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7-wonders · 2 months ago

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"Taking the kids trick-or-treating"

I've had a couple of requests for more single parent!reader and not-the-step-dad-but-the-dad-who-stepped-up!Morpheus, so figured this would be a fun Halloween prompt. And it was! Enjoy :)

(Other works in this little -verse of mine: 1 2)

Caroline stands patiently on the stool that you have her set up on, watching It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown as you attempt to create her perfect Halloween costume. The large pair of wings you’re trying to center on her back, however, are making that harder than you anticipated. Through all of your minute adjustments, she’s been relatively still, though that might also be due to the Ring Pop you bribed her with.

When Morpheus appears in a swirl of sand, neither of you flinch. Instead, Caroline squeals and waves excitedly, nearly bouncing up and down. “Hi, Dream!”

“Hold still, baby, I don’t want to poke you,” you gently chide, holding up one of the pins to demonstrate that you are, in fact, wielding something capable of poking her. Once she’s settled down again, you look up at your boyfriend (he’d hate it if you called him something as modern as ‘boyfriend’ which is why you like to exclusively refer to him as that in your head) and smile. “Hi, Morpheus.”

“Good evening,” he greets you both, taking in the scene before him. “What do we have here?”

“We’re making my Halloween costume!” Caroline explains.

“Tell Dream what you’re going as,” you prompt.

“I’m a bat! Eek, eek!”

You smile wryly at her bat impression. “Some kids want to be princesses or superheroes, mine wants to be a bat.”

Caroline didn’t just want to be a bat. No, she insisted on being a bat. You’re not quite sure where she got the idea, but once it was in her head, she would settle for nothing less as her Halloween costume. And after perusing the internet for different costume options, you both decided that you could make one more in line with what she was envisioning. So after finding a black dress and a sufficient pair of bat wings—shoutout, Etsy—you used your limited sewing skills and went to work. Anything for your quirky kid.

“You will make a wonderful bat,” Morpheus says to her.

Now that Caroline has a new captive audience, she begins to chatter about all that she’s excited for—the pumpkin patch you’ve told her you’ll go to tomorrow, carving pumpkins, the Halloween party at preschool, and, of course, trick-or-treating. She’s halfway through describing her favorite house (the one that has multiple twelve-foot skeletons in their front yard) when she gasps.

“Will you come trick-or-treating with us?” Caroline asks eagerly.

Your heart jumps in your chest as you rush to do damage control. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“If you would like me to join you, then I would be happy to do so.”

“Really?” You voice your surprise at the same time as your daughter, who’s currently looking up at Morpheus like he’s hung the stars in the sky.

“I have no other obligations that evening.”

Caroline squeals again, louder and more excited than before. “Dream’s going to come trick-or-treating!” she informs you as though you just walked into the room.

“I know! That’s so nice of him!” Deciding that the wings are pinned in the right spot, you set the rest of your supplies down. “Go put your jammies on and then we’ll finish watching Charlie Brown before bed, okay?”

“Okay!” She hops down from the stool and bounces into her room, her bat wings jostling the entire way.

Once the door is closed, you turn to Morpheus. “You absolutely do not have to come with us if you don’t want to. I can explain to her that you’re busy! I’m sure that you are busy, y’know, ruling a realm or whatever.”

“I can take a couple of hours to enjoy an evening with you both,” he assures.

“Really?” you ask again.

“Of course. However, I do have one question.”

“What?”

“What exactly is ‘trick-or-treating’?” Morpheus asks curiously.

///

Morpheus arrives on Halloween night, as promised. Though he’s wearing what he normally wears on his outings to the Waking, he could very easily be confused as dressing up for the holiday as some sort of Prince of Darkness. Which…isn’t that far off from reality.

“You did not tell me that you would be dressed up as well,” he notes with amusement, taking in your all-black ensemble and witch hat.

You shrug. “Caroline insisted, and I’m nothing if not a pushover for my daughter.”

“Witches and warlocks do not wear hats such as these,” Morpheus fact-checks.

“I didn’t think they did,” you say with a laugh before pausing and actually taking in what he just said. “Wait, witches and warlocks are—”

Caroline chooses that moment to appear from her bedroom and grins when she sees her favorite person, running and launching herself toward him. “You’re here!”

“I told you that I would be, and I am not one to go back on my word,” Morpheus assures her.

Caroline’s wearing her now-completed bat costume, which consists of the dress and wings, as well as a pair of tights with bats printed on them and a bat ear headband (you’re pretty proud of that craft job, courtesy of cardboard, felt, and hot glue). You’re most definitely biased, but she’s the cutest bat you’ve ever seen. By the way that Morpheus watches her as she spins around to show him her costume—with his sparkling eyes and slight smile—you get the sense that he feels the same.

“I quite like your costume,” he informs her, making her beam.

“Thank you!” Now that everybody is here and costumes are on, Caroline looks at you expectantly. “Is it time?”

Shooting a furtive wink at Morpheus, you take your sweet time checking your watch before humming loudly. “I don’t know…”

“Please!”

“Alright, my baby bat, let’s get going.”

And thus begins one of the most powerful beings in the universe’s first experience of trick-or-treating. Honestly, you can’t tell who’s more enthralled by the sights and sounds: your four-year-old daughter or your billions-upon-billions-year-old boyfriend. Morpheus’s careful eyes catalog everything, from the gaggles of costumed children skipping past to the decorations each house is bedecked with. He listens to laughter and music, smells that distinct fall scent of leaves, and feels a chill in the air. He makes sure to note everything that he can possibly remember about this night—whether that be to use for creating new dreams and nightmares or for personal memory, you’re unsure.

“Lucienne gave me many resources to learn more about the progression of the holiday,” he admits as you walk up the driveway of the first house. You smile at the mental image of the Dreaming’s faithful librarian stacking book after book into Morpheus’s waiting arms until neither can see the other past it.

“And did they help?” you ask.

“They gave me a general idea, but I am learning far more simply by being in the Waking on All Hallows’ Eve.”

“Get ready, because this is where the real schooling begins,” you tell him before bending down next to Caroline on the front porch. “Do you want to knock, or do you want me to do it for you?”

“I got it!” She says determinedly, marching a whole four steps ahead of you to the front door and knocking her little fist against it three times. In the couple of moments that it takes for the owner of the house to answer the door, you have to hold yourself back from joining Caroline and knocking louder on her behalf. No, you’d rather her get some independence on this outing, even if you’d prefer to make things as easy for your baby as possible.

“Oh, a little bat!” the teenage girl handing out the candy coos when she sees Caroline, who holds out her plastic pumpkin bucket expectantly.

“Trick-or-treat!” The teenager dutifully forks over a handful of candy (cute kid perks), and Caroline beams. “Thank you!”

She comes skipping over to you and Morpheus with her bucket extended so that she can show you her earnings. “Good job, sweetheart,” you praise.

“You did very well,” Morpheus says.

Caroline smiles bashfully at him before looking at you. “Next house?”

“Next house,” you confirm.

On it continues, your little trio moving from house to house, you and Morpheus watching as Caroline knocks on doors and charms her way into too much candy. The excitement of the night must be fueling her—you make it three-quarters of the way around the block you’ve chosen for tonight before she starts flashing big eyes at you and complaining that her feet are too heavy.

(Morpheus is the first to give in, sweeping her up into his long arms and carrying her. You try not to get too emotional at the sight, but find that hard when, instead of setting her down at the doors of the remaining houses, he continues to hold her while she gets her candy.)

“Can I have a piece of candy?” Caroline asks on the walk back home.

“One now and one when we get home, and that’s it for the night,” you inform her in the hopes that you’ll avoid a meltdown before bed.

She nods, already digging through her jack-o-lantern to find a suitable option. When she comes up with a Reese’s, you do your parental duty of checking to make sure it’s unopened before opening it and handing her her requested sweet. Once she’s occupied, you sneak out a piece for yourself, smirking when you catch Morpheus’s eye.

“What? We helped.” You grab a mini Hershey’s bar from the stash and hold it out towards him. “Do you want one?”

He looks at it appraisingly; likely the first time he’s ever been asked if he would like a piece of candy. After a moment’s deliberation, he takes it from you. Now it’s your turn to be enraptured, watching as he unwraps it and studies it like it’s from a foreign planet. He places the chocolate in his mouth, and you wait with bated breath for his verdict.

“It is adequate,” he decides.

“‘Adequate,’” you repeat with a laugh. “I’ll take it.”

“Are we almost home?” Caroline pipes up, her cheek smushed against Morpheus’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”

Luckily, you are almost home, and from there the bedtime routine is simple. Through a quick bath, an agonizing pick over which Halloween pajamas to wear to bed, brushing teeth, and a bedtime story, Morpheus remains in your living room despite you telling him that he can leave if he has better things to do in the Dreaming. When your baby bat is finally asleep, you join him and fall onto the couch. The bucket of Halloween candy sits untouched on your coffee table; though you know that you should go through and quickly check everything, you just can’t bring yourself to do it right now.

“Thank you for coming with us tonight,” you say. “I know it meant a lot to Caroline. It means a lot to me, too.”

“I enjoyed getting to accompany you. I have not had much cause to experience mortal holidays beyond what fragments I see as I traverse dreamscapes.”

“What was your favorite part of the modern mortal Halloween?”

He ponders this. “The ingenuity of those participating in the holiday.”

That sounds about right for what you were expecting Morpheus to say. While you’d love to hear about what he enjoyed about the earlier iterations of Halloween, there’s only one thing that you want from him right now. Reaching out, you pull a random piece of candy out of Caroline’s bucket and hold it out to him.

“Trick-or-treat,” you say softly, leaning in to kiss him when he starts to grab for the candy.

“You taste of chocolate,” he notes after you pull away, delight coloring his tone.

“You do, too.”

He takes the candy from your hand, only to turn around and hold it out to you. “Must I say it, or may I skip directly to collecting my treat?”

Though that thought is tempting, you decide that he’s gone out of his comfort zone enough for tonight and happily accept his lips on yours once more. Checking Halloween candy can most definitely wait.

#happy halloween my loves!#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless imagine

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immortalmrwavell · 3 months ago

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Sam’s Choice - The Red Box

(Original story posted November 27th 2021) This story has been updated!

Make sure to read ➡️ The Prologue ⬅️ first!

Sam’s gaze darted between the three boxes. Weirdly this felt like one of the biggest choices of his life. Simply picking a box. And yet it probably was since his life could take a very different turn depending on which box he chooses .

It took some time for him to finally come to a decision. Wavell was surprisingly patient though, sitting back in an armchair as he watched Sam struggle. But eventually after taking a long deep breath, he grabbed one of the three boxes. “This one.” he said as held up none other than the red box.

“Alrighty then. Red it is.” Looking satisfied, Wavell snapped his finger with a glow once more causing the remaining two boxes to vanish in a puff of smoke. “Now. Usually I tend to stick around for the next part… but I think I’ll give you some privacy for this. Besides, I can always use my magic crystal ball to rewatch what's about to happen.” Wavell laughed, waving his hands about.

Despite that, Sam couldn’t tell if Wavell was being serious about that or not. He only gulped as Wavell returned to his ghostly form before disappearing through the walls of the hotel. Finally leaving Sam alone with the red box.

He sat back down on the bed, resting the box on his lap before gently gripping the underside of the lid. There was a pounding sensation in his chest that felt like a mix of both excitement and anxiety as he slowly but surely pulled off the lid.

Placing the lid to one side, he looked into the box excitedly. Not knowing at all what to expect. Yet what he saw definitely piqued Sam’s interest. Inside the red box was a pair of black shiny oxford dress shoes matched with a pair of long black dress socks folded neatly beside them.

Right away Sam could tell they were a very good make and in great condition. From what he could they’d been worn a handful of times but not many, still relatively new and well looked after. The same seemed to be true for the socks as he gently ran his fingers across the soft cotton.

He proceeded to remove both the socks and oxfords from the box with care in order to get a better look at them. He moved the now empty box to one side as he placed the formal footwear on his lap. Inspecting them a little closer, Sam could not only tell just how prestine the shoes were but also that they were a few sizes larger than his own shoes. But not by many. Only about 2 sizes bigger.

As he stared down at them in admiration, Sam couldn’t help but imagine what kind of man these shoes had belonged to. Or rather what kind of man now had his soul trapped inside them. In his head he could already see it being some hot older businessman. A middle aged daddy with silver hair and ruggedly handsome features. To steal a body and life like that would be hot to say the least. Well there was only one way to find out.

And that was to put on the shoes.

The young psychic was quick to slip off his own socks and shoes, tossing them across the room before grabbing the black dress socks. He rolled up his jeans in an effort to pull the fancy socks all the way up over his calves. Once he had he couldn’t help wiggling his toes a little and enjoying just how comfortable the socks felt. The soft and likely expensive material hugged his legs. He took a moment to appreciate just how good the socks alone felt before quickly moving onto the shoes.

As Sam grabbed one of the oxfords, the feeling of excitement and anticipation began running through him. His heart beating faster in his chest as his mind wandered to all the potential outcomes that these shoes could bring him. Though just as he was about to lean down and slip them on, he felt an urge that he very quickly gave into. Sam brought one of the shiny oxfords back up to his face and dove his nose into the expensive shoe. In doing so allowing his nose to fill with a mix of the leathery new shoe smell that came with the oxforbs along with the faint musk of the man who’d recently worn it. The scent was immaculate! Sam only wished that it was stronger. Well he could fix that soon enough when the feet producing that smell were his own.

Then, after giving the other shoe a quick whiff as well, Sam finally leaned down and began pulling on the enchanted shoes. Loving the feeling of his feet sliding into each Oxford with ease. And with that Sam stood up from the bed once again, looking down at his shiny new shoes with a grin. There was a little bit of wiggle room inside but aside from that they were incredibly comfortable just like the socks.

And then finally it started.

A tornado of magic began to surge and spin around Sam, blurring his vision of the hotel room. Before he had time to panic or do anything however, he doubled over in discomfort and rising tension as the most bizarre sensation overtook his body. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling flooded every nerve. He could feel something changing within him. His body was transforming itself dramatically but he could hardly open his eyes to see what was happening. A confusing mixture of pain and pleasure took over as everything about his appearance changed in order to transform him into a perfect visage of the man that once wore those classy black oxfords. Even his clothes seemed to change!

After what felt like an eternity, the transformation began slow as it reached completion. The whirlwind of magical energy started to dissipate just as Sam opened his eyes. Immediately he could tell he was no longer in the hotel. As the magic vanished completely, Sam could see that he was now standing behind a huge ornate desk in what seemed to be a large and expensive looking office.

Looking around there were shelves of books along with decorative art pieces. There were cabinets full to the brim with all sorts of files along with other bits of fancy looking decorum scattered around the room. Behind him was a huge window that, when looking out of it, Sam was able to see an aerial view of a city he didn’t quite recognise. He must’ve been near, if not on, the top floor of a skyscraper! Being able to look down at the bustling streets below and all its people as though he were some sort of deity.

It was then he finally noticed his change of attire. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice the second he regained his vision because it was so striking. Looking down he saw that a stylish three piece navy blue suit now clung tightly to his body along with a red dotted tie wrapped around his neck. He was quick to run his hands down the expensive fabric. Though as he did Sam noticed the difference in his hands. They weren’t the same ones he was used to. They looked slightly larger but also well manicured and looked after. But it wasn’t just his hands. It was his entire body!

Everything underneath the suit felt… different. As he ran his arms up and down his torso, arms and even his legs a little, Sam found that he was no longer the skinny twinkish man he’d always been. Not at all. Because underneath his new suit was a body sculpted with powerful but lean muscle. He could feel it. The thicker biceps. The pronounced chest. The subtle abs. Not to mention the perfect dusting of body hair covering it all. It was all well hidden under the suit but it was there.

There was powerful stirring in Sam’s new suit pants. A large and excitable bulge became more visible by the second as his cock engorged. Even that seemed to have grown bigger. He had half a mind to rip off his fancy suit right here and now just to see and feel his new body in all its glory. That was until he saw a large wall mirror mounted across the room. At that moment only a single question was running through Sam’s mind.

What did his face look like?

And that’s exactly what he was about to find out as he strode across the room with a newfound confidence he’d never had before. Like it was ingrained in him somehow. And as he walked, Sam also couldn’t help but notice how his feet now fit perfectly inside his new oxfords. Like he’d owned them all along. And from now on he would.

“Oh… my god.” Sam muttered to himself in a voice that was noticeably different in both its tone and depth as stood facing the mirror. Staring back at him was what looked to be a bearded man in his mid 30s with short styled hair and one of the most gorgeous faces you’d ever see. The kind of face you’d see on the front of men’s magazines talking about success and fulfillment. And as he brushed a hand through his beard and hair, Sam’s cock visibly jumped in his pants. This was the new him. And the mere thought of that was driving him mad with lust.

At last both hands wandered towards his crotch. He rubbed the outline of pulsing erection through his pants, visibly surprised by the sheer size of his new cock. It was incredibly thick. So much so that Sam doubted he’d even be able to fit his hand the whole way around. The length was just as breathtaking as it snaked down his pants and against one of his thighs. Sam had obviously hoped he’d get a bigger cock but this was far beyond what he’d imagined. It was monstrous!

He continued to stroke his bulge while admiring his dashing new face in the mirror. What he didn’t notice however was a man, one of the many employees at the building, peeping through the window to Sam’s office from the hallway. Sam was far too engrossed in his new reflection to realise this other man was perving on him.

Finally, after plenty of teasing, Sam was about to whip his cock out and start jacking it furiously. But he didn’t get the chance as before he was even able to undo his zipper, there was a sudden jolt of pleasure that shot through his body and down into his crotch. It was like receiving a hundred blowjobs all at once!

“OOOOHHH FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!!!” Sam roared in ecstasy as his cock and balls began to twitch uncontrollably. His jaw went a little slack as his eyes rolled back in a state of pure bliss. It was impossible to hold himself back. In seconds he found himself clenching his ass tight before shooting buckets worth of cum in an instant, completely soaking the inside of his pants.

That was the trigger for his memories.

Before he knew it Sam’s brain was flooded with the life and memories of the man he’d become. His new name was Gareth Russo, a very rich and powerful man. He was the CEO of a large and successful company and was currently standing in his office at the main company building. He received memories of his family, friends and employee’s and not to mention a girlfriend. At first this memory would’ve made Sam roll his eyes while thinking he’d have to turn this straight man’s life completely gay. Yet as more and more memories barraged his mind, it soon became apparent that Gareth wasn’t actually straight at all! In fact he was just closeted and thought that coming out would somehow make him seem less manly and capable. How stupid.

Sam snapped back to reality at last once the majority of his new memories had settled in, a hand still grasping his damp bulge. That was when he finally noticed the man perving on him through the window. Sam turned and glared at the man who immediately ran upon realising he’d been caught. But Sam had just gotten a good enough look to recognise who it was.

It was Jack, his Personal Assistant. Jack was a large burly man in his late 40’s with greying hair and a thick beard. According to his memories, Gareth actually promoted Jack to being his PA simokg because of how badly he wanted to fuck the older man’s thick bearish ass. However due to him still being closeted, Gareth hadn’t made any kind of move yet. Well that was all about to change.

But just then Sam remembered what must’ve happened to the real Gareth. He smirked fiendishly while looking down at his oxford dress shoes. He walked around his desk and sat down in the huge leather chair before reaching down and pulling off one of the oxfords. Putting it eye level with himself before he spoke.

“I know that wizard is incredible but I never could’ve imagined I’d land a body this hot and a life this amazing when I opened that box and put you on.” Sam taunted one of the possessed dress shoes that housed the soul of the real Gareth. Now you get to spend the rest of your life helpless and trapped inside your own oxford dress shoes. My oxford dress shoes. Forced to watch me live out your perfect rich CEO life. Ugh god… I’m gonna have so much fucking sex. With men. Something you were too afraid to do.” He continued to boast before taunting even further by making a dick sucking motion with his other hand and mouth. “Don’t worry though. I’ll try to wear you as often as possible so you don’t miss out on much. That way I can get you nice and smelly too.” He laughed. And with that he gave the shoe a quick sniff before shoving back on its respective foot.

The real Gareth screamed and protested but his cries were left unheard. He was unable to do anything as both his shoe bodies were filled up by the very feet he used to own. Only being able to watch as his former body grinned down at him before pulling his phone out from the pocket inside his suit jacket. Sam scrolled through the messages on his phone until he found Jack. The real Gareth was then forced to look on as Sam pulled up his phone camera and took a picture of the massive cum stain around his crotch before sending it to his daddy of a PA along with a message.

Gareth — I saw you watching me, Jack. Why don’t you come back to my office and help me get cleaned up like a good assistant

It was only mere 5 seconds before Jack read the message. The three typing dots appeared at the bottom of the chat for a moment before disappearing again. Jack must’ve been so surprised by the message that he didn’t know how to respond.

Sam then set his phone up on the desk and put the camera on a timer. The real Gareth watched from below in disbelief as his imposter pulled up the back of his suit jacket and turned his ass to the camera. Then allowing the camera to snap a perfect shot of his perky suited butt that was practically begging for a cock to be shoved inside it.

Picking his phone back up, Sam took a quick look at the picture before nodding in approval. Despite the powerful orgasm he’d just had, looking at his new butt was already giving him another hard on. So much so that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back to give it a quick squeeze. As his cock firmed up Sam sent the picture along with another message.

Gareth - Once you’ve cleaned me up I might let you assist me in other ways as well

After that one Jack responded rather quickly.

Jack — Yes sir! I’m now on my way

The rest went exactly as planned. Jack arrived in no time and before long the older daddy was on his knees sucking his boss’ gargantuan cock clean. Licking and sucking off the load Sam had shot earlier before somehow making Sam blow a second load as well! Of which Jack was more than eager to swallow as well.

Shortly after that Sam decided his lovely assistant had done enough sucking on his knees and deserved a reward for being such a good daddy. And so Sam bent himself over his own desk, presenting his suited ass for Jack to worship. As soon as he was given permission, Jack groped at his boss’ ass. Smacking and kneading at the cheeks he never imagined he’d get a chance to touch. And before long shoving his face against Sam’s suited butt as he pulled out his own cock.

Jack eventually built up the courage to pull Sam’s pants down and gently pressed his dad dick between his boss’ ass cheeks and into that incredibly tight hole. It was clear his boss had never been properly fucked by another man before so he didn’t want to go too hard. But soon enough Sam was practically ordering Jack to destroy his ass! Well Jack couldn’t disobey a direct command from the CEO. So the next thing they knew, Jack was fucking Sam into oblivion before finally moaning out and breeding his Boss’ ass with as much cum as he could stuff in there.

———

A couple weeks have passed since then. The new Gareth officially came out as Gay while leaving his former girlfriend to be with Jack. He absolutely adored his new life as Gareth Russo. Getting to be a smart and powerful millionaire with a sexy body and hot boyfriend. It was quite literally a dream come true in every sense. This was a level of success Sam could never have achieved before. And now he had it all. A perfect life all thanks to his new shoes.

That said, the real Gareth had eventually given in and accepted his new reality in being nothing but a pair of shiny dress shoes. He loved whenever his old body filled him up with his large feet and went about his day at the office. And after just a few weeks of use, his two shoe bodies had begun to stink up a bit with his former body’s sweaty scent. But he loved it more than anything. And so did Jack apparently as the daddy assistant turned boyfriend would frequently find himself sniffing the shoes. Sometimes just before sex as a bit of foreplay. But other times Jack would sneakily take them after Gareth when he wasn’t looking after a long day at work and huff on them for a while before putting them back. Even though they were boyfriends now, Jack was still a bit of a perv.

“Looks like he did what that body's previous owner was too afraid to do.” The invisible Mr Wavell chuckled as he walked in on the new Gareth slamming into Jack’s fat bear ass with his massive cock. Wavell decided he may as well sit back and enjoy the show as the two men filled the room with the sound of their groans. Gareth’s balls smacking loudly against Jack’s ass in a lewd display of sexual domination.

Wavell then noticed the shoes across the room. “Bet you’re loving this aren’t ya.” He smirked devilishly. “Seeing him become a better version of you and fucking the man you always wanted. Just goes to show that he was always meant to be Gareth Russo. While you were always meant to be nothing more than his fancy oxfords.” He stated boldly, knowing the real Gareth was in there watching the show with him. And if the former man could speak, he would have agreed with the wizard that did this to him. As much as it didn’t make sense. As much as he should want to hate Wavell for doing this. The soul of the original Gareth couldn’t help loving his new existence as nothing more than a pair of shoes for his new master.

“FUUUUUUUCKKKK.” The new Gareth roared before unleashing an enormous load inside his boyfriend’s ass and breeding his hole nice and deep.

#mr wavell #magic #male body theft #male tf #male transformation #identity theft #male musk #suited #boss and employee #ceo body swap #mental change #straight to gay #suited body swap #tf by clothing #clothing tf #boss #male body swap

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sughuru · 1 year ago

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seventh of december

- gojo satoru x reader

Satoru was never one to celebrate his birthday. Matter of fact, he actually hated it. Except on three occassions.

genres/warnings: fluff, birthday fic, kinda rushed tbh, not proofread

notes: happy birthday gojo, i know you're alive pls come back :((( anyways enjoy, i kinda rushed this bc i still have some school stuff to do so i hope you guys understand! as always, english isn't my first language so pls excuse my grammatical and spelling errors

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Not merely Satoru's birthday, and he despised that. He loathed how his powers and name were incessantly brought up, dominating every conversation, overshadowing his personality and achievements.

All his life, he hated his birthday except on three occasions.

The first birthday he ever genuinely enjoyed was celebrated with his high school friends, Suguru and Shoko.

Satoru checked his flip phone and noticed the endless SMS notifications from relatives to clan members he doesn’t even know the face of. He's well aware that these messages are only a formality, driven by respect and perhaps a tinge of fear. Deep down, he understands that some clan members harbor hatred at the fact that his parents were the ones to give birth to the next Limitless and Six Eyes user. He knows they all secretly pray for his downfall. Aside from that, if it wasn’t out of respect or fear, perhaps they wanted or needed something from him.

"Satoru," Suguru called to his friend, who was lost in thought on the sports court. Satoru looked up and acknowledged Suguru with a nod. In response, Suguru mouthed, "Come here," while waving him over.

The white-haired male walked towards Suguru, “hah? What’s this all about?”

Suguru brushed off his friend and kept walking, ignoring Satoru's attempts to get his attention. This annoyed Satoru even more. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!" Satoru whined in the most grating voice imaginable, prompting even Suguru to question why he was friends with him.

Suguru shot a glare at Satoru, “maybe if you just shut up and follow me, we’ll get there sooner.”

"Why can't you tell me now? Where are we going? Wow, are you here to take me somewhere quiet and kill me there?" Satoru quipped with a sarcastic tone.

"If you don't stop asking questions, yeah," Suguru replied dryly. Satoru rolled his eyes but continued to follow his friend.

Before long, they arrived at their classroom. Suguru opened the door to reveal a sight that surprised Satoru— all their friends were inside wearing party hats. Even Nanami and Ijichi were there.

"Gojo!" Shoko waved excitedly at the tall male. Suguru grinned, saying, "Happy birthday, Satoru," as he patted his friend on the back. He then led Satoru into the room to join the celebration with their friends.

It was a simple birthday, really. Celebrated among friends and closed ones. Nevertheless, Satoru regarded it as one of his favorite birthday memories.

The following year, Suguru left, and once again, he hated his birthday. Shoko was there to celebrate with him but it wasn’t the same without Suguru. After all, the trio did everything together.

“Happy birthday.” Shoko hands him a bag of kikufuku picked up from a store down the street. Before he could thank her, she was already off to treat some first year who got injured on a mission.

Oh right, they’re third graders now. The final year and final step to being a true Jujutsu Sorcerer.

After Suguru left, Satoru met with two kids and took them in. Megumi and Tsumiki, aged five and eight, respectively. While Tsumiki was generally well-behaved, Megumi proved to be a bit troublesome due to his sharp wit and sarcastic nature. Satoru couldn't help but wonder if he had been similarly mischievous as a child.

The second time he enjoyed his birthday was when he went home that day.

“I’m home…?” He was about to call out the kids, but heard someone bustling in the kitchen. Kitchens clanging and the water running.

"Don't touch that, Gojo-san said we shouldn't use the stove!" Tsumiki warned.

"Well, how do we make something before he gets home then?" Megumi interjected.

"Should we just serve it like this..." Tsumiki examined the plate before her. Megumi deadpanned at his older sister, "A banana on a plate?"

“Shhh! I hear him coming!”

Satoru giggled to himself, hearing their whole conversation, he peeked in the kitchen, “woah, what did you guys do while I was gone?”

Tsumiki and Megumi froze before slowly turning around, “s-surprise!” the two said.

"Happy birthday, Gojo-san. Thanks for taking us in!" Tsumiki presented him with... a banana on a plate.

Satoru smiled, charmed by their efforts. "Aw, did you two prepare this for me?" He didn't want to hurt their feelings, and truthfully, he was genuinely touched by their gesture.

“We also have our own gifts too aside from the cake-”

“Banana.” Megumi corrected.

Tsumiki was the first to present her gift to Gojo. "I hope you like these!"

As Satoru received the gift, he couldn't help but recall the evening a few weeks ago when Tsumiki had asked him to accompany her to get origamis, claiming it was for a school project. Little did he anticipate that those origamis were intended for him. Tsumiki had crafted a jar filled with meticulously folded paper stars, each one carefully placed inside.

Megumi was next, shyly handing Gojo a birthday card. "Happy birthday," he muttered, avoiding eye contact with Satoru. Satoru couldn't help but smile, affectionately ruffling the younger boy's hair. "Oh, you're so cute. Let's see what you drew, hm?"

Opening the card, Satoru observed that Megumi's handwriting had improved. The small card read, "Happy bday Gojo." It was evident that the boy hadn't quite figured out how to spell "birthday" yet.

Satoru promptly hung Megumi's card on the fridge door and placed the jar of stars in a cabinet alongside other souvenirs for display. "Thanks for making my birthday great, guys."

The trio gathered for a photo to commemorate the moment. In the picture, Megumi frowned at the camera while Satoru and Tsumiki beamed with smiles. To this day, that photo remains tucked in Satoru's wallet, a cherished reminder of his first celebrated birthday with the kids.

–

After hearing Shoko and Megumi's stories about how they used to celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday, you found yourself pondering how to surpass the efforts of those two. You bought a small cake from a local bakery shop recommended by Nanami.

“That girl was really nice, I should go visit again next time.” you muttered to yourself as you walked back home.

Satoru shouldn’t be home for another hour so you got to work. You printed pictures of him in high school, his baby pictures, pictures of him and the kids, students, pictures of you two; you transformed them into small cake decorations. Carefully pasting each one onto a wooden stick, you inserted them into the cake.

"Babe, I'm home." Satoru tossed his keys onto the table and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Today was such a long day at work," he whined.

You kissed his cheek. "Aw, is my baby tired?" you cooed, to which he nodded and began smothering you with kisses.

"Well, I hope you're not tired of blowing out some candles." You handed him the small birthday cake adorned with pictures of his face. Satoru's eyes immediately lit up. "You did this all for me?" he exclaimed in pleasant surprise.

"Well, I know it doesn't compare to what Shoko and the kids did, but..." you started to say.

Satoru immediately cut you off, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "But it's perfect. No comparison needed. This is the best surprise, and it's all from you." He pulled you into a tight hug, expressing his gratitude and affection.

"I can't believe you went through all this trouble for me. You really know how to make a birthday special." Satoru continued, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"Come on, let's have some cake before I start crying from how sweet you are," Satoru teased, leading you over to the table.

As you both enjoyed the cake, adorned with those little memories on sticks, Satoru couldn't help but comment on each photo. "Ah, high school me, can't believe you found these. And look at Megumi's grumpy face, classic!" His laughter filled the room, creating an atmosphere of joy and celebration.

As the evening unfolded, you exchanged stories, shared laughs, and basked in the warmth of the moment. It might not have been as elaborate as previous celebrations, but the personal touch made it uniquely special. Satoru couldn't stop expressing his gratitude, making you feel that all the effort was more than worth it.

"There's one more thing," you said, leaving the table briefly and returning with a bag. "It's not the best, but..."

You handed him the bag, and as Satoru peeked inside, he found a red scarf carefully knitted by you. His eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across his face as he ran his fingers over the soft fabric.

"Did you make this?" he asked, with admiration in his voice. The warmth in his eyes showed just how much he appreciated the thoughtful gesture. "I love it, thank you." He wrapped it around his neck, a cozy addition to the perfect birthday surprise you had prepared for him.

The seventh of December. A date to remember, a date that will go down in history. This is because it was the day Gojo Satoru was born. Born into the renowned Gojo clan, he is the first in 400 years to possess both the Limitless and Six Eyes. However, that’s all they ever celebrated about. The seventh of December was the day the strongest sorcerer alive was born. Not merely Satoru's birthday, and he despised that. He loathed how his powers and name were incessantly brought up, dominating every conversation, overshadowing his personality and achievements. All his life, he hated his birthday except on three occasions.

The first occasion was when Suguru surprised him with his friends. The second was when the kids, Megumi and Tsumiki, brought a touch of innocence and joy to the day, making it about connection and family.

And now, as the day came to a close, the third occasion unfolded. You, with your thoughtful surprises and genuine affection, turned a day usually marked by the weight of power into a celebration of love and connection. Satoru found something he hadn't expected — a day to cherish, not for his abilities, but for the people who chose to celebrate him simply for being him. Satoru no longer hates his birthday, and he looks forward to his upcoming birthdays.

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hemmingsleclerc · 1 year ago

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New Year's Day ┃Timothée Chalamet

summary: where timothee spends new year's day with his girlfriend's family and he may not understand their traditions but he still enjoys the night

timothee chalamet x mexican!reader

''5..4..3..2..1 and!''

''Happy New Year!''

As soon as I heard the first fireworks in the sky I started eating the 12 grapes I had in my glass.All my other relatives at the table began to do the same, from the oldest to my little cousins. At some point I felt like I was about to choke and lose consciousness, but I wasn't willing to let any of my wishes come true.

I looked to my side and saw Timmy eating his third grape. He chewed calmly, enjoying the sweet taste of the fruit and at times I saw how he stifled a laugh when he saw me so desperate. I nudged him lightly with my elbow and motioned for him to hurry up.

''What?'', he asked, showing confusion on his face.

I had to swallow what was in my mouth to be able to answer him.

''You have to eat them quickly Timmy, if you continue like this it won't work and your wishes won't come true!'', I said

''I don't think I have any idea what I was supposed to be wishing for, anyways, why do it so quickly?''

''For more excitement''

When I finished the last grape, I thought about it a little, I didn't really remember what I had wished for but I was sure that among my 12 wishes was happiness, health and love. Everything happened so fast that I barely had time to think about other things to ask for. My brother and cousins had also finished their grapes and ran to the door where there were some suitcases and ran out. Timothée, still in his place at the table, watched everything with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as he continued eating.

''I thought they would spend the night here! Where did they go?''

''They will be back soon, don't worry, the block is not that big, they just went out for a little run'' I said

''¿What?¿For what?''

''To travel, silly!'' I exclaimed excitedly ''You have to run around the block with a suitcase, it is said that it is to attract luck to be able to travel a lot during the year''

Timothée stood there in silence as he slowly began to make a surprised face processing everything his girlfriend had said. He watched everything attentively and with a sparkle in his eyes, excited to be able to participate in the ''curious'' traditions.

This year, I thought it would be a great idea for Timothée to spend the New Year with my family since we had spent the previous year with his family, and I also thought it would be fun for him to know the rituals we did every year on New Year's Eve.

''That doesn't make sense at all''

''I know! It doesn't have to!''

When my cousins arrived I went to chat with them a little about how the race had been. Meanwhile Timmy started talking to my father when I saw my uncles carrying ''the old''.

''Oh my god Timmy you're going to love this'' I took him by the hand and ran to where my whole family was gathered.

Before it started I went to get a pencil and paper for both of us while Timothée returned to get his drink.

''Ready? you have to write down everything bad about the year'' I told him while I took a drink from his glass

''For what? What will you do with that?'' he asked while looking for a place to lean on and write, but since there wasn't one nearby, he stood behind me and leaned on my back while holding his glass in his mouth.

''Do you see that doll that is there?'' I pointed ''It is supposed to represent the old year, it is made of different things like cardboard, and it is set on fire but first we put all the papers with everything bad that happend through the year so that it doesn't repeat''

''They set it on fire? Is that safe?''

It's probably not the safest thing but I may not tell him that.

''Relax Timmy, we do this every year, did you finish writing?''

He nodded and handed me the paper, I folded it along with mine and put it between the doll before my uncle set it on fire. I returned to Timmy and stood in front of him while he hugged me and rested his head on mine.

''Did you had fun babe?''

''I have to admit it was a little strange but it was a lot of fun, we should do some of these things next year together with my family, I bet it would be fun to run down the street with suitcases with Pauline.''

I nodded as I turned to kiss him, I was sure that next year would be just as fun as this one.

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6xillaa · 5 months ago

Note

If requests is still up then - Can you please do a kenji sato x best friend/ extrovert x introvert relationship. Where kenji likes showing off , reader is reserved. And like a balanced relation?!🙏

Kenji x !introverted bestfriend reader

my requests are open dw! actually this is my first ever ask, so idrk how i'll do- but i think i got what u wanted correctly? (pls tell me if im wrong) also, as usual i dont proof read so mind my mistakes! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

cw: ken sato x gender neutral reader, relatively sfw, introverted reader, (pre-relationship) best friend reader, reader is a pessimist, ken is aggresively kind (kinda)

-bestfriend! kenji who aggresively shakes you while holding your arm. "y/n!" kenji yells excitedly, this made you drop your book, bending its pages. "oh my- what do you want ji?" you grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "you~" he flirted while smirking.

-bestfriend! kenji who gets a flick in the middle of his forehead. "you made me drop my book." who'd rub the spot with a pout playing on his lips. "that hurttt" he whined. "and what do you want me to do about it?" youd query, picking up your book tryying to find the page. "a kiss to make the pain go away?"hed smile.

-bestfriend! kenji who's smile would grow wider once he felt your soft lift press against his head briefly. "thank you!" hed drag out before swinging an arm pver your shoulder to bring you closer. you know, regular friend things.

-bestfriend! kenji who always forces you out of your comfort zone by dragging you to events such as concerts, parades, festivals and most recently the movies. the movies where hed buy everything for you both, eat an absurd amount of snacks you both knew would make his tummy hurt and yet he still did. putting on a mask to not draw any unwanted attention to you both. forcing you to watch horror movies with him that had an excessive amount of blood and nightmare fuel, making you cling onto his arm whenever itd make you jump. not that he minded. of course he wouldnt mind, he never did when it was you.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd rent out the entire theater if you really didnt want to interact with anyone. youd always try to discourag him from doing so, saying he shouldnt spend a lot of money on you, but he always says its fine. he loves to show off his wealth to you, and he also loves to spoil you. buyinng you gifts and practically anything you wanted. just say the word and youll have it. perks of having rich baseball players as a (sadly) best friend.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd drag you into various fancy stores that someone of your working class would have no idea about just so you could rate the things hed grab. "does this shirt look good on me?" hed ask, as if he could look bad in anything. and youd nod, a slight warmness in your cheeks when youd watch him change in and out of each shirt. trying your best to not stare.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd lay his head on yours or on your shoulder after a tiring game. only wanting to sleep. and you didnt mind, just ruffling his hair and enjoying the company of your friend. all while ignoring the little voices in your friend that were desperately trying to change the word friend into something else.

-bestfriend! kenji who promises to always be by your side in larger crowds. tuggling you close enough so that you felt the warmth generating off of his body. you especially liked this warmth during the winter, he was like your own personal fireplce wrapped in a ball of cuteness and a ribbon of sarcasm.

-bestfriend! kenji who you may or may not have feelings for. the same kenji who just asked you out on a date.

(i hope i didnt dissapoint, ty again for submitting an ask, i hope i did u justice!)

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman ken sato #gender neutral y/n #ken sato imagines #ultraman #ultraman rising #kenji sato #x reader

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manicpixiedreamedwins · 4 months ago

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Another tiny cameo snippet for anyone else going through withdrawal lol. I don’t think George can talk about this so he just redirected the question back to me (I tried to be like… speculative about the characters’ wants and motivations but I think I hit a little too close to something spoiler-y?). He’ll never see this since he’s not on social media, so I’m going to scream excitedly with you all about this:

1.) PAYNELAND IN SEASON 2?? GEORGE WHAT DO YOU KNOW (I KNOW YOU KNOW)?

2.) Okay. Here’s what I think based on everything we’ve learned this week:

We know Edwin is afraid of abandonment and he wants to feel safe. He’s also afraid that Charles is inevitably going to leave him eventually up until after the Hell rescue. That being said, I sometimes wonder if he tried to make the confession somewhat unobtrusive by telling Charles he didn’t have to feel the same. He even apologizes for telling him his feelings on the roof.

So what do I think he’d like in an ideal scenario? I think he would earnestly like if Charles, one day, could return his feelings after he figures everything out. But Edwin probably won’t push or pressure Charles, because we know he’s afraid of pushing Charles away. Confessing at all was a big risk for him. I think he’s stuck between knowing how he wants things to go, but not wanting to ruin the relative stability that they just got back since going home and having Charles accept him. The ball is in now in Charles’ court.

Edwin is such a complex character and I love him for that. (Also I miss George but I’m so glad he sets strong limits on how much he interacts with the screen and just social media in general. I’m glad he got to know we love the show, and had a successful cameo).

#dead boy detectives #george rexstrew #I’ll miss George #My posts

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dovveri · 3 months ago

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dancing with your ghost

synopsis: you and momo are brought up in an era of war. you’re taught to fight, and the time has come for you to put those skills to use.

warnings: needles, medieval fighting, death, torture, orphans, weapons, swearing, period mentions, suicide, blood

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hi hey giggle feeling a little more emo than usual… this was originally birthed from black clover mars and fana 🫶 enjoy i love a good tragic lovers tale but i hate that i wrote it medievally bcs i think medieval is rly hard to do well but wtv i like writijg swords more than i like writing guns

𐃈

"what's your name?"

you look up curiously under your eyelashes, it's a girl that looks around the same age as you, she's wearing a shirt too big for her, going past her knees, scars dot the skin that's exposed, but she wears a smile, she's not threatening, just curious.

"y/n."

"nice to meet you y/n. i'm momo."

"momo." you test it out, rolling it on your tongue.

she nods happily, plopping down next to you, not minding the hay that pricks into her skin, used to it.

"where did they get you from?"

the reminder makes you tear up, and you’re back to scrunching yourself up in a little ball, covering your head and crying into your knees.

"woah hey! i'm sorry."

you sniffle, still unable to stop the tears, but then momo's tiny arms are wrapped around you, brushing through your hair, trying to calm you.

"it's okay. you're safe now." she repeats, over and over, until your sobs start to subside.

you blink up again, looking at her furrowed brows and concerned expression, "i'm sorry."

"why?" she looks surprised, cupping your face with her hands now that you're looking at her. her hands are rough, you can feel the cuts along them, the scrapes and damaged skin, but it grounds you.

"no-one left..."

she nods sympathetically, dropping her hands, "me too."

"you too?"

"dead."

"i'm sorry."

she shakes her head, "long time now."

"how long?"

momo thinks for a little, taking her stubby little fingers out to count slowly. "3 years ago. i'm 10 now."

"i'm 10 too."

"really?!" momo looks back up at you excitedly, grasping your hands in hers.

you nod, smiling for the first time since you were captured.

"yay! all the others are old. they don't like to play with me." she frowns, hands tightening around yours for a second, "will you play with me?"

you nod again, and she beams, "we're not alone anymore!"

you take the opportunity to have a look around. it's a relatively big room, you can make out mounds of hay, likely used to sleep on, there are other kids milling about as well, in a similar state of dress to momo.

"where are we?"

momo perks up, "the castle! we are special kids. chosen ones. that's what they tell us. they're going to train us to become secret weapons of the kingdom. it's good! they give us a home. and we repay them by training our best."

you frown, "but i don't want to be a weapon. i want to go home."

momo loses her smile, looking uneasy, fiddling with her fingers. "there's... there's no home to go back to."

"what do you mean?"

"they took you away right? that means... we are all orphans." she points to the other kids around the room. "all of our homes were destroyed. this is the only place that would take us in."

"w-what?"

"i'm sorry."

"that can't be true."

"i'm sorry."

"stop apologising! you're lying!"

momo looks shocked at your outbreak, shrinking back into herself, looking even smaller in the shirt 5 times too big for her. but you practically can't see her, only seeing images of your hometown flashing through your head, your parents, your school, your friends, your toys at home.

you don't realise you're hurting yourself and screaming until two guards come in, hoisting you up and ripping your arms away from yourself. momo's watching on with tears, unable to do anything while you thrash around in their arms, carried out of the room shrieking and crying, in disbelief of the situation you found yourself in.

𐃈

when you wake up again, you're lying on top of a heap of hay, wearing a similar oversized shirt that you had saw momo in. there's also a faint pain in the back of your neck, but there's no mirrors for you to see if there was anything wrong.

"y/n?"

you look up from your own pitiful state, seeing momo with wide eyes, holding a tray of food. she's a lot more cautious than the first time you met, not wanting to aggravate or send you into one of your tantrums again. she steps closer slowly, making sure you can see her every movement.

your mouth waters at the food in her hands, stomach grumbling.

she hears it and tries to conceal a smile. she holds it out, carefully sliding it forward.

you dig in immediately, gulping down a glass of water and reaching for the bread.

"are you... okay?"

you grunt, mouth still full of food.

"did they hurt you?"

you pause, returning your attention to her, "don't re-mber." you mumble out through your food.

momo looks behind her, then side to side, as if checking if anyone was listening. then she comes forward in a rush, whispering, "you can't do that again y/n. they don't like it."

you frown, swallowing, "what do you mean?"

"we have to do what they say. or else they'll hurt us."

"have they hurt you before?"

she turns around, parting her hair.

you gasp, staring at the little blinking blue dot embedded in the back of her neck, your hand automatically goes to your own neck, feeling the lump that wasn't there before.

"it's a tracker. so they know where we are at all times. because they're training us to be secret weapons, if get kidnapped or the kingdom's enemies try and use us for ransom, they can remotely activate this and fry our brains. we'll essentially be vegetables after that."

"how... how do you know all this?"

she turns back around, putting her hair back in place, "my friend. it happened to her. she came back from her first mission... different. she wouldn't tell me what happened. but right before they... fried her... she told me everything she could, like she knew they were going to get rid of her the next day."

"but you said... you said it was good they took us in."

momo hisses, "i lied. they were watching you. waiting for you to mess up so they could put the tracker in you."

"why- why are you telling me all this?"

she stands back solemnly, staring at her feet, you remember she was the same age as you, only 10 years old.

"it's only going to get worse from here. and... you're the same as me."

you stare at her, studying her, you'd taken her for a naïve little girl, still innocent despite the horrors she's been through. you'd hoped she was because that meant you could keep your humanity too. when she meets your eyes again, hers are fierce, there's a fire within them, an anger no one else could understand.

"...thank you for telling me."

all of a sudden she melts, and she's back to the girl you first met, clumsy and caring, but you can't unsee the wrath the world placed in a little 10 year old body.

𐃈

it's not surprising that you stick to momo over the next few years. all the older kids don't pay you any mind, and it seems you were the last one brought in, so there's no one younger than you. there's about 20 of you in total. there were 30 in the beginning but some were sent on missions and never seen again, and others died during training. eventually, when you all get too big to fit in the same little barnyard, they move you into the unused dungeons under the castle. you were all kept a secret from the majority of the castle population. at least when you lived in the barnyard you could see the sky, it's been 4 years since you'd last seen sunlight.

you're changing your bandages when one of the older kids runs in, frantic.

"it's momo."

you're up in seconds, running towards the makeshift training arena where you knew momo was sparring with one of the instructors.

you push past all the people straining to get a look, jumping up onto the platformed sparring arena and rushing to momo who's on the floor, gritting her teeth and clutching her stomach.

"what happened?" you get straight to business, gently moving her arms and lifting her shirt to survey the damage.

"she's fucking weak is what happened." the instructor above you spits.

you ignore him, grabbing the first aid kit in the corner of the sparring arena and cleaning the wound. it's a lot deeper than you thought it'd be.

the crowd has gotten bigger. it was normal for them to pit you against knights or prisoners of war, they were more experienced, bigger, dangerous. and now they were circling the sparring arena cheering on the instructor who is spewing nonsense about strength and integrity.

momo had picked a fight with one of the knights who had bullied you last week, he had stolen your rations and dumped them down the feces chutes. momo forced him to go retrieve it, pushing him down the chute and making him dig through the entire castle's feces to find your food, and then she made him eat it.

his captain found out, the one who was in charge of weapons training. the one who just now stabbed momo in the stomach under the pretense of sparring despite explicit orders that you and the other kingdom's 'weapons' weren't to be maimed.

when you finish cleaning and bandaging her wound, you stand up, kicking off the weapons in the arena, then face him head-on. he's taller than you, much more built too, he's got a nasty scar on the bridge of his nose.

he laughs when he sees you, puny and pathetic.

"you wanna fight little one?"

"n-no." momo tries to stop you, her voice is still laced with pain, trying her best not to cry in front of the crowd.

you step forward, chest to chest with him, "you lecture us about integrity but you fought someone half your size with a blade as long as her torso."

he scoffs, "the battlefield won't care about how big you are. that's the problem with you women, you think because you've been born weaker that everyone needs to cater to you. guess what? the real world doesn't care. i guess you wouldn't know that though because you've been cooped up in here all your life huh?"

"and how many women have you spoken to in order to make that assumption?"

he snarls, "more than you."

"that's not a great comparison considering i've only known the same 19 people my whole life. 5 of us who are women."

"fine. enough that i couldn't count them right now and give you a number."

you don't hesitate when your hand darts out and grabs his dick, yanking downwards so he levels with your eyesight, your grip squeezing the flesh tight enough he goes rigid with pain. "you won't mind if you lose this then right? the real world doesn't care after all. you should still be as strong as you were no?"

"you fucking bitch-"

you yank on it again, hard enough that he's toppling forward onto you, but then you bring your knee back up, using his downward force to launch your knee into his nuts, ducking out of the way before he keels over.

"that was fair wasn't it? not my fault you were born with a weak spot right between your legs."

he roars, stumbling around and clumsily throwing a fist your way while holding his testicles. you dodge easily, sending a kick into his side.

"i thought you said women were born weaker? does the fact that i'm beating you right now mean that you're weaker than a woman?"

he tries again, lumbering towards you with both hands this time, reaching for your neck. you easily maneuver around him, letting his own momentum send him crashing into the ground.

"enough!"

everyone in the room quietens down. they part like the red river as a tall, lanky man dressed in the royal colours strides towards you, stepping up onto the platform.

the captain immediately bows his head, shuffling backwards and trying to minimise his presence. you huff, standing in front of momo, prepared to take on anyone that wanted to mess with either of you.

the man tuts, slinking forward until he's cupping your face.

you rip it out of his hands aggressively, choosing to stare at the captain still cradling his balls.

"y/n."

you don't answer.

then he pulls something out of his pocket. your eyes widen, a cold sweat building up.

he notices immediately, smirking, "good girl."

you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to look up at him. he stares down at you, eerie eyes and perfect white teeth. thumbing the little remote control he has in his hand that controlled all of the trackers in your necks. then he turns, addressing the crowd.

"it seems like all our weapons are here. please step forward my children."

the other kids hesitantly clamber up onto the platform, all eyeing the remote he has in his hand. they had upgraded it a few years ago, could now use it to torture you if you acted against them. they realised the threat of rendering you brain dead wasn’t enough as you grew older, they needed you to experience real pain, for you to know they had total control over your minds, your bodies, that you were their property.

"good. i have an exciting announcement to make. there's talks of a treaty being formed between all the kingdoms, it means no more wars, no more innocent lives lost, freedom."

there's murmuring in the crowd of knights, shuffling around, unsure.

"there's a price though. as there is a price for all things. this new world needs a leader. and each kingdom wants to be its leader. the kings have agreed on one way to decide this leader. each will submit one team of 2 fighters to represent them, the winning team will gain this leadership title for their kingdom."

"what does this have to do with us?" someone from the crowd yells.

the man shushes them quickly, waving a hand and having the person who interrupted him escorted out loudly.

"before i was so rudely interrupted... this team will be selected from our secret stash of weapons we have here. other kingdoms already have data from spies inside our kingdom about our regular knights, but they won't know about you."

he turns and smirks at you, "so we're going to be making a big spectacle of this, and the 20 of you, will be fighting it out to get a chance to be that duo in a qualifying round 2 weeks from now."

there's silence.

he makes up for it by clapping, "hooray! isn't that wonderful? you'll finally get to do something with your lives!"

if he wasn't the advisor to the king he'd be dead on the floor now, your hands dripping with his blood. but he was, so he practically prances away, his hoard of guards following him. when he's out of the room, everyone starts talking at once, knights complaining about how they wish they could represent the kingdom, some congratulating us, some spitting at us. you don't pay them any mind, turning back down to lift momo up.

"i can walk."

you frown, supporting her on one side, only for her to almost fall over.

"just let me carry you idiot."

she purses her lips, thinks for a little, "help me walk until the rooms. i don't want everyone to see i'm weak."

you sigh, grabbing onto her waist and slowly inching forwards.

"hey!"

you ignore the captain behind you.

"i'm talking to you bitch!"

he tries to yank your shoulder back but you shrug him off, hoisting momo down where one of the older kids is waiting to help her.

"you not had enough big guy?"

he flinches when you turn, it's pathetic. but then he regains his confidence, standing tall again, "i don't need to fight you. you'll die in those qualifiers anyway. i'll be betting against you."

"then be prepared to lose your money."

you don't let him speak again, hopping down to wrap momo's arm around your shoulder, hobbling away as fast as her injury allows.

when you finally get back, you take her shirt off fully, removing the rushed bandage job you did and beginning to clean it properly with the rubbing alcohol you have hidden under the stone tiles of your shared room.

she hisses at the first touch, but you slap her hand away, focused on cleaning the wound perfectly. 2 weeks wouldn't be enough for it to heal before she has to fight again.

"you shouldn't have done that." she squeezes out.

"why not?"

"he's not going to go easy on you in weapons training tomorrow."

you scoff, "what's the point of even going to those classes anymore? we're all going to die in 2 weeks. and they need to make a big spectacle out of it so it's not like they’re going to prematurely kill us. these trackers are empty threats. at least for now."

"you're not going to die y/n."

you finally look up at her, she's wearing the same look she had when she first warned you about them, about the evils in the world you lived in.

you go back to dabbing at her wound "neither will you then."

momo groans heavily, "don't do that."

"do what?"

"try and protect me."

"that's what you've done my whole life."

"but that's because-" she pauses, wincing as you finish cleaning her up, grabbing the needle and stitching thread.

"because what?"

"you know..." she mumbles, hissing again when the needle enters her skin.

"i don't."

she's silent, watching you piece her back together like you have so many times in the past. once you're done stitching her up, you grab fresh bandages, tying her up again. and then you hesitate, but you're leaning down before you know it, kissing the bandaged patch of skin softly.

"y/n..." momo breathes out.

you stand back up, going to the bathroom to wash your hands. you hear her struggling to get out of bed and follow you, ultimately only succeeding in pushing herself up into a seated position. you sigh, grabbing a clean washcloth and putting it under some water, heading back into the room to start wiping her face, then body. you're not shy with each other, you've been together for almost 10 years now, half your lives. you've seen each other in every state of undress, been through every life stage together, had your first periods, first kisses, first times with each other.

she normally is more stubborn in letting you clean up after her, claiming she can do everything herself but always ending up needing your help, but this time, with the news fresh on both your minds, she's too tired to argue.

by the time you're done and you've curled up in bed next to her, squeezed together on the little single you've shared since you were 16 and moved out of the barnyard, her eyes are drooping and her breathing is laboured with fatigue and maybe also from blood loss.

you're careful not to aggravate her new wounds, wrapping an arm around her hips, a little lower than normal, nuzzling into her shoulder.

you think she’s fallen asleep, but after some time, she speaks up, “i would’ve won.”

you snort, “against the captain?”

“yeah.”

“you were on the floor bleeding out.”

“he cheated.”

“oh really?” your voice is sarcastic, you look up at her from your spot in her neck, suppressing your laughter at the determined look on her face, a little crease between her eyebrows visible.

“yeah. it was only meant to be sword to sword. he had a second dagger up his sleeve. that’s what really got me.”

you trace her hip lightly, humming.

“you believe me right?” she looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

you giggle, caressing her chin, “yes i do momo.”

“good.” she huffs, looking away to stare at the ceiling again.

you stare at her profile, her full lips, a little chapped, the tiny scar right under her right ear from when you were forced to spar one another and she made you cut her so that the fight could end quicker, the slant of her nose. if you knew what love was, you’d probably love momo.

“i was serious you know. you’re not dying.”

“i was too. if i don’t die than you don’t either. we’ll both get through.”

she sighs, hand coming to rest on the back of your head, “you know that’s not likely. we’re the youngest. all the others have more experience, most have actually been on missions, if we work together than at least one of us can get through. and it’s going to be you.”

you’re quiet, still studying her face. you knew she was too stubborn to change her mind after it’s made, there was no use arguing with her.

“do you remember that time we snuck upstairs and saw all those people and heard… music?”

she smiles, “it was so interesting. seeing people have fun like that. what did they call it? dancing?”

“dancing.”

“they seemed so carefree. like they didn’t know war was going on outside the walls.”

“there was no point to what they were doing. just moving around, there was no productive purpose. it was so different to everything we’ve been taught.”

momo hums, “i’d like to try it one day. maybe when the war is over. when we can afford to be that relaxed and let our bodies go, listen to music and laugh and dance.”

“what if you suck?”

momo looks down at you in abhorrence “i would not!”

“what if you don’t know how to listen to music and you trip and fall in front of everyone?”

“i’d be amazing. people would be lining up to dance with me.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes at her.

“i’d save the first one for you though.”

you almost didn’t catch it.

you inhale in her neck, taking in her scent, “no thanks. i don’t want to trip over your clumsy feet.”

momo whines, slapping you lightly while you laugh again, curling into her even more.

she was the only one who could make you laugh, who brought joy back into your life after your family was killed. as far as you were concerned, she was the only important thing left in your life worth fighting for.

𐃈

you were right. you decided to stay in with momo over the next fortnight, and no one came and bothered you about it. none of your instructors, none of the other kids, though you could understand that, you were expected to kill each other all very soon anyway, it was best to eliminate as much connection as possible before the battle.

you tended to momo's injuries, only leaving your room to grab your rations and steal some more medical supplies. on the third day, she's able to walk around again against your better judgement, and by the fifth, she's asking you to spar with her to practice before the fighting.

you're only convinced after she promises to tell you if anything hurts too much, and to eat half of your rations so that she could get stronger in less time.

she's basically back in shape at the end of the fortnight, although she's made it known she plans on protecting you once the fighting starts, you've secretly told yourself you'll be the one watching out for her.

"they're loud aren't they?"

"it'll be the first time we'll have seen normal people since... i don't even remember how long ago."

"yeah. the first time we'll see the sun too. or not if it rains. god remember how it felt when it rained? how it sounded?"

you try and block out the other kids milling about the waiting room, it was you or them, you couldn't humanise them, couldn't listen to them talk about their struggles, it'd just make it that much harder to kill them.

there's a tap on your shoulder.

you look up, seeing momo smiling, donned up in the light armour they've provided that only covers your chest and back. she sits next to you, your hands just barely touching.

"you ready?"

you grunt, not bothering to give a proper response.

"that good huh?"

you shoot her a look, rolling your eyes.

"chill. i got your back."

"that's exactly why i'm not excited for this." you grumble.

momo frowns, you had kept most of your complaints to yourself, but now that you were minutes away from actually having to start fighting for your life, you were a little less filtered.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"i wish you'd let me protect you too."

"y/n..."

"it's fine. i get it. it's whatever, just focus on not getting yourself killed momo." you start to stand, not being able to sit so close to her knowing that you might not be able to see her again, but she pulls on your hand.

you sigh, only weak for her.

"just promise me you'll try. if you- if you die because of me i don't know how i can keep living knowing that." you say softly, still refusing to look her in the eye.

you feel her standing, and then she's wrapping her arms around your midriff, sneaking inside your armour to hold you. you tense up immediately, aware of how this must look. you'd kept whatever you were a secret from everyone else, afraid they'd use your relationship against you, but you were minutes away from possibly never seeing her again, so you throw caution to the wind, letting her hug you.

"i promise. but if you win and i don't-"

"don't say that."

she ignores you, "if you win and i don't, i want you to keep surviving. can you promise me that?"

you sigh, leaning back against her slightly, reveling in the closeness for possibly the last time. "... i promise."

and before you know it, you're being herded out, hot sun beating down on your patchy, grimy faces, bloodlust and screaming oozing from the crowd in the colosseum. you wondered if they knew what you'd been through. who you were. or if they just thought you were another run of the mill knight squad that was chosen to represent the kingdom. you don't have that much time to think over such useless thoughts though, because a loud horn is being sounded and the fighting begins.

𐃈

you whip into action immediately, lurching for the closest weapon you see. unfortunately, one of the other kids has the same idea, and now you're both tugging on the ends of a spear.

the pointed end is facing the other kid though, so you pull for a little, and then when you're sure he's pulling with as much strength as he can, you charge forward, impaling him, then yanking it back out, whipping the spear around in a circle around you to quickly get a grasp of your surroundings while creating a perimeter where no one could attack.

the blood is bright red on the end of your spear, and you cringe a little, suddenly recalling all the memories you had with the boy, sammy, 3 years older than you and momo, the one who helped momo down from the platformed sparring arena 2 weeks ago, dead.

you spot momo a few meters away, also engaged in a fight with one of the older boys, alex, 6 years older than you, split his rations with you when you were punished that time for showing up late to training. momo cuts him down with her sword. dead.

she looks around hurriedly, assessing the situation. you catch her eye very briefly before someone's charging at you with a battering shield. you use the long end of your spear to hoist yourself up and over them like a javelin, letting their heavy shield carry them forward, unable to change direction. you land on both your feet, quickly turning around and stabbing them in the back, yanking back out. han, 4 years older than you, your first ever sparring partner. dead.

you catch sight of an arrow whizzing past your head, straight in momo's direction.

you know momo can dodge it, so you follow the direction from where it was shot from, quickly running forward while he's distracted nocking another arrow in, swinging your spear so it whacks him in the side. he drops the bow and arrow in pain, and before he can put his hand out to defend himself, you're thrusting the spear straight through his neck, blood spurting out and colouring your silver breastplate. robin, 4 years older than you, taught you how to read, dead.

the adrenaline is running, you don't have time to mourn, only to find the next victim before they find you.

eventually, you find yourself back to back with momo, covering each other's blind spots while you fight in perfect harmony. the others knew you were close, they probably didn't know you had practiced dueling for more hours than you'd slept. you knew each other like you knew the sun rose every day.

you've been able to completely block out the cheering and the spectators, only focused on surviving. they'd underestimated the two of you. the youngest, the least experienced, but the ones that spent the most time together, the ones that corrected each other's every weakness in the training field while the older kids were out on missions or stakeouts where they couldn't hone their skills. every second counted. and they realised that now as they lost their lives one by one.

it's down to five of you. no, four, momo just stabbed through kim, the oldest girl, the one who taught you both what to do when you first started bleeding between your legs, dead.

the last two boys are the ones you'd thought would win. the eldest, leo, and his brother, kenny. they were orphaned together, and have spent just as much, if not more time together training as you and momo have. your breathing is coming in a lot harder now, huffing with effort, you're honestly grateful you and momo have survived for this long.

then they're running at you, swords pointed, ready to strike. you both parry them, the clanging of metal against metal ringing in your ears while you take kenny and momo starts fighting leo.

you push kenny backwards so that you're not in momo's way in case she pulls bigger moves, and so she doesn't have to watch your back in case leo tries to kill you when you're not looking. you no longer have to worry about keeping your eyes everywhere now, because everyone else was dead and momo was keeping leo occupied. so you focused your all into killing kenny.

you'd swapped your spear for a sword earlier on, preferring the larger blade than the distance necessitated accuracy a spear requires. you stab and slice and manage to get him to the edge of the colosseum, almost in the shadows when he finally runs out of space to back up. but he remains persistent, parrying every strike, blocking every advance. it would be a battle of endurance. so you grit your teeth and keep attacking, watching his every movement. it's worth it, because you catch the slightest falter in his back foot, and you take advantage of it immediately, darting forward and ducking under his swipe, forcing him to move his weight onto his back foot which was already placed wrong, so he loses his footing for a second, long enough for you to yank the hilt of his sword towards you, letting it flip up in the air before catching it with your left hand, then sending both through his head with a vicious thrust.

you're heaving, stepping on his breastplate to pull the swords back out, turning on your heel and squinting through the blood and sweat to see momo, still holding her own against leo. they both don't seem to notice you've won, so you bound forwards, grateful for your smaller stature and lighter frame, your footsteps not louder than the crowd or the clashing of metal for them to hear you coming.

you catch momo's eye very briefly, a signal flashing between you both before she starts advancing more aggressively, pushing leo backwards where you're waiting. you bring both your swords up and in front of his neck, slicing downwards and slitting his throat open. he drops his sword, clutching at his neck and falling to the ground, bleeding out.

you breathe, and breathe, and breathe, huffing, sweating, exhausted, your mind still playing catch up to the physical atrocities you just forced your body into. momo is in a similar state, hair sticking up in funny places where sweat has collected, fresh blood on her cheek and her arms and legs from cuts and wounds of fighting and killing the other 18 people you'd grown up with.

you can't hear the announcer's voice, sounding out around the stadium, announcing your names, the two that would be moving forward. your ears are only slowly starting to take in the cheering that you'd blocked out.

"-know you guys aren't satisfied yet! so we prepared a special surprise too!"

you blink up through your eyelashes, squinting at the announcer in his little podium box above the colosseum.

"there is actually only meant to be one representative from each kingdom! we've watched these two fight side by side, a killing machine but the joke's on them! now they're going to duke it out to find out who really is the strongest of them all! and have the honour of leading our kingdom to victory in the upcoming kingdoms clash!"

it's like time stops. you can feel every heartbeat, every breath coming in and out of your body, every painful blink as you stare at momo, mouth hanging open, swords clutched tightly by your sides.

"mo-"

she doesn't let you finish saying her name, lashing forwards with a yell, swinging her sword down hard. you're barely able to defend yourself, metal finding skin as she cuts your arm when you bring both swords to push against hers. her eyes are overcome with rage, you're not sure if it's at you, or the kingdom, or if she's just been blindsided by all the people she's killed.

you yell out, trying to get her attention, trying to shake some sense into her, parrying off each of her attacks that only get rougher and rougher. your hearing has come back fully now, you can see the laughter, the glee, the bloodlust in each of the citizen's faces. you didn't care if they knew you were slaves or knights from the beginning, the fact that they were finding enjoyment in this was proof of their cruelty enough.

you're distracted, head fuzzy, still playing catch up, still not really understanding that there would only be one person leaving the battlefield today. you keep begging, crying out to her, to the girl who protected you from day 1, who held you as you cried in bed each night missing your parents, who fought people twice your age and size to defend you, who loved you when you thought you'd never feel love again.

she has you on your stomach now, arms pressed behind your back, your swords long forgotten. it would be over soon. she would win. you were okay with that. you protected her. she would live. if you had to die for momo to live, so be it.

you close your eyes, memories of you and momo flashing through your head when there's a searing pain in your neck, she's cut open. you can see momo and you kiss for the first time, curious what it felt like after seeing two of the older kids doing it, you see momo sneaking into the kitchen with you in hand, shoving grubby handfuls of food into the makeshift basket you had weaved together using your old clothes, you see momo cry for the first time, hiding from you under the covers, trying to make herself as small as possible, as quiet as possible, not wanting you to think she was anything but your protector, you see it all.

and then there's a blinding light.

you can hear her too, her voice.

"this isn’t your fault. remember your promise. i love you."

you blink, eyes adjusting, and with horror, you wipe at your eyes, blood smearing across your skin, not your blood. momo coughs up more red bile in your face, smiling still, impaled on top of her own sword that was now somehow in your hands. her eyes are no longer empty, not like they were when she was advancing on you, they were full of life, of love, they were the same eyes that looked at you when you woke up in the morning, the same eyes that watched you when you fell asleep, soft and tender, devoid of the pains you'd experienced.

you scramble upwards, only impaling the sword in her chest deeper, she coughs again.

"momo- no no no you can't- what have you done- oh god-" you cradle her face in your hands, tears leaking out of your eyes, staring down in disbelief at the chunk of metal that went in through her chest and out through her back.

she coughs again, resting her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, still smiling.

"y/n… dance for me." her last words, whispered hoarsely against your lips, before her breathing stops, the only air moving between you is your own heavy breaths, shuddering, crying, sobbing, hugging her lifeless body against yours, wondering how everything could've gone so wrong.

they'll pull her away from you later, when the crowd gets bored watching a little girl grow hysterical over losing the one thing that ever mattered to her.

you'll scream and kick at them, clinging onto momo's dead body, pleading to spend more time with her, to mourn her. but they'll push you down, carrying you away like the first time they carried you away from momo, except this time she wasn't wide-eyed and teary with concern, she was gone.

they'll throw you back in the room you shared with momo, locking you inside while you pounded away at the door, hands bloody, face still spattered with momo's blood.

when you finally accept that no one was coming, you'll slump down, afraid to look around the room that reminded you of her, cradling your head in your hands, knees to your chest. your fingers will brush through your hair like she used to when she thought you were asleep, they'll meet fleshy, wet, skin at the back of your neck when your nails dig harshly into your hair and neck.

you'll blink, confused, inspecting your fingers at the fresh blood that coated them. you'll bring your hand to the back of your neck again, feeling around. the lump was gone.

with wide eyes, you'll realise the stinging pain you felt when you thought you were dying, was momo digging the tracker out of your neck. she had fought you so aggressively on purpose, gotten you on your stomach on purpose, all so she could free you before killing herself, making it look like you had turned the tables, like you had pulled her weapon away from her and stabbed it through her chest.

she freed you.

you were no longer a slave to the kingdom.

you'll purse your lips, resigning yourself to a new goal. you were going to get revenge for everything they'd ever done to you, to momo, to all 30 of the original kids that they orphaned. and you would dance, imagining momo dancing with you. you should've told her you thought she'd be the most brilliant dancer to have ever breathed.

#momo #hirai momo #twice momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo angst #momo imagines #twice imagines #twice x reader #dovveri

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alessiasfreckles · 9 months ago

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amnesia - part 9 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

a/n: uh-oh. i wonder what's going to happen next?

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You spent the next day and a half avoiding Ona, which was relatively easy, considering she was at training and you were not. On Sunday, though, the team had a game - their first one since you’d woken up that you’d be able to go to. Not only that, but it was Alexia’s first start since her knee surgery, so you were even more determined to go and cheer on your teammates.

When you got to the stadium, you were greeted excitedly by everyone, it being your first real reunion with the team since your accident. Your teammates all hugged you, even Ona, who you gave a small smile to but turned away from quickly. After some words of encouragement, you joined your other injured or non-playing teammates to watch the game.

It was exhilarating to be at the stadium again, and you wished more than anything that it could be you warming up on the pitch, ready to play. Still, even just being there was better than nothing. The first 45 minutes flew by, with goals from Aitana and Salma bringing the team up to 3-0 by half-time.

And then, within minutes of the second half starting, Alexia scored a goal. It was an incredible goal, flying over the head of the keeper before she even had time to register what was happening. Despite your leg and the doctor’s orders to rest as much as possible, you couldn’t help but jump up with your teammates, whooping and cheering for your captain.

The game ended 5-0, with Alexia scoring another goal before being subbed off. She was beaming as she came off the pitch, and you felt something flutter in your chest as she looked up at where you were sitting and grinned at you.

When the whole team went out after to celebrate, you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that it wasn’t just you and Alexia. Still, it felt good to be out with everyone, and the doctor had said you were allowed to have one or two drinks, as long as you were sensible about it.

You wouldn’t have needed more than two anyway - after the first cocktail you already felt decidedly tipsy, the alcohol mixing with the medication you were taking for your leg and making your tolerance much lower than it was normally. You were sipping your second drink, watching your teammates laugh and dance, when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

It was Ona. “How are you doing?” she called over the music.

You shrugged, debating how to respond. She looked really fucking pretty, the lights glowing and bouncing off of her, highlighting the contours of her skin. “I’m good.”

She nodded, looking unsure suddenly, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“You played really well today,” you said, leaning in so she could hear you. “You’re so fast!”

“Thank you,” Ona blushed. “Ale was the star of the show, though.”

You both looked over to where the blonde was dancing with Ingrid and Mapi. “Yeah. She’s so impressive.”

“She really is,” Ona nodded. You hadn’t noticed, but she was watching you watch Alexia now.

“And she’s really pretty,” you added. Okay, so maybe the second drink was hitting you already. “So pretty. You’re really pretty too, you know? You’re pretty in different ways but also the same, because you’re both so pretty.”

Ona’s eyebrows raised in surprise for a second, before she let out a laugh. “You’re really pretty too, amor.”

“I think… I think I did have a crush on Ale. At the start. Maybe I still do, but shh, don’t tell anyone,” you fake-whispered, bringing up your finger to your lips. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because you and me are dating, aren’t we? Even if things are kinda weird right now.”

“We are,” Ona said, and hesitated for a moment, before continuing. “But maybe you should tell her.”

“Tell who?”

“Tell Ale that you find her pretty, that you have a crush on her.”

You frowned, watching Alexia dance. Confusion flashed through your brain, cutting through the alcohol-induced fog. Why would Ona tell you to do that? Ona was supposed to be your girlfriend, why would she want you to tell Alexia about your feelings?

“You know,” Ona said, lips close to your ear. When had she moved that close? “Maybe Ale and I would be a good match? What do you think? You think we’re both pretty, right? Would we look good together?”

“I don’t understand,” you said, frowning. Images of Alexia and Ona together darted before your eyes. You had to admit that they would look amazing together, but jealousy burned in your stomach, and the guilt you felt about picturing them that way tasted acidic on your tongue. “What do you mean? And why should I tell her I think she’s pretty?”

“It doesn’t matter, don’t question it-” Ona started to say, before you angrily cut her off.

“Stop saying things like that! I’m not stupid, I can question things if I want to!” you took a step back, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp.

“No, I just mean-”

“You’re confusing me and I don’t understand why! Ever since I woke up you’ve been acting like I’m a child, like I can’t make decisions for myself, like I’m not smart enough to be told about things, and I fucking hate it!” your voice, filled with the frustration and anger you’d been keeping bottled up inside, cut through the sound of the music. Alexia looked over as she heard it to find you storming out, leaving Ona alone once again.

“Mierda, what did she say this time?” she muttered under her breath as she ran after you. She felt bad for Ona, she knew she’d been through a lot lately, but she had to stop pushing you and treating you like you were a child.

When she caught up to you, you were leant against the wall of the bar, the cool stone calming your temper.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Alexia asked, a worried frown on her face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, biting back the angry thoughts you were having about Ona.

“Okay,” Alexia agreed simply, and you could have kissed her in that moment for not pushing you.

“Actually,” you pushed yourself off the wall. The fact that she wasn’t pushing you was exactly what you needed. “I don’t understand what Ona’s problem is. She keeps saying weird things and acting like I’m an idiot and babying me and I’m sick of it!”

“What things has she been saying?” the captain asked.

“I dunno, weird stuff, like asking me if I think you’re pretty - which I do, obviously, you’re fucking gorgeous,” you rambled, too caught up in your own tirade to notice Alexia’s cheeks reddening. “And, like, I told her about how I had, or have, I don’t know, a crush on you, and now she keeps making weird comments but, like, weird suggestive, when I thought she’d be jealous or annoyed or something? But it kind of feels like she’s just making fun of me for being confused about my feelings and it really sucks!”

“I’m sorry, amor,” the blonde nodded sympathetically, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat at your words.

“And I’m just sick of it! I don’t want her to treat me like this! I’m a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions about my own feelings and I deserve to be treated that way!” you exclaimed loudly. You finally looked over at Alexia, who was watching you intently, all attention focused on you. Your eyes trailed over her face, her eyes, her lips. “You’d treat me like an adult, wouldn’t you, Ale?”

“Of course, amor,” she said, smiling at you warmly, one hand on your waist to steady you.

“Good,” you said, taking a step forward and closing the gap between you. The alcohol gave you a boost of confidence, and in one swift movement, you took hold of her collar and pulled her closer, and kissed her.

Kissing Alexia was different to kissing Ona. Alexia’s lips weren’t as soft as Ona’s, but there was more fire behind the kiss, and as you let out a small gasp she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips, just for a second, leaving you desperate to taste her again. She tasted different to Ona, too-

Fuck. Ona. Your girlfriend. Even if things weren’t great, she was still your girlfriend.

“Shit,” you whispered as you stepped back, one hand over your mouth, as if you were trying to cover up any evidence of what had happened. You looked around to see if any of your teammates had seen, only to be faced with Ona, who was standing just outside the door, mouth ajar, staring at you and Alexia.

“Shit.”

#hannah writes fics #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle fanfic #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfic #ona batlle x alexia putellas #alexia putellas x ona batlle #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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fairydares · 9 months ago

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loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

#cw harassment #tw suicide-baiting #tw hospitalization #posts i actually wrote #fairy tail #nalu #fandom #fandom meta #proship #pro fiction #anti-censorship #fandom wank #profiction

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katelynnwrites · 1 year ago

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I Think Of You (When I Think About Forever) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: mean words

word count: 1430

summary: felicitas is your forever no matter what anyone else says

a/n: requested, part two to You Are In Love (True Love)

‘I’m so in love with you.’ Feli declares.

You giggle, ‘You’re only saying that because I’m giving you a massage.’

‘Not just that. You know it’s not only because of that.’ Your girlfriend complains.

‘I know.’ You promise, kissing the back of her neck.

Felicitas smiles and then in one swift movement, pushes you down onto the bed beside her.

She straddles you and you groan, ‘Feli.’

‘Liebling.’ She mocks and you roll your eyes.

‘I love you.’ The older woman reminds you before bringing her lips down to meet yours.

You melt and your girlfriend makes a pleased noise at the effect she has on you.

She kisses you a few more times and then pulls back just enough to breathe.

Her eyes are sparkling and you can’t help but softly whisper, ‘I never thought I would be doing this here.’

‘Doing what?’ Feli prompts.

‘Kissing the love of my life in the bedroom I grew up in.’

Felicitas laughs, ‘Want to do that again?’

Very eagerly, you pull her close by the collar of her shirt so that you can answer her question.

******

A few hours later and you have reluctantly stopped making out with your girlfriend, in favour of making yourself presentable.

Your parents had decided to host a dinner for all your extended family so that you could spend time with them.

In playing for Wolfsburg, you have missed out on a lot of family time. It bothers you sometimes but you make the trip from Germany to England as often as you can.

This time though, you’ve brought your girlfriend with you.

You pick up on Feli’s anxiety easily, your German girlfriend having changed her outfit three times already.

‘Feli you look stunning. Don’t worry, my parents love you and I’m sure that the rest of my family will too. Honestly, my love relax.’

‘Are you sure?’ She nervously asks.

‘I’m positive. Besides, you’ve already impressed the most important members of my family. Anyone after that is a bonus. Although I will give you extra credit if you get my baby nieces to like you.’

You kiss her reassuringly and after a moment, you feel her smile against your lips.

******

Felicitas proves you right.

Your grandparents welcome her with open arms and your baby nieces adore her.

They chase her around your parents’ backyard and she lets them catch her.

It’s a pile of infectious giggles that you walk up to and your youngest niece raises her arms, asking to be picked up when she sees you approaching.

You do as she asks and your sister’s daughter leans in to conspiratorially whisper, ‘Your girlfriend is cool.’

‘I know she is.’ You tell her just as seriously.

It makes Feli, who is eavesdropping on the whole conversation, laugh.

‘Want Mama now.’ She whines and you chuckle.

You glance over at Felicitas to check if she’s okay to be left alone with your other niece for a while and she nods.

So you take her over to your sister. She kicks her little legs excitedly and then thanks you sweetly when she’s back in her mother’s arms.

Your sister gives you a smile and then your niece starts telling her all about Feli and how she hopes you’re going to marry her.

You blush and excuse yourself quickly, not wanting to be teased by your older sister.

Though you do know that you share the same hope as you make your way back to Felicitas.

******

It’s a lovely night and you’re thankful for the rare chance to see your relatives.

Though your parents have invited more members of your extended family than you had expected.

You’ve seen the cousins you grew up with and the aunts who doted on you as you were doing so.

Even one of your more distant cousins, who you haven’t seen since you were twelve has shown up.

You are having a good time and from the way Feli is laughing with your mother, you think she is too.

You can’t resist going up to her and pressing a kiss against her cheek.

‘Hello liebling.’ She murmurs and you smile.

‘I’m just going to get another water from the fridge and then I’ll be right back. Do you want anything?’

You shake your head with another grin and your girlfriend kisses your forehead before leaving.

Your mother chuckles, having observed the whole interaction.

‘What Mom?’’

‘She’s so taken with you. It’s a mutual feeling I can tell.’

You flush a bright red again and your mother tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

‘To be honest I was a bit worried when you first told me about Felicitas. Now that I’ve met her and seen how in love the both of you are, I’m not at all worried. In fact, I’m so happy for the both of you.’

‘Thanks Mom.’

Feli reappears with her bottle of water then.

You pull her into your side and she instinctively reaches for your hand.

******

Something isn’t right with your girlfriend. She has always had a tendency to be on the quiet side but now she’s unusually so.

You’re worried she is overwhelmed so you take her to your room and sit down beside her. Most of your relatives have left now anyway.

‘What’s wrong love?’

Your girlfriend lets out a shaky breath.

The pair of you are long past trying to hide anything from each other so she quietly begins, ‘I overheard your distant cousin saying some things…’

‘What things?’

‘She um, she said…’

Felicitas squeezes her eyes shut tightly and then recounts what she’d unintentionally heard.

The moment is fresh in her mind.

She’s walking past the living room when she hears your cousin mention her name.

She didn’t mean to pry but she could not stop herself from listening in.

Your cousin is sitting with a few of your other relatives that you had already introduced Feli to earlier.

As Felicitas lingers outside the living room, your cousin says, ‘Look I know that it is accepted for people like my dear cousin to not be with a man now but can’t she at least find a looker? Her girlfriend looks ten years older and those eyebags she has isn’t helping. Doesn’t she sleep?’

Feli chooses not to hear anything else, quickly making her way back to you.

You swear rapidly after your girlfriend relays your cousin’s words to you.

‘I’m okay with whatever others have to say about me. That doesn’t bother me anymore but when they talk about you that way, it hurts.’ Feli barely audibly continues.

‘It has to be hurting you too liebling.’

Your girlfriend worriedly reaches for your hand and then squeezes it with concern.

She makes your heartbeat stutter with just how much love you feel for her.

Here she is, trying to check that you are okay after overhearing one of your family members making rude comments about her.

You shake your head, leaning in close to kiss her with as much reassurance as you can.

‘It doesn’t. My cousin, the one who is talking about our relationship like she knows us? She’s an idiot. She is never going to get it. You’re beautiful Feli, inside and out. You make me so happy, happier than anyone ever has. I love you and I don’t give a shit about what anyone says because I want to be with you. I want to love you like you love me. I’m proud of the love we share.’

Your girlfriend tears up and nods, whispering, ‘I’m proud of the love we share too.’

‘I’m sorry you had to hear those awful things.’

‘It’s alright. Like you said, she doesn’t know either of us and she is an idiot.’

You laugh and kiss your girl lightly.

‘She moved out of the area when we were pretty young but before that, I used to practice my slide tackles on her. That’s probably why she doesn’t like me.’

Felicitas giggles and you kiss her again.

Sharing kisses with Feli will always make the butterflies in your stomach come alive, no matter how many times you do so.

‘Ich liebe dich.’ Feli murmurs and you smile.

‘I love you too.’

******

If later that night, while Feli is in the shower, you walk up to your cousin just as she’s leaving and threaten to make her life unpleasant if she ever says anything bad about your girlfriend again well, Felicitas doesn’t need to know that.

It does give you an immense sense of satisfaction as you cuddle up to sleep beside your girl though.

German Translations:

liebling - love

ich liebe dich - i love you

#posting this with one hand while i feed the kid in my lap her milk with the other 😂#feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #felicitas rauch x reader #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen imagine #dfb frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #katelynnwrites #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader

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wishluc · 2 years ago

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Hello! I’m a bit nervous since I’ve just started following you but! You said your asks are open so I’m giving it a go!

Soft? Yandere Diavolo? With him being all possessive and affectionate of the reader? And reader maybe being okay about it? Them being resigned to all the cuddling and just going “well what can you do?” While Diavolo is snuggling them feeling super euphoric?

I don’t know if I did this right.

If you don’t wanna do it or if this isn’t your style then that’s fine! no need to stress about it you can just delete this ask, it is you blog after all.

Anyways! I hope you have an amazing day. Bye ❤️

Hihi anon!! I really had sooo mcuch fun with this ♡ I'm terribly sorry it took so long to get out!!

There are worse places to be, you think, than in the arms of the future king of the Devildom.

At least you know that Lord Diavolo doesn't wish you any harm, not in the same way that others do. He whispers to you, with a large hand on your cheek and his voice unusually soft, that he'd never hurt you—you don't have it in you to tell him that his love, all his deliberate caresses and fond promises, was the source of your suffering. You couldn't admit that it shattered something inside you when he confessed his feelings, that you felt all your carefully built relationships crumble the moment he announced your relationship to everyone else, and that nothing hurt you more than the searing pain in your heart when it became abundantly clear that you were never leaving the Devildom. ("Your home," Diavolo had announced, "is in the Devildom now. Why would you want to leave?")

Maybe the signs were always there; his constant fascination with you and your world, his persistence that you spend nights at the castle and his barrage of invitations to dinner, taking you out to the Devildom's finest restaurants. You should have noticed how his warm smile dimmed when you went out arm in arm with Asmo and how insistently he kept asking you if you really wanted to stay in HoL after the incident. You foolishly believed that this was him making sure the exchange student was comfortable, and not his growing jealousy of the time the brothers had with you—Time he didn't have to spare. And you were still oblivious, even when the brothers started receiving a suspicious increase in their council duties, when the number of guests at the 'exchange student dinners' with Lord Diavolo dwindled in numbers until only you and him were left together, with Barbatos waiting nearby, and when his somewhat subtle words of affection turned bolder, his delicate compliments becoming audacious, almost, but you stayed silent despite how uncomfortable you felt. After all, this was his domain you were in, and by his kindness that you were able to live in relative comfort.

And when it finally occurred to you just how short the chains he placed on you were, you had long lost any opportunity to leave.

(Though a little part of you was aware that the moment you stumbled into the Devildom, the moment the smallest gleam of interest flickered in Lord Diavolo's eye, your fate had already been sealed.)

You tell yourself that you should be content that he's careful about where his hands linger now, gently wrapping himself around you while placing soft kisses on your skin, instead of excitedly smothering you like he used to do when you first met him. You try to be grateful for the little things—thanks to Barbatos's involvement, Diavolo was a lot more...lenient about how much time you spent with the others, and he had eased up on the extremely extravagant gifts. You can appreciate his sincere feelings, and you should appreciate it—who else can say they have a king wrapped around their finger?

But no amount of reassurance can quell your pounding heart or the instinctive tensing of your body as his hands stroke you in an attempt to ease you into his embrace. He's tried, before, to coax you with cloying, saccharine words, and he still tries it now, but it doesn't work in helping you relax. Every affectionate word only serves to heighten your dread, reminding you of just how serious he was. If he was simply just infatuated with you, fascinated by your unfamiliar manner of speaking and demeanor, you could hold on to the hope that his interest would whittle away, that something newer would catch his attention and you were free to spend the rest of your time in the Devildom in relative peace. But he spoke of love, of how much he adored you and how perfect you were for him, of how much he missed you and with every adoring word and intimate whisper, you could feel the part of you that was hopeful and optimistic dim and wither, until all that was left was a deafening silence and the crushing reality.

You've long tuned him out in the middle of him talking about his day. If it were the you from a few months ago, you would have listened closely to every detail and every happening, but now, from a combination of resentment, indifference and general despair, you could hardly bring yourself to listen.

"If you'd like to try it, we can go next week?" Your mind races for a moment; what was happening next week?

"I can't," you say, "I promised Mammon I'd go with him to a modeling gig."

You can't see him, with him facing your back, but you know he's frowning, the pensive look he always has when he's deep in thought.

"I'm sure Mammon won't mind if you can't make it," he instead says, breaking the developing silence, "I'll compensate him if he loses the job."

You want to shrink in on yourself again, suffocated by doubt once more. Would Mammon really be fine with it? Your relationship with the brothers was already delicate enough as a result of Diavolo's interest in you, and you were hoping the day spent with Mammon would help reassure you that it wasn't all that bad. That things could be salvaged. That you still had someone.

Clearly, Diavolo didn't wish the same.

"I guess that's dealt with, then."

Diavolo moves in closer, his lips pressed against the crook of your neck. The warmth radiating off him is almost uncomfortable now, but you pretend it doesn't bother you as one of his hands goes to find your clasped hands, gently tugging them apart only to grasp your free hand in his.

"I could take care of anything for you," a soft assurance, "you only need to say the word."

You sigh, defeated, "I know."

"I wish you'd ask more of me," he admits, his hand gently squeezing yours, in what you think should be soothing, "you can trust me."

You hum noncommittally.

The air around you seems to get tenser, his chest stiff against your back. He calls out your name softly, sounding almost vulnerable.

"Do I..." He hesitates, but you know the question is on the tip of his tongue, and you brace yourself, "Are you happy, with me?"

It's not the best situation to find yourself in; none of this is. But it isn't the worst. You could be back in the attic, strong hands around your neck, or you could be cowering behind a crumbling wall. You could be hiding in an empty stall, tears of frustration racing down your cheeks.

You bring your intertwined fingers up to your lips to leave a soft kiss, "Yes. I really am."

After all, there are worse places to be, worse fates awaiting you. In comparison, this isn't too unbearable. It's this reminder that keeps you from breaking down yet again, and this reminder that keeps the fake smile on your face later.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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itstimetojellyfish · 6 months ago

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Yo hey I just finished your Misha angst now I'm addicted have you thought about writing for Yanqing platonically because I've got some good angst for that silly lil guy but anyway what about platonic angst for Jing Yuan like say he has a biological kid and they feel like they disappoint him because they aren't fully a long life species but they have a lot of achievements they just don't have like a lot of confidence and they feel that he prefers Yanqing over them bonus points if they are already an adult because they've been carrying that thought all throughout their childhood oh oh don't forget the dead nom

Great! I actually have considered it , but I’ve been on a writers block so this is a great opportunity! Thanks for the plot!

Always in your shadow ( Platonic Yanqing x reader)

Time for some more angst no comfort!

Here we go again..

“General! When will we have our next session?” The blond haired boy sprinted beside your father as he excitedly told him about everything he’s done .

You feel… jealous…

You press your lips together as you watch them talk excitedly, telling each other about battle techniques and chess….

You suppress a sob in your throat as you suddenly grasp your chest , your heart throbbing and clenching painfully.

Wasn’t the General supposed to be your father?..

You had nothing against Yanqing , in fact , you love him as if he was actually your blood brother, you took care of him ever since Jing Yuan brought him in .

However , he’s a teen , and you’re an adult now , and Jing Yuan still hasn’t smiled at you the way he smiled at Yanqing .

You’ve done so many things… fighting Mara-struck , leading his army , doing his desk work unfortunately.

And yet..

Here you are , trailing behind them like a guard while they laugh with each other as if they’re the blood relatives, not you .

You hiccups quietly, suppressing the tears that threaten to fall upon your face , you feel neglected.

You’re no longer that social anymore , because you thought that if you made more connections…

You would finally be useful.

However , you now know what the truth is.

He loves Yanqing.

Your head short circuits when it comes to that conclusion , making you stop suddenly behind them , eyes wide with disbelief.

No… that can’t be true, your father wouldn’t do that! He loves you both equally! He always did , he definitely didn’t host all of Yanqing’s celebrations!

He definitely doesn’t spend more time with Yanqing when he asks ,when you have to literally wait for months to get an appointment!

He definitely doesn’t dote over Yanqing whenever he gets seriously injured while never visiting you !

Oh who are you kidding?

You take a step backwards before running away towards your destination , a lush green field you cultivated yourself .

You now see the signs, ever since Yanqing came into the picture , you’ve been neglected because apparently…

You’re old enough to not depend on another .

You collapse underneath a willow tree and your long sliver hair comes undone , you wish you could tear out your hair .

You wish it was mother’s color , you wish mother was still here , then she would’ve took care of you when your father didn’t .

You wish that your eye color was the same as your mothers , then you’d have something to cling onto .

You wish you had at least one person to cling onto because you’ve been alone since you were 8 .

You…. Wish …. You just wish you had someone that would love you.

As you cry silently beneath the tree , a soft rustling came from your left side , you turn your head and then see a blue sleeve push the leaves aside and a blond head pops through the canopy.

Your eyes immediately dull and cloud up.

He looks at you and then says “ It’s my fault that you look so defeated and worn everyday isn’t it?” His expression has guilt written all over it .

You sigh,” Yanqing , it’s fine . No need to worry , my prime has already passed, just focus on you okay?” You give him a strained smile .

He just stares at you , the tension between you two thick .

In midst of your staring contest, a soft creak can be heard from behind the willow tree , making your head turn , Yanqing steps closer to inspect it , looks at the stem , however , the stem wasn’t the problem.

A Mara-struck had crept up and chopped the tree, making it fall towards you two . Your first reaction was to leave , but Yanqing didn’t realize until it was too late .

Wouldn’t it be easier if he just died?

(No)

Wouldn’t it mean more attention from father?

(More like hatred)

He favors Yanqing , and others don’t like you , so it would be better for everyone , if he survived , so you did what you thought was the most logical reaction.

Push Yanqing away , and get buried underneath the tree , letting the Mara-struck slash at you until Yanqing recovers from the shock.

As soon as you felt the tree bury you underneath it , a loud crack was heard , and your rib cage felt more and more in pain as the Mara-struck stalled towards you.

While you expected Yanqing to at least help you up , he just ran after he pierced the monster .

Was a little bit of help too much to ask for?..

So, you just lay there , sobbing quietly as the pain in your rib age became more and more unbearable, silently wishing for someone to comfort you .

It didn’t take long for you to slowly loose consciousness, the last thing you heard was ,

“ I’m sorry for everything “

#yanqing x reader #yanqing #angst #no comfort #platonic #hsr #honaki star rail #Yanqing HONKAI star rail

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television-overload · 11 months ago

Text

chance encounter

an X-Files Fanfic

Read on AO3

Summary: "Six months after becoming fugitives from the US government, Mulder and Scully have a chance encounter with someone that is very important to them."

Word Count: 6,556

Tag List (let me know if you want taken off or added!): @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @mulderscully @perpetually-weirdening @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

It was him.

There was no way to explain how he knew, but he did.

The little baby sitting in the puddle deep water at the end of the pool was William.

His hands, still chubby like they had been in his infancy, splashed excitedly, and Mulder could hear his squeals of delight over the sounds of the other children playing. An electric yellow swim shirt paired with a dinosaur-patterned bucket hat kept him shielded from the hot California sun, and he wore striped yellow and blue swimming trunks.

Mulder thought he'd never seen a swimsuit so small.

What were the odds that of all the places they could have traveled to, he was here?

They'd been on the road for 6 months, stopping at unremarkable motels and campgrounds all the way, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. It was a fluke they were even here at all.

Perhaps fate.

The hotel was certainly a step up from their usual accommodations, but Mulder had insisted. It was their anniversary, he said. Anniversary of what, Scully wasn't sure. The progression from coworkers to friends to lovers happened so gradually that it was hard to pin down a particularly important date for anything. But he wanted to celebrate, to find a brief reprieve from living in darkness, so they splurged a little on this modest, if slightly run-down, hotel by the ocean.

Where their son and his new family just happened to be vacationing.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this possibility. In those nights where Scully was extra quiet, eager to fall asleep at the end of a long day, of course he'd lay awake and think, what if.

What if we found him? What if we saw our son again? What would we do?

The idea was so far-fetched that he hardly gave it any real consideration. His thoughts ranged from “steal him back, take him with us” to “pretend you never saw him and flee town.”

The urge to do the latter was strong. It was not safe here. They'd given him up for this very reason, what would be the point if their being here got him injured or worse? Was it really worth the risk to William? To Scully?

His next thought was 'Should I tell her?' Should he tell Scully he'd seen him? Would she want to see him too, even if from a distance?

The loss of their son had broken her heart. Broken his too, but not in the same way. She had spent months with him, almost a year, only to be forced to give him away with little time to prepare.

He knew she felt the loss like a phantom limb. Even all these months later, she still awoke with his name on her lips, panic written on her face as she looked around for him. It drove a stake through his heart every time, yet part of him felt he deserved it after leaving her to deal with it herself.

He watched the boy.

He'd only come out here to enjoy the sun, sit on one of the loungers for an hour or so while Scully took a nap in their room. It was a much more comfortable bed than they've had in a long time, though that wasn't saying much.

He hadn't bargained on having his whole world tipped upside down in the short time they were apart.

As stressful as it was, life on the road lended itself to relatively simple decisions. Fast food or canned? Motel or campground? Will you drive, or should I?

This was different.

Should he tell Scully?

The thought of keeping this from her made him feel sick. He couldn't do that.

Then again, would it hurt more to know? Ignorance is bliss, they say.

Mulder had never believed that, though.

The Truth, with a capital T, was the one thing that connected him and Scully. Though their beliefs and methods differed, they valued the Truth above all else. That was what drew them together. That was what propelled them forward, even now.

She had to know. She had to know her son was here, even if knowing might hurt.

She could make the decision for herself, whether she wanted to see him or get as far away from here as possible. It might be the last decision she makes as a mother, who would he be to keep that from her?

She might never forgive him.

Swallowing back emotion, Mulder stood to his feet, trying not to draw attention to himself as he made his retreat. His sunglasses thankfully hid the redness of his eyes, a small mercy in this endlessly unfair life.

He stole one last glance back at William. There was a chance this was the last time he'd ever see his son, his baby boy. If this was it, he'd treasure this moment for the rest of his life.

A woman dropped down beside William, showing him how to cup the water in his hands and throw it.

'A quick learner,' Mulder thought, watching as he gleefully tossed small handfuls of water in the air, giggling as it rained back down on him.

Okay. He could do this.

Find Scully. Tell Scully. Find Scully.

He rushed into the moldy-smelling hallway of the hotel, not bothering to take the elevator up to their floor. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time, finding himself out of breath by the time he reached the 4th floor.

He nodded politely at a passing family decked out in beach gear, not wanting to draw suspicion. Once they were gone, he gave a quick rhythmic knock on the door to let Scully know it was him, then slipped his key card into the slot to unlock it.

The room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight to block out the midday sun, and he could hear soft breaths coming from the lump on the bed.

His heart twisted involuntarily as it so often did when he looked at her.

“Scully,” he whispered, approaching the bed. “Honey, wake up.” He settled on the side of the bed, placing a gentle hand atop her shoulder and jostling her just so.

“Mm,” she hummed, curling into her pillow. A good nap, then. That was nice, at least.

He shook her again, saying her name a little louder. “Scully, you need to get up.”

This time her eyes opened, sensing the serious undertone to his words. He could tell she was waiting for bad news, for him to tell her they needed to leave again. Wanting to put her worries at ease, he tried to smile.

“What is it?” she asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“Uh—” he hadn't gotten this far in planning what to say. But she was waiting for him now, so he needed to say something quick. “Scully, I saw some people outside...”

“Government people?” she asked, sitting up suddenly, ready to start packing.

“No, not the government,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders soothingly. “Scully—it's William.”

He could see the moment his words hit her. She blinked, like she might think she was still dreaming, but she saw the truth in his eyes. Her expression shifted.

He wasn't sure what reaction he expected, but his first guess wouldn't have been anger.

“Did you know he would be here?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal. “Mulder, I told you not to look into it! Why—Why would you...”

“I didn't know,” he promised, begging the tears in his eyes to keep from falling. He clasped her hands in his, pulling them from their grip on the fabric of his shirt. “Scully, I swear I didn't know. I was just out at the pool, and—”

“You're sure it's him?”

His heart broke looking at her. Equal parts hope and dread, she didn't deserve this.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.”

She let out a shuddering breath.

“What do you think about that coincidence, huh?” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

She shook her head.

“Mulder, we can't see him. It's not safe, it's not—”

“I know.” He didn't like interrupting her, but he didn't want her worrying unnecessarily about things she shouldn't. They had enough of that already, these days. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, he’d be okay with that. “We can leave, if you want. I just thought you should know.”

Her blue eyes met his, brimming with unshed tears.

“Is—Is he…?”

“He's beautiful, Scully,” Mulder answered her unspoken question. “He looks happy.”

She choked out a sob, and he immediately enveloped her in his arms, holding onto her tightly. She clutched at him like a life raft, and he ran his hand over her back in comforting circles, murmuring soft words into her ear.

“What do you want to do?” Mulder asked, knowing that time was ticking, and the little family might not stay out there much longer.

Scully sniffed.

“We could—we could go see him,” she said uncertainly, looking at him to decipher his thoughts on the matter. “From a distance.”

Mulder nodded, then stood, helping her to her feet.

“I'm with you,” he reminded her, grasping her hands tightly in his. “It'll be okay.”

With an arm slung around her shoulders, he led her out the door, this time opting to take the elevator down to the ground floor. Scully seemed nervous, almost frightened, and he didn't blame her. He tried to picture how he would feel if their positions were switched, and he couldn't imagine that he'd take it very well. Eventually, they reached the glass doors leading out to the outdoor pool, pausing for a moment.

“They can't see us,” Scully warned, looking anxious and ready to bolt, but she was glued to his side and scarcely able to move without his guidance. He nodded and took her hand, leading her out to a couple chairs in the corner, hopefully obscured enough by the shadow of the fence that they wouldn’t be seen. That bright neon shirt was still there, easy to spot, and Mulder felt tears rising to his throat again. This was the first time they had all three been in the same vicinity since those first few days when he was born.

He squeezed her hand, checking one last time to make sure she was okay. She searched his eyes, trusting him wholeheartedly, and he was certain he had never loved her more.

“Over there,” he said in a low whisper. “With the little hat on.”

Scully followed his line of sight, gasping when her eyes settled on the playful baby in the water.

What followed next was a sob, and he quickly lost his battle with the tears that stubbornly refused to go away. He wrapped his arms around Scully, offering her what solace he could, while his own chin wobbled miserably.

She alternated between sneaking glances at her son and crying into his shirt collar, muttering “Mulder,” desperately as he rocked her back and forth, his hand smoothing out her hair for her comfort as much as his own.

He couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing her like that... it made it hard to stay strong, but he needed to be. For her. He closed his eyes, pleading with the universe never to give her this kind of pain ever again.

When he opened them again, his stomach dropped to the floor.

The woman he'd seen earlier was looking at them, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

He cursed under his breath, his arms tightening around Scully. She was in no state to leave. The best they could do was avoid eye contact and keep to themselves.

But it looked like that wouldn't be enough.

The woman, William's adoptive mother, whispered something to the man she was with, nodding in their direction. His concerned face matched hers, and he nodded. With a sickening lurch, Mulder realized she was getting out of the water, wrapping herself in a towel and heading toward them.

It was too late. They'd been made.

“Scully,” he said, alarm creeping into his voice. She only had a moment's warning before the woman was there, glancing down at them with a worried frown.

“Is she alright?” William's mother asked, empathy oozing from her.

Mulder hurried to compose himself, knowing Scully was a lost cause at this point. It would be on him to get them out of this.

“She's fine, sorry,” he managed to speak, wracking his brain for a believable excuse. Best to stick close to the truth. “We—We can't have children, so—” he nodded toward their son, hoping she could fill in the blanks.

Looking behind her at the boy in the water, her face eased into one of understanding.

“Oh, I know how that feels,” she said, smiling consolingly. “Our son over there is adopted. Every day we thank God for blessing us with him. He's our little miracle.”

Scully grips him tighter, barely restraining a mournful wail. His heart sinks, knowing this interaction isn't going well at all.

He presses a desperate kiss to her hair, wishing he'd never exposed her to this pain. Wishing they were alone in the confines of their hotel room or car so she could let it all out without arousing suspicion. Wishing this woman, as kind-hearted and friendly as she seemed to be, would leave them alone.

“Are you sure she's okay?” she asked Mulder, brows furrowing again.

His hand rubbed up and down Scully's shoulder, and he nodded. “She will be. This is—hard for her.”

“Okay,” the woman said, not sounding fully convinced. “Let me know if there's anything I can do. Like I said, I've been where she is.”

“Thank you,” Mulder choked out, eyes flitting about, looking for their escape.

Through the gate. Through the hotel. Down to the beach.

“Oh, sorry,” William's mother spoke, turning back instead of leaving. “I never introduced myself. My name is—”

“No!” Scully stopped her, looking suddenly panicked and alert.

The woman startled at the outburst, jumping back slightly.

“Mulder, we can't know,” Scully said, looking pleadingly at him. “We can't know anything, we can't!”

“It's okay,” he said softly, coaxing her back from the edges of a total breakdown. “It's okay.” He looked back up at William's mom, smiling an unconvincing smile. “I think we'd really better get going. It was nice talking to you,” he said as he helped Scully to her feet. “Come on, hon, back to our room.”

It was hard to move quickly with Scully desperately clinging to him, but it wasn't the first time they'd been in this position. Once they got back inside, he'd run her a nice warm bath and apologize over and over for everything he'd ever done to hurt her.

They just. Had to. Get. Through—

“Wait.”

He froze.

“You're—You're his parents, aren't you? The ones who gave him up?”

Ice water filled his veins. He could feel Scully shaking like a leaf under his arm.

“We really should be going—” he tried, refusing to turn back around.

Her voice was closer now. “You are. I—there's so many things I've wished I could ask you. At least let me thank you. Please.”

Against his better judgement, he risked a glance back.

“Mulder, we have to go,” Scully begged, now standing on her own and pulling him by the hand. His feet were rooted to the ground, unable to take a single step forward or back.

“Just wait a minute, Scully,” he said, his brain running a mile a minute to calculate the amount of danger each potential course of action held.

He met the woman's eyes, serious.

“Look, this is not easy for her. For us. Our situation right now is—” his eyes scanned around for anything out of place, “We—We really shouldn't be talking to you.”

The woman stepped closer still, a pleading expression on her face.

“It was a closed adoption, I know. But—”

“I'm sorry. We can't.”

Scully looked exhausted, frightened, and sick all at once. Every second they stood there chipped away at her, the anxiety sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

“You're right about one thing,” Mulder conceded, glancing over at his son and drinking in his unconcerned, innocent features.

The next words nearly choked him with sorrow.

“He is a miracle.”

They were meant to be parting words, a reminder to this woman to never take what she has for granted, but before he could move, a hand landed on his forearm, effectively stopping him.

“We'll let you see him,” the woman offered desperately, near tears herself. “Please. Just a few moments.”

And with that on the table, Mulder was torn.

On the one hand, this woman had offered them something invaluable: a chance to say goodbye, something they hadn't been able to do properly the first time.

On the other hand, it would be selfish. To put their son and his new family in danger simply because they got caught in a moment of weakness... it was unfathomable. He couldn't be responsible for more suffering. He didn't think he could bear it.

“Please?” the woman said again, squeezing his arm.

He had a decision to make. Glancing once more at Scully's crumpled face, he caught sight of the slightest hint of hope. A barely-there gleam that he'd tear down earth and heaven for the chance to brighten.

His decision was made for him.

Cursing his lack of willpower, he turned suddenly to meet the woman's eyes.

“Not here,” he whispered sternly, pointing in her direction. “Give us half an hour, then come to room 409.”

“409,” the woman repeated, nodding. “We will.”

Mulder hardened his jaw, giving one final nod before collecting Scully and hurrying off into the building without another glance back.

“This is dangerous, Mulder,” Scully said worriedly as they passed through the hall, though he knew deep down she was relieved that she might get to see her son again. He only hoped that this risk would be worth it, that they'd be able to find some semblance of peace here and leave feeling less like a part of them was missing when all this was over.

As soon as they entered their room, Scully broke down.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she gasped, crouching low to the ground and covering her face with her hands.

He immediately dropped to his knees to help her up, ushering her over to their bed.

“Did you see him? He's gotten so big.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, a mix of happy and sad, and though he'd known Scully and her nonverbal cues for so long, he still wasn't quite sure what she needed right now.

“Yeah, I saw him, Scully,” he answered, pulling her into his lap and rocking her gently.

“Do you think they'll really come?” she asked, hopeful, but hesitant.

“We need to be prepared in case they don't,” he answered realistically, thinking of an entire squad of police cars surrounding the hotel with their flashing lights and sirens. “I can pack up the toiletries, you got the suitcase?”

She nodded, grateful to have something physical to do.

Mulder checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes. If they didn't come in twenty-five minutes, it was time to get out of dodge.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips. “I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too,” she answered, breathing deeply to calm herself. Checking one last time to make sure she was okay, he nodded and released her, each to their own assignments to ensure they were ready to make a quick escape if need be.

As the minutes passed, they became restless. They watched the clock, counting down the seconds until they should have arrived.

Their cutoff time came and went. Mulder was about to call it and give the signal to run, already gathering bags and suitcases, but the subtle knock on their door stopped him in his tracks. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing for Scully to stay quiet while he checked the peep hole.

The sight before him caused his shoulders to slump in relief.

“It's them?” Scully asked hopefully, reading his body language.

He gave a cautious smile back, then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

There they were, William’s adoptive parents.

And William.

It nearly took his breath away.

This close. They were this close to him, after thinking they’d never see him again. He felt like a dehydrated man in a desert stumbling upon an oasis when he was sure he was going to die.

“Hi,” the woman said, looking more uncertain now that they weren’t out in the open. Her husband looked similarly guarded, but they were here, that was all that mattered.

“Uh, come in,” Mulder said, finding his voice.

He stepped aside to allow them entrance, and Scully immediately stood from her seat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I promise we’re not here to take him,” he assured them, closing the door behind them. “As much as we wish we could.”

Once the door was secure, he went to stand by Scully, placing a hand on her back.

“We were just passing through, I couldn’t believe it when I saw him sitting there in the pool.”

The woman nodded, still a little tense, but wanting to believe him.

“Small world,” her husband said, standing protectively next to his wife and child.

Mulder nodded.

“Look, there’s not much information we can give you. For his safety and yours, this is the way it had to be.”

“I always wondered where he came from,” the woman said. “I thought maybe a teen mom, or someone who just couldn't take care of him, but, you—”

“He was always wanted,” Scully spoke, finally able to speak for herself. Her voice came out strained, gasping for air between words. “I prayed for him for so long.”

Mulder's hand found hers, giving it a squeeze to lend her some of his strength.

“He was our miracle.”

The woman looked down, saddened by this news.

“But you were right,” Scully continued, steadying her voice. “We couldn't take care of him. Our life—it isn't stable enough for a child right now. It might never be again. So, I gave him up.”

“Didn't you have a family member who could have taken him? A friend?” the man asked. “Why a closed adoption?”

Scully shook her head, looking down at her feet. How she had wished she could have sent William to live with Bill and Tara, maybe even Charlie. But it wouldn’t have been enough. It would have only endangered more people she cared about.

“That's something we can't disclose,” Mulder answered for her. “But someday, when he asks, I want him to know...” He breathed, summoning the strength to form the words. “I want him to know that we loved him... so much.” With each breath he took, tears filled his eyes, clogging his throat until he wasn't able to speak anymore.

They would always love him, for as long as they lived. Giving him up wasn't going to change that.

“Well,” William's new mom said through tear filled eyes. “I can't tell you how much it means to us to have him.” Scully bowed her head, nodding along with a steady stream of tears. “I promise to take good care of him. He'll be safe and happy with us.”

“Thank you,” Scully whispered, unable to look the man and woman in the eyes.

“We've been worried about him,” Mulder admitted, “hoping he was alright...” He checked in with Scully, reading her like he was so good at doing, before deciding it was safe to speak for them both. “I think, seeing that he is... is a huge weight lifted off our shoulders.”

Scully gave a nod in agreement, looking up at Mulder with something of a promise. A promise that they would be okay, eventually.

“I can't imagine what you must have gone through,” the woman said. “But we are so thankful. He—I don't suppose you want to know his name?”

“No,” Scully said quickly. “I—we can't. I couldn't handle the temptation.”

The temptation to track him down, just for the chance to see him again. That was a dream that could never be.

“What did you call him?” the woman asked, and Mulder squeezed Scully's hand again, letting her know it was okay. It was a common enough name, there couldn’t be any harm in telling her the truth.

“William,” she answered. “His name was William.”

To hear it spoken aloud after all this time was a relief. It had been almost taboo the past six months, too painful a word to be uttered. But now, there was something freeing about letting his name hang in the air.

Letting go, Mulder realized. They had to let him go.

“Well...” the woman began again, smiling at them reassuringly. “William is such a bright and curious child. He loves building towers out of blocks and throwing things at it to knock it down. He—He has this stuffed fox he takes everywhere. They're practically inseparable. His first word was 'mama'. He likes watching baseball and hockey with his dad. He—He's everything we could have hoped for, and more. So, thank you. Thank you for making such a beautiful child for us to love.” Her eyes shone with happiness, the kind which Scully wondered if she’d ever felt. “I knew you had to be remarkable people, because he's a remarkable child.”

“And now we know where he gets those lips and that hair from,” the father added, lightening the mood as much as possible, under the circumstances. “He's covered in sunscreen, must be your genes,” he said, nodding at Scully with a smile. And wonder of wonders, she laughed, a sudden, unexpected thing, and leaned into Mulder's side.

“We should let you go,” Mulder said after a moment, hating that it had to be done. “We'll need to be heading out soon.”

“To where?”

“We can't tell you that.”

Will's adoptive father's eyes met those of his biological one, and a look of understanding passed between them.

Adjusting her hold on William, the woman spoke, glancing between them as she did.

“I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you a moment with him.”

Scully's head snapped to attention.

“You've already sacrificed so much,” she continued, “And I trust you. You're doing what's best for—for William. I know you have his best interests at heart.”

Mulder wished, wished, wished he could honestly say it was in William's best interests to be with him and Scully... but it wasn't. The truth of their reality was such that it could never be. Not through any fault of their own as parents—but because of external forces working against them, desperate to tear them apart and leave them with nothing.

But they had failed.

Because what they had was more than nothing. They had each other. And though they would have to live with the knowledge that a part of them was missing, maybe after today they would be able to make peace with what they do have. To live life to the fullest given the circumstances they've been forced to survive in.

In truth, he hadn't felt this hopeful about the future since the moment Scully first placed his son in his arms. There was still a mountain of hardships to surmount, but it didn't seem quite as impossible as before. And it was all thanks to a chance encounter with their son, at the precise moment they needed him most.

“We'll leave you be,” Will's mother spoke, checking with her husband to make sure he agreed. “If you need us, we'll be downstairs having some coffee.”

Scully's brows slanted in worry. “You don't have to go, it's okay,” she said, wanting to stop them.

“You deserve some time alone,” the woman said kindly, shaking her head. “I can see how much you need it, dear.”

Scully's chin wobbled, dangerously close to another round of tears.

And then she was coming toward them, William perched on her hip. She deposited him right into Scully's disbelieving arms, and Mulder immediately felt his throat close, the sight one he'd seen almost every night in the most heart wrenching of his dreams.

This was what he'd hoped to come home to after his time in the desert. This was what kept him sane between bouts of torture in a prison cell. To see it now was equal parts fulfilling and painful.

“I can give you something, a guarantee we won't run off with him,” he choked out, working to free his wrist from his moderately expensive watch. William's dad reached a hand out and stopped him.

“We trust you,” he said with a sad smile. “We'll be back in an hour. Please, take all the time you need.”

And with that, they left the room.

As soon as they were gone, Scully's head dropped to rest against the strawberry blond locks of their son, and she let out a sob.

“William,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his head. He seemed unfazed, and part of Mulder wondered if he still remembered her. If deep down, he knew this was the woman who had once fed him from her own body, sung him to sleep in an off-tune melody, soothed him when he had nightmares...

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

The same couldn't be said for him, however.

“I can't believe this, Mulder,” Scully cried, her tears falling into his downy-soft hair. Mulder led her back to the bed, sitting beside her with their son on her lap. “Did you hear what they said? He's so much like you, watching sports on TV, knocking his blocks down... He'll be throwing pencils at the ceiling in no time.”

That brought a small smile to his face, and he leaned to his right to press a kiss to Scully's forehead, his hand falling into place on their son's back.

William leaned away, taking in the new faces with a curious tilt to his head.

“Hey, bud,” Mulder said, offering him a finger to hold. For all the time he'd spent thinking of what he'd say to his kid if given the chance, he was coming up short now that he was face-to-face with the reality. “I missed you so much,” he managed to say, “And look how much you've grown!”

William reached out, holding his hands up in front of him, and Mulder's heart leapt. Glancing at Scully for permission, he slid his hands under his arms, lifting him to his chest and nuzzling him close.

“Oh, Scully,” he said, beginning to cry again, feeling the weight of William on his chest, real and tangible. “Sometimes I thought it was all a dream. But we have a son.”

It was hard to think of him out in the world, when he was hardly more than an idea. But now—he had face to put to the name, a personality to remember. He had a son.

She nodded, watching them with a watery smile. He pulled back just to look at him again, to memorize those chubby cheeks and the way he smelled. The precise shape of his eyes, their color, still the same as his mother's.

“I'm so glad we stayed here, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “To think I tried to talk you out of it...”

“Fate was working its magic, Scully,” he said, cutting her off. “This was meant to be.”

For the next hour, they played on the floor together, using Mulder's keys as a toy to hold William's attention. He was walking now, and took turns toddling between them, excitedly holding the TV remote in one hand and squealing when they praised him for successfully making it without tripping or falling.

For a while, they could almost forget this wasn't real. That they weren’t on borrowed time, already risking things they shouldn't be for this blissful moment of being a family.

Mulder got to see Scully as a mother. She saw him as a father. Finally, they had the chance to step into those roles, feeling fulfilled in ways they never could have imagined. It went far beyond any truth that once lay hidden in the X-Files. Nothing in that office of theirs could have given them purpose like this. Only each other, and the life that was formed out of the love that was sparked right there in the basement of the Hoover building so many years ago.

Mulder had always wondered how it would sound to hear the words “da da da” come from a child's mouth, and to know they meant him. Though his babbling wasn't intentional, merely a repetition of the same syllables “da” and “ma” over and over again, he was soaking it in. Committing it to memory. Praying—because only something like this could drive a man like him to prayer—that his son would think about him. Would think about his mother. That he'd grow to know and understand and appreciate the heartache they suffered at giving him away.

That maybe he'd love them too, despite never knowing them.

And maybe.

Maybe.

One day, they'd see each other again.

It was getting late. Scully could tell it was past William's bedtime. She laid him on their bed, and laid down beside him on her stomach, content just to look at him and be near him for however much time they had left.

Mulder joined her on the other side, resting a hand on top of William's gently rising and falling belly.

“I love him more than I ever knew was possible,” he whispered, and noticed as Scully wiped away a tear.

“It hurts, knowing we have to say goodbye.”

Mulder nodded, reaching a hand over William to rub circles on Scully's back.

“But not as much as it hurt before.”

Mulder remembered how Scully screamed, when he first found her in that dirty, abandoned house in Georgia.

“Don't take my baby. Please don't take my baby.”

It was different now.

This time, it was on their own terms. Their curiosities were satisfied, the things they always would have wondered about.

Who he resembled more. What his voice sounded like. His smile and his laugh when he was happy. The way he scrunched his face when he wasn't.

But above all else: would he be okay?

And now that they knew without a doubt that he was? They could let him go.

As much as any parent could let go of a piece of their soul, their own flesh and blood.

He would always be a part of them. They would always wish things could have gone differently. But at least now, Mulder had had a chance to say goodbye. At least Scully wasn't being forced to leave him with little warning, worrying that she was abandoning him to an unknown fate.

A blanket of peace fell over this humble, outdated hotel room. And for the last few minutes they would spend as parents together, Mulder and Scully counted themselves lucky. For this time was a gift, far more than they could have ever hoped to receive.

The same knock from earlier sounded, and a heavy feeling settled in Mulder's chest. He dragged himself away from the bed, while Scully lifted the sleeping William into her arms and held him close.

“How did he do?” their son's mother asked, looking perfectly at ease in a way that calmed and reassured him.

“Great,” Mulder answered. “He—He's perfect.”

The time had come. Scully knew it too. They'd already stayed longer than they should have. He knew there was a long night of driving through pitch darkness ahead of them, and he really, really didn't want to go.

But he had to do what was right for his son. That was all he ever wanted to do, as a father. He just didn't want to be the one to break Scully's heart all over again.

“I guess this is it,” Scully said, sounding calmer than he would have expected. He knew her, though, and he could see the emotions brewing beneath the surface.

It would be a tearful night for both of them.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she said to William's new mom, stepping fatefully toward her. But before she could pass him over, she paused, looking down at him for the last time in her own arms. “William?” she spoke, her voice strained. “Mommy loves you.”

“Daddy loves you too, baby boy,” Mulder said, never having referred to himself as such before, but wanting to know how it felt.

He cupped the sleeping child's head, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then another, not able to convince himself that each would be the last.

“I'm so sorry, William. Be good for your mom and dad, okay?”

Scully leaned against him, her strength beginning to wane.

“Goodbye,” she said, kissing him desperately all over, playing with his socked foot and each of his tiny fingers. “I want to believe I will see you again someday.”

As they passed him over, together this time, William's new parents smiled tearfully.

“If—If he suddenly gains an interest in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster,” Mulder began in a worried, cautionary tone, “just buy him some picture books. He'll be okay.”

Though it easily could have been a joke, no one laughed. In fact, the man and woman nodded, taking his advice to heart. He felt better knowing their son would be accepted, no matter who he grew up to be. The child of the FBI's most unwanted was sure to be a bit of a loner.

“And tell him he'll grow into his nose. Sort of,” he added, this time eliciting a small smile from Scully.

“I promise, we'll tell him every day how loved he is,” the woman vowed. “I'm glad we met you.”

“I'd call it a God-given miracle,” the man said, and he reached out a hand to Mulder to shake. “Stay safe,” he said, then catching sight of Scully's necklace. “We'll be praying for you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Mulder's arms suddenly felt empty. He could see Scully felt the same, wrapping hers around her own torso just for something to hold. He enveloped her in an embrace, holding tight to keep both her and himself from chasing after them.

“Bye,” the woman said over her shoulder, her worried eyes unwilling to turn away from the sad couple they'd met. She gave a small, consoling smile, and lifted William's pudgy hand to wave goodbye.

Mulder and Scully waved half-heartedly in return, smiling as genuinely as they could, and watched as they disappeared through the door.

Once they were gone, Scully turned into Mulder's chest and held tight. His cheek rested on top of her head, and they swayed, silent but for the sound of the ocean nearby.

“We're gonna be okay,” Scully said at last. “Mulder—”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity and love.

“We're gonna be okay.”

#x files #txf #xf fanfic #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #post-series #the truth #william mulder #jackson van de kamp #chance encounter

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