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alexiroflife · 1 month

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"my duty to you"

fluff, pining, suggestive themes, kingdom au, (i was inspired by the dynamic in the movie "Epic" w/ queen tara & ronin or this one if yall know what i'm referencing)

bodyguard!toji fushiguro x royalty!reader

Synopsis: toji, a man raised in poverty who has been forced to turn to violence for the sake of survival, finds himself at the princess' side as her personal bodyguard

to sum it up: toji has never been fond of royalty, yet he submits to his responsibility to protect you with passion he has not shown to anything else

WC: 14,242

Warning(s): mentions of trauma, violence, assault, vaguely suggestive themes

Toji knows he was never cut out for an uppity lifestyle.

He’s a gruff man, rough around the edges with an air of dark mystery radiating about him. He has never believed himself to be an attractive man, at least in the realm of those who make women drop to their knees and swoon with romance. He’s more fermented, well-aged, well experienced, and he has the looks of someone who has endured hell and more, not those of a freshly groomed prince blooming in his wake.

Toji, though a man of difficult upbringing, having undergone more of reality’s harsh lessons than almost anyone in this world, has a specific set of skills that comes in handy no matter the setting. He is not a man of incredible wealth, prowess, or poise, but he can associate himself with the likes of those who are by means of what he does, and what he does remarkably well. His talents are the only reason, he believes, why he has been in your service, smack in the middle of your world for teetering into two years now.

Raised in the slums, orphaned by his absent parents, Toji taught himself a way to live. He thinks that he was born hard, when he looks back, for no one else could have survived the way he had after those years of scrounging around for food, desperately searching for change and a decently comfortable pile of grass he could sleep in. As the world grew harsher, pushing against his growing mind and body, Toji pushed back harder, angrier, more solid and more grounded. He was blessed from the moment he entered this earth with unique physical qualities that gave him an advantage when fighting to live, his internal and external mold serving as an inhuman benefit, as though he was meant to struggle the way he had all of his life. As though fighting was his destiny.

The dark haired man had encountered many different means of keeping himself afloat over the years too, some more grim than others that he refused to look back on. Nevertheless, after the will of the merciless wind had tossed him around feverishly for far longer than he realized would have been normal for anybody else, he understood that his place in this world was to stand proudly as a man capable of unspeakable violence, inept at the art of killing for the sake of his own gain.

It’s a dog eat dog world. Toji learned this before he even hit puberty, and therefore, he learned what it meant to transition himself into one - a far more gnarly beast than any of the world’s nastiest entities of evil could conjure. If he only had the choice of eating or being eaten, Toji was going to devour before another dog could get the chance to bare his teeth at him.

Well into his familiarity with his own brutality, his craft honed in and sharpened to perfection and his years of youth having flown by with the snap of his fingers, Toji is recognized by a crowd that he’s despised for as long as he can remember.

He is in the middle of a boxing match, one of many he participates in for the hell of it and the cash rather than as a profession, when a representative from the palace ogles him from the crowd, standing out as a sore thumb amidst the screaming patrons clinging to the velvet ropes of the ring, drunk off stinking liquors and spit flying excitedly from their mouths in awe as Toji, undefeated, lands a particularly gruesome blow to the face of his opponent. His foe collapses, blood smearing from his crooked nose, and the jade eyed man filled with years of pent up rage and stress, straddles the nearly unconscious man’s torso and plows his fist into his face repeatedly with wild, shrunken eyes and tight lips.

Toji only takes notice of his visitor in the midst of his abuse, eyes flickering up quickly to mull over the crowd when he finds a terrified face masked in a black cloak, attempting to shrink into the rest of the room. But Toji sees him clearly, a palace ambassador with no place in an underground ring so far from home.

The dark haired man refuses to even look at him as the owner tells him that he has a guest. He unravels the wrap from his stained fists, back tensing. Toji tells him to fuck off, not even having to whip his head around to see who it is. He can tell by his boss’ tone and the silence of the said visitor that he is exactly who he believes him to be. That, and Toji never receives visitors, for the people who are well aware of his reputation stray far away, fearing the worst from his seemingly deadly lust for blood.

His owner, however, does not turn the man away. Toji understands that he must have been paid a good deal in jewels by this cloaked man to allow him to stay back here, not leaving until he asks for some kind of favor. An agitated exhalation rises in Toji’s chest, heavy eyes tossing over his shoulder to glare at the ambassador. He gulps, trembling hands reaching up to lower his hood.

“The fuck do y’want?” Toji spits.

The ambassador’s hesitant gaze scatters over his bare back, his fists, the scars littering his skin and lip, and the murderous glow in his venomous eyes. He looks terrified for his life, face dotted in beads of sweat and eyes still full of innocent light quivering. “I-I’m here on- on behalf of the King and Queen.”

Toji stills, brows drawing together. The man’s words seem to have an impact on his boss, normally an uncaring man, for he leaves with a swiftness once royalty is mentioned, sworn to silence by hush money.

Toji scoffs, shaking his head and turning back around to refocus on his task. “You got the wrong guy,” he dismisses. “Now beat it before I kill ya.”

But he doesn’t, standing his ground rather poorly, clearly shaken by the fact that his life has been threatened for what Toji can only assume to be the very first time. He rolls his eyes at the sentiment, at how weak, fragile, and perfectly stupid palace folk are. “S-Sir, please-”

“Sir?” Toji raises a brow, crouching to sit down heavily on his bench, tossing his bloodied bandages onto the ground before him. His abdominals, bulky and intensely defined, ripple with his movements as he slides his towel from his shoulders, swiping it over his skin roughly. “I ain’t no sir, pal.”

The ambassador stiffens, lips pursing together. “Um- Mr. Toji…?”

Toji twists up his mouth at him unimpressed. “Fushiguro.”

“Yes! Y-Yes, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Christ, it’s just Fushiguro.”

“Oh,” he nods erratically. “Yes, then. Fushiguro,” he clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of great importance.”

“Clearly it is to you lot, or else your dumbass wouldn’t be here,” Toji grumbles, settling a hand on his thigh. “I don’t have time for bullshit. You either get to the point, or the King and Queen are gonna be down one messenger.”

Toji is a violent man. He has had to be violent in order to live, in order to eat, in order to sleep, and now in his late thirties, it has become embedded in who he is. Violence is his first response to every circumstance, to every person who approaches him, to every dirty look that he is thrown, to every unknown within this world that has been nothing but greedy, cruel, and selfish to him.

Even so, he is not always keen on his word when he threatens such things. He knows that if he were to lay a hand on this toothpick, he would be hanged and quartered within the hour, and Toji isn’t too keen on allowing the kingdom dickheads be the reason his life comes to an end after he fought so desperately to even reach past his twenties. This ambassador knows this, and yet, he is still shaking like a leaf as though Toji has any authority over him, because in truth, he does here in his territory, only temporarily. Toji can use the fear he inspires and the intimidation of his capabilities and large frame to attempt to shake a palace ambassador off of his ass, but there is nothing more to his stern words other than a desire to be left alone.

“You must listen,” the little man continues to press. “The King and Queen- t-they send me for the sake of their daughter!”

Toji groans. “I don’t give a shit who they sent you for, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“I fear they are fully aware of who they sent me to speak with,” the ambassador’s brows angle with a sense of urgency. Toji, having been bored by the conversation, rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose and tilts his head tiredly. “N-Not many of us know about the things you do, but I was told to seek out the strongest, and you are… him.”

“What the hell do they want me for? I ain’t got shit for you pricks. Just leave me be.”

“Fushiguro,” he calls again before Toji can stand and turn away. “I understand you may not care about what the kingdom needs, but you are being offered a great deal of money. A generous salary.”

Toji’s ears perk up at this. He rises slowly, sauntering over to the man with slim, suspicious eyes and a taut jaw. Sweat glistens his bare torso, rolled up sweats hanging low on his waist. As he grows closer, the ambassador takes notice of his great size up close, and his eyes widen as he cowers away slightly from the man that casts a shadow over him completely.

Toji stares down over his nose and tilted chin with a frown. “A salary? From the King and Queen themselves?” he repeats, and the man whimpers a hum in affirmation. “The hell is going on? What could possibly be turning their panties in a bunch to offer a job to someone like me?”

“It’s their daughter,” the man re-emphasizes.

“Who?”

“The princess!” he says as though it is obvious, a desperate expression taking his features. “She needs security.”

“From what?”

“The King and Queen grow old, and so does the princess. Their reign is coming to an end, and with that, the princess’s life is often endangered by those seeking to take her right to the crown while her parent’s grow less capable of ruling. There’s already been two assassination attempts and one assault attempt within the past few months,” the ambassador explains, severely. “The princess needs someone to look after her, to be by her side as she prepares to rule as queen and as she looks for a husband.”

“And you want me to be her bodyguard?” Toji raises his brows.

“In a sense… yes.”

The dark haired man snorts in the ambassador’s face, the latter deflating at his reaction. “Of all people, you want me?”

“...Yes. That is correct.”

“What, the brat doesn’t have knights or something?”

“None that are capable of what you do.”

“And how the hell do you know what I do? You come to one match and think you're an expert on my life?” Toji grits his teeth, leering down at the poor man. The ambassador raises his hands in defense, stepping back anxiously. “I see everyone and everything that crosses my path. I’ve never seen you before in my life, and all of a sudden now you show up with a job offer from the fucking King and Queen. Gimme a break.”

He walks off, irritatedly throwing his towel in the corner and ripping open his locker on the other side of the room. “You’re right. I haven’t been watching you, but I’ve been asking around town about someone who could fit the role for weeks, and everyone was too afraid to mention you until a few days ago. Since then, I’ve heard stories.”

“People here like to gossip,” Toji murmurs.

“But your name scares people, right?”

“I don’t care what my name does.”

“Fushiguro, please,” he begs. “I don’t believe you are a man who cares about what happens in the palace-”

“I’m not.”

“But you must care about a sense of duty? Of justice? Of compensation, at least?”

“Obviously I care about money more than I do any of the other shit you just mentioned. But you tell me one thing,” his face hardens. “What the hell has the kingdom done for sorry asses like me, huh? Why should I be the one to help them when they haven’t helped me a day in my life? They’re all a bunch ‘a stuck up, frilly airheads stuck in their own bubble of what they think is urgent. So what if the princess gets a little spooked here and there? Maybe it’ll teach her a life lesson about what the world is really like. ‘Cause I’ll tell ya this, the girls where I come from don’t get to have a bodyguard before bad shit happens to them.”

Toji isn’t entirely sure why he is making a point to shame the people at the top when in the end, he knows he is going to take the job. Money, Toji finds, is incredibly valuable where he is from, and considering the hands he has dirtied in the past to get it, this proposal is practically nothing. Still, that doesn’t mean he likes the kingdom any more for their lack of involvement with the lower classes. His morals, which remain very few, go against this proposal he already knows he is going to accept - slaving away for those who made him a slave to gruesome fates, but hell, what can a man really do when he’s at his wits end and unfathomable riches are being presented to him on a silver platter?

He can complain, yes, but nothing can rank higher than the money the palace is practically drowning in. Besides, he doesn’t have to stay, he thinks. He can entertain this little charade for as long as he has enough funds to set him up for life, and then he’ll be out of there. In and out, quick and easy, and this place would never see his face again.

A grim look befalls the ambassador’s face while Toji rummages through his belongings for his clothes. He is clearly discomforted by Toji’s words, which was the goal the man aimed to achieve in the first place.

“We can not force you to do anything you do not desire to do yourself,” the ambassador starts, and somehow, Toji senses that the man is lying for the sake of making it appear as though Toji has a choice. “But I implore you to consider. The princess is unlike her parents. She is younger, eager. There is a legacy she must carry and people she must lead. Without her, the entire kingdom collapses. Including your village.”

Toji’s nose twitches. “Maybe that’ll do this shithole some good,” he grumbles.

The ambassador sighs, shoulders slumping. “Please… think about it.”

Toji rolls his eyes, turning and knuckling a hand to his hip. “How much money ‘we talking here, buddy?”

And oh, is the pay fucking obscene.

Toji doesn’t think he’s ever fathomed such grand numbers and jewels in his head, having been restricted by his village’s limitations, but once he hears his pay manifested into reality by a simple verbalization, his guilt trip seizes and he is signing his life away almost happily.

From then on, Toji is bound to the likes of you, his signature scribbled messily over a royal contract and securing him to you from now until your death… at least, that is what the fine print says. His plans, however, differ, and when he has fled from you, he will be hundreds of miles out of the kingdom’s reach.

That is his plan. To run away, but you unfortunately do not make this a very plausible task for him.

After days of training that Toji does not at all listen to, of watching elder royalty turn their nose up in disgust at the way he speaks and carries himself, of hearing murmurs of disapproval as he saunters down red carpeting with the head guard to meet yet another person that he will not remember the name or importance of, of being sworn to secrecy - to only serve as a protective, lethal air of silence and nothing more - to refuse any and all physical or verbal interaction with the woman in his protection, and of being fitted into a stuffy black uniform clad with gold detailing that serves only for show since he would have hardly bothered to lift an arm in that uncomfortable ass thing, let alone kill someone, Toji finally meets you.

And he has to admit that you are not at all what he expects.

Adorned in a regal soft pink gown that crowds from your waist and pools down to the floor, cuffing delicately at your wrists through sheer sleeves and tugging over your torso snugly with a corset, you stand before him in your chambers like an angel gracing earth. Your bejeweled gold crown sits upon your head with complementarity and your ringed fingers clasp each other before your lap. You're decked in what Toji can only assume to be century old gems, necklaces, and chains which he has to physically fight himself from reaching to pluck from your body and run off with. Standing before him, he decides that you are worth at least twenty times more than the almost forty years of life he has spent picking around for specs of funds.

The thought agitates him.

While he wishes he can say that he is the only one agitated, he notices a flick of fire in your (e/c) eyes as you size him up, trace your gaze over him with judgment and a pout on your glossed lips. Your presence is almost frightening with power as the two of you stare at each other, him with blank indifference and you with very apparent disappointment.

When the head guard eventually takes his leave now that you are in the hands of your newly bestowed bodyguard, the door closing behind the two of you as you enter the hall in preparation to go handle your duties, you stop in your tracks, dress ruffling along with you. Toji, who has been told to remain ten feet behind you at all times, freezes like a statue, eying you when you whip your head around to glare at him.

Toji’s heard of elegant aestheticism, of the otherworldly beauty that the royal family carries, but he hadn’t believed it until he sees you face to face - though he’ll admit, he imagined you to appear less… aggravated and more peachy? Light. Dimwittedly sugary.

“Listen up,” you demand, a shocking bass carrying in your tone. You’re dominant, he noticed, or at least you are attempting to be. You stand proud, tall, chin lifted and eyes narrow. This certainly isn’t the picture of spoiled naivety that he imagined you to be previously. “I don’t know whatever the royal guard told you, but I’m not a damsel in need of protecting. I didn’t agree to whatever this is or whoever the hell you are invading my life.”

Toji’s brow lifts in intrigue. You certainly are not what he expected. Not at all.

Encouraged by your tone, his lips quirk up into a subtle smirk. You drag your brows together in confusion, eyes catching the scar that stretches over the right side of his lips. “Do you find me amusing?” you frown.

“A little bit,” the dark haired man responds quickly, leading you to reel slightly in shock. He appears so unaffected by you, and you’ve never encountered a person who hasn’t scrambled to kneel in your presence or nervously abide by any and everything you say. The gaul of this stranger, you think, to stand before you so casually and smile as though your position of authority is some sort of joke.

“I beg your pardon?” you scoff. “You should mind yourself when you speak to me.”

“I’m not paid to speak to you, doll, let alone be sweet on you,” Toji scratches under his jaw, his posture slipping into something resembling his nature rather than that of a rigid guard. His hands find the pockets of his uniform slacks, hardly caring at all how disrespectful the stature appears to you. “In fact, I think you’re bein’ a little rude by tryin’ to strike a conversation with me in the first place.”

“Well, I did not advise you to answer me. I expected you to simply listen,” you state firmly. “Clearly, you are incapable of doing so without having something to say.”

Your comment is snarky, judgmental, and Toji at least finds that you match the idea of snobbiness that all royalty withhold. “If I got somethin’ to say,” he starts. “I’ll say it. You don’t gotta worry about me being untruthful with ya, I’ll tell you that. I’ll give it to ya straight.”

“And how do you think the royal guard would feel about such a thing?” you posed. “If they were to hear even a second of what you are saying to me now, you’d be booted from my side and this palace immediately.”

“And what exactly makes you think that I care about that?” he chuckles, watching you shift with sudden uncertainty. This man does not appear to be swayed by you in the slightest, and it is a bit off putting to you as a woman accustomed to your every beck and call being honored. “I thought you weren’t happy about what the ‘royal guard’ had me doin’. Besides, if you wanted me out, you’re the princess, yeah? You could kick me out yourself. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Your lips tighten, eyes digging further together. His attitude is strange to you as well as his dialect, the manner in which he speaks. Even his appearance is strange, for while he is dressed in your palace’s fabrics, he is drabber than everything around you. And even with this royal clothing, his face and build do not match his suit.

He has tired bags under his poisonous haze of ivy hues. Dark tendrils of inky hair sprout over his forehead, his ears, and into his sharp gaze. His facial structure is hard, mature with hints of stubble sprouting over his chin, remnants of what you assume to be the guard forcing him to shave. He’s bulky as well, remarkably so. He’s an unnaturally large man, and his muscles bulge against his clothing as though it is going to burst with the raise of his arm.

His eyes, however, are pools of green you have never seen before - not once in all your twenty seven years of living. While the people that you surround yourself with carry a light in their twinkling gazes sparked by a passion for protecting your throne and the privilege of the lives they lead, your new bodyguard’s eyes are a stark contrast. Even from afar, you can see the exhaustion swirling about them as he looks at you slyly. He’s weary somehow, the windows of his soul revealing a glimpse into his world, into the things he has seen, and that is how you deduce that he is not the same as you. Not at all.

This observation of yours only gives you more reason to question him.

“Who are you?” you command. “You’re not from here.”

“You must be a smart one,” he quips sarcastically.

You grit your teeth. “Answer me, now.”

“You know my name, darlin’. That’s all you need from me.”

“Not if your princess demands to know your identity.”

“You ain’t my princess, girlie,” he stops you. “You’re my job. And I don’t do a lot of talkin’ on the job.”

You make a noise of displeasure, something between a grunt and a gasp, and Toji only revels in the way he has thrown you off. You sputter, taking a step forward with emotion. “Now you wait just a minute-“

“Princess!” a voice calls for you from around the corner, down at the end of the long narrow hallway by your bedroom door. You quickly swish yourself around into the direction of the address, and Toji watches how your dainty fabrics dance along with you, even long after you have stopped moving. Seconds later, an ambassador appears, peeking his head around the wall. “Are you well? You are needed in the second floor den to review some papers regarding your upcoming coronation.”

Frazzled, you nod unceremoniously. “Yes. Yes, my apologies,” you breathe out. “I am coming. My guard and I were just… I was merely informing him of my expectations here on out.”

Toji would have rolled his eyes at the way you all speak, the sound of it on his ears rather exhausting. He can hardly keep up with the properness of it all.

“I see,” the ambassador nods. “I shall inform everyone that you are on your way.”

The man leaves, and you take a moment to breathe in and dust yourself off. You murmur under your breath to yourself what Toji can only deduce as assurances and affirmations, little words you tell yourself to keep your rather striking confidence instilled. You clasp your hands once more, bracelets clinking as you regain your composure. Toji stands in silence, watching boredly.

“Whoever you are,” you begin, turning your head to your shoulder so that your voice is audible. “I don’t need you. Despite what my parents say, I manage fine on my own. Keep your distance.”

The green eyed man watches you walk off, forcing himself to begin following at a reasonable pace. His eyes train on the back of you as you trek ahead, and he finds himself lost in his thoughts, formulating his opinion of you.

You do not take to him easily over the course of your adjustment to each other, and neither does he. You find his presence to be a burden as he trails after you everywhere you go, far more invasive and persistent than your knights have ever been. He becomes your second shadow, and while you are accustomed to having been followed around all your life, Toji’s approach is impossible to ignore.

Even from ten feet away, you feel him there, watching, and it drives you mad.

He’s light on his feet, for if it weren’t for his obvious mass trekking in your footsteps, at times you would have forgotten that he was even nearby. How someone as big as him could travel so quietly, you did not understand.

And worse than his hovering is how foreign he still is to you. You know absolutely nothing about him, and your parents, who you find to be useless in their aging stupors these days, will not bother to tell you anything about where he is from. It isn’t the fact that he frightens you, per say, despite the rather frightening energy that he emits. You notice the way people stare as he follows your path, how they internally conjure their own ideas about who this ominous figure is and what he is doing in a place so very clearly unfit for his type, but you are not scared. You believe him to be a nuisance more than anything, and if he is there to protect you, you feel you have nothing to necessarily worry about in regard to your own safety.

In fact, you feel unfathomably secure, though irritated more often than not.

What you seek from Toji are answers. He abruptly appears out of nowhere under the vow that he will be stuck to you like paste to parchment for the rest of your life, and you are expected not to question his arrival? To question his place of origin? To question what he has done to secure a place as the Princess’ bodyguard with no experience in this field? To question what he has done to be trusted by royalty with your life?

It doesn’t make any sense to you, and you feel that it is unfair to be kept in the dark as the future queen in place of your parents. And every time you try to go to him about it, he either ignores you or gives you that cunning smile, scar stretching and lips spreading.

Toji himself is itching to get out of here the second he’s nestled in. He despises the atmosphere, the sneering looks, the air of shrewdness that envelopes him everywhere he turns. You’re an ungrateful thing, and that only makes his job all the more aggravating. You don’t know how good you have it, and yet you look at him like he’s doing more harm to your life than good when he is literally ensuring that you are out of danger’s path.

He studies you from his position ten feet away, watching how you take on tasks and prepare for the day of your coronation, communicating with villagers surrounding the palace walls with a generous grin and a glowing energy about your presence, and how you patiently sit with your parents at breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day as they practically wither away in their seats. You are always so poised and polite in the presence of other people, authoritative and strong, yet when he is alone with you, you’re wallowing in displeasure, throwing him heated glances and clenching your jaw tightly. You find it hard to behave elegantly in his company, and that fact alone gives him some hint of satisfaction.

But what Toji truly can’t stand above all the waiting that he has to do on you with no sign of action are the meetings you have with princes from far away, seeking to take your hand as their bride and fulfill the role as king. Toji’s found himself biting his tongue more times than he can count when he’s standing with his back pressed to the wall in one of your many tea rooms, the umpteenth shiny haired, pearly teethed virgin bowing his head before you and pompously chanting about all the wonderful things he would bring to your life if you were to allow him to wed you. Toji finds the whole thing ridiculous, for obviously you don’t want to share your crown with another man, especially not a husband, but the unspoken law of your reign requires that you must find someone to stand by your side. And of course after that is done, Toji is still expected to follow you around day in and day out.

And for what? What purpose does this bring him aside from money? He hasn’t even been given his first stipend a month into this little endeavor, and he’s beginning to think that the whole ordeal is a scam, that he had been tricked into a false agreement. He should have known when the guard outright refused to pay him up front beforehand due to their lack of trust in his goals, which in truth was fair, because the Fushiguro would have run for the hills the second he got his hands on those riches. Nevertheless, he’s growing tired of the repetitive tiredness of his routine. He was promised a chance to at least defend your honor by fighting, but despite the King and Queen’s concerns, he has not seen a single threat to your life yet.

At night, a weight drags down on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, how he even came across such a thing. Back home, if the townfolk were to hear about where he had run off to, they’d all laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man hungry for blood now at the will of the government that destroyed his childhood, his life. What a fucking joke.

And you’re so perfect, it destroys him. To be serving such a deplorable image of sovereignty, to see your angelic face decorated in breathtaking clothes and to follow you around like a damn puppy with nothing to show for it. In your company, he is reminded of his place, of how much higher you are than he is. Though Toji is a man who has never cared what the higher class thought of him, in your wake, he feels helpless. He wants to say that he is holding out for a better future, that he is doing this for himself, but it doesn’t feel that way. He knows it’s not for him anymore, but for you, and what could you possibly bring him other than crisis after crisis, heart clench after heart clench, and more bubbling, searing aggravation over his place in society?

You are terribly beautiful, and Toji is not. He sees that the more he’s at your side, taking in the way everyone looks at you in comparison to how everyone looks at him. These palace walls are stuffy. They suffocate him, turn him against himself and almost make him forget who he is, and he can not stand it.

He is convinced he needs to leave in the dead of night, to flee away without a trace left behind, off to a new world with no money and no plan. He believes that it would be a better fate than being stuck here… that is, until he is finally paid.

A monthly salary of a thousand gold and silver pennies combined. He is handed the sack of funds while he is off duty, hours after you have gone to sleep as though the exchange is illegal, and in the privacy of his cabin, his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the money in his grasp. His brow twitches, eyes still and jaw tightening.

He hadn’t believed it to be real before he got his hands on it.

He stares into the bag, into the past years he has spent on his knees crawling for barely even a scrap of this, into the future of tranquility where he can turn to rest without having to bloody his hands for the right to buy a sandwich, into everything he has ever done amounted into far less than one bag of this payment. He’s stupefied with disbelief, with greed, and hurries to escape that very night.

Toji is stripping himself of the bullshit pajamas the guard has sent for him to wear, tucking away the bullshit uniform he’s been snug in for weeks, and stuffing his pay into his beaten bag that he had tossed under his barracks. He changes back into his old clothes, the black shirt that hugs him comfortably and the sweats that pool over his calves, and he sneaks to the door when he pauses.

A glass window breaks just above him, and he whips his head up above. It’s coming from where your room is.

The dark haired man hangs his head low, conflicted. He could go, abandon you and pretend that none of this ever happened. He could go back on his promise to the kingdom, sentence himself to death by hand of royalty if he were to ever be discovered in his new home. He could flee from you, risking the chance of you dying under his protection and run off to live the life he has always dreamed of living, far from home, swimming in gold and silver.

Or he could stay. He could conquer whatever imposing danger he has detected within a half of a millisecond, his senses failing to fool him yet, and save your life. He could keep his promise to this awful society. His promise to you, and remain stuck forever.

Toji is inching out of the door, still pondering, leaning toward the latter hesitantly when a muffled scream rips from the open space of your window that has just been broken in. Your scream.

The dark haired man doesn’t know what takes over him as he drops his bag to the ground and rockets himself through his own window, foot first, to shatter the glass. His hands grip the rim as he flips himself over to face the exterior brick, digging his chipped fingernails into the crevices of the old stone to scale the side of the building that led to your room with swift agility. He claws his fingers into the ledge of your window past the grapple of a rope that was likely used to break in in the first place. A jagged edge of glass cuts his skin, but he hardly feels it due to the roughness of his callouses.

Toji kicks his feet up and piles himself into your room, rolling onto the floor within a matter of at least five seconds. He rises slowly, chest rippling into his tight shirt as he visually locates what harm is befalling you.

You’re on your bed, kicking out against the cloaked figure hovering over you with a dirtied hand pressing over your mouth, his knees kicking open your thighs and another hand holding a dagger to your throat. A bruise circles the eye of the intruder just above the cloth worn over his mouth, likely a result of your fist to his face.

When you look up and find Toji, your panicked eyes widen in relief, your brows pressed together desperately as you screech out against the attacker’s palm. Your hair, normally so meticulously pinned is sprawled messily over your silk sheets, your satin nightgown threatening to ride up your thighs, ripped at the hims, and sweat pools over your chest as it glistens in the moonlight with each heavy, anguished breath you take.

Toji’s eyes go dull, his face blank with something horrifying, yet familiar to him. You tremble, whimpering unintelligible sounds as the intruder turns to face Toji with foolish anger. “Get back!” he shouts through his mask. “Get back or I'll kill her!”

The knife’s tip presses further into your chin and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tight and mustering up whatever strength you have left to turn and push away.

Toji says nothing, staring emptily into your attacker’s eyes.

Toji finds that there is a certain coolness that takes over his body and mind mere moments before he goes in for a kill. He isn’t sure if it's a form of tranquility, or perhaps his fellowship with the act having done so many times over. His eyes gloss ever, and every muscle in his body smoothes out into a relaxed state. He is motionless, still as a sculpture, but his eyes are hungry with rage, flecks of red bleeding into the garden of his IRISES, honing in on his target before he pounces.

You don’t even see Toji move before your attacker is ripped off of you and you can finally breathe, scrambling to press your back to your headboard and stare ahead in horror. You swear you had only blinked, but by the time your teary vision refocuses, Toji is drenched up to his forearm in blood, a curved blade which seemed to manifest out of thin air clutched in his hand. His arm is curved over his mouth, reaching back over his alternate shoulder as though he had just made a slicing motion. His breathing is slow, smooth, and a headless body collapses onto your floor.

Wide eyes of fear-stricken (e/c) stare at the mangled corpse leaking out onto your expensive carpet, and you don’t even notice the splatter of blood that has reached your cheek from Toji’s nimble action. You’re hyperventilating, attempting to gather yourself after having been stolen from your sleep and held at knifepoint, and now suddenly your attacker is dead on the ground. It had all happened so fast. Your head is spinning, and you’re shaking terribly. You can’t even see straight.

With a heavy exhale, Toji lowers his twitching bicep to his side, tossing his weapon off in the corner with a resounding clang! He rolls his head on his neck, stretching it from side to side and cracking it softly, before opening his eyes to find you.

You stare at each other in heavy silence, you in grateful, terrified disbelief, and him with the knowledge of how you will react to his violence. He has seen it before. The screeches that follow, the running that ensues.

He waits for it, but… it doesn’t come.

Instead, you just stare at him like a deer in headlights.

He moves to ask if you are alright, to do something to break the air, when your door bursts open after hefty pounds at your door. Your parents and a few guards, who Toji now sees are quite useless, stand in the doorway, wide-eyed.

Your parents move to comfort you and envelop you in their arms while the guards run to the scene in shock, mulling over the body that lay before Toji. He gets an earful, angry reprimanding about having done such a horrible act right before your eyes, and Toji looks over at you, finding that your eyes are already in him.

You try to speak up and say that he had no other choice, to actually defend Toji in your shaken state, but the authorities around you hear none of it and usher to whisk you away while Toji and a few knights are left to take care of his mess. You look over your shoulder, gluing your gaze to him as you are pulled carefully away.

By the time Toji is finished, cleaned, and has been lectured by the guard, he finds himself rather exhausted, but all he can think about is whether you’re alright or not. He is told that he can find you in the library on the west wing. He ventures out and reaches the space, finding you seated in a lavish sofa before your fireplace with the room guarded by your father and mother who whisper urgently with more knights. When they look up and see Toji, however, they fall silent and immediately part to let him in.

He quietly approaches, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn’t make a sound, but you turn upon sensing him in the room. You’re cuddled into a warm blank that is wrapped over your shoulders, eyes heavy and tears damp. You sit in a sullen state, a still mess.

Toji rounds the sofa to stand far on your left side, body half concealed by the shadows of the unlit side of the library. The fire kindles gently over your face and in your eyes as you stare. Toji thinks that you almost look like a child this way, so vulnerable and disheartened.

He’s seen things like this happen to women every day at home, only he didn’t always make it to help in time. For the first time since knowing you, he sees the same trauma in your eyes, the glimmer of innocence dimming ever so slightly.

The dark haired man is not good with emotions, and he knows for damn sure that he will not know how to approach your own. He isn’t even meant to be speaking with you, but something deep in his bones is compelling him to you after witnessing you in such a horrible state.

It’s his job after all.

“You hurt?”

The question is gruff, blunt, and you look at him but not with an expectation for more. You sit with your knees to your chest as well, a position he has failed to ever see the Princess herself in.

Eventually, you shake your head and look back to the fire crackling before you. “No.”

He hums, darting his eyes over you quickly. He sees a thin line of blood on your chin where the blade had been pointed into your skin. “You lyin’?”

You glance at him tiredly. “I am not injured,” you say again.

“Alright. You’re not injured.”

You look down, picking at your blanket as you chew on the inside of your lip. “…Toji.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you an assassin?”

The question catches Toji off guard, almost making him laugh. “That’s a little personal, doll.”

“I believe I deserve to ask right now. Forget the rules, the guards were not there. You were.”

He relaxes. You’ve got a point. “No. I ain’t an assassin. At least not every day.”

“But you have… done that before…”

“How else do you think I got the job?”

“Right,” you mutter as if reprimanding yourself for asking something so obvious. “You’re rather fast.”

He’s unsure where this stream of questions are coming from. You are still mellow, speaking below a whisper, but your eyes are in a different space away from what is before you.

“Fast’s an understatement,” he mumbles and you give a nod, at least agreeing. “But yeah. I’m fast. Among other things.”

“And how long have you been…?”

“Killing?” Toji concludes the sentiment for you. You clamp your lips, retreating into yourself. “You can say it. It’s not gonna hurt ya.”

“Well, how long?”

Toji shrugs. “A while now I guess. I’m not a killer, but I do what I need to do when I have to.”

You nod, unable to find a verbal response to his words. Your lips purse forward and your eyes still beam into the fireplace in a daze.

Toji crosses his arms. “You scared of me yet?”

You exhale, corners of your lips tugging to the side. “You saved my life,” you say. “I am not scared of someone who has been hired to protect me.”

“That wasn’t really a pretty sight for a princess to see, though,” Toji attempts to reason.

“Yet you were not the man with the knife to my throat, were you?”

Toji falters. Once more, you’re right, but he’s a bit confused. He would have expected you to turn away from him, to reject his violent nature after seeing what he could do. But here you are, complacent with his abilities. Is it because of the shock?

He looks at you closer, but does not see any lingering signs of unawareness, or any stupor that freezes your mind and body. While you still look like you are slightly in a trance, you appear to simply be contemplating instead of suffering from shock.

How are you so chill about all of this?

“I heard you’ve been attacked before,” Toji says rather bluntly. This makes you peek up, locking your eyes with his steely ones from afar.

An exhale shakes your body. “So?”

“So?” he echoes with a scoff. “That’s not a big deal to you?”

“I told you before that I did not need you,” you say somewhat gently. “What you have seen tonight has happened more than you think, and will continue to happen in the future.”

“I hate to break it to ya, doll, but it didn’t look like ya didn’t need me. You didn’t really have much of a choice but to let me help you.”

“I have gotten out of those situations before. I could have gotten out of this one.”

Toji looks at you oddly. “Not from where I was standin’, you couldn’t.”

“I’m not weak,” you frown.

“I didn’t say you were. Hell, I saw the black eye you landed on the bastard before I snuffed his ass out,” Toji grumbles. “But you’re the Princess. Fightin’ isn’t your thing, it’s mine.”

“Do not attempt to fool me into thinking you wish to fight on my behalf,” you look him in the eye as you speak. “After all, you believe me to be inexperienced, don’t you? Sheltered. Naive.”

A moment of silence passes as Toji stares at you intensely, face cold. “Yeah. I do,” he admits. “If you’ve seen enough shit I’ve seen, you’d get why.”

Your eyes dance over his face with a pensive expression of patience. Your brows are slightly angled, denting the spaces between them, yet you breathe so deeply that it almost fools Toji into believing you are at peace.

“When I was six years old,” you start abruptly. “A tutor of mine tossed a candle to my head because I could not complete my times tables correctly. The wax and flame burned my shoulder badly when I tried to dodge. I have worn long sleeve gowns since,” you confess.

The dark haired man frowns, befuddled while you proceed.

“My grandmother, who had been heavily involved in my bringing when I was a child, was obsessed with cleanliness. Every night before I went to bed, she would inspect my room to ensure that it was tidy. If a single spec of dust was found on my floor, she would raise the back of her hand and smack me clear across the face. ‘You are a princess,’ she would say. ‘Princesses do not behave like slobs.’ Then she’d make me clean the room all over again. If it was still not to her liking, she would continue to hit me, and so on. I had welts on my body for years. I would try to ask my parents to tell her to stop, but they ranked her authority over my own every time. They believed her to be teaching me discipline. Now I do not sleep at night without inspecting every inch of my room for anything that is out of place.”

Toji’s face smooths slowly into something unreadable as he listens to you.

“When I was seventeen, I learned that men sought to ruin me. Diplomats and countrymen would visit with the same look in their eye when they saw me as I grew, seeking to force their hand to mine. One of them was banished after having been caught throwing himself onto me when I was alone. He left bruises on my arm from gripping me too hard when I tried to run away.”

Toji falters completely now, internally guffawed by your revelations.

“Over the years, I have been beaten, assaulted, and almost killed by those close to me, by those envious of me, and by those who want but can not have me. And now, with the influx of assassination attempts, I can do nothing but what I have been doing all my life; stand strong and kick.”

Your eyes swirl with honesty and grief as they lock with Toji’s pools of torment. “I may not know who you are, nor do I know where you came from or what you have been through, but do not assume that because we do not share the same origins that I am a stranger to the world’s cruelty. The kingdom tricks you into believing that we are a perfect society, when in reality, we are tainted by dark secrets swept under the rug and generational traumas. I have seen enough of reality within these palace walls surrounded by people I am meant to trust, only I do not trust any of them but myself.

“I can see it in your eyes that you are broken too. You carry yourself in such a way, but do not allow that to blind you from any hardships I have experienced in my life. We are not the same, but I know inhumanity very well.”

Toji, rendered speechless for the first time in a very long time, watches as you lean over and reach to the other side of the sofa for something on the floor. You gradually reveal his satchel, the one he had dropped to rush to save you, and sit it on the cushion beside you. Toji’s eyes widen slightly when the contents of his bag clink together like wind chimes brushing each other in the wind.

“One of the royal guard found this in the hall,” you say calmly, lowering your hand back under your blanket. “I told him to let me hold onto it. That you must have misplaced it. Were you planning to leave tonight?”

Toji exhales, threading his fingers through his hair and glancing over the floor. Still moved by what you had told him about your upbringing, the man finds himself caught off guard once more by your confrontation. You’re smart, he has to hand it to you. Much smarter than he had previously given you credit for.

“Let’s face it,” Toji sighs. “You and I both know I don’t belong here. The whole kingdom knows. This place isn’t where I’m s’posed to be.”

“And still you took the job anyway,” you challenge. “This was your scheme all along? To take off with the first bit of money you acquire from watching over me?”

“Do you expect anythin’ more?”

“I expected you to be wiser,” you admit.

“I am bein’ wise.”

“By fleeing from the only life of luxury that you have ever known?”

“I don’t live in luxury here, doll. I’m your bodyguard.”

“Even so, your bag is full of enough money to buy yourself a home, and that is only the first monthly payment. That isn't a luxury to you?”

“Luxury, to me, is doin’ what I want when I want it without havin’ to worry about anything else ever again.”

“Then where are you supposed to be?”

“Far from here.”

“You did sign a contract, you know. The guard and my parents would not take well to your abrupt absence. You would be treasoned.”

“Which is why I’d be long gone before they could find me.”

You sigh, turning away. Toji monitors you for a sign of disappointment, of anger, of desperation, but instead you remain indifferent. “I will not stop you if you choose to go,” you say.

Toji cocks a brow, lowering his arms to his sides. “You won’t?”

“You are your own man with your own ability to make decisions. I do not fault you for wishing to leave. I do not know you well enough to do so.”

Toji eyes you harshly, stepping closer and breaking the barrier of a ten foot distance. He approaches the other side of the sofa, peering down at you heavily as if to piece you apart. “You’re just gonna let me go,” he tests. “The hell do you gain from that?”

“Must it be about what I gain?” you ask.

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not more pissed about this.”

“Toji, I was the Princess before you came and I will continue to be the Princess after you leave. I am not angry about what life you choose to live if it is separated from mine. I do not know what is best for you. That’s for you to decide.”

“And what about your guard?”

“They will be fine.”

“What about you?”

You soften. “I will be fine too.”

His mouth twitches. “I ain’t convinced.”

“Do you wish to leave or not?” you question. “You can not worry for my sake and desire to run away at the same time.”

“I ain’t-“ he stops himself, shaking his head and pressing his hands into the armrest. He wants to deny caring about what will happen to you, but his current hesitation over leaving proves otherwise. “You coulda died.”

“I could have died many times,” you counter. “I always manage.”

“And if one day, you don’t?”

“That will not happen.”

“Yeah, only if I’m there.”

You raise your brows and Toji catches himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He glances at his bag and reminds himself of his future, of his plans, of his life, and then he looks back at you, swarming in your wool blanket with such lovely eyes. Free of your jewelry, your crown, and your extravagant gowns and makeup, you look more human. You look softer, and Toji battles a newfound internal conflict - his growing desire to stay.

Slowly, a soft smile rises to your lips that does not reach your eyes. Your soft skin, aglow by the flames before you, illuminates the warmth of your expression. “Do not tell me you are beginning to feel a duty toward me?”

“Duty ain’t in my vocabulary,” Toji defends, looking away.

“Then why are you still here?”

He catches the testing look on your face and exhales in weary amusement. “Don’t get smart with me now, Princess. You won’t win that battle.”

“Just make up your mind, Toji,” you tilt your head and toss him a knowing look.

You carefully shift and maneuver your body around so that you are laying your head on the cushion with your legs curled up to you, Toji’s bag still sitting on your left. The said man’s eyes follow the motion. “What’re you doin?” he asks.

“I’m going to try to get some rest,” you murmur, though you do not close your eyes. You stare ahead in exhaustion, but no urge to sleep comes over you. “You may do as you please. If you are not here in the morning and your bag is gone, I will assume that you have left.”

Toji looks back at his bag, torn. He’s itching to grab it, to swipe it up in his grasp and make a break for it, but there you are. The Princess, soon to be Queen of everything Toji has ever resented, and suddenly he feels a human connection to you. The things you told him, the steadiness of your voice as you spoke, the maturity in your eyes, the hidden, harbored scars, the arrogant will you carry to proceed into this life alone despite your susceptibility to harm… it got to him.

And when he saw your face as you lay trapped under your intruder, how your body writhed with the involuntary will to fight despite your disadvantage, Toji was taken completely by an urge, a responsibility to protect you. To look after you. To kill for you.

Therefore, neither of you say a word when Toji moves to pick up his bag and toss it onto the floor. In its place, he sits at your feet and tosses his arms over the back of the headrest, legs sprawled out before him as he watches the fire beside you.

He stays there until the sunrise, and solidifies his fate.

After that night, Toji feels himself changing. Time goes by and you only grow stronger, approaching your coronation swiftly and taking on the role of Queen with regal pride. Toji finds himself staring at you when he’s by your side, which you have appointed him to after having a tense conversation with the royal guard, resulting in him no longer having to linger ten feet away at all times. He stands rather closely now when it is appropriate to do so, glaring ahead menacingly as he towers over your frame while you conduct meetings or speak with foreign princes and diplomats, who Toji keeps a sharp eye on with the knowledge of what you shared with him about your past interactions.

He thinks of the pressure that weighs over you, and studies how you harbor so along with your traumas with so much poise. You don’t allow the things you have gone through to weigh you down, to deter your path, and he grows impressed with the strength of your mind. Without such, you likely would not be where you are today.

Toji becomes one of the very few people you entrust your life with, if not the only person you fully trust to take your life into his hands. Despite his initial plans to leave you, he proves himself loyal to you, standing guard outside your room every night instead of retreating to his chambers and preventing disasters before they even happen. With his keen senses and hawk-like gaze, he catches suspicious figures in crowds, which he can recognize easily due to his upbringing as well. He used to be one of those lurking shadows, stalking packed spaces to find a target, only he was always too swift to be caught.

Toji now takes to disposing of the people who mean you harm in private, away from your vision. While you are well aware of his capabilities, Toji has a tendency to become borderline sadistic when killing for you. Inspired now by his respect for you and your budding relationship, the honesty in your eyes and the sanctity of your life in his hands, he is more ruthless than he ever has been before in private, and he does not want you burdened by the vision. The guard does not question him, taking to caring for your parents and watching the palace walls while Toji handles the direct threats unto you. No one in the palace questions him any longer, for you have grown close to him and he to you, and the proof of him risking himself time and time again for the sake of you forces all heads away and onto the next thing.

During the day, he is still and mute, a brick wall of eerie, bulky freight, but at night when you are alone, he’s making you laugh, sharing stories with you about gruesome bar fights he has been involved in and past jobs that have given him a run for his money. You always listen with curiosity, eyes bright with intrigue as a long forgotten book lay in your lap as you watch him, absorbing tellings of a world far from your reach. He does his best to leave out gory details, like the things that tend to keep him up at night, the things he is ashamed of having lived, but you always understand. You can always see more of him than he lets on in his gaze, how he stands and tenses, how he looks away after having held your gaze for too long.

The dark haired man finds that he has never felt such security that you bring him, that while he keeps you safe, he feels safe in your defense, in your presence, in your path. You ease his mind somehow with your gentle grace and your unearthly beauty, with your loud cackles that he draws from you after dinner when he walks you to your room, a far cry from the contained chuckles you allow to slip when cozying up to someone for diplomatic and political purposes.

You ease his mind with your warm grins, your soft hands that brush his arm when you get his attention, with the sweet breath that tickles his ear when you lean up to cup your hand over your mouth and whisper something to him. He always has to lean down for you as you reach up on your tiptoes, informing him of a task he must carry out in secret when all he can think about is the shiver that racks his spine when your coo of a whisper flutters directly into his ear.

Toji does not want to admit that you make him feel strange when he starts to notice the way his chest tightens as you brush past, the air of your perfume lingering in his nose. He does not want to admit that this foreign warmth he now feels takes over his entire being, melting his hardened soul after he believed it to be beyond repair. He does not want to admit that he recognizes this feeling as love solely because he has never felt it before, never experienced the visceral pump of his blood into his heart or the honeyed comfort that slips into his understanding of lust. He does not want to admit that you attract him as more than someone he wishes to ravish, but as someone he has come to cherish deeply.

He does not think it affects his job, for he has been at your side for nearly a year when you are finally appointed Queen and he still performs incredibly well. He stands at the upper corner of the grand hall, diamond chandelier twinkling brilliantly above your head in your wake as you inch your way down the aisle and up the purple velveted carpet. The kingdom watches you in awe, your gold encrusted gown dragging delicately over the floor, manicured hands clasped before you as you approach with your chin high and your chest puffed. You are a vision of artistry, of indescribable, unfathomable beauty, and Toji knows he loves you when he catches himself smiling gently as he watches you graze the room like fresh dew beaming on a crisp, sunlit morning.

There is no sign of an attack when your new crown is placed upon your head, thanks to Toji and the word of his talents spreading like wildfire across villages, lands, and kingdoms alike. The entire world by now must know of the Queen’s bodyguard, who sticks to her side like glue and wipes out anything that even thinks of creeping into her path. His reputation proceeds him once more, yet now, he is proud of who he has become. He is proud, now, that he is killing for the good that is you, a woman deserving of every goodness that comes to her in this world, instead of for his own survival.

You do not marry. You refuse once you gain the power to deny the visiting of any more suitors, much to Toji’s relief. He had never been a fan of watching men kiss your feet, take your pretty hand in theirs and look you in the eye with a bent knee. He would have killed them all if you had not frowned upon so, for he did not believe anyone to be as deserving of a woman working to rebuild the economy for the sake of Toji’s village and all those who suffered along with him with such compassion and selflessness, not even him - as much as he cared for you.

Somehow, Toji’s duty to you triumphs over his desire for you. While he struggles, he respects you more than he has respected any human being in his life. His job is to make sure that you live, and that you do so peacefully and happily. You have transformed him into a noble man, and how you did so, he barely knows. What he does know, however, is that he loves you as much as he honors you. You are his Queen, he is your bodyguard - your right hand. He would never interfere with the boundaries set between the two of you, with the responsibility he has to you.

Consequently, he stubbornly pushes away the telling looks that you share with him, your eagerness to jest, to press your touch to him and feel you near him, to remind yourself that he is still there.

He knows. He sees it in your eyes, the unspoken yearning, the reason why you do not wish to marry anyone else, and you know that he knows, but he says nothing. He breaks his gaze away, he guides you back with a gentle hand to your waist and upper arm, and he leaves you every night, redrawing the line, keeping you at such a close distance.

It’s been two years. The two of you now know one another better than you’ve known anyone, and Toji has been with you through thick and thin, through the death of you parents, the conflict with the council over the uncertainty regarding a future heir, your silent fatigue that only shows itself at the end of the day when no one else is looking and it is only you and him as he bids you good night. He’s seen it all, and you have seen him just as clearly.

Tonight is no different as you enter your room sluggishly, sinking into the edge of your bed as you gaze ahead, an emptiness in your eyes. Toji stands at your door, examining you sternly. You look beat, aged by the years and the burden of ruling. The veil of composure lifts from you, and you slump, gown crowding over the floor and your aching feet, which dangle over the bed.

Wordlessly, the dark haired man sighs and closes the door behind him. Within a second, he is kneeling before you, calloused hands grazing over the many layers of your gown to delicately cup your ankle. His touch pulls you back to reality and you look down, brows curling ever so subtly.

Toji cradles the back of your ankle and grips the stem of your glass heel. He slowly glides the cramping footwear from your foot, setting it to the side once it is free from its confinements. You watch him with ardor swelling in your gaze, his hands so rough when handling others, smoothing over your skin as though you are fragile.

He moves to your other shoe and glances up when he catches you staring in that way that makes his heart ache. “What is it, doll?” he murmurs, the nickname he bestowed upon you once condescendingly having stuck in a sweeter, more genuine manner.

You don’t answer. You only gaze gratefully, tiredly, while Toji sets your other shoe to the side. He stays down on his knee, looking up at you.

“You alright?” he asks and you sigh deeply.

“You are the only person in this world I feel I can be myself with,” you eventually say earnestly, gently. Toji blinks, shifting slightly and nodding slowly.

“Back at ya,” is all he can manage to say under your loving stare. He almost feels suffocated by the way your eyes swallow him whole. “I get what you mean.”

“Everyone is just so-” you lift your hands in an attempt to physically depict what you want to say, but the words fail you and your arms stall in the air. “So-”

“Shitty?” Toji fills in with his own words for it, and you smile with a light giggle.

“Yes,” you drop your hands to your lap. “Shitty.”

Toji chuckles, the sound of you cursing still so funny to him. “Don’t I know it,” he agrees. He looks over your gown before back into your eyes, preparing to stand. “I’ll go call for the maids so they can’t get you outta this thing. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t,” you shake your head the second he moves to get up. He stops, sinking back down. “Not right now. I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”

Toji clenches his jaw, your words so sweet it kills him. “Don’t you wanna change? You get cranky in this thing after dark,” he jokes.

“I know,” you say. Something flickers in your eyes as you look over his figure, a hint of desire swirling into weariness. “You do it.”

Toji furrows his brows. “What?”

“I want you to help me out of my dress instead,” you whisper. The green eyed man thinks he must have heard you incorrectly, his eyes going wide as he registers your request. “There’s nightgowns in that dresser over there. Bring one to me.”

“(Y/n),” he warns, heart fluttering and skin flushing over his chest. “I’m not gonna do that. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you press. “As your Queen, I am giving you a task.”

“Yeah, but-” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna strip ya. That ain’t… I won’t do that.”

“Toji,” you lean forward, lids heavy over your eyes. You call his name sternly, yet still so quietly, and he can not help but bide by your will each time his name slips from your tongue in such a way when you need him. “I am asking you to help me. It is not wrong if it is what I want.”

“It’s wrong ‘cause I’m your bodyguard, not your-”

His words die in his throat before he can finish his sentence. “Not my what?” you mumble.

He gets lost in your gaze, in your scent, and he is struggling to find the words. His face is tense, brows knitted and lips curled, his scar creasing along with them. “I’m not in any place to do this stuff. You know that.”

“You are because I say that you are.”

“Anyone ever tell ya you can be a little cocky?” he smirks lightly to sway the mood.

“Yes,” you roll your eyes. “You have.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he snickers. “Well, you are.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Help me out of this dress.”

“Doll-”

“Now.”

Toji exhales, for he finds that he has no other choice once you have made up your mind about something. He pushes himself to his feet and stands over you, holding his hand out to you. “C’mon,” he mutters.

You slip your dainty handy into his palm and allow him to pull you up gently to your feet. Your face meets his chest, his height never failing to shock you up close, and when you look up he’s already peering down at you with heavy eyes.

“Show me how to undo this thing,” he says impatiently under his breath, and you can tell by his hastiness that his nerves are jumping.

“I will, but you need to take your time. It’s fragile,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Alright.”

“Can you remove my jewelry?”

He inhales sharply. “Alright,” he says again.

You turn slowly, moving your hair out of the way to expose your neck to him. He grits his teeth, seeking some sort of self control as his fingers move to unclasp your many chains of expensive necklaces. His knuckles brush your skin, and he watches as bumps ghost over your neck after he has touched it.

Your scent invades him as his hands lower over your shoulders to bring your necklaces down from your chest. His chest bumps against your back accidentally, brushing over your shoulders, and you both twitch at the contact. God, he feels like a teenage boy, losing himself over breathing you in.

You tell him to go place the necklaces on their stand on your armoire, then to find a nightgown for you to wear. Toji feels weak, rifling through your clothes as though it is a sin to even be seeing them. Your silk fabrics smooth over his fingers before he pinches one into his hand and brings it to lay out on your bed.

“Now, see the string tying my corset in the back?” you ask over your shoulder, Toji humming distractedly when he locates it and stands behind you again. “Unravel it.”

As though entranced by your demand, he does, despite every voice in his heading screaming in protest. He should not be with you like this, the Queen, so privately in your room lit daily by the kiss of candlelight and swarmed by the scent of patchouli incense and your damned perfume. Toji’s head feels hazy, thick digits tugging at your string and drawing it out slowly, watching as the ribbon unfolds and drapes down your train.

“Now what?” he murmurs.

“Loosen it so I can take it off.”

“Heh?” he scrunches his brows, looking over the weaving of the lace between your corset.

“Just peel either side of the corset back,” you clarify. “Now that it’s untied, it will come apart.”

He obliges with uncertainty, cautiously tugging back either side of the thick fabric, the lace stretching and pooling over your back. “Okay, I’m going to raise my arms so you can pull it over my head.”

“Jesus, this thing is so damn extra.”

“Be quiet and just do it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You lift your arms into the air and Toji catches the way your curves peak out. His eye twitches as he pulls the corset over your head, off your arms, and from your body. A second corset, thinner and more form fitting, graces your waist and exposes your bare back to him, as well as the healed burn on your right shoulder that you told him about so long ago.

He clears his throat, setting the outer corset onto the bed with his fingers stilling on your hip. “What now?” he asks.

“Do the same with the rest. This one’s connected to the bottom part.”

“...What about your… uh…”

“There’s another layer under it, don’t worry,” you assure him. “Why? Is my fierce and scary bodyguard nervous?”

“Don’t even,” he grumbles and your shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

The ruffle of your clothing fills the air as Toji works his fingers through the second set of lace, loosening it and pulling it from your body. You slide your arms from the thin straps of this layer and allow Toji to drag the fabric down. His eyes train on the way it smooths over your frame, a nude colored set revealing as he pulls, pulls, pulls until the fabric is pooling around your ankles.

All that you are covered in now is a hoop cage over your hips and sleeveless underwear the same shade as your skin tone that holds you sinfully tight. Toji’s heart is in his ears and the blood in his body is surging out everywhere, including toward his crotch. He’s biting down on his teeth so hard as he holds your arm and helps you step out of the net like framing for your gown, breaths labored.

Your dazzling (e/c) hues catch his as his hand lingers on your waist and your arm, his figure now before you again. He keeps a tough facial expression, but his eyes yet again give him away as he coolly takes in your body, the way your cleavage pools out of your garments and your skin milks into a breathtaking glow.

You feel his thumb swipe over the curve of your back, experimentally caressing the space as his other hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder. His thumb touches your chin, reels back hesitantly, then touches again, sliding delicately over your cheek. You welcome the contact, your hands raising to press against his lower abdomen as he lingers over you, so closely, so intimately. You can feel his abdominals, rigid and tense, contract beneath your palms though they are barely touching him, and you look down at how small your fingers look pressing into the wall of his stomach.

“Doll,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and husky as it breathes out. You hum, lashes fluttering when his hand slides to hold the entire side of your face. He melts before you, your beauty so striking that it almost scares him, and nothing has ever scared Toji Fushiguro before. “You need to get to bed.”

“In a bit,” you mutter, gaze wandering over his lips and back up to his eyes. You sink into him, inching closer until he’s surrounding you, swarming you. “Stand with me like this longer.”

“I can’t stay here much longer. You know that.”

“What I say goes. I say you can.”

“(Y/n).”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head as he looks over your features softly. “I do not care.”

“Well, I do,” he says, brushing a piece of hair gently from your forehead. You lean into his palm, a soft pout on your lips. “I’ve got one job, and that’s to keep you safe, y’understand?”

“And that is all this is?” you murmur, eyes darting over him. “That is the only reason you protect me? Because it is your job?”

He tilts his head slightly, smoothing his hand up and down your spine as you push yourself closer to him. Against his better judgment, against his instincts, he allows you. Even if just for a moment. Even if he never gets to feel you this way again, so plush against him, yearning and wistful.

“You know that ain’t true,” he tells you.

You bring your hands up, smoothing them up to his chest and you coo. “So stay,” you beg. “Please.”

“You’re killin’ me, y’know that?” he exhales, his nose brushing against yours as you close in on him, just centimeters away from his lips.

He holds you, shares the same breath as you, and in this moment he forgets about the barrier between you. He forgets where he came from, he forgets what your role in this world is, he forgets his duty to you and how complicated it is that it has now molded into some emotional connection. He forgets that you will need to marry one day to continue your legacy, that he himself is not a King nor a man of royalty, that he was born of hate and abandonment while you were born to be something. He forgets, as your warmth consumes him and the taste of you is so close he can smell it, that he could never take your relationship beyond what it already is. That he is not, and never has been, a man made for love yet somehow you have fooled him into believing that he is made for loving you.

“Why are you fighting me,” your eyes close, fingers inching over his shoulders and arms wrapping around his neck.

“‘Cause I can’t let myself do this to ya,” he grumbles.

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Do you love me?”

The question is a heated gasp against his mouth, and Toji, no longer harboring the willpower to push away from you, can only respond honestly.

“Y’know I do.”

Your fingers tangle into his silky black hair and his hand brings your faces together. “Then stay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips feel like a fluff of cloud melting into his, the rich, sugary taste of your mouth clashing into his own. You’re soft against his hard body as you crush into him, swooning and sinking as though you no longer have the strength to stand and he is catching you, bringing you to him as though it is the last time he will ever touch you in such a way, the last time he will ever have the privilege of tasting your sacred mouth.

Toji is a rough man, but he handles you gingerly, gradually as he savors you for everything his life has ever been worth. You overstimulate him with your mind numbing squeezes and the gentle sounds of satisfaction that slip from your throat into his. Toji thinks he can die blissfully happy as he encircles you, ravaging your lips with hard brows and a fuzzy mind. He crowds over you, so tall and big that you have no choice but to succumb to all of him in his embrace. He overpowers you, and you adore it, ruffling messily through his locks as his hands wander your hips generously, appreciatively, lovingly.

He guides you back, leaning over with his hand firm to your back to ease you onto your bed, lips still locked. His body is thinking for itself as his lips swarm you, tongue gliding into yours and searching every space of your cavern. You arch into him needily, sensually, and Toji pushes further though remaining mindful not to hurt you. He wouldn’t dare.

Your thighs lift to crowd his torso as he curves down into you, hovering over your gorgeous body. His lips crash into your cheek, over your jaw and down your neck, sliding his tongue hungrily over your skin with heady groans. Your lips part and your head tosses back onto your sheets, hushed gasps and contented sighs spilling from you, and even the noises you make are as angelic as you are.

His large hand cradles your head as he ducks down to care for your chest, hot lips sucking over your skin like he is enjoying a meal. Your hands tighten in his hair, his mouth easing you into astounding pleasure before his lips are back on yours, more desperate, more lustful.

“Toj…” you moan and he grunts into you, arms caging you beneath him and lower half pressing into your own. Your blurry eyes peer past strands of his hair as he consumes you, kisses you, worships you.

“Yeah, darlin,” he exhales into your mouth as your bodies writhe against the barrier of clothing. “Talk t’me. What is it, my girl?”

“Do not… mmm, don’t leave me. Not tonight,” you plead in between weighted kisses.

Toji pulls back to look you in the eyes, hands exploring all over you. “Nothin’ could take me from you now, doll,” he swears, pupils enlarged and shrinking the green expanse of his eyes. “I’ll take good care of ya, promise. I swear on m’life. I got you, baby, I got ya.”

You whimper and his lips find yours again, kissing into you his promise of devotion.

Toji swaddles you with love for hours on end, into the early morning, molding marks of his loyalty over your stomach and down your legs, kissing over your scars, and pulling release after release from your core. He’s tender, firm but soft as he makes love to you and molds the shape of him into your essence. Imprints of your fingernails into his skin and your teeth marks into his shoulder encourage him to drag every moan, every ounce of fluid from your body. And god, you feel better than Toji could have ever envisioned. You’ve ruined him with your passion, with your pretty entranced gazes and your loving kisses, your insatiable need for him to give you more and for yourself to give him more. You’re sweet. So sweet, and Toji loves you more than himself, therefore he promises to give you what you want tonight and to return to his responsibility tomorrow.

It is his duty to you after all, to protect you, to love you from afar.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fluff #toji x you #toji zenin #toji headcanons #jjk au #jjk au x reader

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arminsumi · 11 months

Note

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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nightingale-prompts · 7 days

Text

Sparing Batboy

First | Previous | Next

"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.

It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.

"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.

Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."

"Dick this is not the time to-"

"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.

Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.

Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.

Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.

Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.

But what can he do now?

He just wanted to find his son.

He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.

A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.

There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.

Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.

And something just snapped.

In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.

He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.

In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.

Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.

"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.

"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.

"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.

She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.

Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.

"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.

"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.

"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.

"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.

Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.

"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."

"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.

"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.

"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.

(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)

(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc joker #dc comics #dp clockwork #dp nocturne

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lev1hei1chou · 5 months

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 384 Synopsis: You fall asleep on Gojo Masterlist

You and Satoru Gojo had been dating for quite some time now, facing curses and missions together. Despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives, there were moments of peace that made everything worthwhile. Tonight was one of those rare calm evenings.

After a long day of exorcising curses, the two of you found yourselves back at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High School dormitory. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the room as you and Gojo settled onto the couch, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

In the midst of casual conversation, fatigue took its toll, and your eyes began to droop. Sensing your weariness, Gojo chuckled softly, a grin never leaving his face.

"Well, well, looks like someone's ready for a good nap," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a tired glare, your lips curving into a half-smile. "Shut up, Gojo. It's been a long day."

But Gojo wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to tease. As you rested against him, your head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder, he couldn't help but comment, "You know, you're surprisingly light when you're asleep. Almost like a baby bird."

You groaned, both amused and annoyed. "Can't you be serious for once?"

Gojo's laughter rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arm around you protectively. "Who said I can't be serious? I'm just making observations. Besides, it's kinda cute."

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled something unintelligible, drifting further into the realms of sleep. Gojo continued to hold you close, his teasing demeanor softened by a rare tenderness. The room fell silent, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of two exhausted souls.

Time passed, and eventually, you stirred awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found Gojo watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," he said, his tone still laced with humor.

You yawned and stretched, realizing the position you were in. "Guess I dozed off, huh?"

"Just a little," Gojo replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "But you were adorable, so I'll let it slide this time."

You shot him a playful glare, swatting his arm. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"But you love me for it," he retorted, pulling you into a tight hug.

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awearywritersworld · 1 year

Text

the three times gojo thinks he might be in love and the time he knows for sure

gojo satoru x reader summary: title says it all w/c: 1k tags/warnings: ft baby megumi. fluff, then some more fluff. gumi refers to reader as mom. one curse word. brief reference to canon typical violence. a/n: i am ridiculously soft for this man. he needs a hug masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

the first time it happens, it's the dead of winter and you're both still teenagers. it's the year before the star plasma vessel mission, when everything in gojo's life feels like it's falling into place. he has friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.

you drag him, kicking and screaming (it's all for show, he'd go anywhere with you), out to a snow covered field. you innocently beg him to turn off limitless, and of course he acquiesces, only to be pelted in the face with a snowball.

he throws himself into the snow upon impact, arms flailing dramatically. "i'm dead! you've killed me!"

you join him on the ground, arms out stretched and nudging the fabric of his coat. "hm, then i guess i'll have to drink all the hot chocolate by myself-"

"i have returned to the living realm!!" he shouts, shooting up into a sitting position. "had to fight god for it, told 'im i couldn't bear to leave my (y/n)-chan!"

"oh, you are so full of shit," you accuse with an amused smile.

you gaze at one another as the snow falls around you silently, both somehow feeling warm despite the frigidness of the air. his glasses have slipped down his nose, giving you a glimpse at his eyes. you're thinking about how the flakes blend in with his lashes before melting away entirely. he's thinking that he might be in love with you.

~~~

some time passes before the second instance, which takes place in the spring. gojo makes his way around campus, looking for wherever you and megumi ran off to. the small boy has been attached to your hip ever since gojo brought him home two years ago.

when he finds you, you're both splayed out in the grass and pointing up at the clouds.

"that one looks like a dog!" megumi exclaims excitedly.

"and that one looks like it might be his ball, don't you think?" you question. he agrees wholeheartedly with an enthusiastic nod.

after awhile, megumi sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "can we go inside now, mom?"

there's a split second he doesn't realize what he's said, but when it dawns on him, he looks down right scared. "'m sorry!"

your features soften and your heart soars before you're gathering him up in your arms.

"oh, my sweet boy," you coo.

rocking him back and forth, you hold him for a few passing moments. he hides his face in your chest, his hands gripping onto your shirt as if it's his life line.

you pull away just enough to see his face. you'd do anything to stop the tears swimming in his eyes, just like any mother would. "you can call me whatever you like 'gumi."

"p-promise?"

"yup!" you assure, bopping his nose with your pointer finger. it earns a small giggle.

gojo watches as you rise from the ground, megumi's head now resting on your shoulder and his arms around your neck. you're humming as you walk back toward the buildings.

gojo's legs are like lead and his heart feels as if it's shifted up into his throat. for the first time, he thinks about getting married, about having a family. your face is at the forefront of every image that forces itself into his mind.

~~~

the third time happens in the dead of night. megumi is asleep and the two of you decide to watch a movie, but you're yawning before he even presses play.

you sit so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiate from his body and although you fight to keep your eyes open, you can't help but be lulled to sleep.

he tenses for a moment when your head lands squarely on his shoulder. it seems as if you're both frozen, but then you let out a soft snore as your body shifts and your hand moves to his stomach. he finally relaxes.

your hair had fallen across your face and he pushes it back behind your ear so that he can see you. he tries to ignore the urge to brush his fingers across your cheekbone, or over your bottom lip. he fails.

gojo remains still for hours, and it feels strange to the usually hyperactive man, but he's terrified of disturbing you. terrified that you'll pull away from him and he'll never get to feel like this again.

he lets that stupid movie play through twice, but he spends most of the time stealing glances at you. he does eventually turn the tv off and the only sounds that remain are the trill of summer crickets outside his window and your soft, slow breaths.

he has no idea what time it is when he falls asleep, but when he finally does, he dreams about that day in the snow.

~~~

leaves fall at your feet as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk. every now and then, your fingers brush against his and it makes his heart skip a beat. he wonders (hopes?) if anyone has mistaken you for a couple.

you come across a familiar mansion, one that the two of you exorcised together as teenagers. it feels like a lifetime ago. you stop at the gate, a bronze glint on the ground catching your eye.

crouching down, you brush away shades of orange and red to reveal a memorial for all the people who had died on the once cursed property.

"for the lives that were taken here, and for the lost soul who took them... may they rest now in the afterlife."

gojo scrunches his nose, about to make some comment about how pitiful it was to commemorate a cursed spirit, but the words die in his throat when you look up at him with watery eyes.

"this is so beautiful," you remark, turning back to the engraved words.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down to read over the words once more. maybe he'd missed something?

"this community was so fearful, remember? people lost friends and family here." he nods even though you aren't looking at him, watching how your fingertips move across the words as if you're considering them further. "the spirit scared them and it stole from them, but they still regard it with sympathy and kindness.. it takes strength to do that, you know?"

he feels his chest tighten as he registers your words. for a fleeting instance, he feels like an asshole for ever finding it pitiful, but that was the thing. you have such an easy way about you, a sort of gentleness he had yet to find in anyone else. the time he spends in your company seems like the only respite he ever gets from the horrors of the world.

he hasn't answered you yet, so you look back to him expectantly. "don't you think it's beautiful, 'toru?"

god, he could fall to his knees right then and there. he could roll over and die on the chilly concrete and he'd consider it a privilege to have died by your side.

i love you. i love you. i love you. those are the only three words his brain can muster.

"yeah," he finally chokes out. "it really is."

#m!writes #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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chloe-petrichors · 13 days

Text

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins.

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers. “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys vaaryon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen fanfic #jacaerys targaryen imagine #my writing

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some-bunniii · 5 months

Text

Lucifer dotes on a mama!reader

・❥ Caring for an infant isn’t easy, but luckily, you’ve got a charming king willing to do anything for you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: reader is fem, no use of y/n.

xx: it’s here! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, but lots of think you’ll enjoy it! keep your eyes out for some pretty art i commissioned inside!

~ 15k words

When you welcomed your daughter into the realm, and finally reached that next long stretch of motherhood, you had prepared yourself for the many changes that accompanied the new addition.

For example, your sleep schedule flipped entirely on its head once you realized that newborn babies slept only a few hours intermittently, which meant a good, long night's rest did not exist anymore.

You found yourself putting your daughter down for a nap at six in the morning, having spent the previous night breastfeeding and soothing her cries. Sometimes, her wailing lasted several hours, and you began to worry if she had a hellish form of colic. You prayed it wasn’t that, because that would mean it would worsen for the next month or so.

The first few weeks were spent holed up in your room, away from the loud noises and constant active state of the rest of the hotel. It was pretty easy, seeing as it was basically a studio apartment, save for the kitchen, which was an exhausting walk down the hall, even more so than when you were pregnant.

“Ya look terrible, mama,” Angel Dust had grimaced with a laugh when you appeared like a ghost late one night inside the much posher lobby, your complexion sunken and drained as your feet dragged across the red carpet.

He had just arrived home from a long day at the studio, his expression equally as drained but his demeanor much livelier than your zombie appearance.

You probably did look terrible, in your oversized pajamas that no doubt had stains of baby spit-up and breast milk. You looked unsightly, a mess, that pregnancy glow extinguished like a flame as you tiredly frog blinked in Angel’s direction.

“Need… to clean the milk bottles… before she wakes up,” you mumbled, lifting three small, dirty baby bottles to view.

“Ya need any help?”

“No, thanks. M’fine,” you waved him off with a yawn, slowly crossing the room towards the kitchen doors.

There was no reason to bother him with such a task, it was your baby, and he already had enough to deal with at the studio.

“Well, have a good time then. I'm jus’ gonna call it an early night an’ head ta bed,” Angel replied, bidding farewell as he turned and left the lobby.

Your head twisted to catch a glimpse of his figure turning the corner, surprise crossing your features at his sudden departure. Usually, Angel Dust had a couple of drinks after work or went out to party until the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, the only thing on the spider demon’s mind was to curl up with Fat Nuggets and sleep those troubling emotions away.

He had been drinking far less lately, or, at least, had been keeping his habits away from the hotel ever since the new hotel was built and your daughter was born. No more did the pornstar burst in after a night at the studio, eyes red and speech slurred as he spoke gibberish and laughed at nothing in particular.

Even though it was Hell, you were determined to keep the gateways into a chaotic life away from your daughter. She was going to have the best quality of life possible in such a place, and you were vocal about your disapproval of those habits, especially in a place that’s supposed to be free of such sin.

When Cherri began staying longer and longer at the hotel, you were apprehensive at first with how much deeper she seemed to be in ‘the life’. Would she sink further into the depths after Sir. Pentious’ death? It wasn’t easy for someone to deal with both grief and guilt at the same time.

Fortunately, she had the support of the residents inside the hotel, and she was finding healthier outlets than a thin line of white powder to quell her pain.

You were grieving too, even if you hadn’t known Sir. Pentious that long in comparison to the others, the little time you spent with him was all but enough.

Sir. Pentious was kind, and courteous, and made the best cookies you’d ever tasted. You had a connection with the snake demon with your shared enjoyment in cooking, and you welcomed the assistance of his Egg Boiz taste-testing your delicacies.

Now, he was gone, and the emptiness of his departure was palpable inside the hotel. His loyal egg companions now dwindled to just one singular yolk, the rest having sacrificed their shells along with their selfless general.

Frank, who had survived solely because he had guarded you at the hospital, returned home to an empty nest and no boss.

You weren’t sure whether the little guy could understand how double death worked, but the way he stared longingly at Sir. Pentious’ portrait in the lobby that he knew his old family was gone for good.

Charlie had done her best to integrate him into the staff, him a room service attendant. He stayed your faithful helper in that way, summoned to your door by the newly installed service button whenever you needed.

“Sorry for bothering you, Frank,” you had smiled down at him, poking your head out from the inside of your room, your daughter latched onto your nipple, “But I’m out of toilet paper and I'm kind of busy right now. Could you go grab me some, please?”

“Sure thing!” He replied chipperly, lifting his hat courteously from the top of his shell before he scampered down the hall and out of view.

He’d return with your items of request, as he did for all the rest of the residents. It kept him busy, allowing his one-track mind to stay away from thinking hard thoughts about what was lost for too long.

Those hard thoughts plagued you as well, as you dealt with the grief of losing a friend and the mood swings that began to take over you. The hormonal changes that came post-birth was also something you prepared for, the ‘baby blues’ as most would call it.

It had started as mood swings, the typical sudden bursts of emotions that accompanied your pregnancy, and the ones that liked to show their face around your period. Suddenly, you’d find yourself shooting a glare at a particularly noisy conversation outside of your door, or find your eyes welling up with tears at the slightest inconvenience.

A mix of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones was not a good one, and you were determined to keep this weakness away from your friends.

What if they thought you weren’t doing a good job as a mother? All that time, energy, and resources that were used to help you and your baby. They’d think it was all a waste, caring so much only for you to end up a disappointment.

Was that… how your ex had felt when he chose a whore over his lover and child?

Those thoughts began to plague you, and your anxiety heightened with every passing day. The idea that their judgments on your parenting would be harsh had you withdrawing for longer periods inside your room, and farther away from your friends.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to keep your feelings completely hidden from them, and you realized quickly how erratic your emotions actually were.

One day, Vaggie had swung by to inform you that they had ordered some pizza, and you were welcome to have some too. You were busy breastfeeding your baby at the time, and had to wait until she was sound asleep to sneak out of your room and into the kitchen.

When you finally arrived, your stomach growled with giddy anticipation as you passed by the others who had mostly finished their plates, your lateness obvious. The lobby was filled with chatter, all the residents gathered for a nice meal and to catch up on anything new that had transpired during the week.

When you reached the partially open pizza box inside the empty kitchen, that delicious scent wafted to your nose and you licked your lips hungrily. Gripping the lid, you lifted it quickly, your mind already picturing whatever goodness lay inside.

Was it the classic pepperoni that couldn’t go wrong? Maybe it was from that new pizzeria down the block with their best-selling macaroni and cheese…

Your train of thought derailed, your gaze narrowing at the contents inside the box.

A singular slice of pizza was all that remained inside, your most hated topping sprinkled atop the now-cooled cheese.

Your lip curled at the sight, irritation flickering across your face at the lonely slice. You heard laughter from the conversation behind you, and that only had your eye twitching.

You had lived with these guys during the most intense months of your cravings, and they were aware of what kind of pizza you devoured in an instant and which ones had you gagging. And, only one slice? Had they forgotten about you, even though you had told Vaggie you’d come down after feeding the baby?

You were itching to commit some sort of violence, which had you steeling your arms from lifting the box and chucking it against the wall.

Those intrusive thoughts had you rubbing your temple with a frustrated sigh, before lifting a hand to begin plucking the disgusting toppings from the slice.

As you placed the last of it onto the cardboard, you grabbed the pizza and threw it into the microwave nearby. Your foot tapped impatiently against the marble tile as the slice spun slowly inside the appliance, your thoughts spinning along with it.

By the time you had made it out of the kitchen with steaming food, your tolerance for social interaction was drained, and it seemed a better idea to just eat in your room.

Passing by a few familiar faces, you only greeted them with a tight smile, walking fast enough so that they’d assume you were busy and it would be less likely for them to invite you to chat.

Right as you were about to turn the corner into the hall, plate in hand, a figure rounded the corner and smacked into you head-on. Your chests collided, and you felt the plate slip from your grip, you snapped your head up to see the familiar apple-cheeked woman meet your gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Charlie gasped, right as the pizza slid off your plate and began to free-fall down to the carpet.

Your eyes widened, and Charlie tensed as the pizza splat face-down, the tomato sauce beginning to ooze from the sides like a bloody scene and your hand began to tremble.

At first, those intrusive thoughts were prodding you to snap at her, but you held your tongue. That anger quickly morphed into gloom, and your eyes cast down longingly to the overturned slice.

Your lip quivered, and your chest heaved as you took a shaky breath to keep those tears from falling. Charlie’s brows furrowed and she slowly matched your expression as guilt squeezed her stomach. The banter around you quieted, but your gaze was firmly on the woman in front of you.

Fuck, that was the one thing you were looking forward to today. You couldn’t lose your composure in front of the princess, however, that would heighten her concern, and she already had enough on her plate with the new clients.

“Here, let me get Niffty to clean this up and I can get you some more piz—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” You interrupted her, a quiet growl laced in your wavering words as you chuckled humorously, “There isn’t anything left, this was all you guys cared enough to save for me.”

Charlie’s eyes widened at your tone, before she opened her mouth to speak again just as Niffty walked forward to clean the mess. Looking down, you took notice of the large glob of sauce that had landed on your top, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

“If you excuse me, I have to get changed now,” you huffed, spinning on your heels to face the hallway, not giving the princess any time to press further as you briskly walked away.

That hot, salty liquid began to spill down your cheeks right as you entered into the long corridor, and you desperately tried to wipe them away. Your face was rubbed dry in a desperate bid to silence the tears.

What was wrong with you? It was one slice of pizza, yet your heart ached like your lottery ticket was one number away from winning. Charlie’s expression had proved your mask was beginning to crack, with the mix of concern and surprise toward your change in demeanor.

Motherhood isn't easy, that had been clear since day one, but you had hoped your emotions would have stabilized by now. It seems that sleep exhaustion and maternal hormones just don’t mix very well, huh?

That incident had been so embarrassing, that you kept to yourself the rest of the week, only venturing out when necessary, which had you spending most of your time with your daughter.

Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite a while, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her.

The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. Peaches was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.

You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.

You squished your daughter's cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”

“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”

“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”

“What are you doing?” An amused, honeyed voice came from across your room.

You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the baby's lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.

There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.

He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter.

Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world.

Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.

“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to a stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it.

“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.

“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.

You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.

“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke.

Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat.

Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again.

“How is everything going?”

“Good,” you lied.

“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you.

Lucifer’s cane twisted between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.

You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him.

Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.

You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet.

His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, and that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.

He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.

Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure.

You just needed to prove him wrong.

“Come on,” you finally nudged him with a laugh, setting the apple on a table nearby, before beckoning him to follow you towards the bed.

It seemed as if Lucifer had been waiting for your approval, as his demeanor lightened at your words and he slowly followed you. His steps were light and quiet as you neared the side of the bed, stopping just as he settled beside you.

“Peaches! You’re looking quite radiant this evening,” Lucifer greeted with a flourish, as he leaned over the side of your bed, and your daughter’s eyes widened at the familiar face.

Your eyes flicked up to the fallen angel at his words. Peaches, the nickname he had come up with. Shockingly, a name that didn’t derive from apples, ducks, or the circus.

“Well, aren't you just a peach, so quiet and easy for your mama!'' Lucifer had cooed to the little one her first days in Hell, she lay in your arms as he softly brushed a thumb across her chin, “So adwowable wit those chubby wittle cheeks.”

Your baby had only frowned at the strange man’s touch with a half-lidded gaze, but soon she’d learn to get used to Lucifer’s presence, as he never disappeared for too long without visiting his three favorite girls.

You had a real name for your daughter that was chosen after her birth, but that could be reserved for when you’d have to pull out the full name card during arguments in her teenage years. Peaches had been a simple phrase that seemed to stick, and even if you weren’t fond of the cute addressal, you wouldn’t dare ruin his first attachment to your daughter.

Peaches had only stared up at the porcelain figure invading her space with a curious gaze, no doubt wondering who this silly was, and why he always left her gifts to fawn over.

Like the first day you came home from the hospital, he presented you with a beautiful red, silken bassinet, with intricate gold lines woven into the detailed design, enhancing the elegance of the crib. Its plushness looked very comfortable for your daughter, and you adored that Lucifer got you something in the first place.

Another time, he brought you a golden mobile that depicted ducks flying rhythmically in circles, ones that threw vibrant, warm lights across the walls late at night, soothing the girl’s late wakings before they woke you at times.

That seemed to be Lucifer’s love language towards your daughter, always presenting her with toys and other little gizmos he cooked up inside of his workshop. Finally, the fallen angel had found purpose for the dusty space, instead of constantly tweaking the same old, yellow rubber ducky day after day.

“For you, a fan-favorite from the vault,” Lucifer hummed as he snapped his fingers, and a stuffed goat with devilish horns and bat wings materialized in his hands.

Right as he pulled the plush from behind his back, Peaches became enamored with it, kicking her legs in excitement as the stuffed animal was held high for her to get a full view. Her motor control was still poor, and she couldn’t grasp the amusing creature, but its colorful fur and dragon-like features were something to gawk at in the little one’s eyes.

“Look, she’s smiling!” You beamed beside the fallen angel, heart melting as you watched the little girl’s mouth open with a squeal at the offering, “I think that’s her biggest one yet!”

“It seems I’m just a natural at this kind of thing, huh?” Lucifer winked playfully your way, before he levitated the toy just above your daughter’s head, whose attention was solely on the little goat plush, “I think she’s even starting to like me, too.”

‘You’re such a good daddy, please let me make you one again.’

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you replied instead with a simple nod, before turning on your heels to hide your goofy smile and retrieve the caramel apple once more.

You plucked the apple from the table, before biting another large chunk from its side. The flavors swirled in your mouth, and that fog in your mind lessened a little more with each bite.

You watched from a short distance, as Lucifer’s index finger pointed towards the air above your daughter’s head. With a flick of his wrist, a trail of golden sparks shot from his fingertip and upward above their heads, before exploding into a flurry of sparkles that sent golden shadows across the room.

Peaches was digging the light show, her eyes fixated on the floating spectacle before they flickered out of existence.

“Anything else going on?” The king finally spoke, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of you.

“Not really, just taking it one day at a time,” you responded absentmindedly, lifting the coated apple to your lips to take another bite.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He blurted, smile cracking wider as straightened himself against his cane.

You froze, brain short-circuiting as those words processed in your head. You, free? As in, available to partake in some sort of activity with Lucifer?

“Yes, technically…” you trailed off, gaze flicking to your daughter, giddy on her bed as she watched the stuffed goat, “But I can’t just leave the baby alone all evening, she needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you, she’s fine with someone else for a few hours,” he waved off your excuse, before throwing another trail of sparklings into the air, and they exploded in a flurry of golden glimmers above the baby’s head, “I’m sure Charlie would love to spoil the kid for a few hours anyway, don’t you trust her?”

“Yes…”

“I was thinking,” Lucifer continued, beginning to take a few slow, deliberate steps towards you, “Nothing too crazy, just a nice, quiet evening with good food. Maybe throw some of my good wine into the mix, what do you say?”

He sent you a sultry, half-lidded gaze as he sidled closer to you, the caramel apple in your grip lowering from your lips as Lucifer enraptured your full attention, heat blooming across your cheeks at his expression.

“If that is what His Majesty wishes, then I cannot refuse such an offer,” you struggled to keep your voice from wavering, the heat in your cheeks creeping farther down your body.

“But do you want it?” He pressed, only a foot away from you now, his lips upturned in a smirk at your flustered expression.

Apparently, those horny hormones had also stuck around after your pregnancy. Having such a gorgeous, ethereal figure so close to you made your heart skip a beat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

“I… think that is a very lovely offer, and I would enjoy being able to spend time in just your company,” you finally replied carefully, a smile blooming across your lips.

“Perfect!” Lucifer clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with glee as he took a step away from you, back toward the bed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” The king cooed softly to your daughter, as he plucked the stuffed goat from the air, “Take good care of this little guy, he’s a special one.”

Lowering the plush, Lucifer placed it gently against your baby’s chest, and her chubby little hands came up to wrap firmly around the toy. Ungracefully, the goat was lifted to Peaches’ lips before she opened her mouth to begin suckling on its ear.

“I bet that tastes delicious,” Lucifer laughed, and you smiled fondly at the duo with a tilt of your head.

The fallen angel took a step back from the bed after a moment, before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That familiar white, brim hat materialized from thin air into his grasp, and he turned to you with a smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm a very busy man and have other matters to attend to,” Lucifer sighed dramatically, brushing past you towards the doorway.

“I have no doubt,” you shook your head with a laugh, following him towards the end of your room.

Lucifer reached the open doorway, before turning to face you again. He met your gaze for a few moments, before he leaned forward in a bow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, m’lady,” he hummed with delight, adjusting his hat against those beautiful golden curls as you smiled warmly.

“Is there a dress code for our little outing?” you responded with a mischievous grin.

The king only sent you a playful wink, before he stepped out of view and the soft thuds of heeled boots against carpet faded as he disappeared down the hall.

That interaction with Lucifer stewed in your mind for the entire night, as well as into the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to the previous conversation as you snuck down the hall and into the lobby to grab breakfast from the kitchen.

The others were fairly busy, so you were easily able to travel unseen. Angel Dust was working overtime at the studio for a new porn flick, and Charlie was using the extermination to push her hotel further into the spotlight and attract new clients. Vaggie always went along with her, and Alastor was probably up in his fancy new radio tower, doing whatever it was he did up there.

It was only Husk who remained, always behind the bar, shining the bottles and whistling a strange blues tune. He had begun to rope in his drinking as well, choosing to pick up a bottle much later in the day than usual. It was the early morning hour, when you passed by the bar with breakfast in your hands, and the sober bartender turned to you.

“How’s the kid doing?”

“She’s fine, growing very fast too, gaining more control over her movement every day.”

“That's nice,” Husk’s lips curved a smidge, as he placed the glassware neatly underneath the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while, glad to know ya ain’t dead or nothin’.”

“Yes…” You said slowly, mind racing for a good excuse, “She has just been fussy lately, so I’ve been tending to her.”

“You should bring her out one of these days,” He lifted his eyes from the glass in his paws, meeting yours with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the others would be happy to see her.”

You couldn’t tell whether Husk was using the term ‘others’ as an inclusion of him as well, you knew the furry demon had a heart somewhere beneath those layers of fur and grumpiness.

You nodded your head at his words, taking a bite of your breakfast, thoughts drifting as you chewed. You’d have to ask Charlie about babysitting anyway, and you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Maybe, knowing that you were going out with her dad, she’d be thrilled to shoulder the responsibilities of a newborn for a single night, or, she could hate it… which was something you desperately tried not to think too hard about, for your sanity.

Needless to say, Husk was right, your daughter really brought the best out of your friends, as they melted in her vicinity. None of the residents at the hotel had any problem looking after the adorable little demon.

Charlie had stood quietly in the lobby, humming a tune as she rocked the baby softly in her arms. Vaggie stood beside her, tilting her head as Peaches’ eyelids began to droop at the gentle motions.

“They’re as cute as the ones in Heaven, maybe cuter,” The fallen angel spoke with a smile, her hand lifting towards the little girl’s head, before tiny fingers wrapped around a single digit and clamped tight.

“And strong too, wow,” She laughed, trying to gently dislodge her finger from the steel grip.

In the hallway behind them, you turned the corner into the lobby, anxiously fiddling with your appearance as you neared the trio. Dressed in a wine-red outfit, you stumbled slightly in your heels as you navigated over the plush carpet.

Finally, you were actually able to fit into fashionable attire. Your stomach was no longer inflated with an eight-pound baby, and the aching of your once swollen feet no longer bothered you to continue venturing the world in socks and flip-flops.

“You look really nice in that outfit!” Charlie beamed as she turned at the sounds of footsteps, and Vaggie nodded beside her. Your daughter’s eyes widened at the exclamation, before moving to your figure, tracking your figure as you joined them near the bar.

Angel Dust was lounging on a bar stool, swishing alcohol absentmindedly inside a martini glass as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, before catching a glimpse of your outfit with a knowing smirk.

“Someone is dressin’ to impress,” he playfully nudged Husk’s shoulder over the bar counter, who turned his head from the bottles he was organizing to sneak a peek.

Everyone knew who you were trying to impress, and when you came back, they would no doubt prod you for any juicy details.

You stopped in front of Charlie, smiling as you adjusted your outfit again. You had spent the past few hours getting ready, which also included multiple outfit changes because you were never satisfied with your appearance. You needed to look good, really good if you were going on a date with the king.

Why would Lucifer want anything to do with you? You had nothing to offer, just tired eyes and a baby on your hip. There had to be better options, surely. Just because the man never went anywhere other than his manor and the hotel, didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of demons wanting to fill the place of Charlie’s mother.

Lilith. You tried desperately not to think of her, for your own self-esteem. You had seen pictures of her, in old magazines and glimpses of family portraits in Charlie’s room. Lucifer spoke of her when talking about his daughter’s childhood or humorous memories, but he seemed to keep the reminiscing of her specifically curt around you.

You struggled to understand why, did he think you’d react poorly to the mention of his ex-wife? Except, It wasn’t your place to act that way, though. She had been married to the king for thousands of years and was the mother of his child. She was the Queen of Hell for crying out loud! Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous, had a fantastic voice, and cared deeply for her people’s wellbeing.

In comparison, you were a sad sack of potatoes. At least, in your opinion.

Self-conscious thoughts like these had slowly begun to fester during your early pregnancy, and peaked when your stomach resembled a watermelon, and, for some reason, it had decided to make a nest in your brain postpartum. Laying more seeds of anxiety and dejection deeper within your mind.

But, when Lucifer was around, it was like you could finally breathe again. His energy was warm and inviting, like taking a sip of the finest liquor and that buzz in your brain thirsting for more. It felt like snuggling your face into soft sheep's wool, nothing but comfort and relief from the harshness of the realm.

Even if the fallen angel was no longer welcomed inside Heaven’s gates, he still retained that ethereal grace that made you feel like you were committing the largest sin just by staring too hard at those soft lips of his.

The king cared about you, in a way nobody did. He was the only demon in your group who had any experience with raising a child, and he was your support when it came to understanding the same stages of parenthood you were currently going through. In a much lesser light, of course, he had never actually birthed a child and suffered the effects of such a–literal–mind altering experience.

Tonight, you’d be able to have Lucifer all to yourself, and you were determined to make the most of it.

You had held back from making any advances towards him for so long due to that golden band on his finger that glinted painfully in your eyes. A reminder of his attachment to his ex-wife, and the fragility of your close bond.

What if Lilith were to come back? Would he choose her, and distance himself from you? What of you then, being dragged by the heartstrings for so long just to have them snapped in your face at his rejection?

That thought had terrified you, so you kept your feelings hidden, and let Lucifer set the pace on how far things would go. You were determined to start changing that, starting tonight.

As you came to a halt in front of Charlie and Vaggie, your daughter cooed softly, and you reached out a hand to run gentle fingers across her cheek lovingly.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Bottles in the fridge you just need to warm up, first aid kit in my room, and I’ll have my phone on ring in case there’s an emergency,” you nervously triple-recounted everything in your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Charlie sent you a confident nod of her head, her fingers tightening around your baby as her smile grew.

It is then you come to realize how good of a big sister the princess could make if she were to have a younger sibling. Your heart swelled at that, as you imagined your daughter at least finding companionship in the young woman. Charlie looked like she could really pull off a stellar children’s tea party.

“I know you do, you’re always so responsible,” you replied warmly, and the princess's eyes widened for a moment, before her lips upturned into a grateful smile as you lowered your hand from your daughter’s face.

“So, where are you going?” Vaggie inquired.

“I don’t know, he just told me to wait outside my balcony door. Which means I should probably head there now, if everything is fine out here.”

“We’re good, toots!” Angel Dust called from behind Charlie, throwing his head back before downing the rest of the liquor in his glass, “Go have some fun!”

You nodded, before wishing farewell to your daughter and the rest of the demons in the lobby before turning on your heel and heading back towards your room.

“I hope those two have fun,” Vaggie said as you disappeared around the corner.

“I have to use the bathroom, will you take Peaches for me?” Charlie turned towards her girlfriend, only for Angel Dust to shoot up from his seat with a large grin.

“I would like to hold the baby!” He strolled up to the duo, and Charlie glanced over to Vaggie, before shrugging and carefully holding the little girl towards the demon.

“C’mere, cutie!” Angel Dust beamed, arms outstretched to take the child as she kicked her feet in little baby glee.

“You love your uncle, Angel, dontcha’?” He cooed, lifting the baby with secure hands underneath her armpits, before he leaned in and rubbed noses.

Peaches sneezed, and Angel Dust positioned her to sit in his lap at the bar counter. Husk leaned across to get a better look, before taking a claw and reaching it towards the baby.

Gently, he squished her chubby arm, trailing down towards her hand. Husk didn’t have time to retract his claw, before a tiny hand wrapped around the cat’s finger and refused to let go.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” He grumbled as he allowed your daughter to stay latched onto his digit.

You had just made it inside your room, adjusting your appearance one final time as you reached the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, you pull it open to slip outside, the lights from the city illuminating the balcony’s white tiled floor.

You turned your head to search for the fallen angel, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were left to twiddle your thumbs, eyes casting towards the demons strolling the streets down the hill in the neighborhood below.

Lucifer didn’t forget about the date… did he? He was getting much better at being on time, but you still could not help to worry.

“Hey.”

You jumped with a gasp, spinning to face the familiar voice. You had to grip the chair beside you to keep from stumbling in heels, your gaze lifting to meet those familiar, yellow eyes.

Lucifer was perched across from you on the balcony’s thin railing, one pair of his large wings stretched wide, throwing shadows across the tiles beneath your feet. The other two he kept folded at his sides, white against the crimson underbelly of his open wings.

They practically shimmered in the waning light, their shape and color unique to only one kind of being, an angel. Husk’s wings could not compare to the exotic beauty before you, and you struggled to keep eye contact with its owner as you examined the rare sight.

“Lucifer!” You scolded playfully, your eyes tracing across every feather that rustled slightly against the gentle breeze, “You scared me! What are you doing up there?”

“I apologize for the fright,” Lucifer chuckled, rising to his full height as he balanced across like a tightrope, closing the distance between the two of you, “I just thought I’d give you a peek of what tonight has to offer.”

His wings beat softly for balance, before they folded in slightly and the fallen angel lowered himself back to sit on his feet, smiling mischievously as he lowered a hand in a gesture for you to take.

“First, you should take off those heels. They look really nice, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to climb up here with them on.”

You furrowed your brows, suspicion in your gaze as he extended a hand for you to take. What was your darling king planning?

“Why exactly am I climbing onto the railing?” You kicked off your heels, and you shivered at the cold flooring against your skin.

Your bare feet planted on the cool tiles for a few moments, before your fingers laced with Lucifer’s, and he effortlessly lifted you to stand beside him.

“Well,” He started, his fingers brushing up your wrist to grip your forearm, before steadying you with a flap of his wings, “I just thought you wanted a better mode of transportation to our little dinner than walking in those stilettos.”

“And what ‘mode’ are we talking about here?” You turned to him with widening eyes, realization slowly dawning on you.

Lucifer’s grin only widened, and you gulped. He really was serious about taking an evening flight, and you mentally prepared yourself as your gaze lowered to the long drop beneath you. You steeled your gaze towards the fallen angel, who scooted even closer.

“Are you ready?” His honeyed voice whispered in your ear, and you felt like exploding at the feeling of his touch across your waist.

Were you? Never did you guess this was what he had planned, and never did you imagine finding yourself being able to travel with your feet off the ground. Adrenaline began to pump through your veins the longer you stood there in thought.

With one final deep breath, you moved your hands to grip tightly against Lucifer’s dress shirt, and nodded your approval. Lucifer’s hold on your waist tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut just as you felt him pull you forward and off the side of the railing.

The wind whipped past your ears, your eyelids still locked shut as you clamped your mouth shut to keep from screaming. The two of you were falling fast, and for a moment you imagined Lucifer unable to lift in time, and you’d become a splatter against the grass.

Instead, you heard his other two pairs of wings unfurl and spread above you, the thrumming of heavy flaps and the feeling of being lifted once more had you cracking an eye open. The wind whistled its natural tune, and your eyelids fluttered open to see your legs dangling beneath you.

You were very high up, as Lucifer glided across the outskirts of the city, those vibrant, flashing strobe lights that lit up the sky above V Tower passed in a multicolored blur.

You were flying! Free and uncaged from the stress back on the ground, that weightless feeling was something you’ve never experienced all your years in Hell. The adrenaline rush that hit your body had you laughing in the thrill as the fallen angel dipped and rolled. Cars passed below you, and you waved to the pedestrians walking on the streets underneath your feet, if they even noticed your presence.

“Having fun?” Lucifer called from above, and you cocked your head up to meet his playful gaze.

“More than I ever imagined!” You replied, the wind carrying your voice to the king’s ears.

“Good, now hang on!” He laughed, and his wings tightened against his body, causing the two of you to dive with greater speed towards the buildings below.

Your grip on Lucifer’s shirt tightened and he pulled you closer as he sped towards an illuminated rooftop below.

Rather carefully, your feet hit the cold bricks beneath, and Lucifer released his hold around your waist to land beside you. His wings folded against his back, and with a split-second flash of golden light, they completely vanished from his frame.

Lucifer began to walk toward the center of the rooftop, beckoning for you to join. Taking a few steps forward, your eyes follow his path, before widening at the scene.

Powerful magic had transformed the space into a romantic, candle-lit dinner right out of the movies. The string of bulbs that cast warm light across the small, cute table before you held an intimate glow, paired with the soft, classical tune that filled the air.

A single, elegantly shaped candle stands at the center, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across your face. The table was adorned with a lace-trimmed cloth fluttering gently in the breeze. On top, there's an assortment of delectable treats—cheeses, fruits, and a selection of fine chocolates.

The backdrop is breathtaking, with the city spread out below, its lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The distant hum of traffic and city life is a soothing contrast to the quiet rooftop ambiance.

Lucifer only smiles at you, before he pulls a chair slightly from the table and gestures for you to sit. You oblige, settling into the comfortable padded seat as he pushes the chair back in place.

He settled into the seat across from you, and you leaned over the table slightly to take a look at the charcuterie board lined with various cheese, meats, and chips. Your stomach growled, and you plucked a few items from the board and placed them on the white plate sitting before you.

“Is everything to your liking?” Lucifer hummed, as he popped a slice of prosciutto into his mouth, before meeting your gaze.

“This is really nice,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to trace the string of lights that zig-zagged across your head, “I had expected you to just take me to a fancy restaurant, not something like this.”

“I like the atmosphere of places like these much better. Less noisy and more.. personal,” he replied, lifting another meat slice to his lips “I just thought you needed time away from that suffocating little room, the both of us, really.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this was very kind of you.”

Lucifer smiled softly, and heat spread across your face at his staring. You took another bite of cheese, and the king’s eyes flicked across the table and his brows furrowed.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” he started, rubbing his chin deep in thought, before his eyes widened as he perked, “That’s right, the wine! Waiter!”

The king snapped his fingers, and you turned your head in confusion. The rooftop was empty, save for the two of you, who could possibl–

Your thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed across the gravel, and a figure dressed in a black and white tuxedo strolled forward toward you. It was… another Lucifer, and your mouth dropped slightly at the familiar face, whose curly mustache bounced as he grinned.

A red bottle of wine materialized in the double’s hands, and with a loud pop the cork lid flew across the rooftop. Fizz spilled from the bottle for a few moments as the waiter stopped beside you. Lowering the bottom, he poured the empty glass in front of you to the brim, before standing straight once more.

“For you, ma chérie,” Lucifer #2 spoke with a perfect French accent, before bowing respectfully to you.

He sent you a playful wink as he slid over to your Lucifer’s side, and lowered the wine bottle. Lucifer watched his glass fill, before shooing away his double, who backed away from the table and vanished into the shadows.

You lift the wine glass to your lips, taking a long sip of the dark red liquor. Its rich, apple flavor danced on your tongue as warmth bloomed from your stomach.

“This is amazing! When you were talking about good wine, I didn’t think you meant this good,” you beamed, that buzz already tingling in your brain as you took another sip.

“An old recipe that’s been sitting in my cellar for, well… a few thousand years by now,” Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, before lifting it to his lips.

As you nibble on the delicate offerings, conversation flows effortlessly between you both. The topics range from silly memories and active interests, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. Lucifer's eyes hold a warmth and depth that matches the glow of the candle, his demeanor a mix of confidence and vulnerability, as he shares with you details of his past.

Time seems to stand still as you savor each other's company, the burdens upon your shoulders vanishing for the moment, as you keep your gaze fixed on the gorgeous face across from you. The night feels infinite, filled with promise and the simple joy of being together.

Unfortunately, time passed much quicker than you hoped, as the sky above was blanketed in darkness at the late hour. Even with the giddy buzz from the wine, exhaustion was still creeping up your spine, and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Lucifer and you both stood at the same time, and when the king joined you at one end of the table, he lifted a hand toward you. It was a gesture for you to take, and when your eyes lowered, you found that the golden band usually around his finger was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes widened, and something stirred inside you. You didn’t waste any time in reaching forward and lacing your fingers with his, his touch soft and warmth bloomed from his fingertips.

What now? Should you just lean over and kiss him? No, not on the first date, that’s silly! It must have been the buzz of the wine making all those intrusive thoughts seem very logical as you locked eyes with the king for a few moments.

But… was it really the first date? Sure, you had never spent time together so.. intimately before, but he was there for you a lot during your pregnancy. Helped you cook, filled your day with entertainment, and cared for your health, all he did by choice.

Which is why you felt so weird asking for his help now, he had already done so much, any more and you’d feel utterly… useless.

It seemed like Lucifer wanted to say something, his brows furrowed slightly, lips moving as if he was just moments from speaking. He held his tongue though, sighing softly in the breeze as he turned his head towards the vibrant cityscape.

You followed his gaze, glimpsing the large, digital billboards a few streets away depicting lude models and VoxTek advertisements.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, with the baby and everything? You know you can always ask me for help, right?” Lucifer's words caught you off guard, and your head turned to meet his gaze.

Was he catching onto how much you were really struggling? You bit your lip, mind racing. You had tried so hard to seem normal, but the truth was, you felt like a different person after your baby. These emotions that refuse to leave you in peace were only creating a deeper divide between you and everyone else.

Your daughter was beautiful, and you loved her so much. But, she was still a mentally draining, constantly hungry being that begged for your attention 24/7 in the form of harsh, deafening wails. It seemed to be improving, hopefully.

“I think so,” you answered honestly, using your free hand to rub your shoulder soothingly, “It was tough for a while, but I think whatever has been bothering her is going away. Everything should be much smoother from here on out.”

Lucifer looked at you for another moment, as if he was finding it hard to believe you. He didn’t press further, instead giving your hand a supportive squeeze before tugging

“Ready for round two?” He smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back as stepped onto the edge of the roof beside him.

You only laughed as he pulled you close to him and the two of you fell off the side of the building. Lucifer’s wings stretched wide as they lifted the two of you towards the sky, your worries in the wind once more.

You should have knocked on wood when you told Lucifer your daughter’s crying fits were improving, because only a few days later, it was quite the opposite. Peaches has been overcome with another intense round of colic, and her screams bounced across the bedroom as you rocked her gently in your arms.

You had spent the past hour trying to soothe her cries, to no avail. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted a binkie towards her mouth, it took a few moments for the little girl to even notice her outburst, before she clamped her mouth around it and began to suckle.

Her crying turned to whimpers, which soon faded into sniffles as she suckled on the pacifier. You exhaled a sigh of relief, as you slowly lowered her into the red bassinet beside you. Carefully, you positioned her comfortably on the plush bedding, placing a small blanket snugly around her toes to keep her from waking from the cold, before you straightened again.

What could she possibly be feeling that you were unable to help her through? You weren’t telepathic, and the mystery was only driving you mad.

You needed fresh air, and your daughter’s wails were finally silenced long enough to be able to disappear for a few minutes and recollect yourself. With caution, you took quiet steps across the room towards the balcony doorways that were concealed behind dark red curtains. Slowly, you reached through the thick fabric to grasp at the handle, before pulling it open just a crack to slip through.

The door closed softly behind you with a barely audible click, and that large breath held in your lungs finally expelled with a heavy sigh, heavy with emotions you so desperately wanted to release from your mind in any way possible. If it meant collapsing to the ground and flooding the balcony with the outpour of unsung frustrations.

You felt so useless. Your daughter was in some kind of misery, and the effects of the constant jump to tears were starting to take a noticeable effect on the infant. She just seemed so tired, practically pleading for you to end whatever misery she could possibly be facing.

You were at your wit's end, and you stared out into the distance, your breath quickening as tears threatened to fall. You just needed some time alone, time to think, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to ask for hel–

“Boo!” A sudden voice near your ear pulled you back into reality, and your heart slammed into your chest.

This time you screamed, your back hitting the railing as you quickly pivoted to find Lucifer, perched atop the railing once more. His wings were gone now, and his smile was wide as he landed on the tile next to you.

“Ha! I got you good, didn’t I?” Lucifer laughed, and you tensed at the volume.

“Shhh!” You hissed, placing a finger to your lips and Lucifer froze.

“Sorry…” He grimaced, glancing at the glass doorway before taking a step closer toward you, "is she asleep?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to settle down all day… she’s been really fussy and it’s been hard,” you sighed, turning your head slightly to hide the emotion building on your face.

“Oh, I had no idea. I just swung by to ask you something, but I see you're a little preoccupied at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled nervously, concern written across his features at your glistening eyes and quivering frown.

You were having trouble containing all the horrible things you were feeling, and your body began to react to the pressure that was threatening to burst inside of you. Inhaling a shaking breath, you crossed your arms and held them close to your chest, your heart beating rapidly.

“Hey... are you okay?” You felt a hand softly grasp your forearm, and that warm touch was what had you coming undone before the king.

Tears poured down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs as you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back the anguished, raw sounds that were begging to be set free.

You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a really long time. The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its depth.

You felt a hand soothingly rub circles into your back, another one on your forearm as the king tried his best to show his support through silent gestures. You choked back another sob, straightening in embarrassment and you regained control of your composure.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, face twisting as you tried to compose yourself, “I’m trying to be a good mother, but it must be obvious how terrible of one I am.”

“What? Don’t say that!” Lucifer shook his head quickly, lips curving into a nervous smile as he spoke, “You’re doing a great job, nobody thinks otherwise.”

“I’m sure,” you replied bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Times like these can be really hard, I understand how you fee–”

“You don’t, though!” You snapped, lifting a hand to harshly rub your face free of the river running down your cheeks.

“Okay, maybe that's true, but I'm just worried about you, you’ve been—!”

Crying erupted from behind the door, and Lucifer’s mouth clamped shut at the sudden interruption. You jumped at the noise, one hand quickly reaching backward to grasp at the doorknob.

“I’m sorry, she’s crying again and I need to go. If you want to help so badly, come back another time!” the words spilled from your lips in a single breath, and your body moved past the threshold of the doorway as you turned away from the fallen angel.

“Wait! Please let me-!”

The door locked into place, ceasing the desperate words from the other side. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer, embarrassed by your childish outburst of emotions.

Resting your forehead against the wooden surface, you squeezed your eyes shut, collecting yourself. Your daughter screamed for you across the room, only intensifying the ringing in your ears and pushing the tears to spill faster down your cheeks.

You saw Lucifer’s shadow behind the curtains for a few moments longer, before his silhouette backed away and disappeared over the railing. You rubbed a hand across your face as your daughter screamed, growling at yourself before you stalked towards the crib.

It had only been a few days later, when you heard your daughter's whimpers begin from across the room in her red bassinet sometime in the very early morning hours. You groaned, so comfortable in your nest of pillows and weighted blankets to heed her noisy demands.

You were exhausted, and for once there had been hope that you’d catch a few more hours before having to awake. Peaches wasn’t crying, though, not like her usual wails. You were still in the clutches of sleep, and your consciousness was drifting in and out, and the sounds around you were dampened by the dreamy state.

Then, something else joined the soft whimpers, a faint voice that had you stirring awake with heavy eyelids and sliding the plush covers from your figure. A rich, melodious tone hit your ears, delicate and soothing in the night.

It sounded… like a violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, a lone siren in the stillness as it lulled your daughter into a deep sleep.

You lifted yourself from the warmth of the sheets, the cold air kissing your bare skin as you slid to the edge of your bed, eyes squinted to see through the darkness towards the corner. In the maroon lighting that escaped through a slit between the curtains of the balcony doors, you could make out some shadowed figure hunched slightly above the crib, your view limited by the small dining table in between you and the stranger.

Quietly, you slid over to the edge of the bed, before planting your feet softly against the plush rug underneath. You took careful steps as you snuck around the table in the center of your room, the music growing louder as you neared the bassinet.

Slowly, you peeked from behind the dining chair, your gaze followed the dappled, red light from the curtains, as they lit the features of a familiar, pearlescent skin with a ruby-like glow.

Lucifer.

His movements were graceful, like a swan, as he slid the bow across the strings, which glowed a subtle golden light as the heavenly melody left the instrument and filled your body with awe. His gaze fixed on the tiny figure nestled inside the crib, his features concentrated as he continued to play.

You only watched, silent as the lullaby began to damper, and the bow’s movements slowed. Soon, the music ceased, and Lucifer lowered the bow to his lap as he took a seat on a sofa behind him wearing a satisfied expression. Your heart swelled with emotion at the realization of the love behind his actions, and you took another step forward.

“Lucifer?”

The king jumped at your voice, his fingers tightening around the instrument in his hold as he slowly turned his head with a large, innocent grin.

“Heyyyyy,” Lucifer replied awkwardly, lowering the violin from his shoulder, and setting it down onto the cushion beside him.

The fallen angel met your gaze once more with an apologetic smile, rubbing his neck uneasily. He was trying to quiet without waking you, which he did the opposite, and it was rather awkward with his intrusion to soothe your daughter. You quietly moved forward, closing the distance between the two of you he chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry for not announcing my presence, you told me to come back another time, then I just heard her crying and–”

Lucifer’s words caught in his throat, pupils dilating as your fingers came up to slowly brush across his chin, before settling to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb softly grazed across those red cheeks of his, and the tension in the fallen angel’s limbs subsided at your caring touch.

You didn’t know what had come upon you, but the craving to be close to this pure-intentioned being, in a literal and figurative sense, outweighed any thoughts of keeping your feelings at bay anymore.

“Why are you so good to me?” You whispered, lips beginning to quiver.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he melted in your palm. Warmth spread across your fingers, easing the ache in your muscles and deep in your bones, as euphoria overcame you.

“Because you’re one of the only good things left in my life,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion, as if he was choking back tears, “You, Charlie, and…”

Lucifer trailed off as his eyes lowered to your sleeping daughter, adoration in his gaze. It was pure love, the kind that lasted for an eternity. Your heart swelled at that, and lifting a hand to his other cheek, you cupped his face and smiled warmly.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me? Well–ha–I don’t find anything wrong with tha–” Lucifer’s stammered reply was cut off once more as you pulled him forward into your embrace.

You pressed your lips to his, they were warm and soft, and you drank in the sweetness of Lucifer’s aroma, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. You felt his hands slide to your waist, before grasping gently and pulling you flush against his chest.

Lucifer leaned backward slowly, his back hitting the support of the sofa and you shifted to fully rest against him, your lips moving to delicately graze across his chin, and you felt his heart quicken at the touch.

Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as your lips traced along his jawline, you lingered for a moment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. His hands, still at your waist, tightened ever so slightly. The softness of his lips beckoned, and you closed the remaining distance, meeting in a tender, lingering kiss.

Your eyelids were heavy, and you slowly broke the kiss and let your head fall into the warmth of the fallen angel's chest, tightening your hold around him and snuggling closer.

“Thank you, for putting her to sleep,” you murmured into Lucifer’s shirt, before feeling claws slide up to your back, caressing the area softly as he hummed a reply.

The two of you embraced silently, lost in the intimacy as you listened to the gentle thrum of his heart, and he continued drawing circles in your back with pleasurable movements. You felt yourself drifting into slumber once more, and your breath slowed as you heeded your body’s exhausted demands.

“You should come stay at my manor,” Lucifer whispered above you, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

Your eyelids fluttered open at that, sleep in the back of your mind at his words as you lifted your head to meet his gaze with a raised, disbelieving brow.

“What?”

Lucifer’s lips tightened, and his eyes bounced across the room as he struggled to formulate a response.

“Well, I–I mean, it would be a lot better than staying here, right? I could hire you as my… private chef! That way, you would make your own money to support yourself. You could even have a whole wing of the manor if you wanted, also a big nursery, a private kitchen, and a master bedroom as big as this entire living space!”

Your mouth opened slightly, head spinning. Live in the same house as Lucifer? The royal manor to call home? Probably the most luxurious and non-hellish place to exist in all the seven rings? He sounded completely serious, and you never expected him to make such a bold offer. You’d also be able to support yourself independently by working as Lucifer’s ‘private chef’, save for the free room and board.

“And, of course, you get to permit who comes and goes in that area, so if you wanted to keep everyone, including me, out…you could do that, too.”

Lucifer’s tone sank slightly as those words left his lips, and your brows furrowed in thought.

“We’ll you give me time to think about it?” You asked slowly.

“Of course!” Lucifer nodded with a satisfied smile, content you were even considering his sudden proposition, “Take all the time you need.”

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence, and stayed locked in an embrace for the rest of the morning, and the crimson light peeking through the curtains began to lighten with the coming dawn. Even as you drifted into sleep, Lucifer’s words lingered in your mind as you slipped from consciousness.

They continued to linger the following evening, as you spilled your heart out to Angel Dust at the bar, your face in your hands as you recalled verbatim. He sipped from his glass of alcohol, lips set in thought as he listened intently.

Out of everyone in the hotel, you didn’t know why you went to Angel for advice, especially in dealing with romance, but you told him everything nonetheless. About going to live with Lucifer, all the help he’s been to you thus far, and the encounter with him earlier. You even gave him a brief glimpse into the… physical intimacy the two of you also had shared earlier.

“I think ya should do it,” Angel Dust said after a few moments of silence, downing the remaining liquor in his glass, before turning to you. You lifted your head from your hands, you met his gaze with surprise written across your features.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, placing one hand supportively on your shoulder as he continued, “Now I ain’t tryna be mean to ya, but… the hotel was a great place for you before the baby, but with our track record with keeping this place from being attacked by thugs and angels, it mayyy not be so good for the actual baby. Ya get me?”

You took a sip of the water in front of you, nodding slowly as the answer you had been searching for finally settled on your shoulders. You turned to face the spider demon, your lips curving into a small frown and he tilted his head at you.

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you murmured, rubbing your hands together self-soothing.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me cry, toots! C’mere!,” Angel Dust wrapped all four arms around you, and you returned the embrace with a tight grip.

And wow, his fuzz was soft. You finally understood the appeal as you held your friend close. Even though in retrospect you had only known the porn star for a short amount of time, the bond you shared was heartwarming and kind. One of the few relationships of Angel’s that didn’t devolve into debauchery and drugs.

Two hours later, you stood in front of Charlie, hands once again rubbing together in an attempt to soothe the nerves that were making it difficult to hold eye contact with the princess as you filled her in on the decision regarding your future. You planned to move into the manor, and raise the baby in a place that most resembled a home, instead of growing up in a hotel room.

“You’re going to go live with my dad?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed at your words.

You tensed. Was she apprehensive of the idea?

“Yes, but it’s nothing crazy like I’m getting with your dad or anything… haha.. yeah,” you trailed off, because you were feeling like that may turn out to be untrue sooner than later.

At least, you hoped they did. For now, it was just something along the lines of roommates, even with how silly that sounded in your head.

“Well…” She began, rubbing her chin in thought, and sweat beaded down your forehead as she continued, “I think… it's a wonderful idea! I really enjoyed growing up there, and I’m sure your daughter would too!”

Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your body and your shoulders relaxed.

With Charlie’s blessing, it was all you needed to give Lucifer the news. He practically jumped for joy as you gave him your answer, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I have to baby-proof the whole place beforehand!” he had proclaimed, racing around the makeshift room he had been staying in the past few days as he grabbed his cane.

“She won’t even be able to crawl for a while longer,” you had laughed with a raised brow.

“I can’t afford anything less than perfect,” Lucifer shook his head, grabbing his coat and hat to get everything ready as soon as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of creation, remember? It’ll only be a jiffy.”

The king had literally exploded into a burst of confetti, a sizzle of magic zapping him out of the room and away to the manor. You had blinked, the colored paper mache settling on your shoulders as you turned towards the hallway.

It seemed like the only thing that was left was to start packing, and so away you worked for the next few hours.

Peaches was swaddled tightly against your chest in a makeshift baby wrap, made from a sheet of fabric that held her close and secure to you while you placed clothes and other items into organized boxes.

Lucifer had been back in a jiffy, appearing at your door right as you finished stuffing everything away into storage. It took a snap of his finger for all of your things to go poof in a cloud of red smoke, and the king had summoned a limo to take the three of you back to the manor, since traveling with magic was risky with an infant.

You had stood on the front steps of the hotel, trying to contain the tears as you wished farewell to your friends. They watched you leave with furrowed brows, and Charlie had even sniffled once as you and your daughter climbed into the white vehicle.

“Come by and visit us sometime!” Charlie called as the limo pulled off from the curve and you leaned out the window for a final wave as the hotel disappeared from view.

When you arrived at that glittering, white, and gold royal home, you were met with tall, imposing statues depicting regal figures from centuries past, their stony gazes fixed upon the entrance. As the limo pulled up to the front steps, you noticed the large gardens surrounding the manor, each flower seemingly in perfect bloom despite the season. Fountains sprayed later spouts of water up in the air, before cascading down into glittering pools.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Lucifer had smiled as you took your tour around the premises, examining the once-neatly trimmed bushes that lined the place.

There were no imp servants, or attendees at all really, which explained why the place was beginning to look overgrown by the hellish flora. Large red vines climbed up the manor’s side, a few even weaved across large panes of glass, windows that would have once offered a beautiful sight.

It appeared the current homeowner was not doing a very good job maintaining the place, and you weren’t going to let this place rot any longer. You’d have to add landscaping to the job description when you felt good enough to do such heavy tasks.

Right as you stepped through those large, golden doors, you were greeted with crystal chandeliers that illuminated a giant corridor. Plush, red carpet met your feet as you a few more steps inside, your eyes tracing over the array of paintings and sculptures lining the walls, along with a few family portraits and other elegant decor.

It was clear that the interior was designed by the women of the house, the lack of circus decor even prevalent inside the Hazbin Hotel was nowhere in sight. As you followed Lucifer down the hallway, you guessed his withdrawals had given him no strength to change the house to his liking. You stepped through a tall, open doorway into what seemed to be a parlor.

Lucifer paused, turning to you with a warm smile as you joined him with your daughter in your arms inside the living space. You took in the sight of velvet couches circling a large fireplace and a small bar snug against the opposite wall, bottles of liquor lining the racks behind the counter.

"Welcome home," he said, his voice soft as he turned. Peaches cooed softly, seemingly content in the entrancing, shiny surroundings. You followed Lucifer down another large corridor, and he began to give a proper tour of the residency.

You didn’t realize how big this place really was until he showed you the third parlor in the house. This one had more tables, seemingly for dining primarily, but with a similar fireplace nestled in one of the walls near two, red armchairs.

When Lucifer said you’d have large, private areas, you assumed he was just being generous and giving you some of his dwellings. Now, you knew that wasn’t the case, as there was definitely enough for the both of you between three large bathrooms, five bedrooms, and two dining rooms.

It took a few days to settle in, as Lucifer helped you unpack your things with easy magic and you found renewed energy in making the nursery perfect for your daughter.

It was clear, from day one, that the two of you weren’t going to be just roommates, when you found yourself stealing kick kisses from him as you organized the nursery, or when his hand found your waist as you rocked Peaches to sleep in your arms some days. Some nights, you found yourself playfully bantering with the fallen angel in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in your hands as gentle music played in the back.

Lucifer’s presence and companionship seemed to be what you needed for your emotions to begin to stabilize, along with the fact that you had practically an entire mansion to yourself, instead of sharing the living areas with a large group of demons like back at the hotel.

The king wasn’t holed up in his home all the time anymore, as he joined his daughter in promoting the hotel and actually making an effort to go to a meeting here and there. He had a purpose now, and you noticed that subtle ethereal radiance that lined his figure began to glow brighter with each passing day.

Lucifer’s social battery was still adjusting to the changes in his daily routines, and some nights he’d return with heavy eyelids and sluggish steps, as if he had returned from a battle against Heaven.

You had been sitting in the front parlor one cozy night, a book in your hand as you waited for the king’s return. He usually wasn’t gone so long, and the dinner you had made had gone cold, so all there was to do was sit around and wait.

Your daughter’s colic seemed to have tapered off by now, as it has already been a few weeks since you arrived at the manor. This was a relief, and you found yourself sleeping much longer, your energy and patience naturally returning.

That fear of being useless began to dissipate, now that you were able to enjoy time in the kitchen, testing out new receipts for Lucifer as his chef. He paid you very handsomely, even though you rarely did cook as you recovered from postpartum and kept busy with the baby.

You didn’t complain though, it was nice to see a paycheck that could actually cover all your groceries and bills, if you actually paid any of the bills around here... did Lucifer even have bills?

Your thoughts were cut off when the sound of heeled boots thumped across the corridor right outside the room, and the book in your hands lowered to the coffee table in front of you.

Lucifer kicked off his boots at the door to the parlor, his hooves meeting the carpet as they dragged towards the couch you were lazing on. His blonde was hair disheveled, and some of the gold buttons on his vest were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of what lay below his collarbone.

He looked exhausted, his eyes tiredly frog-blinking as he fell against the cushions beside you, before exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Rough day?” You whispered softly, and he turned his head slightly to face you.

“Just.. a lot,” was Lucifer’s response, his eyelids fluttering close for a few moments as he drank in the warmth from the crackling fire nearby.

You watched the fallen angel for a few more moments, his breath rising and falling slowly as he relaxed. His skin practically glowed against the soft colors thrown across the room from the dancing flames. A thought crossed your mind, and hesitantly, you reached a hand to Lucifer’s shoulder.

You felt him tense slightly from your touch, before relaxing slowly as you gripped his shoulder and forearm and began tugging him to lay down against you. He turned his head, raising a brow as he began to lean against you.

“Come here,” you smiled warmly, as you pulled him to fall over against you.

Lucifer’s head softly landed on your lap, his face upturned towards the ceiling as you smiled down at him. He watched the orange light reflect against your skin, enhancing your already perfect features.

You lifted a hand towards his face, before you began to gently brush your fingers through his hair. Your nails grazed against the king’s scalp and a satisfied sigh left his lips. A hum reached his ears, as you quietly filled the room, with the soft tune.

Something stirred inside the king, and emotions began bubbling up into his throat, and he could barely contain them as his lips parted.

“Can I tell you something?” Lucifer whispered after a moment.

“Of course,” you nodded, tilting your head down to him.

“I think… that I’m in love with you.”

Those words had your hands stilling against his scalp, and your breath hitched.

Lucifer in love with you?

Oh, the joy you felt, at finally hearing those words you only had dreamed of for so long. Your grin spreading ear to ear as heat crept across your cheeks.

“Oh, you silly man,” you laughed softly down to the nervous face in your lap, before you gripped Lucifer by the collar and pulled him up from your lap.

You leaned down and pressed your lips softly to his, and the king rose the rest of the way on his own. He pulled you against him, as his back hit the cushions and you pivoted to straddle him as the kiss deepened.

Lucifer’s arms were snaked around your waist, and your hands cupped both sides of his face as the two of you were lost in this intimate, quiet moment of affection finally revealed.

Time flew by fast after that, once your daily routines began to settle into place. Lucifer began to step in more in raising the baby, and sometimes you’d find your daughter in his arms, and a sweet, soothing tune coming from his lips.

You’d stand there, leaning against the nursery doorway as you watched with a warm smile. Peaches was beginning to like–no, love him. You could tell when she started to let him dress her up without her usual stink eye. She was now able to sit up and speak in her own, unique form of baby talk.

“Stop moving,” You had heard Lucifer laugh one day from inside the large bedroom, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be!”

A string of incomprehensible sounds followed, high-pitched babbling from the tiny figure in response.

“Hey, don’t give me attitude, missy!” You heard playful chastising from the king, and you turned into the doorway to see his back towards you, as he kneeled over your daughter.

Her tiny legs kicked in protest as he wrangled something onto her, and you took a few steps into the room before announcing your presence.

“Lucifer…?” You started, nearing the bed.

He jumped at your voice, before pivoting to face you with an innocent smile. Your daughter was visible now, some kind of bright yellow fabric around her head and hugging the rest of her body.

“Hey! Don’t mind us, we're just testing something!” Lucifer’s smile widened.

“Testing what?” You asked with a smile.

Lucifer’s smile turned playful as he turned back to your daughter and lifted her towards you, and your eyes widened.

Peaches was dressed in a fuzzy, yellow duck onesie. Its head was designed into a hood that was pulled over her head, the orange beaking sticking out and resting slightly on her forehead. She babbled something incoherent with an open, gummed smile, something probably along the lines of ‘Look! Don’t I look so gosh darn cute?’

“I pulled out some of Charlie’s baby clothes from storage, and funny enough they fit Peaches just fine,” Lucifer continued, placing his cheek against your daughter’s and rubbing it affectionately with puckered lips, “She is so adowable in her wittle onesie, huh?”

“Yes, she is!” You cooed, leaning forward to pinch one of her cheeks with a grin.

The three of you were beginning to turn into a proper family, and it became obvious when Lucifer started making breakfast for the three of you in the early mornings, despite paying you for such tasks.

“You know that's my job, right?” You quirked a brow as Lucifer stood in front of the stone, flipping large, fluffy pancakes in a pan, before placing them upon a steaming pile of deliciousness.

“You have days off, don’t you?” He hummed in response, turning off the stove and sliding the plate into his hands, “Will you grab the syrup for me, please?”

You opened the cupboards nearby, grabbing the large bottle of syrup as you followed him toward the dining area, your daughter playing with a rattle on the floor near the long table. She was able to crawl now, a speedy little demon that took off as soon as you turned the other way.

Luckily, Lucifer had baby gates to help with that, and now she was easily confined into any room for fear of escaping. Her tiny stomach growled and she lifted her gaze from the toy as you and Lucifer stepped over the gate.

Peaches squealed with happiness, and began to crawl towards you, her hands plapping against the tile as she moved. She slowed right next to the last dining chair at the table, before her head lifted to examine it for a moment.

Your daughter began to lift herself onto two feet as she gripped the dining chair’s leg. She was getting good at standing by herself, but she had never managed to successfully step forward and not flop back onto her butt.

You set the syrup on the dining table, ignoring her movements as first as you helped set the table. It wasn’t until you turned to place her into the high chair, did you watch your daughter’s foot begin to lift.

Peaches took one step forward, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain balance. Your mouth dropped, and your arm reached out to grip the back of Lucifer’s shirt and tug him beside you.

“What’s going on, why are yo–” Lucifer froze beside you, as your daughter lifted the other foot and took another wobbly step forward.

She had never remained on two feet for this long, and she didn’t look like she was stopping yet. Lucifer quickly lowered onto his knees, and you joined him as he stretched out his arms.

“Peaches, come on!” He called to the little girl, who was only a foot away from the two as she smiled at the fallen angel and took another step closer.

You joined him, cheering for your daughter as she took another step, and another, and then she reached out her little arms towards the two of you. She took the final step, before she lost total balance and fell forward.

The both of you jumped forward and embraced Peaches at once, the three of you in a tight huddle of affection as your daughter giggled against your chest.

You peppered kisses against her forehead, tears pricking at your eyes as you lifted them to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His eyes were glistening as well, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, your smile large and brilliant.

It was clear now, that your little family had grown to include another, and you were so thrilled it was Lucifer. Your ex, and the fears that came with his betrayal began to dissipate from your mind, and a tear rolled down your cheek in happiness.

From that day on, you promised to make sure that your little girl would always have a father in her life, although it seems like you’ve already found the one who would cherish her for the rest of eternity.

“Psst, Mom!”

You grumbled incoherently, still in the clutches of sleep as the voice rudely interrupted the nice dream you had been having in the early hours of the morning.

“Moooooommmm, wake up!”

You stirred awake at the voice hissing in your ear, your eyes fluttering open inside the dark master bedroom of the manor. Someone was standing right in front of you, a short figure tapping her foot impatiently as you lifted your head from the pillows.

The room was still covered in blackness, the morning light unable to escape through the blackout curtains blanketing the large bedroom. You could see the outline of a small figure in the shadows at the edge of your bed, illuminated by the open doorway behind her.

“What is it, baby?” You rubbed your tired eyes, turning to face your daughter.

Peaches was much older now, the name long outgrown her as she aged from toddler, to child, to girl. She resembled a nine year old now, that cute baby fat gone from her limbs, and her chubby little cheeks beginning to sharpen into gorgeous features.

“Can I go with Charlie to the mall? She said she’ll pick me up in an hour if that’s okay.”

Charlie and your daughter had been doing everything together lately, which you guessed was because of the older woman’s joy in having a little sister she could take under her wing. They may not be related by blood, but nobody could tell the difference with the bond those two shared.

Peaches often assisted her at the now-bustling hotel, learning how to best help the inhabitants of Hell through the teachings of her sisterly figure.

“Sure, tell Charlie I said hi,” you nodded with a smile, and your daughter bounced giddily on her toes.

“Yay! Thank you, mom!” She lowered her face down to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping her arms around your neck for a tight hug before backing away, “I Love you, see you later!”

You watched her rush out of the room with a slip in her step, the door closing softly behind her.

“What was all that about?” A voice tiredly mumbled beside you, and warm arms snaked around your waist.

You laid your head back against the pillow, repositioning your body to face toward the naked figure beside you.

“She just wanted to go out and have some fun with Charlie,” you replied to the tired, pearly face before you, his blonde hair disheveled around him as he blinked the sleep away with a yawn.

“Those two are like glue, nowadays,” your husband, Lucifer, yawned, pulling you flush against his bare chest in one smooth motion.

You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses across his skin, earning a pleasurable noise from his throat.

“Should we get up and make some breakfast?” You asked into his skin.

“Five more minutes,” you heard him mutter, as he rubbed his cheek against yours affectionately.

That gives me five more minutes to think about how lucky I am to have you by my side.

“Okay,” you smiled softly, placing a loving kiss against his forehead before snuggling closer, “Five more minutes.”

woah lots of emotions in this one, good thing everything worked out in the end, eh? the art was done by indxlulu over on twt, go check out some of their other work!

what did you think? let me know! <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @xoxohugslove @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x mama!reader #lucifer morningstar x momma!reader

867 notes · View notes

alyrasturnz · 2 months

Note

pls write an angsty fic where matt gets mad at reader for being too clingy but he finds her shivering on the couch and yeah just a happy ending

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎TOO CLINGY ?

❐ summary » when matt falters and, in a moment of weakness, channels all his pent-up anger towards you, the weight of his mistake hangs heavy in the air. his frustration, like a storm, lashes out, leaving emotional wreckage in its wake.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » angst, argument, lowkey toxic!matt

❐ a/n && w/c » this was sloppy af.. my vision is so blurry dude its so late and im so sleepy i cant think straight • 2.80k

the tension had been simmering all day, a cauldron of unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings, teetering on the brink of eruption. you had sought refuge in his presence, your touches and embraces a desperate attempt to bridge the widening chasm between you. yet, he remained indifferent, his demeanor as impenetrable as a storm cloud brooding on the horizon, casting a shadow over every fleeting moment of intimacy.

each time you endeavored to initiate any form of physical connection, he would instinctively recoil, as if your touch carried the weight of an unspoken burden. his reactions were swift and unyielding, a silent rebuke that deepened the chasm between you with every attempt.

»--•--«

9:37 AM, saturday

your eyes fluttered open, the absence of matt's arms around your waist immediately unsettling you. this deviation from the norm sent a ripple of unease through you. as you rolled over, you were met with the sight of his side of the bed, meticulously made and conspicuously empty, a silent testament to his early departure.

you cast your gaze over to his desk, where he was seated with an air of quiet concentration. his hair, still tousled from sleep, framed his face in a disheveled halo. before him, the glow of his open google docs illuminated the scene, a silent witness to his early morning endeavors.

you smile softly, the gentle curve of your lips a fleeting expression of warmth. sitting up, you rise to your feet, the chill of the ground seeping through your soles as you make your way towards him, each step a delicate bridge between the realms of your shared solitude and his focused sanctuary.

you wrap your arms around him from behind, feeling the subtle shift in his posture as he tenses beneath your embrace. the tension radiates through his frame, a silent testament to the unspoken complexities that linger between you, each heartbeat a whisper of the uncharted emotions that bind you together.

you furrowed your eyebrows, a fleeting expression of concern that you quickly brushed aside. leaning down slightly, you planted a soft kiss onto the top of his head, the tender gesture infused with unspoken affection, a delicate attempt to bridge the silent chasm that had momentarily formed.

"hi baby," you muttered into his hair, your voice a gentle murmur that wove through the strands like a whispered secret, carrying with it the weight of unspoken emotions and the subtle promise of comfort and connection.

"hi," he said, his voice cold and distant. you furrowed your eyebrows once more, the chill of his tone reverberating through you as you straightened up, the moment heavy with unspoken questions and a palpable tension that seemed to hang in the air.

"you okay? something bothering you?" you ask, your voice laced with concern. he responds by shrugging your arms off of him, the gesture a silent yet poignant rejection that leaves a lingering ache in the space where your touch had been.

"i'm fine," he muttered, his fingers dancing around his keyboard with a restless, almost mechanical precision, each keystroke a testament to the emotional distance he was trying to maintain.

"okay, i'm gonna go make breakfast," you say, walking around him with a measured grace until you're beside him. you cup his face gently, leaning in for a kiss, but he subtly swerves, the motion a silent yet unmistakable evasion that leaves your gesture hanging in the air.

"mm yeah okay," he mumbles, shrugging you off again, leaving you perplexed. the weight of his dismissal lingers, but you choose not to dwell on it as you walk out of his room, the unanswered questions trailing behind you like shadows.

»--•--«

3:34 PM, saturday

matt was on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv screen. a small smile crept onto your lips as you watched him, the flickering light casting a warm glow over his focused expression, creating a momentary haven of tranquility amidst the chaos.

you saw this as the perfect chance to cuddle with him, the opportunity presenting itself like a rare gem. you moved towards him, the anticipation of his warmth drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

you walked towards him, each step deliberate and measured, before settling down next to him on the couch. he slightly shifts in his seat, his eyes still glued to the screen, the flickering images reflecting in his gaze, creating an almost hypnotic trance.

"what are you watching?" you ask, your voice a soft murmur as you gently rest your head on his shoulder. the question hangs in the air, mingling with the ambient sounds of the television, as you seek to bridge the quiet distance between you.

he gently shrugs you off, his voice still cold as he mumbles, "10 things i hate about you." the words, though simple, carry an undercurrent of detachment, creating a chasm between the two of you that feels both vast and unbridgeable.

"you love that movie, don't you?" you giggle softly, inching closer to him, your attempt to rest your head on his shoulder interrupted as he abruptly gets up. the suddenness of his movement sends a jolt through you, and you watch as he stomps away, the sound of his footsteps echoing the unspoken tension in the room.

you furrow your eyebrows, a deep crease forming as concern washes over you. he's been acting strange and distant, his avoidance like a shadow that has lingered over you both all day.

have you done something to provoke his ire? you wonder, the question gnawing at the edges of your mind, casting a long shadow of doubt over your thoughts.

»--•--«

11:12 PM, saturday

now, you find yourself lying on his bed beside him, his back turned towards you in a gesture that feels like a silent barrier. the room is filled with an unsettling quiet, each second stretching into an eternity.

as you gaze at his turned form, a frown tugs at your lips, the weight of his silent withdrawal pressing heavily on your heart, leaving you to ponder the invisible chasm that has grown between you.

as the night deepened, you made another attempt to bridge the ever-widening gap, slipping your arms around him in a tender embrace, hoping your warmth might melt the icy fortress he had built around himself.

"can you just give me some space?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet room like a whip crack. "i need to breathe without you constantly clinging to me," he continued, each word a sharp, stinging rebuke that left you reeling in the wake of his sudden outburst.

your heart felt as if it had been struck by a hammer, the sting of his words reverberating through every fiber of your being. "i was just trying to be close to you," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your hurt and confusion.

"why do you have to be so cruel?" you continued, each word laced with the raw pain of his unexpected harshness, leaving you to grapple with the emotional chasm that seemed to yawn wider with every passing moment.

he turned to you, his eyes cold and unyielding, like shards of ice piercing through the dim light. "because i can't stand it anymore," he spat, his words dripping with venom. "you're suffocating me with your neediness. it's pathetic," he continued, each syllable cutting through the air like a blade, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the weight of his cruel declaration.

the harshness of his words cut deep, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if your very soul had been laid bare. "i'm not trying to suffocate you," you whispered, tears streaming down your face like rivers of sorrow.

"i just want to be there for you," you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your earnest longing and the pain of his rejection, hoping against hope that he might see the sincerity in your eyes.

he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "you think you're helping? you're just making everything worse," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "i can't even think straight with you around, always needing something from me," he continued, each word a dagger aimed at your heart, leaving you to grapple with the crushing weight of his contempt.

you felt a tempest of anger and sorrow welling up inside you, your hands trembling as you struggled to hold back the flood of tears. "i never knew you felt this way," you said, your voice barely audible, a whisper lost in the storm of emotions. "why didn't you tell me sooner?" you continued, the question hanging in the air like a fragile thread, seeking answers amidst the turmoil of your heart.

"because it's pointless," he said, his tone dismissive, like a door slamming shut. "you wouldn't understand. you're too wrapped up in your own world to see how you're dragging me down," he continued, his words like heavy chains, binding you in a prison of misunderstanding and despair.

the weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders, leaving you feeling small and insignificant, as though the very ground beneath you had shifted. "i'm sorry," you said, your voice breaking like fragile glass. "i didn't mean to hurt you," you continued, each word a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had opened between you.

he rolled his eyes, his expression one of contempt, a cold mask that concealed any trace of warmth. "save your apologies," he said, his voice like ice. "i don't need them. i need you to back off and give me some space," he continued, each word a barrier, pushing you further away, leaving you to grapple with the chasm that now yawned between you.

with a heavy heart, you nodded, the weight of resignation settling over you like a shroud. "fine," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a fragile echo of your inner turmoil. "i'll give you the space you want," you continued, each word a reluctant surrender, an acknowledgment of the widening distance that now separated your worlds.

you turned and walked away, each step a painful relinquishment of hope. the sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the room, a final punctuation to the conversation, leaving him alone with his anger and the oppressive silence that followed, a silence that seemed to swallow all the unsaid words and unresolved emotions.

»--•--«

2:45 AM, sunday

matt had been caught in a relentless dance of restlessness, his body twisting and turning in the sheets as the hours dragged on. sleep eluded him, a distant and unattainable dream, for the absence of your presence left a void too vast to ignore.

without the comforting weight of your head resting on his chest or the warmth of your body nestled in his arms, tranquility slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him adrift in a sea of sleepless longing.

he extended his hand toward the vacant expanse of the bed, the emptiness a stark reminder of his solitude. guilt, like a relentless specter, tugged at the delicate threads of his heart, weaving a tapestry of remorse and sorrow. a frown, unbidden and sorrowful, etched itself onto his lips, a silent testament to the ache of your absence.

he was acutely aware of the distance he had imposed between you both today, a chasm carved by the weight of his own burdens. guilt gnawed at his conscience, a relentless reminder of how he had unfairly unleashed his stress upon you. you, with your unwavering patience and kindness, did not deserve to bear the brunt of his turmoil.

he swallowed his pride, the bitter taste lingering as he rose from his bed. with a heavy heart, he made his way out of his room, each step echoing the weight of his resolve, and ventured into the living room, seeking solace or perhaps redemption.

he discovered you shivering on the couch, your delicate frame curled up in a futile attempt to capture any semblance of warmth. the sight of your vulnerability pierced through him, a silent plea for comfort etched in the contours of your form.

a blanket was draped over you, yet it did little to stave off the shivers that coursed through your body. the sight of you, cold and vulnerable on the couch due to his actions, tugged painfully at his heartstrings as he approached, each step laden with the weight of his remorse.

his heart clenched at the sight, the pang of guilt nearly overwhelming. without uttering a single word, he gently scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to the room, each step a silent vow to make amends for the pain he had caused.

you stirred, drowsy and disoriented, your eyes fluttering open in a futile attempt to grasp the reality unfolding around you. "what... what's going on?" you murmured, your voice a fragile whisper, barely audible in the quiet of the room.

"shh, it's okay," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm as he gently laid you down on the bed, tucking the blanket around you with tender care.

his eyes, brimming with remorse, held a depth of sorrow as he sat beside you, delicately brushing a strand of hair from your face. "i'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his genuine regret. "i never meant to push you away. please, forgive me."

you reached out with trembling fingers, your hand finding his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "it's okay," you whispered, your voice a soothing melody amidst the tension. your eyes, softening with forgiveness, met his with an understanding that transcended words.

"i understand," you continued, each word a gentle balm to his aching heart, conveying a depth of empathy that only the closest of bonds could foster.

but he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him, a relentless specter haunting his conscience. "no, it's not okay," he insisted, his voice quivering with the weight of his remorse. "i was wrong, utterly wrong. i should have never treated you like that. you deserve so much better, more than i have given."

you shook your head, a small, bittersweet smile playing on your lips. "what matters is that you're here now," you said softly, your voice imbued with a gentle warmth. "and that you're truly sorry. that's enough for me. the past is a shadow, but your presence now is the light that dispels it."

he looked at you, his eyes a tumultuous sea of guilt and gratitude. "i promise i'll make it up to you," he vowed, his voice resolute despite the emotion that threatened to choke him. "i'll never hurt you like that again. i'll spend every moment proving that you're cherished, beyond words and beyond measure."

you nodded, your heart swelling with a profound mixture of love and forgiveness. "i believe you," you whispered, and in that moment, the oppressive silence that had once filled the room began to lift, replaced by a fragile yet hopeful sense of reconciliation, a delicate promise of mending what was once broken.

he sat there for a moment longer, his hand still holding yours, as if afraid that releasing it would shatter the fragile bond you were rebuilding. "i just... i can't forgive myself for making you feel this way," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with sorrow. "seeing you like this, it breaks my heart into pieces."

you squeezed his hand tighter, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering resolve. "we all make mistakes," you said gently, your voice a soothing balm. "what matters is that we learn from them and grow, becoming better versions of ourselves. and i believe, with all my heart, that you will."

he nodded, swallowing hard as he fought back the tears threatening to spill. "i will," he promised, his voice trembling with emotion. "i'll do everything within my power to become the person you truly deserve."

you smiled, a serene sense of peace washing over you like a gentle tide. "that's all i ask," you whispered, your voice imbued with a quiet strength. your eyes fluttered closed as the weight of exhaustion began to envelop you. "just be here with me," you murmured, the words hanging in the air like a delicate promise, an unspoken plea for presence and companionship in the face of weariness.

he watched as you drifted off to sleep, his heart a tumultuous blend of guilt and unwavering determination. he understood the arduous journey that lay before him, a path fraught with challenges and the need to earn back your trust.

yet, he was resolute, ready to traverse every step, no matter how treacherous. for you, he would move mountains, conquer any obstacle, and face any hardship.

tags — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetameivous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike

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