pop group's staff more than compensated for it.

You were going to travel all over the world, meet new people, eat delicious things and most of all… be as far away geographically as possible from where you came from.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime

After navigating several security checkpoints and maneuvering through what felt like a maze of boxes filled with the group's merchandise, materials, and clothing, you reached the office where they awaited you.

The global press department.

Though the term "department" sounded too grand for the small space—more like a converted broom closet with your boss's desk and yours side by side.

"Oh! Miss… um," you smiled as you saw him struggling with the pronunciation of your full name.

"Call me y/n. You must be Manager Hyung-Joon," the man let out a sigh of relief. Despite his imposing stature, dominating the tiny office, a friendly smile adorned his face.

"Miss y/n, you're just in time. They are about to finish a rehearsal, and we are going to start the first practice interviews for the US tour. Did you bring everything you need?" You nodded, and he motioned for you to follow him.

Probably, nothing you had read about this group could prepare you for what lay ahead. As Manager Hyung-Joon swung open the door, the first thing that struck you was the noise.

That room was pure Chaos.

What you'd expect if you left seven practically teenage men to their own devices. They chatted and laughed, appearing at first glance like a bunch of ordinary kids.

Not like the young men who would become the biggest musical act in history.

"Bangtan, can you please be quiet?" the manager shouted, capturing everyone's attention. "This is y/n; she will be your translator from now on." All seven pairs of eyes turned to you simultaneously, and once again, there it was.

That look that made you feel utterly out of place.

According to what you'd been told, it wasn't common for the company to hire young, let alone single, women to work with BTS. Yet, you excelled at your job, armed with a glowing recommendation letter from one of your college professors.

Fast and precise with translations, you also brought experience as a journalist before accepting this position.

And that you accepted the joke of a salary they offered.

The company deemed you useful enough to overlook the fact that you would be the only woman among these men most of the time.

But your integration into the staff didn't happen before their main manager warned them that any attempt at inappropriate behavior towards you would result in drastic consequences.

Not to mention the uncomfortably awkward conversation you had in the president's office, where terms like contraceptives, confidentiality agreements, and the ominous "If you have any kind of relationship with one of the members, we will sue you for everything you have" echoed.

Though you were sure the suitcase you brought to Korea wouldn't be much help to a music company at the time.

The message was clear:

Mess with one of them.

You're out.

It's not like you were interested in a workplace romance; true, they were all attractive, but you needed this job more than anything else in the world.

At that time, Bangtan was gearing up for their promotions in the United States, and they required someone to assist them in English communication.

So they wouldn't be overly dependent on him.

"Do you even speak Korean?" that was the very first words he spoke to you. He wore an expression somewhere between puzzled and annoyed for a moment before turning to speak to Hyung-Joon as if you weren't there. "Are you sure she's not a stalker?"

"I'm a communications major from Busan National University. I also speak Japanese, French, Spanish, and Portuguese. But my first language is English. I suppose that answers your question," you retorted, meeting his gaze challengingly, and he rolled his eyes as if your response bored him.

At the far end of the room, you heard an amused snort; you recognized him from the dossier—his name was Suga.

"Did that lady just shut up Namjoon-hyung?" the youngest among them stared at you as if you were a unicorn, a mythical creature, the weirdest thing he has ever seen, and the older one nudged him to stop staring.

"Nice to meet you all; my name is y/n. I will be your translator, and I hope you can take care of me." You bowed, and when you straightened, you smiled at everyone. He kept his stare locked at you, irritated and unimpressed by your initial response.

That was the beginning of it all.

💗💗💗DECEMBER 2018💗💗💗

Fool.

A complete fool is how you felt, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself on your bathroom floor holding a positive pregnancy test. Four years ago, your heart held a different kind of weight, the weight of a secret growing within you.

Two weeks after he had returned to Seoul.

Exactly two weeks after you had told him to get the fuck out of your life.

No. That's not true.

You know better now. He was already gone before you found the strength to let him go. You just hadn't realized it.

So, here you were sitting on your bathroom floor. The weight of your shared history hanging heavily between you. Looking at the abstract pattern on the tiles feeling like a complete idiot.

Feeling guilty for a child who will grow up without a father.

Because...

You thought you were strong enough to handle it. You believed you could navigate motherhood alone, but...

Should you tell him?

Would it be too selfish to unveil this reality now?

How could you shatter his world, now that his career soared to unprecedented heights?

And the company…

You knew The company would go to great lengths to erase you and this secret from existence if necessary..

Kim Namjoon the leader of BTS.

Korea's pride.

Fathering an unplanned child out of wedlock with a foreigner?

It could dismantle everything he had worked for.

And his group. It will destroy them and he will never forgive you for it.

Besides, did you even have the right to reenter his life?

After what you have said to him? After the wounds you carved upon each other?

You wanted to cry, but the tears remained trapped within your eyes.

Kim Namjoon, the man known as RM, the leader of BTS, was your adversary, your lover, the man who once held your heart, and the one who shattered it into irreparable pieces—

All within a year.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

This is a terrible idea

It took you too long to work up the courage to tell him that you had had a daughter. But you couldn't tell him by phone call or mail.

You mustered all the courage you had and took a plane from Los Angeles to Korea. You definitely did not imagine how extremely difficult 16 hours on a flight with a one year old baby would be.

You had to bribe Jungkook with buying him 10 cartons of banana milk to get his new number.

Calling him was much harder.

"Hello?" His voice, after a year, stirred emotions you believed buried deep within.

You had no idea what to say.

Hi Namjoon, remember me? I'm y/n, your ex-girlfriend, ex-enemy, ex-translator? Oh, by the way, we have a daughter. I'm in Korea. Sorry for not telling you earlier; I panicked, thinking the company might erase us if they found out. Congratulations on the new album.

Definitely not that.

"Hey, Joonie," you blurted, and somehow felt like worse alternative, "I'm in Korea, and I'd like to talk…"

"Yes," he interrupted, his voice as desperate as yours, "I'm sending a driver for you. Where are you staying?"

Two hours later, a black company van awaited you in front of your hotel. It transported you to a far more luxurious apartment complex than their previous dormitory.

They are doing so well.

That made you proud, they deserved every drop of success they had.

But he wasn't in the apartment.

Waiting for you in the living room was a face you'd only seen once—Namjoon's mother, Mrs. Kim Seolmi. Accompanied by bodyguards and a staff member, her gaze held the same mix of disappointment and anger as the first meeting. Her eyes shifted sourly when they landed on Hana, in your arms.

Hana was the vivid image of her father, every feature, dimples, almond eyes, pouty lips, and even her expressions. Seeing Namjoon in her.

It took Mrs. Kim mere seconds to deduce the baby in your arms was her granddaughter.

"He doesn't want to see you, neither you nor the bastard child you're carrying. Did you think you could pass off just anyone's daughter as my son's?" She pulled an envelope from her bag. You knew it contained money. "Take it and leave. A gold-digger like you, using men for money. How disgusting."

"Madam, I don't need your money. If Namjoon doesn't want to see me, he should tell me himself." You clutched your crying daughter, scared by the woman's shouts.

From a corridor emerged Sejin, BangTan's main manager. He always knew everything about them. And his presence here meant The company was already aware that Namjoon had a daughter.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, Miss y/n, but it's true. He asked us to give this to you," Sejin handed you a sealed letter with your name on it, "and this you must sign. It's the only way to prevent the company from taking legal action against you for involving yourself with a member."

"Ha! As if the half-breed was really my Namjoon's daughter."

Oh you were going to kill that woman.

Before you could unleash your thoughts, Sejin spoke again. "y/n, you know what it means to be in a relationship with an idol, let alone having a daughter out of wedlock. This could destroy him and Bangtan. I'm sure you don't want that." His voice carried pity.

"You don't want to go trough this, and we know you don't want to put your daughter through it." He took a breath and sat in front of you. "The company is willing to compensate you for your silence. It's your only option—"

"I don't want your fucking money, Sejin"

"Miss, if you go against the company, we'll have to fight in court, and you could lose custody of your daughter. I'm sorry, but it's true. He didn't want to come when he found out you were coming with your child."

He didn't want to come

When he found out

That you were coming with a child.

Your child.

That phrase echoed in your mind for years. You could still close your eyes and see Sejin's pitiful face—the same one he wore when informing an employee they could no longer work for them.

Because they spoke a second too long with one of them.

Because they smiled at them a little too much.

Because feelings started to emerge.

All were fired and forced to sign mountains of legal documents preventing them from ever speaking about what transpired.

Some were even offered positions at other agencies.

"You're fortunate Bang PDnim decided to compensate you. But it's your decision," he concluded.

Three hours later, you were repacking to return to Los Angeles, vowing never to set foot in Seoul again.

This should never have happened.

As you wiped away tears, your phone buzzed with several notifications.

Message from unknown number: Doll, it's Yoongi. Jungkook told me you were here and you were staying at a hotel in Myeongdon. Message from unknown number: I'm coming to see you.

Message from Cookie 🍪: Y/n Noona, Yoongi Hyung asked me to give him your number. Thanks for the banana milk, you should stop by the dorm and let's drink soju like old times!!!!

Message from NJ: I am so sorry. I hope you can understand.

The last message made you want to throw up.

The phone started vibrating with an incoming call…..

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Hyun-Joon regarded you with the same concerned eyes he had five years ago when you first met. He had transitioned from being your boss to your business partner and, eventually, one of your dearest friends. A few months after your departure from Korea, he called to share the news of starting their own management agency with a friend.

The startup funds came from the envelope Sejin handed you as compensation for never disclosing the identity of your daughter's father.

At least something good came from shattering your heart into a thousand pieces.

Today, you were the CEO of a flourishing company offering diverse services to music companies in Korea—translators, managers, staff, security; you had it all, and your agency ranked as the best in the market.

It was only a matter of time before you appeared on HYBE's radar.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself back in the same room as him.

"Of course, this is the best contract the agency has had since we started. We are professionals, and your CEO is no exception," you reassured yourself more than Hyun-Joon.

He scrutinized you, trying to believe your conviction. "Well, let's get ready; they are about to come in."

The sight before you differed vastly from the first time you saw them in the modest conference room at what was then Big Hit. Through the glass door leading to your meeting room, the bodyguards entered first, followed by the new individual managers.

You knew much had changed since your last encounter. Initially, it was just you and a handful of staff members.

Now, it felt as if the President of the United States or Beyoncé were about to make an entrance.

Scratch that, the president's secret service probably had fewer people.

The room was nearly full, yet they hadn't arrived.

Jungkook walked in first. The last time you saw him, he still wore his school uniform. Now, he appeared as if he had stepped out of a novel, exuding a bad-boy aura with tattoos and all-black attire.

Behind him, Taehyung, the shy boy with the innocent smile, wore a designer suit, exuding timeless elegance like the protagonist of an old Hollywood film. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

Jimin seemed unchanged yet transformed simultaneously—beautiful, elegant, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. When he saw you, he smiled discreetly, as if holding back many unspoken words.

Following him, J-Hope entered. His off-stage personality always intimidated you, yet he remained the kindest and most focused among them. That hadn't changed.

Yoongi walked in behind him, smiling genuinely upon seeing you. Among all of them, he was the only one you still maintained contact with. Nonetheless, seeing him in person brought a sense of relief.

Jin came in almost last, and you couldn't help but be amused. Despite not having seen him in person for four years, he hadn't aged a day. Serene as ever, he entered with a respectful bow.

A chill ran down your spine.

They entered in the official order.

From youngest to oldest.

And last.

Him.

Kim Namjoon, always entering last, responsible for introducing them all. Front and center, as always. His now-blond hair caught your attention first. Even beneath his clothes, you could see that he had grown. His arms filled his shirt just like his chest and legs.

Your mind instinctively wandered into territory you almost slapped yourself for entertaining.

You looked up, and he was looking at you. Whether he was surprised or not, his face revealed nothing. With almost a decade in the business, Kim Namjoon knew how to conceal his emotions.

Assuming he had any.

He obviously doesn't care to see you. And who were you to him?—just some woman he was fucking four years ago.

Just

The mother of his daughter.

Your ears buzzed, and you were so deeply lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice when he began talking.

"...it's a pleasure for us to work again with you and your agency," that damn voice, it could still stir emotions in you. "Miss Y/LN, it's also nice to see you again."

Oh, is he going to call you by your last name?

"It's Lee now," your voice sounded cooler than you thought it would, perfect.

"Congratulations, in that case," he stiffened his jaw, and you smiled at him. Simultaneously, several people in the room tensed up.

Ah yes, that was another detail Kim Namjoon obviously didn't know about you.

Eric Lee was your other business partner and your best friend. You had married three years ago so that he could obtain a visa and stay in the US with you.

Eric gave his last name to Hana and had practically raised her with you.

And also.

Eric was completely, totally, and utterly gay.

Your marriage was only on paper.

But that was a detail you weren't going to explain to Kim Namjoon.

By the way… where the hell was he?

Namjoon cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "In that case, I think we can start—"

"Mommy!" a little voice interrupted, entering the room. With so many people there, you could only see the top of her dark brown hair. "Uncle said to play hide and seek; can I hide with you?"

Almond eyes.

Dimples in the smile.

The same pouty lips.

Kim Namjoon who was almost 10 years in the industry and knew perfectly well how to hide his emotions, but he looked at the little girl in front of him as if he had just seen an alien.

His face showed a thousand questions.

How old was that little girl?

Why did she have the same eyes as him?

Why had she called you mom?

Did you have a daughter?

The whole room tensed up.

Oh shit, I knew this was a bad idea.

But things happened so fast.

For the first time in her life, Kim Namjoon looked at his daughter's face.

And you were looking at the consecuence of what once was a stolen kiss behind a closed door.

And then evolved to so much more.

A snarky remark.

An irritated snort after others spoke.

A heated argument in a press room.

A few stolen kisses behind the staff room door.

A night in a hotel room.

And despite your reluctance to admit it,

Despite everything.

You would always be

His.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

I KNOOOOOWWWW! Another fic and I haven't finished translating/editing/rewriting/posting Hate!. But Yes, I had to, I had a writers block and decided to pull this one out of the vault of prompts.

Pregnancy troupe? while I'm writing a dark mafia romance? I KNOW But hear me out with this one, it is A RIDE.

I REALLY wanted to write a short agnsty BUT filled with heart clenching romance and.. other things clenching smuttines.

Yes, I'll continue updating Hate! but i would love you a bit if you give this baby a chance... literal baby. AND KIM NAMJOON AS A GIRL DAD!!?? IM NOT GOING TO DEPRIVE MYSELF OF THAT

Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

As always love you guys,

Ria 💗

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts suga #bts #bts imagines #bts au #bts rm #bts romance #bts idol #namjoon #run bts #bts fic #bts scenarios

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milliesfishes · 6 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎEpilogue: Undoubtable౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst, pregnancy, difficult birth pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: epilogue to 'Impossible' and 'Inscrutable' author’s note: this series has been an emotional journey and y'all have been more than supportive. thank you for reading this story and loving it as much as I do <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The hum of the forest was the epitome of calm.

It was never loud, of course, but it was noisy in a quiet way, the steady lilt of birds and creatures likewise creating an overall pleasing sound. Sometimes the wind rustled the leaves, and when it rained it was peaceful.

On days like today, when the sun was peeking through the leaves and casting shadows on the soft earth, it was heaven. Your mind was at ease as you sat on the porch and let yourself breathe. The air was cool despite the state of the sky, and so you had a blanket wrapped around you as you sat cozied up directly in the path of the sunshine.

It was nearly nightfall, and you wanted to get as much warmth as possible from this beautiful day, since it was sure to rain tomorrow. These kinds of fair-weather gaps were exactly that: gaps. You didn't know when the next one would come, and so you soaked up the light when it came.

Your ears tuned in to the crunch of footsteps, and when you looked out into the distance you saw Billy lumbering over with a stack of fresh cut wood. He set it by the porch steps and climbed up to meet you, greeting you with a kiss and kneeling at your side, his hand finding yours. The other hand adjusted the blanket around you, pulling it snugly over your shoulders.

"Hey baby," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. "Ya warm enough?"

Nodding gently, you squeezed his hand and slid from your chair to wrap your arms around his neck. The blanket fell around your waist as you cuddled up against him quietly.

Billy didn't question it, just slid one arm over your back and the other to the back of your head, holding you there so comfortably that you sighed. His body rocked back and forth subtly, soothing you even though there was nothing to be soothed from. This was perfect. He was perfect.

His chin rested on the part in your hair. "You hungry?"

"Mhm," you smiled, nuzzling your head against his chest.

"Alright." Billy stood, bringing you with him and rewrapping the blanket around your shoulders. "How 'bout I make us somethin' tonight, hm?"

Normally you would have said yes. He was being sweet, and you could tell today was one of those days when he particularly felt like spoiling you. But you had something on your mind.

"I already started something," you smiled, and he kissed your forehead.

"You're an angel Daisy." He slid his arm around you and led you back inside. "M' girl workin' hard f'me."

"You work plenty hard for me all day," you responded as you went into the kitchen, checking on the stove. Soup was just about done. You'd stepped outside while it simmered, knowing a watched pot never boiled. "This is the least I can do."

"You're gonna turn me into a kept man," Billy chuckled, leaning over your shoulder and taking a whiff of the soup. "Ohh, this one's my favorite honey."

"I know," you said casually, reaching for bowls to ladle it into. "Go sit. I'll bring it to you."

"Can't let my girl be carryin' her own dinner," Billy reached for the bowls as you served up the soup.

"Go sit." You leaned up and kissed his cheek so he would. Though it was silly, you didn't want to ask for anything from him. Not yet.

As expected, he ate every bite in front of him and asked for seconds, which you happily provided him with. You wanted to make sure he was fed before you told him what you'd been thinking about.

When he was done, he reached over to squeeze your hand. "Thank you, baby. That was so good."

You smiled, squeezing his hand back. "Billy."

He recognized that look in your eye and nodded, sitting up straighter. When he'd come in the house, he'd taken off his hat, and so you could see his eyes clearly now. The sight of them comforted you.

"Billy," you started, giving his hand another squeeze. "I've been thinking about something. And I...I think it could be a really good thing for us."

"Tell me, angel," his chin lowered so you were at eye level. "I'm all ears."

He wasn't going to like this. "I want to try for another baby."

You could hear the creak of the roof, the birds singing their final notes before the sun hid behind the hills. The only silence was between the two of you. Billy's lips parted slightly in surprise. His eyes were cast on the wood of the table in front of you, and he seemed to be thinking.

Finally, he looked back up, shaking his head. "No."

"Billy just hear me out-" you tried, standing as he did. He picked up both your bowl and his, bringing them over to the counter. His hands found the edges and gripped them as you plead your case, head bowed, expression solemn. "-I know what you're thinking-"

"Daisy..." he turned around to look at you, and you saw he was slightly taken aback by your pleading eyes and desperate stance. Billy's face softened just a tad and then he stepped forward, his hand finding the nape of your neck and pushing your head forward to his lips, which found your forehead. "Daisy. No."

Your face fell. He sighed and looked down for a second. When he met your eyes again, Billy said, "Why don'tcha go on and get ready for bed? I'll clean up here and meetcha there in a minute."

It was hard to do anything but stare at him. He was trying to distract you and it wasn't working. Seeing this, Billy's hands cradled your cheeks, and he kissed your nose, nudging it with his. "Go on now. I'll be along."

Feeling dejected and slightly embarrassed, you obeyed.

When he came in from the kitchen you were in your nightdress, sitting on the edge of the bed with your knees tucked under you and brushing your hair, eyes fixed on the ground.

The sounds of him undressing were heard, and you felt the mattress dip as he settled next to you. There was a hand on your shoulder, but you didn't turn.

He swept your hair behind your shoulder, running his fingers through the freshly brushed strands. Billy loved playing with your hair. He always had. You turned to look at him, hopeful that maybe this time he would listen.

Seeing what you were about to do, Billy spoke. "I'm sorry Daisy. I didn't respond the way I should've in there." He thumbed your cheek as he muttered, "But...you have to understand why I think it's a bad idea."

"I know," you said softly, searching his eyes. "But that was different."

He let out a frustrated sigh, hanging his head for a moment. "Daisy I almost lost ya. Ain't goin' through that 'gain."

"There was a war going on," you protested. "So many things were different than they are now. "And Joe had just-" your breath hitched, and you looked away. No matter how much time passed, the sting of your brother's death still felt brand new.

Billy looked pained over it too. It'd been just as hard a hit for him; losing his best friend. But he continued. "You were havin' problems long before that. Rosie was takin' such a toll on you, honey. I woulda worried the same even if everythin' with the fire hadn't happened."

"We were kids, Billy," you insisted, squeezing his hand. "It was such a stressful situation."

"We ain't older by much," he looked down at your hands. "'sides, the older ya get the more dangerous it's gonna be."

"So we should try now while it's not dangerous," you tried.

"I'm worried it already is dangerous, sweetheart," Billy looked so sincere that you fell silent. The quiet was burning, the energy from the argument still palpable in the air. He hesitated before continuing. "We have each other. We're alive. And we're safe. Can't we just count what we've got and be content with that?"

His words made you feel guilty. Why couldn't you be happy with what you had? No, you were happy. All the pain of the past had settled into dust, even if it was kicked up every now and then. Every day you woke up and thanked your lucky stars that he was next to you, safe and sound.

But you couldn't ignore that undeniable yearning inside you. That hole Rosie had left in you could never be filled. You would always miss your baby girl. But it could be eased.

"I don't want you to think I'm not happy," you started quietly, meeting his eyes again. "I'm so, so happy. Every day I see you beside me alive and breathing is a treasure. It feels like a dream being just the two of us out here. There's no war and no bounty hanging over our heads."

Billy nodded, sensing you had more to say and staying silent.

"But a baby could be such a good thing," you smiled softly as you said it. "When I think of Rosie, and how happy I was to have her even for a minute...I know you felt it too."

He had a faraway look in his eye, and you knew he was remembering. "I know, Daisy."

Then he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. One hand came to the strap of your chemise, sliding under it and letting one finger roam up and down the skin there. You ran your fingers through his hair as he murmured, "We've spent half our lives wanting to be together like this. I don't wanna put that at risk for anything. Not even a baby."

You nodded, finally truly understanding his stance. He'd lost so many people he loved in his life. You were all he had left now. And truthfully, he was all you had too. So, with that in mind, you kissed his hair. "You're right."

He lifted his head. "I am?"

Nodding again, you gave him a little smile. "I love you. I'm so happy being here with you after everything...I think you're right. It was a reckless idea."

Billy nudged his nose against your forehead and gave it a kiss. He held his lips there for a moment. "Thank ya, baby." Wrapping his arm around you, he pulled you down to rest against him, burying his face in your hair. "Thank ya for lettin' me keep you."

That night you thought your dreams would hold cradles and babies, but they didn't. It was funny how the day before you'd wanted it so, so bad, but now that need was gone. You would have liked a baby, really, but Billy's words stuck with you.

No more losing each other.

You kept that mindset until one day when Billy was hugging you and you realized your breasts were more tender than usual.

Oh.

That had been one of the first signs when you'd figured out you were having Rosie. And the second you realized that was when you knew. It was a tiny, resolute feeling within you to match the tiny, resolute life inside you. When you missed your monthly it only confirmed it.

Nervous to tell Billy, you held off for about a week. But it built up inside you and exactly seven days after you'd realized, when you were in bed one evening with him, skin against skin, you blurted it out.

He'd looked down at you, his lips parted in surprise. But when he saw how joyful you were, how excited, his face softened, and he pulled you impossibly closer, kissing all over your face.

"It was meant to be," you whispered in the dark as you laid with your head on his shoulder. One of his hands was covering your flat tummy in a protective way.

Billy kissed your temple in response. "It was."

Your pregnancy went by quickly. With Rosie, you hadn't thought it possible for Billy to get more vigilant, but apparently you hadn't seen anything.

This baby weakened you more than Rosie had much to Billy's worry. You were bedridden for much of the second half of the pregnancy. Your husband wouldn't let you lift a single finger, and it only made you love him more. He was so determined to make this work.

When your appetite was gone, he spoon fed you soup. When your body was sore and achy he offered his hands, his arms; any of his warm body to soothe the pain. In those few moments when you cried to him that you were scared, he held you tight, telling you how strong you were, and that everything was going to be okay.

In a moment of weakness, you agreed with him that this was going to be your last baby. It had been a miracle to get this one, and you weren't going to push your body further than it could take.

Giving birth was an arduous process just like you remembered. You lived too far out of town to get to a midwife in time, and so Billy propped you up with his body, his hand squeezed between yours as he helped you breathe through the pain.

He was frightened, you could tell. And you would have been lying if you said you weren't too. The events of Rosie's coming into the world had haunted you ever since you'd found out about this baby. But Billy was here. And he'd never not be here. That eased you through the rippling cramps more than anything.

Luckily your body's natural instincts took over, and just as the sun set, you had a baby girl. And she was healthy, crying as Billy handed you to her. You laid the baby against your chest, tears falling down your cheeks as you looked at her, at her tiny body, her little fingers and toes. She was beautiful.

"You're amazing," Billy readjusted himself behind you after he'd carefully changed the bedsheets, making sure not to disturb his wife and child. He kissed your hair. "And you're feelin' alright?"

"Just tired," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off your baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in your arms, swaddled in a blanket.

He reached over to rest his hand on the baby's head, smoothing her gently. She had a smattering of dark hair just like Billy's. And you knew most babies were born with blue eyes, but you'd bet money that hers would stay that way. Just like her daddy's.

"Lookit her cheeks," you could hear the smile in his voice. "Like two little cherries." Billy ran a gentle finger down one of them. "Hi, Cherry."

"Charlotte," you reminded him, and he kissed your temple.

"Don't see why she can't have a nickname," he smiled. "I'm real good at those. Gave her mama the best one."

You smiled, leaning back against his chest. "Now's a good time to give one to her. Didn't get mine until I was nine."

"That's nine too many years without it." Billy mock shook his head in disappointment. "Shoulda been there when you popped out."

Laughing lightly, you rested your body fully against his, still watching little Cherry. Billy kept a safe arm around you, his smile tired but elated.

"You've given me everything, Daisy," he said softly, careful not to wake the baby. "You've given me everything I never thought I could have."

Billy dipped his head to kiss you softly, and you looked at him lovingly when your lips parted. "I love you, Billy. Today, tomorrow, forever."

He let out a quiet, happy laugh, his hand at that spot on the back of your head. "My Daisy..." his lips claimed yours again for just a second. "It's you and me, my love."

Your eyes sparkled. "It's you and me."

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