#I'll also keep the chapters here as they were

[gowerhardcastle]

I believe you mentioned somewhere that down the line there would be the opportunity to fire Fitzie for good? So, wow, with that branching I can imagine there’d essentially be a whole other novel sized word count needed going on! (Especially whether it happens in Tea and Scones or Port In a Storm, like if it happens in T&S is there just a completely different third book needed to be written?) What’s the thought process for these big kinds of branching and in a practical sense how do you manage scope creep?

My actual, honest answer to this is "I'll figure it out when I get there."

I know that the real way this story needs to be told is to give the player the opportunity to fire Fitzie at the end of Tea and Scones.

This way, keeping Fitzie means something. Even if you never, ever play the "fired" branch, it doesn't matter, because you'll know that your choice was real, that there were actual stakes, and that there is an alternate future where what you are experiencing doesn't happen.

That's why, by the way, lots of meaningful choices are very, very important even for players who only play once, or who have a single canonical path that they play and replay and that's it for them.

I'm going to solve it the way I solve everything: I'm going to throw a lot of words at it. I know that the conventional wisdom is not to diverge so broadly, to kick the can and then diverge after it doesn't matter any more, because that's how you manage scope creep.

I'm just saying the following as what I do--I don't really offer it as advice for anyone else, but this is my own thing: I don't want to manage scope creep. This series is clearly my life's work, and I want it to be the exact right shape and be as big and baggy and weirdly structured and outrageously diverging as it demands to be.

It's kind of like when I offered the choice of five sponsors in Cakes and Ale for the club. I knew if I did that, I had to make good on that choice and write five different chapters in Tea and Scones, one for each sponsor, that felt full and interesting and complete. That took forever! But it's done now, and I'm glad I spent a year on that, and I think you will be too.

I'll figure it out when I get there.

Also: I have a write up about how I create a particular style of romance content here: Getting to Zeroth Base, which is freely available to read in full.

[midnightfairy1]

The Forest Kingdom

Chapter 2

3.2k words

Heyy everybody here is chapter two. This ENTIRE chapter is g/t as promised, so hope you enjoy! By the way writing this chapter was basically how I studied for my ap lang test if your interested 😋 I think the test went pretty well too maybe a five? Anyways keep reading below!

Cassian: First Interaction

The second Cassian locked eyes with the person on his countertop, a name resurfaced in his brain. The edges of the letters were hazy and foggy in his mind, but he could clearly see a word forming.

“Sylven…?” Cassian whispered. “I- Is that your name?” He clutched his head, a sharp pain erupting. How did he know the guy’s name? There wasn’t a way he could have known him already, he wouldn’t have forgotten a miniature person. Or what if I had? Cassian realized. What if he knew this boy before his memory cut off? Cassian was unable to finish his train of thought before he heard a whimper and his attention was drawn back to Sylven.

“C- Cassian? Is that really you?” Sylven squeaked out, tears filling his wide eyes. Sylven was cowering away from Cassian; he was so, so tiny.

What. The. Hell. How in the world did he know Cassian’s name? Cassian caught a whisper of a smile on Sylven’s tiny face. Cassian also noticed Sylven shaking like a leaf. He smacked himself in the head again; it finally dawned on him how scary this situation must be for a guy his size. He didn’t really consider it before, and Cassian didn’t want to admit it, but Sylven was kind of completely at his mercy. Cassian crouched down, leveling his gaze with Sylven. He didn’t want to be big and scary.

“Hey, hey. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I just saw you injured in the forest and thought I might be able to help. I can take you back if you want, but I have some bandages and meds that might make you feel better.” Cassian spoke softly and quietly; he didn’t want to startle the little guy. He paused and thought for a second, then added: “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I'm wondering how you know my name?”

Sylven paused for a second, as if contemplating how to answer, but he just shook his head. Alright. That was alright. He already looked scared out of his mind, so Cassian couldn’t expect him to continue a conversation just yet.

Cassian stood up again, slowly. He didn’t want to do anything that might startle Sylven. This kind of fear definitely couldn’t be healthy for somebody already horribly injured. Cassian tentatively inched his hand forward until he was touching the medicine he left near Sylven. He used the tip of his finger to nudge them closer.

“Here. I have some meds that might help you with your bruises. This is aspirin, which might help numb the pain. I also have tylenol, which helps with headaches if you’re having any. I don’t really know what to do about your leg though, it looks pretty twisted. Do you think you’re able to walk just yet?”

Sylven responded by shivering even more violently than before. Cassian breathed out a snort of laughter; this might take a while. Not that Cassian minded, he liked to think of himself as a pretty patient guy. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to sweep Sylven up and keep him warm and safe in his hands; he liked the feeling of holding Sylven cupped in his hands earlier because Cassian knew that as long as he had Sylven, no more harm could befall the little guy. There was no way he could do that yet though, but maybe once Sylven felt a little more comfortable.

“Alright, how about this: I’ll go get us some snacks because I’m starving, and you can use your alone time to calm down a bit. If you want to go anywhere, including back to the forest, just yell for me and I'll take you. Back in a flash!” Cassian flashed Sylven a grin and stepped off to the kitchen.

Sylven: First Interaction

Sylven was overwhelmed by how huge everything around him was. The lights were too bright, he could hear the rhythmic motion of the blades of the fan spinning in slow motion, he could feel a slight breeze coming from that fan, and he could hear the uneven beats of water dripping out of the sink. Even though he could tell the giant before him was speaking quietly, the voice still reverberated throughout his entire body. It’s crazy somebody could hold that much power in just their voice; Sylven prayed there was no malicious intent behind Cassian’s kind eyes.

He had come to terms with the fact Cassian was gone and never coming back a long time ago, when the existence of humans was confirmed. It was absolutely insane that Cassian was now a human; it doesn’t make sense. Sylven considered the idea that maybe the person towering over him might be a Cassian imposter, but shook his head instead. How would an imposter guess his name? Also, the boy who crouched down and spoke to him softly was too nice to be anyone other than Cassian. He was so lost in thought he didn’t catch the last thing Cassian said.

That’s when Cassian stood back up again. He was so insanely huge; he could crush Sylven with just one finger. He remembered how sweet Cassian was when they were children, but how well did he know him now? What if Cassian decided to keep him locked up or treat him like a pet? So far, he hadn’t done anything demeaning, but for Sylven it’s only been a couple minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sylven saw Cassian’s hand reach forward. Oh no, he’s going to grab me and hurt me. Sylven cowered even further back. Cassian was so tall Sylven couldn’t even see his face without craning his neck all the way; instead he hugged his knees in all the way and shoved his head down.

Sylven braced himself for the grabbing, but it never came. Instead, Cassian offered him meds and asked about his leg. Oh right, my leg. Now that Cassian mentioned it, Sylven was finally hit with a wave of pain. Feykin could fall from pretty high heights and walk away without a scratch, but a six foot fall was really pushing it. Especially if he fell at a weird angle, which he had because he was pushed. Sylven crossed his arms and glowered at the thought. Those patrols must’ve thought they’d kill him if they’d glimpsed Cassian’s giant figure carrying him away; and Sylven was sure they had, from a safe and cozy hiding spot. Little did they know. Him and this giant actually used to be best friends. Maybe Sylven should have Cassian come by the village and give them a good scare.

Alright, he was getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t even talk to the guy yet; his mouth glued itself shut out of fear every time he simply opened his eyes. He knew Cassian would never agree to it anyways. Too nice.

Cassian offered to go get food and left the room. His voice was soft, but it still sent shivers down Sylven’s spine. He could feel the vibrations and the rumblings of Cassian’s massive steps throughout the entire bathroom countertop.

Sylven attempted to stand up, maybe stretch, but his efforts remained fruitless. His leg really was twisted bad. At his village, any kind of physical impediment turns someone into an outcast, and most of the time they wouldn't last long enough to heal anyway. When he was a kid, before the scare of humans, medicine and medical practices were easily accessible. However, after the kingdom-wide lockdown, a lot of hobbies and jobs were lost in favor of spending time scavenging food and water from wherever it was available. Having enough time to sustain someone’s mandatory bodily needs and to pursue their passion was a luxury most people couldn’t afford; Sylven was lucky his passion for cooking was a relevant skill in this day and age.

He heard Cassian on his way back before he saw him; it was pretty hard to miss the mini earthquake the guy created with each stride. In his hands, Cassian balanced a paper plate, a bag full of chips, a glass of water taller than any height Sylven could ever hope of growing to, and a small soda bottle cap. “Alright buddy, I don’t know how to cook, but I brought us some chips. Have you decided if you want any medicine yet or not?”

Sylven opened his mouth and closed it again after no words came out. Sure, he knew Cassian, or at least felt like he knew him, but he wasn’t going to overcome his lifelong fear of humans in minutes. But he was hurting really bad, and he did want some of the aspirin. He opted for a small head nod, if Cassian could even see it. He did, and offered a small smile. “Perfect, i'll crush up some aspirin; this big of a pill would not be healthy for a guy your size. Did you need tylenol too?”

Sylven shook his head. Cassian smiled again.

“Sounds good.” Cassian picked up the bottle of aspirin and took out one pill. His motion was slightly faster than he had been before. Sylven flinched back.

“Sorry…” Cassian looked away, feeling guilty and cheeks turning red. He squatted down again, so he was in the same position he had been in earlier; his line of sight meeting Sylven’s. Sylven really appreciated how thoughtful Cassian was being towards him.

Cassian, still holding the pill, paused for a second as if contemplating what to do. Quickly, he reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He placed the pill on the paper plate on the far end of the counter (away from Sylven this time) and placed the device on top of it. Sylven was watching him intently. Cassian noticed and flashed a smile. Looking back, he put all his weight on top of the phone and used his hands to push it down. The two boys both heard a loud CRACK as the pill split into pieces safe enough for Sylven to digest.

A shudder ran through Sylven’s whole body. No matter how many times he saw it, he didn’t think he could ever get used to Cassian’s raw display of power. Cassian could crush him or capture him in an instant and Sylven wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect himself. Cassian looked over sheepishly. He had (correctly) assumed that his show of strength would make Sylven uncomfortable.

“Sorry again… but here!” He exclaimed, pushing the plate towards Sylven. “This should help a lot, especially with the bruises. Only take a small pinch of it; I wouldn’t want you to overdose and end up feeling worse.” Sylven gingerly (and hesitantly) propped himself up and started crawling off the sweatshirt towards the plate; his leg hurt too much to stand just yet. It took him a minute to finally reach the center of the plate and sit down steady enough to grab the medicine.

He glanced back at Cassian, who hadn’t crouched back down since he stood up to crush the pill, and who was looming over him once again. Sylven’s cheeks turned red. This was such a demeaning situation; he couldn’t talk (out of fear), couldn’t walk, and was currently sitting in the center of a giant human plate. He just felt so tiny, even if Cassian didn’t think anything of it. Carefully, he took a pinch of the aspirin, just like Cassian had said, and put it in his mouth to swallow. His face scrunched up at how horrible it tasted.

Cassian’s eyes widened, noticing the repulsed expression. “Oh! Sorry! That’s supposed to be a pill so it must taste disgusting, and I forgot to give you the water I brought,” Cassian hurriedly picked up the soda bottle cap he had brought with him and filled it up with water from the sink. A little too quickly for Sylven's liking, but he appreciated the speed when it came to ridding him of this awful aftertaste. The cap was dwarfed in Cassian’s hands, but it was more like a trough than a cup for Sylven. Cassian used two fingers to steadily bring the cap closer and closer to Sylven’s reach.

Sylven shifted in his seat. This was the closest Cassian had been to touching him yet, at least while he’s been awake. A tiny shift of Cassian’s finger could knock him out easily, but Cassian held steady and passed the water over with no problem. Sylven guessed he might’ve been a little nervous too, because he heard (and felt) Cassian let out a sigh after he pulled his hand away.

After taking a few sips, the taste from the pill in his mouth was more than fifty percent washed out. He looked up again to see Cassian fidgeting with his hands.

“So…” Cassian started meekly, “It might be kind of awkward to eat in the bathroom… Would you want to go to the living room instead?”

Sylven nodded his head right away, thinking nothing of it. Cassian beamed.

“Alright! I don’t think you would be able to get there on your own. Is it okay with you if I pick you up?”

Sylven stilled. Maybe he should have considered the logistics before agreeing immediately. He tried to sit up, at least so he was sitting on his knees like before. Only now, his nerves were worse and he fell backwards. Sylven’s cheeks turned red, and he looked up at Cassian and nodded. Cassian nodded back, not letting the pity he was feeling creep onto his face.

“Alright, I gotcha.” He reassured Sylven. Gingerly, and very very carefully, he reached his hands forward and positioned each of his fingers underneath Sylven one by one. Cassian’s fingers were soft and smelled like soap; they were steady enough that he could tell each one individually was strong enough to support his entire person.

“Ready?” Was all the warning Cassian gave before he was lifted up into the air.

An instant wave of vertigo hit him as he was rocketed up. Cassian quickly cupped his entire hands underneath Sylven and positioned his thumbs to hold him in place. Not like he was holding an object, but as if he was providing a seatbelt; a safety precaution that Sylven actually found quite comforting. He brought Cassian up to his face. “You okay, uh… Sylven?” He asked. Sylven nodded his head slowly, the height dizzying him. The ground was as far below him as it had been when he fell off the branch, maybe further.

With that, Cassian sauntered off to the living room, Sylven in hand.

Cassian: Living Room

Cassian had been itching to pick Sylven up since he first awoke, but as he carried him to the living room he could see (and feel) Sylven shaking. He must be so scared; Cassian would probably be too if he suddenly awoke in a completely new place with a giant. He made sure to be very gentle.

It's not that Cassian enjoyed his automatic control over Sylven, but he liked feeling in control of a situation. He liked to control Sylven’s possible threats, not Sylven himself.

Cassian also liked how cute Sylven looked huddled in his hands.

He could feel every miniscule movement Sylven made. It made him nervous, walking with the knowledge that he was holding an entire life in his hands. He reached the living room and set Sylven down on a couch cushion relatively the size of a football field. “I need to go get the snacks; be right back.”

Cassian left for the bathroom to grab the chips and water cups, but decided to go back to the kitchen and trade out the paper plate for a paper bowl that was clean of pill residue. When he arrived at the couch once again, Cassian set the snacks on the small table in front of them. He noticed the room was getting really dark; the sun outside had just made it past the horizon. He walked away and turned on a lamp before getting ready to sit down. He chose the spot on the opposite side of the couch to sit, even on a different couch cushion, but he still saw Sylven fall back out of the corner of his eye. He pretended not to notice. “Do you want to watch some TV? Also, it's definitely late enough to eat dinner so I can go get us food that's a little more nutritious. Is there anything you want? I don’t have too many options but I can try to whip something up.”

Again, no response other than a small shake of the head. Cassian sighed. He hoped he wasn’t so scary that he was going to have to stay stuck in a one-sided conversation. He was about to get up when he heard a small squeak from across the couch.

“Cassian,” Cassian was now completely still; complete attention on Sylven for fear of missing this special moment. He loved the sound of his name on Sylven’s tongue. “Th-thank you, s- so so much.” Cassian could hardly hear his tiny voice, but the volume at which Sylven spoke was no representation for how much Cassian’s heart swelled.

“Of course,” He assured, flashing a smile. “It’s what friends do.”

*End of Chapter 2*

Special Anecdote: Rowan (Back in the Forest)

Rowan knew they had fucked up. He looked at Laith, whose eyes were wide with fear and was obviously thinking the same thing. “The older patrols saw us walk off with him…” Laith whispered. They had just beaten a village boy up, took him past the legal borders against his will, pushed that same village boy off a six foot tree branch into the awaiting hands of a human, and watched like scared rats as the human walked off with him unconscious. They had just unintentionally masterminded the fifth kidnapping of a citizen by a human, kingdom wide newsworthy event. Rowan just knew they were going to get in so much trouble once they got back to the village. After the thundering steps of the human disappeared (and might Rowan add that was the biggest human he had ever seen), he and Laith scurried back in the direction of the patrol base.

“Maybe we can just say he ran off on his own? His word against ours, and he's not even here.” Rowan suggested.

“Yeah… I guess guards won't care enough to argue but the villagers will hate us.”

“They already hate us.”

“Yeah but now they’ll hate us even more.”

The two patrols walked in silence for the rest of the trip. They both hated getting assigned to patrol at this crappy village. Everybody knew this was where they sent the expendable people; it was the area with the most human sightings. Plus, Rowan had heard a rumor that this was the village where the very first person went missing, even before that patrol spotted a human. Apparently, a young boy disappeared overnight. It’s easy to guess the rest; he went wandering into the forest and got kidnapped by a monster he didn’t even know existed. His parents are in the royal prison now; maybe they were the ones who sent him off.

Thank you everybody who liked the first chapter enough to give the second story a try. This is basically my first real attempt at writing, so I would appreciate any feedback on how to improve my writing style!

[luimagines]

I'm talking like... if I were to set up a patreon, mailing list or something for monthly chapters until it's complete, would you guys be interested in that?

I'd naturally have to change it all to actually fit out of LoZ and such but I'll be keeping the main ideas the same. You would likely be able to tell who's who if you've gotten context clues from the boys themselves. XD

And this is for King! Dragon! Time. Not the other one.

[keeps-ache]

so Apparently a game i was running on my computer (without a cooler thing for a good minute there, because i guess i thought i was invulnerable to heat) may or may not have burnt out some parts of my machine. and it's been a couple months since i've played it bc it just stopped working one day and i just had to accept that lmao- but anyway i'm booting the game up again today, Surely this will go differently :3

[bell-swamp-fitzjames]

well it's official, in the shower today i realized there is a terrible canon i can inflict upon this one xmas exchange fic i shan't, i simply shan't but technically if u think about it well..... it's lowkey the one of the questions i had about the graham gore book but i can't remember if it got addressed

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[fushitoru]

chapter 10: the art gallery a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of sex work

chapter summary ⸺ duke nanami suprises you with an inquiry, and the panic caused by it leads to an encounter with a very unexpected person (4.7k)

a/n she's a short one but i swear sm happened that im kind of surprised it was so short? mostly beta read (thank u to them as always), and i'll see u down below ~~~~

prev. the embers | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

It seems that the next excursion polite society will be undertaking is at the art gallery, here in London itself. Filled with beautiful and evoking pieces, will it evoke affections and fuel potential matches? After all, it seems that the venue contains many hidden alcoves and hallways for potential confessions and intimate colloquies—so intimate that they are proposals.

One of these proposals this Author cannot help but speculate upon—that of Miss Itadori and Duke Nanami’s. After all, at every ball the fine lady and gentleman seem to be engaged in personal and amiable conversation; it appears clear to everyone in their surroundings that our season’s diamond has captured His Grace’s affections. But, dear reader, is this to amount to a future with wedding bells and blushing babes? Only time will tell; for now, your Author has no promises. After all, it seems that this season is sure to contain many surprises at every turn.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the sachet Nobara had insisted on tucking into your dresser to “keep you from smelling like an old book.” She stood behind you now, deft hands working through your hair with practiced ease, twisting locks into an elegant style fit for the day’s engagements.

“I came across something interesting in my brother’s study last night,” Nobara said conversationally, sliding a pin into place. “A rather compelling critique on the landowning gentry—Reflections on the Inequity of Titles—have you read it?”

Your attention perked at the mention of the text. “Yes,” you said, your brows knitting as you searched your memory. “It argues against inherited privilege and the consolidation of power within a select few, does it not? I recall making notes on it.”

As you spoke, you shifted slightly in your seat, the urge to review your thoughts overtaking you. Almost without thinking, your hand reached toward the hidden compartment in the floorboards—a small, carefully loosened plank where you kept your private writings. Your commonplace diary contained notes on radical philosophies you could never openly share, and even—if you were to be honest with yourself—a few stray reflections on Gojo (before it all went askew) that you had not yet had the courage to confront.

While you rummaged through the possible planks to find the hollow one, Nobara remarked, “There have been whispers of you among the maids, as well.”

You paused, turning to look at her fully as she twiddled with the ends of your comb. “Well, what do they say?”

She paused for a brief moment, as if weighing the effect her words could have on you. However, your closest companion was not one to mince words—especially if they would end up as beneficial for you, no matter how harsh. “That you’ve recovered from Lord Gojo quite well, and that you as a duchess is on the horizon—not as Mrs. Gojo, but Mrs. Nanami.”

Oh. This was not the least bit surprising—even your mama had heard these rumors. Part of you was concerned as to how your mother had gotten ahold of these whispers, given that Sukuna had long forbade her to attend balls with you after her last…episode, but it seemed that your mama had jaundiced channels of retrieving information herself. That, or the Whistledown had reported on it, which you would be ignorant to, for you did not care for gossip lately.

You wave a hand, and soon find the hollow space in your floorboards. “Those rumors may be all just hearsay soon enough, I suppose.” Then, you pull the floorboard where your diary is supposed to reside. “After all, Christ knows my luck with the creatures called men—”

Your fingers brushed against empty space.

Your breath caught.

The floorboard was there. The hollow beneath it remained. But your diary—your most guarded possession—was gone.

A sharp jolt of panic shot through you. You froze, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as your stomach twisted. No, no—perhaps you had misplaced it? You tried to recall, but the memory eluded you, replaced by a rising dread that gripped your chest in an iron vice.

The last you remember of it was packing it so that you could take it to the Gojo manor. Did you use it there? You did. If you recall correctly, you had done so in Nobara’s company, where you were secretly observing Gojo’s show of archery to Yuji on the balcony. After that, it was all a blur.

“Everything alright?” Nobara asked, tugging your hair slightly as she adjusted the style.

You barely heard her, your hands still hovering near the empty space as if willing the book to reappear. You wracked your brain carefully, trying to will in a memory where you had, in fact, succeeded to retrieve it from the Gojo countryside residence. A moment where you had packed it or a recollection of picking it up from the balcony—

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, the door burst open.

“Oi Sister, are you ready yet?” Yuji’s voice rang through the room, cutting through your panic. He leaned against the doorway with a lazy grin, arms crossed over his chest. “You do know we have to pay a visit to the art gallery today, correct?”

You barely had time to compose yourself, forcing a steady breath as you pulled your hand away from the floor. Nobara swatted at Yuji with a hairbrush, scolding him for his lack of manners, but you could hardly focus on their banter.

Your diary was missing.

And someone had taken it.

The art gallery was abuzz with the murmurs of the ton, the usual symphony of rustling silk, polite laughter, and the occasional overzealous exclamation from an admirer who fancied themselves an aesthete. Candles flickered in their sconces, casting a warm, golden light over the oil paintings that lined the walls—portraits of long-dead nobility, pastoral scenes meant to evoke longing for a simpler time, and a few ambitious attempts at allegory that left much to be desired.

As you walked hand in hand with Nanami, the weight of his palm in yours both familiar and grounding, your mind wandered elsewhere—back to the morning, to the jolt of panic that had seized you when you realized your diary was missing.

It had been a frantic affair. Nobara had barely twisted the last pin into your hair when you had rushed to the hidden space beneath the floorboards, expecting to feel the familiar worn leather beneath your fingertips. But it was gone. The shock of it had knocked the breath from your lungs, sent your thoughts scattering into a storm of fragmented memories—where had you last seen it? Had you truly packed it? No, you had taken it with you to the Gojo estate, that much you knew. But had you brought it back? The certainty evaded you, slipping through your grasp like water.

Before you could dwell further, Yuji had appeared in the doorway, cheerfully oblivious to your distress as he urged you to hurry. 

Choso had been more perceptive, his dark eyes lingering on your face as the four of you were ushered into the carriage. "Something wrong?" he had asked, quiet and measured.

You had shaken your head. What were you to say? That your diary—your most personal possession, filled with your thoughts, your observations, your private musings—had vanished into thin air? That the last place you remembered having it was the very home of the man who vexed you most? The thought alone had made your stomach twist. So instead, you had murmured some excuse about being distracted, about having not yet woken fully, and let the conversation drift elsewhere as the carriage rattled down the cobbled streets toward the gallery.

Now, standing in the midst of polite society, surrounded by paintings and candlelight and the low hum of cultured voices, the unease still clung to you.

"It is a fine collection," Nanami remarked beside you, his gaze sweeping over a landscape of rolling hills. "Though I must say, the artist’s depiction of light is rather conventional. There is no true feeling to it, only a replication of what is expected."

You nodded, your agreement automatic. "Indeed. It lacks a certain… depth. The brushwork is delicate, but there is no challenge in it, no provocation of thought."

Nanami hummed in approval. "Precisely."

The conversation continued in this fashion—pleasant, agreeable, effortless. But with each passing moment, a strange disquiet settled over you. Your mind drifted, not toward the paintings, nor to the man at your side, but to something far removed from this genteel setting.

The diary.

You had searched again this morning before leaving, hands trembling as you sifted through your belongings, the panic curling in your stomach like a tightening noose. Yet it was not there. No matter how many times you retraced your steps, no matter how much you willed the memory to sharpen, the last certain recollection you had was of the Gojo estate—of the evening spent watching Satoru’s archery from the balcony, of penning your thoughts in the quiet company of Nobara. And after that? Nothing.

Had you left it behind? Had someone found it?

A fresh wave of unease coursed through you. If it had been discovered, if its contents had been read—

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Nanami’s voice pulled you back to the present. You turned to him, startled, and realized belatedly that you had grown silent. His brow was slightly furrowed, his concern subtle yet unmistakable.

"I—no," you hastily assured him, forcing a small smile. "Merely lost in thought, Your Grace."

His gaze lingered, as if gauging the truth of your words, before he continued, seemingly appeased. "I was saying," he began, as the two of you came to a stop before a grand painting of a woman reading by candlelight, "that I should like to spend my life in such quiet appreciation of art and literature. With a loving wife, of course, who shares the same sensibilities."

The words were spoken casually, but the weight of them struck you like a blow. You stiffened, the meaning settling into place a second too late.

“It is time the Nanami dukedom get its duchess,” he continues, seeming to pay no mind to how you’ve frozen like a deer hunted. He turns to you, looking to you with a twinkle in his eyes, one you could not read. “And I seem to have found a very…capable option.”

“I see,” you force out, swallowing nervously. 

“Indeed.” For a beat too long, Duke Nanami looks at you, but then says, “And I would suppose I’ve done my utmost to show what a dutiful, respectful husband I can be—after all, it is freedom that makes one prosper, not a gilded cage. 

"Furthermore, I have my fancy on someone who fits this description," he continued, his tone carefully measured. "But I am unsure if she would accept my proposal." He glanced at you then, his gaze steady. "Do you think she would?"

The air seemed to thin around you.

It would take a fool to miss what His Grace was implying—hand in hand, after you’ve both been courting each other for a week or so now, it is quite clear he’s using this to test the waters. To gauge your reaction.

The air in the gallery suddenly felt too thick, too heavy, pressing in from all sides. You had been aware, on some distant level, of Nanami’s affections. He had always been steady, always constant, always present. But to hear it spoken so plainly, so deliberately—it sent a sharp, startling panic through you.

Your thoughts scrambled, grasping for something—anything—to say. Did you want this? He was everything a woman could ask for in a husband. Kind. Thoughtful. Intelligent. A man of great integrity. There was nothing about him that should make you hesitate.

And yet, you were hesitating.

"I think…" Your voice was too thin, too unsteady. "I think she would have to ponder upon it. For marriage is no small covenant."

It was a poor deflection, and you knew it the moment the words left your lips. Nanami’s expression remained composed, but there was something in the silence that followed—something in the way his gaze lingered on you, as if seeing past your carefully chosen words.

You needed to leave.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" you blurted out, taking a half-step back. "I—I believe I should like to get some air."

Nanami studied you for a fraction too long before inclining his head. "Of course."

You curtsied hastily, turning away before he could say anything else. The moment you stepped away from him, your breath came out in a shallow, uneven exhale. Marble walls, floors, and ornately framed pieces of art blurred together, dresses and suits melding together in the edges of your vision. 

You didn’t know why this reaction had seized you so violently, only that it had. And you had no answer for it. You stumbled your way, heart pounding as you sought a respite—then, pinpointing an empty hallway. 

As you made your way to the target space, you heard other voices calling out to you—some of them might even be your brothers’. However, you were in no headspace to offer coherence responses, not over the beating of your heart. 

When you finally arrived, you were relieved to find that the hallway was blissfully quiet. Away from the bustling crowd and the low hum of conversation, you finally allowed yourself to exhale, pressing a cool hand to your neck as if that alone could soothe the rapid beat of your pulse.

Nanami’s words still lingered in your mind, coiling around your thoughts like a vice. Do you think she will accept?

Your breath had caught before you could form a proper response. You should have expected it—Nanami was nothing if not deliberate, never speaking without intent—but somehow, the weight of it still unsettled you. It had been a question and yet not a question at all.

A proposal loomed on the horizon.

You turned, gaze sweeping the dimly lit corridor until it landed on a single painting near the end of the hall.

Unlike the grand, gilded masterpieces displayed in the main gallery, this one had been tucked away from the grandeur. It lacked the polish of a commissioned work, the smooth elegance of a court-approved artist. And yet, something about it pulled you in.

Your fingers skimmed over the folds of your gown as you steadied yourself, gaze flicking upward to the painting before you. It was unlike the others in the exhibition—less grand in scale, less ostentatious in its display of wealth or pedigree. There were no poised noblewomen adorned in lace, no battlefields drenched in glory, no sweeping landscapes inviting idle admiration. Instead, it was a quiet tableau: a man standing beneath a twilight sky, arm outstretched toward a woman who stood just beyond his reach. Her posture was composed, her hands clasped before her, the tilt of her chin ever so slightly downward. She was not running, not spurning him—but she was not reaching back either.

Your brow furrowed as you studied it further. It was not a painting that offered easy interpretation. Was it longing? Was it duty? Was it loss? The artist had chosen to render their expressions in subtlety, eschewing exaggerated pathos for something far more ambiguous. The man was reaching—but did he truly expect to grasp her hand? The woman was still—but did she wish to be? The tension between them sat heavy in the air, much like the one that had lingered in your own chest ever since—

Before you could ponder upon the painting for long, however, you heard footsteps. Approaching in the hallway, they echoed softly in quiet chamber—after all, it was only you and the person who was approaching, seeming to need a reprieve of their own as well in the hidden alcove. 

But you didn’t need to see the person to know who he was.

Soft, unhurried, yet a bit shaken. By now, you had grown familiar with the rhythm of his gait—the lazy confidence in his stride, the way his heels struck the floor just a bit too deliberately, as if he never truly moved without purpose, even when he pretended otherwise. Right now, they were a little bit too arrhythmical to truly match the attitude you were far too familiar with at the beginning of the season.

A prickle of awareness traced along your spine, your pulse betraying you with its quickened tempo. But you kept your eyes fixed forward, feigning complete absorption in the painting before you. It was not as if you were eager for company—not after the morning’s ordeal, not after Nanami’s near-proposal, not when your mind was already tangled enough without the added complication of Gojo Satoru.

Yet he did not call your name, nor did he demand your attention. He merely came to stand beside you, hands clasped lazily behind his back, exhaling softly as he, too, observed the artwork.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with the same easy lilt he always carried, Gojo remarked, “This is quite the departure from the usual fare.”

You nodded, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your gloves. “Indeed.”

Silence stretched between you once more. He did not press you for further conversation, and for that, you were strangely grateful. It was unlike him, really—so rarely was he subdued, so rarely did he refrain from prodding and teasing and making his presence unbearably known. But here, in this dim-lit corridor, he was simply… standing beside you.

A quiet hum. The faintest shift of weight. You could feel him looking at you now, though you refused to meet his gaze, instead fixing your gaze on the painting, the frame, anything almost desperately to calm your racing heart before you could have an over-the-top ebullition once more, embarrassing yourself in front of him for the nth time this season. 

A brief silence settled, and then—

“Are you enjoying the gallery?”

The question was polite, normal, and unremarkable. You latched onto it like a lifeline.

“It’s a fine collection,” you replied, keeping your voice carefully measured. “Some works are predictable, but others are…” You gestured vaguely toward the piece in front of you. “Surprising.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, stepping closer—not intrusively, but just enough that you could catch the scent of tobacco leaves and something subtly sweet. “That’s one way to put it. Though I have to say, you look like you’re concentrating awfully hard.”

You blinked, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the painting. “It’s a rather curious piece.”

“That it is,” he agreed, hands tucked behind his back as he regarded it. “But, like I said, a bit dreary. The colors are not vibrant, and there is much to be desired in regards to their harmony.”

You almost smiled at that. “Not everything has to be grand and gilded to have meaning.”

“A fair point.”

Another pause.

“You came with your brothers, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I did,” you said, grateful for the change in topic. “They were speaking with some friends when I last saw them. And you?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” He waved a hand. “Came with Geto, ended up being dragged into conversation with half the room.”

You nodded, the corners of your lips tugging upward just slightly. “A best friend’s love, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you. At the opportunity given to you—of not having to fill the silence courteously with further small talk—you instead set aim on settling your heart. Pressing a hand to your bosom, you took in deep breaths until your frantic pulse became more regular. 

Finally, he spoke again. “It is rather unusual, though.”

You inhaled slowly. “How so?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Most paintings of this sort would either commit fully to tragedy or leave some feeble hope within the composition. But this—” He gestured lightly. “There is no resolution. No grand confession, no dramatic refusal. It simply is.”

You found yourself exhaling, your posture easing ever so slightly. “That is precisely what intrigues me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “So we agree.”

You huffed softly. “A rare occurrence, indeed.”

Gojo chuckled at that, shifting his weight as he observed the painting anew. “Still,” he mused, “I do think the artist intends for us to sympathize with the man. See how he reaches? How he refuses to yield to their distance? A weaker man might call it tragic.”

Your brow arched slightly, turning your gaze toward him. “And what would a stronger man call it?”

Gojo hummed. “Hopeful.”

You studied him for a moment. Then, returning your attention to the painting, you shook your head. “I disagree.”

“Of course you do.”

“The woman is not simply distant—she is removed,” you continued, ignoring the teasing—softer than the one you recognize—edge to his voice. “She does not reach back, not because she is afraid or reluctant, but because she cannot. She is bound by something greater than yearning.”

Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression flickering with amusement. “You think it is duty, then?”

“What else could it be?”

His gaze lingered on the canvas, his smile fading just slightly. “Perhaps love.”

Something in your chest stilled.

Gojo let the words settle, slow and deliberate, before finally turning to face you fully. The candlelight cast his features in soft relief, catching on the silver embroidery of his waistcoat, the pale strands of his hair, the unmistakable glint in his eyes. “I find it rather grim—albeit in a different direction than of yours,” he remarked. “Rather than fear of what she cannot, it is better that love and duty do not coexist, for their amalgam can prove troublesome.”

You parted your lips, but hesitation stilled your tongue. Not because you lacked an answer, but because—for all your certainty earlier—you were no longer so sure.

A moment passed.

Finally, you exhaled, your posture softening by a fraction. “Perhaps,” you said, voice even, “we are simply of different minds.”

Gojo studied you for a beat longer before a slow, knowing smile curled at the corner of his lips. He inclined his head ever so slightly. “As we so often are.”

It was not a challenge. Not a victory.

Merely an understanding.

As you stood there, the conversation settling between you, you found yourself thinking—not just of the painting, not just of duty and love, but of him. Of what he had done for you. Of how, despite everything—despite his arrogance, his sharp tongue, the way he had needled and provoked you, the way he had wounded your pride in ways no one else ever had—he had still stood by you when it truly mattered. When the moment arrived, when the weight of the world bore down on you, he had not hesitated. He had not faltered.

It was no small thing.

Perhaps he was not someone you could court, not someone who fit the shape of the life you had imagined for yourself. Perhaps he was not someone you could love—not in the way you had once thought love should be. But he did not need to be an enemy.

Not anymore.

There were worse things in this world than an unbearable, impossible man who, despite it all, had proven himself in the ways that truly counted.

When Satoru had wandered into the hidden hallway to escape Suguru’s notorious actions, he had not expected to find you. But it seems that the day was full of surprises, for he hadn’t expected your sentiments and posture about him to have changed.

Gojo had expected a sharp tongue, a ready rebuttal, the usual resistance you always met him with. Instead, you spoke with a peculiar softness tonight, your responses thoughtful, your gaze lingering not on him, but on the painting before you. He had not expected you to be so—what was the word?—empathetic. You had a ready answer for everything, a thoughtfulness to your opinions that was neither contrived nor merely spoken to please. And so, he found himself asking more, pressing you for further insights, testing the depth of your knowledge not to challenge, but because he wanted to hear what you had to say. At first, when he had wandered in, you seemed completely distraught but had seemed to ease your way into comfort, even in his presence.

Curious thing, that.

“You truly have an answer for everything,” he murmured at one point, more to himself than to you.

You glanced at him sidelong, the corner of your lips tugging in what might have been amusement. “You say it as though it is a fault.”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “On the contrary, it is rather impressive.”

You inclined her head, not as a show of modesty but of simple acknowledgment. And for a brief moment, Satoru found himself simply… looking at you.

Your hair was finely arranged, swept up with delicate precision, though a few strands framed your face in an artful softness. The candlelight played upon the curve of your cheek, your lashes casting faint shadows upon your skin. Your dress—subtle in its elegance—complimented you in a way that felt effortless, the cut revealing just enough of the delicate arch of your throat, the slope of your shoulders, without ever breaching the realm of impropriety. You had always carried herself well, but there was something about you tonight, something that held his gaze longer than he intended.

He might have lingered longer still, might have remained entranced by the way the flickering light moved across your skin, had you not turned to him suddenly and called his name.

“My lord?”

He blinked, startled out of his reverie. “Hm?”

You studied him for a beat, her expression unreadable, before you simply exhaled and turned your gaze back to the painting. “I meant to thank you,” you said, voice quieter now. “For what you did last time.”

He knew what you referred to at once. The day he had defended you. The accusations that had been hurled at your feet, the venom spat in your direction—he had not tolerated it, would not have suffered it, no matter what might have stood between them.

Satoru felt the tips of his ears warm, though he smirked to deflect from it. “Ah. Well. It was merely a matter of preserving your honor.”

You turned to him fully now, your gaze steady. “You need not have done so.”

Satoru shrugged, though he found himself holding that gaze longer than he should have. “I could not stand to hear such things said of you.”

A quiet pause stretched between you both, and something in your expression shifted. A sort of understanding, perhaps. A recognition of something he could not yet name. He could not tell how long you both stood there like that, neither looking away, nor breaking the quiet that had settled so easily between you.

Then—

“Ah, here you are.”

Gojo turned sharply, his expression cooling the moment he recognized the voice.

Sukuna stood at the entrance of the hallway, his presence an unwelcome disruption to the delicate moment that had just transpired. His gaze flickered between you and Gojo, a slow, dangerous scowl settling over his features. “What the hell—”

You stiffened, immediately stepping away from Gojo, though his gaze remained steady on you. "Sukuna—"

"You’re with him?" he snapped, his tone sharp with outrage. His glare darted toward Satoru, seething. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not here," you hissed under your breath, already moving toward him. "Let us leave, brother."

Sukuna's jaw tightened, but his glare burned hot as he pointed a warning finger at Satoru. It was almost comical how his figure seemed to be an impenetrable boulder as you—tiny in comparison to his frame—tried to shove him out to salvage whatever grace you could in your exist. “Lord Gojo, you—!”

But it was to no avail, for you had hastily quieted whatever ill reprimand Mister Sukuna Itadori had to throw towards him by shoving a hand over his mouth. Then, you grabbed his arm, practically dragging him away, as you cast one last, hurried glance at Gojo. "Good evening, my lord." And then you were gone, Sukuna stalking beside you, fuming, while Gojo remained behind, watching you disappear into the halls lined with art.

prev. the embers | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n is this....character development??

i hope this appeased anyone who was beginning to worry that miss itadori was a bit too antagonistic ... i have my beta readers to thank otherwise we never would've made it out the trenches

reader after nanami dropped the bomb on her

lowk i dont have much else to say but uhhh streets been saying there's gonna be another forced proximity library scene soon but how would i know what happens lolz

reblog and comment to lmk ur thoughts!

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[venomvalley]

FEED ME!

PART II: FRIED APPLES AND SWEETBREAD ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 8.2k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika plays a game of cat-and-mouse.

TAGS: 18+! smut with feelings (thigh riding), vomiting mentions, PTSD, graphic violence, blood and gore, a lot of character development, soft!protective!mean sevika (it’ll make sense), listen this chapter is 8k a lot happens

NOTES: there are a lot of things in here that were really cathartic to write for me (i bet u can guess one of them) so uh i hope u enjoy it!!! if it sucks, i give yall permission to beat me with hammers

-> READ ON AO3 | PART 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

The warm body in her bed is her worst idea yet, but you had begged her so sweetly, promised that you would stay on your side as you clung to her in the living room. You have a way of shaving down her edges, making her a certain kind of weak that she thought she would never experience again.

She finally accepts the fact that's been staring her in the face since the very first night she met you: you're her responsibility, especially with your attacker still roaming the streets. Nobody will protect you like she can, has both the skills and reputation to remain unmatched in the Undercity. It has to be her.

You’re also a liar. Fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow then immediately rolled over and curled yourself against her back. So here she lay, wide awake, shoved to the edge of the mattress as you attempt to fit yourself between her ribs. The curve of your stomach sits perfectly against the small of her back, your arm thrown over her waist, gripping her shirt in a loose fist as if terrified that she'll up and leave. The heat of your breath between her shoulder blades makes her skin crawl.

Well. She’s slept in worse conditions. And she wouldn't dare move you after the day you've had. At least you're warm, and you smell nice, and maybe the flush weight of your body isn't the worst feeling in the world.

In the dead of night, she touches your hand. A ghost of fingertips over the hills and valleys of your knuckles, and your tightened fist relaxes. That's how she justifies it—an action borne not from her own want, but for your comfort.

Behind her, you stir awake, groaning against her back, and she tugs her hand away like you've burned her.

“Sorry,” you mutter, voice thick and gravelly, “but if I move right now, I'll throw up.”

She looks over her shoulder and barely makes out the curve of your cheek in the darkness. “I have a bucket.”

You exhale a pained laugh, and she tries and fails to suppress the stretch of her lips. “Oh shit, don’t make me laugh.”

“I told you to stay away from the mystery meat.”

“It smelled so good, though,” you whine, forehead thumping against the notches of her spine.

“Was it worth it?”

“No.”

A few minutes later, you relax against her, and the long, rhythmic breaths against her back tell her that you're finally asleep. Your hand returns to her belly, curling into a weak fist, and she soothes her thumb over the breadth of your knuckles.

And that's how she falls asleep, too.

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed and squinting, roused by the smell of fried apples Sevika cooks on the stove.

She’s not used to making food at home. Sees no point in it when there’s only her to worry about, and would much rather save herself both the time and effort by stopping at a food stall or sneaking snacks from the bar’s stash.

But she has a reason now. Glances over at you as you lean against the counter nearby, shirt hiked up over your bump to scratch at your belly—

Two reasons.

At least you put on underwear today.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Fried apples and sweetbread.”

You lean close to the pan, twisting toward her to keep from hitting the stove, and close your eyes on a slow inhale. “Smells amazing.”

She scoffs. “It’s fried apples. Nothing special.”

“Says you.”

Good point. You probably haven't had a fruit in months.

You stay close to her, even as she fusses in the kitchen to collect plates and silverware. At one point, she almost elbows you in the stomach because you needed to be right behind her at the drawers, and she hisses back a sharp breath. Spins around to snap at you.

“Can you just—” at the sight of your stiffened shoulders, she cuts herself off, inhales deep and counts to ten, “sit down.”

She isn’t used to this. People crowding her space, her apartment housing an extra body. And she definitely isn't used to the sniffling coming from her kitchen table.

She makes your plate of food then puts it down in front of you. You sit with your head in your hands, elbows balanced atop the table. By the time she’s ready for her own breakfast, you haven't even touched yours.

“What, you don't wanna eat?”

Your only response is to push the plate away, still sniffling into your hand.

She considers the best way to go about this without making the situation worse. Considers ignoring you, letting you cry it out, but she doesn't wanna do that. She feels bad.

So she scratches at the back of her neck, peeking at you from beneath her brow. “I didn't mean to upset you, but I don't want you hurt.”

“I know,” you grumble, voice gravelly and pouting. “Just hurt my feelings.”

“Then eat.” She moves your plate back across the table. “It won’t be good cold.”

With one final sniff, you pick up your fork and cut a piece of syrupy apple in half.

“It's good with the bread,” she says, picking up a piece and motioning for your fork.

She stabs at a few slices of apple then mashes them into the toast, spreading the syrup over top. Your eyes glaze over as you track the motions of her hands, your crying spell quickly forgotten at the sight of good-smelling food. She reaches you the slice, and you immediately bite into it.

At your low moan, the closing of puffy eyes, her lips twitch toward a smile. “Good?”

You hum in response, nodding your head. “Amazing. Thank you.”

Always a ‘thank you’, she's noticed. Grateful to a fault.

“I’m going to the markets today. You can come, stop by the consignment shop.”

She doesn’t know how else to make the morning up to you aside from buying you a few gifts. Things to occupy you when she inevitably leaves you alone for a few days.

In a few hours, you're back on the streets with a familiar hand in hers. The Lanes in particular have no doubt noticed your presence by now, some strange woman following her around like a lost puppy. All they do is talk around here. Let them.

The consignment shop is relatively close to her apartment, and yet you still have to stop a few times to rest, complaining about the ache in your back. She waits, though. Knows a thing or two about pain.

Your mood brightens when you step into the small building, heading straight for the small section of books and tomes. She glances around the place, walls stacked floor to ceiling with all manner of objects, some useful and some decidedly not.

You pick various books up, tilt your head as you read an excerpt, then slot them back onto the shelf. Over and over again, making slow work of the first section.

Picky woman.

She walks over to you, hovering nearby to let you concentrate in silence with an adorable furrow to your brow.

“Do you like to read?” you ask, sparing her no more than a glance before turning back to the page you opened to.

“I stopped reading after my mom died.”

An olive branch. She knows something horrible about you, and now you know the same. Can count on one hand how many people she’s mentioned her mother to.

Your lips curl into a sad frown as you set down the book in your hands. “Can I ask how she died?”

Sevika swallows, eyes flickering down to the swell of your belly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Did she read to you?”

You breeze past the question like you never even asked it, and she’s grateful. This isn’t a good place to start opening up old wounds.

She nods, trailing behind you as you waddle down the small aisle. “We didn’t have much, but she bought these picture books that we’d flip through before bed. I never really gave a shit about any of the words.”

Up ahead, you laugh, looking over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “I can see that.”

“What about your parents?”

You sigh. “Well, let’s see. My dad died in the mines when I was little, my sibling was stabbed to death in an alleyway, and my mom just… up and left when I was sixteen.”

A backstory all-too-common in the Undercity. Throw a cog in the street and hit a hundred traumatized people.

“I can't believe you turned out so…”

“Weak?” You scoff, picking up a thick book before reading its spine. “Yeah, my mom always said I was nothing like her. Hear that enough from somebody you can't stand, and you start being proud of it.”

Sevika blows out a breath, running a finger along the dusty shelf you stand next to. “I understand that more than you think.”

She bucked against her old man’s discipline for years. Fought her way out of the box he tried time after time to shove her in. Hard to believe, but there was a point in her life when she resembled you a bit too much.

But the world has a funny way of teaching you when the words of your parents fall on deaf ears. And teach her, it did.

“Regardless of what happened, I think we turned out alright.” You give her a small smile, expression absent in your eyes.

You turn back around to keep sorting through the books.

.

.

.

Another month goes by without incident. But with your mobility slowly decreasing, she finds herself at your feet more often than she ever expected to. Helping you with your socks and shoes, grabbing cookware from the bottom cabinet, picking up the items that you drop.

It's weirdly domestic.

One day, she wakes up to you plastered against her side, snoring into her shoulder, and she can't remember a life without you in it. That morning, she laid there for an embarrassingly long time just soaking up your warmth, the weight of your arm over her ribs, the leg tangled with hers.

She's fucked. No coming back from this. You’ve burrowed a place for yourself beneath all the rot, a speck of star in the expanse of midnight sky, and she doesn’t think you’ll ever dig yourself out. Doesn’t think she wants you to.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she steps into the doorway of her bedroom where you rest beneath the sheets of her bed. You've slept a lot the past few days, eaten your weight in the pastries she's brought home. Not that she minds—it means you feel safe.

“I'll be gone for a few days.”

She doesn't want to leave you, doubly so when fear washes over your face, leaves you wide-eyed and frowning from where your face sticks out of the blanket.

“Do you have to go?” you ask, voice so broken and pitiful that she almost says fuck it and sets her bag down to lounge with you the rest of the day.

Instead, she sighs out through her nose, eyes closing to block out your pleading expression. “I do. Important business.”

Doing Silco's dirty work. She doesn't tell you that, but you already know.

“Just be careful, okay? I gotta tell you about the book I've been reading when you get back.”

She nods, hovers in the shadows of her dark apartment for a long moment before reciting her usual rule: don't go out unless you need to. At this point, you can quote it right alongside her.

She stays long enough to commit your lazy smile to memory before dragging herself out the door.

While she's away, she takes the opportunity to look into her mystery man once again. Silco's late to their meeting, no doubt some bullshit with Jinx holding him up, but today, she's grateful for it. The conversation she overhears at the bar between two of Smeech's goons is just what she needs.

“—swear, I thought the kid was gonna shit himself.”

The man closest to her, face pockmarked with scars, laughs low and wheezing. “Shit, did he tell you why?”

“Something about this girl he knocked up. He's worried she'll try to use the kid against him.”

Her fingers tighten around her glass, the liquid inside untouched. She doesn't drink much these days, but she can still keep up appearances. Loose lips and all that.

The man beside her whistles, shakes his head. “Man, that's rough. He say what he was gonna do?”

“Well, he's gotta find the bitch first. Saw her at that market thing last month, so she's clearly alive.”

The muscles in her legs tense up to keep her seated, but she wants nothing more than to get up and smash the guy’s teeth out against the bar top.

“Bet somebody’s hiding her.”

Before she can act on it, they finish their drinks and leave, passing by her in a tipsy rush as they fuss over being late to wherever they’re going.

At least she has information to go on, something tangible for the first time in a solid month. There’s no doubt in her mind that you’re the bitch they refer to, and now she knows that he’s looking for you.

Fuck, she hopes you stay inside. She doesn’t want to have to tell you all this, to stress you out for the sake of the kid.

So she’ll have to stop by their hideout, have a little talk with the guys at the bar. It's been a while since she's had a good game of cat-and-mouse.

.

.

.

The next day, she returns to a cold, stale silence inside her apartment. Different than when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom when she gets home. Empty.

She checks the other rooms to make sure and, just like she suspected, you’re not here. Shoes no longer near the front door, jacket still thrown over the back of the couch, a dent taken out of the money she always leaves behind.

Panic. The first place her brain goes. Did you leave in a hurry? Were you in trouble? Had he already tracked you here?

This is exactly why she never wanted to get attached. Sevika is not irrational. The word has no business in her damn vocabulary, and yet here she is, pacing a hole in the floor, fucking up her hair with her fingers because you're not here and the Undercity is a big place and she has no idea where to even start looking.

But she has to start.

She leaves out the front door and beelines down the hallway, shaking the nerves from her hands. Just as she goes to exit the building, a hooded figure steps inside.

There's no mistaking the roundness of your belly, the shape of your body even beneath the familiar cloak draped over your shoulders (an old one she used to wear, left folded in the bottom of a drawer).

You spot her with a wide smile. “Sevika, hey—“

She strides up then pulls you into a hug, arms tight around your shoulders, and you squeak as the breath leaves you in a rush, a paper bag rustling in hand. You wrap your unoccupied arm around her waist, hood falling off the back of your head.

“Nice to see you, too.”

She pulls away and takes your face between your hands, brows pinching up in the center. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Don’t make me worry. Don’t make me think about you every moment I’m awake. Don’t make me care.

“What?” Confusion washes over your face, and you grasp at her wrist. “I just went to get food.”

Not what she’s talking about, but she doesn’t expect you to understand. Neither does she, really. The special place that she's sets aside for you in her heart.

Even without the similarities to your situation and her deepest regrets, she—

Well. That seems to be the problem. You're her second chance.

“Whatever, just… let's go.”

Admittedly, she's frustrated when she walks back to the apartment with you in tow. All that stressing for nothing. Deals with enough bullshit on a daily basis without adding you into the mix.

She collapses onto the couch, balances an elbow on the armrest, and worries a hand over her forehead. Bone-deep exhausted. It’s been a long two days.

You settle in next to her, plastered against her side, and open your paper bag. The smell hits her: pastries from the small bakery down the street.

“I got some berry muffins. Wasn’t sure what kind you like, so they gave me a variety.” Huh. How thoughtful of you. “You gotta be hungry.”

“I'm not.”

“Oh, don't be that way. You need to eat.” You hold up a muffin in front of her face, waving it around as if to entice her. “They're really good,” you sing, and she turns to glare at you.

“I'm not a baby.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

She takes the food from your hand with a huff and bites a large chunk out of it to shut you up.

Apple. Go figure.

“Good, right?”

Might be the best she’s ever had.

She shrugs. “I’ve had better.”

With a scoffing laugh, you shove at her shoulder. “Liar.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you eat. A dozen muffins gone in five minutes, so full you don't even want to move.

Sevika sighs. “So. How have you been?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.”

She hasn’t either. Can't sleep anymore without a warm weight against her back.

“What kind of nightmares?”

“The scary kind.” You rest your head on her shoulder, folding then unfolding the paper bag in your hands. “Just feel like something bad is gonna happen. I dunno.”

She can't tell you what she learned at the bar. You're still too skittish, too emotional to not freak out, and that's even more dangerous than being kept in the dark. At least you're safe with her, but she can't protect you if you decide to run off while she's gone.

She leans her weight against you, just enough to remind you that she's here. “If it does, we'll handle it.”

“What if you're gone?”

“Trust me. I'll know about it.”

Your cheek moves against her shoulder, and she looks over to find you grinning. “I'm so glad I'm not on your bad side.”

.

.

.

Venturing into Smeech’s territory is always an uncomfortable affair. The chaos is worse here, streets littered with trash and tossed-aside food and cigarette butts. Darker, too. Oppressive.

At least she knows the way to her destination. Stopped here a few times to swap information about one thing or another, and for the most part, the people she passes leave her be. She ignores the ones who don't.

When she steps inside the small building, the air fogs up with smoke so thick she heaves a cough. Packed with all types of people: working girls curled up in laps, soot-covered miners chatting at the bar, Smeech’s goons gathered around tables at the back. It only takes her a few moments of searching the crowd before she finds the pockmarked man from the bar, sat in the corner with two other men over a round of drinks.

She strolls up to the table and plops down in an unoccupied chair, and the men pay her no mind, still deep in conversation.

“Got a question for you boys,” she says, loud enough for them to hear over the crowd.

The one with the pockmarks snorts her way, taking a large gulp of his drink. “Who’s asking?”

“Me.” She leans forward when they turn to finally look at her, resting her metal arm atop the table. “I have some information one of your friends might be interested in.”

They all lean forward at that, setting their glasses down.

“Is’at right?”

“Heard from a little birdie that somebody’s looking for a pregnant girl. I know where she is.”

She’d never offer you up to them, but just the thought of their hands anywhere near you makes nausea broil in her stomach. Has to remind herself for a moment that this isn’t real. She’s playing pretend.

The pockmarked man slowly nods, gaze sharpening as he sizes her up. “Alright. Kid’ll wanna know that.”

“What’s his name? I can go find him.”

Hook.

“Or I can tell him for you.”

She shakes her head, face twitching into a grimace. “No can do. His ears only.”

Line.

He glares at her a long moment, tongue swiping over his teeth in some unnecessary display of bravado. One she doesn’t have time for.

With a disappointed sigh, she rises to her feet. Says, “No name, no information.”

And just as she goes to turn away—

“Alright, alright. Kid goes by Joker. Hangs out around The Smiling Jack. Know where that is?”

Sinker.

“I do.”

Easiest interrogation of her life. Barely worth the damn time it took to get here.

She leaves without turning back.

.

.

.

Sevika opens her eyes that morning and knows that something bad is gonna happen. Doesn't know what, or why, or how, but anxious dread settles like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

The feeling follows her throughout the day. Through her trip to the docks for a package, then to Silco's for its delivery, then down to the markets to settle a minor territory dispute. By the time she makes it back to Silco's office, she's exhausted yet wound-up. Expecting a fight with the unknown while fully unprepared.

The time comes when a bouncer creeps into his office, wide-eyed and wary. “Sevika. Hate to bother you, but there’s a girl downstairs wanting to talk to you. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

She already knows it’s you. Doesn’t even have to ask as she strides past him to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. And for you to be here, to leave the safety of her apartment past dark can only mean one thing: trouble.

It’s horrible timing. She has a meeting with Silco any moment, and here you are, huddled in the corner of the club, face shadowed by your hood. You look small, defenseless, ripe for the picking.

She stomps down the steps to the ground floor, people from the crowd staring as she crosses the room to meet you.

“What happened?” she asks, hand rising to rest on your shoulder as she looks you over for injuries.

You tremble beneath her touch, wide-eyed beneath the hood of her old cloak. “I went to the bakery to get some more muffins and these guys were standing outside the apartment when I walked out, and I noticed that they were following me but I didn’t know what to do so I went to the bakery anyway—“ you inhale a deep breath, growing more frantic as your story goes on, “and Tayla was there behind the counter. You haven’t met her but she’s really sweet and when I told her what happened she told me to hide in the back room until they left.”

You pause a moment to look around before continuing, “They stood outside for so long, to the point that I fell asleep at this desk they have in the office, and as soon as I woke up I came here.”

Sevika blinks. Tries to process the mountain of information you just gave her. So two men found out where you were staying, followed you to the bakery, then you came here.

Which means they could’ve followed you here. You can’t leave yet, not without her.

Stupid fucking meetings.

The hand on your shoulder squeezes to draw your attention back to her. “Listen. I've got a guy outside. Tell him you're with me, and he'll watch you until I'm finished here.”

One of Silco’s loyalists, a man she’s worked with countless times before. Hopefully, you know what to say. She doesn’t have time for a debrief.

“No, please–” You reach out to grab her, shaking hands tight around her wrist. “Please don't leave me.”

“I have to.” More than anything, she wishes she didn't. “Wait outside.”

She urges you toward the door with a gentle hand on your back, then heads back up to the office. Silco already sits in his chair when she strolls in, fingers tapping impatiently on his desk.

He scolds her for being late, and that’s the only thing she comprehends for the entirety of the meeting with you worming around in her skull. Something that happens more often these days.

You’re driving her crazy.

He can tell that she's distracted—as if it isn't the most obvious thing in the fucking world—but lets it go in favor of dismissing her once he's gone over the week's activities.

She doesn't hesitate to leave, bullying her way through the club, and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the man she secondhand entrusted you to tossing back drinks at a nearby table.

Her first mistake was thinking some asshole would actually do his job.

She drags him out of the chair by the collar of his shirt, the glass in his hand shattering on the floor. “You're supposed to be outside.”

He stutters, eyes widening in surprise. “I was! I just came in to get a drink.”

“Where's the girl?”

He squints up at her. Clearly had more than just a drink. “Huh?”

Her hand tightens around his collar. “The girl I told you to watch.”

“Shit, she’s fine! I left her right outside, next to the door.”

With a frustrated growl, she shoves him away and leaves for the alley.

The first thing she hears when she steps out the door is a hushed conversation:

Who have you told?

Nobody, I swear.

She turns the corner and spots two figures against the wall, one trapping the other with a hand on their face. No mistaking you.

“Long way from home, Joker,” she calls, boots thumping on the pavement.

A surprised laugh echoes off the walls as he releases you, stepping away to spread out his arms. “Sevika. I heard you were lookin’ for me. Also heard you've been walking around the Lanes with a little stray nipping at your heels.”

Her lips twist into a scowl at his mocking tone, and she glances over at you huddled against the wall, a shaking hand pressed to your cheek.

“Let’s get on with it,” she growls, prosthetic hand clenching into a fist at her side.

He stops. Shakes out his arms as spider-like fingers elongate, each metal joint bending back with a squeal as they separate into razor-sharp knives beneath the sleeves of his coat.

Huh. Never seen that before.

Sevika readies herself. Tosses her cloak aside and adjusts her stance, heart pounding against her chest, blood burning hot in preparation for a fight.

This is what you saw before he—

He propels himself forward, crossing the distance between them in an instant. She sidesteps at the last second, head twisting away from his clawing hand. But she isn’t quick enough. The needle tip of a finger cuts across her brow, a stream of blood catching on the corner of her eye.

They turn to face each other. Her focus narrows as she sizes him up, lets him back her away from the mouth of the alley while your form slowly fades into the shadows.

That’s it, asshole. Keep it coming.

“Why you running?” he asks, smile toothy and wide. “Is the big, bad Sevika scared?”

He lets his guard down, slightly rising from a crouch, movements quick but imprecise, stance novice-like. Cocky.

Boring.

She rushes him, her prosthetic fingers slotting between his claws and twisting, bending them back with a spark of light. Her other fist catches the edge of his jaw, a crack from her knuckles as he stumbles onto a knee, arm stretched out behind him from her grip on his mangled fingers.

She rectifies that by ripping them out. Tossing them behind her.

“Scared, am I?” she asks, skirting the range of those annoying ass knives to face him. “Get the fuck up.”

He stumbles to his feet in a rage, growling as he runs at her again. Stabs his arm out when she ducks under his slash but fails to turn his hip into the motion, leaving his left side wide open. Exactly what she needed.

It takes less than two seconds for her to block with her fleshy arm and plant her metal fingers between two of his ribs. To shove him back until he hits the wall, teeth bared as he growls and spits blood from his mouth. Yanks his hand in an attempt to dislodge his claws.

Thankfully, her forearm wasn’t impaled, but the blood pours down her bicep and shoulder. Cut all to shit.

She heaves a much-needed sigh to calm the pounding of her heart, wriggles her arm out of his hold and presses it to her stomach to stem the bleeding. “Congratulations. This was the most boring fight I’ve ever been in.”

Anticlimactic, really. She didn’t expect him to go down so easily after all that bravery. Look where his shit-talking got him.

She yanks out her prosthetic hand with a wet squelch, and he slides down the wall, gritting his teeth around a pained cry.

From the corner of her eye, she sees it: the swing of a pipe. She stumbles away before it can hit her, eyes wide as your form comes into view, your face contorted in pure rage. It meets the side of his head with a squishy thump, knocking him to the ground.

She steps out of the way.

You need this. An outlet for your pain, to give the finishing blow. Sevika did her part.

She lets you bludgeon him as she catches her breath, wiping her face off with the hem of her shirt. It’s a bloody affair, already drying on her prosthetic and clothes, and the spray of his blood covers you, too.

You, consumed by anger, screaming at him until your voice grows hoarse:

I fucking hate you.

You ruined my life.

Motherfucker. Asshole. Piece of shit.

When you start coughing, she looks over at you. Still going, kicking at him with an exhausted foot. His head isn’t even a head anymore, just a bowl for brain and blood and tissue. No coming back from that. Gone.

It’s over.

She steps in. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you back to her chest with little effort, smearing her blood on your shirt and skin. You struggle against her, wriggling beneath her hold, and she presses a cheek to your temple.

“Alright. Hey, it's done. You got him, honey.”

She scrubs a calloused hand up and down your arm because she knows the adrenaline crash well, and the way you collapse into her, chest heaving for breath, blares a warning that you’re already there.

Which is how she knows what comes next.

You rip free from her and stumble over to the wall, palms flat against the brick as you throw up and cough and heave until your lungs threaten to collapse.

Yeah. She doesn't miss those days.

She walks up to you as the pain of her injury finally blooms, and soothes a hand over your back as you brace your body against the wall, legs threatening to give.

“It’ll pass soon.”

You spit onto the pavement. Turn to glance up at her with red, teary eyes. “I’m aware.”

Still, the anger consumes you. She knows that feeling well. Shaped hers into a weapon, a default state of being after everything else failed her. Too bad that finally worked—anger is a hard emotion to shake.

You rest a hand over your stomach with a wet cough, turning to fully face her. “Fuck, I feel awful.”

“Water will help.” She holds out a bloody hand, and you take it, eyes empty and lifeless as you meet her stare. “Come on.”

She spares what’s left of Joker little more than a glance as the two of you pass by, but takes a moment to grab her cloak from the ground. He doesn’t deserve recognition even in death, and she shields you from the sight, steering you away with an arm across your shoulders.

The bouncers wave you inside, and she stops to tell them what happened. They’ll find somebody to take care of it. Always do.

She sits you down at an unoccupied corner of the bar where the shadows bleed deepest. You’re about to have a really bad time, and you deserve the privacy to unpack everything until she can get you home.

You down the cup of water she brings you in four big gulps, then hand it back and ask if she can bring you another. And then another, and another. After the third cup, she cuts you off. You’re no doubt one sip away from throwing up all over the floor.

She sits down beside you, a thick towel from the bar tied around her weeping arm. You’re bloody from head-to-toe, some hers but most his, glistening to an almost comedic extent beneath the flashing neon lights.

You stare ahead, blinking in thought. Calm.

Shock.

“I just killed someone.”

Back here, the music muffles, quieter than on the main floor. Don’t have to scream even when you sit right next to each other.

“You did.”

“I got you hurt.”

“He did.”

“I shouldn’t have come here. What if he killed you?”

She coughs out an amused laugh. “That prick? I’m insulted.”

You don’t laugh, or smile, or joke back with her. You just sit there, still as stone.

“I lied to you before.”

She pauses, leans in as your voice shrinks to hear over the vibrating bass. “About?”

“I did know him. We… we used to be friends, I guess, through his sister. I lived with her family after my mom died, and he was always really nice to me until… well. You know the rest.”

“So how'd you end up on the street?”

You swallow thick, eyes misting beneath the lights. “I tried to tell my friend what happened, but she didn't believe me. Said she knew her brother and he'd never do something like that.” You wipe a frustrated hand over your eyes. “She kicked me out. Didn’t even let me get my shit.”

Everything makes a lot more sense now. Why he was so adamant on finding you. Why you were in that alley in the first place. What the goons meant when he said you could use the kid against him.

Something inside her shatters. A crumbling of walls at the sight of you collapsing into sobs.

She wraps you up in an awkward side hug, arm exploding with pain, but she doesn't know what else to do. Can't say anything that would make the hurt stop.

.

.

.

The two of you are seated on the couch again. Hours out from a shower, teeth brushed, ready for bed. But neither of you can move from this spot. The soft cushions seek to swallow you up after the day you’ve had.

Nobody's ever brushed her hair for her. Maybe her mom when she was little. It's not like she'd actually let someone, but you're the first person to ever offer, and she’s so exhausted she took you up on it.

It’s nice. Nicer than she expected. You’re gentle about it, brushing from ends to roots, combing your fingers through each section afterward to make sure that all the tangles are out. She could fall asleep right now.

A tangible, piercing weight against the side of her face makes her turn her head. Your gaze tends to do that. Affection so thick it manifests into reality.

“Your hair looks pretty like this,” you say, soft and content.

“A mess?”

“Mhmm. You look a lot more relaxed.��

She shoots you an unimpressed look. “Haven't relaxed a day in my life.”

You set the brush down on the coffee table then cuddle closer to her, testing the boundaries of her personal space. She wants to say something, to push you away, but she's exhausted and—

And frankly, she doesn't fucking want to. You're warm and soft, and she needs that right now. The comfort, the companionship. Things she's deprived herself of for years, decades at this point. But there's not a fucking point anymore. You're bonded for life, share the blood on your hands of a man who deserved a fate worse than death.

Her eyes catch the swollen curve of your nose, the abrasion on your cheek, and she's ready to kill him again. She scrubbed the blood from beneath her nails hours ago, and yet she still feels it there, cloying and sticky.

She stares at you, brows pinching together, half-terrified and half-angry. “I don’t know how to be anything else besides this.”

Cold and cruel. A weapon of destruction. Lonely. A lot of very bad things.

“Then don’t.” You shrug, as if your solution is common sense. Easy. “But I think you want to be a worse person than you actually are. I mean, you saved me from that alley.”

“I almost left you there.”

“But you didn’t.”

She stares at you, eyes flickering over your features—the curve of your cheeks, the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. You hold no resentment, no anger for her admission. For a moment, she almost believes you.

“I wanted to.”

But you have no idea what kind of person she is. The shadows that haunt her.

”But you didn’t.” You lean in close, close enough for her to count your lashes, for the curve of your belly to press against her side, and she holds her breath. “And you buy me books, and cook me food, and put my socks on. You let me cuddle you. You make me feel better when I’m sad.”

Don't do this to me. Please don't do this. I can't take it.

Things weren't supposed to go like this. She did what she thought was right, and now her entire world has upended because of you. She's soft now, malleable with you around. It's dangerous. Could fuck up everything she's worked so hard for, the empire she helped build with the teachings from her old man.

You brush a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb caressing her skin just above the jagged cut on her eyebrow, so tender she could cry, and she blinks away the mist in her eyes as you smile—that same smile with your crescent-shaped eyes and full cheeks. So much fuller since she saw you that night in the alley.

She did that. Something so gratifying about watching you get better in her care.

Maybe you’re right.

“You’re good to me.” Her heart threatens to shatter her ribs, right hand fisting the fabric of her pants as you rest your palm on the curve of her knee. “I'm so glad for that. Glad I met you.”

So is she. Her life has meaning on a human-need level. Someone to come back to, that’s seen the worst in her and still chose to stay. A home that feels like home, with your little decorations laid out across the apartment, your own personal fingerprint that brings life to the space.

She doesn’t say and of that, though. Couldn’t form the words if she tried.

So she kisses you instead. Hopes you understand from the press of her mouth that the feeling is mutual and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

It's what you've been waiting for, coaxing her toward all evening. Pitiful little thing, so desperate for love that you settle for hers. All but worthless and you don't even know it yet, but a part of her knows that you wouldn’t care.

Once your lips meet, neither of you can stop. A crescendo of the last three months together—the eggshell-walking and the what-ifs, and she tried to prevent this for as long as she could, but she knows a thing or two about inevitability.

You kiss her like you love her, like you pour your soul into each flick of your tongue against hers. Sevika doesn't do things in quarters or halves, and neither do you. She understands that now. All or nothing.

Her metal hand cups the underside of your thigh, dragging you into her lap. You smell nice, ripe at the curve of your neck where she layers wet, sucking kisses. You whisper her name like a promise, comb scratching fingers through her hair, and she fights every cell in her body to keep from marking you with her teeth.

Not now. Not yet. Some time soon when you stop feeling like glass in her hands.

You grip the strands at the base of her skull, tilting her head back against the couch, and her lips spread into a salacious smile at the bite of pain in her scalp.

Seems her stray kitten has claws.

You fit your thumb inside her mouth, following the blunt underside of her front teeth. Back and forth, before you press against the wet heat of her tongue.

“So pretty,” you mutter, eyes lidded as they roam the features of her face, as if you’re seeing her for the first time.

She bites you. Just hard enough for you to jolt, a jarring scrape of her teeth against the fleshy pad of your thumb. You pull away in a fit of giggles, smacking her lightly on the right arm.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't call me pretty.”

Don’t let me be vulnerable.

“Then what can I call you?” You lean forward, mouth brushing along the curve of her jaw. “Beautiful?” A kiss just below her ear. “Handsome?” Another against the pulse of her neck.

Heat wells in the pit of her stomach at your words, at the kisses you trail down her neck and across the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

You sit back with a huff, lips twisted up in a pout. “Then I'll call you all of them.”

She rolls her eyes, response quickly ripped from her thoughts when you suck a rough kiss into her collarbone, and then the curve of her jaw, and then the column of her throat. A hand cradles the back of your neck as your hips grind against her, thumb following your thumping pulse.

“I'm sorry,” you pant into her shoulder, nipping her with your teeth, “but you're so pretty and it's been so long—”

She shushes you, lips ghosting against your temple. “Take what you need.”

You whine into her neck, shuffling your legs around to straddle a muscular thigh, and she curls a warm palm over the curve of your ass. Thicker here, too, filled out everywhere. You lean back, balance yourself with both hands on her knee, and rut your hips against the rough fabric of her pants.

You’re a sight to behold. Head thrown back to expose the column of your throat, full tits bouncing under your shirt with each pass you make over her thigh. The wet spot your cunt leaves behind drives her a little crazy, sunburst-hot between the legs. She wonders what you taste like, how tight you’d be around her fingers. How wet she can get you. How many times she can make you cum in a row.

How good she can make you feel.

“Needed this, didn't you?” she rasps, hands moving to your hips to help you build up a steady rhythm.

“Yes—“ You lift your head to look at her, head lolling on your shoulder, slack-jawed, brows tilted up in pleasure. “Fuck. Please.”

“I know.” She cups a hand over the back of your neck, eyes roaming over your face. (So pretty. So sweet. So soft.) “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t expect you to start crying. To nuzzle against her wrist and repeat the same two words over and over again:

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Her heart aches like a fresh bruise. You’ve suffered so much, more than she probably knows, and still, you’re good. Soft and sweet. Weak. Ill-fitted for the world of the Undercity.

You collapse forward with a ragged gasp, forehead fitting perfectly in the curve of her shoulder. Like you were made for each other.

(A good thing she found you then.)

Curled up against her, your body tenses, lungs seizing as you rock against her so hard the couch creaks.

And then everything stops. You breathe again, your muscles relax, you press a kiss to her lips that tastes like the salt of tears.

“Thank you,” you whisper, panting breath ghosting over her mouth.

She grins, hand soothing over the curve of your back. “Any time.”

You exhale a laugh, hiding your face in her shoulder. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“A little?”

“Stop. It’s embarrassing.”

“Quite the show, though.” The slick mess she’s made in her pants is proof of that. “I liked it.”

You whine, carefully rolling off her lap to the cushion beside her. “It’s not nice to tease people.”

“Do you know who you’ve been living with?”

You try to glare at her, though your venom is less potent with how fucked-out you look. Reminds her of the pent-up heat in the pit of her stomach.

She needs a damn shower—twenty minutes, hot water, and her imagination. A few good orgasms should do the trick.

“Do you want me to…” Your hand finds its way to the inner curve of her thigh, and her hips twitch in response, a silent invitation completely out of her control.

Not that she doesn’t want it (fuck, she does), but your eyes struggle to stay open, unfocused as you look up at her.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“I still want to.”

She shakes her head, curls her fingers around your wrist. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of it.”

“Can I watch?”

She rises to her feet with a hoarse laugh then pats you on the leg. “No. Bed.”

Twenty minutes, a stream of hot water, her imagination, and three orgasms later, she falls into bed beside you and promptly passes the hell out.

She wakes up beside you in nothing but a pair of underwear, face down against the sheets. Has no idea how she didn’t smother to death in her sleep.

When she turns her head, she finds you already awake with your nose in some book she brought home last week, lit by the morning sun that streams in through the window. Glowing. Beautiful.

Shit. She has it bad.

“Can I ask you something?”

At the sound of her voice, you smile, looking away from your book. “Of course.”

“You plan on keeping the kid?”

The first thing out of her mouth, a bit impulsive from the foggy remnants of sleep. A question she’s been wondering this whole time.

You wince like she's smacked you across the face, and she wishes she could take the words back. “Listen…” a heavy sigh, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel protective over her. It's not something I can even explain—”

“You don't have to.”

Your head drops, and you fiddle with the pages of your book. “Sevika, I don't have anybody. But I can… I can start over now, give her a good life. We don't have to run anymore.”

“You keep saying ‘her’.”

“She's a girl. I can feel it.” You look down at your belly, head tilting to the side as you give it a steady pat. “It's funny. I don't even know how far along I am.”

Sevika blinks. Never realized that she doesn't either. “Then you need a doctor.”

“Can't afford one.”

“I can.” She shrugs, as if her solution is common sense. Easy.

“I'm not gonna ask you to do that.”

She sits up with a pained groan (fuck, she needs to change her bandage) and ignores the way your eyes lock on to her bare chest. Bites back a teasing grin. “I offered. And besides, we gotta make sure the kid's okay.”

You look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky. “See what I mean? You’re so good to me.” A chaste kiss to her lips, the ghosting taste of cheap tea. “More than you realize.”

Maybe if you say it enough, she'll start to believe it.

Maybe a part of her already does.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

ACE CRIES IN HIS DREAM OHHHH THE DEVELOPMENT FOR ACE MY HEART HURTSSSSSS b4 ace would have deflected yuu going oh it was a joke when i said you can message me if you feel lonely and now b7 ace is actually being more honest going dont say that i'll feel bad MS RAVEN IM ALL OVER THE PLACE

AND NOT MOST OF THE BOYS' DREAMS REVOLVING AROUND THEM AND THEIR FAMILY/DORM MATES BUT ACE'S DREAM HERE IS LITERALLY ABOUT YUU??? U TRYNNA TELL ME SOMETHING??? OUGHHH MY HEART IS IN PAINNNNNN AND THE TANGLED EVENT COMING SOON THEYRE OVERFEEDING MEEEEEEE

[Referencing the JP Feb 2025 schedule; you can read my thoughts on book 7 chapter 12 part 2 here!]

I wasn’t expecting Ace to get a unique crying expression but here we are 😂 Pretty proud of myself for calling that Ace’s dream would address these oddly dismissive comments from back in 7-17:

It’s so Ace of him to be blunt when calling others out but also having trouble being honest about his own feelings. Those lines in 7-17 definitely read as deflecting and being in denial to me. That’s just how Ace chooses to cope with his problems.

You can even see this same mentality carrying through into his new crying expression… See? He’s still trying to smile and laugh, even through his tears. (Your one true love, by the way, is coincidentally described by Ace in Ghost Marriage as being “someone you can laugh and cry with”!)

fbskwbuwnsma I find it really funny how people were theorizing that Malleus would OB over the threat of Yuu going home when he ended up OBing over the thought of losing Lilia… Then it turns out that Ace is the one centering Yuu in his foremost desires 😭 I mean, I know Ace made that long trek back to Sage’s Island back in book 4, but so did Deuce and Deuce didn’t dream of Yuu staying—only Ace did. This is most likely the result of Ace not properly processing his feelings in the waking world (because of his deflection and denial), despite deep down valuing his friendships with Yuu, Deuce, etc.

Come to think of it, it makes sense that Ace’s dream ended up taking place during summer vacation on the Stitch island… because Stitch talked about ohana—family, which means no one gets forgotten or left behind. Ace’s dream is to be able to move forward (ie the summer after the end of their first year)… with all of his friends and NRC family. That includes his Heartslabyul classmates (yes, even his tyrannical dorm leader that he always complains about) and his friends at Ramshackle.

I can see why this would feed the brain rot of Ace yumes www It really slots in with the “I-It’s not like I care about you or anything, idiot! (jk I care so much)” kind of trope. And his dream taking place on a remote island screams “stereotypical beach fanservice episode”. Bro just keeps slotting in sk well with all the classics… Wishing all Ace yumes fun with this update ^^

[marvelseries19]

RETURN TO YOU

Chapter Four - Castaway

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter Four | Chapter five |

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x female agent reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You’re finally found. After years lost and alone, a faint signal is enough to bring someone to your island. You're brought home, weak, scared, and unsure if it’s real.

A/N: Finally, the moment you've been waiting for. I'm not entirely sure if this should be the end. I kinda have more ideas to tell, but maybe I'll post those as like one-shots or something. I wanted to thank you guys for letting me know that you liked it. I don't think I've ever had this much engagement on my fics. I really appreciate the love this one has had.

On another note, in the last chapter, I asked if you read this, and by this, I meant these messages, I leave here, not the chapter. So, once more, do you guys read these messages?? Also, as always, any questions, requests, ideas, and feedback are all welcome. Enjoy :)

Warnings: +18, descriptions of injuries and such.

Word count: 4.4k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours.]

The low hum of the SHIELD operations room barely registered as Maria Hill leaned over the dim console. The soft, rhythmic blinking on the screen in front of her was steady, consistent — unmistakable. A signal. Faint, primitive, but deliberate. Her fingers flew across the keys as she opened a secure channel.

"Get me Director Fury," she said, her voice low but urgent.

The line crackled before his voice came through, rough and clipped. "What have you got?"

Maria didn’t look away from the screen. "A signal. Old-school. Someone stripped a Quinjet transponder and spliced it into basic field tech. It’s broadcasting on an early SHIELD frequency — nothing sophisticated, but it’s clean. Repeating."

"That’s a long shot," Fury replied.

"Not if it’s her," Maria said, and there was something unshakable in her tone. "And I believe it is."

There was a pause. She could almost hear him weighing it in silence. Her eyes stayed on the blinking pattern, steady as a heartbeat.

"It’s the captain."

Fury’s silence stretched again — longer this time, heavier.

"You always did trust her instincts more than anyone else," he said eventually.

"She earned that trust," Maria murmured. And she remembered — the smoke, the fire, the chaos.

Kandahar.

—

The sky was dust-streaked and orange, gunfire painting the air in bursts. Agents scattered, wounded, shouting. No one had orders. The comms were fried. And then you appeared — ash-streaked, limping, blood on her sleeve, and calm in her eyes.

“We lost comms!” someone had yelled. “Do we pull back?! Where’s the fallback point?!”

Maria remembered how you didn’t hesitate. She remembered the way you moved — forward, always forward — as if gravity bent toward your conviction.

"With me," you said. That was all.

Two words.

And twenty agents followed you without looking back.

Maria hadn’t said it aloud that day — but someone else had. A younger recruit, clutching his rifle and running to keep up: “Captain’s got us.”

The name stuck.

—

Maria exhaled softly, her eyes never leaving the console. "She pulled twenty agents out that night. Half of them wouldn’t be here without her," she said quietly.

"Is she still alive, Hill?" Fury asked.

"She sent that signal," Maria replied. "I know it's her, and that’s all I need to know."

"Take a team," Fury ordered. "Get her back."

Maria was already on her feet. "Already working on it."

She shut the console off, leaving the weak, blinking signal behind — but only for a moment.

She would follow it. All the way to the end.

—

The quinjet dipped below the clouds like a shadow cutting through the sky, its engines whisper-quiet over the dense canopy below. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting streaks of gold and fire across the endless stretch of green.

Maria stood near the loading ramp, arms crossed, eyes scanning the horizon as if she could will the trees to part and reveal a miracle.

She’d barely slept on the flight over, fingers tight around the datapad that showed the narrowing coordinates. Each pass of the satellite brought them closer. Each sweep of the low-band signal narrowed the window.

Still, it felt like a dream.

Three years.

Three years with no trace.

Three years of dead ends, quiet funerals, and trying to help Natasha through a grief Maria shared but didn’t dare speak aloud.

And now this.

A single echo. A half-broken signal from a beacon no one was supposed to remember how to use.

She hadn’t told Natasha. Couldn't. Not yet.

Hope, Maria had learned, was dangerous when it burned too bright. And she wouldn’t be the one to light it unless she was sure. She had seen firsthand what it did to her friend , how it tore her apart each time a lead turned out to be false. Maria needed more than a faint signal to give Natasha false hope.

The quinjet hovered over the narrowed location, nestled between cliffs and jungle, and the team fast-roped down in practiced silence. Maria followed, landing with a solid thud against the uneven earth.

It was still. Too still. But the readings didn’t lie. Someone was here.

She signaled for the group to split. “Fan out. Sweep the perimeter. Eyes sharp. Weapons down unless you see a threat.”

A chorus of affirmatives crackled through comms.

They moved.

Not far away, tucked in the hollow between two rocks and overgrowth, you stirred.

The sound had been faint — a low thrum, like distant thunder.

It came again, closer this time.

You sat up slowly, your body protesting every movement. Your limbs ached. Your head spun. Your skin had taken on the leathery feel of too much sun and too little water. The weakened body you lived in now barely resembled the one that once trained at SHIELD’s academy. The one that flew the quinjet with quiet confidence. The one that could disappear without leaving a trace.

You had survived.

But barely.

You blinked hard, pressing your fingers to your ears.

Voices.

Were those voices?

You crouched low, instinct taking over even as your knees buckled beneath you. The sound of boots brushing leaves. A sharp rustle of brush being moved aside. You bit the inside of your cheek.

It’s nothing. You’ve imagined things before. You’d seen shadows become people. Branches become outstretched hands.

But the voices were growing louder now. Clearer.

“Check the cliffside—Hill’s got east.”

“There’s a trail here—looks like something’s been walking through.”

“Signal strength increasing. It’s close.”

No. No, that was real. That wasn’t just your mind trying to comfort you again. That was real.

Still, your body didn’t move. Not yet.

You sat frozen, heart pounding, as footsteps closed in.

And then—

“Hey!” a voice called. Not a hallucination. Sharp. Solid. Commanding. “I’ve got something—!”

Then another voice. Lower. Familiar. Too familiar.

“Stand down, it’s her—God—” The foliage parted, and there she was.

Maria.

Your mind couldn’t process it all at once. She was wearing tactical black, hair pulled back, eyes scanning like she didn’t dare believe what she was seeing.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything—but nothing came out.

Maria dropped to her knees, her voice thick and trembling. “Hey, hey—it's okay. It's me. I’ve got you.”

You blinked again, too weak to flinch as her hands gently framed your face.

Her breath caught. “Jesus… you’re really here.”

You tried to speak, lips cracked, throat dry. Only a rasp escaped.

Maria shook her head, a soft curse under her breath. She slipped an arm around your shoulders, guiding a canteen to your lips. “Don’t talk. Just drink.”

The water stung going down, but you drank like you hadn’t in days.

Because you hadn't. Rainwater could only last for so long.

Maria kept holding you, one hand steadying the canteen, the other pressed lightly against your back as if reassuring herself that you were solid. Real. Not another ghost.

And then she whispered, almost like she didn’t want anyone else to hear, "I'm so sorry it took this long.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You didn’t want to cry. Not yet. Not when it felt like the moment could vanish if you blinked.

But Maria didn’t rush. She stayed there with you in the dirt, surrounded by jungle, brushing a hand gently through your tangled hair.

“You’re safe now,” she said softly. “We’re taking you home. I’m gonna make sure of that. And I’ll tell her—I’ll tell Natasha.”

You didn’t know if it was the relief or her voice, but that’s when the sob broke free.

And Maria, strong as ever, just held you tighter.

The team moved quickly once they found her.

You were conscious, your body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline as they guided you through the undergrowth. The sight of the quinjet waiting on the shore hit you harder than expected.

Your steps faltered.

The air caught in your throat.

It looked almost exactly like yours—the one that went down in flames, the one that left you stranded and alone. Your chest tightened, breath hitching, muscles locking up as memories flashed behind your eyes. Fire. Smoke. The sound of metal tearing. The impact.

You stopped walking.

“Hey,” Maria’s voice was calm and soft. She stepped in front of you, eyes steady, hand gentle on your shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re taking you home.”

You shook your head weakly, barely audible when you said, “I can’t… I can’t get on that thing. I know it’s stupid, but—”

“It’s not stupid,” Maria cut in, her voice rough with emotion. “After what you’ve been through, it makes perfect sense.”

Your eyes were glassy, full of apology and fear you couldn’t quite name. “I want to go. I just… I can’t.”

Maria glanced at the medic nearby, nodding once.

“We’ll help you sleep through the ride, okay?” she said, already crouching down with her. “No pain. No panic. You’ll wake up at the medical facility. Safe. I promise.”

You gave her the faintest nod, your fingers still gripping Maria’s sleeve like an anchor.

Maria stayed close as the medic prepped the injection, gently brushing damp hair back from your forehead. “You did so good, alright? You held on. We’ve got you now.”

The sedative took hold quickly, easing your breathing as your eyes fluttered shut. Maria caught you carefully as she slumped forward, guiding her into the medic’s arms and onto the stretcher.

And as the engines spun up and the quinjet lifted into the sky, Maria sat beside you, phone already in her hand, staring down at Natasha’s name on the screen.

It was time.

The quinjet hummed around her, steady and familiar. Maria sat strapped in beside the stretcher, her eyes drifting to you every few seconds — as if making sure she was still there, still breathing, still real.

You looked so small.

So fragile.

And it shook Maria more than she wanted to admit. This woman, who once sparred with her until both of them limped off the mat laughing… This woman who had stood beside her through firefights and missions no one else could have survived… Now she lies wrapped in blankets, sedated, ribs visible under her skin, lips cracked from dehydration.

Maria swallowed hard. She stared at the screen for a long second before finally pressing the contact.

The call connected after two rings.

“Maria?” Natasha’s voice came out sharp, tight. Tired. Like she’d been running or not sleeping again. “Is something wrong?”

Maria’s breath caught. “Natasha…”

Something in her tone made Natasha go completely still on the other end.

“We found her,” Maria said softly.

Silence.

“I need you to meet me at the SHIELD medical facility in New York. We’re bringing her in now. She's alive, Nat. She's—she's not in good shape, but she’s alive.”

Natasha didn’t answer at first. Just a breath — hitched, broken — and then, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve got her right here with me.” Maria looked over again, lowering her voice instinctively. “She held on. Three years, and she never gave up.”

There was a long pause. When Natasha spoke again, her voice cracked.

“I’ll be there.”

—

The city blurred past the tinted windows of the SUV, but Natasha barely saw any of it.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Every red light felt like a personal attack. Every second that passed without her at that facility made her heart pound harder in her chest.

You were alive.

Alive.

It didn’t feel real.

She had imagined this moment too many times — always in dreams, in cruel fantasies her mind would conjure when sleep finally took her. But this wasn’t a dream. Maria had called her. Maria had sounded shaken. That never happened.

Alive.

Natasha’s breath caught again, her throat tight with something she couldn’t name — hope, disbelief, fear. She didn’t even realize tears had started to run down her cheeks until they hit her jaw. She didn’t wipe them away.

Three years.

Three years of not knowing. Of waking up and reaching for someone who wasn’t there. Of closing her eyes and hearing your laugh, only for silence to greet her. Of rage. Of grief so heavy it felt like a second skin.

And now… you were back.

But at what cost?

She kept replaying Maria’s voice in her head. Not in good shape. Those four words sliced deeper than anything else. Natasha had seen the aftermath of war. She had seen what being stranded did to a person, physically and mentally.

What if you didn’t remember her? What if the pain of those years had buried the part of you that knew her name? What if the reunion she’d dreamed of — clung to — was nothing like the reality waiting for her?

The driver turned sharply, and Natasha gritted her teeth, leaning forward.

“How much longer?”

“Five minutes, ma’am.”

Not fast enough.

She closed her eyes. Forced herself to breathe. One hand unconsciously reached for the ring still looped through the chain around her neck — your ring — warm now from her skin.

She didn’t know what she’d find when she walked into that facility.

But for the first time in three years… she had something to walk toward.

You.

—

The quinjet touched down with a soft thud on the rooftop pad of the SHIELD medical facility.

Before the engines had fully powered down, the med team was already waiting — gurney prepped, portable monitors ready, gloved hands reaching for the ramp before it even dropped.

Maria stood to the side, out of the way but not detached. Her jaw was clenched, arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if holding herself together. She hadn’t said much since the sedation. Only that she’d call Natasha again once they landed. But she didn’t need to. The call had already been made. Natasha would be here soon. She knew it.

The second the hatch opened, the team surged forward.

You were still unconscious — sedated, peaceful in the worst way. Your skin looked pale under the harsh facility lights, your body far too light as they transferred you to the gurney. The bruises, the cuts, the ribs pressing too close to the surface — it was all too visible now.

Monitors were clipped to your finger, an oxygen mask gently pressed to your face, and soft commands echoing between the medics:

“Get her on fluids, stat.”

“We need a CBC and a full metabolic panel.”

“Chest X-ray, abdominal ultrasound.”

“She’s dehydrated; start with normal saline, keep it slow.”

The medics disappeared down the hall with you, swift and practiced, the sound of their shoes a controlled blur of movement.

Natasha had just stepped into the hallway when she saw them roll the gurney past.

She stopped mid-step.

Time halted.

You.

There. Real.

But not awake. Not smiling. Not whole.

Her hand went to the wall to steady herself. Her breath left her in a sharp, silent exhale. She couldn’t move.

Maria stepped in beside her, watching the hallway where the doors had just swung closed behind the gurney. “She’s stable. Vitals are holding. They’ll take care of her.”

Natasha didn’t speak. Her eyes hadn’t moved from that door.

A nurse came around the corner holding something small and delicate in a gloved hand. She looked between them before gently addressing Natasha.

“She was wearing this,” she said softly, offering the chain.

Natasha reached out slowly, her hand trembling as she took it.

Your ring. Still looped through the chain she gave you three years ago.

She held it tightly in her fist, pressing it to her lips like a prayer.

Maria watched her quietly. “She survived,” she whispered, more to herself than to Natasha. “She actually survived.”

Natasha’s voice cracked when she finally spoke, low and hoarse. “She wasn’t supposed to.”

Down the hallway, machines beeped. Doors swung. A medical team did everything they could to stabilize you — rehydrate, monitor, and evaluate. You didn’t stir, but you were alive.

That was all that mattered.

For now.

It felt like hours.

The sterile hallway never changed, but Natasha hadn't moved from that same spot. She leaned forward in the plastic chair, elbows on her knees, fingers still curled around the chain holding your ring. The weight of it was nothing — and everything.

Maria had stayed close, pacing occasionally, making a few quiet calls, but mostly giving Natasha space. There were no words left to say.

Finally, a doctor emerged from behind the double doors. He looked tired but calm.

“She’s stable. Fluids are working, and her bloodwork came back cleaner than we expected. Malnourished, yes. Exhausted, definitely. But no infection, no internal injuries beyond the obvious bruising, and a few injuries that didn't heal properly, but nothing to worry about. We sedated her gently. She might wake up soon.”

Natasha stood the moment the doctor nodded toward the room. “Can I see her?”

“Yes. Just for a few minutes, and keep it quiet. She’s been through a lot.”

Natasha didn’t answer. She was already moving.

—

The room was dim and quiet, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound. You were there, lying so still under the soft white sheets, a faint oxygen tube at your nose, IVs at your side.

Natasha stopped at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t ready. She’d pictured this moment a hundred different ways over the past three years. None of them came close.

You looked like you and not like you — thinner, paler, yet tanned, your hair longer and tangled in places, and skin marked with sun and wear. But it was you.

Carefully, Natasha stepped closer, lowering herself into the chair beside your bed. She didn’t speak. She just watched. Studied your face. Every part of her wanted to reach out — but she couldn’t bring herself to disturb the fragile stillness.

She opened her hand. The ring glinted dully in the light.

“I never stopped wearing it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Never took it off. Not once.”

Her fingers curled gently around your hand, the one not bound by tape and tubing. You were warm. Not cold. Not gone.

“I should’ve been with you,” she whispered. “I should’ve—”

But she couldn’t finish.

Her breath caught, and for the first time in years, Natasha Romanoff let her shoulders fall and her head bow beside the woman she never stopped loving.

She stayed like that. Until the rhythm of your heart monitor seemed to slow into something steadier. Familiar.

Until maybe — just maybe — she felt your fingers twitch beneath her own.

Natasha’s eyes remained fixed on you, but her mind had drifted. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, nor how many times she had muttered those quiet, broken words — promises, apologies, confessions — to the room, to the air, to you.

The weight of everything she hadn’t said was finally crashing down on her, more than she could have prepared for. The years without you, the months of pretending she could go on without even knowing where you were, the guilt that had gnawed at her every waking moment, the hopelessness she buried deeper each day. It had always felt like she was waiting for something — waiting for the call, the news, anything that would bring you back into her world. She couldn’t breathe without the thought of you, couldn’t focus on anything with your absence hanging like a shadow.

But here you were, lying in front of her, fragile and yet still alive.

Alive.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the ring, the very symbol of everything she’d almost lost forever. The years had worn away at its luster, but it still gleamed, faintly — a promise. She had thought she’d never see you again. She thought she’d have to carry this unfulfilled promise forever.

And yet, here you were.

Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall. She wasn’t going to cry. She couldn’t. Not here, not now, when you needed her more than ever.

"I promised you I’d come for you," she whispered, her voice rough. "I promised."

She held the ring in her hand as if it could reach you — as if it could bridge the gap between her pain and your absence. She was scared, more than she cared to admit. Scared of how you might feel when you woke up. Scared of what you might remember. Scared of how fragile this moment was — of how fragile you were.

Her hand moved slowly to the side of your bed. She didn’t want to disturb you, but she couldn’t stop herself. The need to be close to you was overwhelming. The need to feel that connection — that spark of life that had once been so familiar, so undeniable between you.

“I couldn’t live without you,” Natasha whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I won’t let you go again.”

For a moment, she simply sat there, eyes closed, listening to the steady rhythm of your breath. The world outside the room seemed distant and cold — nothing mattered except the space between her and you, the fragile space that had once been filled with shared laughter, quiet mornings, and stolen moments.

The steady beep of the heart monitor seemed to echo in her mind, a reminder that you were here, that you were real, that you were alive. But what was left for the two of you now? Could things be the same after all that had happened? Natasha didn’t know. All she knew was that she couldn't—wouldn't— let you slip away again.

The door creaked softly, and Maria stepped in, her expression quiet but understanding. Natasha didn’t look up. She didn’t want anyone else in this moment, but Maria’s presence was a grounding force — a reminder that Natasha hadn’t been completely alone through all of this.

“She’s going to be okay,” Maria said, her voice gentle but firm. “She’s a fighter, Nat.”

Natasha didn’t respond, her eyes never leaving you. She wasn’t ready for anyone’s reassurance. Not yet.

Maria waited for a moment, then sighed softly. “I’ll give you some time. Just… don’t do this alone. Not again.”

But Natasha didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how to explain the ache in her chest, the heaviness that had been there for years. There was no way to put it into words.

She only nodded silently, her gaze never wavering from your sleeping form. And in that silence, Natasha finally let herself hope again. Not just for your safety, but for something more. Something she had almost forgotten how to believe in.

She wasn’t alone anymore. Neither of them was.

—

The first thing you felt was the weight of your own body. The heaviness of skin and bone sinking into the sterile softness of hospital sheets. The dull ache beneath the surface of everything. But more than that, it was the quiet hum of machines, the faint beeping of a heart monitor, and the sterile scent of antiseptic that confirmed it — you weren’t on the island anymore.

You were safe.

That realization alone felt unreal.

Your eyelids fluttered, the light above muted through lashes you struggled to lift. The world came back to you in pieces — sound, then shape, then color. The sharp clarity of a cold IV line in your hand. The warmth of a blanket pulled up to your chest. The dull echo of a familiar voice.

It was the last one that made your heart stutter.

Natasha.

She was sitting beside you. Tired. Still. Her posture held together by force alone, like she hadn’t moved in hours — maybe longer. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her entire body leaned ever so slightly toward you, as if afraid you’d vanish if she didn’t stay close.

You blinked slowly, and her eyes found yours in an instant.

The breath she let out was shaky. You saw it — the moment she shattered just a little more but also held herself together just enough to stay strong for you.

“…hey,” she whispered. Her voice was raw, barely a sound at all. But her eyes were full — of grief, of relief, of everything she hadn’t dared let herself feel until now. “You’re here.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. You tried again — your voice rasped and cracked, dry and weak.

“…Hi,” you whispered.

Tears welled up in her eyes immediately. Natasha leaned forward, slowly, cautiously, her hand brushing your arm like she needed to touch you to believe this was real. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Weeks. Maybe years.

“I didn’t think…” you started, the words struggling to form.

“I know,” she said, voice tight. “Me neither.”

Your eyes darted around, and that’s when you saw it — sitting on the table beside a vase of white flowers, looking oddly solemn in the sterile light — was Red. Your Red. The coconut you once talked to when you were losing hope, when your voice was the only one on that island. Someone had even propped it up with a little folded towel beneath it like a throne.

You stared at it, blinking again, and then let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob.

“Red made it?”

“Maria made sure of it,” Natasha said with a hint of a smile, though her voice was still breaking. “Said she’d have murdered her entire team if they left him behind. Apparently you muttered its name after they sedated you.”

Your throat burned. Everything hurt. But Natasha’s presence eased something inside of you that had been coiled tight for years. She looked at you like she was scared you’d disappear if she blinked. And you looked at her like she was the first warmth you’d felt in forever.

You reached for her hand, slowly, shakily. She took it before your fingers even fully stretched toward her.

“You waited,” you said softly.

“I would’ve waited forever,” Natasha whispered back.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was full — of all the words you didn’t need to say, of the pain that was finally beginning to thaw, of the bond between you that had never broken, even after everything.

Even after all this time.

You closed your eyes again, not to sleep — just to rest. Just to breathe. Just to be.

With her hand in yours and Red by your side, for the first time in a long time… you believed everything might be okay.

----

TAGLIST: @womenarehotsstuff @seventeen-x @ctrlaltedits @ciaoooooo111 @unexpected-character @redroomgraduate @natsaffection @cheekysnake @viosblog112 @riyaexee @lilyeyama @idontliketoread2127 @ima-gi--na-tion @sunny-poe @artemisarroxvolkov @hotcocoandonuts @scarletsstarlets @splatashaswife

[arminsumi]

S. Geto ★ Adult Store | 3

★ Chapter index | Part 1 | Part 2

★ Synopsis : Sooo... his apartment. At six. Sex. No toys. Just you and him. Sound good?

★ Warnings : 18+ content, smut, semi-public m*sturbation (at work), sexting, exchanging nudes, dirty talk, creampie, cunnilingus, toys, solo male m*sturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, wet dreams, mentions threesome with Satoru, "sl*t"

Home | Library | Geto works | Reblog for a cake slice! 🍰

"Just like that... I'm so close."

Suguru moaned your name to himself and rolled his head back, pumping you full of his sensitive cock. He was so close to blowing inside your soft pussy.

But just before his wet dream got to the good part, he woke up. Grumbling awake, he felt sticky precum smeared on his inner thigh. So much had dribbled out his cock while dreaming of you. He nearly came in his sleep.

Hardly giving himself time to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes, he rolled over to grab his phone. Seeing your morning message made his lips curl into a smile.

📨 1 NEW

You: morningg 🥱 Suguru: morning pretty girl Suguru: i woke up a bit too excited 🙈💦 You: aw hope you dreamed of me Suguru: i did [IMG] You: needdd 🤤 the curve ahh Suguru: bet you wish it was inside you huh 🖤 You: yes pls You: so excited for tonight. i can't think about anything but you

Suguru got butterflies.

His head got foggier, and his boner was still throbbing hot against his inner thigh. Your texts got spicier, so he lazily squeezed and jerked his cock through his pants while struggling to reply with one hand.

Suguru: i'll buy extra condoms just in case You: oh... dw i'm on birth control Suguru: oh? 🙈 what are you suggesting...? You: you can cum inside me 🤍

Suguru let out a shuddery moan and accidentally came in his pants.

****

Work was slow. The adult store was quiet for most of the day. Suguru lazed around and texted you.

Suguru: this one's also a best seller atm [IMG] You: wow i wouldn't even suspect that to be a toy 😂 what is it? Suguru: it's a suction pulsation toy. you put it on your clit. You: oh? 😵‍💫 hmm sounds fun but i'd prefer your tongue Suguru: 2 more hours left of work 🥲 You: 😔💔 Suguru: glad the store is quiet tho. i'm too horny to work. You: me too. i keep squeezing my thighs together when i see your texts. you got me all sensitive and you're not even here lol Suguru: aw you should have brought a toy with to help calm you down You: yeah 😔 rlly tempted to just take a bathroom break Suguru: you could just rub yourself under your desk 👀 You: only if you guide me through it 🤍

Suguru raised his brows and felt his cheeks warm up a little. He glanced around the store. Quiet. Not a single customer had entered for over an hour.

Suguru: stroke your middle finger up and down your pussy Suguru: very gently make it almost ticklish You: okay 🤍 Suguru: cup and squeeze it too for me pretty girl Suguru: how's it feel? You: really goodd 🤤 Suguru: yeah i bet. Suguru: rub circles on your clit nice and slow. just take your time. You: okayy You: this is rlly risky 🥺 Suguru: but you're turned on aren't you? You: yess Suguru: slut 🖤

Your clit got puffier and more sensitive as you started following Suguru's instructions over text. Every now and then you had to stop for fear of someone spotting you getting off under the desk.

Your chat with him got filled with spicier messages. Suguru kept turning you on more and more, making your clit buzz.

Work? What work? It was playtime.

Suguru: good girl. don't worry about anything just get those panties wet for me. You: are you stroking yourself too 🥺 Suguru: mhm. wanna see? You: yes please Suguru: [IMG] Suguru: all for you 🖤 You: omg You: need you inside me so bad :( Suguru: uh huh bet it sucks to clench around nothing You: meanie You: go faster with me please

He'd abandoned the checkout desk and went for a "bathroom break". Suguru stroked himself faster, imagining you touching yourself with him drove him wild. And the fact you were doing it under your desk while at work?

Suguru: i'm close 🖤 You: me too please cum with me Suguru: ok pretty girl. let's cum together.

His heart fluttered at your message, and he quickly felt his orgasm build up in his cock. Suguru threw his head back and bit his lip to hold in his moan while cumming a thick load.

Suguru: oops i made a mess brb You: lol 😂 Suguru: was it good? You: really good 🤤 thank uuu Suguru: mhm. see you later 🖤

****

He was practically shaking from desire while making out with you against his apartment door; moaning into your mouth then sucking on your tongue, eagerly squeezing your hips with his veiny hands.

He was breathless, "G—good to see you." he said.

"Y—yeah. Good to see you too." you replied.

He had you pinned against his front door. Yup, immediately after having arrived at his doorstep and walking in, the two of you just lunged for each other like two pathetically horny people.

He felt delightfully dumbed by the sexual friction between you and him. His hard-on pressed flush against your body, you could feel him already leaking precum.

You kissed, he backed away playfully. You followed. Then he kept backing away to tease you.

"Are you luring me like a fish?" you chuckled.

"Yeah..."

He backed into his bedroom door and opened it swiftly.

Leaning down to kiss you, his hands cupped under your ass and felt it up while you slid your hands under his shirt.

"Take this off, please."

"Take it off yourself." he teased.

Suguru's tummy flipped when you took his shirt off. Your eyes caught on his pecs and he noticed, so he took your hand and placed it on them.

You were a little taken aback. A shyness showed on your expression as you felt how firm his body was.

"Don't be shy; touch wherever you like. Just feel my body."

"But I'm kinda..." you giggled shyly.

"Shy? It's okay, I'll fuck the shyness out of you soon enough." he said.

Yeah, you'll be too full of my dick to be able to think, let alone be shy.

****

While he rubbed his cockhead through your slit, his stomach tensed up in excitement.

Fuck, and there I was just telling her not to be shy... and now I'm so fucking nervous. What the hell... why does it feel like I'm losing my virginity all over again?

Suguru prepped you a bit more, he slid his fingers into your hole and stimulated your G-spot with ticklish circles.

Finally sinking his needy cock inside you felt like heaven. He slid in a few inches deep, and shuddered at the feeling of your shape, the ridge and texture, the little squeezes of your walls.

"It’s not too big for you, right?" he asked caringly.

"N—no."

Nah. She's gotta be lying. I can feel her cunt struggling to take me.

Yeah, you were lying — he was so thick that the stretch was all you could focus on. Your lips formed an erotic O shape, expression turning slutty even though he wasn't even bottomed out yet.

"You sure?" he smirked down at you, two veiny hands at either side of your hips, denting the bed with his weight.

Suguru inched inside until you gasped.

"Fuck! Oh that's — mmm! — big!"

Suguru groaned softly, feeling your ring of muscle constrict around him. He slid in and out slowly to get his cock soaked.

"I don't know if I can take it..." you moan.

His cock curved up into your G-spot and you let out a shuddery moan.

"Don't worry. I'll stretch you out." he purred before giving you a hard kiss. "Just hold onto my arms."

****

“Fuck! Right there!” you screamed into the pillow.

Suguru softly grunted and focused his eyes on the sight of his cock moving in and out of your pussy. You fisted your hands into the messed up bedsheets.

When he felt his orgasm start to build up, he suddenly pulled out of you.

“Nooo, put it back in!” you cried, kicking your feet.

“Just a second, baby.” he murmured sweetly.

He smirked down at you and planted a hard slap on your ass, causing you to jolt forward and groan.

Sliding back in made him momentarily close his eyes, because your walls hugged him so perfectly.

“Mmm!” you kicked your feet around again when he started up his thrusting again.

Suguru wasn’t merciless with how he fucked you into the mattress, but he really wanted to be. He was holding back so hard just to make sure you could enjoy yourself completely.

Sometimes he’d start pounding into you and then self-consciously eased off when he heard you whimpering.

“Are you okay?” he giggled into your ear.

“Y-yes! Do that again, please.”

He flipped you onto your back and pushed your legs back, splitting them wide open for him.

****

Suguru fucked you into a quick orgasm and his own followed immediately after he felt your pussy milking his cock.

“Oh my god…” he giggled into the crook of your neck, “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d last longer than that…”

You laughed with him. Suguru hovered over your back, his bangs dangling over his eye, and he kissed from your shoulder down middle of your back. His two hands roughly grabbed and pried apart your ass cheeks, thumbing into your creampied pussy. Some of his cum dribbled out.

You hummed and wiggled your ass for him.

Fuck. I think I just fell in love.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked softly.

“Yes please. I feel so wet and sticky.” you laughed.

He smacked your ass again and slowly slid off the bed, scouring for your panties before his boxers. He helped you slide them back on.

****

While you went off to shower, Suguru dressed up and went into the thin kitchen.

He checked his phone.

📨 3 NEW

Satoru: stop ignoring me hoe Satoru: ARE U GUYS STILL HAVING SEX OMG IT’S BEEN 3 HOURS??? Satoru: WTF KINDA STAMINA DOES SHE HAVE Suguru: lol u sound lonely Satoru: omg finally 😿 Suguru: i think i wanna marry her 😔 Satoru: WAHT WAS IT THAT GOOD???? Satoru: UR STILL MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT?? Suguru: yes Satoru: is she down for a threesome???? 👀 Suguru: wtf satoru 😂 Satoru: JOKING 🙄🙄 ask her tho Suguru: i'm blocking you Satoru: babyyy don't b like this!! sharing is caring!! 😍 Suguru: 😑

****

When you got out the shower and clothed yourself, you smelled something good cooking. Suguru wasn’t in the bedroom anymore, so you went to the kitchen.

The tiny round table by the window was dressed up with a white cloth and a single candle in the center.

“What’s this, a dinner date or something?” you asked.

“Yeah, well, I just I thought you might be, uh, hungry…” he said shyly. “… after all that exercise, you know.”

You gave him a flirty look, then sat down to eat.

****

He was giggling hard. His cheeks were hot.

“So, what’s for dessert?” that’s what you had asked to fluster him.

“What if I eat you out right here on the table?” he suggested, and you both went silent.

Suguru tilted his head at you and waited for your response.

Your response? Spreading your legs on the table for him, of course.

Suguru nuzzled his face deep between your thighs, dark hair tickling your skin.

He placed worshipping kisses on top of your pussy, then swiftly stripped your panties off. They dangled on your ankles while he nosed in your pussy, kissing and licking it like it was his dessert.

Of course, Suguru Geto was the type of boy to get hard from going down on a girl. His cock pulsed and twitched in his loose sweatpants.

You gasped when he sucked on your clit and nudged it with his tongue.

He looked up at you through his messy hair, sharp eyes observing your reactions to his skilled-tongue fucking. Your juices gushing down his chin drove him nuts.

“Oh, shit that’s good!” you cried, grabbing a fistful of hair and eliciting a moan from him that you felt vibrating on your clit.

He gasped for a breath, pulled away momentarily but then dove right back in as if he didn't need air as desperately as he needed pussy.

As soon as you started squirming around, Suguru hooked his arms around your body to keep you firmly in place.

His back muscles flexed while he ate you out. Yes, his knees hurt a bit from kneeling on the tiled kitchen floor for an hour, but it was worth it to get you squirting all over his pretty face.

Suguru withdrew from your pussy and wiped the streak of your juices off his cheek with a swipe of his thumb.

“Thanks for dessert.” he murmured, “Tasted really good.”

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Please message my inbox or comment on this fic to be added/removed to the taglist for updates.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[hrtwayne]

Safe & Sound || Alexia Putellas

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses Wife!Reader

Summary: Where Alexia and her wife knew that adopting a child and a teenager would have its difficult moments.

Note: Chapter inspired by Taylor Swift's "Safe & Sound"! (English is not my first language)

Warning: Mention of Abandonment Trauma and Lots of Comfort!

Next Chapter| Women's Football Masterlist

Alexia left training at the Barcelona training center, exhausted but with a smile on her face. The day had been long, but the anticipation of returning home, where her wife and their two daughters were waiting, was what truly mattered. The past few weeks had been challenging since she and Y/n decided to adopt Claire, a fourteen-year-old teenager, and Mia, an energetic little girl. The adjustment phase was delicate and required a lot of patience and dedication from both of them.

Alexia picked up the girls from school and drove home, noticing that Claire was quieter than usual in the back seat. Mia, as always, chattered nonstop about the day's events, but Claire's lack of response left Alexia worried. When they arrived home, Claire went straight to her room, while Mia was excited about helping set the table for dinner.

A few minutes later, Y/n arrived home, bringing the pizzas and the burger that Claire loved so much. Seeing Alexia in the kitchen, she smiled and approached, placing the boxes on the table.

"Hey, love. I brought some pizzas and Claire's favorite food," Y/n said, kissing her wife on the cheek before noticing the worried look on Alexia's face. "Is something wrong?"

Alexia sighed, feeling the weight of the day on her shoulders.

"I think something's up with Claire," she replied, feeling Y/n's body tense against hers. "She seemed down today. She's usually pretty talkative with Mia, but she seemed distant."

Y/n frowned, concerned. Claire was a strong and resilient girl, but she also had her insecurities, especially after going through so many changes. Y/n knew she needed to be patient and sensitive at this moment.

"I'll talk to her, okay? Don't worry," Y/n assured, leaving a kiss on Alexia's forehead. Just then, Mia came running down the stairs, full of energy.

"Sweetie, don't run down the stairs, you could hurt yourself," Y/n warned, trying not to smile at her youngest daughter's enthusiasm.

"Sorry, Mom!" Mia replied, not losing any of her excitement, before turning to Alexia with a curious look.

While Alexia and Mia started setting the table, Y/n calmly went upstairs, heading toward Claire's room. She gently knocked on the door.

"Claire? Can I come in?" Y/n asked, hearing a soft "yes" from the other side.

When she entered the room, she found Claire sitting on the bed, hugging her knees. The room was quiet, almost as if it reflected the girl's state of mind. Y/n approached and sat beside her, extending her hand.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" Y/n asked, keeping her voice soft.

Claire hesitated, her eyes avoiding Y/n's. After a few moments of silence, she finally gave in, resting her head on Y/n's lap. The athlete began stroking her hair, waiting for her daughter to feel comfortable enough to open up.

"It's just that..." Claire began, her voice trembling. "I never imagined I'd be getting all this attention, you know? I've been through so many families... I've always been afraid that something would happen to me or Mia, that we'd be separated. Even though you're so good to us, sometimes I feel like I won't last long here. That at some point, you'll change your mind about me.

"Y/n's heart ached as she heard those words. She knew Claire's past experiences still haunted her, but she was determined to make sure that would change.

"Oh, my love," Y/n began, her voice full of affection. "I know you've been through a lot, and I understand your fear. But you need to believe me when I say that nothing will separate you and Mia from us. You're our daughters now, and nothing, absolutely nothing, will change that."

Claire sniffled quietly, still fighting back tears. Y/n continued, her voice firm but gentle.

"There's no way we'd ever send you back, Claire. You're ours, and we're yours. Never, at any point, have we thought of anything other than taking care of and loving you both. We'll always be here for you."

Claire finally looked at Y/n, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She sat up and hugged her mother tightly, nestling into her arms. Y/n held her in a protective embrace, feeling the tension slowly dissipate from her daughter's body.

After a few minutes, Claire finally relaxed, a small smile beginning to form on her face. Y/n wiped the tears from Claire's cheeks and smiled back.

"Now, how about you wash your face and come down for dinner? I brought your favorite burger," Y/n suggested, kissing Claire's forehead.

"Thank you, Mom," Claire said with a shy smile.

Y/n left Claire's room with a lighter heart. When she entered the kitchen, she found Alexia and Mia finishing setting the table. Alexia looked at Y/n, who nodded, indicating that things were better.

"Ready for dinner?" Y/n asked, as Mia hurried to sit at the table.

Claire came downstairs shortly after, still a little shy but visibly more at ease. She joined the family at the table, and the atmosphere in the house began to fill with warmth and comfort as dinner progressed. Laughter and light conversation filled the space, dispelling any remaining tension.

After dinner, Y/n and Alexia put the girls to bed. Mia was the first to fall asleep, curled up in her blanket, while Claire, now calmer, also drifted off with a grateful smile on her lips.

When the two finally retreated to their own room, Alexia snuggled into Y/n's arms, feeling the peace that only that moment of intimacy could provide. Y/n stroked Alexia's hair and sighed softly.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" Alexia asked quietly, still with a hint of uncertainty.

"Yes, we are," Y/n replied firmly, holding Alexia closer. "We'll overcome any challenge, together. They're our daughters, love. Forever."

Alexia smiled against Y/n's chest, closing her eyes as she felt the love that connected them as a family.

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 2.

Prev Next

*Author's note: OMG. Thank you guys so much for all the engagement on the first part. I didn’t think my first post would get that much reaction. Also yes I am spree writing this is! If you notice a mistake let me know. PS, the school named in this chapter is fictional and does not exist in the real world.

Alfred listened to the ringing phone line waiting for Bruce to answer. Seeing Miss (Name) in the hallway had been a surprise. He was fairly certain she was supposed to be away at Miss Rose's Boarding School for Young Woman in STEM. After two years of studying in the UK it was strange to have her appear without any notice. Especially since she hadn't visited or sent word in the past.

"Hello Alfred." The line stopped ringing and Alfred was greeted by Bruce.

"Master Bruce. Have you gotten any word from (Name)'s School about a sudden break in the school year?"

"No, why?" Alfred narrowed his eyes at the phone. Well that didn't make sense. Surely her school would notify them if she left.

Alfred began going through his memories. When was the last time Miss Rose's had called the manor? He couldn't seem to recall, they did have the manor's house number on file. "Well she just arrived at the manor and get into a bit of a scuffle with Master Damian. He thought she was an intruder and because I didn't know about her return I couldn't inform him about her in advance. Thankfully she seems unharmed but that was not a good foot to start their sibling relationship on."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That’s odd, we should have received some kind of notice. Alfred can you call Miss Rose's to see what's going on. I'll wrap up business here quickly and be on the next flight home."

"I will see to it sir." The phone call ended. As Alfred began looking for the correct number to call next, Dick came into the room.

"Hey Alfred, why didn't you tell me baby bird was coming back?" Dick gestured behind him towards the kitchen.

Alfred shook his head slightly, typing in the school's name on Google. "I was not aware she was returning today."

Dick blinked twice, "Wait, what? Her school is in Australia, how did she get on an international flight with no one being aware of it?"

"Her school isn't in Australia." Alfred's eyebrows scrunched together. Dick's mouth made an 'o' shape before clamping into a thin line. Alfred narrowed his eyes at the look before correcting Dick, "Her school is in Birmingham, UK."

"Right, right. Umm, still though how did she get back here without anyone being notified. Even than it's the middle of October, shouldn't classes still be in session." Dick placed his hand to his chin. His eyes took on the focus look he got when he was working on a case or solving a puzzle. Alfred finally got the number written down. Dick looked up at Alfred. There was this dawning look on his face, "Hey Alfred."

"Yes Master Dick."

"Something is really wrong here, we need to keep an eye on her."

Alfred nodded listening to another phone line ringing in his ear, "I agree."

You had to come up with a plan. Escaping the facilities hadn't happened because of rash promises of passion. No it took a year of observation, planning, and waiting. It took you learning every detail that had been place in front of you. Yes you had emotions and gave yourself little dramatic moments but you can't live there.

You grabbed an abandoned notebook on your desk. It was covered in stickers with the first three pages being scribbled on. You ripped them out before beginning to write out everything you knew about the facilities. One they had access to all kinds of medical equipment but it was older equipment that struggled to work sometimes. Two the gaurds were heavily arm with scratched up weapons. The scratching was probably where the serial numbers would've been. Third they had issues getting supplies from a Sionis. Fourth it was based in Gotham evidenced by you being able to find the manor days after escape.

On the next page you wrote out your family member's names. You also add in the new people, Duke Thomas and Damian Wayne. You had written down Talia but stopped to think for a minute.

Yes, your father had likely cheated on your mom with her. But did that make her guilty of destroying your mom's romance? Did she even know about your mother? Maybe your mom was the reason she left causing that line in your mother's diary. Even than you need to focus on the experiments. You could worry about your mother's betrayal later. You scratched Talia off the list.

When you flipped to the next page, there was a soft knock on your door. It creaked open revealing Duke. He offered you a soft smile as he poked his head into your room. "Hey, are you doing okay?"

You looked him up and down. Duke was new to manor and you still couldn't tell if he was visiting or lived here now. A small part of you questioned if he knew about your kidnapping. Did any of your siblings actually know what happeneded or had Bruce just told them the boarding school lie? Did he plan to do it to them too once you proved a success?

You turned back to your notebook scribbling the questions. You'd need to look into during your investigation, "I'm fine."

"I heard about Damian attacking you in the hallway." Duke inched into your room. You turned back a page and underlined Damian's name. Even if he had nothing to do with your suspicions about your father, you were not going let him act like him towards you. Duke chuckled nervously behind you, prompt you to close the book. Can't have them finding out... yet. "Is there someway I can maybe cheer you up? I mean you're clearly upset about something and I want to help if I possibly can?"

He continued to ramble on. You looked around your room as he talked. Eyes landing on your closet you had a slight realization. In your time at the experiments, you had grown. They may have torture you but they hadn't starved you. After all they need you healthy to ensure 'proper' results. The only clothes you had that fit you were probably the ones you were wearing. "Actually there is something."

"Oh! Yeah, what do you need?" Duke smiled brightly. It was as if his teeth were glowing with inner light. If your siblings and by proxy Duke had been told a lie, playing along with it would be smart. After all planning and observing meant staying unnoticed. You offer an unsure smile hoping it would play into what you were saying, "It's a long story but I left the boarding school in a hurry so I completely forgot to pack clothes."

"Okay." Duke made a weird face. Crap, that's not good.

"Yeah and I had a grow spurt so, most of my clothes here don't fit me anymore." You rubbed the back of your neck. Duke's face shifted into realization at your words. Crisis averted for now. You plowed ahead to keep him from asking about the school, making up a lie was not a good idea right now when you knew nothing about theirs. "I need to go clothes shopping. Can you take me to the mall?"

"Of course. What time did you want to go?" Duke made an awkward finger gun gesture towards. He looked tense. Not the tense you saw from the gaurds when you started pressing the line. It was more like the intern in the experiments who never looked at you directly.

You grabbed your notebook and stood. There's was a small backpack by your desk. You slid the book in before sling the bag over your shoulder, "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, let me just stop by my room to grab my keys and wallet." Duke held the door open for you. The walk to his room was quiet and slightly tense.

When he stopped at a door on the second floor you couldn't stop yourself from blurting, "So, you live here?"

"Oh yeah." He walked into the- his room. There were a few posters and some knick knacks on the few bookcases. More importantly there were moving boxes in the corner. Some of them were disassembled but a few were still intact with clothes scattered around them. In fact most of the room was covered in stary papers, clothes, etc. Duke grimaced, "Haha, I just moved in two months ago. Let's agree to not tell Alfred about the mess."

"He probably already knows and is silently judging you." A nervous laugh bubbled out of your stomach. The information swirled inside of you uneasily. Two months was awhile but not long in the grand scheme of things. Plus if Alfred didn't mention you than Duke probably didn't know anything. That would make him innocent in your kidnapping.

"Ahh here they are!" Duke's voice broke you out of the mixed up thoughts in your head. He was holding a silver chain with a dark brown wallet and several keys hanging from it. In his search he had basically ripped apart his laundry basket. He kicked the mess back towards the now mostly empty basket, "You ready?"

"Yeah. Can we get something to eat well we're out?" You felt ridiculous asking. It was another stark reminder of how normal everything but you felt.

Yet Duke didn't hesitate to smile at you and offer his hand, "Heck yeah. There's this awesome pizza place in the mall the serves the biggest slices I've ever seen."

"I don't remember the last time I had pizza."

"No way! Let's go, we need to get you a slice ASAP. This is a pizza emergency." Maybe you could make a new normal with him. Once you destroyed the experiments. Duke Thomas was officially off your list for now.

Something had shifted in Duke. He remembered asking his parents for a little sibling when he was four maybe five. They had kissed him on the forehead and told him that they didn't need another kid when they had a perfect one in front them. It had made him feel happy for a little bit but he always held that small hope.

He thought he would get that with Damian. To a degree he did but it didn’t feel right. Damian was too competitive and strong willed. Duke didn't feel like a big brother, he felt like a contestant at worst, a good friend at best.

Taking (Name) to the mall today had made him feel like a big brother. Seeing her slowly relax around him and get excited over tiny things. Like the cute dress at Justice, the pizza slice that was as big as her head, and the look on her face when she saw Barnes & Noble. He probably spent his whole allowance for the week but he didn't care. He had made his little sister happy.

They had one last stop to make before going home, Claire's. Duke insisted that she look around well he grabbed something. He went straight to friendship necklaces. There were quite a few to choose from. Crystals, Cats, The Wicked Musical. Than he saw it. Two pastel tie-dye koalas hugging each, it was perfect. Duke immediately grabbed it before going to find her.

That's when he noticed something was wrong. She was staring at something and shaking violently. The look in her eyes told him that she had gone off somewhere else mentally. He looked towards what she was looking at to see the piercing station.

There was an attendant cleaning off a newly open needle. The smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant clear in air. He placed himself in between her and sight. "What’s wrong, kiddo?"

"I wanna go home." (Name) didn't speak above a tight whisper. Something in Duke began howling. This was wrong, she shouldn't be scared. He was there to protect her.

"Okay, but first I need you to tell me something. Where are you?" Duke tried to remember what they do for Jason when he gets like this. Fuck why was it so hard to remember grounding right now.

"I don't like needles." Her eyes flicked to his. They were wide and blaring with barely contained rage.

"That’s okay, but I need you to tell me where we are." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tighten. He continued on, "I need to know you're here with me. Mentally."

"The Mall."

"We can go." Duke grabbed her hand gently. They paid and left. Once they were in the car, she relaxed again. Duke palmed the necklace in his hand. He had taken it out of the package. His own necklace was already around his neck.

She was staring out the window. The look in her eyes made Duke pause. She was watching the setting sun like it was first time she was seeing it. Mute awe painted her face like a classical painting. Duke pulled the little koala out of his pocket, "Hey, I got you something."

"Is it half the back seat?" She looked behind her to the bags. Barnes & Noble, The Childern's Place, Justice, and Build-a-Bear. Four places that equated to Five separate bags. Duke snorted before bursting out laughing.

"No. Jeez no, it's this." He held out the little koala necklace to her. Her eyes looked towards his own chest, where the other koala already hung. A friendship necklace. She took it into her hands gently. That classical painting look returning, mixes of sentimental joy and some unnamed human emotion that was baffling.

"Thank you, Duke."

"It's no problem." Duke wrapped his arm around her in an weird side hug over the center console. He had always wanted a little sibling and now that he had one he was never to going let her go.

"We might want to get back to manor before curfew." (Name) pointed to the digital display announcing 6:15pm. Duke cursed, shoving his keys into the ignition. She began to laugh hysterical. The manor was two hours away and 'curfew' aka patrol debrief was at 7pm. Duke flew out of the parking lot with manically laughing ten-year-old.

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@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills

[youreverydayfangirl]

READY FOR IT

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she's adjusted to a new life, she begins to let out her feelings and she meets someone new

warning: none i think this is a pretty cute chapter, maybe alchohol

a/n: another post omg?????

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

f1gossip has posted

liked by 120, 384 others

f1gossip Rumour has it that World Champion Max Verstappen and girlfriend Kelly Piquet have called it quits. The pair was last seen in Febuary earlier this year but an inside source reports they've been broken up since December. Thoughts?

user1 FINALLY

user2 not sure if this is really shocking to anyone

user3 NONONO THEY CANT BE

-> user4 get a life

--------------------

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by keekslikestospamm, thatoneartgirlalex and 23 others

y/nsprivate nothing just hot girl shit

tagged: livbereallydumb, itssabrinaaa

keekslikestospammmm livbereallydumb looking like a queen tbh

-> livbereallydumb don't you know it

thatoneartgirlalex whos the girl in the first slide?

-> livbereallydumb think its y/nsprivate not sure tho

-> y/nsprivate STAWP IT

leosfather i better be seeing you tomorrow

-> y/nsprivate TRUST QUEEN I'LL BE THERE

thatonefrenchguy FINALLY ON THE PRIVATE

-> y/nsprivate you better be grateful and also ill remove you if you get too annoying

-> thatonefrenchguy MEANNNN

---------------------------------

"Y/n. Hurry up please." Y/n rolled her eyes slightly at the persistence of her best friend who had literally just finished getting ready.

"I'm coming," Y/n replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. Tonight was Charles' 27th birthday, and they were all headed out to celebrate. When Y/n finally stepped out, Alex gave a low whistle.

"Wow, Y/n, you look amazing," she said, looking her up and down.

"Yeah, yeah," Y/n replied with a playful smile. "Where's the birthday boy? He can't be running late on his own night."

"Later than you are, which is ironic since he calls me the diva," Alex laughed, wrapping her arms around Y/n.

When Charles finally finished getting ready to go, the trio made their way to the car and headed to the small club Charles had booked for the night. As they drove, Y/n felt a quiet sense of peace settle over her, as if everything in her life might just be okay from here on out.

Arriving at the club, Y/n was greeted by a wave of familiar faces, triggering a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. Many of the people here were mutual friends she hadn’t seen since the breakup with Lando. They hadn’t necessarily taken sides, but after the split, they had drifted out of her life. She politely greeted a few, already dreading the day ahead.

As she made her way to get a drink Y/n bumped into someone, "Oh sorry I- Carlos." She said, suddenly feeling a very strong sense of uncomfort around herself. Whilst her and Carlos were very close during her relationship with Lando, Carlos picked his side and seemed to hate Y/n for it.

"Y/n," he replied sharply, his accent thick with a drunken edge. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thanks," she answered, keeping her tone polite. Before he could continue Charles appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around both of them. Whether he knew it or not, he relived the tension and Y/n was grateful for the interruption.

At the sight of his drunk friend, a huge smile spread across Carlos' face, and the two fell into more animated conversation. Y/n found her thoughts drifting. After saying she needed some air, Y/n slipped away and made her way to the balcony, leaning against the railing.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the soft click of the door opening.

"Oh, sorry... I didn’t realize anyone was out here," an awkward voice said, breaking the quiet. Y/n turned, a bit startled, and found herself face to face with someone she vaguely recognized but had barely spoken to, Max.

God, he’s gorgeous. It was the first thought that popped into her mind. His green eyes caught the light with a slight glitter, and a small, warm smile curved his lips. If looks could kill, she thought, feeling her cheeks warm. He was effortlessly handsome, too handsome, in fact.

As they shared a brief, almost charged silence, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if he had a girlfriend, or how many hearts he’d broken along the way. Max cleared his throat, shifting his weight a little.

"Y/n," he greeted, straightening his back. She returned his smile, small but genuine. "You look great."

A small smile spread across her face, "Um thanks, you too."

"How’s Gizmo?" Max asked with a soft smile, moving to stand closer to her. Suddenly, any lingering awkwardness between them melted away.

"Um hes good." Y/n said, perking up at the mention of her cat. Something about that simple question made Y/n feel more comforted in his presence. Most people would ask how was she doing or ask about her music. But Max seemed more interested in the little things, who she was.

They slipped into an easy rhythm of conversation, eventually settling down on the balcony with their backs against the wall, the quiet hum of the party inside fading into background noise.

"So," Max began, a faint curiosity in his eyes, "are you seeing anyone at the moment?" His tone was casual, but there was something unguarded about the question that made her laugh.

"After everything that’s happened? Do you think anyone would want to date me?" she replied with a playful smile, although her tone held something else.

Max’s gaze softened. "Why wouldn’t they? You’re stunning, and you’ve got the personality to match."

"Haven't you heard what they’ve been calling me?" She tilted her head, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"I don’t make a habit of listening to the media," he said, shrugging. "I’d rather form my own perspective." His words were calm, but there was something unwavering in the way he looked at her, something that made her heart stumble in her chest.

She glanced away, her cheeks warming. "I don’t know how true that is," she mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

Max leaned a little closer, his gaze never leaving her face. "Oh, come on. I bet you’ve stolen a lot of hearts."

The way he was looking at her, intensely, with a hint of admiration, made her feel as if she needed to break eye contact, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Just as she was about to respond, the door opened, and Kika’s voice floated over. "Y/n! Come on, come dance!"

Y/n smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. "Just a minute," she called back, then turned to Max. "I guess I’ll see you around?"

Max’s eyes sparkled, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Trust me, you will."

A few shots later Y/n found herself looking for a place to sit and gather herself for a minute. As she turned around the room she noticed him sitting on a barstool and made her way over to him.

"Not enjoying yourself?" She asked him and he instantly perked up at her voice. Something that he internally scolded him self for, don't make yourself seem desperate Max.

"No, I am," he replied, smiling, "just not a heavy drinker." He turned on the stool to face her fully, his posture relaxing as he settled into their conversation.

Suddenly, a familiar song came blaring through the speakers, "I love this song!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. Before she could say anything else, Max held out a hand, a playful smile on his lips.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, the formality in his tone nearly too gentlemanly for the club setting.

She gave him a soft smile and slid her hand into his. "Lead the way."

They wove through the crowd and onto the dance floor, where the music enveloped them. As they moved together, Max leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. "You know, you never answered my question. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

___________________

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by keekslikestospamm, thatoneartgirlalex and 23 others

y/nsprivate CHA CHAS BIRTHDAY I LOVE YOU BITCHHHHH

tagged: leosfather

leosfather the sister i never had

-> y/nsprivate pascale loves me more tho so...

-> leosfather here i thought you were being nice

-> y/nsprivate NEVERRR

thatoneartgirlalex meeting your wife through your boyfriend>>>

-> y/nsprivate exactly how it happened

keekslikestospammm you and max were looking VERY comfortable last night 👀

-> thatoneartgirlalex WHATTT

-> leosfather SPILL THE DEETS NOW

-> y/thatoneartgirlalex we're coming over now

-> leosfather im bringing champagne

---------------------

thatoneartgirlalex has posted

liked by y/nsprivate, leosfather and 43 others

thatoneartgirlalex you best believe the tea was spilt

tagged: y/nsprivate

y/nsprivate 👀👀

-> thatoneartgirlalex 🤐🤐

leosfather charles erasure 💔

-> y/nsprivate as it should be tbh

jimmyandsassysdad can i know the tea?

-> y/nsprivate what are you doing here?

-------------------------

charles to max

y/n and max

Unknown has been changed to Max

________________

i think this is pretty long but idk

any ways heres another part for you guys ;)

_________________

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[leoascendente]

PAC/ Your destined person 💘

Hi loves and welcome to this new PAC! I'll be taking a time from this blog to focus on another projects, it doesn't mean that this blog will be unactive, it is just that I won't post that much pacs or astrology, I'll be more focused in my Spanish blog for a while. Anyway, private readings will still be open and from time to time I'll post something over here because Tumblr is and always will be my safe place.

Take a deep breath before choosig your pile and pick the picture you feel called the most, because this is a general reading it doesn't have to fully resonate, keep what does and leave what doesn't for somebody else, you can always choose another pile :)

For private readings click here

My blog in Spanish here

Decks: Romantic tarot, dark wood tarot, tea leafs oracle, romance angels oracle, love oracle cards

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Pile 1:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: 6 of swords, 3 of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, moon, hermit, queen of wands, king of swords/ hermit rev, death, wheel of fortune, 5 of pentacles, sun)

This person probably comes from a very different backgroud than you, it will seem like you don't have much in common at first, they have probably moved from the place they were born and are getting used to the new place. They are a hard worker, right now they are putting a lot of effort in this area of their life, probably to help financially their beloved ones, I'm hearing to help their parents, they are so focused in making money that they are not nurturing other aspects of their life like socializing, the good thing is that they don't seem to care about it. They got the hermit with two different decks, once upright and another time on reversed, it gives me the feeling that they feel very comfortable in their solitude but at the same time they are craving significative connections and a reason to get out of their isolation, for some reason they feel very exhausted but they can't sleep at night, they are like an owl, by night they seem to be more active even though they should be super tired because their work is exhausting (I'm writting this at 13:31 on my clock, maybe it's a relevant number for you or this connection). This person has some emotional issues that keeps them up at night, it's like they need these few extra hours of the day that they are taking from their resting time to relax when the rest of the world is quiet, maybe it's because they are far from home or because they miss their family, because this is related to their emotional world but for what I see here they are thinking too much about others and not about themselves and their mental peace. Anyway, this person is really attractive, for what I see in the cards, they have some not-so-secret admirers that are chasing them or looking desperately for their attention, whatever they are trying is not working with your person, your person seems to be an introvert or at least, they need to feel emotionally connected to something or someone to invest their energy fully on it, I could even say that they are a little shy when it comes to interact with other people. this person has an strong masculine energy, also I keep hearing the word resilient so this may be the most noticable trait about them, the thing here with the admirers is that they are chasing your person, like taking the masculine role but only for their outside appearance, your person seems to need something more to connect with someone and they prefer to court that to be courted. Right now they are closing chapters, there's a massive divine intervention in their life even if they are not aware of this, this is happening for their highest good because they need to get out of this hermit mode and start experiencing good things. They seem to be a little apathic and their lack of rest could be affecting their health too, even if they want it or not, a change is coming to align them, there will be a shift in their luck very soon, especially to help them financially because they seem to be struggling in this aspect. your person is really calmed and peaceful, very goal oriented and commited to what's important to them, you'll love the kind of person they are and the peace they'll bring to your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: deception, new love, this could be the one, playfulness/ girl with a snake, heartbroken, the phoenix, heart with a key, wedding rings)

Okay, your person had a very tough relationship with a toxic person that played with their heart and left them in the dust, this might be one of the reasons why they are avoiding so much human contact, especially with romantic interests, their heart is still recovering from this heartbreak. When you appear in their life, everything will trasform, it will be so magical and unexpected that they won't know what to do, you'll catch them off guard, everything will feel different with you, it's like they've been in a grey and clouded place and you appear to make the sun shine again in their life. This past relationship marked them but knowing you will make them realize that not everyone is the same, you will make them gain hope in love again, it will happen naturally and your relationship will be blossoming peacefully but with certainty, from the first moments they'll know that you are meant for them and will work to make you know it. This is a soulmate connection so you'll feel very comfortable with eachother like you know the other from a very long time, I see a lot of funny dates together, like an exhibition of some kind (I'm translating directly from google but I mean those places wih a ferris wheel, bumper cars, cotton candy and those places where you get a teddy bear if you drop all the bottle from the shelf, something that sort, please comment me the correct name of this lol). An important thing I see here is that your person might be shy at first and will try to make things the right way, not forcing anything, but what I like the most is that even though they have their heart wounded, they won't pay this pain with you, in fact, you'll be a reason to stop thinking about the past pain and focusing on the precious future you could share together, you'll ignite them faith in life, they'll find motivation again, they might even realize that they weren't as comfortable in their solitude as they wanted to project. I see a fast commitment, I also see that they will leave you the key of their home so you can stay there even when they are working, they'll try to make you part of their day to day life and will be very honest with your from the start, you can ask them anything and they will respond with all the truth, even if the truth doesn't leave them in good place, they want you to know every detail about them, you can also trust in them to share whatever you want, they will be super understanding and compassionate.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: sunrise, woman, feather, bull, desk, scissors, caterpillar)

By the moment you are about to meet your person, you'll be finding out the true intentions of a woman in your life, I don't know why but the energy of this woman gives me really bad vibe, like a two faced person, is someone that you should put distance with in order to protect your energy because in terms of love she could often have bad experiences and she will not be happy for you when you find your soulmate. There also this message of not sharing your ideas about the future, not just in love but about your goals or plans in work too, if you are thinking about initiate something by your own just keep it private for a while, or at least just share it with your closest ones because this woman or femenine energy around you don't what you to thrive. The good thing is that you got the card of the sunrise, so you'll be having a lot of new ideas that will lead you to find success, I'd suggest you to write down those ideas,take time to organize them and start implementing them in aries season, at the beggining of the spring, energies will be at your favor. For your person they'll be working really hard, there might be a chance for a rise or getting a higher position in their work field and they'll be focused into that, for others of you there might also be the chance that your person will be getting another job with a better salary, I'm getting especially this second option because your person seems to be very unhappy in their current job and they need better conditions, it also seems like there is some opposition from someone in their work and your person has to keep themselves in a defensive position to deal with it and they don't want this no more, they know they deserve a healthier work enviroment, maybe there's an abusive boss here. There's the possibility that you are really close to meet eachother because of the cards on tarot and this message so be aware of your surroundings because your person is closer than you imagine :)

Channeled messages: a puppy, sexy but don't know it, romantic dates, strong arms, meet them in a public place like a park, a market or a place with art or literature involved like museums or book stores, gift giving, a soft pink or white dress, night dates, overthinking, financial struggle, 999, 1333, virgo, scorpio, cancer and leo, might be seasons for you two meet or your person's sign.

Pile 2:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: 9 of wands, 4 of swords, 7 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, justice, death, world/ devil, justice, queen of pentacles, judgement, king of wands)

Okay, lets start saying that you know this person but never had anything romantic with them besides a crush for some of you, they are someone that is familiar to you, maybe you have talked at some point or is simplier than that and you follow them on social media or something that sort, you know eachother but there's almost any interaction between you two. I usually say on private readings when I see that the consultant know their person that Universe has a wicked sense of humor and sometimes, this person can be so random as your crush on primary school, someone you talked once in a party, a friend of a friend and those kind of things, so don't be dissapointed when you see that you know your person because many times, even though you know them, they can be the most random person you could ever imagine. Right now your person is going through some legal issues, it can be a divorce for some of you but for others it might be more related to an spiritual awakening where they are taking resposibility over things they have done in the past, like paying some karma and realizing why they are paying it. The good thing is that your person is closing a chapter, this awakening can be hard, because of the devil card, but it also will bring them a big relief and a change in their reality for the best, there's also a change in their way to face life. For what I see in the cards, your person is wealthy or well positioned in life, probably has a high position in their work field, for some they can work in something related to laws but is an enviroment with a lot of competition and stabs in the back, you have to be a little ruthless to thrive in that area, there's also a chance that they already have a child or kids near them, if you have children, your person will get along very well with your kid too. Your person has an strong temper, the good part of it is that they are very protective of what they love and don't mind getting into trouble if that means keeping their beloved ones safe. The not so good part is that they can be too impulsive and irrational when angry, their passionate spirit can take the best from them sometimes, they will be your total opposite so if you have a natural calmed and peaceful temper this pile is for you. Your person is someone brave, a natural extrovert with a lot of charisma, they can draw all the attention of a room to them just with an smile, they are also very sexy, physically they are extremely attractive, they could also be a Libra or Sagittarius sun sign. Your person hasn't been an angel in their past, even though they are a nice person with a good heart, it seems like they did ot take the best decitions in their past and now they are regreting some mistakes. They are really handsome and charming, I see they haven't faced rejection in their past and that has led them to be too confident, they are the kind of person who always gets what they want, do you know Dexter from the show One Day? your person reminds me of him in the good and the bad traits. Anyway, they recently had an experience that made them realize the path they were taking and they want a diferent direction, they don't feel fulfilled and knows that can get something better for themselves, they are also facing the consequences of their actions si they might need some extra time to get into your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: this could be the one, trust, children, worth waiting for/ talking, golden mirror, sword and rose, self indulgence, love call)

You'll share a very special bond, I see trust issues from both of you but at the moment you start something together those issues will fade, it's like your souls will recognize that you both are meant for eachother, feelings will bloom naturally. I see different scenarios for your pile so take what resonates with you, for the people who already know who this person is, the cards invite you to keep hopeful but patient, just trust the Universe and focus on your bussiness meanwhile your person puts their life in order and solve the issues they are currently dealing with, you deserve to enjoy their best version. For others of you who can't figure out yet who your person is, the cards have a similar meaning, to stay optimistic visualizing your ideal relationship, you'll have to wait a little more than the other piles because your person is dealing with issues they need to resolve before meeting you, again, you deserve to enjoy their best version, your vibration is very high so having your person right now in your life with their current circumstances could affect negatively your energy, so this wait is a divine protection for you. Things will start by flirting between both of you, maybe some casual dates at first but for what see in the cards, there's a lot of communication here and it makes sense because through communication trust gets reinforced and that's what you both need. You both will be very different but will have so much in common, your experiences in life or even your tastes or hobbies, your favorite artist or the kind of music you like, it will start by something simple but then you'll realize how similar you truly are, you will mirror eachother in every aspect, for some with an spiritual development I see this person is your twin flame. A nice thing a like about your person is that they will allow you to stay in your femenine energy, the card of self indulgence gives me the feeling that they'll provide for the things you like, just as an example, if you are into a saga of books but you don't have enough money to afford everyone of them so you go buy it one by one, your person will buy you all the saga so you can enjoy your hobbies. For some of you I even see that your person pays for your beauty treatments like getting your lashes or nails done. I see that they'll like to take a protective role with you, if you are easilly stressed, especially in regards of legal matters or burocracy, your person will take care of it so you don't have to worry, if you have any dream or goal you want to achieve your person will also provide you a safe space so you can develop it, especially for those of you who are into arts or something that involves creativity

Signals:

(Tea leafs: teapot, mule, wreath, shield, stork, wedge, heart)

Your signs to know when your person is about to enter your life will be a dissapointment with a friendship of your same sex, you might have an idea of who this person is because you have been seeing red flags from them in the past but you have turned a blind eye with them, especially in terms of stubborness and not wanting to change their habits. I'm getting that they are the kind to mourn and complain over things that they could easilly change, even you could have given them advices in the past but this person is unwilling to change for the better so you'll have to take them out of your life before your person comes. The tea leafs say that this won't be easy for you because you love and appreciate this person but by having them in your life you have to stay in a protective state, the shield warns you that you need to protect yourself from this person because they are consuming your energies. For your person, they'll be in a process of creating something new, I'm getting that it will be related to work, they'll be moving in silence because there's someone near them that don't want your person to be successful in this new project, anyway the project will thrive regardless of what other people try to mess with it. Your person will be just about to get their victory when they get in a deeper contact with you, they'll feel like things are getting better for them after everything they had to go through, you'll be like their ultimate victory. They'll know it's you because they'll feel safe by your side, having in mind that they are surrounded by snakes, getting in contact with you will feel for them like being in precence of angels.

Channeled messages: protect yourself from evil eye, black turmaline, long term relationship, karmic debts, late night conversations, a lot of sexual energy, love letters, release the old so the new can enter, the goddess Kali, law of attraction, subliminal audios, stay in your femenine energy, the bee and the flower, trust the process, 1111, 222, sagittarius, libra, scorpio

Pile 3:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: queen of cups, king of pentacles, queen of pentacles, 3 of wands, fool, king of cups, 10 of pentacles/ ace of wands, 8 of pentacles rev, 5 of swords rev, judgement, emperor)

This person is your soulmate/twin flame, they are your divine counterpart so you will notice it from the very first moment you meet them. Getting into who your person is, they come from a wealthy background, their family seem to be very rich to say the least, they have been a pampered child all their life, in fact, if they work is because they want to not because they need to. Your person has been raised by parents that are soulmates so they know what true love is and knows that they want that type of connection for them too, they are a romantic and are not afraid to express it, they are also very well mannered so expect them to be chilvalrous with you, they are a true gentleman. They are so open to love that is overwhelming, they fantazise an daydream a lot about you, how you look, your way to walk and your smell, they have you so much in their head but they feel frustration not knowing who you are and when you will appear, they look for you everywhere they go and in every person they meet, yu cold even feel their energy calling you, if you have romantic dreams with someone but you can see their face clearly it is your person calling you in, you can intuitively feel them, I'm also getting that if you are able to see the face of someone familiar to you in dreams like a famous person just check that person you dream about because they might reselble the characteristics of your person. They have a melancholic soul, like a poet from another century, they are very deep and emotional, they have so much love inside they want to offer but they feel frustrated because they don't find the right person to share it with, they don't want only to share love they want someone to share all their life with, they feel like they already have it all to live a happy life but there's this missing peace of wanting to share all their abundance with someone else. There's this phrase of the movie 'into the wild' (my favourite movie ever <3) that says 'happiness is only real when it's shared', I feel that your person resonates a lot with this phrase, they have people they love around but they crave a romantic connection to create a family with, btw, they are really into marriage and family, they also like children and animals and they love your person too. Your person has a sensitive heart and the pain of their solitude has led them to get involved with people with superficial intentions or toxic behaviors, mostly because of your person's money, they had a relationship in the past that left them feeling empty and that's why now they are giving themselves time to be alone and with their family, I see they have siblings that are playing a major role into your person's emotional healing. Idk if you'll know about this book, it's called fallen hearts by V.C Andrews, it is part of the Casteel saga but the character that reminds me of your person appears on the second book, his name is Troy Tatterton, I suggest you to read it or let me know if you already know them :). I also see that your person has traveled a lot, for some of you, you could even live at distanced places where you'd had to travel to see eachother, it may be in one of your person's journeys where they finally meet you.

The connection:

(Cards: true love, getting to know eachother, playfulness, wedding/ casette, hammer, camera, separation, twin flames)

Oh goddess, this is so beautiful it makes me want to cry! If it was up to your person they would marry you as soon as they meet you, after all their painful journey, when you appear in their life they'll feel like the skies will open up only for them, they'll know it's you and will court you from the very first moment, they will be flirty but charming at the same time, I see you'll feel the same too. Even though that feelings will be intense at first, you both will make the effort to get to know eachother on deeper levels to check your chemistry and compatibility, everything will feel light and easy, you'll get along super well, they'll make you feel like you are in a safe place, if you are naturally introverted they'll make you feel protected and, in case you are an hyper independent person, you'll feel like you can finally relax and release some of the weight over your shoulders. At some point you'll have distance between you two but it won't separate you, I see you will make the best of every moment you spend together and, after a little time your person will offer you a seious commitment so you can start your life together as a couple, it might also be a soon engagement. I see that you'll be watching the pictures and videos you make together, especially if decide to travel, I see a fancy cabin near a forest where you are staying together to spend some alone time with nobody else there to bother you. The time you spend separated will play a major role for you two to decide that you want to be together forever, I see that your person will have a harder time being away from you, that's why they won't hesitate at the moment of offering you commitment, probably they give you a promise ring or tell you to get married, it will happen sooner than usual but both of you will feel certain about this relationship and what you want from it, you'll fit like puzle pieces and you'll both will understand why things didn't work with anybody else in the past.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: gong, key, shark, caterpillar, dagger, camel, unicorn, carriage)

For you, you'll be receiving good news about something you have done, it will be something exciting for you, a successful outcome for something you put a lot of effort in, you could even celebrate it with your close ones because this will make you very happy. There's a little warning for you about being responsible with your money but also I see you could loose something important like a jewel or something with big material value like a phone or something that sort, so if you suddently loose soemthing important take it as a sign that your person is about to enter your life. For your person I'd confirm what I said before about the trip, the carriage means a journey either be a mental or physical but I feel that it's a trip for vacation. This journey is because they have been through a period of worries and stress, they just have solved a problem before making this trip, this solution will involve some changes in their life that will align them with their highest good so, overcoming this obstacle will finally lead them to you, their most desired wish. They'll be taking a time to release all the tension they've been holding, it is surely oon holidays so check the calendar just in case, they'll be with more people in this journey, probably their siblings, your meeting will be something spontaneous, neither of you will be expetiing it

Channeled messages: Water sign, earth moon sign, family money, colors red and green, divine counterparts, white doves and sunflowers, many options in love, send you romantic phrases or pictures that reminds them of you, settle down, a midset change, aries season, 777, 1818

Pile 4:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: knight of wands, 10 of cups, moon, queen of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, knight of swords/ 7 of cups rev, 9 of swords, queen of pentacles, fool, empress)

Your person got the queen of pentacles repeated with two different tarot decks, this gives me the feeling that they feel plenty with the current direction of their life, with the 10 of cups I'd confirm that they feel happy and fulfilled and everything is working out for your person. Besides that luck is on their side naturally, your person has fought to be in the place they are right now, they are following their passion and vocation and being loyal to their heart has lead them to success and recognition, they are also very optimistic and knows how to see the good side of things at every situation. Your person reminds me of Eli from Boy swallows universe (please watch the show, it's awesome and you'll love Eli), your person is brave, independent and resourceful, even daring sometimes, they are loyal to their truth and their heart, in fact I see they can be a little obsessed with finding out the truth of things so they could even be into conspiracy theories or things that sort. Your person is a wanderer, a curious soul but with a grounded spirit, they can be wild sometimes but they know their own limits and knows when to stop, they are really down to earth and mature on the important matters but very lighthearted and spontaneus when the ocassion requires it. They have been through seriouus things in the past, they may have some unresolved heavy trauma they didn't gave themselves the chance to solve it so they might act reckless sometimes, but the good thing is that they have an strong moral compass and value system they keep loyal at every moment, betray their values would feel like betraying themselves and that's something they don't want to go through. Your person can be an unintentional heartbreaker, they don't want to hurt anybody's feelings but it's easy for people to catch feelings for your person, is something about their aura or their energy, they are so warm and gentle that everybody feels drawn to them and can't help but develop feelings for them, they are easy to be loved. Your person is really smart, they could be air dominant in their chart because they also seem like having a talent with words or being a great communicator, they are also very funny so expect to laugh a lot with them, they might be younger than you or it's simply that they have a youthful energy, whatever it is they have this childlike energy that makes them lovely. Your person has this golden retirever energy that everyone likes, they are also very friendly and seems to have it easy to create friendships with other people, their sense of humor is a plus on this aspect too, they are a sweetheart with a loving heart but they are also very hard working and commited to what they think is right, you'll feel super comfortable by their side, even though they could be younger they will give off very mature and reliable energy.

The connection:

(Cards: Keep an open mind, retreat, flirt, love yourself first, chemistry/ the sword and rose, girl talk, cupid's arrow, sunglasses, engagement ring)

Okay, at first they might not be your usual type or the kind of person you would be interested in, for some, your person could be younger than you and that could be a turn off for you. Your connection will bloom progressively by creating a friendship first, besides the fact that your person will be very into you from the very first moment, they'll prefer to respect your times and show you they are worthy of your love, they will feel like they are out of your league for some reason. You might run from them at a certain moment because you get confused with your emotions, especially for those of you reading this that are a water moon, you'll need some time to reflect on your emotions and realize that there's an inmense chemistry between you two, maybe this distance you take serves you as a reassurance of how drawn you feel to this person, they'll have a bad time with this retreat but for you will be very healing and enlightning. I see that there's a female or dominant femenine energy in your life you trust so much, that person is very reliable and wise, don't doubt to ask them for advice because she will bring you clarity about the situation, I'm glad to say that you have an amazing support system, count on that female friend when you need mental clarity because she will be very honest, for some of you this person could be a sister. During this separation you might think that your person is focused into their bussiness but they'll be into stalker mode (positively, of course), checking up on you, they might even ask someone close to you how you are doing just to know about you, they'll also be checking your social media to know about you, they won't do it in a creepy way, they'll feel the same pull to you but they have a harder time trying to contain their emotions, the good thing is that you seem to be very intuitive so you'll know when their energy is trying to approach you. They'll be so in love with you, it feels like they fell first but you'll fall harder after a while, you both are soulmates so, even though you'll try to fight your feelings, you can't help but fall for this person, and after you see how much they are willing to offer and their true esence you'll fall for them (I'm writting this at 15:15 on my clock in case it's a relevant number for you). They'll wear their heart on their sleeve, they'll be very protective of you and won't allow any disrispect to you, they can be cutthroating if anybody tries to mess with you, tey'll feel so honnoured by you focusing on them that they will try to make you the happiest person ever everyday of your life, they can't believe their luck by finding a person like you and receiving love from you, this connection will be an equal give and take, you both will do everything for the other to make them happy.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: dolphin, windchimes, fox, broken ring, bull, needle and thread, ant, table)

For you, you'll be in a very nice moment of your life when you are about to meet your person, you'll be receiving a big amount of money because of something you did in the past, like a material reward. This material abundance will give you a feeling of peace and relief, you have the chance to have some vacations or free time by yourself, I see you a little secretive about this, like you don't want anybody to ruin this good time, you may also be silent about the amount of money you receive. For your person, they'll be dettaching from someone or something, the broken ring is usually associated with romance but I feel it more related to bussiness so they might be changing their job for a healthiest enviroment (if you felt called to pile 1 I suggest you to check it), it seems like their current work field is forcing your person to sacrifice themselves and keeps them in a defensive position. They'll have to work hard but it will bring them stability and security.

Channeled messages: Acts of service, getting a pet together, a cat person, sleep problems, full moons affect their mood, white horses and moths, vivid dreams, sitcoms, a lot of laugh, mental fog, meditation, 1212, 444, taurus, gemini, aquarius

[vellihor]

unspoken. chapter 1.

cw: sylus x non-mc reader, idiots in love, mute reader, knives, blood, violence, gore, trauma, angst, fluff, reader is painfully oblivious! (in the beginning at least), SLOW BURN, intentional lowercase, inspiration from og LADS lore but may contain altered versions :)

word count -> 2410

italics mean reader’s thoughts

bold italics are sound effects

quotes are for phone texts

“normal text in quotes are speech”

“italicised text in quotes are signed speech”

author's note: so i was feeling like writing angst for sylus :) and i ended up with an insane fic... i may have let it get out of hand but hey free will!

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you had been sylus’ right-hand for seven years. helping him collect intel, carrying out the hits he put out on his enemies. all that entails being part of THE criminal enterprise in the N109 zone. you were his shadows in the dark, the silent blade — the name makes cold sweat drip down people’s forehead at the mention. its partially literal, given how you were mute. also, because unlike sylus, you preferred the sharps rather than guns.

tonight, you were staking out in one of the clubs sylus owned. making sure to blend in with the crowd while keeping tabs on your target for the night. markus, a protocore weapons dealer that had managed to steal a few shipments of protocores from onychinus. sylus had had enough of this man parading the protocores as theirs. hence, your mission for the night. just as markus enters one of the vip rooms, you manage to slink behind him into the room before the doors closed. your evol enveloping you in a blanket that renders you invisible. “mr. price! the goods are all squared away and ready for your taking. i assume you have come to let me know of your decision?” markus clasps his hands politely, addressing the fur-cloaked man sitting on the sofa. your breath hitches when you realise who he is. the scar across his left eye. there he is. the man who killed your family seven years ago. your world swirls and you black out.

when you come to again, you are standing in the middle of a puddle of blood and slumped bodies. knife dripping with blood. ears ringing. heart pounding. breath uneven. adrenaline pumping through your veins. the door slams open and you pull your evol to cloak yourself. only to drop it when you see sylus at the door. his eyes sweep the room and a look of understanding passes between you and him. he scans you up and down for wounds, eyes landing on your knuckles white with the deathly grip you have on the handle of your knife. he gently pries it from your hand. the ride back to the base was silent and a blur.

the next thing you know, you are in the base’s kitchen. sitting at the countertop with a cup of camomile tea in your hands. “hey, what’s going on in your pretty head?” sylus rasps, trying to get your attention. you grab your phone and type out a response. sarcasm would serve me well.

oh was i pretty? i never knew.

you showed him the screen, with a smirk on your face. he lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “darling, how is that the thing that caught your attention?” he moves to stand opposite you from the countertop. you can't help but patronize his concern as a coping mechanism. he knows well. so then you deflect.

i'm fine. i'll have the intel collected on your table tomorrow morning.

sylus raises his eyebrow. “you know that's not what i'm asking about” you shrug and slip off your chair, walking towards the doors with your mug in hand. “where are you going” he calls out. "rooftop", you sign back at him. its one of the words he knows in sign language.

as you settled down on the sofa, the glass door slides open and here he is again. what for? you had no idea. it wasn’t uncommon for you to kill. he took his place next to you. the silence stretched on for forever before you snuck a glance at him and he was just staring out over the railings into the city view. fine by me. i couldn’t bother to type right now.

just when you had fallen into a false sense of peace, sylus opened his mouth. you couldn’t help but inwardly groan. “you remember when we first met?” you snort at his question. as if i would ever forget. you turn to him and give him a questioning look. he chuckles, “relax, i'll talk and you listen.” you reposition yourself to face him as he recounts the day he met you and you are taken back to when you were 16.

it was a normal day for you. a day out with your family — dad, mom, younger brother. you had just returned home from your trip to the theme park. unaware of the thugs that were waiting in your living room. when your family entered the door, it was a mess in the living room. furniture tossed, books on the floor, glass shattered. your brother instinctively shielded you behind him, your evol flaring and hiding you from plain sight. it was chaotic. screams from your mother still rang in your head every time you recalled the memory. blood everywhere. you were rooted to your spot, eyes unblinking as you watched everything unfold. three dead bodies on the floor. a man in a fur coat pacing around the living room, livid. demanding something to be found. frightened, you tried to move backwards and away from the house, pushing a vase off the countertop in the process. as the vase shattered, all movement in the living room seized. the man stalked across the room in three strides and swung his fist where you stood. the impact released your grip on your evol. as he bent down to grab you, your fist closed around a glass shard. his grip on your neck bruising and depriving you of air, you swung your fist at his face. blood pouring out of the gash across his left eye. it loosened the hold he had on your neck so you scrambled for the door, running into the streets barefooted. pulling your evol close to you, you didn’t dare to look behind. until you ran into a silver-haired man. “not very smart of you. running while leaving a trail.” you finally look behind and see blood trail from where the glass cut your hand.

“at that time, i didn’t know what happened. you lost your voice with all the damage to your throat. luke and kieran later found out and told me about it.” sylus unceremoniously swipes your camomile tea for a big sip. you stare at him dumbfounded. “what? my throat is dry from all that talking.” you prompt him for more. he stayed silent. to which you responded by pulling out your phone.

why did you keep me around?

he sighed. “i was- ahem am looking for someone. i thought you could help me but…”

i can’t talk?

“no. its… personal.” you raise your eyebrows, intrigued. he had never mentioned anything before. you wanted to help him with something, to repay the kindness he had shown you. you lean forward to show your interest. sylus senses that you are keen to help and unwilling to budge. “i shouldn’t have mentioned it… sigh its a hunter from the hunters’ association.” you blanch at the reveal. a hunter? why?

“i will tell you more when that intel hits my table tomorrow.” he gets up and looks back at me. “sleep well, kitten. you did well tonight.”

-

you entered the kitchen, yawning. freezing when you feel three pairs of eyes on you. sylus is still asleep at this time. so who else is here? “morning missus! we have a guest today!” luke cheerfully greets you. you turn to the dining table and see another man sitting at the table with luke and kieran. your confused look prompts kieran to explain the man. “boss invited him to craft weapons for us. a reward of sorts. new guns for me and luke… new knives for you!” you realise its just philip. you offer a wave and move to get your morning coffee before heading to sylus’ office.

placing the intel on his desk, you notice a thick leather bound book with a sticky note on its cover. for your peruse -sy. you smile as you flip the pages. intricate calligraphy and elaborate drawings of dragons etched on the pages. you doubt sylus meant for you to read through all of it in five minutes so you hefted the book onto your hip and made your way back to your room where you spent the rest of the day reading through the book. at first glance, it seemed like mythology or a fantasy story. an age where dragons and magic coexisted. until you realized the striking resemblance between the human-dragon and sylus. no way. nuh-uh there’s not a fucking way. this was eons ago. nah this can’t be sylus. he would be hella old… eh, could be just perks of being a dragon. huh? your eyes focus in on a drawing. a female holding a claymore, driving it into the chest of the dragon. a curse. huh. this must be a joke. he must have placed the sticky note on this book by mistake. unless…? you look out the window and realize the sun is setting. perfect. sylus would be awake now.

you bound down the steps to find sylus heading to the kitchen. you cock your head to the side, questioning. “i just went to the garage to find something i left in the car last night”, sylus says while taking his seat at the head of the dining table. you take a seat opposite luke and kieran. you showed sylus text on your phone.

so i read the book.

you side-eye him, trying to gauge his reaction. “mhm, what do you think of it?” so it wasn’t a mistake.

you are finding your soulmate?

that gets him. he chokes on his food. wiping his mouth, taking gulps of water. that also piqued luke and kieran’s interest. “missus, what are you talking about?” luke snickers, wanting to get in on the tea. you smile and turn your phone towards him. before it got snatched up by sylus. “I SAW THE WORD SOULMATE” “ARE YOU GUYS FINALLY DATING??” luke and kieran are suddenly out of their chairs dancing. giving wild high fives to each other. you furrow your brows in confusion and all it took was a stern look from sylus for them to settle back down in their seats. you tried to hold in your laugh, looking at sylus fuming. nothing would have happened if you just let them see the text. you pointed to your phone. he sighed and passed your phone back to you. you finally let the twins see the text. question marks start flying around. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FIND-” luke is silenced by kieran slapping a hand over his mouth. the rest of dinner is spent in silence. you could barely contain your smile as you ate dinner. you enjoyed the small moments when the four of you felt like a normal family.

-

some time after midnight, you were in the armoury maintaining your weapons. hearing the door open, you don’t turn to see who it is. you already know its sylus. he doesn’t move or speak. you wait patiently for him to say something as you wipe down your knives. suddenly, the familiar tang of iron hits your nose. you whip around to see sylus sitting on the floor against the wall clutching a wound in his chest. you rush to his side and lightly smack his face trying to prevent him from losing consciousness. his head lolls against the wall, forehead sticky with sweat. a gunshot wound. why is he not healing? where did he go after dinner? you run to the first aid kit and yank out the dressings and press it into his chest, earning a pained groan from him. serves you right for not bringing me along. you gently lean him forward to check if the wound is a through wound. its a through wound, this ought to be easier to deal with. why the flying fuck is he not healing??? you put a dressing against his back and lean your knee against his chest to put pressure while you get your phone out to get luke and kieran to come.

gsw @ armoury

within a minute, the twins burst into the armoury with a gurney. they lift sylus up onto it and start dashing towards the infirmary. when the resident doctor takes over, the three of you are forced to wait outside. bloody hands on hips, you turn to the twins and they instantly lower their heads. you know they went out with sylus after dinner but you never ask about missions you weren’t briefed on, knowing there was probably a reason for it.

“im sorry-”

“we are sorry-”

“we didn’t-”

“boss was not-”

the twins stumbled over their words, talking over each other in a frenzy. you hold your hand up and the twins were silenced. you point to kieran, asking him to explain. he visibly gulped.

“boss made us keep it a secret. he will tell you when he wakes up.”

you let out a scoff, feeling frustrated. “you better tell me now before i put both of you six feet underground” the twins shift uneasily, exchanging glances before everything came tumbling out.

-

sylus had already put out bait for miss hunter and tonight she was at the nest so he brought luke and kieran to… scare her? huh? isn’t she his soulmate? why is he acting like a terrorist? so he gave her a gun and asked her to shoot him through the heart. except he fucking forgot an evol restricting bullet was in the magazine. what the fuck is going on? so why ask me to help when he already knows her whereabouts?? and not bring me along for this???? why ask his soulmate to shoot him in the chest?

thoughts fly around in your head as you wait by sylus’ bed after his surgery. you glance at the clock. its four in the morning. you were about to stand up to hand over the shift to luke when sylus stirred. you help him sit up as he winces. you know the bullet’s effects were not going to wear off any time soon. serves him right. for the second time. your anger won and you turn to leave the room. but sylus’ hand finds your wrist, pulling you back. even when wounded, you still have insane strength. you turn and he sees the anger on your face, instantly regret is all over his face. “i-” he stops as soon as he starts. a beat passes and the most insane sentence imaginable comes out of his mouth.

“i brought her back to the base. she's in my room”

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