#I also hope your dad likes the terror

[luci-cunt]

i have to tell u that i just found out my dad is watching the terror and a) i recognized it because of seeing it on ur blog and b) my first immediate thought was of you. ur inextricably linked in my mind now with the terror

YESSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[ragingbookdragon]

Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.

“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”

She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”

“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”

“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.

“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”

“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”

Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”

She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”

“He feels bad.”

“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”

Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”

She cocks a brow. “Okay?”

“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”

“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”

“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”

She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”

“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“

“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.

“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”

He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”

“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”

“Does it ever just feel like that?”

“…no.”

Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”

She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”

She shrugs.

Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”

“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”

“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”

She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”

Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”

“You really think he will?”

“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”

She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”

Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”

“But the Lieutenant—”

“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”

[muqingslover]

Hello!! I absolutely love your take on the lads men as fathers, they make so much sense of their character!! That being said, I wanted to ask what pets you think they would own, if any?

I love your writing style!! I hope you have a good day!!!

[ this is such a cute request!! Thank you and I really hope you like it! ]

Xavier

He's snow-white fr fr

Xavier has such a tranquil energy around him that whenever he falls asleep outside you just find him covered in little birds, a random stray cat on his lap and a butterfly on his nose.

But he'd have no pets of his own because he just doesn't have the energy to give the care they deserve and the lifespan of most living creatures is too short compared to his own.

Oh not to mention if he had a pet you would probably be aaaall over it and he wants NONE of that.

He's the type that can't keep even a cactus alive because he's asleep the whole time he's not with you or working. (the official schedule post showed he sleeps way more than I thought it's crazy)

Zayne

Oh this sweet, sweet man.

He loves animals but animals do not share the feeling LMAO

He had a tortoise when he was little and we all know his passion for cats so he does like the idea of having a pet.

Because of his schedule as a surgeon I can see him having something that agrees with his busy lifestyle like those pretty fish tanks.

Not to mention the fish can't reject this poor guy and are as quiet as he is.

The plants he keeps in his house/office are like his children too and watering them is part of daily routine.

Sylus

He has Mephisto of course (and the twins jk) but I firmly believe he's one of the people who are blessed by the cat's universal system.

Here and there he'd randomly save or feed a stray and the cat would stick to him like glue.

They begin "multiplying" and eventually he has six different cats coming in and out of his house.

They're not really his but he lets them be as long as you're not allergic to them.

Mephisto is fighting for his life and staying in very high places so he's not torn to pieces.

The twins have multiple photos of Sylus asleep with the kitties and they send one to you every week.

He's like the dad that says "I don't like cats" and then he shows up with three different types of deluxe food.

Rafayel

Man's a whole fish he IS the pet.

All jokes aside, he seems the type to have a pretty bird like cockatiel or a white dove that has as much of an attitude as he does.

He definitely paints the bird and is extra enough to use the loose feathers for details to add authenticity to the piece.

100% will argue with it like the bird understands him.

"She likes you more than me! The one who raised her!" *cuts to the bird turning it's head away from him and nuzzling on the top of your head*

Strolling buddies. Every time Rafayel goes out for inspiration or just to clear his head the bird will follow him and he likes the company more than he'd ever admit.

Caleb

If he could this guy would own BIG dogs no argument.

And yes plural because he'd have at least two.

The dogs are all very well trained and absolutely adore you. Much like the owner.

He will often send you videos of them in goofy costumes he bought and he's just laughing his head off in the background.

I also feel like he used to collect bugs when he was just a brat.

He'd terrorize you and Zayne by running after you two with those big ass beetles like

"It's just a little guy! Look! :D" "*screams of horror"

[thewertsearch]

Anonymous asked: just read through your entire liveblog and wow. what a place to catch up. do you have any predictions about what the postscratch versions of the guardians will be? what about the guardian versions of the kids?

So.

Mom Lalonde, Grandpa Harley, Nanna Egbert, and Bro Strider, reborn as the story's protagonists, and thrust into a Playerdom I never expected them to bear. The consequences of this reveal are likely to kick in on the very next page - and since that's a page I'm clicking on tonight, this is my last chance for some blind speculation.

There are an absolute mountain of angles I could potentially cover here, and it's impossible to address all the implications of this twist, so I'm just going to touch on a few key questions that Act 6 will need to answer sooner rather than later.

Without further ado, let's dive into our first question.

Who, exactly, is raising these kids?

The simplest solution, of course, would be a one-to-one exchange between each Player and their Guardian. That certainly seems to be the case for Jade and Grandpa, who have been directly swapped. This would imply that Rose raised Mom, Dave raised Bro, and John might have raised Nanna. (More on that later.)

Still, that's not the only possibility. There's no reason why Dave couldn't raise the adolescent Mom instead, for example, with Rose adopting the younger Bro in his stead. That particular configuration has a lot of character potential, actually, because Bro Lalonde would undoubtedly be an unholy terror, and Mom Strider might just be one of the coolest characters I've ever conceived of.

This aesthetic, with those shades? Come on.

...all that said, though, I'm fairly sure we are just getting a one-to-one swap. That's how it appears to have worked for the trolls, and the one post-Scratch Player with a confirmed Guardian already matches this pattern.

Plus, swapping the kids with their own parents is just so interesting, on a character level, as it'd add a whole new dimension of analysis to the fucked-up relationships between Bro & Dave, Mom & Rose, and Grandpa & Jade.

Seeing how they all treat each other, now that the roles have been reversed, would be incredibly illuminating, and might shed some light on the thought processes of the pre-Scratched Guardians, as they were raising their own respective charges.

Anyway - now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about each individual family.

The Egberts

Astute readers will notice that I only mentioned the Guardian-Player parallels for three of our Players above - and that's because when it comes to the fourth, there's a slight complication.

Namely, Dad Egbert no longer exists.

This means that Nanna's home life can't parallel John's, because the man who raised John was never even born. It's possible, then, that John will simply raise Nanna himself, as her grandfather.

Honestly, that's the scenario I'm hoping for, here. Out of our four original Players, I think that John would be the best parent by far - he's sweet, resilient, and has a natural talent for nurturing the positive qualities of the people he loves. If a baby lands in his backyard, he's going to rise to the challenge, octogenarianism be damned.

...now, here's where I'd speculate a little about Nanna's personality, but she's the one post-Scratch Player I can't really get a bead on. We only ever interacted with her Spritesona, whose personality was obviously corrupted by the presence of the jester doll.

As a result, I don't really have a clue what Nanna will be like. The only thing I'm sure about, if John's the one raising her, is that she'll be loved.

The Striders

First of all, I have faith in Dave.

I think he's more or less guaranteed to be a better Guardian than his brother ever was. Granted, I don't think Dave would be particularly paternal, but I also think he'll be able to refrain from beating Bro's ass with a puppet, which is progress.

I think Dave would be a laissez-faire type of guardian, who allows the younger Bro a lot more agency and autonomy than other kids his age, but also struggles to be the adult in the room when his kid needs guidance. He's not going to be as traumatized as his younger self, but I bet it's still borderline impossible to have a serious conversation with him. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Kid Bro turned out to be the more mature of the pair.

In a nutshell, Dave was born to be a cool uncle, but was forced unwittingly into a parental role instead. He's doing his best.

Quite frankly, I'm very worried about Kid Bro.

If we assume that every Paradox Clone keeps the same Veil item as last time - and there's no reason why they wouldn't - then Bro will be coming down with Lil' Cal, the cursed puppet created by Gamzee's Chucklevoodoos.

I'm still convinced that long-term exposure to this abomination was the main reason Bro was so batshit insane, and while the younger Bro won't have been around it for quite as long, he'll still have thirteen years of an evil Juggalo's Rage miasma being beamed into his brain.

I think Kid Bro will be a little batshit, but not completely batshit. We'll see a child with the potential to become the deranged ventriloquist who tormented Dave, but one who can still be saved, if we can just get that hell puppet away from him.

Separated from Cal, I still think Bro will be a memelord, and I'm sure not all his interests came from the puppet. I think this guy was always destined to be a pretty bizarre dude - but with luck, this iteration of him will be a little more pleasant to be around.

The Lalondes

Rose... could go either way, honestly.

Just like Dave, I don't think she's the type who'd willingly choose to be a parent. Rose doesn't want a baby, she wants a library full of cursed tomes, a coven of witches to scheme with, and to live in an enormous gothic castle with her wife, Kanaya Maryam. Her ideal lifestyle couldn't handle a kid, and I think she's self-aware enough to know that, and adopt a hundred mutant kittens instead.

That said... if she had to raise a daughter, I think she'd try her best to do right by the girl. I think some part of her would absolutely resent the fact that she's a background character in someone else's life - especially if, like the Sufferer, she remembers being a Player - but she'd do everything she could to keep that resentment to herself.

Rose would be an alright mother. A little cold, maybe, and more than a little distant, but she'd still love her Roxy.

As for Roxy, I can only assume she's a gigantic fucking badass. Even among the Guardians, her barehanded combat feats were always astounding, and I think she and Kid Bro will be the primary combatants of their session.

I also think she'll be one of the most analytical, scientifically-minded Players we've ever seen. Her adult self was experimenting with Ectobiology even outside of Sburb, which suggests to me an intense curiosity about how all this shit works, which isn't present in most of our other heroes. Like Rose, she'll be a researcher, and maybe even a Seer - but while Rose searched for the truth via magic and mysticism, Roxy's research will be entirely scientific.

Honestly, the most exciting thing about finally meeting Roxy is the milestone it'll represent. I'll finally, finally have encountered every character I knew about prior to starting the comic.

The Harleys

Grandma Jade was still the Witch of Space, and was clearly aware of that fact.

This tells us that:

John, Rose and Dave also retained their Titles, even if they don't know it.

Grandma Jade was probably aware of Sburb and its secrets, especially if she was living near the Frog Temple.

Grandma Jade was the Witch of Space. She's gone.

...and I have a theory about what happened to her.

I think that when Grandpa was a baby, Jade travelled to Anachronism Island, just like her predecessor did - but this time around, it wasn't Bec who greeted her at the Temple.

No, I think Jade had a fatal encounter with the new First Guardian of Earth - a corrupted First Guardian, spliced with the same HONK code that created Scratch. Kid Grandpa clearly survived whatever happened next, and I think it's horribly plausible that the new First Guardian is a pseudo-Guardian to him, the same way Becquerel was to Jade.

In other words, this kid might be completely compromised, manipulated by English's servant since infancy. Let's not forget that he's the one who suggested making the bunny to Jade, which is the reason Jack was able to ascend in the first place...

...but someone suggested it to him, first.

Anyway, those are my high-level thoughts about the new timeline's key players. We'll be starting Act 6 in an hour or so, and I've got a feeling that we're about to see Nanna standing in a very familiar room.

After all, it just so happens that today...

[trumpkinhotboy]

I'll keep an eye on you - II

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: bit angsty and fluffy

warnings: none

word count: 3400

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia, heartstopper

a/n: hope you enjoy this lil part 2 !! also I really want to thank @tgarrett26 for helping me with this fic (you are awesome) + they are the reason there is even a pt.2 hehe

part I part III

*gif is not mine

summary: After one night of respite, the reader confronts the day to realize the shadows haven't quite disappeared yet.

There's a timid sunbeam lighting up your cozy little room. Nothing scary or menacing in view. You look over to your nightstand with barely opened eyes to see your mushroom light still on. The clock on your desk shines the time. 7:00am. 

7am?!

You sit straight up, immediately noticing the big dent on the left side of your bed. Yes, of course, Jacob came in last night. Your cheeks flush with the thought of having slept so soundly next to the heaping mountain of muscles that is your friend. You feel so confused and well-rested. For the first time in a few weeks, you awoke calmly. This might have been the best night of sleep of your whole damn life, and it's 7:00am! You managed to wake up before your alarm. You wouldn't have to be rushing to school for once. You were usually only able to fall asleep when the sun started shining and chased away the threatening shadows of the night. So, being late to school was a recurring occurrence for you. For once, your father wouldn't have to come in to try and wake you up. You were pushing away your blankets to get up when there was a knock on your door before it slowly cracked open.

"Sweetheart, time to wake up. Don't want to be late for sch-"

Your father's traits lifted up in surprise, and honestly, you couldn’t really blame the man. You didn't keep track of all the mornings he found you all tangled up in your blankets, hair sprawled everywhere like a bird's nest, saliva drooling down your chin.

"Did you sleep well?"

You nodded eagerly, a sincere smile spreading on your lips. Charlie seemed incredibly thrilled by that piece of news. He was no stranger to the nightmares haunting your nights and was brokenhearted to see you so tired and on edge all the time.

"Well, then. Better get down and eat breakfast before you head to school." He gave you a timid smile before softly closing your door.

You had your first breakfast with your dad in a long time. He was particularly chirpy, and you kept catching his relieved gaze. You left for school on time and had a really great day. You felt awake and energized. Participating in class and your little social circle once again felt like a rush. Your efforts were welcomed with gigantic smiles from your teachers and friends. For a second, you thought the weeks of anguish and terror might finally be behind you. Maybe a night with Jacob had been the only thing you needed to put this whole thing behind you. However, as the sun went down and shadows stretched on the ground, you got more flinchy and twitchy. Once more, you turned at every odd sound, looking over your shoulder as you left the school grounds. You almost ran to your car, locking all the doors, and left a trail of dust with how fast you headed back home on the powdery roads of Forks. 

Dinner with your father was much more somber than the breakfast you shared this morning. You felt like a dagger to your heart, his disappointment when he saw you jump as he caught you by surprise in the kitchen. You usually were always careful about hiding your internal conflict from Charlie. Yet the frustration you felt tonight weighed much more than the want to hide everything from him.

Once dinner was over, you climbed the stairs with heavy steps, feeling the dread in your body get worse the closer you got to your bedroom. You opened the door to find a space very different than the one you had left when you awoke this morning. Your still unmade bed didn't feel so inviting tonight. Long gone were the rays of sunshine that scared the shadows away. The room you faced was now dark and gloomy. Nothing about it felt safe or secure.

You rushed in to turn on your mushroom light and sat on your bed, trying to summon all your courage to breathe calmly. 

It's over now. Nightmares are just that. They aren't real. I'm safe now.

No matter how much you would repeat it, those words felt empty and fake. You got up, put your pajamas on, and as you were ready to get in bed, you noticed a piece of clothing jutting out from under one of the pillows. You lifted it up to find the T-shirt you lent to Jacob. He didn't keep it. He left your house shirtless so you could keep the stupid piece of clothing. You grabbed it and held it up to your nose. Immediately, your senses were overpowered by his woodsy scent. You fell to your bed, shirt still pressed on your face as you let a deep sigh leave your lungs.

Grabbing your phone on the night table, you hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you closed the device and threw it away.

The clock had just struck midnight when you heard something scratching outside. You almost had a heart attack when you saw Jacob hanging onto your window, motioning for you to open it.

"Jacob Black. What the hell are you doing? Do you want to kill me?!"

Your tall friend let out a deep chuckle as he swiftly stepped into your room without making a noise. His gaze fell onto the fort you had built yourself. There were pillows and blankets lined all around your bed, a very feeble attempt at a barrier. The tv screen was paused on one of your favorite movie. He gave you a worried look and took a second to really take in the state you were in. You didn't look like the relaxed girl he had, reluctantly, left in a peaceful slumber this morning.

"What?" you defensively crossed your arms on your chest, already sensing where this conversation would be going.

"What are you doing?" he quietly asked, his head slightly leaning on one side.  

"I was watching a movie." 

You immediately saw a shadow pass in his dark eyes and felt a familiar pain ring in your chest. You couldn't live with disappointing both your father and Jacob. Worse, you couldn't live with the pity in their eyes. If only the bad dreams could stay away. 

"What are you doing," you finally asked, a bit more roughly than you had intended.

He hesitated, sensing you had been offended in some way. "I just did a quick run around the perimeter, but then I saw the light open and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Your expression softened at the concern painted on his handsome face. Fear did make you more on edge, but you knew Jacob had done nothing to deserve that anger. You sighed before plopping down on your bed.

"That's very nice of you, but I am okay. I just didn't feel tired yet." 

You felt adamant about telling him of the return of the paranoia. You were already so disappointed in yourself. You couldn't even muster the bravery to be in your room alone at night. What would it even do if you told him the truth? It felt so shameful to ask again for his help, to ask him to watch over you while you were sleeping. Just because, like a child, you were afraid of the dark and the beasts it hid. You were instantly relieved when he gave you a suspicious glance as if he might believe your lie. You gave him your best smile, trying to prove how relaxed you were. You only wanted to chase the worries away from his chocolate eyes. 

That could have worked if only the sound of your house creaking under a strong gust of wind and a branch scratching on your window hadn't made you flinch so damn hard. 

Jacob's gaze hardened over your tense figure. You expected him to make a comment, to confront you. As you waited anxiously for the ax to drop, he finally walked over to your bed, sat, and pointed to your television.

"May I join you then?"

You initiated him to one of your best comfort movies. It required absolutely no brain power and just helped you feel better. Always a good player, Jake obliged and even seemed to enjoy it. When you were done, you spent another hour just chatting about nothing and everything. You tried hiding your clock from his sight and hoped he wouldn't notice time flying away, but sadly, there wasn't much your figure could hide from his wolfish sight.

"It's getting late. I should probably go," He muttered after an hour of mindless chatting. His dark eyes fixed on your features, you faced each other, forearms tucked under your head while you lay on your side. You couldn't help your shoulders and jaw from tensing up at his words. The happiness and carelessness he had brought you vanished as if it never occurred. Fear crept up in your belly at the thought of being alone in the dark again. 

You gave him a tight smile as you nodded. He hesitantly got up, giving you another weird look. You barely registered it, too focused on avoiding falling into a panicked state. He walked to the window, and as you thought he was about to leave, he turned around on a whim.

"I really don't understand you. Even in this state, you won't ask for my help?" 

His outburst surprised you and unintentionally made you recoil at the swift motion. He sighed deeply, "Please don't look at me like this. I want to understand. Why don't you want my help?" he repeated, annoyance rippling in waves from his body.

"I- I'm not sure what you're talking about," you responded, determined to hang on to the shred of dignity you had left.

He let out a sarcastic laugh. It was dry and reeked of disdain towards this fluke you were trying to fool him with. "Stop playing Y/n. You reek of fear." 

His words were like a punch in the gut. You felt shame hitting you as you realized how stupid you had been. 

"See? Your reaction only confirms what I already knew. What I don't understand is why you insist on facing this alone. You can always call me, and I will always come through for you. Have I not proven that?" 

"You did, but it's not your responsibility to fix me. To fix this."

"Not my responsibility?" he scoffed. He turned around while dragging his hand through his hair. He was a mix of so many emotions you couldn't pinpoint what was brewing in his brain. He stayed silent for so long that you thought he would leave you like this. You were about to add something when he raised his voice. "I would give everything to go back to that night. To be there by your side. Maybe you wouldn't have to go through that, or at least I would have been the one to rip to shreds that bloodsucker." Flames of rage danced in his eyes while you stood speechless, gawking at him. 

You were at a loss for words. You had seen Jake in many different states in your friendship, but he never looked so conflicted. Anger and sadness seemed to be battling out the right to overpower him. For a rare moment, he looked incredibly vulnerable. He was back to being that innocent teenager you had always known. You approached, unsure whether that would make him lash out, but he stayed put, his eyes fixed on the ground. You knew Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you. What you didn't know is that he tortured himself with it. Your heart ached at the thought, and any frustration you had felt up to this point melted.

Softly, you grabbed his hand. "Jacob, look at me."

When he finally turned around and lifted his gaze, tears hung on to the line of his long lashes. The sight of it made your throat close up. 

"Why won't you let me care for you," he whispered, inches from you. 

His gaze was so deep and carried a tsunami of emotions. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed his face. Both of your hands cradled his soft and warm skin. You saw goosebumps creep up his muscled arms, mirroring the one on yours. Bringing his forehead to your own, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Saying the words that'd been ringing in your head for so long felt almost exhilarating while also being incredibly relieving. Contrary to the belief of your messed up head, the world didn't end or break in two once the thought left your lips. 

"I've always thought you were such an incredible person and couldn't help but always want to be better for you. Ever since you phased, that feeling only got more intense. You've evolved so much in the past few months, and I'm still old me. When I got attacked, it was the most horrible experience of my life, but it also reinforced that concept. I couldn't even walk from yours to Emily's cabin without being attacked. The boys had to risk their lives to save me. I didn't even get one scratch, and still, I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid to sleep alone. I'm afraid if I let my guard down for one second... it'll happen again. Which means that I'll either die or be a burden for you guys once more because I can't even defend myself against something like that. You're already so good to me. I don't want to add this to your list of things to worry about." 

Your eyes stayed closed even after you finished and controlled your breathing again. Saying it aloud was incredible, but to open your eyes to face his reaction felt nerve-racking. You were about to when a strong pair of arms wrapped around you. 

"You are not and will never be a burden to me." His tone was soft and felt a little strangled. In your dimly lit little room, while the rest of the world was in a peaceful slumber, Jacob's words felt like the only thing that mattered.

He pulled back after a moment but still held you close. "I don't know what gave you the impression that you were a burden. If it ever was something I did, I want to apologize."

"I remember so vividly the look on your face when the boys brought me back to the cabin. You had the same disappointed expression as you have just now. I promise I'm trying to heal as fast I can, but this... this is harder than I thought it would be."

Confusion was now the only emotion on his face, clear as day. "Disappointed? Y/n, I never was disappointed. It was the worst, terrifying, shit your pants kind of fear I've ever felt. It's agony to know you're so ridden with fear. I was disappointed to learn that tonight was still hard for you, not because I think you're not healing fast enough, but because I hoped I finally helped you feel better. I feel so bad you have to live with these memories for your whole life. I just wish I could make them disappear." 

That's when you understood the slim difference between disappointment and defeat. One was channeled towards you, and the other wasn't. For Jacob, it had always been directed at himself.

"Jacob, you're the only one who makes me breathe a little easier. You're the only reason I slept soundly last night." A new light illuminated his eyes. You steadied yourself before you continued, your tone slightly hushed. "You've always had that specific calming effect on me. You're the only person who makes things better for me. Ever since we were kids. I have always felt safe with you. You're like my personal haven." 

It felt like a big thing to say, but you wanted that sadness to leave his face. You wanted his eyes to be filled with light again, and somehow, it felt right to tell him about all this. He spent so much time worrying about everything and everyone. He deserved to know how appreciated he was. He deserved to know what he meant to you.

Emotion thickened the air. So much so that it felt like you couldn't breathe just right. Your hands slid from his cheeks delicately. You placed one at the nape of his neck while the other grabbed the top of his hair. "Jake, I don't think you even understand how much you mean to me."

Time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused on each other, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

 "Y/n, I-" his eyes held something heavier. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something before deciding better of it. It almost looked like it cost him to try and get the words out. He gave up in a huff, and whatever was in his gaze, whatever he thought about, vanished. Some part of you wanted to push him, to ask, but tonight had been a rollercoaster enough. You could let it go for now. He pulled you in for another hug before releasing you a little.

"So, now that we've established that you are not a burden." he started softly.

"And that this is in no way your fault," you added with a grin. 

He rolled his eyes, "Uhm. Can you tell me what you actually need? I can stay here with you if you want."

You felt a pang of your old fears scratch at your heart, but you let them all go in one breath. "I would very much like that."

You tucked yourselves in bed for the second night in a row. You hesitated to turn off the light, but always so observant, Jacob assured you it didn't bother him to keep it open. You lay side by side in silence. You were focused on becoming familiar with the ordinary and hazardous sounds an old house made at night when Jacob started to whisper.

"I know you think you aren't as fearless as us, but I can assure you everyone in our tribe thinks you are the bravest person they've ever met. Not many people would feel comfortable hanging out with a bunch of new werewolves." 

"Brave or totally crazy," you added while making a wicked-looking face. His eyes disappeared in his bright smile, and you wished you could snap a picture of it. 

"No, but really, you're the only one who stayed by my side all throughout my phasing process. No matter how dangerous it was for you. If that's not the definition of bravery, I don't know what is." He turned pensive again while his gaze darkened.

You unwillingly recalled the phasing process of Jacob. All the terrible memories flashed before your eyes. His screams of pain still rang in your ears. You remember distinctly every time you wished to take his place. If you could have taken away some of his pain, you would have in an instant. The least you could do was stay by his side no matter what. You had to fight with Billy and the rest of the pack, but in the end, even they couldn't keep you away. No one could have.

You slid into his arms, and his body tensed under the new touch before quickly relaxing to envelop you in a tight embrace. 

"I would never leave you alone," you mumbled in his chest. "I know you like to have this strong and impressive appearance, but inside, you're still the same little Jacob I've always known. I know you need me."

You lightly pressed your lips onto his chest and nuzzled farther into him. Fireworks were exploding in the boy's chest as he returned the gesture with a kiss on your head.

"And Jake?"

"Uhm?"

"Don't think I didn't notice you wanted to tell me something important earlier. For tonight, it's okay, but we'll have to talk about that."

[shadesoflsk]

        MOONTALK

pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN Reader.

summary: After retiring, Leon often has nightmares about his past. Talking under the moon's gaze seems to help.

warnings: Smut MDNI, just oral (m receiving), angst to fluff to smut hehe, mentions of death, violence, and alcohol, catholic symbolism, dad bod leon hehe (x2) subby leon, reader is called spouse.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: Hello! This is very simple since I'm trying to get better at writing smut for gender neutral readers :) There's not enough content and while I improve at writing the whole sex scene I shall bring you this! (I'm open to suggestions or constructive criticism.) As always, I hope you're having a good week!

The starry night is chosen to be Leon’s witness in the middle of his stolen slumber. 

It’s a common occurrence, part of himself longs for the pain-filled activity since it serves as a reminder of his own life. Night terrors scare him more than his anxiety. The first one clings to his soul and threatens him with an inability to wake up. Helpless to his own mind, he prefers to be fully awake.

However, his brain isn’t his friend. Even when awake and aware of his surroundings, his mind would recreate scenarios he has lived before. Blood dripping and sticking to his combat boots, the smell of the iron-ish liquid filling his nostrils painfully making its home in Leon’s head, messing up with his perception of the world and himself.

Somewhere in that messed up path, he had found you. 

He didn’t intend to, it wasn’t in his plans to. He had locked his heart and thrown the key somewhere in the sea of his failures. 

A feeling of regret brimmed in Leon’s soul. How could his name be attached to yours if the sole mention of Leon Scott Kennedy brought memories of hell on Earth? A former rookie cop, ready to risk his life on duty turned into the government's best weapon.  He’s made peace with that, ever since his mission in San Francisco his life has gotten significantly better.

But that doesn’t mean it has stopped hurting.

He once heard Jesus presented his left cheek to be slapped. In the past, he’d have imagined the mere thought of being that naive was ridiculous.

“You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.”

Now, that passage has been planted in his heart like a thorn that wouldn't go away no matter how much he pinched the skin. But rather than being a bothersome feeling, it shaped him into the man he is now.

He would never be Jesus, he knows that much. Ever since he was a kid, his connection to religion was always dangling between trust and distrust; faith and doubt. Fear crossed his juvenile and innocent expression whenever he came across a statue of the people’s lord and savior.

God bad, Jesus good. People good and bad. The Old Testament was the backbone for Leon’s hatred towards God. If this supernatural being ‘loved’ his people, why would he punish them?

Sins are ambiguous. Killing is bad. But if he had killed creatures that were no longer humans, is he a sinner without redemption?

He’s still coming around that last statement. Were they really no longer humans?

That’s why he prefers the New Testament. A fresh start, a new life being born. Jesus wouldn’t judge him for the man that he was and is. 

And just like him, he turned his left cheek in a mission in San Francisco years ago, when he ended Maria’s life. Bitter and revengeful for killing her father, the woman made it her mission to murder Leon. But ultimately (and ironically) she ceased to exist in Leon’s arms. 

‘Revenge’ was met with a ‘Now you can be with your dad again.’ Merciful, he had granted her a last moment of peace.

The soundless night heightens Leon’s senses. As he tries to brush off his worries, some footsteps break the unnerving silence that Leon is in. His ears focus on the soft pace that he easily identifies as yours. 

Recognition turned into monotone and monotone into mundane. And don’t get him wrong, God he loves feeling he has finally found his home.

Leon’s arms are resting on the balcony railway, blue eyes focused on the starry night. 

“You should be sleeping.” He flatly says without turning to face you. Not out of apathy but guilt. Not being next to you has woken you up.

“Can’t sleep without my husband.” 

Sensing you approaching, he opts to tease, trying to divert your attention somewhere else. “Wouldn’t be my dear spouse if you weren’t clingy.”

“I’m not clingy.” But you wouldn’t allow Leon’s usual antics. You know them by heart, lighthearted jokes instead of facing reality. “I’m just worried,”

“You worry too much.”

“But I’m always right.”

A sigh. 

Teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

“It’s hard to sleep sometimes.” The phrase is not directed at you, but a response to his own thoughts. For him, safe and sound sleep is a blessing he’s not lucky enough to receive. 

“I know.” And then again, your reply isn’t about yourself. A feeble smile appears on your face out of empathy and partial understanding. Standing next to him, your elbows rest on the balcony railway, the chill air sending goosebumps through your skin. “Did you dream about something?”

Leon’s eyebrows knit in concentration as he mull over her question. When he tries recalling his past moment of slumber he is met with the usual gruesome scenario and the same gut-wrenching screams.

“Same old tale.” He exhales. In the past he would have had a glass of whiskey in his hand, tilting the content to one side as he gazed over the starry sky. But he made a promise, and as much as his past comes back to haunt him, he’d keep it. 

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Why I don't believe you?”

He brings a calloused hand to his mouth as he registers your words. Under the moonlight, his expression gives away his exhausted state, a hint of darkness around his eyes, a permanent faint frown. 

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yet here I am asking.” It’s not until now that you notice Leon’s shirtless torso. Most of his scars are turning a light white color while his bruises are changing their hues. His body is not the same from a few years ago. His abdomen no longer shows off his chiseled abs but a slightly round and soft belly. 

“Feels like I’m walking in circles.” He finally answers with his eyes closed. His restless mind can’t give him a break. Unable to completely live in peace, he finds himself pondering about his own humanity.

“The past is always clearer at night.” With an expression akin to resignation, he looks at you. “And the past tells me I’m a monster.”

The faint sound of the clock could be heard even when they were both gazing into the sky and letting their thoughts be consumed by the chill night. It reaches the dreaded ‘Devil’s hour,’ 3 AM. 

“You aren’t a monster.” And it is the truth. While Leon is a complex man, it is not a difficult task to unravel and search through the layers he has covered himself in. His heart beats for the nation and therefore its citizens. 

“If I’m not a monster then what am I?” He replies, his face growing somber. “If what I’ve done isn’t destruction what is it?”

“Salvation.” 

It is far from salvation. It’s selfish to even think that way.

Sadly, Leon was the designated pawn to complete the job nobody wants to do. 

Sadly, Leon is no more than a victim in the web of despair and destruction.

“Salvation.” He scoffs, a sharp ironic demonstration that your words weren’t the best. “I used to fight while the innocents kept falling at my feet.”

A glimpse of a past self appears in front of you. Chaos and loathing unfurls. 

It’s been years since you last saw the man who used to drown himself in the deadly burning liquid. However, the alcohol no longer filled the empty spaces in his body and soul.

Truthfully speaking, nobody can fix or heal anyone. But you gladly took the role of being Leon’s partner in life. Not only romantically speaking. Silently, you made a home in Leon’s heart and he was too comfortable with you to ask you to leave him. 

“You didn’t do it in the first place.” You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The government did.”

“But I was just another bullet in a gun.” He replies softly, his gaze drifting forward. Even after all of these years, he couldn’t completely shake off the guilt that kept haunting him. “Another man with his finger on the trigger… I was just a man with a gun.” 

“And you’re also a man with a heart.” You respond immediately, not giving him a chance to continue his venom-filled words toward himself. 

“If you were the demon you think you are, these late-night thoughts wouldn’t be haunting you as they do. You wouldn’t be mourning every soul even after all these years.” Your words bring a sense of comfort amidst the internal battle that is occurring inside him. The weight of his burden has always been more bearable with you.

“You think I’m that much of a saint?” A faint smile tug at Leon’s lip. A troubled expression on his face tells you he is still not believing your words. Or perhaps, he feels like he shouldn’t believe you.

“I don’t think you’re a saint. Humans are much more than black or white, good or bad. We are gray.”

Your statement is true. Humans are far from being one-dimensional beings. The balance has always been there and he knows it. When he was a child and religion was still an important part of his life, he remembers when Jesus protected Mary Magdalene. 

‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.’

Leon had stained his hands with blood and gore, but he had also saved countless lives when the odds were against him.

“God… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” He laughs, finally bringing you closer to him with his arm around your waist.

“No, you’re just human.”  You reply, admiring the view your balcony provides, you think about the endless possibilities in life. If you hadn't met Leon, where would you be? And if Leon hadn't met you? How his life would look right now?

Universe works in mysterious ways, if you hadn't been in the right place at the right time, you wouldn't have your soulmate next to you.

A comfortable silence sets in as Leon finally relaxes and gives his mind a break. There were days and nights in which his brain was weak, but that doesn’t mean he hasn't gotten better.

“I would do laundry and taxes with you in every timeline.” You break the silence with a quote from a movie both of you had watched and Leon being the moviegoer he is, you know he’ll recognize it.

“That's not how the line goes, you silly.” 

Bingo.

“Then enlighten me, Mr. I know every movie by heart.”

“It is ‘in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.’” He states matter-of-factly which gains a laugh from you. But in a way, you’re used to his antics and almost nerdy personality only you get to see.

But your words mixed with the ones from the movie hold a glimmer of truth. Even in a timeline in which he wasn’t an agent and just a regular citizen, you’d have fallen for him. Because his past doesn’t make him the man he is now. 

In another life, you’d love him over and over again.

“But I’d do all those things in this life and even in the afterlife.”

His eyes fall on you, the glimmer in them now being obvious. Just a few words from his love would pull him out from his depressive nights.

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“I’m just amazing like that.” You wrap your arms around Leon's neck while his hands rested on your middle section. “Now hug me because I’m fucking freezing.”

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Laughing, he pulls you closer in a tight embrace. “I’d hate for you to catch a cold. Besides… I need my cuddling partner every night.”

As both of you move out of the balcony and away from the cold wind of the night. Leon’s hands move painfully obvious to your rear. After his late thoughts, he only wants to feel you close to him.

“I don’t think you want to cuddle.” You remark the obvious. Leon just chuckles, nodding.

“Aside from being the perfect partner you’re also a mind reader?”

You step in your bedroom. Place that has been witness to Leon’s most vulnerable moments, from the times in which he'd come back from a mission to the ones in which both of you would get lost in each other's bodies.

His sanctuary, your heaven.

You smile at him as you motion him to sit down on the bed. Both of your eyes are locked in a gaze that says what you are feeling, love. No matter how hard his or your days could be, both of you could always come back to a partner that takes care of them. No matter the situation.

As he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, you lean closer and press a kiss to his forehead, to his nose, to his cheek, and lastly to his lips. This last one lingers more than the others, sweet and slow, like how you want to treat him tonight.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull back from the kiss, your thumb grazing over his stubbled jaw.

“Love you more.” He responds with the same tenderness you have brought him. After saying his words, his hands traveled to where your hips were, attempting to pull you closer.

“Nuh-uh. Tonight’s about you, sir.” You have your mind set that this night is going to be all about the perfect husband you have in front of you.

With that, your lips once again found their home but this time it was on Leon’s neck. 

With your lips giving some attention to Leon’s sensitive skin, you treat him like he was fragile porcelain. 

After a few moments, you slowly lower yourself until you're between his thighs. Another reminder of how much his body has changed, his thighs were fuller and bit less toned than before.

He has seen you like this before, on your knees and with the sweetest of looks but dear God it gets better every day. 

You press your cheek against Leon’s inner thigh, your hand rubbing the flesh that is still covered with his sweatpants. He was no longer an active agent therefore he had gained some weight which you completely love. He blames the alcohol he used to drink so much and the lack of high-impact exercise.  But you always reassure him that you love him nonetheless. 

Your hand creeps to his clothed crotch, you gently trace along the bulge that has already formed. Leon’s breath is starting to get heavier but nothing too scandalous, for now. 

“I haven’t even touched properly and you’re already this hard.” You are trying to be gentle, but there’s something about having control over him even when you’re on your knees that just prompts you to tease him a hit.

“Might as well cum in the spot, don’t you think? Bet you’re already imagining me pulling down your boxers and stroking your cock.” The face Leon was making could send you straight to heaven. 

“You’re the devil…” Leon tries, he tries to gather himself by making a joke. But his high-pitched speech comes out pathetic. A rebuttal? More like a whine.

“What? My handsome husband can’t handle the spice? I expected better.” The praise seems to hit a spot somewhere in his body because the way his hips just bucked and sought the friction of your hand was contradictory to his previous words.

“Please…” And after that whimper, you no longer want to tease the man. Especially tonight in which he deserves the best. 

“Ok, ok. I gotcha…” You murmur, wasting no more time and pulling his sweatpants down. A wet spot is already formed in his gray boxers. Then again, more teasing words flood your mind but you brush them off.

With a gentle kiss on his inner thigh, your fingers hook around the fabric and slide it down. His dick springs forward, and as always, it makes your mouth water. It’s the same image as always, slightly curved lenght with veins you had memorized by now and a reddish tip that tells you how bothered and pent-up he’s been.

Marriage has always been depicted as a boring and monotonous lifestyle, in which you get bored of your spouse after a couple of years. In a sense, you understand where they come from. However, Leon and you always made sure to keep things interesting, and as corny as it sounds, both of you try to make the other fall in love again.

You press a kiss on his tip, holding back a laugh as you know how sensitive he must be. The slightest touch has him gripping the bedsheets. 

“You’re teasing.” He says as his lips form a pout. His calloused hands flatten on top of your hair 

“Am I?” You give his shaft a few kitten licks, not breaking eye contact while doing so. 

Finally, your shenanigans are followed by your lips wrapping around his tip, sucking the area. That gains a whimper out of Leon, the ones you’re so used to. 

When you first met the stoic agent, you wouldn’t have thought that he’d be so vocal in bed. Even when he was supposed to be on top, he’d let the most beautiful moans against your ears. asking for permission to continue, asking for permission to fill you up.

For a moment, your lips continue sucking off his tip. Your saliva coating the area and sloppily making out with the head of his dick. Your fingers wrap around the base of it, almost overwhelming Leon with the amount of attention he is receiving. 

“Ah — Fuck…” His eyes roll back as you finally take him whole. The previous ministrations long forgotten as your mouth and part of your throat surround his sensitive cock. 

You bob your head, slowly at first, controlling your breath as Leon involuntarily thrusts his hips making his tip hit the back of your throat. You place your hand on Leon’s thigh, to motion him to stand still. 

“Shit — sorry, sorry…” His voice gets slightly higher, now his previous words turn into pleas or straight-up moans. Drool pools at the corner of your mouth as your tongue runs on the underside of his cock. 

“Too good for me…” He’s reduced to just babbles and whines, his knuckles turn white as keeps on gripping the bedsheets, an awful attempt to drown more moans. As you continuously bob your head, Leon could feel his high coming.

Unconsciously and given his dazed out state, he brings his leg to your shoulder. You were completely focused on him and this simple action made your concentration break a bit. He’s putty in your hands, his brain no longer functioning whenever you are in control.

You’d edge him, you’d definitely tease him for that. But now, you just continue sucking him off with the inner side of his thigh brushing against your cheek. 

“I’m gonna  — Fuck…” It’s not a warning, but a comment, a needy announcement. As much as he denies it, there’s not a better image than seeing you covered with his cum, or watching you swallow it whole. It made him feel a sense of pride, knowing that his spouse is the one making him come undone. 

And as your tongue runs along a vein, he couldn’t contain it any longer. With a high pitched whine and throwing his head back, he spills down your throat.

The warm liquid fills your mouth and some of it drips from the corner of your lips. 

You stay still for a moment, collecting every last drop of Leon’s cum. When you feel Leon’s hand on your shoulder —the one that doesn’t have his leg on it— you know he was asking you for a break. 

Pulling out with a pop, you gently move his leg for him to rest. 

For a few seconds, you just massage your jaw as Leon tries to recover. Heavy breaths fill the dark room, allowing you to relax once again.

“You good?” You ask as you are sitting down on the floor. 

“Yeah — Just… give me a second.” He laughs, closing his eyes. A loving smile forms on his face. 

You laugh too, getting up from the floor, you admire the scene Leon provides you: All of his body exposed to you, his sweatpants and boxers pooling at his ankles, and his fucked out expression. 

Heaven.

After a minute or so, Leon composes himself. 

“I’ll make sure to wake up every night if this is the treatment I get.”

“Next time I will just tie you up to the bed.”

“Oh? I like the sound of that.”

Laughing, you slap his naked chest as he pulls you closer. Nights like this are a reminder of his humanity and his right to love and to be loved. The past can never be changed or forgotten, but he can learn from it.

💬shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

author's note 2: I just had to mention eeaao! It's one of my favorite movies and I know Leon would love it. Sorry if it was too sappy of me but then again... I'm always like that.

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) so i tried to write something different and this one is supposed to be funny, it's embarrassing and i had fun writing it, i hope you guys enjoy it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

funny word count: 1,1k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

You woke up excited on your birthday, excited for the dinner Mason promised you would have at a new restaurant, but you had new plans before dinner.

Mason had training during the day and you agreed on a time that you would go to his house, so around four thirty in the afternoon you were at the mall looking for something to give Mason, even though it was your birthday.

You already knew what you wanted when you walked into a lingerie store, you chose a very sexy red lingerie, the fabric had lace and was transparent, you could see everything through the fabric.

Mason would go crazy when he looked at you. 

You've left the store with the lingerie on, just the loose dress on top, and you also bought a robe of the same color and transparent to wear on top. That was the plan, you would surprise Mason with sexy lingerie and then you would go out to celebrate your birthday together.

You arrived at Mason's house and while you were in the car you took off your dress to put your robe on top, leaving your clothes on the floor of the car. You also put on black high heels, which looked very sexy and Mason loved when you wore them. 

You couldn't wait to see his reaction when he saw you.

You grabbed Mason's house keys and texted him to let him know you had arrived. You ran to the door so no one on the street could look at you too much, after all, you were wearing see-through lingerie.

You opened the door to his house smiling, and when you turned on the living room light-

“SURPRI…”

There were at least twenty people in Mason's room, and you could see all of their smiles fade, just like yours, when they looked at what you were wearing.

You couldn't breathe anymore when your eyes saw Debbie and Tony, or your mother and father staring at you in terror. There were so many shocked faces, you couldn't count how many.

Mason was the most shocked of all, and he had a shocked expression as he held the birthday cake.

You would rather die right now.

“What the fuck?” you said to yourself as you slid down the door to the floor. Anything would be better right now, a lightning bolt to the head, passing out, going back two minutes and forgetting about this crazy idea of ​​surprising Mason with new lingerie.

“What the hell, Y/n?” that was your dad, incredulous that his daughter would be capable of doing something so naughty.

“I can’t breathe” you muttered, and now some people were starting to hold back their laughter because of the situation. Mason was still standing there staring at you. 

Your mom, dad, Debbie, Tony, Lewis, Jaz and the girls, your siblings, your nephews, some of your friends, and some of Mason's teammates who had become your friends. Your grandma and grandpa were sitting on the couch.

Lewis had his phone turned around and you have no doubt that Stacey, back in Australia, had seen the scene. 

“Someone kill me now” You groaned and put your head on your knees, wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear, never to face any of them again. Ever again.

How would you live from that day on? The most shameful day of your life. The day you ruined your reputation.

Your father would tell everyone that you are not his daughter, and your mother would die of shame forever if she found out that her daughter loves to wear lingerie for her boyfriend.

“Y/n… why- why are you using this?” Mason asked, still holding the cake that was now starting to fall out of his hand. You could see when your sister walked up to Mason and took the cake from his hands, and half of their faces were still shocked.

“Why is everyone here?” you retorted, feeling your face hot and probably as red as a tomato.

“That's the whole point of a surprise party” your mother spoke and you swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. 

You heard a loud laugh and were surprised to see your nanna laughing, and then you started to hear other laughs, realizing that everyone was having fun because of your embarrassment.

It's a real horror movie, and it doesn't even need death.

“Remember when the same thing happened to me?” she asked her grandfather between laughs, and he laughed in agreement. “It was the worst day of my life.”

Your grandmother was crying with laughter and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you thought about what to do. Mason walked up to you and you could see the panic on his face.

“Why did you wear that? It's four thirty in the afternoon.”

“Well, I didn't know you were throwing a party for me at four-thirty in the afternoon.”

“That's why we call it a surprise party.”

“I'm moving to Alaska tomorrow.”

“Come, you need to change your clothes” Mason pulled you in and held you against him. You were so nervous you could barely walk because your legs were shaking so much that Mason held you all the way to the bedroom.

Luckily you had some clothes at his house, and you didn't say anything as you put on a pink dress, nothing immodest.

You were ready to go downstairs when Mason started laughing, and he laughed so hard that he had to lie down on the bed, holding his stomach because of the laughter.

It's not funny at all.

Mason had tears streaming down his face from how hard he was laughing, and when you realized what had happened, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, then another, and then you were sitting on the floor laughing with Mason.

“Never again” you tried to speak between the laughs. “I will never wear lingerie for you again.”

“You had to see your face” Mason shouted, shaking with laughter. 

“Well, I saw all of your faces and now I have no family left.”

“Stacey was on the call.”

Mason could barely breathe, and it was great that you guys turned such an embarrassing moment into something funny, but it would take a lot for you to be able to face your in-laws and parents again.

“This is the worst day of my life, Mason.”

“Oh shut up, I've never laughed so much in my life.”

“It's good that you're having fun, from today on I'll only wear pants and jackets.”

“No ma'am, you will wear that lingerie tonight.”

“I'm going to throw myself into the river with this lingerie.”

“You need to get down now.”

Mason helped you up while still laughing, and you took a deep breath before opening the bedroom door and hearing people talking in the living room.

Everyone has to face the walk of shame at some point.

[generalluxun]

Revisiting S5 E14 Derision, and Making it Work

It's *easy* to dunk on Derision. I won't rehash all the holes here. What is harder is actually doing better... or so you would think.

What follows is a back-of-the-napkin idea I threw together in about 5 minutes. So I hope it doesn't meet with universal... derision. 🐈‍⬛

Reworking this episode reaches back earlier into S5 and recasts one of the side/new characters... but bear with me it's to good purpose. When you're creating a pivotal pre-canon character moment 5 seasons in, there's going to be a little collateral.

It begins with... Socqueline.

Socqueline was NOT Marinette's savior at FDP. In truth... she was Marinette's bully. She was everyone's bully in fact. She ruled FDP with an iron fist. Teachers were afraid of her, and no not her dad, her. Socqueline is the one who terrorized Marinette and pulled the awful prank. The prank that was bad enough that she was expelled. Marinette meets her unexpectedly at the craft store, and is instantly a yr younger and in shock.

HOWEVER

Socqueline is still the one pretending to be Ladybug. She's still the one trying to help people. She's still kind and helpful and Marinette is so very confused! You see, being expelled, having to be in an entirely new environment, and even just a year of change and reflection has made Socqueline a different person. She has grown and is trying to do good to make up for being bad before. Why is she done up like Marinette? She's not! She's done up like Ladybug. She's emulating her hero and inspiration. (who is of course, Marinette).

This already gives us some really good changes.

1)We have a valid reason for Marinette to not have seen/wanted to see Socqueline until S5. you don't go seeking out your former bully.

2)We have a cover for why Marinette hasn't reacted to stimulus before now. She was 'doing good' until she crossed paths with Socqueline and after that. *bam* right in the Trauma. It doesn't matter that Socqueline has changed, trauma is trauma. Marinette hasn't processed it yet, so it gets stoked.

3)Have Kim think Socqueline's pranks were funny. He's Kim, he's thick as two boards, at least he's not gushing about how hot another girl is right next to poor Ondine. It leans into Dark Humor just fine on it's own. Skip the Adrien/Chloe scene for a Marinette/Socqueline scene where Marinette brings up the event to Socqueline and how much it impacted her. have Socquline apologize(she did back in Jubilation for everything, but have her also for this specific thing) have it end on a hug, how nice.

Already we're doing much better! But wait, there's more!

We cut Chloé out of Derision! What does this mean? If she wasn't Marinette's bully doesn't this mess everything up?

No, not really.

Chloé wasn't Marinette's bully pre-canon in any meaningful way. She didn't rule the roost. She only stepped up once Socqueline was expelled, trying to fill the power vacuum/rule the roost/be the new Queen. She's just really bad at it. This explains why the class and even Marinette react to Chloé even in S1 with a sort of exasperated resignation and Marinette isn't even remotely afraid to snap back at her. It's not 'Oh no she is such a bully' it's 'oh God, Chloé's on her shit again.' She's still a brat, mean, and entitled. We're not rewriting any of that. She'll even be an antagonist in S5, but we're going to lean more heavily into Lila/Gabe/Tomoé actively manipulating her, much like in S3. She's not evil, but she's very easily persuaded to be bad.

you see- What we've done with Socquline is foreshadowing. We've shown someone who WAS a bully, who changed when their environment changed and they found the right motivation/inspiration. So when Chloé is going down in flames in S5 we're going to build organically on the parental abuse into the manipulation by villains. We seek to inspire frustration with her, revulsion with those manipulating her, agony that the manipulation all goes unseen, and of course sympathy for everyone who has to deal with it. However, we've also set up the seeds for a future where her environment changes, where a new motivation/inspiration comes in, and where we get convert her from brat to ... okay maybe not GOOD person but at least a decent little porcupine. 🤣

We've even given Marinette a firsthand experience that change CAN happen. Which is something she didn't have the first time around with Chloé during S2/3.

So, what do y'all think?

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 8

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"The fates already fucked me sideways,"

summary: the secrets out

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 8

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 7

next | chapter 9

The sun filtered through the church windows, casting a soft glow over the sanctuary where the girls' dance troupe had been practicing for hours. Tomorrow was the big day—the fellowship celebration—where all the church elders, members, and their families would gather to witness the performances. The pressure was on, and you could feel the weight of it pressing down on your shoulders. This was your first time leading something, and the responsibility felt immense.

Jemima had been a godsend, helping you organize the routines, going over each step with the girls until everything was perfect. Her calm, reassuring presence had been a balm to your nerves. Joel had been equally supportive, his quiet encouragement easing the anxiety that had threatened to overwhelm you. Just thinking about him brought a smile to your face, even in the midst of all the stress.

During a break in the practice, you and Emma headed to the back of the church to grab some snacks and drinks. The two of you chatted idly, the tension from the rehearsal melting away with each laugh you shared. It was a rare moment of calm, one you desperately needed before the whirlwind of tomorrow’s event.

But then, as you reached for a bottle of water, a familiar, unwelcome presence loomed over you. Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat as you turned to see Jamie standing there, his eyes dark and malicious.

“Hi, Jamie,” Emma greeted him casually, completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie ignored her, his gaze locked on you, a twisted smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Did you tell him, hm?” His voice was low, taunting, sending a chill down your spine.

You froze, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach. “What are you talking about, Jamie? Just get out of here.” You tried to keep your voice steady as you turned back to the snacks, hoping he would just leave you alone.

But Jamie wasn’t finished. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I know about you and him.”

Your body went rigid, the blood draining from your face. Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, hoping to deflect his insinuations.

Jamie chuckled darkly, leaning in closer. “Don’t play dumb. You think I wouldn’t find out? I knew you were always a dirty slut, but damn, you really outdid yourself this time.”

Emma glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s going on?"

You didn’t answer, your mind racing, trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation. “Jamie, just leave me alone,” you repeated, your voice shaking.

But Jamie wasn’t done yet. His eyes glittered with malice as he continued, “If you say anything about us, I’ll make sure everyone knows about you and Joel.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure Emma could hear it. The mention of Joel’s name made you freeze in place, terror gripping you like a vise.

Emma’s eyes widened as she processed what Jamie had said. She looked at you, then back at Jamie, horror dawning on her face.

Jamie grinned wickedly, relishing in your fear. “Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she? The saint preacher's daughter over here has been fucking around with good ol’ Joel Miller. Isn’t that right?”

Emma’s face went pale, her expression a mixture of shock and disgust. “Jamie, stop,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. But he ignored you, his cruel words cutting deeper with each passing second.

“He’s old enough to be your dad, for God’s sake,” Jamie sneered. “He should be in jail for what he’s done to you, and you…you should be ashamed of yourself. But then again, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always such a little whore.”

Jamie’s words hit you like a slap to the face, the weight of his accusations crashing down on you. Emma stood frozen beside you, her eyes wide and filled with disbelief.

“I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Jamie’s threats hung in the air, and the reality of what he could do, the damage he could cause, made your head spin.

Without another word, Jamie turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Emma standing there in stunned silence. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything spinning out of control as you tried to process what had just happened.

"Emma..." you said. you are scared, scared to death.

Emma’s eyes were wide, her face pale with shock as she pulled you into the small storage room, slamming the door shut behind her. The dim light barely illuminated the cramped space, casting long shadows on the walls. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest echoed in your ears, drowning out the faint hum of the air conditioning unit.

“What the fuck?” Emma’s voice was a harsh whisper, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair. “Joel Miller? Ellie’s dad?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Panic seized your throat, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. You felt trapped, cornered by both Emma’s piercing gaze and the weight of the secret that had just been exposed.

“I…I can explain,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you said it, you knew how hollow it sounded. How could you possibly explain something like this? How could you make her understand the connection you felt with Joel, the way he made you feel safe, loved, and cherished in a way you had never experienced before?

Emma’s expression softened for a moment, as if she could see the turmoil in your eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Explain? What’s there to explain? This is crazy! He’s twice your age, he’s Ellie’s dad and YOUR DAD'S BEST FRIEND!, for God’s sake. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

"This could ruin everything. Do you even realize the danger you’re in? What will happen if your dad finds out? If the church finds out?” She said again.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to break down. “I know how it looks, Emma, but it’s not like that. It’s not just some fling or something… I love him, and he loves me.”

Emma stared at you, her mouth agape, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Love? You think this is love? He’s a grown man, He should know better!”

“He does know better,” you shot back, your voice rising in desperation. “But I’m not a child, Emma. I know what I want, and I want Joel. He’s not taking advantage of me. It’s real. He protect me, he...he's always there for me,"

Emma shook her head, her face a mix of anger and hurt. “You’re so blinded by this…whatever it is that you can’t see how wrong it is. What do you think is going to happen when people find out? What about your dad? He’ll go ballistic. And Joel…he could get in serious trouble. You’re both going to get hurt.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, the reality of the situation crashing down on you. You knew she was right, but the thought of losing Joel, of being torn away from him, was unbearable.

“Emma, please,” you begged, reaching out to grab her hand. “Please, don’t say anything. I know this is a mess, but I can’t lose him. I love him, and I don’t care about the consequences. I just…I just need you to understand.”

Emma looked down at your hand clutching hers, her expression torn. She was silent for what felt like an eternity, and you held your breath, praying that she would somehow find it in her heart to forgive you, to keep your secret.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know what to do. This is so messed up. You both will get exiled! Or worse, he could be in jail for molesting you!”

Her words struck a nerve, the idea of Joel being painted as some sort of predator made your blood boil. “He did NOT molest me!” you snapped, your voice rising with a fierce intensity that startled both of you. Emma’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst, but you couldn’t hold back the torrent of emotions any longer.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Emma,” you continued, your voice trembling but steady. “He didn’t force me into anything. I wanted this. I wanted him. Joel is a good man, and you don’t understand—he’s the only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m worth something. He’s been there for me when no one else was, not even my own dad.”

Emma’s face softened, but there was still a deep conflict in her eyes. Don’t you see how wrong this is? It’s not just about love or how he makes you feel. This could destroy everything—for both of you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s not what people expect. But it’s real, Emma. What we have is real. And I don’t care if it’s wrong in the eyes of the church or society. All I know is that I can’t lose him. I won’t.”

Emma shook her head, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. “You’re not thinking straight. This isn’t just about you. It’s about him too. If this gets out…if people find out, it won’t just be your life that’s ruined. Joel could lose everything. His reputation, his business, his freedom. Is that what you want?”

The weight of her words hung heavily between you, but you couldn’t back down. “No, of course not,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “But I can’t just walk away from him. I love him, Emma. I love him in a way I’ve never loved anyone else. And I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Emma’s eyes searched yours, as if looking for some sign that you might change your mind, that you might realize the gravity of the situation. But she didn’t find it. Instead, she saw the depth of your resolve, the unyielding determination in your gaze.

“Then you better be prepared for the consequences,” she finally said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Because this won’t end well. Not for you, not for Joel. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you faced Emma, your heart pounding with the weight of the truth you were about to unveil. “I’m already hurt, Emma,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Every day I have to pretend that I’m okay, that I’m fine living this life. But I’m not. Joel is the only thing that makes it bearable. And I’m willing to risk everything for him.”

The desperation in your voice hung heavily in the air, and you saw Emma’s resolve begin to waver. Her eyes softened, the anger and judgment in them slowly being replaced with concern and fear for you. “Please, Emma,” you begged, your voice cracking, “please, I'm begging you, don’t tell anyone. Joel’s not the bad guy. He’s not who you think he is. He saved me.”

Emma hesitated, her face torn between wanting to protect you and not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. You knew there was only one way to make her see, to make her understand why you couldn’t let go of Joel—why you couldn’t go back to the way things were before.

Taking a shaky breath, you let the words spill out, words you’d kept buried deep inside for so long, words that had been eating away at you like a poison. “You want to know the truth, Emma? The real reason why I’ve been avoiding Jamie? Why he’s been threatening me like that?”

Emma’s eyes widened, fear creeping into her expression as she shook her head slightly, as if not wanting to hear what you were about to say. But you couldn’t stop now, not after holding this secret for so long.

“Because he raped me,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word, the shame and pain you’d been carrying for so long finally breaking free. “He took my virginity by force, Emma. He didn’t care about me—he just wanted to prove he could have me, no matter what. And when he was done, he left me there, feeling like nothing.”

The tears finally broke free, streaming down your cheeks as you saw Emma’s face pale, her eyes filling with horror and disbelief. “He—he did what?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your voice wavered as you continued, the weight of your confession bearing down on you like a cross too heavy to carry. "I felt so dirty," you whispered, your words trembling in the still air between you and Emma. "So broken. I wanted to end it all, to just disappear and never have to feel that way again. I started drinking, hiding bottles in my room, sneaking out at night just to numb the pain. I even went to church drunk, praying to God to take this all away, but no one ever noticed.”

The words tumbled out like confessions at a confessional, your voice cracking under the strain of so much pain. "Every night, I would whisper to God, pleading for mercy. I’d pray for the angels to come down and take this burden from me, to carry me away on their wings to a place where I didn’t have to feel this pain anymore. And if no angel would come, I begged for death, for the final peace of oblivion, because I couldn’t keep fighting. I was drowning, Emma, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break the surface.”

You took a shuddering breath, your hands shaking as you clutched Emma’s arms, searching her eyes for some sign that she understood. "I prayed for deliverance, for a way out of this darkness. I asked God to send me someone, anyone, who could make me feel whole again, who could remind me that I wasn’t just a vessel for shame and sorrow. And then Joel came into my life, like a beacon of light in a storm. He made me believe that maybe I wasn’t beyond saving, that maybe there was still something left in me worth loving."

Emma’s eyes were filled with tears, her face a picture of grief and understanding. She didn’t say anything, just held you tighter, as if trying to shield you from all the pain you had been carrying alone for so long.

“And now, I’m terrified, Em,” you admitted, your voice breaking completely. “Because I’m afraid that if I lose Joel, I’ll lose the last bit of hope I have left. I don’t want to go back to that darkness, to that place where I prayed for death. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

Emma’s arms tightened around you, her tears mingling with yours as she whispered, “You won’t go back there. I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. I’ll help you through this, whatever it takes.”

The weight of your confession hung in the air like incense rising to the heavens, a prayer of desperation and sorrow. And in that moment, you felt a glimmer of something—something like hope—begin to take root in the cracks of your broken heart. Emma’s embrace was like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss you had been teetering on for so long.

"I can't lose him, I can't," you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might shatter the fragile hope beginning to bloom within you. The thought of a life without Joel, without the one person who made you feel seen and loved, was unbearable. You clung to Emma as though letting go would mean slipping back into the darkness that had once consumed you.

Emma held you tighter, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "You're not going to lose him," she murmured, her voice firm yet gentle. "We’ll figure this out, okay?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in Emma's shoulder, her words offering a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately. It was the first time in a long time that someone had promised to stand by you, no matter the cost. "Thank you, Emma," you managed to choke out, your gratitude overwhelming.

Emma pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her expression serious. "You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere."

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. The fear still lingered, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. With Emma by your side, the path ahead seemed a little less daunting. The darkness that had once felt all-consuming now had a small, flickering light within it—a light that you were determined to hold onto.

But as the two of you stood there, the reality of your situation pressed in on you once more. Jamie’s threats echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the fear of what he might do. The thought of him exposing your relationship with Joel sent a shiver down your spine.

“What if he tells?” you asked, your voice tinged with anxiety. “What if he goes to my dad, or the church? Joel could be ruined, and I—I don’t know what would happen to me.”

Emma shook her head, determination hardening her features. “We won’t let that happen."

You swallowed hard, feeling a renewed sense of resolve. Emma’s faith in you, in both of you, gave you strength.

As you stood there, side by side, the weight of the world felt just a little bit lighter. The storm was far from over, but at least now you knew you didn’t have to face it alone.

***

The night had settled in, wrapping the world in a cloak of darkness as you and the other girls finished your practice. The church hall was now empty, the echoes of laughter and chatter fading away as everyone headed home. The dance routine had been drilled into your muscles, each movement precise, every step aligned with the rhythm. You had pushed yourself hard, knowing that tomorrow would be a day of judgment—not just for your performance, but for the life you had chosen to live in secret.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air kissed your skin, a welcome relief from the heat of the practice room. The streets were quiet, almost eerily so, with only the occasional flicker of streetlights breaking through the darkness. The silence was a stark contrast to the noise in your mind, where thoughts swirled like a storm.

Emma offered to drive you home in her new car, her concern evident in the way she lingered, keys in hand. "Are you sure you don’t want a ride? It’s getting late," she asked, her voice gentle but insistent.

You shook your head, forcing a small smile. "I’ll be fine, Emma. I just need to clear my head a bit. I’ll walk."

She hesitated, searching your face for any sign of doubt. "Alright," she finally said, though her eyes still held a trace of worry. "Just… be careful, okay?"

You nodded, reassuring her with another smile. "I will. See you tomorrow."

With that, you both exchanged goodbyes, and you started your walk home. The night seemed to press in around you, the darkness heavy with unspoken fears and unvoiced hopes. Your footsteps echoed on the pavement, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

You clutched your backpack a little tighter, its weight grounding you as your thoughts drifted. Tomorrow was supposed to be a big day—your dad would be home early, the church event would be in full swing, and all eyes would be on you. But all you could think about was Joel. The way he made you feel alive, seen, and cherished in a world that often felt cold and uncaring. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, of having that light snuffed out by the darkness that threatened to consume you.

The streetlights cast long shadows on the road ahead, their glow flickering like the doubts that gnawed at your mind. What if Jamie followed through on his threats? What if your dad found out? The thought made your chest tighten with fear. You had built this delicate web of secrecy, each strand woven with care, but it could all unravel with just one word, one misstep.

You tried to push the fear away, focusing instead on the warmth Joel had given you, the way his presence had pulled you back from the edge time and time again. You repeated to yourself that you couldn’t lose him—not now, not ever. He was your anchor, your sanctuary in a world that had so often felt like a battlefield.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the figure lurking in the shadows until it was too late. As you rounded a corner, a rustling sound from the bushes made you pause. Your breath hitched, and you stopped in your tracks, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, like a specter emerging from the darkness, Jamie stepped out from the shadows, his presence cold and menacing. His lips curled into a twisted smile as he saw the fear flash across your face.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice low and taunting. His presence casting a dark shadow over you. You took a step back, a chill running down your spine. “Get the fuck out of my face, Jamie,” you demanded, your voice trembling but resolute.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he advanced. “You told Emma about me, didn’t you?” His tone was cold and accusatory. Fear tightened in your chest, but you tried to hold your ground.

“If you ruin me, I’ll make sure I ruin you,” he sneered, his threat hanging heavy in the air. “I’ll make sure they take him away from you.”

Desperation and anger flared inside you. “What the fuck do you want from me?!” you shouted, your voice breaking with emotion.

Without warning, Jamie’s hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you toward the bushes. You struggled against his grip, trying to scream for help, but his strength overwhelmed you. The world seemed to close in as he shoved you down onto the dirt, his actions abrupt and frightening.

In a surge of panic, you tried to push him away, your heart racing as he started to unzip his pants, “No, Jamie, please!” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “Don’t!”

Jamie’s voice was cruel and mocking. “Did he make you feel good, huh? You should thank me. I brought out this slut hidden beneath you, didn’t I? I should be the one who fuck you good, not some old fucking ass like Joel Miller.”

His words cut deep, and you felt a sense of helpless dread. The stars above seemed to spin as you tried to escape, your heart pounding with fear and sorrow. But Jamie’s hold was unrelenting, and your pleas seemed to fade into the night, swallowed by the dark.

"Please, don't, please," you try your best to shoved him but he pull your skirt down, "Help!" you scream and Jamie punch you again, "Be quiet, you dirty whore,".

As Jamie’s grip tightened, he enters you by force, and the world seemed to tilt, your mind sought refuge in the distant twinkle of the stars. You closed your eyes, trying to escape into the silent comfort of the night sky. Each star above was a distant beacon, a reminder that somewhere, beyond this moment, there was still a world of light and hope.

You tried to focus on the stars, their cold, indifferent light providing a fragile sense of calm. In the midst of your torment, you held onto the hope that this night would end, that the dawn would break and with it, bring the promise of a new beginning.

The beauty of the celestial expanse above seemed to offer a quiet solace, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is still a universe beyond, filled with unspoken promises and untold stories.

As Jamie’s actions continued, the pain and fear seemed to blur, becoming a distant echo compared to the clarity of the stars. You imagined yourself drifting among them, free from the terror below, where the hurt could not reach and the darkness could not touch.

Just look at the stars, you'll be fine

As the tears running down your face, you bit your lips to hold the pain, Jamie's moaning on your ear. You tried to focus on the stars, their silent brilliance a reminder of a world beyond this moment. You whispered a prayer to the universe, to any higher power that might be listening, to make it stop, to take away the suffering and grant you the strength to endure.

"Jesus Christ, please, make all of this stop, I'm tired," you prayed, your voice a desperate whisper that mingled with the night’s silence. The tears streaming down your face were a testament to your exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

Jamie, lost in his own world, was too consumed by his actions to hear your plea. His mocking laughter echoed through the night, a cruel reminder of the powerlessness you felt in this moment. His words and actions were a stark contrast to the gentle night sky above, where you tried to find solace.

Despite the overwhelming pain, you continued to gaze at the stars, seeking refuge in their distant, unchanging light. They were your silent witnesses, a reminder that there was something beyond this immediate suffering, a world where this moment of anguish would eventually fade into the past.

With final thrust, he finally reach his climax, he came inside you.

The night was a tapestry of silent suffering and shattering despair. When Jamie finally finished, he lay beside you, breath ragged and labored. The stillness of the night contrasted sharply with the turmoil of your heart. You lay there, numb and tearful, as though the ground beneath you was a cruel reminder of your helplessness.

Jamie eventually rose, zipping his pants with a contemptuous smirk. His words were a chilling echo of his earlier cruelty. “If you tell anyone about this, you’re dead,” he threatened, his voice cold and indifferent. With that, he walked away, leaving you alone in the dirt, a broken figure beneath the indifferent stars.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as you lay there, struggling to gather yourself. The pain was a relentless tide, overwhelming and unyielding. The stars above, once your silent witnesses, now seemed distant and cold, a vast expanse that mocked your suffering.

You slowly sat up, the weight of the night heavy on your shoulders. Your dress was torn and stained, your hair a tangled mess. Every movement was a reminder of the agony you had endured. You tried to fix your appearance, but the effort felt like an exercise in futility. The blood staining your legs was a harsh reminder of what Jamie had done.

As you walked through the night, your steps were unsteady, your mind clouded with despair. The questions swirled in your head: Why had this happened to you? Why did life have to be so painfully cruel? The burden of your suffering seemed almost unbearable.

Desperate for solace, you made your way to Joel’s home. Each step was a struggle, your heart aching with the need for his presence, for his comfort. When you reached his door, you knocked, hoping against hope that he was home.

Ellie opened the door, her eyes widening in shock as she took in your disheveled and bleeding appearance. Her voice was filled with panic as she called out, “What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!”

With tears brimming in your eyes and your voice trembling, you asked, “Ellie, is… is Joel home?” The words were barely a whisper, but they carried the weight of your desperation.

From inside, you could hear Joel’s voice from inside, “Ellie, who's on the door?"

Joel’s eyes widened with alarm as he saw you standing there, a vision of distress and anguish. Without hesitation, he bolted to the door, his face etched with fear and concern. As he reached you, the dam holding back your tears finally broke.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your strength crumbling. You collapsed into his arms, the sobs wracking your body uncontrollably. The dam of your grief had burst, and you clung to him with all the strength you had left, your tears soaking into his shirt.

Joel’s expression shifted from panic to a fierce, protective concern. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you close as though he could shield you from the world’s cruelty simply by being there. “What happened?” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

Ellie watched in stunned silence, her hands covering her mouth as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. Joel guided you gently inside, his movements tender yet urgent, as if every second mattered. He led you to the living room, helping you sit down on the couch, his touch both steady and soothing.

“Joel... he... he did it again,” you said weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper. The words felt heavy on your lips, each one a painful reminder of what had happened.

Ellie’s confusion turned to alarm as she processed your words, her face pale with concern. Joel, however, understood immediately. His anger was palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. “That son of a bitch,” he cursed slowly, his voice low but seething with fury.

He moved you gently, laying you down on the couch with careful hands. As he began to check you for injuries, his touch was both deliberate and compassionate. When his fingers brushed against your legs and he saw the blood, his expression shifted from anger to a deep, heart-wrenching sorrow.

Joel’s face contorted with grief as he realized the extent of Jamie’s cruelty. He shouted “FUCK!” in a voice that shook the very walls, causing Ellie to flinch and step back in shock. The raw emotion in Joel’s outburst was a stark contrast to his usually composed demeanor.

With a trembling hand, Joel placed his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin mingling with your tears. For the first time, you saw him cry—silent, heartbroken tears that spoke volumes. His voice was a whisper as he spoke, “I’m going to make sure he pays for this. I promise you.”

You looked into Joel’s brown eyes, feeling a mix of fear and sorrow. The pain in your body was overwhelming, and you could barely comprehend what had just happened. “Joel, it hurts,” you managed to say through your tears.

“I know, baby,” Joel said, his voice filled with tender sorrow. “I know it hurts. We’re going to fix this.”

He turned to Ellie, his voice now frantic. “Ellie, get a bucket of warm water and a napkin, now!” His desperation made Ellie’s hands shake as she hurried to follow his orders.

Returning to you, Joel’s eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “I need to know, baby,” he said softly, “Did he... did he...”

“Inside of me, Joel,” you sobbed, “He came inside of me.”

Joel's world had never felt so fragile, so perilously close to shattering. The weight of your words bore down on him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in a sea of grief and rage. His heart twisted with a pain so fierce it felt as though it might break him in two. Every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance, but right now, his only focus was you—protecting you, comforting you, holding you together when you were on the verge of falling apart.

His breath came in ragged bursts as he fought to control the storm inside him. He pressed his forehead against yours, the gesture tender and desperate, as though he could transfer some of his strength to you, even as his own reserves were dangerously low. His voice, usually so steady and composed, wavered with emotion as he whispered, "He will pay for what he did to you. I swear it."

But your voice, so small and broken, cut through the darkness of his rage. "Joel, I'm scared," you whispered, and the fear in your voice was a knife to his heart.

In that moment, Joel’s protective instincts surged to the forefront. All thoughts of vengeance were pushed aside by the overwhelming need to be there for you, to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “You’ll be okay, I promise you,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I’m here. I got you, babygirl.”

Ellie returned with the warm water and napkins, but she paused in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene before her. Joel’s forehead was still pressed against yours, his eyes closed, as he murmured soft words of comfort. There was a raw, unguarded tenderness in his expression that Ellie had never seen before—an intimacy that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection between the two of you.

She felt a pang of confusion and something else, something she couldn’t quite name, as she watched the way Joel held you. He was always protective, always looking out for her, but this... this was different.

As she handed Joel the bucket and napkins, she kept her gaze on the two of you, trying to reconcile this new reality with the Joel she knew. He was always a guardian, a protector, but this... this was a depth of care and love that shook her to her core.

Joel took the supplies from Ellie with a quiet “thank you,” but his attention never wavered from you. He dipped the napkin in the warm water, his hands gentle and sure as he began to clean your wounds. His touch was reverent, almost like he was handling something sacred, something fragile that he couldn’t bear to see hurt anymore. Each movement was careful, deliberate, as if by caring for your physical wounds, he could somehow heal the ones buried deeper within you.

You watched Joel through tear-filled eyes, seeing the pain etched into every line of his face. It was as if the roles had been reversed—where once he had been your protector, now you saw how deeply he was affected by your suffering, how much he needed you to be okay, not just for your sake, but for his.

Ellie stood by, watching Joel taking care of you, her heart heavy with the weight of this new understanding. She could see the fear and hurt in your eyes, the way you clung to Joel as if he were your lifeline. And Joel... the way he held you, the way he whispered reassurances, it was clear to Ellie that this wasn’t just about protection. This was love, fierce and consuming, and it terrified her as much as it comforted her to see it.

She began to replay moments in her head, memories that had seemed insignificant at the time but now took on a new meaning. There were the sudden, unexplained changes in Joel’s behavior—the way he’d started going to church more often, sitting quietly at the back but always there, as if he were trying to keep an eye on someone.

She remembered conversations she’d had with him, And then there was that offhand remark from Tommy at work, about how Joel had started to “smell like a woman.” At the time, it had just been a joke, something Ellie had brushed off as Tommy teasing his brother. But now, it struck her differently.

And then there was that conversation with you and Emma, the one where you had hesitantly asked Emma and her about falling in love with someone. older. Ellie had laughed it off at first, not thinking much of it, but now those words echoed in her mind, each one slotting into place like pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t even realized she was solving.

The realization hit her like a freight train, knocking the breath out of her. 

***

When they reached your home, the quiet of the night wrapped around the small house like a blanket. Joel and Ellie helped you inside, your steps heavy with exhaustion. Your mother, who had been waiting anxiously, rushed to the door as soon as she saw you, her face pale with worry.

“Oh my God, what happened?!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling as she took in your disheveled appearance, the bruises, the blood. Her hands fluttered helplessly as she looked to Joel for answers.

“There was an accident,” Joel lied smoothly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “She got caught up in a fight between some kids from out of town. It wasn’t her fault, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Your mother’s eyes widened in horror. “A fight? But—”

“It’s okay,” Joel interrupted gently, his gaze steady and reassuring. “She’s going to be okay. I took care of her, and she just needs some rest now.”

You clung to Joel, your hand gripping his shirt as if he were your lifeline. The pain and fear still echoed in your chest, but with Joel there, you felt a small measure of safety. “Please stay,” you whispered, your voice small and pleading.

Joel’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, and he stroked your hair gently, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I have something to do, baby,” he murmured. “But I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You nodded, your eyelids heavy as sleep began to pull you under. Joel waited until you were settled in bed, your breathing evening out as you drifted off. Only then did he stand, his eyes lingering on you for a long moment before he turned to your mother.

He walked over to her, his expression serious. “Please,” he said quietly, “don’t tell your husband about this when he comes home tomorrow. She doesn’t need him getting worked up over it, and it won’t help her. Just tell him she had a fall, or something like that.”

Your mother frowned, confusion and concern etched into her features. “But why? He needs to know—”

“Trust me,” Joel cut in, his tone firm. “It’s for the best. I’ll be back in the morning to check on her, I promise.”

After a few more reassurances, Joel finally left with Ellie. The drive back to their house was silent, the air between them thick with unspoken words. When they finally arrived home, Ellie could no longer hold back.

“Joel,” she started, her voice tense as they walked into the house, “what’s going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's going on between you and her?"

Joel froze for a moment, his back to Ellie as he hung up his jacket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, trying to sound casual, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Ellie shot back, her voice rising with frustration. “I have eyes, Joel. I saw how you were with her tonight. And it wasn’t just about protecting her—it was more than that."

"She’s... she’s barely older than me! What the hell are you doing?”

Joel finally turned to face her, his expression pained. He knew there was no dodging this, not with the way Ellie was looking at him—like she was trying to make sense of something incomprehensible, something that felt like a betrayal.

“Ellie,” Joel started, his voice low, laden with the weight of his guilt. “I can explain—”

Ellie cut him off, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Explain what, Joel? That you’re sick? That you’ve lost your fucking mind? How could you do this? How could you even think about her like that?!”

Joel’s heart ached at the venom in her words, the disgust that he could hear so clearly. “It’s not what you think—”

“It’s exactly what I think!” Ellie shouted, her hands shaking as she tried to comprehend the man standing in front of her. “How could you, Joel? How long has this been going on?"

Ellie’s voice wavered, the anger boiling over as she struggled to grasp the reality of the situation. “How long, Joel? How long have you been doing this behind my back? Behind everyone’s back? She’s just a kid! How could you even think about her like that?”

Joel swallowed hard, his mind racing, searching for the right words, but everything seemed wrong. “Ellie, it’s not... I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just... it just did.”

Ellie’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she processed his response. “We both knew her father beat her, Joel!"

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as Ellie’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Ellie... how do you know about that?” he asked, his voice low, almost fearful of the answer.

Ellie’s eyes were filled with a mix of anger and sadness. “I’m not blind, Joel. I have eyes. I saw the bruises, the way she flinched when her father was around. And I saw the way she looked at you, the way she leaned on you. That night, dinner at Tommy's I noticed how she clung to you. She was scared, Joel, and I thought you were stepping in to be the father figure she needed. Like you were for me.”

Joel’s chest tightened, the guilt of Ellie’s words cutting deep. He had been so caught up in his own feelings, in his need to protect and care for you, that he hadn’t noticed Ellie was watching, understanding more than he ever gave her credit for.

“But you weren’t just being there for her, were you?” Ellie continued, her voice trembling with accusation. “You were supposed to protect her, Joel. Instead, you... you took advantage of her.”

Joel’s breath hitched, the weight of her accusation pressing down on him like a physical force. “Ellie, no... it wasn’t like that. I protect her,"

Ellie shook her head, disbelief etched into every line of her face. “Protect her? By doing this? By crossing a line that should never have been crossed? How could you, Joel? How could you do this to her?"

Joel’s patience snapped, the fury and desperation he’d been trying to keep in check finally boiling over. “BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE HER!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the house, raw and unfiltered.

Ellie froze, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at him, wide-eyed. The intensity in his voice, the sheer force of his confession, left her reeling. Joel’s chest heaved with emotion, his eyes wild as he finally let the truth out, the words he’d been too afraid to admit even to himself.

“I love her,” Joel repeated, his voice breaking as the weight of it all crashed down on him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. She’s not just some kid to me, Ellie. She’s everything. And I know it’s wrong, I know it’s messed up, but I can’t help it. I love her, and I’m not gonna let anything happen to her.”

Ellie stared at him, her mind racing to process what she’d just heard. The Joel she knew, the man who had become her family, was now a stranger to her in this moment. She could see the pain in his eyes, the sincerity, but it only made it harder to reconcile.

“You’re out of your mind,” Ellie whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. “This isn’t love, Joel. It can’t be.”

Joel shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “It is, Ellie. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. I love her, and I’m gonna protect her, no matter what. Even if that means keeping her safe from me.”

She didn’t know what to say. "And I will make sure the person who did this to her pay," Joel said again.

Ellie stared at Joel, her emotions a tangled mess of fear, love, and resignation. Joel had been more than just a guardian to her; he was the closest thing to a father she’d ever known. The thought of losing him, or of watching him spiral into something dangerous, tore at her heart. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a path that could only lead to disaster.

“Joel,” Ellie began, her voice shaky, “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my father, and I love you. But this… what you and she are doing… it scares me. What if her father finds out? He’s not just going to let this slide. What if Tommy finds out? What if the whole town finds out?”

Joel’s face tightened, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right. The risks were enormous, and the consequences could be devastating, not just for him, but for you, for Ellie, for everyone involved. But despite all of that, he couldn’t turn away from what he felt.

“I know, Ellie,” Joel said, his voice heavy with guilt. “I know what could happen, and it scares the hell out of me too. But I can’t… I can’t lose her..."

Ellie looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something like acceptance. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Joel. I don’t want to see you hurt, or worse. And I don’t want to see her hurt either.”

Joel nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her, Ellie. And I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe too. I promise.”

Ellie sighed, the fight leaving her as she came to a reluctant acceptance. “If she makes you happy, Joel… then I guess that’s what matters. But please, be careful. This could blow up in your face in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Joel reached out, this time placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you,"

note: FUCKKK i think chapter 7 and 8 are shit, i promise i'll be better

[carlottawllms]

Author‘s note: Welcome to chapter 6. I hope you weren‘t too mad at me after chapter 5 🧐 There’s no good times without the bad ones, is there? Hope this one makes up for it 😇

As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Enjoy! 🩷

The drive back home was hell. Tears kept flowing and blocking your view and it was difficult to keep your composure overall.

Mason’s words had hurt you a lot, especially as you’d never thought he out of all people would say something like that to you, but there was also this embarrassment you felt all over. The way he’d literally laughed at you for potentially being jealous had cut the ground from under your feet.

You'd known for years that you felt a little differently about Mason than you did about other men and had simply refused to admit it to yourself and instead kept it buried six feet under, but it was his behaviour over the last few weeks that had encouraged those feelings to spill over. He’d been so touchy with you; more than he’d ever been and you’d liked to think that his words had held a deeper meaning.

Not to mention the two kisses you’d nearly shared.

But it was obvious that you’d imagined it all. The tension between you two, the meaningful glances, the sweet words.

Are you jealous? Don’t be ridiculous, y/n.

He’d made it pretty clear. You weren’t even close to being in his league and had very clearly been living in fantasy land for the past weeks. You’d just never thought he’d be so brutal about it.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Instead, you tossed and turned until the early morning hours and when your alarm eventually rang, you were positive you’d only gotten two hours of sleep. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d dreaded getting up as much as today and whilst you knew you wouldn’t see him for more than a few minutes, the thought of facing him at all made you feel sick.

You ended up being slightly late as you’d allowed yourself a bit more time in the shower than you normally would, but you couldn’t care less.

“I should be back at three. It’s only a short session because of the upcoming game.”, he explained, but you only gave him a short nod; not in the mood for pleasantries at all. You just wanted to get away from him as soon as possible, so you tried to brush past him, but Mason was quick in grabbing you by your elbow. “Can we talk when I’m back?”

He looked remorseful; his eyes fully of regret when you locked yours on his for a second before dropping your gaze to your feet and shrugging your shoulders.

“Please?”

Again you didn’t react. Eyes solely set on your shoes. After everything he’d said, it hurt so see him and hear his voice.

“I get it.”, he sighed. “See you later. Don’t let my tiny terror annoy you too much.” Mason squeezed your arm gently and then he was gone.  

You shook your head, trying to get yourself into a better headspace. It was awful enough you felt like shit, there was no need to make Ellie notice. You shrugged your shoes and jacket off, before heading into his house.

Ellie was sitting on the carpet in the living room, one of her many puzzles in front of her. She had her brows pulled together in an adorable frown – something that made her look even more like her dad.

Mason too carried that frown with him more often than not. It appeared whenever he was concentrating, mad, lost in thoughts or simply confused. Sometimes even in his sleep. You usually just had to smooth your thumb over it for it to disappear.

“Hi princess.”, you brushed through Ellie’s hair as you crouched down next to her. “This looks really cool. Do you want any help with it?”

“No.”, she shook her head. “Stupid.” And with a quick wave of her arm, the small pieces were scattered all over the floor. Amazing…

“Whoa, Ellie. Munchkin what’s wrong?”, you asked, sensing already that she wasn’t in the best of all moods. “Hm?” You tried pulling her into your lap, but she pushed you away as much as her little strength let her.

“No!”

‘Wow.’, you thought. ‘As if this day hadn’t been difficult enough as it was.’ It felt a little as if with getting up this morning you’d made the biggest mistake. You should’ve stayed in bed; should’ve let Mason figure something out instead of still being his safety net after everything he’d sad the evening before.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone for a bit sweet cheeks. I’m in the kitchen if you need me.”

Technically it was way to early to make a start on the lunch you’d planned, but with-it being Saturday and Ellie in a mood there wasn’t much you could do. And since she took after her father when it came to bad moods and how long they lasted, you knew that there would still be enough time to clean the whole bloody house in the afternoon.

Maybe Mason had stocked up on stuff so you could give the new cookie recipe you’d found on Instagram a go. It was one of those with a molten chunk of chocolate in the middle – a big fat weakness of yours – and you knew Ellie would like them too. Maybe they would lighten her mood…

Before you could even search Mason’s pantry for the ingredients you needed, you heard a rather loud crash in the living room.

“For fuck’s sake.”, you hissed, already having an idea what it might’ve been.

Rushing into the living room, worried your goddaughter might’ve hurt herself, you found her standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into her sides and glaring at what once was a big, beautiful vase.

A vase that was now spread out on the floor in its individual light blue pieces. And in the middle of the sea of shards was Ellie's little ball with the Manchester United logo. The ball that was only meant for outside. Something that Mason had made that very clear to her. He’d used his stern dad-voice and told her straight out not to bring the ball in.

And now she was standing there in her olive-coloured hoodie and matching jogging pants, staring at the broken pieces. Her lower lip jutted out as if pouting would miraculously undo it.

Truth be told, you were overwhelmed. You had absolutely no clue whether you should scold her or not. At the end of the day, it wasn't your job to raise her. But then again, somehow it was.  

“This is exactly why your dad told you the ball stays outside.”, you sighed. “Stay where you are please, I don’t want you to cut your feet.”

You slid your feet into one of Mason’s abandoned sliders in the hall before returning and hoisting Ellie up on your hip. She was barefoot and you preferred her unharmed, hence why setting her up the sofa seemed to be the best idea.

“Stay on the sofa please, I’ll clean up, yeah?”

“No!”

“Ellie, honey, do as I say please.”, you sighed, failing to keep the slightly annoyed tinge out of your voice. Your patience was wearing thin, and if she was going to keep her act up, you weren’t sure what you’d do. “There’s thousands of shards and I won’t have you walking through them and hurting yourself. Sit down and wait for me to be done.”

The little girl glared at you, obviously unhappy with your uncharacteristically strict behaviour, but much to your surprise, she stayed where you’d put her.  

A little less than 10 minutes later all the shards were gone, but unfortunately the day didn’t get any better after that accident.

Ellie thought everything was stupid or boring and after you had given her what felt like 200 suggestions and she had rejected every single one of them, you gave up and turned your attention to cooking. Something that normally calmed you down, but with the day you were having, not even that managed to make you feel better.

If anything, the small specks of tomato sauce all over the counter irritated you more than necessary and you were glad, that it didn’t take too long to finish it.

You were about to grab two plates, when your phone alerted you of a new message. Thinking it was probably Mason telling you he was on his way back, you ignored it, but with a few more coming in in quick succession, curiosity eventually got the better of you.

The second you looked at them though, your blood ran cold.

Who’s this tho?

You knew exactly who it was. The blonde hair, the height, her style…it was Rebecca. The gorgeous woman you’d came across in the park. The one who thought you were the babysitter. She looked great next to him. As if she belonged.

It was pathetic, but the longer you stared at that photo, the more the tears burned behind your eyes. Those last days and weeks, you’d let your guard down and unbeknownst that tiny spark of hope had blossomed, and you only noticed now just how deep your feelings for him ran.

“Fuck.”, you tipped your head back and tried blinking back the tears. If you started to cry over this now, there would be no stopping any time soon.  Angrily, you wiped at the few tears that had spilled over. “I refuse to cry again over this stupid boy.”

With shaking fingers, you replied to Kay’s messages before grabbing the lunch and setting it up on the table.

“Ellie, lunch is ready. Come over please?”, you called, but the girl who was sitting less than a few feet away from you on the sofa didn’t even bother to look up from her toys. “Eleanor.”

“No.”

“It’s pasta with tomato sauce, Ellie. It’s your favourite.”

“No!”, she screeched, making a point by throwing her teddy bear at you. “Daddy food.”

Taking a deep breath, you dragged your hand over your face. There was a lot you could handle and on a normal day, you didn’t face any problems when it came to dealing with Ellie’s tantrums, but today wasn’t a normal day.

In fact, nothing felt normal anymore these days. Mason had always been your rock, but the constant back and forth with him lately was starting to dig your head in and his outburst the evening before had only added up to the worries plaguing you.

There was no going back, you knew that. Those feelings that had slowly crept to the surface wouldn’t just disappear again. But you wanted your best friend back. You wanted the times back when everything was easy and for the first time ever since you’d stepped up, the thought of regret snuck into your head.  

If you hadn't taken on this role, perhaps everything would still be the same…

Eventually you sat down to eat by yourself. Ellie was a carbon copy of her dad and there was no chance to get her to eat now, so you didn’t even bother trying. Knowing her, it would probably just make it all even worse.

Not really being hungry anymore, you forced yourself to eat at least a little bit whilst staring ahead in silence. It felt as if within a few months everything had turned to shit and you wondered if continuing to do this was worth it. Maybe you should tell Mason to ask his parents to come up and take care of Ellie?

But then again, you weren’t a quitter.

“Do you want to go to the playground when I’m done here?”

It was your last-ditch effort because Ellie loved the playground and you hoped it would put her into a better mood, but your hopes were immediately dashed by a shake of the head and words that hurt more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Not wif you.”

A lump started to form in the back of your throat at the same time as your eyes welled up with hot tears. You tried to blink them away, but it was to no avail. They started falling before you could even get up from the table and hide away in the kitchen.

“She doesn’t mean it. She’s only little and in a bad mood. She didn’t mean it like that.”, you tried telling yourself, but there wasn’t much you could do. You felt incredibly overwhelmed and helpless as you stood there, elbows propped up on the kitchen counter and sobbing quietly into your hands. Your heart ached from all types of sadness, hurt and anger rushing through your body, making it difficult to breathe properly. You hated how everything was so overwhelming and made you collapse like a house of cards.

Mason was more than surprised to see the state of the living room when he came back home. Not that it was chaotic by any means, but he knew you and how particular you were about tidying up so seeing the table still set from what looked like lunch time and Ellie’s toys all over the floor had him a little worried.

His daughter was colouring in peacefully at her small table in the living room. Her little feet swinging back and forth made him smile softly. She’d been in a bit of a mood this morning and he was glad you apparently had managed to cheer her up.

As he made his way over to greet her, his gaze fell on the dining table, recognising Ellie’s favourite meal right away, but the fact that her personalised plate was entirely unused made him frown.

“Daddyyyy!” Ellie scrambled off her chair the second she noticed her dad in the room and ran over to him as fast as her little legs would carry her.

“Hi princess.” Mason picked her up and squeezed her to his chest before setting her on his hip so he could get a good look at her. “I missed you.”

“Missu too.”

“Yeah? You did?”, he tickled her sides a little, causing her to giggle and squirm in his hold before kissing her cheek repeatedly. “I missed you more though. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”

To Mason’s utter surprise, his daughter shook her head. He furrowed his brows and pulled back a little so he could look at her a bit better.

“No? Why’s that little miss trouble?”

“Auntie y/n sad.”

Mason’s heart dropped to his tummy. He knew you always made sure to hide your feelings from his daughter, especially the ones that could affect her and the way Ellie had picked up on them told him everything he needed to know about the state you were in.

He’d been awful the evening before, he was well aware. He’d said things he hadn’t meant in the slightest and whilst deep down he knew you knew, it was still something that weighed heavy on his shoulders – and heart.

All day long he’d thought about how to apologise; what to say and how to make you feel better despite all those terrible things he’d said. He just needed you to know just how sorry he was.

“Maybe daddy should go and see if she’s okay then, hm?”, he asked as he brushed through his daughter’s brown hair.

“Ellie made auntie y/n sad.”, she whispered barely audible, eyes cast to the floor, but Mason was quick in tilting her hair up gently. Her eyes being full of guilt breaking his heart.

“I’m sure you didn’t, princess.”, he smiled, his thumb caressing her soft cheek. “Everyone is a little sad from time to time, you know? You are sometimes, so am I and auntie y/n is too.”

“Gwandma too?”

“Yes, grandma too.”, Mason nodded. “And it’s okay to be sad sometimes, yeah? But then we need someone to cheer us up and make sure we laugh again, yeah?” For good measure, he attacked his daughter’s tummy with quick fingers and only let go of her, when she could barely breathe from giggling so hard.

“I’ll go and talk to auntie y/n, okay? Can you stay here and colour-in the rest of that picture? I’m sure auntie y/n would be happy to have it.” Ellie nodded quickly, a bright smile on her face. “Thank you, princess.”

Mason pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before setting her down and making his way into the kitchen.

You had your back turned to him, your shoulders calm, but he couldn’t be sure that you weren’t crying. Not after everything that had happened. He watched you for a moment, gaze gliding from your messy bun, over the sprinkles of tomato sauce on the side of your t-shirt – he knew you’d be furious the moment you’d find them – to your legs clad in light grey joggers. Your favourite pair.

When you turned around, the surprise and shock were evident on your features, but Mason couldn’t look at anything other than your red rimmed, glazed-over eyes. You’d been crying, that much was obvious. Your cheeks were slightly red, a little blotchy and he could easily make out the tear stains.

“y/n?”

“I’m fine.”, you attempted to say, but your voice betrayed you rather quickly. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth to stop it from trembling as you wiped your eyes.

“No, no you’re not.”, Mason sighed. “C’mere.”

There was little to no resistance when he pulled you into his arms and held you tightly. His warmth surrounded you and it was ironic how his smell calmed your mind almost immediately, when he was the reason, you were in this state in the first place.

“It’s okay, I got you.” He repeatedly kissed your head in an attempt to calm you down as your quiet sniffling was breaking his heart. “I have a whole lot to say to you, but you first. What happened today?”

“I don’t know…it was all a bit too much, I think. Ellie was a bit of trouble today too and yeah…I’m sorry you had to come home to this, I’m normally not-”

“Hey, no stop this. There’s nothing you have to apologise for, love.” Gently, he tilted your head back and held you by your cheeks so he could look straight into your eyes. His thumbs wiping at the few tears that had made it past the last line of defence. “Ellie said she might’ve made you sad?”

“Oh…well I made her favourite and she said she only wants your food and…it’s probably stupid really cause I know she didn’t mean it that way, but after everything-” At the end you let what you wanted to say run into the void, but there was no need for you to finish it as Mason knew exactly what you meant to say.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”, he whispered. “I’m sorry for everything I said yesterday and how I made you feel with that. I know I said some pretty shit things and I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean any of those things.”

“I was just looking out for you, Mase.”

“I know you were.”, he smiled sadly. “And I should’ve appreciated that instead of coming at you like I did. I know you only ever mean well with me.”

“Then what happened? Mase you called me pathetic and jealous. You…you hurt me. A lot.”

“I’m so, so sorry, y/n.” Mason pulled you back into his chest, squeezing you tightly. He’d felt awful before, very much so, but hearing it from you, that he out of all people had hurt you and brought you to tears made him feel like the most awful person on the planet.

“Nothing I can say could ever take back the words I said, but y/n, I really need you to know that I didn’t mean any of those. You’re not pathetic, love. You’re absolutely perfect and I’m so glad I have you around. Not because you take care of Ellie, but because you’re you and I enjoy every second I get to spend with you. You’re such an amazing person and the thought of having hurt you kills me. I swear I didn’t mean anything of what I said.”

“Then what happened? Why Mase?”

You finally wrapped your arms around his middle, holding yourself to him a bit closer. You could feel his fingers running up and down your spine, causing you to curve into him a little more.

“It was too much.”, he admitted quietly. “Everything. The whole situation here with you sacrificing a lot for Ellie and I, then the pressure at United. All of sudden, Mae shows up unexpectedly and messes with my head and ends up kissing me. I was so overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think anymore and when she kissed me I just…I don’t know. It was just too much, like all of it.”

Mason carefully placed his head on top of yours.

“When I came home, I just needed to get it off my chest and you said all the right things, but in that moment I think I wasn’t ready to hear them so I bit your head off. I’m genuinely sorry, y/n. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially not after you sacrificed your whole life for me and Ellie. You didn’t hesitate to put your life on hold and step up to ensure that mine and Ellie’s could be as normal as possible. And instead of telling you every single day how grateful I am, I said those awful things I didn’t mean. I’m so fucking sorry, I hate seeing you hurt and it killed me to know that it’s was me who did this.”

For a while you just kept quiet. Face snuggled into his warm chest, arms circling his waist as you listened to his rapid heartbeat. You knew he was truly sorry. He hadn’t meant any of those things and you’d known before, but you’d needed this apology.

“There’s something else I need to tell you. I don’t know if you noticed, but I got home later than I said I would. It’s…I went to see Mae.” Mason felt your body tensing in his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yesterday after you left, I thought about everything you said and realised you were right. She did see you as an out. You were her chance to be part of our lives without actually being there and I don’t want that for Ellie. She deserves all the love in the world and above that she needs stability. Not a mum who might or might not be there.”

“Yes.”, you whispered.

“When I told her that she has to be here regularly or not at all, she admitted that it is probably best for Ellie to stay with me and have you by her side. She said you seem to be very good for her and I couldn’t agree more. You’re perfect with her and I’m incredibly grateful to have you.”

“You’re my best friend, Mase. As if I’d ever not be by your side.”, you huffed, but Mason could basically hear the soft smile playing on your lips. He gently pulled away and tipped your head back with his finger beneath your chin and when his eyes found yours he was more than happy to find no more tears shining in them.

“I also don’t love her anymore. I didn’t say it yesterday – out of pettiness really – but I don’t love her anymore. I don’t feel anything for her anymore because she doesn’t matter to me. Okay?”

“Mase, you don't owe me an explanation or anything. I just wanted you to maybe think about it again and-”

“I know.”, he smiled. “Trust me I know. But I don’t need to think about it again, y/n. I know I don’t love her anymore. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I promise.”

You weren’t sure why it was so important to him to get this across, but you closed your eyes and sighed in relief when he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I know you might take a bit until you can forgive me, but…are we okay?”

“I…look, you really hurt me, Mase. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hurt before but you apologised. I should probably be petty and make you beg for my forgiveness after all that-”

Mason chuckled quietly and nodded. “But?”

“But with everything that you had going on lately it’s not surprising you needed an out. It’s not okay what you did and what you said, but I know you’re sorry and that you didn’t mean it. We’ve been friends for years now and I know you’re not like that. I forgive you, okay? Just make sure it never happens again.”

“I will. Pinky promise.” He locked his pinky with yours, a cheeky grin on his lips, before he pulled you back into his chest. “Thank you.”

As you stood there in silence, still holding onto each other, you could hear Ellie’s chair scratching over the floor as it was pushed back and a little later her crocs-clad feet padded over to the kitchen.

“She kept away for longer than I thought”, Mason laughed. “Asked her to paint a picture for you, I’m excited what she came up with this time.”

But when Ellie opened the door to the kitchen, there was no painting in her hand. Granted, she had splatches of blue and red pencil stains in her face, but instead of the paper, she was holding her plate.

“Auntie y/n!”, she grinned. “Pasta now?”

[lianadelune]

golden bars, fragile hearts

pairing: caracalla x reader

author's note: i have been working on this fic for a while but lately everything i write i kind of hate, i'm editing this so much i'm getting insane (also college doesn't help) so i decided to finally post it or this fic would stay on my drafts forever 😭

this is part 1!

the sun blazed down on the colosseum, the bloodstained sand reflecting its golden light making

the day feel more heated than anticipated, you remembered hearing on your way to the amphitheater that this was one of the hottest days of the year, that statement felt quite right as you walked the busy streets, sweat dripping from your nose wishing you had drank a glass of water before leaving your house, but your thoughts were elsewhere completely when you stepped outside. you would think that the heat would be a hindrance for the festivities that the people of rome looked forward to, but somehow that didn’t mattered, it didn't mattered for the bloodthirsty emperors, caracalla and geta, the infamous twins, that loved violence and brutality more than the people they should rule and it also didn't mattered for the crowd, the thought of seeing a gladiator fight was worth passing out from heat stroke, apparently.

you could hear their roar, a mix of jeers and cheers that echoed off the stone walls, from your seat you stood frozen hearing their excitement, your heart pounding against your ribs waiting for the moment your father would step into the arena.

you had promised yourself you wouldn’t go, your father made you promise when the praetorian guards came at your door saying the emperors demanded that the man that had won his freedom many years ago would fight again one last time to prove his worth.

when they utter those words you were the one that wanted to fight, fight the guards, fight the emperors and protect the only family you had left, but before you could deliver any profanity, your father lowered his head and expressed how honorable he was to entertain the people of rome once again.

he looked back at you with teary eyes, taking in the simple yet comforting house he was living in even before you were born, the one he worked so hard to build after he bought his freedom killing others just like him, spoils of war, it was poetic really, he thought, his life began as a gladiator and would end as a gladiator, a little chuckle left his lips, the gods really did worked in mysterious ways.

while you tried to come to terms with his decision, your father kissed your forehead lovingly and made you promise you wouldn’t watch before being taken by the praetorian guards.

and you agreed.

but now you were going against your dad’s dying wish.

your jaw tightened as you stood among the roaring crowd, people chanting and cheering for the gladiators, cheers that were as empty as the promises of rome’s twin emperors.

caracalla and geta ruled not through love or respect, but through terror and empty entertainment. the streets of rome were restless, simmering with rebellion that never seemed to fade completely. just weeks ago, riots had broken out in the forum, citizens torching statues of the emperors while shouting for justice. but now, here they were, packed into the colosseum, their rage momentarily silenced by the lure for bloodshed.

‘panem et circenses’ you thought bitterly, watching how easily the crowd forgot their oppression, the chants growing louder as a gladiator fell to his knees ‘bread and circuses are all it takes to dull their anger for a few hours’

but when the games ended and the blood was washed from the sand, the discontent would return. the people would rebel again - you were sure of it - because no amount of free grain or violent spectacles could suppress the desperation in their hearts.

you hoped the emperors were afraid for their heads because sooner or later the act of depredating their statues won’t be enough.

rome was a city on the edge, and your father was about to become its next distraction.

that was the first thought that crossed your mind while you saw your father walk towards the middle of the coliseum.

his gait was uneven, his shoulders hunched - not from cowardice but from the toll of age. the once-celebrated gladiator, who had won his freedom fairly, was now back at being paraded as nothing more than a relic for the crowd’s amusement.

he held his sword steady while raising it to salute the emperor’s box, but you could see the way his hand trembled. your father’s movements were slower than they once had been, but his pride remained unbroken.

your heart clenched. this wasn’t a fight - it was a death sentence.

the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena “behold! a veteran of rome’s might, returning for one last dance with death! will he rise as a lion, or fall as prey?”

the gates on the opposite side of the arena open, and a younger, stronger gladiator stepped forward, his muscles gleaming with sweat, his expression cold and unyielding.

you couldn’t let this happen.

you ran from your seating, hearing people behind you screaming to take your place closer to the bloodshed, pushing past every guard that standed if front of you especially the guards who blocked the lower level of the arena, you ignored their shouts and protests, they couldn’t catch you, too surprised to see someone run towards the arena of the colosseum, instead of run from it. every step felt heavier than the last as your decision bore down on you.

but you didn’t stop.

the sand was hot under your feet and your clothes were sticking on your skin as you stumbled onto the arena floor, drawing the collective gasp of the audience.

your father dropped his sword as his head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with panic.

“get out of here!” he shouted.

but you didn’t listen. you ran to him, your heart hammering in your chest, and threw yourself in front of him, spreading your arms wide as a shield.

the younger gladiator paused mid-step, his brow furrowing in confusion.

the crowd erupted in chaos, excited with something they had never seen before, someone willing to protect a gladiator from their deathbed.

high above, the emperor’s box stirred. you felt their gazes on you, your breath quickening showing your nervousness for having the attention of the infamous rulers of rome on you, but you didn’t back down and stared right back at them in defiance.

caracalla, one of the twin emperors, rose from his seat, the ornate red fabric of his toga trailing behind him as he stepped to the edge of the balcony.

“what is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through the noise.

you almost didn’t listen to his words because of your own heart pounding heavily on your rib cage making you nauseous, for a moment you were sure you would pass out.

you ignored the nausea building up and the tremors in your limbs, looking up to the emperors with a steady voice, despite the fear you were feeling, you managed to say “i’m here… to take his place!”

a murmur rippled through the crowd. your father grabbed your arm, his grip strong despite his weakened state. “what are you doing?” he hissed.

without turning to him, you said loud enough for everyone in the colosseum to hear. “i won’t let them kill you!”

caracalla’s piercing gaze locked onto yours seeing determination on them, his expression went from furious to amused in a matter of seconds. “this is… unexpected,” he said, his tone laced with mockery “tell me then, what makes you think you’re in a position to bargain with me?”

“i’m not here to bargain,” you said, raising your chin, your voice cracking a little when you heard your father behind you, pleading with the other gladiator to get you out of there “i’m here… to offer myself. you want a spectacle, don’t you? my father is an old man - he’s no longer fit to fight. there’s no honor in his death. but me?” you gestured to yourself, your voice rising. “i’m young, untrained and foolish enough to face whatever fate you decide, i’m sure that’s far more entertaining than this.”

emperor geta, seated beside caracalla, chuckled “they have a point, brother, he doesn’t look like the legend we heard so much about” his fingers tapped the rim of his wine cup. “besides… they have spirit. i’ll give them that”

caracalla’s eyes narrowed as he studied you, his expression unreadable. the silence stretched, the weight of his decision hanging over the arena, like a storm cloud.

“bring them to me,” he commanded.

the guards dragged you up the steps to the emperor’s box, their grip firm on your arms to the point of bruising. you stumbled to your knees before caracalla, his imposing frame over you as he stepped closer.

you had heard so much about both emperors, how cruel and unhinged they were, how their reign would be marked in history by decadence, cruelty and chaos, a spectacle of blood and tyranny.

geta was the one everyone thought about when the matter was diplomacy, for he had a talent for weaving words as deftly as a spider spins its web. his voice, always calm and measured, could diffuse tensions or spark them, depending on what suited his ambitions.

geta could be terrible, but to you caracalla was far worse.

a man consumed by his appetites - for control, for blood, for the fleeting thrill of domination. his wrath was as unpredictable as it was unrelenting, unlike his brother, caracalla acted impulsively, driven by bursts of rage, if he felt insulted in the slightest- the emperor would order a village razed.

or several.

you considered him a monster.

a beast.

and nothing could change that.

“you would trade your life for his?” caracalla asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“yes,” you said without hesitation, lifting your gaze to meet his. “my father has served rome for long enough, let him go and take me instead”

“and what makes you think your life is worth more than his?”

“it isn’t” you answered honestly “but i’m still young enough to be at your service, i’ll do anything if you leave him alone”

“anything, you say?” caracalla’s lips curled into a faint smirk “even entertaining me?”

you shivered with the implied meaning of his question, but remained silent.

geta leaned forward, his interest piqued.

“perhaps we should keep them, they're a bold one, brother”

caracalla regarded you for a moment longer, his cold calculating eyes searching yours. then with a sharp nod, he gestured to the guards.

“release the old man, you are going to stay”

your father’s protests echoed beneath you as he was dragged from the arena, but you didn’t look back.

“welcome to your new life,” caracalla said, his voice dripping with mockery. “let’s see if your spirit lasts as long as your courage.”

the emperor barely had finished his sentence when you felt the guard’s ironclad hands gripping your arms once again with a force that left no room for argument, you could feel caracalla’s cold eyes following your every move as you were dragged from the arena, his lips curving into a smirk as though he has claimed a prize rather than a person.

please leave a like or a comment about what you guys are thinking about this fic! i'm kind of insecure with this one :(

[asdfghjklmals]

LEARN TO LOVE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. WORD COUNT: 1.9k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, adopedkiddos!megumi & tsumiki

SYNOPSIS: satoru brings home two kids for oc gojo girlfriend to raise with him without her knowing. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is how oc gojo girlfriend meets tsumiki and megumi for the first time. i try to keep as factual as possible with the manga/anime, but some details might slip through the cracks. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“gotcha! i’ll take care of things. you’re gonna have to work extra hard, i’m counting on ya,” the white haired sorcerer chirped at his newly kidnapped? adopted children.

“first things first kiddos, there’s someone i’d like you to meet.” satoru gojo chimed as megumi and tsumiki fushiguro backpacked their belongings to tokyo jujutsu high school with him.

“are we meeting someone important?” tsumiki curiously asked.

tsumiki fushiguro was a cheerful child who always had a smile on her face. she wore the cutest pink dress with ruffles. megumi glared into the distance as he followed behind them.

“absolutely. the most important person in my life!” satoru announced, grinning. he beamed with pride towards the kids, hiding the terror of the fact that he didn’t even tell you that he was bringing two kids home for you to help him raise.

tokyo jujutsu high: the girls' dorm

you were studying for the second years' final exam, something your boyfriend also should've been doing but he was off doing who knows what. just because jujutsu high wasn't a "traditional" high school, didn't mean you didn't deserve an education as well.

a familiar knock on your dorm room's door startled you out of your studying. it was none other than satoru gojo, you could tell just by the way he knocked on your door. you turned around from your desk as satoru opened the door and called out to you.

"(y/n), hey."

well, that sure got your attention. not even a greeting with a pet name?

"hi babe," you greeted him with suspicious eyes.

satoru had two kids with him. they were both carrying backpacks while satoru rolled two large suitcases next to your bed.

"who are these kiddos?"

you looked at the two children. there was a boy and a girl. they couldn't have been more than 8 years old. the boy had dark blue spikey hair and green eyes (he also looked miserable). the girl had a brown ponytail and a sweet smile on her face.

"they're our kids now", satoru looked at you and grinned.

this man had to be joking. they surely had to be his younger cousins you hadn't met before. however, you were pretty sure you met a majority of his family when you went back to visit the gojo clan over the summer break. and there was no way he was a father of two at 18 years old.

"hey you two, go on and sit down for a bit. i have to talk to miss (y/n) for a second."

the two children obediently sat down on your dorm room's floor. the girl took out some snacks and the boy took out a book. satoru grabbed your hand and led you to your bathroom, closing the door with haste.

"satoru, who are those kids? i want the truth, please." you sternly asked him, furrowing your brows in disconcertment. you used his first name in hopes that he would understand how serious you were.

"i'm taking them in." he shrugged nonchalantly.

"what? what do you mean you're taking them in? you're literally 18. you can't be a dad. you have to be joking." you looked at him in bewilderment.

you started to laugh in disbelief. you knew that satoru gojo said crazy shit, but this one took the cake.

satoru took off his sunglasses and grabbed your hands, pulling them close to his chest. he stared at you intently. you could tell he wasn't joking. he called you by your first name, which he rarely did. he preferred the sweet couple-y pet names.

"(y/n)." he said with the utmost seriousness.

"satoru." you replied back calmly.

"remember when i killed the man that almost killed me? toji fushiguro?" he said quietly.

how could you have forgotten?

you hated remembering that you almost lost him. it was terrifying and you'll never forget finding him on the school's front steps with a faint heartbeat, knocking at death's door. you did everything you could to heal him with reversed cursed energy while he tried using his own reversed cursed technique to heal himself. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

"that kid, the one with the blue hair. that's his son, (y/n). his father sold him to the zen'nin clan for money once he turns of age—which is 8 years old. he ran off with his wife once he got the money and never looked back." satoru explained the situation to you in hopes that you would understand.

"you mean... those two kids were abandoned?"

how could a parent do that to their child? you couldn't imagine how frightened they were.

"exactly. his father and the girl's mother ran off and left those two behind. they have no one, babe—and out of the goodness of my heart, i went to find them." he just had to input some self praise in there, it wouldn't be satoru gojo without it. you rolled your eyes at him.

"is it because you felt bad for killing his dad?" you whispered to him.

"i guess you can say that," satoru said with some guilt, "but because if they go to the zen'nin clan... they're going to hate it—especially tsumiki."

you knew there was bad blood between the gojo clan and the zen'nin clan, but also, the zen'nin clan prioritized blood ties and inherited techniques. women in that clan were treated horribly. if you didn't have a speck of cursed energy, living there was a nightmare. tsumiki would be tossed to the side and treated ruthlessly. you didn't even know the little girl, but something in your heart told you that you had to protect her.

"so this kid, since he's a zen'nin—is he going to be a jujutsu sorcerer?" you asked satoru.

he looked at you with calculating eyes, "i talked to the higher ups yesterday. i convinced them to stop the sell of the kid and that i'd take him in and raise him to be a jujutsu sorcerer. when he turns 15, he'll attend jujutsu high. they'll give me financial aid to raise both of them."

now, satoru gojo would not be in charge of their finances. that would be your job. with the way that man spends, he would bankrupt them.

"how do you even know he'll be able to see curses?"

there were so many questions you had, but so little time. the children were sitting literally outside the door, waiting for you and satoru.

"i just have a feeling that the kid will. i don't believe the girl will since she's not toji's biological daughter."

"how old are they, satoru?"

"the kid with the blue hair, his name is megumi. he's 5 years old. the girl that's with him is tsumiki. she's 6."

"and you, my 18 year old boyfriend, satoru gojo, are going to raise them?" you looked at him with skepticism.

"no baby, you're going to help me." he grinned at you.

"seriously?"

"you have what they say a 'motherly touch'. there's no way I can raise a girl, babe. who's gonna have the puberty talk with tsumiki? not me. you have to help me, please."

he grabbed your hands again and begged you with his stupid puppy dog cerulean blue eyes that you couldn't say no to.

you bit your lip in worry and looked at the door. could you and satoru really raise these two kids on your own?

you sighed and reluctantly replied, "fine. i'll help you."

satoru grabbed you by your waist and lifted you off the floor, twirling you around in a tight hug. he kissed your forehead.

"we can do this, babe. we can make the world a better place for these kids."

you hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek as you scratched the back of his undercut with your nails in comfort. you could feel satoru melt in your arms.

you understood how he felt and what he wanted to do for the future of the jujutsu world. he wanted to create a safe and fostering environment for the upcoming generation of jujutsu sorcerers. you supported his vision, and you would walk through the depths of hell with him just to help him achieve just that.

once you let go of him, he grabbed your hand with a cheeky smile. he opened the bathroom door and sat down on your bed, looking at the kids.

"sorry about that kiddos!" he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. the two kids looked up at you and satoru.

"hi, what are your names?" you crouched down at the two of them, hoping to get them to open up to you. you and satoru would be their guardians, so it was time to start building a relationship.

"my name is tsumiki," the young girl smiled cheerfully, "and his name is—"

"megumi", the younger fushiguro interrupted her.

"that's my little brother." she added.

megumi didn't make any eye contact with you. he just continued to chew his food and read his book. tsumiki was so cute and personable, and she chewed her food so happily—they were complete opposites.

"well, it's nice to meet you tsumiki and megumi." you gently said to them.

"nice to meet you too, (y/n)!" tsumiki chirped.

"megumi, you need to show some respect to your elders when they're talking to you. say hi to (y/n) at least. she's talking to you." satoru said with a sprinkle of annoyance.

he had told the two how important you were to him, so why wouldn't megumi give you the time of day?

"it's okay, babe." you patted his thigh. you gave your lover a soft smile.

you knew it would take some time for megumi to warm up to you. you sat down next to the two kids and your heart felt warm. you felt like you wanted to protect them, save them, make sure nothing bad ever happened to them. you watched as tsumiki tried to fix megumi's hair, but he would just push her hand away every time. he looked like he was going to be a pain in the ass.

with time, your new goal in life was to become a responsible guardian for these two kids. you wanted to make sure they grow up strong, independent, and honest. you were going to make sure that megumi and tsumiki learn to love you—and satoru, of course.

EXTRA:

"who's bed are they going to be sleeping in?" you asked satoru at dinner.

"why don't they sleep in your room for now? you're always sleeping in my bed anyways." he replied as he continued to chew his food.

"but my bed is bigger and more comfortable." you argued.

you had a custom king sized futon shipped from your hometown of osaka when you first started school here at tokyo jujutsu high. it paid to be from a big shot sorcerer family.

"well, they're not sleeping in mine."

"being a parent means that you have to compromise, satoru."

"we can figure it out tomorrow. how about i ask yaga-sensei if he'll give us an extra room for them?" satoru petitioned.

you glared at him and he just raised his eyebrows as if he didn't suggest something ridiculous. after your late dinner, you and satoru cleaned the shared dining hall and walked back to the girls' dorm where your room was. you opened your door to find megumi and tsumiki sleeping peacefully in your bed.

"i guess my bed is big enough for 3." you said quietly as you smiled at the sleeping children.

"what about 4?" satoru grinned.

read the next chapter ‘pinky promises’ here.

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[brotherwtf]

re mota rewatch

"Egan wouldn't let us ship it to your folks, kept saying I expect him back, my buddy's just MIA" CRAZY WORK BY THE FUCKING WAY

it's also fucking crazy how Gale looks even more melancholy and in love looking at that damn lucky deuce than when he looks at the straight up picture of Marge, something happened to you while you were overseas major? AND HE PUTS IT IN HIS DAMN POCKET? A REMINDER/HOPE THAT HES STILL ALIVE? THAT HES GOING TO COME BACK? SICK ACTUALLY

also the scene where Bucky puts up the flag never fails to make me fucking sob, the emotion is so fucking palpable, the terror, the fear is almost fucking over, all of the shit they went through, it could be done, everything they fought for was actually for something as opposed to nothing, it's such a good fucking scene

IVE ALREADY FUCKING WROTE A DRABBLE ABOUT THIS BUT THE FUCKING "YOU HEARD ME THE FIRST GODDAMN TIME GALE" SCENE IS SO FUCKING CRAZY TO ME you can see the relief on Gale's face, the bite of his lip to hide anything more than a relieved smile, and it's the first time (I think someone fact check me on this) that John actually calls Gale by his name, and it's all just to show that he made it back, he survived, and he's back, he's back with Gale

and the end of the war scene is also so beautifully melancholy, life of the party John Egan decided to spend the evening with Gale, somewhere quiet, that damn control tower, sharing a drink with the person he cares about the most, it's so sweet and heartbreaking at the same time how much the war changed them, how much they truly have changed

there's a little exchange that I'm probably reading too much into but when John asks Gale if he's ready to see Marge, Gale kind of laughs, shakes his head, like Johns asking something sarcastic, and I just think that's fucking crazy

and the fucking fact that John was right, he and Gale were the last B-17s in the air, it was Gale flying it, right alongside him, God it's enough to make me curl up and weep

the end credits of this will never fail to make me cry, it made my dad break down and sob when we first watched it together and it still makes me cry, the violin version of the opening theme, something melancholic and reflective, oh my God and that final picture of the real John Egan and Gale Cleven? head in my hands I'm gonna be sick

and that has been my mota rewatch!! be on the lookout for a full post mortem later where I fully debrief 🥰🥰

[gf2bellamy]

hii!! i hope you’re well, i read some of your fics and just wanted to say you’re so talented and i really enjoyed reading them :) i also saw your requests are open and i actually have one if that’s okay?

could you maybe write a fic for isaac lahey where he and reader aren’t together but for a while they’ve had feelings for each other (both are too shy/awkward to admit it + reader is maybe scott’s sister). reader and isaac somehow get stuck in an enclosed space and reader has to calm isaac down after he has a panic attack and almost attacks reader. after she helps calm him maybe they confess to each other and it ends with something wholesome? idk it’s up to you!

im soo sorry if this is too long lol and feel free to ignore this request if you’d like <33 thank youu :)

stuck — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: isaac's dad , panic attack , isaac attacking reader , a/n: thank you so much for your request !! i felt so bad for him during this scene in s3 :( hope you enjoy this ( and i hope it's not too long ) <3

You were doodling absentmindedly in your notebook, your pen scratching lazy patterns across the page.

You shouldn’t have been doodling—especially not considering the reason you were sitting in detention in the first place. 

Mr. Harris had been very clear during chemistry class: “Stop defacing your notes with meaningless scribbles, or you’ll be spending your afternoon in this very room.”

And yet, here you were, stuck in detention because you’d gotten lost in your little drawings instead of paying attention to the lesson. 

To be fair, you were pretty sure Mr. Harris had it out for you anyway. He’d been holding a grudge ever since Scott had terrorized his class last year.

Your brother had an uncanny ability to escape the consequences of his actions, which unfortunately left you to deal with the fallout. 

You glanced up from your notebook and shifted in your seat, letting your eyes wander over the room.

It wasn’t exactly bustling with activity—there were only a few other students scattered throughout. One of them caught your attention immediately. 

Isaac Lahey. 

He was sitting a couple of seats in front of you and to the left, his curly blonde-brown hair slightly messy as though he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

He stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, looking like he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. 

A small smile tugged at your lips.You lowered your gaze back to your notebook, trying to refocus on your doodles, but you couldn’t help yourself. Every so often, you glanced up, sneaking another look at him. 

What you didn’t know was that Isaac had been doing the same thing. 

From the corner of his eye, he kept catching glimpses of you. The way your brow furrowed slightly as you concentrated on your sketches.

The little smile that appeared when you were amused by something you’d drawn. Even the way you absentmindedly twirled your pen between your fingers was... distracting. 

Suddenly your name was called.

Mr. Harris’s voice cut through the silence, making you jolt upright in your seat. Your pen froze mid-doodle, and you instinctively flipped the page of your notebook to hide your sketches. 

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, meeting his gaze. 

“Go to the library and fetch the chemistry textbooks for the next class,” he said, his tone curt and impatient. 

You blinked, relief washing over you as you realized you’d just been handed a golden ticket out of this stuffy detention room. The idea of not having to sit here for another hour doodling under Mr. Harris’s scrutinizing stare sounded like heaven. Plus, you were pretty familiar with the chemistry section of the library. It was tucked away in a secluded little corner, practically hidden inside a small room at the back—a quiet sanctuary. 

“Sure,” you said quickly, already pushing your chair back. 

But just as you stood, Mr. Harris started listing the books he wanted you to retrieve. You stopped mid-step, growing more and more horrified with each title he rattled off. By the time he finished, it sounded less like a list of books and more like a complete inventory of the chemistry section itself. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “How am I supposed to carry all of those?” 

Mr. Harris raised an unimpressed eyebrow, as if he found your question completely irrelevant. He stared you down for a long moment, and you weren’t sure if he was about to start yelling or simply assign you an extra hour of detention for questioning him. 

Finally, he glanced around the room, his gaze landing on someone behind you. 

“Lahey,” he barked, his voice sharp. “Go help her.” 

You turned your head, just in time to catch Isaac blinking in surprise. He looked as if he’d just woken up from a daze, his blue eyes wide as he processed what Mr. Harris had just said. 

“Uh... sure,” Isaac muttered, standing up. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events.

On one hand, the idea of spending time with Isaac Lahey—someone who had a habit of making you feel inexplicably flustered—was nerve-wracking.

On the other hand, there was no way you could have carried all those books by yourself, so maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome. 

Isaac slowly walked over to where you were standing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

You exchanged a quick look with Isaac before heading for the door. He followed close behind, the heels of his sneakers making soft noises against the tiled floor. 

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet only broken by the faint echo of voices from other classrooms.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was tall and his curly blonde-brown hair looked almost golden under the fluorescent hallway lights. 

As you stepped into the library, a shiver ran down your spine. You rubbed your arms, mumbling, “Geez, it’s freezing in here.” 

Isaac, who was just a step behind you, glanced around and replied casually, “They probably left the window open. It’s the wind.” 

Reaching the secluded room where the chemistry books were kept, you fished the key Mr. Harris had begrudgingly handed you out of your pocket. The lock clicked open with a small metallic sound, and you pushed the door wide. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you began, stepping inside the small, dimly lit room with Isaac trailing close behind. “I don’t remember the names of half the books we’re supposed to get.” 

A soft chuckle escaped from him, low and warm, breaking the stillness. Your heart gave a little stutter at the sound, and you silently cursed yourself for how easily his laugh could affect you. 

What you didn’t notice, though, was Isaac pausing briefly as he stepped into the room, taking a deep, steadying breath. The walls felt like they were closing in already, the tightness of the space triggering a familiar sense of unease. But he wasn’t about to show that—not in front of you.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on you instead, the way your fingers skimmed the spines of the books, while concentrating on finding the needed books. It was enough to momentarily distract him from the panic threatening to claw its way up his chest. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” Isaac finally said, attempting a joke. His voice came out steady enough, laced with a light teasing edge as he scanned the shelves. 

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “Great. So, between the two of us, we’ll definitely manage to fail this task.” 

“Confidence is key,” he quipped, earning a small laugh from you that made his chest feel a little less tight. 

The two of you fell into a rhythm, moving to opposite sides of the cramped room as you worked. Your fingers brushed over the rough edges of old chemistry books, occasionally pulling one out to glance at the title before replacing it.

For you, the silence was pleasant. For Isaac, it was suffocating. 

His gaze kept flicking back to you, as though anchoring himself to the sight of you could keep the memories at bay. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to press in closer, threatening to drag him back to dark basements and locked doors, but every time his breathing quickened, he’d force his eyes back to you. 

You must’ve felt his gaze because you glanced over your shoulder, catching him mid-stare. “You okay over there?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly. He cleared his throat, pretending to focus on a random book in front of him. “Totally fine.” 

You squinted at him, not entirely convinced, but let it go. “If you say so.” 

As you turned back to the shelves, Isaac silently cursed himself. He needed to get it together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—on the edge of unraveling over something as simple as a small room. 

The door behind you groaned faintly, drawing both your attention. A sudden thud echoed as the heavy wooden door swung shut, making you jump. 

“What on—” you started, spinning around to face it. 

Isaac froze, his pulse spiking as the sound reverberated through the room. His throat felt dry, and for a second, he couldn’t move. 

“Is it... locked?” you asked, stepping toward the door and jiggling the handle. It didn’t budge. 

Isaac’s jaw clenched as he stared at the door, his mind racing. He stepped forward grabbing the handle.

“It’s locked,” he confirmed, his voice tight. 

“Well, that’s just perfect,” you muttered, turning to face him. “Guess we’re stuck until someone finds us.” 

Isaac didn’t respond, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing. 

You frowned, stepping closer to him. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. 

“Isaac,” you said softly, tilting your head as you studied him. 

Isaac’s hands were on the door handle, pushing and pulling with increasing desperation. The sound of the metal creaking under his grip filled the small room, making your chest tighten. 

“Isaac,” you repeated, your voice steady but edged with concern. He didn’t seem to hear you, his breaths growing harsher, each exhale shaky and uneven. 

You took a step closer, trying to figure out how to snap him out of whatever was happening. That’s when you noticed it—his eyes. The faint, eerie glow of gold that had replaced his usual blue. 

Oh no. 

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice softer now, but still firm. He kept wrestling with the door, his claws just starting to extend. You felt your heart start to race. 

He was slipping. 

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. “Isaac, it’s okay—” 

Before you could finish, his head snapped toward you, his glowing eyes locking onto yours. He moved faster than you could react, grabbing your wrist. You gasped, pain flaring as his claws pressed against your skin. 

“Isaac, stop!” you murmured, trying to keep your voice calm even as his hold tightened. He wasn’t himself—not entirely—and you needed to tread carefully. 

But he wasn’t letting go. He stepped forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the shelves with a dull thud. The books rattled from the impact, and you felt your heart lurch. 

“Isaac,” you tried again, louder this time, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. His fangs were visible now, and his expression was feral—more animal than human. 

You swallowed hard, panic bubbling up, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Isaac, it’s me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even recognize you. His grip on your wrist was unrelenting, and you could feel your pulse pounding against his claws. 

“Isaac, listen to me!” you said, your voice stronger this time. “You’re not in danger. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

His eyes flickered, the golden hue dimming slightly before brightening again. You could see the battle playing out in his head—his human side wrestling with the wolf. 

“You’re hurting me,” you said, your voice strained but steady. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, the sharp sting in your wrist growing harder to ignore. 

Isaac’s glowing yellow eyes bore into yours, unrecognizing, primal. You tugged lightly, trying to free your hand from his grip, but his hold was unrelenting.

Your lip trembled under your teeth, and you bit down harder, trying to focus on anything other than the ache radiating from his claws. 

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice breaking slightly. “Please, you’re hurting me.” 

The words seemed to hang in the air, cutting through the haze in his mind. His glowing eyes faltered, flickering between gold and blue as realization began to creep in. 

His grip loosened—first slightly, then completely—as if he’d been burned. His claws retracted instantly, and he stumbled back, his expression shifting from feral to horrified in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “I—I’m so sorry.” 

You instinctively cradled your wrist, wincing at the dull ache left behind, but your focus stayed on him. His face was pale, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He looked down at his hands as though they weren’t his own, flexing his fingers in disbelief. 

“I didn’t mean—” His voice cracked as he stepped back again, putting more distance between the two of you. “I didn’t want to—” 

Isaac sat down on the floor, his back against the cold bookshelf, his head buried in his hands as he tried to steady his breathing. His chest heaved, and his fingers gripped at his hair like it was the only thing holding him together.

You winced slightly, feeling the remnants of pain in your wrist, but you pushed it aside, focusing on him.

He was far more important right now. 

You slowly took a step forward, feeling the pull in your chest to comfort him, to reassure him that it was going to be okay. Without thinking too much about it, you lowered yourself down beside him, sitting carefully on the floor.

Isaac’s eyes slowly met yours, his face pale and his expression still full of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice rough.

His gaze dropped to your wrist, where his marks still lingered, faint red lines, like a reminder of what had just happened. “I hurt you...” 

His words trailed off. His breath hitched, and you could see how deeply he regretted it. The self-blame was eating at him, his shoulders slumping even more as he shook his head. “I’m so sorry...” 

You carefully leaned forward. “Isaac…” you started softly, your voice gentle, steady. “I’m okay.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with doubt. "Are you?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. He was so torn, and the weight of his concern for you was written across his face. 

You scooted a little closer, now sitting in front of him but close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice firm, even though you could still feel the tremor in your own chest.

Isaac looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly.You gently reached out, placing your hand on his arm, hoping the contact would ground him.

He didn’t pull away this time. 

He looked up at you then, eyes softening as they met yours.

“I don’t know what happened,” he confessed quietly, his voice a little broken. “I—I lost control, and I thought—God, I thought I was going to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“I know you didn’t,” you whispered. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re not that person, Isaac. I know that.” 

He stared at you for a moment, his expression slowly shifting, as if something inside him was beginning to break free. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the intensity in his eyes softened. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured, his voice a little shakier now. “Especially you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

The silence that fell between you two was no longer uncomfortable but filled with unspoken understanding.

It wasn’t until Isaac cleared his throat that the moment seemed to shift, something in his demeanor changing. “You know… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes never left yours. 

You looked at him, your heart starting to race.

“What is it?” you asked, voice soft. 

Isaac seemed to take a deep breath before he spoke again. “I... I like you. I don’t just mean as a friend, or... whatever this is. I—” He broke off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I never said anything because I didn’t know how to—” 

He stopped himself, his words fumbling as he tried to figure out how to make sense of what he was saying.

“I like you too,” you said before he could finish, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. 

Isaac’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost unsure if he had heard you right. Then, a soft smile crept onto his face, and your heart skipped a beat. It was shy, hesitant, but real. 

“I really like you,” you repeated, this time with a little more confidence, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. 

Isaac’s eyes softened as he processed your confession. The tension in his face slowly faded, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, you thought it might be the first real, carefree smile you had seen from him in a long time.  

You smiled back, your breath finally slowing as the weight on your chest lifted.

After a few moments of silence, you shifted, moving closer to him without really thinking.

Without saying a word, you gently rested your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but the way Isaac’s body stiffened at first, as if unsure of what to do, made you smile softly.

But then, he relaxed. His breath seemed to steady, and you felt his shoulder shift slightly as he adjusted to the new closeness. 

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you stay there, his warmth spreading through you like a quiet reassurance.

His hand, which had been fidgeting nervously in his lap, slowly moved towards yours. It hovered for a second, unsure, before his fingers gently brushed against yours.

You smiled to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly, the action as comforting for you as it seemed to be for him. 

Isaac shifted just a little, turning slightly toward you, his head leaning ever so slightly closer to yours. You could feel his breath on your hair, soft and steady. I

"I'm glad you're here," Isaac murmured softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

You smiled, your eyes fluttering closed as the weight of the day, the tension, and the worries drifted away. "Me too." 

And for a while, you just stayed there, sitting in the dim light of the small room, head resting on his shoulder, hands intertwined, finding comfort in each other’s touch.

[metalomagnetic]

So do Sirius’s kids turn out to be less ignorant and have a better understanding of muggle culture? Especially because of Nymphadora’s influence (due to her Muggleborn father). Like would they show an interest in the public library go to concerts (like their dad did) and while I do understand that they’re being raised by the pureblood equivalent of Nazis basically (Bellatrix, Lucius and unfortunately to a lesser extent, Sirius), do the kinds end up not-so-bigoted or less likely to dehumanise muggles and Muggleborns as they grow up, go to Hogwarts and stop parroting their parents?

Do you think the way Sirius grew up to realise the ideology behind Grindelwald was wrong, Sirius’ children would also realise that their family members were the extremely powerful and rich aggressors who were out torturing and killing people for no reason? Would Sirius ever even allude to his children that- that their aunt Bellatrix, uncle Lucius, all the adults there grew up around tortured and killed people simply because they wanted to?- that there was never any greater purpose to it since they wrote already at the apex of their society.

We saw that Sirius tells Harry a sanitised and falsified version of this- to atleast make it seem like it was war and not simply terrorism and that the murder of Harry’s parents had meaning. But as Harry and his sibling get older, do they get told or just realise the truth? Especially because Nymphadora already understands/knows the truth atleast subconsciously- she just doesn’t wanna acknowledge it - will Sirius’ children be the same?

Will Sirius ever mull on the fact that his beloved Bellatrix is a terrorist - who killed people only for her enjoyment? Or will he excuse beloved Bella, the way he did when she murdered Marlene and her family?

This aspect of the story is truly so dark- the parts where Sirius is grappling with the fact that his family is out here killing and torturing people with no remorse in order to “avenge” Evan when them and their pointless terrorism is the reason his death occurred in the first place, as well as his own pureblood anger over Evan’s death. It’s great. You’re great. The way you weave all these conflicting thoughts into Sirius’ psyche is just amazing.

I also love how in the later chapters, Sirius slowly reconciles with the fact that he is not as good a person as he wishes he was and his moral code- of harming a hundredfold whoever harms him or his. I also like to think that Sirius is probably the kindest and most (open minded? liberal?) accepting Head of House and that he probably wouldn’t go murder a Muggleborn prime minister or hinder their career needlessly out of sheer hatred and prejudice lmao.

Also when I’m reading your fic I keep hoping the kids turn out better because of the kind of father Sirius is- As in his kid’s believe their dad helps whoever he can help and they grow up to emulate that or sm.

Anyway, if you’ve actually read my rant till the end, my apologies. I just can’t get IRITB out of mind T T

Like Sirius before them, his sons will realise who started the war, and that it wasn't fair, nor just. It's not a matter of ignorance here.

They're all trapped in a vicious circle where they know they're not great people, but they don't aim (nor were they raised) to be good people. They want to maintain what they are used to, they were told to 'protect' their family and their position, by whatever means necessary. So they will act when they feel threatened, even if the threat might not be real, only perceived.

Sirius knows he's not a good man, and he made peace with it. He still tries his best not to be the most horrible version of himself, he can still emphastise with others, and tries not to cause harm unnecessarily, but especially now that he has children, he would burn the entire world if he thinks his sons are in any danger, physical danger or just social danger.

Sirius does has inherent bias, and he's somewhat aware of his bigotry. He recognises it's not based in reality, but he can't help but feel that way. He isn't violent in his bigotry, he has no issues befriending muggles or muggleborns, or werewolves or vampires, he helps them if it doesn't inconvenience him, he wishes there was this utopia where they could all live in peace. But when push comes to shove, he'll chose 'his own' people, and he does believe wizard are superior to muggles (though he doesn't think purebloods are superior to muggleborns) and that, as a Black, his bloodline is better than anyone else's (including Lestrange or Malfoy. This isn't about pureblood supremacy, but Black supremacy. He takes extreme pride in his family, even if he knows they're crazy and often wrong in their attitudes).

Of course, Sirius is much less bigoted than his father has been, and OG Orion was less bigoted than his own father. Arcturus was more tolerant than his own father. They do 'evolve' with the times, just very, very slowly.

Sirius' sons were exposed to muggles by their father, but they were also exposed to muggle hate by their mother and virtually everyone else around them, and also Sirius' indifference when someone badmouths muggles.

Orion will never have issues eating muggle food or using muggle inventions, or listening to muggle music. He likes many muggle things, he thinks some are better than magical equivalents, but he'll always feel most comfortable where he was raised- in the magical world. He doesn't think muggles are animals, he is all too aware muggles are just as human and just as intelligent as wizards, however they don't have the same power as wizards, so they will never be equal. He, like Sirius, believes muggleborns are just as magical as purebloods, and they have the same right to practice magic. However, unlike Sirius, he thinks purebloods are 'stronger' than muggleborns by default. He believes the magical power is in the bloodline, and while muggleborns are obviously magical, their 'power' has been diluted by muggle interference. (Both Astrid and Arcturus are to blame for this).

Marvolo is less tolerant than Orion, but less vocal about it, too.

Both boys are raised to maintain the Black way, to represent the Black family, to 'hold the fort' and perpetuate their traditions, because they are the future of the family.

Yet neither is as hateful as Walburga or Astrid or Regulus, specifically because Sirius took them to muggle London often, they were raised with Harry and Dora, and they were also forced to play with Mary's daughters, whom they ended up liking.

Helix is the luckiest; being the third son, there's not such pressure on him, seeing as his chances of one day becoming Head of House are very slim. So no one bothers to indoctrinate him quite as thoroughly. He was born after Arcturus died, so he escaped his influence entirely. From all of them, Helix will be the most chill about blood purity, the most likely to make muggleborn friends on his own, the one to bring back home muggle items and get away with it because he's the baby of the fam and he can do no wrong. However, he is still raised to take pride in his bloodline, so he has that Black excellency mind set, too.

Overall, I would say at least the boys have no issues with half-bloods, because this was where Sirius made the most effort; he was determined to protect Harry, so none of his sons hold inherent prejudice against half-bloods, especially half-bloods raised by wizards. Dora, to them, is as Black as the rest, and they don't care at all her father is a muggleborn. She has Black blood and that's all that matters. Orion wouldn't hesitate to put her on the family tree.

If someone told them half-bloods are less magical, they'll call that person an idiot. If someone told them Harry, specifically, is less magical than a pureblood, they would beat the shit out of that person. However, they are aware Harry is not a Black. Orion wouldn't put Harry on the family tree.

Muggles are a threat to them, not on an individual level, but on a gender scale. Muggles wouldn't react well if they find out about wizards, as we all know. Set aside the religious aspect that would make muggles go crazy, but also the fear factor- let's be real, none of us would be too happy to know there are wizards around that can erase our memory, control us with the Imperius etc. We would not feel comfortable knowing there are eleven year olds out there that are handed a weapon of mass destruction. No muggle army would love the thought a 14 year old kid could potential annihilate an entire batalion of muggles with a wave of his wand.

All wizards, including muggleborns, believe muggles would react violently towards the magical world, if they ever discovered it.

So, to Orion, and Sirius, and Lucius, and Harry, and even Dumbledore, they do understand the inherent threat muggles pose.

They will always keep their distance, and Orion, like all Blacks before him since the inquisition, will think muggles as a whole are dangerous to their community, but on an individual level they can be fine. But, in his option, best not to mix with them, lessen the odds of discovery.