#and I think he’d still be insane enough to loose an eye while pregnant

[spock-smokes-weed]

One of the problems I have with a lot of Omegaverse fanfiction is that the characters are either really OOC, or they’re declawed in some way.

People really underestimate pregnant people and that really reflects in these fanfictions. Sad to see.

Here’s your permission to make whatever blorbo you want to knock up just as insane as they are in canon. Let them do crazy things, it’s okay I promise.

[baekhvuns]

the duke and his general.

synopsis : in which seonghwa is the duke you’re arranged to, while you’re the general of the royal army.

pairing : seonghwa x reader

themes : angst, romcom & smut.

word count : 15k ( part three + final )

three weeks.

three weeks since you last saw the man you once loved.

“miss y/n, would you like your breakfast in the room?”

you lift your head up front the mountain of blankets piled up on you, with a hazy smile and tired face you nod. “that would be great, thank you.”

you shut your eyes once the maid leaves, wanting nothing but the nauseous feeling in your stomach to stop, but the pounding headache makes you shoot up in panic.

your hand automatically flies to your mouth and your eyes widen, you run to the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat up before puking your guts out.

you’re breathing heavily and it feels like you’re about to die, as if someone’s squeezing your insides. tears run down you cheeks and you open your mouth once again.

clutching your shirt tightly you swallowed, “s-seonghwa, where are you?” you call out. flushing the toilet, you get up from the ground, stepping towards the sink to clean yourself.

“hwa,” you call out once again, but no one responds. holding your stomach, you walk out to see the maid standing there with worry etched on her face, you smile lightly and take a seat.

“miss, are you alright?” the elderly lady asks you nod through the insane headache you have, “the duke, he’s gone for a trip, he’ll be back before dinner.”

you nod once again and she leaves the tray beside you with a worried face, “thank you.” once she leaves, your eyes settle on the delicious food made for you.

as much as you want to eat it, your stomach is telling you no. it’s as if you have no appetite left, as if all of it was flushed down the toilet. you push the tray away, and shut your eyes before laying on the bed again.

the next time you wake up, it’s the evening. your room is cleaned by the maids and it’s empty. your bed is cold, but the headache seems to disappear, you lift yourself up and glance around the room.

still, no sign of seonghwa.

ever since the day he yelled at you for going to the war, which you were rightfully wrong in, he hasn’t spared you a glance. you know the ‘trip’ he’s gone to is just a way to ignore you, and truthfully, you do deserve it.

after all, you did think recklessly and went to fight on the battlefield. but you had a valid reason, but the man just wasn’t ready to listen to any of your talk.

your hand lifts up to caress your neck, the wound on it patched up in a white bandage. it hurt, you’re sure their might be a scar forming on it already, if not, you’ve already been scarred by his words.

a sigh flees your lips, your hair falls over your shoulders and you stand up to walk outside. the walk to the gardens is short but it feels like forever, there’s no one in the palace.

guards are off for their afternoon break, yet a few of them are having lunch in their quarters. you decide to take a seat on the white bench that overviews the garden, the sun rays pout down on you and the slight wind eases your nauseous mood.

you usually sit beside seonghwa on this bench, his hands around your shoulder and his chin resting on your head. no matter how much you tried to get away from him, he’d pull you even closer, whining in your ear about you not giving him enough attention.

you smile at the sudden memory reeling through your mind, but then it fades, and it reminds you that he’s not beside you. you’re sitting alone in a field of flowers with a hand on your stomach, caressing it slowly.

you wander around the palace, eyes lowered to the floor because you didn’t want to meet the pity stares of the workers. one of them being kind enough to make you something to eat, that which you ate in the silence of the kitchen and again, you felt nauseous.

you held your head in your hands, lips trembling and your eyes watery. low sniffles echoed the kitchen and your hair acted as a curtain, covering your face.

your shoulders shake slightly as tears rolled down your cheeks, you’ve never felt so weak in your entire life. it’s weird, because you’re supposed to be stronger in the time, you’re in, but it really is disappointing when the only person you’ve loved isn’t by your side.

when you hear footsteps from afar, you quickly get up. wiping your eyes so that no traces of tears were visible, you let your hair fall in-front of your swollen eyes and walked by the group of people who you only recognized as your comrades.

“y/-“

you walk straight past them, have been for the last few weeks. avoiding their calls for your name and speed walking down to your room, locking yourself in.

the guys look at each other unsurely, san sighs before leaving them standing in the middle of the hallway. the rest glance at each other, silence enveloping them all.

“what do we do?” yunho breaks the silence, running a hand through his hair.

hongjoong shakes his head, “we can’t do anything, he’s the only who can do something to fix whatever’s happening.”

“but we can’t just do nothing, i don’t think i’ve ever seen her so down.” wooyoung squeaks, swallowing at that thought.

“where even is he?” yeosang breaks his silence, “i haven’t seen him in days.”

“he’s spending time down at the stables, he’ll be back around dinner.” with a tired sigh they all walk to their respective places.

and when night does fall, all of them finding each other sitting down sitting down by the table. the king and queen sitting at the farther end, you sitting opposite seonghwa while the rest sit wherever they wanted.

you play around with the food placed on your plate; you haven’t lifted your eyes ever since you walked in here. choosing to sit quietly in your chair while nibbling on the food that you don’t crave for.

the dinner is silent, if not for the random conversations created by wooyoung and san and occasionally by the rest. seonghwa’s mother talks to you and you could hear the excitement in her voice, she goes on and on about her wish for seonghwa to have kids.

you resist the urge to laugh with her, showing a smile as she handed you extra portions of the food you’ve barely touched.

and as for seonghwa, the man sitting in front of you seems unrecognizable, he’s sitting proper, hair brushed back with a smile on his face that’s so fake that it hurts to look at, he chats with hongjoong who sat beside him.

he hasn’t dared to look at you in the eye but you know him too well, you know it’s hurting him to do this but he’ll do it until it quenches his satisfaction.

just as you bring a bite of food near your mouth, your eyes widen and you stare at seonghwa before glancing at his mother, who thankfully, was already looking at you.

you flash her a look of pain before shooting your hand up to your mouth, eyebrows crossed you cursed in your mind.

“i-“ you start but you’re not able to finish because you make a run for it your room. holding onto your stomach as you ran, leaving the rest in confusion.

seonghwa’s mother immediately rushes behind you, leaving the rest. the guys get up from their seats, face etched in worry as they watch you run with confused yet worried eyes.

seonghwa’s father, the king, himself is worried but when his eyes land on his son sitting calmly, eating his food as if nothing had just happened, made him confused yet irritated.

san’s eyes shot daggers into seonghwa’s skull, jaw clenching at the fact that your husband is blatantly ignorant you while you’re pregnant. his face shows utter anger for the man before he walks to your room, hongjoong follows soon after.

his father gives the rest of the guys a nod and they too find themselves walking to your room, leaving only him and seonghwa in the room.

“what do you think you’re doing.” his father questions, wiping his hands on the napkin.

seonghwa looks up, “having dinner, father.”

his father raises his eyebrows, “oh, and how about y/n? your wife?”

“what about her?”

his father squints his eyes at him, “your wife, who’s pregnant and is sick, while you’re sitting here as if you don’t know her! how inconsiderate you are.”

seonghwa clenches his jaw at his father, but when his father gives him a look, he tones it down. “you’ll behave the same way if you find out what’s she did.”

“i do not care what she has done, what matters is her health and the child she’s carrying, your child!”

“dad, she went to the war!” he yells, finally loosing it. “she went to the war alone knowing she was not in the right condition too!”

his father stands up, “you, go to her right now. what matters is that she’s alive, right now she needs you the most but you’re here sitting as if none of it bothers you!”

“you’re stubborn,” he pauses, “just like your mother.”

the entire week had been tough for you, you had terrible morning sickness, crazy headaches, uncomfortable sleep patterns, tiredness and barely any appetite.

fortunately, seonghwa’s mother had been by you through all of it, with some special appearances from san and hongjoong who seemed to have made it their schedule to visit you four times a day.

your cravings for certain foods had increased drastically, which made san run to the markets late at night to get you what you wanted. or how sensitive your nose had gotten, almost making hongjoong shower three times.

on the nicer and not hard times, you were able to be in your bed the entire day. or take a walk in the gardens while one of the guys accompanied you, lifting your mood up with their jokes.

but you didn’t want any of that, you wanted seonghwa.

speaking of him, he is in the palace, but sleeps in a different room. eats at a different time as you so he wouldn’t have to see you, or when you two walk by each other, he barely looks at you but you bow your head at him.

“it’s your highness for you.”

you hated doing it, hated it when he didn’t look at you. as much as in the past you’d shoo him away, now you were urging for the said man. hoping he’d at least exchange a few words with you.

but you aren’t blind either, you know he asks the maids to check up on you, or just to check on the baby growing inside of you. you know he sees you walk around the hallways, hiding the pain on your face from the cramps.

his mother and father sympathized with you, offering, and helping you with anything you needed.

but failing to bring one man.

others couldn’t help but be upset at the situation, guards who stood outside your room late at night could hear the faint sound of you weeping.

the guys weren’t blinded to it either, they could hear your cries at the late hours of night. when you think everyone’s fallen asleep, they hadn’t seen such side of you and it shocked them but also made them angry at the man.

so when you decided you have had enough, with his parents permission you pack your bags and leave the palace for a few days or even more. finding home at your parent’s, who welcomed you with bright smiles not knowing what had really happened.

your mother fed you the butteriest meals ever, never not leaving your side even for a minute. or how your father brought a thick book full of names, sitting on his favourite burgundy couch with his glasses on and a lamp turned on beside him, looking over the lists of names to find a contender.

or how your older brother had joined, returning from the navy only to bother you by mentioning ridiculous names to name his niece or nephew. he brought home multiple toys and takes the time to accompany you to the market, lending a hand for holding the bags.

“seriously y/n, if it’s a girl, name her-“

“for the last time sehun, i’m not gonna name my child after some fancy revolver or a alcohol brand!”

“no, but imagine nam-“

“i’m not gonna name my kid ak-47!”

“how about hennessy!”

“get out of my face!”

and as for the the situation in the palace, let’s just say no one has spoken about you for the past two days. you had been living with your parents and they all couldn’t be more happier knowing you’re in a much better environment.

they continue their daily activities at ease, visit you once and in a while and careful not to mention you.

and his royal highness, the duke of eden, park seonghwa sits inside his office. his second home, files piled up to his neck but none of them seem important to him.

his eyes are stuck at the door, waiting for the maid to walk in and put him at ease. by of course, telling him about you.

he’s keeping track of time, eyes flickering from the clock to the door. he finds himself being more and more impatient, tapping his feet under his table repeatedly.

“where is she,” he says, having waited too long he stands up and leaves his office to go and find the maid himself.

when he doesn’t find her, he asks another one who had just walked out a room. she hastily bowed down but he dismissed it all, “where is y/n?” he watches her eyes grow wide.

“you highness, you’ve told us not to talk about her.”

“you see, i’m- just tell me how she is,” he says, and she slowly lifts her head up.

“the duchess, she’s not in the palace.”

“what?”

“she hasn’t been in then palace for days now, i believe today is the third day.”

his eyes widen, “where is she?”

“that i do not know, your highness.” and with that she walks away, leaving a wide eyed seonghwa panicking in the hallway.

he stops for second, the skin between his eyebrows touches before moving back. he runs a hand through his black hair, eyes wandering left and right.

when it finally clicks in his mind that you’re gone, his face drops in disbelief. he walks down the hallway to your room, wanting to see it for himself and tell himself that you were in the palace.

but when he opens the door his shoulders immediately slump, he walks inside. clenching his jaw as your scent hits his nose, a wave of worry washes over him when he doesn’t see you anymore, not in the room or the bathroom.

instead, it’s empty, his breathing wavers and his voice calls for you. but no one responds, he then walks out, his footsteps turn into him sprinting down the halls, searching every single room in the big palace. he can’t find you anywhere.

he finally turned left and burst open the door, breathing heavily his eyes falling over the guys sparing him a glance before continuing their work.

“where’s y/n?” he breaths out, walking in and slamming his hands on the table.

wooyoung looks up, “what do you want?”

seonghwa bites his lips, ticking his eyebrow at the nonchalant attitude of wooyoung. “where’s y/n, and what’s with that attitude?”

hongjoong drops his files with a bang and glares up at the man, “what’s with your attitude? and why do you even care, you didn’t want to see her face two seconds ago, now what happened?”

“ah, did your brains finally fall back in place?” wooyoung brings his hands behind his head, leaning back on the chair while eyeing seonghwa up and down.

“just tell me where she is,” seonghwa spits out, “why isn’t she in her room?”

“ask yourself that, why isn’t she here? how big of an idiot are you?”

“a big one,” mingi adds.

“she’s not here, and for the better.” san speaks from the back and seonghwa scoffs.

“and what would you know is the better for her?” he retorts.

“she knows what’s better for her, none of you need to decide it. and for your information she’s at her parent’s house,” hongjoong pauses, “because she couldn’t deal with the atmosphere you created.”

seonghwa runs out, ignoring whatever hongjoong mused at him. in his mind, he had to see you and so he walked to the stables and rode a horse to the town, where you were.

“have you already thought of a name?” you glance shortly at your mother, who cupped her face in her hands, eyes blinking, wide and bright.

“no,” you respond, focusing on the mandarin you were peeling before tossing it in your mouth.

you heard her sigh, and she holds your hand. “y/n, what’s going on,” her warm voice asked, and you shook your head.

“nothing,” you ate another piece and then your mother smacks your hand lightly.

“i know something is!” she exclaims, “you and seonghwa fought, didn’t you?”

“we did,” you confess, and she shoots you a look. “i don’t wanna talk about it.” with that you get up and walk away, ignoring the calls of your name.

you find purchase in sitting on the swinging couch in the small garden your family had, throwing your head back and looking off into nothing. your white dress hung off the swing, arms resting on the armrest.

your mother watches you and elicits a sigh, her body leans on the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest as she watches you with a bitter smile.

when sunset falls around, you’re holding onto a sword. swinging it with one hand while your dad prepares the grill in the back, trying not to burn down the house.

when you sit down to eat, you’ve forgotten about everything. sitting and just eating whatever was on the table, with a content smile you eat doubles of everything.

once it’s over and you’re walking over to your room, your mother pulls you into the kitchen randomly. your wide eyes scan her, and she holds a box of strawberries, nudging it at you.

“oh, thank you,” you grab the box from her, “how’d you know i’ve been craving these.”

your mother smiles knowingly, watching you pop one in your mouth with a grin.

“seonghwa dropped by,” you slowly look up, swallowing.

“okay,” you squeak out, eyes flickering to wall behind.

she then leans back, “he brought the strawberries,” you paused, “he said you would be craving them.”

with a frustrated sigh you put the box on the counter, your mother leaves the room, and you glance at the strawberry you held in your hand.

the only person who knew you were wanting these were san, who you sent at the ungodly hours of night to the market. considering that, seonghwa would have no idea about this unless san told him, which was unlikely, or seonghwa watched over you.

you run to grab your jacket and leave your house to walk to the palace. frowning at the audacity of this man, who can’t seem to talk to you up front and instead becomes a coward.

you march inside the property, dismissing the stares you were getting because first, you’re in the palace, second, you’re marching in furiously and third because you’re not exactly wearing the clothes seeing the weather.

you knew seonghwa wouldn’t be in his new room, so your best option was to barge in his office. and that’s exactly where he was, standing and glancing out the windows.

“park seonghwa,” you burst in through the door, eyes falling on his tall figure dressed in black, leaning on the window frame.

he glances over his shoulder before looking out the window, his eyes are shut and his fingers grip the frame.

“what are you doing?” you say, “hm? sending those stupid strawberries instead of actually coming to talk to me?”

your clench your jaw at the lack of his response, “why do you suddenly seem to care now when you haven’t spared me a glance in the last two weeks!”

you exhale harshly and walk up to him, grabbing his arm and turning him around. his face shows no emotion, and you push his shoulder, “why! why aren’t you saying something?”

“what do you want me to say?” he responds and you bite the insides of your cheek, hearing his voice after so long, it still shoots butterflies in your stomach.

you stare at him in disbelief, “hwa,” you whined. “what’s wrong with you, i’ve apologized so many times and yet you never say anything!”

you continue, “i know you send those meals by the hands of the maids,” your eyes tear up. “i know you see me around the palace but choose to ignore me, i know you walk by our room every night so that you know i’m inside, i kno-“

“god damn it! do you even know why i went to the war?” you yell, eyes flickering between him and the floor.

“to protect you, you don’t know this but a day before the war.” you pause, contemplating if you really want to say this.

the night before the war, yeosang burst through your office doors, yanking your arm and dragging you to his office without even getting the chance to say hi.

“yeosang, w-what’s going on?” you ask the man holding your wrist, stepping in his room only to see a patient bandaged over his legs, arms and head.

you glance at yeosang in confusion, asking him to explain why exactly he brought you here especially when there’s someone he’s tending to.

before yeosang gets the chance respond, the man in front immediately stands up, hissing and then bowing.

“gener- your highness,” his low and gritty voice goes onto introduce himself, “i can’t reveal my name, but i have to tell you something.”

you exchange glances with yeosang who nods, ushering you to a chair, and he comes to stand behind you.

“what happened to you?” you ask out of worry, eyeing the white bandages over him.

“dorado,” the man says, “dorado is after you.”

you tilt your head, “dorado, the one we all helped?” he nods turning to yeosang.

“they’re the one who will be attacking you, they’ll be planning for night, perhaps in the castle as well.”

he stops, “but your highness, they’re also planning to kill off eden’s heir.”

yeosang watches the man, stunned. “seonghwa? the duke?” and the man nods.

you and yeosang exchange glances before looking at the man in unison. “explain everything to us in detail.”

“a messenger had come to the palace telling me and yeosang, that they were after you! the enemies were going to kill you park seonghwa!” you cry out loud, “and you want me to sit back and watch my husband die when i knew what was going to happen?”

“but no! of course you wouldn’t listen,” you breathe out loud and shaky, “did you want our child to grow without their dad?”

your eyes drop to his hands, the ones he’s gripping the windowsill with. “do you think that i, i would let you die?”

“for the love of god, seonghwa say something!”

tears roll down the apples of your cheeks, the wind coming from the window stinging as the man standing in front of you turns his back. looking out the window in silence, pretending as if there is no one in the room screaming at him.

your shoulders slump down, a hand taking through your hair you shut your eyes in frustration as tears rolled down.

all you could feel was emptiness, frustration, anger and pain.

“the day you quit being a general, is the day everything will go back to normal.” you hear his voice cut through the silence.

you stare wide eyed at the man, mouth parting to form out words but you’re so shocked at what he goes on about that nothing comes out.

“seonghwa,” you grit out, “how dare you.” you spit out with such a tone that it has shivers running up his body.

“how dare you ask me to quit something i have spent my entire life working for.” you stare at him with such disgust and anger that you lift your hands up by your head.

“what you do,” he says, “only brings problems, and going to a war?” he says with a scoff and you shoot him a glare.

“i’ve spent my entire life to protect you, your parents and your home.” you take a step forward, “you,” you point at him, “you wouldn’t even have been alive if not for me, you have no right to tell me what to do, you’ve lost it all.”

you hastily grab your wedding ring, the one he gave to you with such adoration and love. but now it burned into your skin, just like the way his words cut you.

“i’m selfish,” you repeat the words he told you, “i’m horrible, park seonghwa i will show you how selfish and horrible i can be.”

clenching your jaw, you slipped off the wedding ring, griping it in your hands tightly because it hurt, it hurt letting everything go.

“go find yourself a princess, who’ll bear your children and make you happy by not going to a fucking war.”

you slam down the jewelry on his table with such force that you’re sure it will create a mark, he jumps at the sound but never looks back.

you stare at his back for a few beats of silence, “i’ll leave.” you wipe the tears rolling off your cheeks.

“but hear this,” you pause, fists shaking and eyes staring at the shiny ring on the table.

“don’t you ever come looking for me, do you want a divorce? send me the paperwork and i’ll sign it, and then i’ll leave.” you pause to inhale, “i’m sorry to you, and to my baby for putting you two in danger.”

seonghwa spins his head, so fast, eyes wide. “my? ‘my baby’ so i’m nothing, it’s not ours?”

“nothing.” you grit out, “never have, never will.”

“i’ll send a letter when the child’s born, until then, don’t you ever come to me, you had the chance to fix this.” you point your finger at him, “we could’ve fixed this right here, but now, don’t come begging for my forgiveness.”

you turn on your heel and with one last glance over your shoulder. “because i won’t forgive you, this comes from general y/n.”

“goodbye, your highness.”

“yeosang, just go back.”

you stared at the blond, a rag in his hands as he runs everywhere to clean the surroundings.

“t-that won’t happen y/n,” he turns around, leaning his elbow on the table behind. “that’s between you and seonghwa, i’m here as not only a friend but your doctor.”

you lean back on the cushioned chair, “you don’t have to come over every day, i’m fine here alone, really.”

yeosang lets out a sigh, folding the rag and walking forward to sit opposite you. “y/n, i will come over any day i can, the other’s will too, until seonghwa-“

“just don’t,” you stop him, “i don’t want to hear anything from him.”

“y/n.” he gives you a look.

“yeosang.” which you return, pressing your lips together.

he eventually lets out a sigh and then lifts his hands by his side, “you win, whatever.” you grin, grabbing a cushion to throw it at the man, who successfully dodges.

“how long are you planning to stay here?” he quips, blowing the nonexistent dirt of the cushion before ticking an eyebrow at you.

“i...really don’t know,” you shrug, “maybe i just won’t ever return?”

“no, no, you can’t do that!” he immediately interjects. “y/n, you have to understand that as much of an asshole your husband is, you can’t top the asshole level.”

you snort out loud, shaking your head. “is asshole even the right word yeo? he’s left me first, and now i’ve left him.”

“what’s the difference?” you quickly add, finding a particular interest to the carpet.

“you’re still wearing his ring,” he points out and your eyes fly to the black band. “you’re living here as if he won’t find out where y-“

“you won’t tell him nothing,” you add, “neither will you or the guys open your loud mouths in front of that man.”

he shoots his eyebrows to his forehead, an amused smile on his face. “that man,” he mocks, bobbing his head to the side.

you two stay quiet for a few seconds until he speaks once again, “will...will you ever go back to him?”

you chose to stay still, sucking on the insides of your cheek. eyes everywhere except the blond’s who sighs in defeat.

“i’ll ask the workers to send in food supplies every week, i’ll be visiting weekly for your check up and don’t you dare do something stupid when i’m not here.”

you let out a genuine smile, “thank you, yeosang, really.”

he shakes his head with a shy smile, “just don’t die on us, and especially on seonghwa.”

“y/n.”

“hongjoong, i’m not going to go and see him.”

“he’s been asking for you— well to me, more subtly, but you know what i mean.” he grunts, pouring a cup of chamomile tea in the fine china.

ever since the day you left the palace of eden, you found home, not at your parents but the villa seonghwa had owned. the balmoral villa, the one by the seashore, the one you two talked about and the one where you wanted to raise your children in.

it had a rustic feel from the outside, but the inside was modern royalty. when you first entered at night, a large portrait of you and seonghwa hung over the fireplace, on the tall walls welcomed you.

it looked so intimidating at night, but when the moonlight shines through the large windows, it looked ethereal. a picture of you sitting and seonghwa standing behind you framed in gold.

you stared at it for a few minutes before eventually leaving, walking around the small villa, to see every nook of it.

but your favourite was the master bed, where a balcony connected to the outside. a view of the sea, with mountains caving in to make it seem private. you saw the silent horizon that day, so dark and brooding but so calming.

you’ve stayed here for around a week now, and your favourite thing was to stay awake until the late hours of the night. a warm cup of tea in hand, a mahogany fleece blanket wrapped around you and your eyes stuck on the single lighthouse in the distance.

a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, lonely, just like you.

“i couldn’t care less hongjoong, let him ask for me, keep telling him lies.” you sip on the hot tea, shuddering a little.

“but we can’t keep doing that,” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“and what he did to me was right?” you interject, “hongjoong, imagine your husband blatantly ignoring you throughout one the hardest points in pregnancy.”

“and then, sending a stupid box of strawberries as a what? compensation? and when he could’ve fixed things, he tells me to quit being a general.”

“he cares for you y/n.”

you shake your head, “does he? he cares for our baby, i don’t matter hongjoong.”

“and as much as i know me, i wouldn’t dare hurt my child like that. if i don’t matter to him, what’s the point in going back?”

the man in front stays quiet, silently agreeing to whatever you were saying because you were right. his friend had just lost a piece of his mind that he can’t seem to get back right now, your anger is valid.

hongjoong winces at the fact that seonghwa seemed to forget, that the mother comes first, if there is no mother, then there is no child.

you, have endured almost everything. hongjoong glances at you, remembering what you’ve been through not only from the military but even now and yet you set out with a smile.

“if he’ll come back to his senses,” you shrug, “would you forgive him?”

you let out a tired sign, glancing at the man who stared at you. “i don’t know hongjoong, all i know is i don’t want to see him.”

he nods, bringing the cup to his lips. “how’s your health, you know, the kid.”

he watches your face brighten, a hand immediately resting on your stomach. “there’s a little bit of a bump forming, it’s cute.”

he grins against the cup whispering a, “he would’ve been over the moon,” before lifting his eyes to you, “i think the child’s a girl.”

“really?” you ask, wide eyed. “well, whoever the child is, as long as they stay healthy it doesn’t bother me.”

he smiles one again, slowly standing up. instructing you to take your meds, cook food and make sure to eat and lock all the doors and only then fall asleep.

you nod to every single one of them, grabbing his shoulders before literally pushing him outside because the man wouldn’t shut up.

once he leaves, you lock the big doors and press your back against them. sighing as your eye’s glances around the entrance lobby, your thoughts twisted to seonghwa.

“idiot,” you mutter, lowly but it echoes the room. craning your neck down, your eyes landed on your stomach. “your dad’s a big idiot, you know? i hope you don’t go on him.”

“seonghwa.”

“yes,” he stares, “father.”

the older man folds his hands on his knees, “where is y/n?”

seonghwa blinks, flickering his eyes from his fathers to the wall behind. “s-uh, i think she’s at her parents.”

“you think?” he tilts his head when his son doesn’t respond and instead chooses to keep his head down.

“seonghwa,” he starts, “i haven’t seen her around for a few weeks now.” the statement comes off more as threat, as if interrogating the man, eyeing his son with a stern face.

“and you don’t know where she is?”

when seonghwa does decide to open his mouth, his father beats him too it. “fath-“

“you imbecile, she’s your wife! she’s pregnant and carrying your child!”

he flinches at the sudden raise in volume, “but father, she’s-“

“no, i’m not going to hear anything from you.” he interrupts him, “go find her, if something happens to her. park seonghwa you best believe you’re dead.”

seonghwa swallows once his father leaves the room, bringing his head in his hands. shutting his eyes for a brief second only to be fly them open when hongjoong walks in.

“seonghwa what are you doing?” he barges in angrily, taking a seat in front of him. “what big of an idiot are you!”

“hongjoong, if you’re here to lecture me about y/n,” he starts, “then leave.”

hongjoong narrows his eyes at him, “do you know she’s not at her parent’s house?”

“w-what,” he cracks, “then where is she? she was at her parent-“

“was,” hongjoong interrupts, “what is going on with you seonghwa?”

“since when did you,” he raises his fingers to point at the man, “become like this?”

“lo-“

“no, you listen.” he puts a hand up, “seonghwa, you and y/n are married.”

“you’ve, okay, not liked each other at first but somewhere along the line you two have fallen for each other without realizing and it only got deeper!”

seonghwa sits quietly, “you love her, i know you do. everyone knows you do, and even y/n does, so why the hell are you doing this? isn’t it only bringing pain?”

hongjoong watches the man’s face twist into different emotions before continuing again, “seonghwa, grow up. you two have been married for almost two and a half years, and just a war broke it all?”

“the war, if she got hurt then what?” seonghwa finally speaks, “what would i have done without her? what would i have done without our child?”

“it’s her job! be it she’s pregnant or not, she knows better, she knows what protective measures she’s got to take just to protect the small life she’s got inside of her, she’s not a general for nothing!”

“you’re not making anything easy either, you’re forgetting that you love her!” hongjoong lifts his voice, “your mind is stuck on the baby and it’s health! but did it ever cross you how you’ve been forgetting y/n?”

“did you care about y/n getting hurt or only the kid? you yelled and screamed at her for taking your child to the war when all she wanted was to protect the father of her child!”

“did you forget that, the mother comes first?” he lowers his voice, stern yet powerful. “you doing this will ruin your already strained relationship with y/n, and it will affect her health.”

when seonghwa stares at him with his mouth parted, hongjoong stands up and jabs his pointer finger in his chest.

“do you realize what you’ve done seonghwa?”

“fuck,” seonghwa whispers, “oh god.”

“you told her to quit something she’s been doing longer than she’s been married to you,” he grits out.

“i-i did,”

“you yelled at her for getting injured, you didn’t care, you only cared for the child.”

“i did, o-oh my god.”

“you ignored her during when she needed you the most, did you know she cried, she cried because of you?”

“then what am i supposed to do!” seonghwa lets out, breathing heavily. “she came to me the other week and all i did was nothing, i stood while she cried for me to fix things.”

“but you only made it worse.”

“but i only made it worse.”

“hongjoong,” he swallows, eyes getting watery. “what do i do? i don’t deserve her, she won’t come back, s-she’s gone i won’t ever see her hongjoong. what do i do, what have i done— hong-“

hongjoong brings his hands over the taller man’s shoulders. “quiet down.”

“no, no i can’t do that.” he shakes his head, “if she’s not at her parent’s house, then you.” he grips hongjoong’s hands, “you know where she is.”

“please tell me where she is, please.”

he sighs, “seonghwa, only you know where she is.”

“i-i don’t, i really don-“

“what was her favourite place?”

“just te-“

“think seonghwa, think.”

“i can’t, i just want to see her already!”

“where did she want to spend the rest of her life with you?”

seonghwa pauses, “by the sea.” and it finally hits him like a truck. “fuck, she’s at balmoral!”

and immediately a bright grin covers his crying face, “she’s at balmoral, the villa she wanted to raise our kids at!” he brings a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as he feels the final tears drop down.

“what are you waiting for then, go on.”

the excitement in him swirls, wiping his eyes he pulls the shorter man in a hug. “hongjoong you’re the best, thank you, i lov-“

“get out.”

“i’ll drop by with groceries in a few hours, stay inside the weathers not good!”

“yes, yeosang now go!” you pushed the laughing man outside, waving your hand as he walks to the car with a smile.

you skipped on your toes lightly, humming as you make your way inside. hearing the rapid pitter patter of your dog running to you, nuzzling his face in your leg as you walked.

you plop yourself on the couch, placing your arms on the armrest and your doberman comes to lay by your feet. switching on a movie while a scented candle’s scent made it’s way around the room, a calming scent of warm vanilla.

eerily similar to seonghwa’s, you sighed at that. unconsciously your eyes land on your stomach, caressing it lightly.

you find yourself not focusing on the movie but on the man you married, your eyes then shift to the entrance lobby. you’d do this every day, maybe a small hope burning inside you said that the said man would walk in.

bring you in his arms, place a chaste kiss on your lips— but that’s where you’d stop thinking. clenching your jaw at the thought of him, you’re mad at him, furious even.

but you still want to see him, yet you don’t know how you’ll react once you do. your eyes then shift to the portrait of you two, at the happiest you two were at.

big smiles decorating your face, so warm and happy and inviting unlike now.

a tired sigh leaves your mouth, slowly getting up to walk down to the sea but halt once your eyes land on the window. shifting the curtain to the side, fat water droplets hit the glass from the heavy rain.

the blue ocean now darker like the sky, moving slowly but scarily. just as you’re about to turn around, the sound of the doorbell ringing stops you and a smile graces your lips.

“yeosang, i’m in the living area!” you yell, quickly tidying up the couch. “come on inside!”

you dog immediately gets on his feet, scurrying away to bark at the door. but he won’t, he knows it’s yeosang.

“yeosang! come in!” you say again, this time with furrowed eyebrows and a hesitant walk to the door.

the doorbell rings once again, “you have the keys yeo,” you mutter lowly, unlocking the door and just as you open the door, the ground from underneath you feels as if it’s slipping.

“y/n.”

you take a step back, hands falling to your side and your eyes fall upon the man you hadn’t seen in weeks.

you’re just staring at him; he takes a step towards you, and you back up. a feeling of panic swirls in your chest, not because you didn’t want to see him but because you didn’t think it would be so soon.

“y-your highness.”

there’s no reaction on your face, but his eyes are wide and glossy as if he just had cried, or from the rain pouring down his face. his lips twitch at the corners but falter down.

“i’m sorry.”

you feel as if your heart is about to burst out because of how fast it’s beating, a warm lump forming your throat that’s so hard to swallow down. his dark hair shadow over his eyes, shinning under the night light just outside.

he’s standing in a black shirt that’s now clung onto him, and you know it’s a very wrong time, but you can’t help but stare at him up and down.

“why are you here?” your voice comes out on tone that’s barely above a whisper, fingers gripping your dress.

“y/n please, just give me chance,” he pleads, and you hear the desperation in his voice.

you step backwards when he tries to hold onto your hand, back enough that he’s standing inside now. the water from outside following inside, and your eyes stare into his.

“please, please y/n i’m so sorry.”

“you need to go away, you’re not supposed to be here.” you manage to say out loud but it doesn’t affect him the slightest.

“y/n,” his low voice rings the hall, “i’m terrible, i know. but please don’t let go, i’m an idiot that didn’t hear you or fix things when you were there.”

“i ignored you when you were in pain and i only made it worse, i made it so easy for you to hate me y/n.”

“the weathers not great, go back please.”

he shakes his head, finally taking a stride towards you and you stay still. his tall self hovers over you and you shut your eyes, inhaling his scent that you thought you’d never smell again.

“please y/n,” he clasps onto your hand, his cold fingers holding into your warmer hand.

“please what?” you say, “y-you’ve done nothing but hurt me, when i went to the war for you, all for you.”

“i didn’t want you to die...i never did,” you look away, “i knew you’d be mad but not the point where you didn’t even look at me.”

“did you know how much it hurt?” lowering your eyes as if it would hide the tears pooling in. “you said you’d be by my side, that we would raise our kids together.”

you let out a humourless laugh, “but it’s as if that never existed,” you finally look at him, who’s staring at you intently and you swallow.

“did you even want to be-“

“i wanted to be there for all of it,” he cuts you, eyes flickering with a dark glint that displayed pain. “i wanted to be there for it all y/n, but i was selfish.”

you don’t realize that your lips are trembling, holding onto your emotions from pouring out. yes, you two had an argument but that doesn’t stop how you feel about him—

“i love you.”

“stop it.” you barely manage to whisper out, that three worded sentence making your insides swoop, shuddering as the cold wind made its way inside.

he shakes his head and you see the tears roll down his cheeks, “i’m sorry y/n, i don’t deserve you, i will never des-“

“please just shut up.”

“i put you and our child in dang-“

“why do you say you put me and our baby in danger?” he says between his sobs, “when you were the one in danger? hm? does your life not matter? your life is the most precious thing to me, are you insane? why do you hurt yourself like this?”

he then kneels on his knees and your eyes widen, only for the water collected in your eyes to fall. you’re standing and he kneels by your feet, head thrown down as both your emotions match.

he keeps shaking his head, lips letting choked sobs as his shoulders shake. “y/n, please, i’m so sorry, i- please just come back, please.” he begs between sniffles.

you shake your head slowly, biting down on your lips. “n-no, not right now.”

he holds onto your hand and brings it to his lips, you try to jerk it back but he lifts his head up. his red and swollen and puffy, nose red and lips parted.

he manages to smile a little, he glances at the band resting on your fingers. you bring your hand back, “you need to leave, just go away.”

“i’m an idiot, please don’t stay away from me-“ he pauses midway, eyeing your tear filled eyes and then on the small bump of your stomach.

and it only breaks him down more, a shaky hand coming to cup his mouth. eyes flickering from yours to the little bump you have, salty tears prickle down his eyes.

“i-is that...” he hiccups, “ours?”

you swallow hard and it only makes everything worse because you yourself choke out a sob. he watches through wonder and tears, knowing that inside was what you and he created.

he wipes the tears by back his hand, timidly bringing a hand to your stomach but before it does, you take a step back.

“y/n, please.”

“your highness, it’s raining out heavily, please go back to eden before the storm worsens.” lifting your head to look out the door, seeing a car in the car distance, presumably the one he used to come here.

“no,” he pauses, “not without you, and not without our little one.”

“you should’ve thought about that months ago, your highness.” you turn around, and he watches you walk away from him with desperate eyes.

“stop talking like that to me,” he says between sniffles, “since when did you go back to be-“

“a general?” you turn your head to the side, “the second you told me to call you ‘your highness’.”

“leave,” you say, turning your head to the side because you couldn’t look at him. “when our child’s born, i’ll handwrite you a letter to let you know.”

“now please,” you pause, “leave your highness.”

“y/n please, just p-“

“leave.” you say out tiredly, holding onto the couch to support your weight. “go away, seonghwa.”

his eyes widen at your words, using his name brought a certain amount of weight onto him, closing his eyes for a brief second, he stands up, wobbly.

“y/-“

you turn around so fast that in seconds you’re pushing him out the door, ignoring his begging, pleadings, and desperate calls for your name.

you slam the door shut, closing your eyes, and lulling your back. you hear him scream and wail your name repeatedly, but you clench your jaw, closed your eyes and pressed your back against the door.

the two men outside, yunho and mingi watch their duke kneel on his knees. one hand on the door as he calls out your name, they wipe their own tears before walking to seonghwa, holding onto two black umbrellas.

building a shield over the man, the two exchange a look. yunho decides to hold onto seonghwa’s shoulder.

“just give her some time seonghwa,” mingi says, flinching at the sudden thunderstorm.

yunho shakes his head, “i’m sorry, but you had a chance, you let it go too quick.”

both the boys pull seonghwa away from the doorstep, his head hung low as hot tears streamed down his face. he doesn’t bother fighting them and lets them drag him back to the car.

sparing your window one last glance, hoping that you would be standing there. watching him leave, but you didn’t. you couldn’t look at him in the eye.

you sat down on your desk, the one in the small office. where a large window pooled in sunlight, the desk you say at now covered with coloured papers and stickers and pictures.

a scrapbook, what yeosang said would be a good thing to pass time instead of sparring swords alone or walking your dog down the small town.

the book was rather small, but it did the job. you’ve been writing your experiences with the baby in it, from when you were too sick or intense cravings at five in the morning or when there was excessive back pain.

you were now a little over four months, you had jotted all the entry’s down, pairing it up with stickers and felt pen designs. you’d always end the entry with the date and time, so that maybe in future you could look back at it.

but when you would swivel your chair around, your eyes would land upon the new set of roses sitting on the far desk. everyday you’d get something by your door or by the hands of yeosang.

“here you go,” he’d chuck it at you when walking by, and you knew it was seonghwa sending all these.

so, you would send them back politely through yeosang’s hands, who would glare at you for making him run back and forth.

“oh my god y/n, this is the third time you’ve asked me to send these back to your lover boy!”

“and you will!” you grin, “thank you!”

he sighs and grabs the roses from you, “i’m not going to be stalling this for long, one day i might just do something that you wouldn’t have excepted.”

“sure, sure.”

maybe you should’ve listened to him, because the scrapbook you made documenting your pregnancy had been sent off into the hands of seonghwa.

“you what!” you said, wide eyed.

yeosang shrugged, “i told you, you two need to sort it out.”

you’d throw a finger in the air for him, and he’d laugh mockingly, before one day the doorbell had rang and a person stood on the other side, holding a giant bouquet yellow flowers in front of their face.

“excuse me?”

and then the flowers were shoved down a little revealing, “you?”

seonghwa, of course, standing there with a big grin on his face.

“hi,” he says and then walk past you inside, “the house is still in good condition, how was everything?”

“why are you here?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

he grins, takes a small step, and crosses his arms over his chest. “well, my wife lives here and she’s pregnant and i’m here to take care of her.”

you let out a scoff, “oh yeah? i think you’ve got the wrong house.”

“oh, i’m sure i’ve got the right one.” he smiles, coming closer to you and then snaking a hand around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“y/n,” his low voice mumbles, “i’ll be staying here with you, whether you like it or not.”

you crane your neck up to meet his eyes, and when you did, he smiles brightly and then pecks your nose quickly and then he’s off of you.

turning around, placing his hands on his waist, and nodding at every room. while you stood in the middle with wide eyes, and a cozy feeling in your stomach.

seonghwa watches you brush past him, and he smiles. looking around before settling his eyes on the large portrait, his eyes turn into crescents when he stares at it.

thanking yeosang for mailing him the scrapbook, he remembers it being chucked at his face and before he could get the chance to yell, the blond man had already walked out.

he hesitantly flipped through the entire book, eyes widening when he realizes that is your handwriting and you’re documenting the pregnancy. he finds it hard not to tear up, making sure to read everything written on. and from that’s where he would send you flowers every day, as it said that you liked smelling them this time around. or sending prepped meals, baby clothes, clothes for you and more.

he’s decided that you may not forgive him easily, he’ll still be by your side, to fill in the hole he left when he wasn’t there.

so he makes sure to wake up before you every day, cooking your breakfast, lunch and dinner. doing the cleaning, laundry and looking over you from afar when you would go out a walk.

the only thing missing was, well, your voice.

because you didn’t say a single word to him for the days, he’s been doing this, nonchalantly walking past him or pretending he isn’t even in the villa.

you’d quietly eat the food being made for you, although not saying anything verbally, he already knows what you would say.

sometimes he’d get lucky hearing you talk, precisely when he had started to sleep on the couch because he wanted to give you your outmost privacy.

“your highness,” he grins ear to ear, “this isn’t necessary, go back to your duties in eden.”

“my duty is you, y/n.” he says with a slight tilt of his head, catching the slight widening of your eyes.

“it is-“

“no, never, don’t say a word.” he comes to stand right in front of you, “i’m never leaving you out of my sight again, i’ll stay here with you not caring if you hate me or not.”

your stomach would flip at the words and sometimes you think it’s the baby reacting to their fathers’ words.

“your-“

“seonghwa,” he interrupts, “but hwa could work too.” he shrugs his shoulders with a pout.

with a wink he would walk past you, doing something in the house and you’d groan before locking yourself in your bedroom once again.

but recently you’ve been leaving your door slightly ajar, or well seonghwa had told you too, forcibly. knowing that if you would be in some type of pain, he wouldn’t have to break the door down and would rather just barge in.

you silently agreed because the night prior you had a slight pain shooting from your stomach, not that serious, but bad enough for you to slip out a few low groans.

so, you didn’t expect to be up at four in the morning, turning on the bed constantly before sitting up tight and immediately feeling an immense amount of pain shoot through you.

you figured it was the surprise movement or the contractions, or whatever because you really couldn’t think right now. your brain screamed at you to get up, but all you could do was groan loudly.

you shift in an effort to make it better, but it only makes it worse, and it’s as if your grunts were so loud you heard rapid footsteps running down the hallway.

“y/n!”

you bite down on your lips, clutching the sheets as the pain doubled. squeezing your eyes shut on impulse but they shoot open just as the door breaks open.

there stood a heavily breathing seonghwa, eyes widened, and mouth parted. he yelled your name once again, this time coming by you.

he cringes at your pain and panics, eyes frantically searching your face before he helps you sit up.

“it’s o-okay,” his shaky hands brush your hair away, “stay still i’ll be right back!”

“the medicine is top left drawer!” you manage to yell, falling back on the bed while one hand rested on your forehead.

“hurry up!” you yell, grunting and groaning until seonghwa zooms in right beside you.

he slowly helps you sit up, holding your hand tightly as he kept mumbling sweet nothings. he hands you the medicine and you gulp it down, he holds onto you firmly, brushing away the strands of hair.

you hold onto his shoulders, trying not to let out a scream of pain. he welcomes the tight grip you have on him and places a hand behind your head, lowering it to his shoulder.

his other hand softly rubs your back as you squeeze your eyes shut, “i-it hurts,”

he hums, swallowing and then tucking your face in his neck. “you’re alright baby, you’re okay, you’re with me.” he mumbles against your ear and you tighten your hold onto him.

“get away from me,” you grit out, “go get yeosang.”

he immediately nods, not wanting to leave pull away from the embrace. “o-of course, i’m sorry. do you need anything else? anything at all?”

you shake your head, “get the doctor, get yeosang and get away from me.”

“but you’re hurting,” his quips, voice full of uncertainty. “i’m not going to leave y/n.”

“j-just go.” you push his chest away, curling your fingers around your dress instead.

he nods shakily, “alright, i’ll go get yeosang, if you need any-“

“just go!”

your loud yell makes him flinch and sighs softly, letting go of your body knowing he’s the one to blame of this situation. he stands up, looks over at you in worry before walking out the door.

“alright y/n, i’ll go get him.”

you fall back immediately, wanting for it all to stop. curling up in a fetal position you hold onto the pillow until yeosang comes, seonghwa watches you from the door.

one hand holding the phone to his ear while his eyes flickered glints of pain, he hears every instruction the man says. biting down on his lips, he watches your expression morph into relief, and he thinks the pains over.

he watches you fall asleep, walking in quietly and then lifting the blanket up till your shoulders. bunching up your hair, out of your face.

his knuckles brush lightly against your cheek, and he shudders, “i’m sorry,” he whispers “please forgive me.” and then lowers his face, pecking your cheek for a brief second and then places a pillow by your back.

he finds himself sitting outside your room, the door to your room slightly open. he thinks in case of another situation like this, he’ll be able to get inside quicker to rush to your aid.

he backs himself to the wall right by the door, straightening his legs and then closing his eyes until morning hits.

when you wake up the next day, your eyes hastily glance at the clock. cursing lowly at how late you’ve woken up, groaning and then getting up to freshen yourself up.

when you walk out, you pause when your eyes fall upon seonghwa sitting on the floor, sleeping.

you clear your throat, “your highness, hey.” you tap your feet on the wood twice. when he doesn’t move, you bite the insides of your cheek and then glance left and right.

slowly lowering yourself to his eye-level, your eyes fall over his face. cheeks swished against his shoulder, hair over his eyes and his lips all pink and pouty.

you find yourself smiling, lifting your hand out and brushing his hair to the side. doing so only made butterflies erupt inside you, caressing his forehead lightly you feel tears trickle in your eyes.

“why do you do this hwa?” you whisper to yourself, “you’re a big idiot you know, i hope our kid doesn’t go on you.”

you poke his cheek, “you made me cry a lot you know?” and then poke his pillowy lips.

“i should hate you,” you whisper, “i do, don’t get me wrong.”

you sniffle a little and then dare to bring your face close to his, quickly wanting to place a peck on his forehead and then leave and then pretend a different nothing had happened.

when you inch closer, his eyes shoot open and he grabs you by the waist, making you fall onto his lap.

your eyes widen, “h-hey! seo- your highness, this is inappropriate!”

he grips your waist, “and what you did wasn’t?” you stare into his eyes and then look away.

“this is how we’re supposed to be y/n,” he says softly, “i love you, i still love you with every fiber in body. i’ll have it engraved to my tombstone, so even death can’t do us apart.”

he inches closer, lips grazing your neck. “so, miss general, please let me back in.”

you stay quiet, looking off into the hallway before shoving his hands away. “go sit at the table, i’ll make the breakfast this time.”

and that’s when he smiles big, squealing and then tucking his face in your neck. giving you a tight hug before letting you go; you hear his excited giggles while you walk away with a small smile.

“whose shirt is that?” the minute you walk out the shower seonghwa questions you.

sitting on the couch, a book in hand and legs crossed. he watches you walk out, in a white shirt, wet hair and his black ring that brought a smile on his lips.

“where’s yeosang?” you ask, grabbing a glass of water and bringing it up to your lips.

“that’s his shirt?!” he yells, eyes widening he stands up.

you throw him a glance, “i said where’s yeosang?”

“who’s fucking shirt is that?” he smirks, coming up behind you till he’s front is pressed against your back.

“it’s mine, what’s your deal.” you hear him let out a low hum, snaking a hand around your waist. his eyes fall on the collar, and he ticks ups an eyebrow.

and then smiled shyly, resting his chin on your shoulder he brings both his arms around you, intertwining his hands at your front.

“you could’ve told me if you wanted more of my shirts,” he mumbles, “this ones kind of boring hm?”

you grip the glass tightly at that, flickering your eyes from the table to the ground. and then you feel him press against your back, making you shiver.

he kisses your neck and softly taps your stomach, “i’ll be home later, okay?” you inhale sharply the minute you feel his warmth leave and then groan.

when he comes back, the house is quiet. grinning to himself he walks to change in his night clothes, and then jumps onto the couch.

he lets out a sigh of relief, knowing he clocked the doors and you’re fast asleep, and the progress between your relationship is working to a good end.

he brings his hands behind his head and leans back, leaning into the couch as he shut his eyes.  

and it’s as if ten minutes later, his eyes shoot open when he hears a call for his name. he shakes his head and looks around, when he doesn’t hear anything, he pulls the blanket above his head.

but then just two minutes later, he hears a louder cry for his name. this time he yanks the blanket down, panic swirling in his chest once he hears a louder groan.

he stands up, glancing at the clock, frowning at the later hours of might. he quietly walks himself down the hallway to your room, eyes widening when he hears the voices coming from your room.

he steps closer and brings his ear against the door, eyes widening when he hears your low moans for his name. his hand rests in the doorknob and just as he’s about to twist it, he pauses when he hears a breathy call of his name.

his eyebrows furrow, “y/n?” he calls out in worry.

you pause, biting your lip when you hear his voice. you glance down at your fingers against your folds and then to the door, “d-don’t come in!”

you lean yourself against the bed frame, inching your fingers closer to your wet folds and then slowly starting to move them.

“why? what’s going on?”

you hear him say just as you fasten the speed, biting down on your lip so that a mewl won’t escape.

“seonghwa,”

he stops and then he groans, “shit, y/n, baby let me in.”

and you push your fingers in, shuddering as you pumped in and out. your other hand travels to your breast, softly kneading while your fingers worked in and out of you.

he knocks on the door, pressing himself against the door when he hears you moan out his name. swallowing when he hears the pretty voices of yours, he hasn’t heard in a while.

“y/n,” he says lowly, and you cry his name out, he finds himself closing his eyes and letting out shaky breaths.

“seonghwa,” you cry out loudly and the doorknob shakes, parting your lips as you let out a silent scream.

“fuck,” he groans, his own self getting impatient. “baby, open the door for me.”

you shake your head as if he could see you, feeling the wetness starting to pool out of you. your chest heaving up and down while your mouth keys out pretty voices that has his cock twitching in his pants.

“baby, louder,” he says, “i can’t hear you.”

and as if on demand, you whine out loudly. he curls his fists, trying to control himself to not barge in until you say so.

“y/n, let me in please.” he begs, biting his lips, hard enough to perhaps draw blood.

“d-don’t.” you let out shakily, shutting your eyes as the heat started to coil up in your stomach.

“but i can make you feel so good,” he says breathily, “i know that body like my own cock.”

you mewl at his words, “just go away!” you squirm, “or stay put.”

abs he chooses the second option, looking down at the tent forming in his pants before looking at the door.

he finds himself getting needy, palming his own cock slowly. closing his eyes and leaning back on the door, mouth parting when he hears your voices.

he tries to imagine you but whines when he can’t, “y/n,” he says once again, shutting his eyes as he feels his cock twitch.

and then there’s silence from the other side, he places a hand on the doorknob and twists it and to his surprise the door opens wide.

he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees you sitting on the bed, your fingers inside your pussy and moans.

he walks inside when you stare at him, your legs shut close when he stands by the end of your bed. his eyes showing a dark glint and teeth gnawing on his bottom lip, he then gets a hold onto your ankles and pulls you to the end.

you let out a surprise yelp when he spreads your legs wide, he shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on yours. “please let me fuck you properly baby,” he grits out and you whimper, “let me make you feel good.”

he kneels down and placed his larger hands on your thighs, “y/n, look here.” you look away as the heat rushes to your cheeks, you close your legs, but he holds onto them and spreads them wider.

“no baby, let me see this, it’s all for me.” he then trails a finger down your clit and you shiver, he then lowers himself close to your already wet and needy center.

“tell me to stop right now and i will,” he looks straight at you, fiddling with your dress as bunches it up.

“can i?” his hot breath fans against your inner thighs and you close your eyes, “c-“

“yes, just hurry up!” you say out loudly and he smirks, holding onto your waist he dips his head between your legs and you cry out at the sensitively from your previous high.

you lay back on the bed, elbows holding you up as he dives his tongue inside of you. lapping at different speeds and eating you out as if the man has been starved for days.

“shit,” you whine, “h-hwa.”

“so pretty,” he says in between, diving his tongue in making you let out a moan for his name that has his cock twitch, and he moves in and out of you skillfully.

alternating from long slow licks to small circles with his fingers to his tongue lapping sinfully against your clit until he's had his fingers easily sliding in and out of you.

you close your legs, and he growls lowly, using his hands to part them as he finds a particular interest in sucking on the nerves that have you rolling your eyes back.

“c-close,” you whine out and he delivers a particular harsh suck that has you screaming his name and coming off your high.

he places hot trails of kisses by your inner thighs and then looks up at you, your head thrown back, chest heaving up and down heavily and the sweat lined against you.

he then stands up to hover of you, your eyes shut tight, and he smiles. “y/n,” he places his lips onto yours, you respond back after a few seconds and he smiles, finally feeling them on his.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “i’m sorry,” he mumbles against your lips and you pull back to rest your head back.

“i’m sorry too,” you mutter, he tucks his face in your neck, wrapping his arm around yours.

“i’m the one at fault,” he says, “you don’t need to apologize.”

you hum, running your hand through his hair. “will you let me back in?” you hear his quiet voice by your ear.

“seonghwa, i’m horny right now,” he chuckles, “you saying that sentence is making me think dirty thoughts.”

“do you want me go in?” he asks, purely out of playfulness.

“hm, do it right now.” you mumble lazily and he shoots his head up.

“are you serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised at your words.

you nod, “i heard pregnancy sex is the best, i want to try it.”

he laughs at your straightforward manner and shakes his head, “baby i don’t want to hurt you,” he moves his hand to your stomach. “or our little one inside.”

“just do it,” you open your eyes to meet his shiny ones, “i won’t let you do later on.”

he puckers his lips, “but won’t it hu-“

“no, it won’t, trust me.” you say, “hurry up!”

he shakes his head, “not right now baby, let’s do it next time.”

you laugh, “next time?” you shake your head, “no next time hwa.”

“just one? what about the five kids we wanted?” you smack his shoulder and then cup his cheeks.

“park seonghwa, the next time you do shit like this i’ll break you.”

he grins, swooping you up in his arms. you yelp but wrap your arms around his neck anyways. he has a grin on his lips that you haven’t seen in a while and it makes you feel as if everything’s settled, he glances at you from time to time and you see the same love you used too.

when you two lay on your bed side by side, he seems to have a permanent pout on his face as he sulks in your neck. you smile and lift your hands to run through his hair, he wraps his arm around your waist and nuzzles into you.

he places a soft peck on your neck before getting comfortable, bringing the blankets up and nuzzling into you. his hand rests on your stomach, caressing it lightly before falling asleep beside you. this was the best sleep you two had gotten, in a while.

and the next morning it’s as if his demeanor changed, he woke up before you but stayed in bed to admire your face. his lips met your forehead, nose, and then your lips as he looked at the glow shinning on your face.

he helps you with your sickness, doing chores that would usually be easier for you, bringing you all the strawberries and meals he had.

and you returned it with having him to run across town to bring you that one thing you ate months ago or shoving him inside the shower fully clothed because you thought he smelled weird, three times.

or him borrowing that book of names from your dad, that he reads every day before sleeping, suggesting you to name the child a name he heard in a movie.

or when he visits the town to bring home little clothes, shoes, hats and socks for your unborn child. he comes in giggling while holding bags full of stuff he bought, he then compares the sizes between his ginormous clothes to the baby ones.

he caresses your stomach one in a while, mumbling how, “good you look filled up with me.” and you smack his arm away.

how when you bump had finally grown more, you screamed his name and lifted your shirt. he came in running, a spoon in his mouth and the plate of pasta he held now chucked to the side.

he pokes at your stomach and feels the bump, kneeling in front of you. when he kisses your stomach, it usually ends up with him crying because he’s way too excited, more excited than you.

and when the guys noticed the bump, they all squealed so loud. especially mingi who seemed to be the most excited out of all, also who seonghwa had to shoo away.

the guys walk in at any given time of the day, sometimes when seonghwa has to tend to his duties, one of the guys would come and keep you company. cracking jokes or guessing the gender or the name you had thought off.

it’s as if time slipped, and your belly was even more swollen. yeosang who comes for your daily checkup, jumps on his feet whenever he feels the baby kick through his stethoscope.

“you’ll be due soon,” he’d say, and it only made you more nervous, because you had heard about the pain one experiences, or how some don’t make it through, or if you would be a good m-

“what’s your pretty little head thinking?” you break off from your trance to look at seonghwa, who laid beside you on the bed.

your hand reaches up to your belly, “nothing, just wondering who the kid will go on.”

he smirks at that, “on me of course, they’ll take my good looks and my brains.”

you snarl at the man and bring the sheets up to your chin, getting comfortable and closing your eyes.

but it’s as if god has different plans, at exactly 3:44 your eyes shoot open. your hand goes to your stomach and then you feel it, your water’s broken.

you look at seonghwa who’s sleeping with a content smile and poke his face, “hwa, hwa get up.”

he stirs in his sleep and lazily opens his eyes and hums, “hmm whaat is it, do you want mo stawbehies?”

“no,” you lean down, “my water broke.”

he squishes his cheek against the pillow and mumbles out a soft, “what?”

you roll your eyes, “the baby’s coming!” you yell, “right now!”

and it takes him no time to jump off his bed, he first looks at you wide eyed and mouth hung open. his hands are up by his head as if someone has arrested him and then he screams, loudly.

you’re sure all the lights of the villa are turning on, seonghwa picks you up from the bed and runs down the room you two had prepared beforehand, he lays you down on the bed and when he sees your face contorting into pain he screams, yet again.

“get the midwife!” he yells at himself, running in his doodle filled pyjamas down to grab the midwife.

at this point, everyone’s awake. the maids who are patiently waiting outside in the hallway, both yours and seonghwa’s parents standing by each other guessing who the baby will go on.

the guys who are half awake standing in their matching pyjamas that you bought for them in a group set, betting money on if it’s the gender they guessed on.

seonghwa’s inside the room, walking back and forth as if he’s the one who’s pregnant. the midwife and her workers help fix the room while telling you breathing exercises, you listen to them as you laid comfortably.

“stop running around,” you tell him, your feelings totally contrasting. he’s panicking and you’re sitting all relaxed.

“your highness,” the midwife bows, “you should wait outside.”

“oh no, no, no!” he immediately disagrees, “i’m staying here, by her side.”

“but yo-“

“no questions asked,” he says and you stare at him wide eyed, you’re about to call out for his name but then you feel the pain kicking in.

“seonghwa!” you yell and he’s immediately kneeling by you, running a hand through your hair as the pain worsened.

“it’s happening,” the midwife says, “hold on tight miss general, you’re in for a ride.”

and you scream immediately.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re doing amazing!”

“park seonghwa, shut up!”

“no no, i read this in the books, if i keep talking to you-“ he’s cut off by him screaming as you grip his hand hard.

“i’m never going to let you do this again!” you yell, breathing heavily as a layer of sweat washes over you.

“you’re doing great, breathe, our child’s almost here.” he watches you groan and yell and push and cry and his respect for you grows every second.

he kneels to your face, wiping away the sweat and tears by a towel. “you know, this isn’t the right time, but you look really hot right now.”

you push his face away and yell, the midwife cries out in happiness as she tells seonghwa to do whatever he did once again.

he nods immediately, holding your hand in his. “are you ready for kid number one?”

your eyes grow wide and the midwife screams, “park seonghwa, this is the one and only-“

“one more time! your highness, one more!”

“i know we just had my birthday, but we should have that night aga-“

“no!” you scream, gripping the sheets tightly and shutting your eyes.

he caresses your forehead while holding your hand, “i bet it’s a prin-“

“it’s a princess!” and you hear the crying of a child.

your body falls in a pool of relief, and your eyes cry out a river. your mouths hung open as you breathe in and out, trying to catch your breath.

the midwife comes with a big smile, carrying a small body frame in her arms, with a smile she places the body on your rising chest. your trembling hands hold onto, your daughter, your newborn daughter.

your eyes immediately move to seonghwa’s and find him hiding his face in his arms, you ask him to lift his head up and once he does his eyes water more. you nod and take his hand to bring it over your daughter, his face quickly breaks out into a big smile.

he inches closer and the midwifes move to the bathroom the room for privacy, his eyes fall out fat droplets of tears as he looks at you and then to the small face tucked into a cloth.

his wide eyes turn onto crescents when he notices the baby, her cute chubby cheeks, her little lips and her small little hands.

“s-she,” he sobs, “our daughter.”

you nod and ask him to hold her, he says no at first, telling you that his hands are too big or what if he drops her. you take his hands and then gently hand him your little princess.

“our princess,” he says, eyes flickering to you and to the baby he coddles.

“our daughter, princess of eden, park hwayoung.”

eight months later.

you and seonghwa huddle up together, opening the door to your daughter’s room slowly in hopes that the noise won’t disturb her sleep.

but when you do open the window, she’s standing with her arms leaning over the crib wall. opening her little mouth yawning, stretching her arms over her head dramatically before falling down on her bed.

seonghwa coos beside you and you hurry inside, “hwayoung-ah!” you say, and her eyes fly to yours, widening and sparkling.

damn it, just like her dad.

she lifts her hands up for you to pick her up, once you do, your brush her short hair back and she giggles before pointing at seonghwa who stood behind you, with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“hi princess,” he says and she reaches for his cheeks, planting her small hands on his skin.

“ha!” she says and you laugh, making seonghwa frown.

“it’s da-da hwayoung, not ha!” he whines in your ear, and she does nothing but call him ‘ha’ again.

you smile sheepishly because you know it’s your deeds, you call seonghwa ‘hwa’ so much that your daughter had picked it up too.

but since she’s little and wobbles over her words, she calls him “ha!” instead of “hwa,” which everyone finds too adorable.

she smiles when she sees seonghwa pout, her little giggles filling the room and you realize how grown she had gotten so quick.

you still remember the very first month, both you and seonghwa didn’t leave hwayoung alone for even a second. building a makeshift bed for her in between you two, she’d sleep half her day away.

her hands curled up onto little fists, sleeping like a starfish, her frame wrapped in a yellow duckie blanket gifted to her by mingi.

the second month was when you two really experienced the chaotic energy she had, waking up at the most spontaneous hours of the night, crying and screaming and then laughing and playing the other second.

the third month was when you and seonghwa would have a breakdown, you remember how when you asked seonghwa to change her diaper and he stared at you with horror.

he would use the tip of his fingers to remove the diaper and then with your help change it for her, while she either slept away or moved way too much.

seonghwa still finds it horrifying when he remembers his own stories with hwayoung.

but as months passed by, at five months was when you two heard her say her very first word.

“mama,”

and you cried out of joy, shoving your face into seonghwa’s, celebrating your win over the small contest you two had over who’s name would she say first.

the next shocker you had was when you were in her room, cleaning her toys up and you looked back and saw her standing up on her feet.

you immediately called seonghwa over and he comes in with a camera with him, filming the very first steps of his daughter.

when it hit eight months, you two had kind of gotten the hang off your daughter. and it was the best feeling to see her every day, screaming or laughing or looking at you with those eyes of her dad’s.

whenever you would scold her, she would widen her eyes and stare into your soul.

needless to say, she’s a carbon copy of seonghwa’s personality and a mixture of both your face.

aside from the eyes, she had the cutest cheeks you had ever seen, pouty lips and a contagious smile that brightened the room wherever she went.

seonghwa had also gone out of his way to get hwayoung anything her eyes laid on, which included dresses with strawberries on them.

one thing your daughter absolutely loved was strawberries, no wonder you had craved them so much during her.

she’s just like her dad and seonghwa makes sure to boast it in your face every day, or whenever hwayoung would waddle her way to him when he would come from work.

but she was your daughter, in the end of the day she runs to you with her arms frantically moving up and down and then finally falling asleep in your embrace.

and when she would sleep on seonghwa’s chest because she found it more comfortable, you’d snap a quick picture while seonghwa smiled, caressing her cheek.

when she finally hit the two-year mark, both you and hwayoung had a portrait taken. where she sat on your lap, a big smile on her face, short hair pulled into two pigtails and a pink dress.

that was your new favourite picture.

ah, and well as for your duty as a general. you decided to retire, wanting to be by hwayoung’s side all the time. you were now an ex-general, still taking the time in between to train a few newbies.

jongho had become the new head of the army and he made sure to boast it in your face and you’d laugh and say, “i trained you!”

you and seonghwa would carry your daughter everywhere, seonghwa would make her sit on his shoulders while her tiny hands played with his hair, and you’d prop her on your waist while she played with the chain around your neck.

in the end of the day, you and seonghwa would huddle together in the bed tiredly because your daughter had way too much energy.

“let’s not have another kid, she’s enough.”

that was funny because you screamed that same sentence on your second. yelling at seonghwa who only held your hand and helped you through the birth while saying ridiculous things that riled you up.

and this time, it was a boy.

seonghwa had chosen the name this time, hwan.

you remember the little guy screaming in the middle of the might that made you and seonghwa run to the room, most of the time it was hwayoung bothering him and others he was crying for no reason.

he had developed more of your personality but looked exactly like seonghwa, jongho would laugh and call it a “double homicide.”

hwan would spend time with hongjoong often, fascinated by the fact how his uncle played the piano.

who would excitedly teach him how to play and hwan would watch with his cat-like eyes, sitting beside hongjoong while his fingers played the keys.

hwayoung would make the rest of the guys dress up in pink tutu’s and invite them to her tea party, handwriting a sign with swirls and rainbows.

and they’d join happily, calling her their “little princess” who’s order they will forever follow.

others would find it surprising that how the big and bad princes and kings and generals (the guys) would be wrapped around the fingers of your kids.

you and seonghwa, worked even close than before. alternating responsibilities from your kids and then to the royal duties, but you made sure you would always spend time with the kids.

which meant taking them to the balmoral villa by the sea, or them jumping onto you and seonghwa first thing in the morning and then cuddle before falling asleep again.

you would discipline the kids while seonghwa spoiled them.

and then when the day had finally come, seonghwa’s parents had stepped down from the throne of eden.

hand in hand you two stood by each other, dressed in the coronation clothes with crowns over your head.

your kids stood in front of you two, playing with their clothes while pointing everywhere. the photographer snapped multiple photos and they would get broadcasted everywhere just like how the coronation.

you and seonghwa walked out the throne room, hearing the public chant your names and hold the flags of eden. waving their hands to yours, and you two glanced at each other and then laughed.

because in the end you two were together, with a small family of your own. your friends and parents supporting you and a new public who looked after you.

hwan and hwayoung ran to you two, yelling for you while holding their arms wide open. you picked hwan up and seonghwa picked hwayoung in his arms.

asking her to wave at the ones standing there for them, hwan would shy away and bury his face in your neck.

you glanced at seonghwa, and he winks, puckering his lips playfully and you shook your head, looking ahead.

this was it, seonghwa became the new king of eden and you, the queen consort of eden.

and you lived happily ever after.

the end.

previous part. 

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[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [3/3]  Pairing: millionaire!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: mystery, major angst ahead, thriller, mafia!au-ish

Synopsis: Just run, Y/N. Don’t look back.

Warnings: dark and yandere themes, toxic relationships, mentions of violence, shady business, class differences, mentions of rape, smoll breeding kink, unwanted pregnancy, mentions of abortion, and sakusa being a manipulative bastard 

Notes: 

Im disappering again for a week or two so as a parting gift, here ya go, im starting a bokuto fanfic soon and posting the reboot of notice me soon too hnnng thanks for the wait guys uwu

A sorta realistic take on a yandere is harder than it looks kssjdn omg anyways here yall go the long awaited last chapter of filthy rich. I’m not sure if I should put like a one shot sequel but so far im marking this series completed. Thanks for sticking by!

previous || series masterlist || blood son [sequel;one shot]

You run your hands through your hair and shut your eyes tight, the quietness and stillness of your shared apartment was something to bask on before you put on a fake mask of happiness. It had been exactly two months since you found out about the birth control switch and the medaide agenda. 

In the span of those two months, you had grown more observant towards your boyfriend’s actions and you knew that it wouldn’t be anytime soon until he actually notices that you were onto him. 

You let out a shaky breath as you recollected some weird things you’ve seem to have noticed, how his brows would furrow when he’d receive a call indicating that something was up and it was serious or how you visited your ex-boss one time a week or so ago along with Kenjiro since you wanted to see how he was doing.

“...Well, he just didn’t come home and sold the place. Apparently he was in a rush to move or something because of family matters so I didn’t exactly see him.” the neighbor gossiped to you two.

“Y/N?”

You jump on your spot as you hear that dreadfully familiar voice.

“Hey,” You greet, walking up to him, you decide to do your usual hug but stop when you notice a small red stain on his necktie, the tie is dark blue and although it wasn’t obvious from afar, it definitely was up close. Your brows are furrowed together, this time in pure curiosity, “Did you get hurt? It’s unlike you to get messy.”

You notice the quick shift of attitude in his eyes, you were seemingly getting good at observing his emotions these days and it looked like he panicked for a second there.

Odd.

“A friend of mine had gotten hurt a while ago, you remember Atsumu Miya?”

A vivid image of a blonde man crossed your mind, he was another conglomerate friend of your boyfriend, another person to be weary of to add to the list, “Oh, is he alright?” you asked, trying to keep it casual as you untie his tie for him as usual.

“Yes. He’s awfully clumsy. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh…” You mumbled, “by the way, I visited my ex-chief.”

“Ex-chief?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, “You know, my boss from before? Me and a few co-workers decided to visit him since he was a really good boss. Turns out he just left without telling anyone, poor man.”

“Sounds unpleasant. Did you know why he quit?”

“No.” You shrugged as you take the tie out and place it on the side, “He suddenly just quit his job and moved, neighbors said it was also because of family matters. It’s kinda weird because as far as we knew, he didn’t have a family.”

“Would you like me to look into it?”

You almost stiffen when he slithers his arms on your waist but you didn’t want to give away any suspicion, “No. I don’t want to pry. Hopefully he’s enjoying his retirement.” You sighed, turning towards him with a tight smile, “Now what would you like for dinner? I was thinking Mediterranean? I need to lose some weight since I’ve been feeling bloated for a while.”

He leans in for a soft kiss on your temple, “Mediterranean would be fine. Would you like anything else? We could order more.” he hummed, his lips slowly started to dangerously hover on top of yours.

“No, it’s fine.” You give him a quick peck and wiggle your way out of his arms, your stomach doesn’t feel well these days. Whenever you were near Sakusa you had the urge to throw up your innards despite having an empty stomach.

You don’t notice the dangerous gaze on your behind as you pick up the phone for your take-out.

Sakusa hasn’t felt you in a long time and it’s driving him insane, he wants to feel your heat, your body, and everything in between. He wants to fill you up and see you pregnant with his children. He wants everyone in the world to know you were his and his only.

Yet he can’t do that.

You’ve ignored his affections these past few weeks and it had been driving him insane to the point where he had to ask one of his men to put an eye on you to see if you had been cheating on him or seeing someone else.

Yet you hadn’t.

Your routine was the same old one and Sakusa is digging his nails deeply into his skin in his office one day with his tie uncharacteristically untied. Miya Atsumu sits across him, taking a sip from his flask, “Ya look like shit.” the blonde points out.

“Fuck off, Miya.”

“Heard from your cousin that you’re not getting laid by your girl these days.”

“You better be thankful that you’ve got men behind you or I’d be shooting your fucking brains out for saying that.” Sakusa spats, his dark gaze pointedly looking at the blonde across him.

“You should just find someone else then and not yer prude of a-”

“Keep telling me ideas like that and maybe I might just shoot you and chop your body up until it looks fuckin’ unrecognizable.”

Atsumu raises his hands up, signaling that he was giving up, “Gee, omi-omi. I was just giving my advise. It’s so easy to drop her.”

“I don’t want to drop what’s mine.”

“You’ve got issues.” He chuckles, “Haven’t you been switching out her pills and fucking her raw for the last couple of months? I bet yer ass you got her pregnant on that before but ya just don’t know it. Getting her pregnant would definitely secure her spot in her life. Woman’s nuthin’ without ya.”

“She’s...she’s not showing…”

“When was the last time ya two went at it?”

“Two months ago.”

“Ya poor boy.” Atsumu sighs, shaking his head, “Ya sure you don’t want to take a break from being a loyal boyfriend for one night? i bet Y/N wouldn’t notice.”

“And no one would notice if you fucking disappeared. I’ll make sure of it, now get out.”

You may not have been the sharpest tool on the shed but you know that someone’s been tailing you these past few days, you’re not stupid. You could only come to the conclusion that it was Sakusa who was doing such things but you couldn’t get why.

Something just didn’t make sense. It felt like you were missing an important piece in the puzzle, med-aide and the switch of your pills and now a hidden tail?

You furrow your brows together in deep thought  as you sat down next to a teenage boy on his phone, you decided to take the bus today to the grocery store, surprisingly the one tailing you wasn’t around today.

Your eyes slowly shift towards the boy’s phone, it seemed like he was playing a video game.

An otome game, to be exact.

You felt your lips twitch up, you remembered those games a lot growing up. The graphics seem to have massively improved now by the looks of it, “...That looks interesting.” You tell the teenage boy who turns to you in surprise.

“Oh, thanks.” the blonde replied quietly.

“Is that a new otome game?”

“Kind of.” He blinks, his gaze returning back to the screen,  “It’s sort of a remake of the yandere simulator from back then.”

You feel your shoulders tense up.

“A yandere?”

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, “The girl’s awfully creepy in the game, she stalks him, does things to get him. The player has to catch her in the act and evade her at the same time.”

“Oh…” You blink, “I-uh, this is weird… but what’s a yandere again?’

“It’s someone obsessively in love with you. They’ll do anything to have you stay by them.” He says, pushing on a button but suddenly the screen turns red and you feel shivers run down your spine as you hear him curse and the words ‘you’re caught’ appear on the screen.

“W-what happened to your character?”

“He died. Nothing much.” he mumbles, “If the Yandere knows they can’t have you, they’ll kill you.”

You immediately went pale as soon as you heard that. Maybe, just maybe you were being paranoid. He wouldn’t go to that extent, would he?

“How did your character escape the yandere in the game?” 

“Well, I haven’t finished the game yet but based on some anime’s and manga’s I've usually read. They either killed to get away or they moved so far away where they wouldn’t be seen so I think the creator might have the same ending.” The blonde said, he slowly looked to your side, “You’re looking awfully pale, ma’am. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, j-just remembered a horrible game I played back when I was your age.” You gulped in, “Nightmares, you know? The yandere tried to get my character pregnant and tried to get in her way of moving out of the country.”

“Sounds like a very realistic one.”  He mumbles, “What did your character do?”

“I wasn’t able to finish it.” you whispered, loud enough for him to only hear, “I couldn’t really find a way out.”

“The developers of the game must’ve made it hard for you. Maybe your character should’ve ran away,” he advised, “Or better yet, you should’ve killed him.”

“I-well, I don't think there were options like that.”

“Well if I were you and there was no option for killing, I’d run. Far, far away. Change my identity and all that.” he exits the game and stuffs the phone back in his pocket, you get a good look of his cat-like eyes and immediately feel a shiver on your spine with the next words he say, “I mean its a game but you wouldn’t wanna loose and get your character killed, right?”

“R-right.”

The teenage boy hops down without even saying goodbye and you have a scary realization that you can’t break it off like you originally had planned. You needed to run, run far as you can and get lost.

The words that the teenage boy says echoes in your head for the next few days, from that point on, realization dawns upon you that, nothing is certain now. You couldn’t trust anyone, you couldn’t let friends and family be involved in this. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a powerful man so you needed to be careful with how you were going to disappear.

You continue to act nonchalant and the same as you try to lay out your plan but you knew that you had only a week or so to complete this for it to successfully work.

Sakusa Kiyoomi wonders what he should do to save the relationship, he’s tried everything in the book that he could think of but you remained the same. Was this the end of the relationship? For real?

He could never stomach the idea of having you leave him.

It’s eerie that day, something felt different when he came home to an empty apartment. It looked the same yet something felt very, very different. Apparently the apartment guards said you were here since your car hadn’t left the driveway and they hadn’t seen you go out.

He checks out your side of the closet, your clothes remain there untouched and your toiletries were there too. He scans the fridge for your notes but nothing is stuck there. He suddenly feels like something cold was dumped on him.

It couldn’t be, right?

Right?

He runs to every room, checking every nook and cranny and when he finally reaches the last room which was the bathroom, nothing is there.

Everything was in its place except you.

Where were you?

Your bank account remains untouched, your wallet and phone was left in the apartment. It was as if you were returning home, the very least. Komori tells him to calm down, saying that they’re letting the best people find you around the city, they don’t rule out that someone might’ve had the audacity to touch you.

Whoever took you would be given hell to pay, that’s for sure. Was it the triad? Kkangpae’s? Or opposing yakuza’s? Oh, they’ll definitely have their heads on the platter if they tried to harm a single hair on your head.

Sakusa doesn’t even hesitate to notify the police about you already despite the memorandum that twenty-four hours is needed to consider a person missing, it's nothing a little money can fix.

“I hope we find her soon.” Your aunt sighed, “I’ve notified her parents about it. It’s definitely weird that she’d leave all her valuables behind.”

Hinata and Natsu sit there next to their mom, completely sad and worried, “I’ve hired the best people for it already, obaasan. We’ll find Y/N.” Sakusa replies yet his thoughts are in a complete frenzy now.

And find you they did.

No stone was left unturned. He made sure of it. Yet after a month of relentless searching. Nothing came up, it seemed like you had just vanished and Sakusa Kiyoomi had turned the whole underground world upside down for you but nothing came up.

Some say that you disappeared and ran away but that was immediately ruled out, no security cameras saw you in and out during that day and it would be impossible for you to just leave without security cameras on you. The guard had exclaimed that despite the blackout that day, the generators only took a few minutes to power up so they’d definitely catch you on camera in case you ever exited the building (along with the guards since they knew exactly what you looked liked) plus the clothes and such were still there, left untouched.

Some said you died, it was definitely impossible for you to just vanish without a single trace after all since everyone was looking for you.

Yet no one dared to say it in front of the boss, not if they valued their life.

The billionaire had dried out his connections to find you. What good was it to be the most powerful and richest man in the country if he couldn’t find you? Life had no meaning now, you were gone. It felt like a part of him was ceasing to function.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a dead man walking now.

Unknown to the whole world, you’re in a small town with little to no signal. Your hair is chopped unevenly and your skin is darker from the repeated exposure under the sun, your life is simple and mundane now yet you’re happy.

For the first time in months, you actually felt free.

You shut your eyes tight, the events that transpired this past few months replayed  in your head. Your escape was definitely done as carefully as you can and you didn’t even know if you’d succeed since you weren’t a master in that sort of thing.

You recalled that it was a week before you ran away, a few days after you met that kid in the bus. Someone from the electric company had come to inform you that there was a scheduled black out in the city that day during the afternoon and you felt something bubble up in you. That was the day you’d put your plan into motion.

You knew that the longer you delayed your plan, the harder it would be to escape.

You had a few minutes to actually put your plan to work. The camera’s on the hallways would cease to function for a few minutes according to the guard downstairs as he did a protocol on the building (apparently the generators were quick). So that morning after Sakusa left, you placed only a few clothes and the stash of money you had been carefully hiding in a garbage bag and chopped your hair short in an uneven manner. Burning all the remaining hair on the fireplace and the black hair color that you use with it. The maid uniform that you stole on your floor and a fake name plate that you made was on and you were good to go.

The minute the black out started, you took the garbage bag and walked out. Taking the stairway used by the caretakers, you made sure to just look down and never directly up at the camera’s pretending to work.

When you finally made it out of your building. You let out a stiff sigh and put down the bag, it was only the beginning. If you thought the same way as Sakusa Kiyoomi, you could only imagine that you needed to be more careful from this point on.

You take the newly bought duffel bag that you strategically hid behind some boxes. Thankfully when you had placed it yesterday afternoon, it hadn’t been touched. 

You put on a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt with cheap shades and stuffed the maid uniform in the duffel bag along with your belongings in the garbage bag. You take the other route that led to the busy streets. It was easy to look like a tourist and seemingly blend in the crowd, from that point on, you only had one destination in mind.

When you were younger, you vividly remember an acquaintance telling you about this small town outside of Tokyo where her grandparents were from. It was only an hour away via plane and when you went down another few hours via bus yet if you took the bus route all in all, it would take a few days.

Since it was far, only a few busses actually went there and since you had to leave within the day, you decided to just take the bus nearest to that town and take another bus when you arrived there.

The plan smooth-sailed from that point on.

Except for one minor detail.

You open your eyes and look down at your now small bump. The monster who almost had you trapped left a parting gift, you grip your garden hoe tightly.

A big part of you wanted to kill it.

Yet every time you try to, you hesitate.

The moment you arrived here, you had to pretend to be a weary and poor widow. You just didn’t expect to be a weary and poor expecting widow. You let out an uncharted sigh at the thought, it was hard enough to be alone here with little to no money. 

This child had the demon’s blood in it.

Yes, you may have gone free from his cage but in truth with his seed growing in your stomach day by day, you started to feel quite the opposite.

taglist [thanks for your support ilyasm skkss im so sorry for updating late too :(]

@maraudusk ;; @iamnotobsessed  ;;  @ssuna ;; @weebartistinc ;; @aomineavenue ;; @tsukkismamagucci ;; @onlyshinji ;; @ichiraku-verse ;; @watevermelon ;; @victoriasee ;;  @caramelcandescence ;; @n-nara ;; @bloody-bella ;; @ricefarmerkita​ ;; @paripedia ;; @srhlsx ;; @craftyfawns ;; @kepchups ;; @soggycardboardd ;;  @vinnieluv ;; @dinablossom ;; @yourstruly-01 ;; @shinhiromi ;; @dinablossom ;; @kneecotinee ;;  @vicassa ;; @ahoeforshouto ;; @benimarus-main-mop​ ;; @atsunakaashi​ ;; @myaaa-xoxoxox​ ;;  @newfriendjen​​ ;; @usedcoupon​

@kn0xiousnight  

[can’t tag you guys uwu just make sure ur tags are open :<]

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter V

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings: none? i think?

word count: 2.5k

Han Solo could be punctual when he really wanted to. He really didn’t care to be, though. Leia had told him they had guests, and she’d like him back on Hosnian Prime in time for brunch. Han Solo didn’t care to have brunch with what he’d assumed were diplomats or royals. And diplomats and royals didn’t really care to dine with Han Solo. 

“I’m sorry Han is so late,” Leia said, sitting next to you on the couch as you wrapped a braid around the crown of her head. “I should’ve known, I guess.”

You laughed a little. “I counted on him being late. I don’t know Han like you do, but I know him well enough.”

Leia smiled. Of course you knew Han well enough to count on him being late. Leia blames her forgetfulness about you on pregnancy, but she knows it was the time apart. She’s more than excited to bridge those gaps. 

“I don’t want Mando to feel disrespected,” she said. “I know he’s important to you.”

You smiled at the mention of Paz. “He won’t feel disrespected, Leia, I promise. He knows who Han Solo is, you know. He’s a bit of a hero to those who do, uhm, illegal things.”

“Mando does illegal things?”

You shrugged. “He has.” Paz had smuggled things when the Tribe was really struggling and bounties were low, he had told you as your conversations got deeper. 

“Well, I guess we have, too, technically,” Leia says. “And Alderaanian girls like bad boys. That’s what my mother used to say.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Let’s go ahead and eat. I don’t think Han would be mad if we started without him.”

“Alright, I’ll go tell Threepio we’re ready,” she said, standing up and smoothing her grey dress. “You go get your Mando, if he’d like to join.”

“I’m sure he will,” you say, standing up as well. Earlier that morning Leia had brought some comfortable lounging clothes to you, and you’d chosen loose grey pants and a matching crop top. You’d slipped on some house shoes to go with them. You and Leia had been braiding each other's hair while waiting for Han, something sisters on Alderaan held sacred and learned to do for all hair types and lengths. The braids both of you wore in your hair carried a deeper meaning today. 

You caught a glance of yourself in the hallway mirror as you went to get Paz. You looked like a woman from Alderaan again. It was bittersweet, reminding you of years past. But it was also comforting, being wrapped in Alderaan again was daunting when you first arrived, but maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

You knocked on the door of the aptly named Blue Room. “Paz? Can I come in?”

“One second,” he calls, voice unmodulated. You could hear him walking across the room to put on his helmet. A moment later, his voice rings through the vocoder telling you it’s safe. 

You open the door as he’s strapping on his thigh plates, cuirass and pauldrons already in place. “I don’t think all that’s necessary,” you say. “Leia says it’s very secure here.”

“Maybe it’s not,” he says, fiddling with the clasp. “But this is the Way, kebiin’ika.” You nodded. You still didn’t know much about this Way, and you doubt you’ll ever fully understand it. 

His visor is trained on you, he’s looking you up and down. Paz’s face grew warm as he admired your clothes, new and soft and classic Alderaan white. And your hair, kriff, it’s beautiful and intricate. You look very different to how you looked on Dantooine when he first met you, but just as beautiful. And even more relaxed. “You look very nice,” he said, silently cursing himself for saying something awkward.

Your face grew hot now. “Thank you, Paz,” you smile up at him. “That’s very sweet.”

“Just telling the truth, mesh’la,” he says.

“We’re going to eat breakfast, if you want to join,” you say, changing the subject away from yourself. “Han isn’t here yet, though.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll join you,” he says, motioning you to go out the door first. Paz was relaxed today, and you wish his clothing could reflect it. He deserved to wear soft flowy fabrics so he could feel the breeze of Hosnian Prime and feel the soft fabric of Leia’s many couches and chairs. But maybe that wasn’t what he wanted, what he wanted was to wear his armor.

Leia was sitting in the sunroom at the back of the house, plates of small sandwiches and eggs cooked all types of ways and plenty of other foods lay out on the table before her. She stood up when the two of you entered the room, royal protocol continuing to persevere after all these years. “Good morning, Mando,” she says.

“Goodmorning, your highness,” Paz says with a bow of his head. 

“Good!” C-3PO says as he brings in a kettle of tea. “You’re catching on, Master Mandalorian.” 

Leia shakes her head with a laugh. “Don’t worry about the protocol, Mando. I don’t want to be too proper in my own home.”

Paz just nods, moving to sit in the chair next to yours. He’s eyeing the sandwiches, wishing he could have one, but in his four decades he’s gotten used to the temptation of food and to the long days without food. 

You pick up a sandwich, some fruit, and some eggs to start with. Leia is working on doing the same when the sound of a ship gets deafening above the house. “Han!” Leia exclaimed, setting her plate down. 

She went to the door of the sunroom that led into the back yard, watching as Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon settled down in the yard. As the ship hits the ground, Leia throws open the door and runs outside. 

Han emerges from the hull, and you’re shocked to not see Chewbacca with him. Han and Leia hug and kiss, and Leia starts explaining something. You know Leia’s tells, the woman explains with her hands. You assume she’s explaining your and Paz’s presence, probably giving him a heads up that Paz is a Mandalorian, like Boba Fett. 

Paz watches you watch your friends. A smile grows across your face as you watch Han’s hand splay across Leia’s pregnant belly, telling the baby something. His mind drifts as you start to eat, he imagines the two of you on Yavin with little Vizsla foundling running around as his hand splays across your belly, telling your baby something. 

“Why if it isn’t my favorite mechanic!” Han says as he walks in. 

He pulls you into a hug as you say, “You only flatter me when the Falcon needs fixing.”

“She’s good for now,” Han says, letting you go. “But if she ever isn’t, I know who to call.”

“Where’s Chewie?” You ask. Paz doesn’t know who Chewie is, but if he had to guess, it was the Wookie that always appeared with Han in holos. 

Han took a bite before answering, but Leia was tired of scolding him for talking with his mouth full. “Back on Kashyyyk, helping them rebuild.”

“Good, that’s good,” you smile softly at the fond memories of the Wookie. “And congratulations, Han. On the baby.”

He smiles and his eyes flit to Leia’s stomach. “Thank you, it’s hard work for me, this baby.”

Leia slaps Han’s shoulder with one hand while the other caresses her stomach. “Oh, hush,” she says. “Hard work,” she mocks with a roll of her eyes. 

“So, Mando,” Han says, turning to face Paz. “You’re with our prized mechanic, or so Leia tells me.”

Paz turns to Han. “I am.”

“Man of few words, this one,” he says, pointing his thumb over to Paz. “You know if you hurt her in any way, you’ll have pissed off almost all of the New Republic, right?”

Paz nodded. “I don’t plan to hurt her, Han Solo. I plan to keep doing the opposite.” 

“Good, good,” Han says. “She’s like our sister, that one.”

“You know I’m right here, right?” 

Han scoffs. “I haven’t lost that many brain cells.”

You laugh, taking a drink of some water. “Can never be too sure with you.” 

The brunch went well, Han’s banter was a welcome change to conversation. Han even got Paz to talk more, engaging in conversations about racing and smuggling stories. It was nice to hear Paz converse, not as natural as he was when he was alone with you, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Now you and Leia sat on the couches in the study again, and Paz was out with Han, being shown the Millennium Falcon. You knew Paz probably didn’t care as much as he let on, but Han was always excited to show off his ship. 

“They seem to be getting along,” Leia says. 

You nod. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think Han would like him.”

“Han can get along with anyone, if he wants to,” Leia says. “He’s really excited about the baby, you know.”

You nod. “I can tell,” you say. “Though I figured he’d want to name the baby Falcon or something.”

Leia lets out a belly laugh, throwing her head back. “You know,” she says between laughs. “He did consider the names Millie and Falcon.”

“Maker, of course he did,” you laugh with her. 

Once the laughter dies down, Leia speaks. “I’m not wanting you to leave,” she starts. “Just wondering how long you’ll be here. The senate session starts again in a week, and I’m going to be gone a lot.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t really have a plan. I’m sure he’ll be wanting to get back to Yavin IV soon, though. His tribe will need him. Maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want you to leave so soon, you could stay here, if you wanted.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know…I want to be with my Mando. He told me last night he planned to marry me.”

“You know I love you, right? I care about you?” You nod. “Ok, good. Because you barely know this man, and you’re going to marry him?”

You felt yourself getting defensive. “I’ve known him for a week, I know that it seems insane, but I am getting to know him. He’s very sweet, Leia. And it’s not like we’re getting married now.”

“I know, I just worry,” she sighs. 

“I know, and I’m glad,” you say. “We spent three days alone in hyperspace, he’s an open book if he wants to be.” 

-

The rest of the day was relaxed, but you could tell Paz was exhausted from Han’s talking when the two of you finally retired for the evening. Paz was stripping his armor off and stretching when you came out of the fresher in a nightgown Leia gave you. It was white, somewhat sheer if the light hit you right. And it took Paz’s breath away. He still had his thigh plates on when he approached you, hands falling to your waist as he looked down at you. His gloves were off, and you saw the small scars that covered his deep brown hands as they rested on your hips. “This is really pretty,” he says.

You giggle. “You like sheer things. Noted.” 

He chuckles a little, too. “You’re just really beautiful is all. Especially in that,” he’s looking you up and down again, the helmet moving dramatically as he takes you in. “I really wish I could kiss you, you know.” 

Your hands find his forearms, rubbing circles with your thumbs. “I wish you could, too.” The two of you are standing so close. Sure, you’d cuddled, you’d reclined between his legs, but this feels so much closer. 

Paz must’ve been thinking the same thing, and it must’ve scared him, because he took a few steps back. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly.

You tilted your head, brow arching. “Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, even quieter. He turns around and goes back to the chair where he had stacked his armor, moving to unclasp the thigh plates and add them to the pile. 

“You don’t have to be sorry about wanting to kiss me,” you tell him, walking over to the bed and starting to pull the duvet back. “Or telling me you want to kiss me. It’s not strange, it’s hot.”

He laughs a little at that. “It’s not weird?”

You’re shocked at this forty year old man asking you a question like a teenager. “No, Paz, it’s not weird. It’s good, giving people a heads up.”

He’s nodding, obviously not completely convinced. “Told the droid I needed our clothes washed,” he says. “Don’t have my sleep pants. Is it ok if I wear shorts?”

You’re a little confused, but you try not to show it. “Yeah, love, that’s fine. I don’t care.”

He enters the ‘fresher, shorts and sweatshirt in hand. When he returned, it was your turn to ogle. His thighs, kriff, his thighs. Paz was a big man, obviously his thighs would be big, too. But seeing them without the armor or the sweats was something else. 

“You look nice.”

He laughed. “Haven’t had my legs out in a long time.”

You smile. “I like it. It’s hot.” He makes his way to the bed, sitting next to you. You look at his legs, and they’re littered with a few deep scars, blaster wounds, and a few smaller scars. 

“I’ll tell you about them someday,” he says when he realizes that you’re staring. “Not tonight though.”

You nod. “You know what you should do tonight?” He hums. “You should kiss me.”

“Kebiin’ika,” he says. “You sure?”

“Paz Vizsla, you told me last night that you planned to marry me. I’m sure,” you say. 

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you obey. You hear the lights click off and the helmet land with a clunk on the nightstand. You feel his hand on your cheek, large and warm and comforting. “You’re so pretty, mesh’la,” he whispers.

You smile. “Just kiss me, Vizsla.”

He’s the one who obeys this time, closing the gap between the two of you. His lips are large and soft and warm, and they fit so well between your own.

Your hand wanders to his cheek, feeling his stubble under your palm as your lips find a rhythm with his.

He breaks the kiss first, resting his forehead against yours. “We call this a keldabe kiss in Mando’a,” he says, a little breathless. “Because Mandos can’t kiss with their helmets on.”

You smile, your hand still on his cheek, thumb slowing caressing him. “I wish I could see your face.” Your thumb stops, you freeze, scared that you’d offended him. 

“You will, mesh’la, you will,” he whispers. “Someday.”

tags: @remmysbounty @snipskixandbeskar

[gucci-giogio]

GioMis Headcanons (1/?)

As Giorno becomes a lot more comfortable hanging around Mista, he one day switches to calling him by his first name. Mista is caught completely off guard by that. “What did you call me?!” He asked, baffled, to which Giorno offers a silent frown and knitted brow. “I mean don’t get me wrong! It ain’t a problem I’m just.. you don’t call me that!” He tries to explain, but poorly. “Well, I did now. Is it a problem or not, Guido?” Giorno asks with a serious face. He figured that they get along fine enough so he feels confused as to why this is a potential problem. Did he read the developing situation wrong— “No! I like it! It’s perfectly cool.... GioGio.” There is a pregnant pause. “What did you just call me?!” Giorno responds.

Yes Mista gives Giorno his nickname. Narancia snickers when he hears it for the first time. He thinks it sounds completely ridiculous. Mista is offended. “I like it. It’s... fitting. You look like a GioGio.” Bruno says which only causes Giorno to slightly narrow his eyes at him. ‘What the hell does a GioGio look like..’ Giorno is now self conscious.

Mista quickly finds out that under that serious exterior, Giorno really is just your average everyday teen. A true terrorist in the kitchen. Completely useless in the food department outside of cooking eggs or rice. Mista asks him how the hell he survived like this to which Giorno simply replies “Strangers often bought me meals from any restaurant I chose. I was very thankful to them growing up.” Mista just squinted at him. “...They didn’t buy you a damn thing, did they? You pickpocketed your way to fine dining.” Mista guessed correctly. “I didn’t lie. They did buy me a meal. They just didn’t know it. I’m grateful nonetheless.” Giorno said easily to which mista just stares. This boy was something else....

Giorno was a wild man on the loose. Mista never knew what he was going to do next. GioGio was the sanest insane person he’d ever met... and he kind of digged it 61% of the time. The other 39% was him regretting ever going along with anything Giorno concocted in his schemey little mind. How many times has he almost died following behind Giorno, he wonders? But then again, it’s Giorno who’s the reason he is still alive to tell the tale. A true conundrum for Guido Mista.

Giorno and Mista butt heads from time to time but oddly enough, it’s Mista who’s usually the more sensible one to diffuse a situation. Giorno may seem quiet and poised, but Mista found out really fast that he’s actually a hot head and is easily pushed to being out for blood. Giorno enjoys leaning on mista to be his sense of calm every now and again. But it’s also annoying to him at times. Sometimes, Giorno just wants to go a little ape shit. Just a little. He swears, just a little.

He asks mista to teach him how to shoot for fun. Mista flat out refuses. “You deadass are like... baby Jesus or something with your life giving powers or whatever! Let me be the shooter! You stick to growing plants and raising the dead or whatever the hell it is you do!” Giorno just stares blankly. He intended it to be something they could bond over, but alas...

Giorno can still speak Japanese thanks to having spoken it primarily with his mother growing up. It’s a little shotty but he’s fluent. Mista enjoys hearing him speak in his native tongue. Narancia foolishly asked him to do an impression while reading a line from his One Piece manga. Giorno obliged and Narancia was left extremely disappointed. “Man, it ain’t the same... what a let down.” The boy says which earns him a punch from Mista. “Ya little shit.... Good job GioGio!” He says while shooting a thumbs up in his direction. Giorno smiles at that.

Guido once watched Giorno turn a corpse that he’d freshly shot dead into a python, willed it to slither into the hideout of a gang they were hunting down, then willed it to morph back into a bloody pile in the middle of the room after biting one of the members. The pure chaos that came out of that room was music to the boy’s ears. Guido could only look on in horror. He had no clue that Giorno could even do that. For some reason the thought of Bucciarati and his weirdo tactics flagged itself in his mind. “Bucci Junior..” he whispered to which Giorno whipped around with a “What?”

Mista smokes weed and Giorno catches him one day. “WAIT DUDE WAIT, I KNOW YOU AND BUCCI DONT LIKE THE DRUGS BUT BRO ITS... ITS DIFFERENT! ITS LITERALLY GRASS! ITS NATURE MAN LIKE—“ Giorno cuts him off by plucking the blunt from his hand, putting it to his lips, and taking a large drag of it. Mista calms instantly and looks on with interest. Oh that’s hot— “huuu... huuughh” Giorno is now dry heaving and coughing his little lungs out. Mista scrambles to pat his back and offers him his unfinished glass of water. Giorno takes it gladly. “What the fuck man... why’d you do that?!” Mista exclaims. Giorno is teary eyed from the coughing but wills the tears back. He cries for no one and no thing. “....I just wanted to let you know I didn’t mind stuff like that.” Mista stares unblinkingly. “You don’t have to pretend to be cool for me.” Giorno’s face is still flushed from the violent coughing so he’s certain mista can’t differentiate between the embarrassed flush that’s taking over as well. He can actually. “...Get in here. Bring it on in you dumbass.” He said, opening up his arms for a hug which Giorno slinked into, forlorn. They never speak of this again.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 25

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 25: Some have trouble adapting to home again. Some are gearing up for trouble they’re going to cause.

           By August of that year, Barney was locked away in the asylum. It happened so suddenly. Although he certainly hadn’t been himself since his last gunshot wound in the trenches, everyone had hoped that he would reacclimate as time went on. But his behavior only got worse. He was prone to violent outbursts that he didn’t even remember seconds after.

           Tommy and the rest of the 179th did their best to try and keep him calm and out of trouble. But there was only so much they could do. A few episodes at the Garrison was one thing. Harry could accept that the man was clearly out of his mind and not doing it on purpose. But the rest of the public world couldn’t understand.

           Barney was arrested a few times. But his was committed after he bit a cop and tried to escape jail. He was deemed insane soon after.

           Amelia knew Tommy took it very hard. They all did. These men who were parts of their lives were suddenly changed beyond a point of return. And there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t visit Barney and they couldn’t get Danny’s fits under control either.

           Rosie was at her wit's end and relied heavily on support from Amelia. Consequently, this allowed Tommy to slip back into his habits of working all hours of the day.

           Amelia noticed this a few months in, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Before the war, she had no problem laying into him about working himself to death. But after? Well, she didn’t know what to even say. She felt guilty about being strict about anything. In her mind, he had been through enough. Why should she scold him on something that was small compared to the grand scheme of things?

           But she wasn’t blind either. Amelia was aware that he never slept more than a few hours at a time. She couldn’t find the warmth in his eyes anymore. He was less outspoken than before and had a habit of sitting in stony silence instead of speaking out. He was energetic with the kids, at least as much as he could be on the amount of sleep he was getting.

           Amelia was grateful for that. Although it hurt to know Tommy had changed so much, at least the kids wouldn’t realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Amelia went into the betting shop one sweltering afternoon to bring Tommy lunch. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had been absent during dinner the night before. But there was no sign of him. She went into Arthur’s office to see where he was.

           “He came in early this morning, was here before everyone else.” Her brother-in-law answered. “He left ‘bout an hour ago saying he would be back later.”            

           “He didn’t say where he would be?” Amelia asked, her concern growing.

           Arthur shook his head. “I asked but he never answered.”

           She chewed on her lip. “Okay…well.” She considered waiting but figured her nerves would get the better of her. “Here, you can have this.” She gave Arthur the lunch before leaving the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Small Heath wasn’t particularly large, but that didn’t mean he was even there. He could’ve gone beyond the neighborhood. She started with Charlie’s Yard. That’s where Annie and Max were for the day. They were cranky inside because of the heat so she sent them to both Charlie for the morning.

           “Haven’t seen him,” Charlie said, sitting on a stool in the shade while he watched the kids. Curly was showing them a grasshopper he’d found in one of the horse stalls. The kids were so taken by the discovery that they didn’t even notice their mother arriving.

           “Do you know where he might’ve gone?” Amelia asked hopefully.

           “Whenever he’d get in a mood, he’d go to the graveyard to visit his mum,” Charlie replied. “I’d look there.”

           “Thank you,” Amelia said gratefully, hoping Tommy’s uncle was right.

           Across the yard, Annie squealed. The grasshopper had jumped out of Curly’s cupped hand and was on the loose. Max ran to try and catch it again. They were both so caught up in the summer fun, that she wasn’t going to interrupt it with her nerves.

           “I’ll be back to take them off your hands,” Amelia promised Charlie.

           “S’alright. They’re not hurting anyone.” He nodded before she went off toward the graveyard.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Charlie was right. Amelia found Tommy among the overgrown grass and crooked headstones. But he wasn’t standing in front of his mother’s grave. Hers was a few rows down. No, he was standing in the newer section in front of a newer plot.

           “Tom.” Amelia hated interrupting him while he was in deep thought, but she was just thankful she’d found him.

           He glanced over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he reached for her hand. She took it as she stood beside him. That’s when she noticed they were in front of Greta Jurossi’s grave.

           “When I got the letter from you, the one where you said she had died, I didn’t believe it.” He spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough to hear over the sound of cicadas in the grass. “I dunno, I just thought she was going to be the one to upset the system. One of those historical figures that people talk about.”

           Amelia knew that he and Greta shared the same ideologies. Aspirations that she was afraid of but Greta wasn’t. He had respect for her.

           “I know.” She said gently. “She would come by sometimes to the shop. She and Polly would always get worked up about the rights of women and the working class.” She smiled weakly.

           Tommy nodded, his eyes staring into space. “You were right, though.”

           “About what?”

           “When you came back, I was telling you about the communist group. You didn’t think it was enough to change the world.” He recalled. “And you were right.”

           “Tom…”

           “You don’t have to say anything.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more to say.”

           Young Tommy Shelby had so many dreams and a drive to change everything he saw as unjust. But the world had taken him in its fist and squeezed the convictions out of him. It had forced him into the mold of a soldier. Forced him to comply. Killed off Greta, killed her message.

           But Tommy wasn’t dead yet. There was a new fire lit inside of him. “Politics, laws, parties. It doesn’t matter. You can’t win if you play by their rules.”

           “So, what are you-”

           He began to walk back down the path, still holding her hand. “Everything will be alright.” He promised her. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The two went back to the Yard to bring the children home with them. Charlie was still taking refuge in the shade, smoking a pipe and watching Annie running around in the mud.

           “You found him then.” He commented as Amelia and Tommy came up to him.

           “Not a lot of places you can hide in Small Heath,” Tommy replied to his uncle.

           “I hope they weren’t a fuss, Charlie.” Amelia ignored her husband’s glib response.

           “I’ll tell you what, that boy of yours is just like you, Tom,” Charlie remarked. “Full of energy but once he’s around a horse, he’s quiet as a mouse.”

           “I’m sure you taught him well then.”

           “I didn’t teach him anything.” He shook his head. “Must be the Traveler blood in him.”  

           “He doesn’t have Traveler blood, Charlie,” Tommy muttered in reply.

           “Well, then it’s fucking intuition, hell if I know.” His uncle rolled his eyes, his pipe still tucked between his lips as he spoke.

           “Hell, if you know.” Tommy shook his head. “You better not have been teaching him that kind of fucking language.” He warned before heading toward the horse stalls to find Max.

           “That one has Traveler blood in her.” Charlie pointed his pipe toward Annie. The little girl had ruined her skirt by stomping around in the mud by the canal. She had a loose hold on her teddy bear that seemed just as filthy from the morning’s play.

           “You think?”

           “Reminds me of Pol when she was little. An absolute terror but you’d be happy to see her come around. Max will be a gifted rider, like Tom. But Annie won’t back down from a challenge, no matter how many times she’s bucked off.”

           The thought of her precious daughter being bucked off a horse was a nightmare to Amelia. But she knew that there was no forcing Annie into being someone she wasn’t. Amelia knew that all too well. Her family wanted her to be a lady of high society. They wanted her to be proper, educated but not too educated, and a million miles beyond Small Heath. But she was aware that she was a girl of lower class. Her upbringing was nothing compared to the socialites in London. She ran the streets with the Shelbys much to her parents’ discontent. And while she wasn’t as fierce and feisty as Tommy and Arthur, she didn’t mind living in Small Heath. She loved the people there.

           The more her parents pushed, the more she rebelled. In London, she felt empty. She had no friends because all the girls her age were boring to her. London felt cold and desolate to her. Sure, the place they lived in was nicer, but it didn’t matter.

           So, if Annie wanted to be a wild girl who flocked to dangerous horses, then there really wasn’t a thing Amelia could do about it. Not with Tommy’s blood in her.

~~~~~~~~~~

           “Not even half a year since he’s come back and you’re already up the duff, again.”

           Martha and Amelia snickered behind their hands. It was true. Martha was pregnant again and Polly was bewildered by the revelation.

           “Oh, Pol, it’s okay.” Amelia smiled. "It was bound to happen once John came back."

           “You and John are getting your own flat, or I'll get my own. I’ve had more than enough newborns in this house at one time.” Polly replied firmly.

           “I suppose that’s only fair.” Martha agreed. Six Watery Lane had become quite the den of rascals. “At least John is home and can help me with the other two."

           “And make sure he does. Those three have been working themselves to death.” Polly shook her head in disapproval. “And it’s all Tommy’s doing.” She glanced at Amelia.

           “I think they’re just trying to find their place in the world again.” Amelia shrugged. “Remember when they were gone? We had to adapt to the world. Now they do too.”

           Polly didn’t look convinced. “When a Shelby man is working like the devil, that means there’s going to be trouble.” She warned.

           It did speak to the conversation she and Tommy had earlier in the graveyard. “He did seem to have some plans.” She admitted. “But he didn’t say what.”

           Polly continued to smoke by the kitchen table where Amelia and Martha were sitting. “One can only guess what goes on in that head of his.”

           Amelia looked down at her lap. As his wife, she thought she would be the one to know. But she felt just as blind as the rest of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           It was a rare night, but one that Amelia rejoiced in having. After dinner, she got the kids washed up and put in bed. After Tommy kissed them each goodnight, he returned to the master bedroom and caught Amelia before she even made it to her vanity.

           Without a word, he kissed her deeply. He pressed her up against the door as he locked it to avoid any awkward situations if one of the children wandered in unannounced.

           It was so easy for Amelia to forget everything when Tommy held her. She could rejoice in the fact that in those brief moments, she was taken care of. There was nothing to interrupt them, nothing to cause them harm, it was just the two of them. They were the moments Amelia yearned for when he was in France. The moments where she could keep him close and cast aside the ugliness of the world.      

           But the feeling couldn’t last and they were brought back to Earth as the night wore on. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company in the dead hours of the night. Amelia curled up in the crook of his arm, tracing the new scars on his chest that he’d obtained in the trenches. He held her close as he smoked.

           Eventually, he broke the silence and uttered a rare confession to her. “I’m going to do bad things, Mel.”

           The admission sent a chill up her spine. Yet, it was something she already knew. Something she’d known even in childhood when adults would comment on Tommy’s proclivity for mischief. When they remarked how his father was nothing but a waste of space. When they speculated how Tommy would live up to the Shelby name. A name cursed.

           “I know.” She whispered. From then on, she was complicit. Her wish to stay in Small Heath as a child had brought her to that point. Her wishes for Tommy to stay out of danger had fallen upon deaf ears as she should’ve realized. But if she wanted a quiet, polite, bland husband, she would’ve stayed in London to marry one. Instead, she was with someone who was destined to be one of the most dangerous men in Britain.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @shelbyblinded @hanster1998 @xxbeckybeexx-blog @fairypitou

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PB Masterlist

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace - chapter 10

A Manorian High School AU

Words: 4150

AO3 Link

Masterlist

TW: Descriptions of violence and abuse

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

A/N: Hello!

First, I would like to say that I am very sorry for taking a long, but necessary break from this fic. Turns out my mental health doesn't like doing nothing for two months straight...Please accept my apology in form of this long-as-fuck chapter:)

Secondly, this chapter is far from perfect, but I have to admit, I'm kinda proud of myself with this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it:)

Lastly, thank you so much to everyone who likes, shares, reblogs reads, comments etc. I couldn't have continued this fic without you<3

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I know that you’re hiding

I know there’s a part of you that I just cannot reach

You don’t have to let me in

-Florence + The Machine, Hiding

«Asterin, stop.»

Manon’s cousin turned at the angry tone, stopping on her way out the door. She was schooling her features into the usual look of ignorant bliss, and it annoyed Manon to no end. How the hell could she pretend to be so calm when the world was turned upside down three weeks ago?

«What?» Asterin replied, smiling as if everything was fine. Manon pretended not to see how the smile faltered slightly, how Asterin’s jaw visibly tightened, her breath quickening. A crack in the perfect foundation.

Crossing her arms, Manon leaned against the wall, giving her cousin a glare. «We need to talk,» Manon said, her voice demanding.

She couldn’t believe how three weeks had passed, and they still hadn’t talked about the fact that Asterin had been knocked up by her boyfriend. The morning after finding out the news, Manon had woken up to an empty house and a note from Asterin saying she was at Hunter’s. The following three weeks Asterin had managed to never stay in the same room as Manon for long enough to have a proper conversation. It was infuriating.

«Talk about what?» Astrerin replied, a sickening look of confusion on her face.

«You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.»

«That’s not your problem to worry about.» Asterin was about to pick up her bag and head out the door once more, but Manon managed to slam it shut in time, blocking her cousin’s path.

«It became my problem the second you asked me to hide it from our grandmother,» Manon hissed at her. «You can’t just come into my room in the middle of the night, crying, and tell me that you’re pregnant, for then to pretend nothing happened!»

Asterin still faced the door, avoiding Manon’s eyes. «I am dealing with it,» she whispered, finally turning around.

Manon’s anger faded a little at the look of utter defeat on her cousin’s face. Her whole body sagged against the closed door, silver lining her eyes.

«Do you-» Manon hesitated, letting out a long sigh, «Do you need me to go with you? To the appointment?»

«What appointment?» The confusion on Asterin’s face was real this time.

«The abortion?»

Manon might as well have slapped her cousin by the way her head shot up, eyes narrowed, mouth formed into a tight line, hands balled into fists.

«You’re not keeping it, are you? Are you insane?!» Manon yelled. She couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation.

«That’s none of your business,» Asterin said, voice cold. And the way she was staring down Manon…she had never felt so small.

«You’re seventeen!» Manon was certain her cousin had actually lost her mind. She couldn’t be serious about this. A baby…they were still, technically, children themselves. And if their grandmother found out, when their grandmother found out…

Shaking her head, Asterin said, «So? And for the millionth time, this isn’t your problem. I can-»

«It is my problem when you expect me to lie to our grandmother every day! It is my problem when I have to explain why you’re hurling your guts up every morning, or why you’re never around anymore! Do you want me to keep lying when your belly gets all round? Or when you have an actual, living baby to take care of?»

Manon was screaming now, but she didn’t care.

«You’re not gonna tell her, are you?» Asterin looked scared, and Manon could see that she was shaking a little. Manon was shaking too, but not with fear.

«I-» Manon began, groaning in frustration. «I just don’t know what you think is gonna happen? You’ll just have a baby at seventeen and then you and Hunter and your baby will be a happy little family? That’s not how the world works.»

Asterin was tapping her foot against the floor, clearly pissed. «My mom was only seventeen when she had me.»

«And you see how well that went…How long has it been since she called you, Asterin?»

The words slipped from her mouth before she had time to think. It was a low blow, and Manon knew it. Unlike Manon, Asterin actually knew her mother, had lived with her for eight years, until the woman one day just dropped Asterin off at her grandmother’s house. In the beginning, she often called, even visited, but Manon had no idea when Asterin had last heard from her mother. It wasn’t something they talked about.

Her cousin’s eyes were focused on the floor, and when she finally looked up, her expression cold and empty, it sent a chill down Manon’s spine.

«I’m gonna go now, before I say something I’ll regret.» Asterin’s voice was devoid of any emotion.

«And where are you going?» Manon breathed.

«To be with my boyfriend, who actually cares about how I feel.»

Manon tried calling after her, but Asterin was out the door in a heartbeat, nearly slamming it in Manon’s face.

They couldn’t keep going like this. It was driving her crazy, the hiding, the lying, the tiptoeing. All of it, just to postpone the inevitable.

Because their grandmother was bound to find out at some point, and when she did, all hell would break loose. Manon could feel it, the wave of impending doom, coming closer and closer.

What was Asterin thinking? She was ruining her life. Everything their grandmother had done for them, to make sure they got into college, to make sure they didn’t end up like their own mothers - one of them dead and the other doing god knows what - and Asterin was throwing it all away.

Letting out another groan of frustration, Manon slammed her fists against the wall, head following suit. How could she? How could Asterin put them in this situation?

All the stress and guilt and worrying was eating her alive. She’d stopped sleeping at night, couldn’t focus at dance practice anymore, could barely keep up with her classes.

She had also began avoiding Dorian. Had outright ghosted him from the moment Asterin crawled into her bed, crying.

Thinking about it, she had been acting a lot like Asterin, with the way she refused to talk to him, never staying in the same room as Dorian for long enough to have a proper conversation.

It had been a mistake, all of it. The texting, the hanging out, the fucking playlist!

He’d stopped texting her about a week ago. Picking up her phone, Manon began scrolling through the thread.

Manon: Here’s the playlist. It’s best enjoyed if you listen to it in the right order.

Dorian: Sorry for not replying til now but I heard through the entire thing and fine you were right I hadn’t heard any of it before and yes you do have fantastic taste in music pls send me more!!!!!

Dorian: Are u awake?

Dorian: I listened to your playlist again…Damn you have good taste in music;)

Dorian: You left the classroom so quick today I didn’t have the time to talk to you, wanna get lunch?

Dorian: I really liked that playlist….

Dorian: Can we talk? Whenever you’re available…

Dorian: Have I done something wrong?

Dorian: Pls just answer me…

Dorian: I’m gonna stop texting you now, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about what the fuck is going on…

Manon felt awful for avoiding him like this, not even giving him an explanation, but her life was a complete mess, and it was better to end things before Dorian realized it too. It would hurt less that way.

But Manon thought about him often. Missed him, even. She tried not to think about what it might mean.

Footsteps sounded outside, and thinking it was Asterin, Manon whirled around to confront her cousin once more, only to be met by the stern eyes of her grandmother.

The surprise must have been written on Manon’s face, because the woman in front of her said, «Expecting someone else?»

«No, I was just surprised. I thought you were coming home tomorrow,» Manon said, quickly shaking her head.

Her grandmother looked her over, always searching, assessing, judging. «And how have things been going while I was away?»

Plastering a reassuring smile on her face, Manon replied, «Good. The usual. I got an A on that history test I told you about.»

«Hm,» was her grandmothers only response, Manon’s smile faltering. «And the dancing?»

Manon swallowed, looking at her feet. «Getting there.»

«That is not good enough, and you know it, Manon.» She still didn’t look at her grandmother.

«I know, I’ll do better, I promise. It’s just…school has been very stressful lately.»

«That is not an acceptable excuse.»

«Yes, grandmother. I’ll do better.» Her heart was racing, palms sweaty.

«LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!» Flinching, Manon lifted her head, focusing her eyes on the wall beside her grandmother, unable to meet the furious stare.

The woman stormed over to where Manon was standing, grabbing her chin so hard Manon was sure it would bruise. Manon finally willed her eyes to meet those of her grandmother.

«Pathetic, utterly pathetic,» her grandmother said, voice low. She clicked her tongue, and let go of Manon.

«I will go into my office now, and when I come back out, you better be out of sight.»

And with that, she was gone, her office door slamming shut.

Bringing her arms around herself to stop the shaking, Manon couldn’t help the sigh of relief escaping her lips.

At least she hadn’t asked about Asterin.

-

Standing in front of Aelin’s house, Dorian had no idea how he’d actually gotten there. All he knew, was that he couldn’t take more of his parents’ fighting, that he had to get out, had to rant about it to someone.

The past three weeks had been stressful, to say the least. His parents were fighting more than ever and the load of homework, tests and assignments they were given at school seemed to never end.

Then there was Manon…Out of the blue, she’d stopped talking to him, stopped responding to his texts, making sure they never stayed in the same room for long.

He had tried catching up with her after class, had tried approaching her in the hallway, but he’d been unsuccessful. At least until today.

«Can we talk?»

Manon startled, turning around to find Dorian leaning against the lockers.

«I’m late for class,» she mumbled, eyes on the floor.

«Bullshit,» Dorian said, crossing his arms. «Class starts in 15 minutes.»

«I can’t-» Manon began, but she never finished, instead turning around once more to leave him.

Fuck, Dorian thought, chasing her through the hallway like some stalker.

«Manon! Wait!» he called after her, trying to keep up with her fast pace. She finally stopped right before the door to their classroom, tapping her foot impatiently.

«Can we just talk? Please.» She still didn’t look at him.

Dorian sighed, trying to meet her gaze. «Did I do something wrong?»

«No,» she whispered, the word barely audible. Manon looked up, but her eyes still didn’t meet his.

She looked tired, dark circles framing those golden eyes. And they weren’t their usual, glowing color today, more like a dulled version of it.

Unease settled deep in Dorian’s stomach. Carefully, he asked, «Did something happen?»

«What makes you think that?» she asked hurriedly, her tone angry. Her eyes finally met his, shooting him a deadly glare.

Before Dorian had the chance to explain, Manon said, «I don’t have time to play friends with you, which I told you, so please stop bothering me, and leave me the fuck alone!»

Dorian couldn’t move, could only stare as she turned around and walked away.

He had known for a while what he felt for her. Had known he wanted to be more than just friends. Had hoped they could be more than friends.

But Dorian just stood there, leaning against the wall, and watched that hope disappear into the crowd along with a white ponytail.

That conversation was maybe the biggest reason why he was now knocking on Aelin’s door. Dorian desperately needed advice, the kind only Aelin could give.

«Dorian! What are you doing here?»

Lost in his brooding, Dorian hadn’t noticed Aelin opening the door. She made her way over to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Drawing apart, Dorian saw that she was wearing her boots and jacket. «You’re on your way out, aren’t you?»

Aelin shook her head, her eyes worried as she took in his somber state. «I was gonna meet Rowan, but I think you need me more right now.»

Dorian was about to protest, but Aelin beat him to it. «He’ll understand.»

With that, he followed her inside, escaping the chilly autumn wind. There was no point in arguing with his friend, she was the most stubborn person he knew.

Dragging him into the kitchen, Aelin asked, «Is it an ‘eat ice cream and cry’ kind of crisis you’re having?»

«I think so,» he said, but Aelin was already digging through the freezer, not bothering to wait for an answer.

«Dorian! Haven’t seen you in a while,» Evalin Ashryver Galathynius said as she made her way into the kitchen, cheery as ever.

«Weren’t you gonna see Rowan?» Aelin’s mom asked her daughter while pouring herself a glass of wine.

«Change of plans,» Aelin shrugged.

«Good. I missed having Dorian around.» As she said that, she squeezed his shoulder, the gesture so motherly Dorian had to try very hard not to cry.

He had always been jealous of how affectionate Aelin’s parents were, so unlike his own.

«Is school busy these days?» Aelin gave him a warning glare, as if to say, «Don’t answer that! She’ll never stop talking!»

Dorian looked Aelin straight in the eye as he smirked and said, «Very.»

Evelin leaned against the counter, sipping her drink. «Ugh, you kids have so much pressure these days.» Aelin rolled her eyes.

«I mean it, when I was in high school-,»

«Here she goes…» Aelin said, low enough for only Dorian to hear.

«I can’t remember us ever sitting up half the night with homework. We got to be wild teenagers, you know, your dad and I-»

«Okay, we don’t wanna hear about you and dad, bye mom!» Aelin said as she bolted out of the room, grabbing Dorian’s hand and pulling him with her.

«Wait!» Evalin called after them. The pair turned to see her holding the bottle of wine.

«If you promise to not tell your father, you can have what’s left of this.» Aelin’s mother winked at the wicked grin appearing on her daughter’s face.

Aelin snatched the bottle, yelling «THANKS MOM YOU’RE THE BEST!» while making her way towards her room. Dorian followed suit, shutting the door.

«So, spill,» Aelin said, flinging herself down on the bed.

«I don’t know, it’s just been a lot, lately,» Dorian sighed, not knowing where to even begin.

«Your parents fighting again?»

That was one of the things he loved the most about Aelin. She always seemed to know what he was thinking, voicing the difficult words so he didn’t have to do it himself.

He let his head fall into his hands, groaning. «I know it’s awful, but sometimes I wish they would just get divorced.»

Aelin gave him a grim smile, passing him the wine bottle. Dorian took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste.

Searching him with her gaze, Aelin said quietly, «But that’s not the only thing on your mind, is it?» Damn her, and her ability to see right through him.

Dorian took a deep breath, before saying, «I made a new friend…»

«A friend, huh?» Aelin gave him a knowing smile, and Dorian could feel his cheeks turning pink.

«Yes, a friend,» he said, punctuating the last word. «We’ve been hanging out a lot, and for a while it was all great, but then she suddenly stopped talking to me and I don’t know why.»

Hard as it was, it felt good to let it all out.

«Wait, you said she? Is it someone I know,» Aelin asked, raising an eyebrow. Dorian tried handing her the wine, but she shook her head, giving him a look that said, You need it more than I do.

Dorian thought about it for a long second, debating whether he should tell Aelin the truth or not. He recalled her words from earlier, «I had PE with her last year, and I swear to god, she has the emotional range of a teaspoon.»

Remembering that comment, he suddenly felt a wave of anger rush through him. Aelin had been wrong. In fact, he was certain Manon felt more than most people.

When he didn’t answer, Aelin pushed further, «Is it someone from school?»

«It’s Manon Blackbeak,» he mumbled, words barely audible.

But Aelin had heard him, because she jumped up, a look of utter disbelief on her face. «You’ve been hanging out with MANON BLACKBEAK!?!?»

«Do you have to yell?» Dorian whispered, but Aelin didn’t hear him.

«HOW?!» she yelled even louder, throwing her arms in the air.

Giving her a glare, Dorian said, «If you please calm down, I’ll tell you everything.»

And he did, from the very beginning. Dorian told her about the project, about the bantering, about the hanging out, about the playlist, all of it, and Aelin stayed unusually still the entire time.

When he was done, she looked up at him and said, «She does seem like the person to do just that. Letting you think you’re friends and then just cut you out.»

«But you don’t know her,» Dorian tried. Aelin merely gave him a pointed look that said, And you do?

Dorian shrugged. «She didn’t seem like herself earlier today. Something was bothering her…But who knows, maybe she simply learned how much of a socially awkward loser I actually am and decided I wasn’t worth it.»

He had no idea where that last part came from, but it felt good to say it out loud.

«Oh, Dorian! Don’t you ever think that,» Aelin told him, shaking her head. «You’re literally one of the most amazing people I know, and anyone who gets to have you as their friend is the luckiest person in the world.» She was all serious, stern, even.

Holding back the tears gathering in his eyes, Dorian pulled Aelin into a tight hug. «Thank you,» he whispered.

«No problem. And if something was bothering her, I’m sure she’ll come talk to you again when she’s ready.» Aelin bit her lip, hesitating. «Are you sure you’re just friends?»

«Yes,» Dorian exhaled. «But-»

«But you wish you were more.»

He could only nod.

They stayed silent for a moment, before Aelin spoke once more. «You know, I only have guy friends, so I’m pretty shit at giving advice on things like this.»

They were lying in opposite ends of the bed now, facing one another. «I think you did pretty good,» Dorian said to reassure her.

«I still need to get some girl friends I think. I tried ranting to Chaol the other day about the trials and tribulations of living with a bitchy uterus, and I have never seen someone leave a room so fast.»

Dorian brought out his signature smirk, saying, «You can talk to me about your period any day, Aelin.»

Aelin stuck out her tongue in response, and for the first time in many, many days, Dorian laughed.

-

Manon opened the text from Asterin once more, reading the words.

Won’t make it to practice today:/ Talk when you get home?<3

Looking at it, she couldn’t t help but feel a little bad for how she’d acted earlier. They could discuss this in a civilized manner, hopefully coming to a solution that didn’t involve their grandmother in any way.

Manon shivered at the memory of a hand grabbing her cheek. She’d been right, it had bruised, and she’d had to wake up half an hour earlier today to cover it up with makeup.

A knot formed in her stomach. How could she think such things of her grandmother, who only wanted the best for her?

Surrounded by darkness, she made her way towards the house, the air cold around her. Fall had finally settled over their small town.

As she made the final steps towards the door, she wondered why the lights were off. Surely Asterin would be up, waiting for her?

Unable to shake off the feeling of unease, Manon carefully opened the door. «Asterin?» she called into the darkness.

Her bag landed on the floor with a thud, the sound echoing through the room.

«Do you have something you want to tell me?»

Manon jumped at the sound of her grandmother, turning on the lights to reveal her sitting in the living room.

Her heart started racing at the quiet rage coming from the woman. Her brows were slightly furrowed, eyes glowing with fury, her mouth forming a tight line. Judging by how calm she was, Manon knew she was pissed.

«N-no, grandmother,» Manon stammered, looking at her feet.

Her grandmother stood up, slowly making her way towards Manon. «Don’t. Fucking. Lie.» she spat, her voice shaking with anger.

The slap hit her before she had time to react, her cheek stinging at the contact. Manon could feel blood slowly starting to trickle, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t so much as breathe.

«How long have you known?» Manon still didn’t move, only stared at the wall in front of her, completely paralyzed. She must have found out…Manon had to find Asterin, had to make sure she was okay…

«HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?!»

Quickly shaking her head, Manon tried to think of a way to get her grandmother to calm down, tried to find the right words. «I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,» she breathed.

The sound of her grandmother’s cold laugh filled the empty house, followed by the sound of her palm against Manon’s other cheek. Her head jerked to the side, staying there.

Her grandmother leaned in close, and Manon closed her eyes as she felt a warm breath on her face. «I have done everything for the two of you,» she hissed, «and this is how you thank me?! Going behind my back, lying and deceiving. You should be glad you’re not on the street right now, like that whore of a cousin you have.» She made a face of disgust.

«I’m sorry,» Manon whispered, as her grandmother took a step back.

«Here is what’s going to happen,» the woman said. «From now on, if you make so much as a single mistake, I’ll kick you out. Your grades, your dancing, everything, will be perfect. Understand?»

Manon nodded, lowering her head.

«And that slut…She’s off the dance team, and if I hear you talk to her, so much as look at her, I’ll make you regret it. Am I being clear?»

Manon nodded again.

«AM I BEING CLEAR?!» Trying her best not to flinch at the raised voice, Manon managed to stammer, «Y-yes g-grandmother.»

Her grandmother clicked her tongue, shaking her head. «I truly thought you could be different from your mother, better. How wrong I was.»

The words stung almost as much as her cheeks.

«Now go to your room, I don’t think I can stomach looking at you anymore.»

«Yes grandmother,» she said obediently, hurrying down the hall.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Manon’s shaking body fell to the floor.

Around her, in her head, everywhere, it was going too fast, too much. The rush of blood, the way her lungs couldn’t get enough air no matter how hard she tried, the throbbing of her cheeks, the echoing of her grandmother’s disappointed words.

I truly thought you could be different from your mother, better. How wrong I was.

She had to be better, had to do better, had to-

Manon forced her breathing into an even rhythm. She had to stay focused from now on. No more distractions.

Manon didn’t notice how she’d stopped shaking, didn’t noticed the blood crusted on her cheek, didn’t notice the stillness of the world, didn’t notice how Abraxos placed his head in her lap, looking up at her with sad eyes.

She had no idea if minutes or hours or days had passed as she reached over to the headphones carelessly slung on the floor. Putting them on and pressing play, Manon drifted away to that distant place of hers, disappearing, dissolving. If only for a little while.

Lay me down

Let the only sound

Be the overflow

Pockets full of stone

-Florence + The Machine, What The Water Gave Me

[staruplatinum]

Since Risotto was requested multiple times for the nsfw alphabet, I decided to do the whole thing for him. (And because he’s my fave and I’m biased 🤷🏻‍♀️🖤)

Full nsfw alphabet (A-Z ) for Risotto Nero below the cut!

A = Aftercare

He’s very concerned for his s/o always after sex. Massages, Baths, tea...Anything they need he will do for them, no matter what it is. Even if La Squadra keeps him busy, he values your aftercare more and will do what he can to help.

B = Body part

On himself, he really likes his chest. He works out almost every day to keep his physique so nice, and he likes when people look at it or appreciate it. He also, obviously, likes his cock. It’s something he’s very proud of but he doesn’t boast about it. (That cock is legendary)

On his s/o, he loves tiny physiques, mainly because he has a size kink. (Lets be real here though, most people are going to be tiny compared to him!) he also appreciates people’s eyes, as he believes that eyes are the key to ones soul. If we’re talking sexually, he has a thing for asses. He loves to grab them with his big hands, or even spank them.

C = cum

Risotto doesn’t really have a prefrence as to where he cums. It all depends on the moment. If you’re giving him a blowjob, he’ll be happy to cum down your throat or on your face. If he’s fucking you, he’s fine with cumming inside, mainly because he’s a little lazy to pull out. But as I said, there’s no real preference. He cums a lot!! Way more than average, and his cum tastes kind of salty, but it’s not unpleasant.

D = dirty secret

Once he used his stand to help him camouflage in his s/o’s room, only to find them masturbating and moaning his name over and over. Risotto felt awful and embarrassed for watching them (without them knowing) but he was also glad he did. It turned him on so much seeing his beloved s/o beg for him like that, wishing he was there. If only they knew...

E = Experience

He has plenty. I mean, he’s 28 years old so it’s only normal that he’d have sex a few times. He knows what he’s doing!

F = favourite position

Risotto likes a lot of positions — but he’s limited to what he can do. Especially because of his size. He’s really tall, so 69 won’t work out. He is also very aware at the size of his cock (9&1/2inches) so he knows full well that most positions won’t work out.(he wouldn’t want to hurt his s/o!) Because of that, he mainly just lets his s/o ride him, or he’ll fuck them from behind in doggy style.

G = Goofy

Hard to believe, but Risotto can be ‘goofy’ in a sense, especially if you two have been together a while. He wants sex to be enjoyable for both of you and isn’t afraid to let loose when you are doing the act. Don’t be fooled though, he’s still the goth capo(tm) and he has to keep up the facade. The most you get out of him is a faint chuckle followed by “youre so cute, Tesoro.”

H = hair

It was said somewhere that risotto’s natural hair colour is dark brown? So I’d like to think that his body hairs would be the same. Regardless, the hairs are small and sparse. He likes to keep a clean shave most of the time, but for the most part he just trims. On his partner he’s not too picky with body hair, but a clean shave would be much preferred.

I = Intimacy

It depends on the situation! Risotto doesn’t tend to do one night stands but he has in the past. And in those situations he only wants a quick fuck and then wants the person gone. If he’s in a relationship, he’s extremely intimate. He likes the more dominating positions but there’s times where he just wants to be close to his s/o. Missionary is his go-to for that. He’ll kiss you, whisper how beautiful you are in Italian and tell you how much he loves you. Of course, he’s only like this in private and if he has been with you for a while.

J = Jack off

If he’s not in a Relationship risotto jacks off before bed. Not every night, but most nights he will. Either in the bed or the shower.

Once he has a s/o, he doesn’t really feel the need to. Unless his s/o is away on a mission (or vice versa) and he really misses them.

K = Kink

Size kink ! Need I say more? He’s 6”8, so most people would be tinyer than him anyways. He just loves seeing his big form cover your tiny one!

He loves to see stomach bulges. When he’s fucking his s/o, it will make him go absolutely feral if he sees his dick making your stomach bulge just from it’s sheer size.

To an extent, BDSM though he isn’t into the whole concept of it. If anything he just likes to tie your hands behind your back, and tie your ankles to the bed post while he goes down on you. (Or fucks you!)

He has a thing for being praised. He likes to be called “Capo” and “Signore” in bed. It really gets him going. Even if you call him “daddy”, that will also turn him on.

He likes to degrade you but in a nice way? Almost like teasing? You’ll hear him say a lot of things like “you take your capo’s cock so well, look at you”

He has a Knife play kink as well. It turns him on like crazy if his s/o is in black lingerie and is using a sharp knife to drag down their body, threatening to cut the fine lace. 🔪

L = Location

Risotto prefers to fuck you in the privacy of his own home (or yours). In general he keeps a lot to himself so fucking you in public wouldn’t get him off (especially because he’s a feared assassin in Passione. He can’t be seen fucking you in a public restroom). The only other place he wouldn’t mind fucking you is his office! - of course (as you’ll see for the letter R = Risk) that comes with the risk of the other La Squadra members seeing you, but risotto trusts them and considers them family. So it doesn’t really matter.

M = Motivation

Risotto is a very busy man, so majority of the time you will have to get him off or grab his attention. Walking into his office and wearing a skirt with no panties is definitely one way. He loves the “innocent” look you have as you bend over - showing him all your ass. He might just grab you then and there — pushing your little form into his desk as he grabs your hips and fucks you hard.

As mentioned in kinks, another way to turn him on is by;

Wearing black (or white) lingerie

Playing with knives

Sexting him (sending nudes, etc)

N = No

He’s not into sharing. What’s his is his. He also won’t do water sports, scat or vore. He likes blood play to a small extent but he’s also turned off by it considering he sees so much blood with his job & his stand.

O = Oral

A god at giving oral, he will go down on you as long as he can. Teasing you, licking you, using his fingers.. he knows all the tricks to make you come undone!

When receiving oral, he likes when his s/o struggles to take his full length down their throat. He’ll praise them, “come on Bella, I know you can take more than that...” before shoving his cock down their throat. Deepthroating you is one of his favourite past times. ;)

P = Pace

He prefers long drawn out thrusts over fast thrusts, but he is very mailable and can go at whatever pace his s/o prefers! Of course though, when it comes to fast paces he’s very cautious at how hard he goes, mainly because of his size. He wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt you.

Q = quickie

Isn’t fond of them, he likes when both partners can finish. However, if he has a meeting with La Squadra, he’ll probably bend you over his desk and fuck you hard enough before the rest of his team walks in...

R = Risk

He kind of likes the fact that if he fucks his s/o in his office, he carries the risk that any of the La Squadra members can just walk right in. In a way, it turns him on, though , he isn’t really into voyerism. On the other hand, if his s/o is female, he kind of likes to cum inside her when she isn’t using protection. The rush it gives him is insane, but he knows that’s stupid of him to do especially if she becomes pregnant. It’s more of a fantasy, if anything.

S = Stamina

Goth Capo can last a while, but when he does cum, his refractory period is long. He needs about 20-30 minutes before he can go again. However, when you’re having sex, since he can last so long, you’re guaranteed to have at least two orgasms in that time. He’ll make sure of it.

T = Toys

He doesn’t have any for himself, but he’s willing to buy/ make some (with metallica! ;D ) for his s/o. He does own some rope though, if that counts.

U = Unfair

Risotto can be unfair at times. If his s/o has been bad, he can go down on them for hours. Edging them until they are crying for him to let them cum. However, he’s a very busy man so that rarely happens.

V = Volume

He’s quiet in bed. He makes an occasional grunt here and there, and you’ll hear a few Italian cuss words slip from under his breath as well. He likes to talk to you though! So expect a lot of praise “ah, yes Tesoro. You’re so tight—“

W = wild card

Risotto has always wanted to stuff his s/o’s holes with metal toys that he made using metallica. Just seeing their mouth, ass and/or pussy being filled is so hot to him.

X = X-ray

At his size, it would be silly to say his dick is under 8”. When Risotto is fully hard, his cock can get to 9 and a half inches, and it’s very thick. Unless you’re bigger than him, chances are that your hand will just barely be able to wrap around it. Since his dick is quite big, it’s only natural for it to point downwards. Since most Italians aren’t cut, neither is he. He’s uncircumcised, and his dick is a couple of shades darker than his skin tone! He also has really big balls.

Y = Yearning

He’s a grown man so he does want sex often, however, due to his job he has to suppress his sex drive a LOT.

Z = Zzzz Sleep!

When he’s not too pent up with La Squadra stuff, he can fall asleep really quick! Of course, he’ll need to hold his s/o and spoon with them. If he’s busy or stressed with up coming missions then after sex hell honestly just wait until you fall asleep before he gets back to his work. It’s sad, but it’s the price he’s got to pay as a Capo!

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 19: Leonardo Makar Jakoby

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18

Note:  before you read this chapter, i'd like to share with you the song that helped shape and bring this piece of writing together, and if you have the patience i hope you'll take a listen and further understand the emotions i intended with this 💛

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The front door swung open faster than she intended, but Callie couldn’t stand to be under the glaring sun and heavy humidity a moment longer. Her locks were frizzed and sticking to her neck and shoulders, and sweat was lining her honey skin in droplets when she stepped into the cool house.

“Oh god, close the blinds,” she lamented, waddling through the kitchen to stick her flushed face in front of the freezer. “Next time I’ll just do laps around the house,”

“Yeah I can get on board with that,” Nick called from under the vent in the living room, his shirt left hanging on the back of the couch.

Her forehead bounced against her arm rested on the fridge, staring down at her stomach. “Please come out,” she groaned. “I can’t get any bigger,”

“We could try sex again,” Nick simpered, leering over his shoulder.

“I’m sweating,”

“We’re sweating,” Nick snorted.

When she at last stepped from the fridge, she brought with her a bowl of homemade deep red salsa that had sat long enough for the shimmering oil to be seen pooling at the top. She hastily and with little care unwound the nearly empty bag of tortilla chips on the counter, plunging a chip into the dip.  

“That’s gonna make you sweat more,” he bravely commented, joining her across the bar and dipping his own chip that piled pitifully compared to her towering bites.

She swayed and pulled air in harshly between her teeth as she chewed, an eye pinched shut and hands flailing.

“You’re gonna give yourself lethal heartburn,”

“If it gets him out I’ll deal with it,” she coughed, going in for another bite.

“You still have three days baby,” Nick reminded, wincing at his own bite of the searing salsa.

“I’m not taking any chances. I can do this,” she too reminded, her gaze harder than her words.

“No one is doubting that,”

“But everyone is expecting otherwise,” she murmured, snapping the lid back onto the jalapeño tupperware. She wouldn’t look up again, but he didn’t need to see her face to recognize the discouragement drooping her shoulders.

Nick chewed his last chip and dusted his hands of any crumbs before jogging around the wall and into the kitchen, immediately holding wrapping her in a tight embrace from behind. “I know you can do it,”

“I know you know,” she sighed, finally leaning back into his chest with her head on his shoulder.

He listened to her chew on the crunchy jalapeños and chips, his lips against her shoulder and rocking side to side. “He’s really going today,”

“Since this morning,” she added, moaning when he dragged his hands across her stomach, alleviating the insane itching that plagued her night and day. Her frame melted in his arms, tossing aside the last bite she couldn’t bare one more of with her mouth already feeling like fire.

When her fingers laced behind his neck, a low growl vibrated through his chest, his caresses wandering higher.

“I have time before I go in,” he groused.

“That walk wiped me out,” she sighed, curling her spine ever so slightly despite being ready for a nap. The implication alone got her blood boiling in a way she didn’t mind despite her wiser half protesting at anymore physical exertion.

“I’ll do the work,” he rumbled, angling her jaw to stop her low whine. “You just worry about enjoying it,”

“It’s gonna be work, you gotta help me get him out,” she murmured in defeat, her breath catching when he massaged a tender breast through the dress.

He chuckled into her hair, a burly arm supporting her up when two thick fingers slipped under her dress and panties. “I know what I’m doing.”

It was too good.

The haze she floated in, the fan blowing across her naked, spent body, the cold sheets she was lost in; the kisses she opened her eyes too when she felt Nick’s impression on the bed beside her.

It was all too good.

 “Time to go already?” she asked softly, her hands feeling his unbuttoned uniform shirt before her heavy eyes opened.

“Mhm,” he toned into the top of her breast. “It’s a half shift today,”

“You’ll be home for dinner?”

He nodded, exclaiming sorely once standing.

“Frijoladas?” she asked, rolling on her side with a pillow ready to stuff under her stomach.

“Oo, hell yeah,” he grinned, stepping into his slides. “You stay pregnant until I’m home,” he pointed, his tone grave.

“I think he’s too comfortable in there,”

“Good. Keep him in there until tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow?” her brows furrowed.

“It’s my day off,” he grinned cheekily.

“Don’t get shot,” she said into the pillow she embraced, breathing in Nick’s cologne.

“I’m too quick.” He teased, bouncing around a couple times to rile some giggles. With a final kiss shot her way, Nick was shuffling down the hall towards the door and grabbing his bag, then keys, and groaning against the assaulting summer heat once outside. It only made him want to slink back into the dark, cool room with Callie, but regardless of whether there was a c-section in three days or she managed to get Leo out beforehand, he had five days worth of time to spend with the two whenever he decided to make his debut.

Just the thought had Nick shaking his hands loose of the tremble they’d steadily maintained.

Everything was set and ready for his arrival, but counting down the minutes made the wait excruciating, and if Nick was being honest, he wanted him out weeks ago. The daily barrage of texts from friends and family asking is he here yet!? were not so much a pain, but hourly reminders that he had no control over his sons awaited birth, and that another day had gone by without him in his arms.

 Even if I’ve been fucking her three times a day, he thought bitterly.

He’d been promised from all directions that sex would do the trick, but all either had gained from it was funny walking and a sore dick, not to mention the few times where neither had actually came and they’d just flopped over one another in annoyance.

He pulled onto the road, the chilled air blasting across his face and chest that was already accumulating sweat.

Maybe he should bring home chili’s to eat with the dinner.

 Seeing as that's our last hope.

In the afternoon blaze that looked over LA, people were irritable and hollering at one another in traffic. Many drivers didn’t have the luxury of working AC in their old beaten cars, and sitting under the sun flared tempers of all races, especially humans and Orcs. He even found himself spitting harsh choices of words at particularly dumb drivers that only further congested on-ramps, and by the time he made it to the station, he could barely muster patient responses when the baratement of where’s the baby? came.

 Do you think I’d be here!? He wanted to shout, but he still needed a job to come back to.

“Still!?” Sergey asked in honest shock, feeling Nick’s exhaustion bone deep when he shook his head slowly. “You know I’ve heard-”

“Whatever you’ve heard we’ve already tried,” he groaned, the pair making their way to the lockers.

“Even-”

“Don’t say spicy foods,” Nick snapped.

Sergey’s nose scrunched. “For someone who’s expecting the miracle of life you’re awfully cranky,”

“I’m not cranky,” Nick shoved his partner into an empty locker, his shoulder making loud contact with the metal door, but he laughed it off. “I’m impatient,”

“Why not just take off the extra days before it happens?” Sergey intoned.

“Over-time pay, that’s why.” Nick smirked, pulling his lock off the locker door.

↠

She flung out another onesie so the feet popped out, holding it up to decide whether this one was to hang or fold, and decided it would be stuffed into his already packed dresser.

For weeks now Leo’s closet had been bursting at the bolts with clothes and blankets and everything else that came with a baby; so much that Callie wouldn’t actually need to buy any clothes until he was at least one, but that didn’t stop her, or Nick from plucking cute sets from racks and all the assortments of socks possible, not to mention beanies.

She traced the pads of her fingers along the baby blue designs lining a hooded onesie, grinning to herself.

Nick had picked this one, going on about how easily his little melon would get cold.

Callie placed it in the pile to be hung up, and if need be, she’d take a few out to make sure it found its place amongst the others. Her brows furrowed the longer she stared, starting to question if it should tag along in the hospital bag. The rooms did get awfully chilly.

“I’ll come back to you,” she decided quietly, leaning down to grab the next article of Leo’s clothing from the basket between her feet.

Though her eyes remained trained on the TV muttering lowly in the living room, she’d completely retreated back into her thoughts when that first cramp of the day hit, but when it continued long enough for her to really evaluate its depth, she realized this one was… different.

The Braxton Hicks that had tormented her for months were sharp, often radiating down into her pelvis like minor shots of electricity. They’d subside quickly before the next one came, but this cramp was intimidating. It wrapped around her entire stomach, stretching to her lower back, and this first one wasn’t even painful. It was low, and lasting, as if giving a stern warning about what was to come, but wouldn’t pain come with something like this?

She exhaled slowly when it finally ended at thirty-six seconds, ames still outstretched and holding a little sweater while deciding upon her next move.

Callie looked down slowly as if she expected something to lunge up at her from below, but all was the same.

Leo swirled a few times, but he’d been calm since the previous day, even when Nick cooed lovingly to him to purposely evoke some kicks and shoves.

She glanced at her phone, noting the time.

“Alright then,” she cleared her throat, flinging the sweater out flat before piling it on the tabletop. She still glanced around while continuing to fold and sort, listening and waiting for something else to come, but it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that she felt it again, and this time she had enough sense to press a hand to her belly and actually feel the contract-

 No, she shook her head, continuing on with her laundry through this one. It was uncomfortable, but manageable, and definitely not that , she decided. It just didn’t start like that… did it?

When this one ended at twenty-two seconds, she scoffed.

“Almost had me there,” she mumbled, carefully piling the clothing on the table surface.

The third one was… annoying. It almost made her grip the table in support, but she bullied the discomfort aside and told it to fuck off. It radiated deep from within her gut like a period cramp, which didn’t help convince herself it wasn’t what she thought.

When the fourth one came, her attention to the ‘cramps’ had increased, and with her palms pressing into the tops of her knees, she straightened her back and ground her teeth, but sitting through them only generated more intensity.

But by the time the fifth one came, her leg was bouncing high and though she tried, she couldn’t help but cringe. The severity had grown more than she could’ve expected so rapidly, but forcing herself to move through them kept her from panicking. Folding laundry was the last thing she wanted to be doing now, but she also knew if she’d simply sat there with her undivided attention on this, she’d call Nick and likely take a ride to the hospital for false labor.

So she leaned back in her chair after throwing a pair of little pants back into the basket, holding her wrist against her forehead as she waited for this one to stop. Her skin was warming up, her heart hammering between her ribs.

Tightening her thighs only brought more misery when she tried to cross her ankles, and her palms fell over her eyes when it finally subsided. Callie exhaled hard, pushing her loose hair back and the basket away with her foot. No way she could concentrate on that. Her head lolled to the side when looking at her phone, debating heatedly within herself to call Nick. Her fingers tapped against the back of her hand atop her head as she stared at it, reaching after a few moments to swipe the screen up.

“No!” she snapped, tossing the phone down. “This isn’t it,”

Callie rose then, straining and following her stomach into standing before waddling to the kitchen. Her actions were unprecise when reaching into the fridge for a water, cranking the cap off angrily. She drank it purposefully, as if giving her body water would mean she was right and this was just a weird form of dehydration, or something.

“Mhm, mhm,” she went on as she gulped, a hand on her hip and rocking side to side.

But here came another one.

“Chinga su madre-” she sputtered, slapping the bottle down on the counter and bending forward. “Oh fuck me,” she forced out, leaning onto her knees as she continued to rock side to side through the harsh tightening. With every one that passed, the vigor that matched a charlie horses rapid incapacitation grew, and it brought back vivid recollections of the time she laid withering away in Nick’s arms as the onslaught of premature labor defeated her.

“No,” she straightened, exclaiming when her body gave her back a bigger no. Bowed over and down against her knees she went, puffing out a few quick breaths before slowly rising this time.

Her steps were cautious, one hand on her stomach while the other traced counter tops or walls, hovering to the back of a chair so she could gather the clothes that needed to be put away. By the time she made it to Leo’s room with arms full of fragrant, clean outfits, it had died down, but now came the soreness after them. Each step was coupled with sharp stabs that landed at her lower stomach and groin, bringing forth hard breaths from between her teeth.

She pushed the door open with her elbow, padding carefully across the plastic laid out over the carpet in preparation to paint the room, but now she feared it was too late for last minute projects such as this.

The clothes to be hung were draped over the crib until after she finished stuffing the folded clothes into the drawers, shoving aside the abundance of socks to make room for even more while counting her breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Get in there!” she whined lowly, shoving the drawer closed so she could move on.

Her urgency to finish wasn’t farfetched; just as she’d reached for the last of the outfits to hang, she instead found herself leaning against the crib, her forehead landing on her forearm and doubt melting away under the fervor of this one.

Deep breaths did nothing, nor did squatting which had been sworn up and down on that it worked, but only resulted in her stuck down there, hanging onto the bars of the crib and mashing her teeth together through the physical torment that stifled her breaths. The duration didn’t even matter anymore, because these were far from normal Braxton Hicks.

Callie laughed to herself as the contraction died down enough to pull herself back up, her grip remaining steadfast on the crib until she knew she could walk without swaying. Her eyes cut down to her stomach, her bottom lip starting to tremble.

“I told your dad I’d wait until tomorrow,” she breathed, her voice breaking.

All week she’d done all she could to start this, to meet her son and at last hold him, but now she was alone in his room and terror was her only companion. How did she end up questioning her own capability when she’d done nothing but tell everyone how able and ready she was for this? How did doubt always find its way in?

 I need Nick. She needed her rock.

It was time to finally, finally meet their son, no matter how prepared she thought she was or how terribly she shook now as the realization that nothing could truly prepare her for this cast over her like a shadow.

Callie nodded, her eyes sliding shut and taking a slow breath in, then letting it out even slower. “Okay,” she exhaled, stepping warily from the crib and reaching for the dresser beside the door.

Her hand landed on the door frame the moment she felt it run down her leg.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed when the warm fluid kept coming, pooling in the plastic around her bare feet. It’s sickly sweet odor was unpleasant, as was the shocking amount. Her hand shook when touching between her thighs, observing the shimmering liquid on her fingertips.

“Oh-” she gasped, laughing again. “Okay, okay,” Callie inhaled, sights set on the table in the dining room when she took another step.

But the world pulled out from under her, and the back of her head cracking against the floor was heard before everything was felt. The shock to her spine, the next contraction, her skull starting pound so loudly she could see it. Her hands lifted weakly, but they completely missed, folding heavy against the carpet beside her head.

But the contraction… it was so dull now as her world started to close, and her bent knees slid out in her own puddle of amniotic fluid she was stretched in.

“Ni…” she breathed weakly. Her arms were unable to lift again, the throbbing in her skull too mighty to fight.

A hard roll of shivers shot up his spine, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his head.

“Is the AC too strong?” Sergey asked, reaching to turn the dial.

“Nah, I just got a shiver,” Nick mumbled, rolling his shoulders again. He’d knocked loose that one, but what was this agitation that wouldn’t lift? It had come to a simmer in his belly, leaving him restless and uncomfortable no matter how he shifted in the seat.

He glanced around, jumping between passing faces and buildings, even scenting the air inside the car inconspicuously to see if some threatening scent had wafted in through the vents, but nothing explained the discomfort he felt.

It was irritating and only sank farther into his gut, heavy like stones.

“Ugh,” he groaned, moving around again.

“Tummy troubles?” Sergey played, hiding his smirk.

“Shut up,” Nick laughed off, but his grin vanished upon pulling out his phone. His thumbs flew over the screen, shooting a quick message to Callie.

 Gotta cover all your bases.

Consciousness came back to her like a kick to the jaw.

It rang behind her eyes, thundering against her temples. The sweat that had broken out across her body mimicked that of a fever dream, but her thoughts were crystal clear as she came back. The weight of her limbs was substantial, barely mustering the energy to hold her pounding head and bend her knees-

The shout that cracked in her throat was stifled late, far into the fast moving contraction gripping her frame, leaving her gasping and curling onto her side.

 That’s right, she was in labor. Active labor.

Callie pushed her upper half up, her hand sliding in the amniotic fluid pooled beneath her. She was rigid in pain, a shaking breath just moments away from becoming a shout. There was no counting, no more rocking side to side through it. There was only the suffocating wrath wrapping around her midsection like a suffocating corset, curling her neck back as she bared her teeth to the ceiling in agony.

At last it started to ebb away, leaving her spent and heaving into her palm before smoothing back her sweaty hair.

She wanted to lay back down, even being soaked in sweat and fluids with a throbbing skull. A migraine would be an easier foe to fight; at least then she wouldn’t be so dizzy she couldn’t even stand to keep her eyes open. But she couldn’t fall back into the quiet darkness. She had to bear the static in her vision and the hot tears that sprung before them.

This couldn’t end here.

“Go get your phone,” she gnarled, looking up at the door frame.

Her limbs shook something awful after finally pulling herself onto her feet, the amniotic fluid continuing to trickle down her inner thighs. Every step was a gamble, but with wet handprints left on the walls and a small trail behind her in the carpet, she made it to the table by the time another contraction was coming.

Her hands slid harshly across the table surface, knocking over clothes and mail, but her frantic searching didn’t yield her phone amongst the clutter.

“No no no-” she cried, gasping when it again constricted her midsection like an angry fist. She landed in the chair, her head flinging over the backrest and bawling into her hands as it’s fury kicked back into high gear.

The seconds felt slower than before as they ticked by endlessly, her legs kicking helplessly until she curled forward and crawled onto her knees and elbows that burned against the carpet.

 Breathe in- out, breathe- breathe in-

 It was impossible. Anything was. The only thing she wanted was to scream, but the floor smothered those. Loud grunts ripped from her throat, the dress clinging to her body like a wet sheet. Trying to form words in hopes she could calm herself down was futile when she couldn’t make it through a full breath without shouting, and as long as she was stuck there on the floor, she couldn’t find her phone.

It surely hadn’t even been a full minute since the last time he checked his phone, but he still looked again anyways, chuffing when there was no response from Callie.

Nick shifted to lean on his other foot, arms crossed and back burning under the glaring sun while stood in full uniform at the center of a lawn listening with only half his concentration to Sergey as he took the reins on this call. It was probably best that way too. If Nick had to deal with this stout man screaming about his lawn, he’d likely shove him into one of the many trash cans lining his yard.

So instead he cracked his neck, trying to ignore the sweat collecting across his scalp and gave in to checking his phone once again, but still, nothing.

Nick exhaled with another adjustment of the kevlar vest, hoping to alleviate the tightening of his chest.

Making it back to the table to again look for her phone hadn’t only been difficult, but a test of her willpower to remain standing when the contractions kept coming and strengthening enough to at first keep her on the floor for some time. She’d long since pushed her soaked panties down her legs, but was fearful if she reached down, she’d be faced with the top of Leo’s head and still no way to call for help. The thought of wobbling her way out of the house was quickly tossed; all their neighbors were busy singles or couples that were rarely home, and she sure as hell couldn’t just walk outside and scream.

So now she was upright again, even going as far as to unfold some of the clothing that it maybe could’ve been hiding between, but her thorough search did not produce the phone.

A few times she could’ve sworn she’d heard it vibrate somewhere, and when it went unfound she started to question her sanity. She did just crack her head against the floor and still struggled to keep her eyes open; it could be right under her nose and just couldn’t see it.

Callie’s hand flew over her eyes when she felt the fresh burning of tears, a weak sob building in the back of her throat. Between contractions she’d try to remind herself to relax, not to overexert herself more than she was already doing, but once the pain was no longer occupying every fiber of attention, she was left with this crippling fear.

Leo’s perfectly planned birth had suddenly been yanked out from under her in a matter of seconds, and now she was here, stranded and alone in the middle of her own labor that was completely out of her control. All the terrible outcomes she’d been warned of were suddenly so plausible; she could be losing another baby right now and she just didn’t know it yet.

Was labor supposed to hurt like this? It was so close to what it had felt like the first time during Tikka’s battle- so was she dying? Was Leo!?

There was no one to ask as she sobbed, leaned against the table with weak knees and wailing into bunched up laundry as another contraction fired up.

They were starting to last longer, which gave them more power without even really intensifying. Every one dragged on for eternity; it terrified her thinking of this going on for hours when she’d look to the clock above the bar and face that it’d only been a mere hour since first coming to.

Would Leo even have that much time?  

She steadied herself against the edge of the table, pulling her messy wet hair from her neck and face to fashion into a neater bun.

I’ve had many patients who’ve tried delivering vaginally and the baby’s become stuck in the pelvis because of their size.

Her stomach that had decreased in size since her water broke had been still; Leo had been quiet through all of this, not even a small foot to jab into her ribs like he normally did when she moved around too much, and she knew why. He was slowly moving down with every tight squeeze, coming closer to the end of his journey, but Callie didn’t know how she could ensure that being here.

She looked up, scanning the living and dining room.

Would this be enough to bring him into the world?

These walls had seen her grieve the loss of babies before; missed opportunities of a family and little laughs. Would they witness life this time?

Callie’s face hardened, nodding to herself with quickening breaths.

“I can do this,” she panted, tears brimming her eyes. “I can do this,”

Without Nick?

She wiped her eyes crudely, stopping hard when another contraction buckled her knees. The basket flipped it’s contents out before her alongside a curse, but through her own spitting profanities, she heard a soft thump , then the hum of her phone vibrating beside her hand, hidden under a small shirt. Her laughter was hysteric as she clawed for it, pressing it against her sweaty forehead and sobbing. When she could look at the multitudes of messages Nick had sent, she brought her face to the sky, thanking whoever had been passing by for showing mercy.

Cal answer me please

He sent the text with a hard press to his screen, the phone shoving back into his pocket as he made his way back to Sergey and the stout man who’d still kept hollering, but was now going to be dealt with a handful of tickets he’d accumulated after a quick sweep of his premises revealed he was the man who someone had called about.

Although at this point it wouldn’t help, Nick still took a cautionary breath while making his way across the lawn. He was a few insults away from slugging the middle aged man and calling it self defense, but Nick couldn’t trust himself not to concuss him if given the chance.

The strong vibration of his phone against his thigh completely turned him around, raising a hand to Sergey as he answered Callie’s call he’d waited desperately for.

“I texted you like a hundred-”

“Nick come home Leo’s coming!” she gasped harshly into the call.

It was what he’d feared had been happening the entire time his texts and calls had gone unanswered. There’d been days she did this; usually it was because of a nap or showering, sometimes forgetting her phone in the kitchen, but today, it wasn’t the heat that made his skin sweat, and it wasn’t his uniform that felt too tight around him. The discomfort had been under his skin, building deep down in his gut as the time dragged by. He’d known it all along, but couldn’t accept it until now.

He shouted something at Sergey, but to know if he understood him would go unconfirmed. Nick couldn’t even hear himself above the instant pounding in his ears, his sprint back to the cruiser and jumping behind the wheel all a blur, his voice shaking when he told Callie he was already driving.

The sirens stayed blaring the race across town, slamming his palm against the horn when the inane didn’t know better to get out of his way, because he’d push cars aside with his own if they interfered with this. What they’d been waiting years for, what he’d had nightmares and daydreams about, what he was so ready to protect.

It left him in disbelief while he drove wildly through the streets- surely to face harsh criticism once he’d returned to work- that in this moment, he felt no fear over meeting his son. It was only bubbling excitement to soon have all his questions answered, to finally touch the feet that kicked mightily when he heard his father's voice.

Nick’s hand covered the wide smile that spanned across his face, an equally insane stream of laughter erupting as the understanding fully dawned on him, and with that, the fear returned, too.

He was about to be a father for real, now.

By the time he was screeching around the last turn to the home stretch to their house, he’d composed himself and silenced the laughter he knew she didn’t need to be dealing with right now. By that phone call alone he could tell she was probably in hysterics, but why had she taken so long to reply then?

The sirens had also been killed before coming to a shrieking halt in the driveway, not even bothering to close his door before sprinting across the lawn.

He swung the door open so hard it bounced against the wall. “CAL!?”

“Over here,” came her weak call, and he again didn’t bother with the door before following her voice to the dining room where she was slumped in a chair and fanning her cheeks with an envelope.

“Are you okay? Are you alright?” he implored, squatting down to hold her face that was flushed and sweaty.

“My water broke all over his room and I slipped and hit my head,” she pouted, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Wha-” he choked, quickly standing to move her hair apart and check where she said it had smacked against the floor. Thankfully there was only a small abrasion that barely bled, but after going on to tell him how she lost consciousness and was sensitive to light, he knew there was even more reason to hurry.

“Leo’s bags,” she pointed, moving to hoist herself up.

“Hell no,” Nick scolded, easily scooping her up bridal style. “You’ll sit in the cruiser and I’ll get his stuff,” he was already walking her towards the door, taking the moment to kiss the top of her head when it rested tiredly against his chest. The exhaustion she must’ve been feeling was probably crippling based solely on her limp movements and weak voice.

Another contraction was starting when she was placed in the seat, but Nick moved faster than before when she waved him back into the house hurriedly, gripping the roof handle and arching against her seat. It was only a matter of seconds before he returned and was throwing all their bags into the trunk and himself back behind the wheel and they were off with the sirens blasting again.

Surely another harsh lashing was to come from that misuse, but this was worth it.

He didn’t know what to say or ask when she squeezed his hand like a vice, her legs straightening like a board and smacking her thigh repeatedly as she did her best to ride the contractions out silently. A few loud cries made their way from her throat still, then a soft apology that Nick would insist wasn’t needed.

He’d hold her face and kiss her cheeks when they stopped in traffic and Callie urged him to turn the sirens off when they did nothing to move the congested lanes no one could budge from, but it pained him to see her in such agony when they split her down the middle.

“W-what can I do?” he asked, fighting to keep his focus on her and the traffic inching forward.

“Nothing,” she gasped, her head lolling to look at him. “But it’s okay baby, just concentrate on the road,” she breathed, both of her hands securing around his. The sincerity in her big, tired eyes was there, but so was anxiety. Could he even tell if she was going to swing into one in this state?

“Talk to me,” she grunted while positioning herself in the seat. “Did we agree on what color he’d be?” she smiled.

He laughed nervously, a hand on the wheel and another on her stomach while her body was calm. It was so hard now, and if he wasn’t mistaken, even a little smaller. “I think we said mostly you with freckles of my color,”

She laughed, wincing. “I don’t think he’ll have hair,”

“I think he will. Maybe pointed ears,” Nick glanced at her, his smile fading when her face started to tighten again.

“And tusks-” she got out before her hand slapped against his arm to grip, this time wiggling onto her side to press her face into the seat.

It was another hour before the hospital was finally in sight, and for the first time in their relationship, Callie had been the one to leave bruises on his arm. Nick this time would take full advantage of being a cop; he could leave the cruiser parked right in front for as long as needed and no one could do anything about it.

“Ready?” Nick asked after darting around to her side with the bags looped around his shoulders and chest. His vest and belt had since been removed; they were only an annoyance at this point.

Callie’s response wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t entirely sure, either. Although she nodded, the tears in her eyes and tremble of her chin revealed to him the fear she’d tried hiding up to this point. All the times she’d told him, herself, everyone that she could do this, she was still questioning herself in the moment. All this time she’d done her best to bury that dread, but now facing the question anew, could she do this?

A small team of nurses had come out with a wheelchair after spotting exactly what was going down and Callie was transferred from from his arms to the seat, his hand lingering in hers until he was forced to follow behind.

Her intake was quick; apparently your water breaking got you a spot right to the front of the line in the maternity wing, but just as they’d given Callie a bed and IV with the promise of rest, an exam to verify what stage she was at had her cursing just as loudly as she did during a contraction. Nick’s fingertips turned white under her grip, watching in horror as the attending dove knuckle-deep to examine her.

“Okay my love,” the attending stood, pulling her gloves off. “You’re at seven, so almost there. Did you want an epidural?”

“No,” Callie snapped. “I’m doing it natural,”

“That’s fine, but know we don’t give them after a certain point so we don’t slow down labor. Who is your OB?”

“Sangui,”

“We’ll page her, I think she’s here today, actually,” she jotted down in her little notepad she’d brought forth from her chest pocket, a few strands of hair loose around her eyes. “Okay, sit tight and we’ll be back,” she smiled, squeezing Callie’s foot before leaving with the nurse.

“Hey,” Nick scooted back beside her, wiping his thumbs across her brow and looking into her tired eyes. “How’re you doing? What can I do?” he asked in soft tones, kissing her gently when she shook her head.

“Tell me I’m gonna be okay,” she croaked, hanging onto his wrist.

“You’re definitely gonna be okay, both of you are,” he reassured, pressing his forehead to hers when she closed her eyes and nodded, soaking in his confidence.

Now out of her soaked dress, the crisp hospital gown actually felt nice on her hot skin, as did the cold sheets of the bed, at least until she was rolling onto her hands and knees as another contraction roared to life. Callie cried from the misery in her lower back, unable to remain still or even lay down when it wrapped around her.

Between sprints, Nick, although feeling like more of a nuisance than actual help, spooned ice chips into her mouth and pressed forcefully against her lower back when she begged for some kind of reprieve, moving on to carry all her weight when she hung in his hold after deciding to stand and walk around; that only lasted a half lap around the room. It was an awkward way to hold her up like this, with his hands clasped against shoulder blades and forearms under her armpits, but it seemed the way she hung deadweight helped ease some of the insane force across her body.

Until they were taken upstairs to a more appropriate room for her delivery, Callie bit and smothered herself through the pain, leaning over into the bedding to scream instead of trying to walk and breathe through it like the nurses so urged. Sometimes it was the mental strain that needed to be eased.

But even then the allure of pain meds grew as the time drew on.

She walked and bounced on the exercise ball when they said it would help speed labor along, but either of those became impossible as the contractions only grew closer. There wasn’t enough time to catch her breath before the next one came barreling down, and within another hour, she couldn’t stand to be touched.

Laying down was murder, but so was standing up.

She stopped Nick everytime he urged to call Rosie or his mom, telling him he wasn’t allowed to until Leo was out. Knowing my luck this will all be false labor, she had groaned.

She wanted to rip off the noisy monitors banded around her distended waist, but hearing Leo’s heartbeat thunder through the speakers reminded her of what was to come after all of this, that she knew as soon as she saw him, all of this would be worth it.

So she grit her teeth and clung to Nick when the pain came, her nails digging into his arms and shoulders, but he didn’t let out a peep of discomfort. In the moments she was free of misery that left her breathless, he held her against his chest and kissed her steamy cheeks, wiping away the sweat dotted across her forehead. He only told her how strong and capable she was, but never asked her to keep fighting through the pain. He didn’t want her to think she had to break herself over this; that it was okay to ask for pain relief if it was easier on her already strained body.

Callie grunted against his chest, her knees propped apart with a couple pillows. She’d given up trying to find comfort with the ten pillows that only made her hotter, and although Nick was a heater of his own, he came with big hands that massaged her miserable back.

“Do I need to move?” he asked, starting to pull his shoulder from underneath her head.

“No,” she grunted, rolling her onto her back. ”I gotta go to the bathroom,”

The heavy door to their room opened, and at last Dr. Sangui came in with hands clasped and a warm smile. “What ever got you here needs to be relayed so I can share the secret with the other a hundred moms desperate to pop their babies out,”

“Homemade salsa,” Nick grinned.

“Oh, well some of them are out of luck then. How’re you doing Callie?”

“I have a lot of pressure on my butt,” Callie frowned tiredly.

“Well let’s do a quick check here then,” she moved to grab gloves from off the walls. “When was your last one?”

“‘Bout an hour ago,” Nick answered, already offering his hand after Callie slid fully onto her back and spread her knees.

“And you were seven then?” she asked, apologizing softly when Callie tensed. She still nodded through it, this one not anywhere as bad as before.

“Well, get ready for the last stretch,” she looked up at the nervous couple. “It’s time to start pushing,”

Callie’s expression worried, her head dropping back with a hand rested against her chest and the other in Nick’s grasp.

“Hey,” he called softly, stopping her before she walked into that storm. “You can do this, baby,”

She nodded with him, eyes glossy. “I can do this,”

“You can, you’re finally gonna see him,” Nick’s voice wavered, but he took the opportunity to kiss her knuckles before leaning down to kiss her, reassuring her as many times as needed.

The staff was a blur around them, setting up trays at her feet and dimming the lights to make way for the blinding one above her. Gowns were draped over scrubs and Callie’s bed was formed until she was upright with one foot in a stirrup and another in Nick’s hold, his thumb caressing her knee comfortingly.

“Alright hun, why don’t you give me one good push to see where we’re starting,” Dr. Sangui smiled from behind her mask.

Callie nodded, her chin touching her chest when she pushed, whimpering at the immediate growth in pressure.

“Mom’s a good pusher, let’s set up quickly,” she called back to her staff cheerily, smoothing down the blue mats between herself and Callie.

It was a small boost to her confidence, but one she’d take nonetheless.

She watched them finish laying the blankets over the warmed tray and the scale beside it, the stethoscopes ready around their necks and bulbs prepared to be used. She didn’t dare examine the tray of scalpels and head clamps within Dr. Sangui’s reach; she couldn’t concentrate on that possibly.

Callie’s knees started to tighten. “I’m gonna have another one,” she groaned, her toes curling.

“Okay Callie, when you feel it, that’s time to push, alright? Push right into your bottom like you’re poopin’,”  she instructed, scooting closer between her feet.

Her hold adjusted around Nick’s wrist, looking up at him, searching.

 I love you, he mouthed, grimacing when there was only a second of her bright smile before it was time.

She pushed with every fiber of strength she had left in her spent body. Until her face was red and they said rest, she pushed even if it felt like her middle was splitting open.

 Just go just go just go! She screamed internally, desperate to move her mind around the torture, but everything was pain, and she felt every second of it. Every twist Leo made in her pelvis, she felt. Every inch he moved farther down between her hips; at one point she stressed her hips could dislocate, but was only told to keep pushing.

The breaks between the pushes were still agonizing. The pressure was that of the kind around your skull when you dive too deep, but it didn’t lessen when she calmed.

“...seven, eight, nine, ten, okay take a breath,” Dr. Sangui breathed with Callie. “And again, push,”

With her chin to her chest and jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would shatter, she started to care less and less about the gutteral sounds she made. She grabbed the back of her knees, her face scrunched-

“Here comes the head!” Dr. Sangui smiled. “Keep going- five, six, seven-”

Nick leaned forward to look, the air punched from his lungs once observing the horrifying sight before him.

“Okay take a quick break, this is the ring of fire but I think you can have his head out in another push,” she encouraged, piling gauze beside her.

“Oh fuck me,” Callie breathed, panting before falling back into concentration and pushing again, and lord did the ring of fire live up to it’s name. This time the shouts wouldn’t be suppressed, nor the curses. There was no way in hell anyone could expect composure now at this point with her center literally on the brink of ripping apart.

“Breathe breathe breathe and again,”

It was hard to hold her breath while she pushed; there was already so much pressure everywhere, and her head was starting to pound again-

There was a popping sensation, some slight relief.

“Heads out! C’mon Callie, one more good push!” Dr. Sangui cheered, a nurse stepping forward with a blanket over her outstretched arms.

Callie couldn’t see past her stomach when she searched frantically. “His head?” she looked up to Nick who’s eyes had glossed over when he looked at her.

“He has hair,” he smiled, his voice cracking.

Callie tittered, her shaking grip adjusting around Nick’s wrist again.

“You can do this,” he held the back of her head, sincerity pooling in his molten eyes. “You’re so close baby,”

Callie nodded again, eyes pinching shut when the wrath started to build up.

“Okay hun, one more time,”

She waited, inhaling deeply. “I can do this,” she whispered.

Nick started to exclaim and encourage when she felt Leo start to move from her, his grip tightening on her leg, but she couldn’t open her eyes while she pushed. Sangui cheered the same, and could feel her fingers move around Leo’s jaw and neck, pulling gently against her body until the pressure was finally gone.

She exhaled loudly as he came spinning out, Nick’s breathless exclaim opening her eyes just as the tiny, gargling screams came.

Callie sobbed as soon as he was lifted onto her bare chest, his arms thrown out angrily and puffy eyes pinched shut as he wailed into the cold world around him. Finally he was in her hold, at last able to touch the velvety skin of his face or feel his cries when resting her hand on his back, and the deep breaths he sucked in between every holler. She held the back of his delicate head, astounded by the dappling of Nick’s color that formed the markings across his round cheeks and human nose, all the way back to his tiny pointed ears.

Her words weren’t words at all, but simply emotions taking flight in wails and sobs as she touched every part of him that she’d grown.

She looked up at Nick who was wiping his eyes crudely against the sleeves on his arms. “I did it,” she sighed, her eyes sliding shut when he kissed her forehead. “Nick look at him,” she beamed, pulling him closer by the shirt.

His vision was blurry from tears when he dragged his knuckles faintly across Leo’s soft cheek, hiding the sobs in his other palm. His soft graze traced the tones of his skin, detailing the freckles that dusted across his shoulders and cheeks like his mothers.

His strong, little fingers wrapped around Callie’s, squeezing and releasing as he continued to weep against her chest as he was jostled and dried by the nurses. Nick smoothed the sticky, sandy blonde hair from his forehead, the parents laughing when Leo grunted loudly before stirring again.

“I didn’t expect this color,” Callie commented, carefully pulling it up to see he already had a few inches worth of hair running the curve of his head in a thick stripe.

“I didn’t expect hair,” he snorted.

Callie kissed his fingers, tears trailing down her cheeks as she admired him. “He’s so perfect,” she whispered, tapping his puckering chin.

Leo’s face scrunched, a soft chuff stirring a few coughs.

Nick’s heart wept; there was already so much of himself in him.

“I can’t believe how pretty he is,” Callie spoke softly, the pair in awe when he whined, his face sorrowing.

“He looks so sad,” Nick grieved, rubbing his arm that curled in tighter to his body, still gripping Callie’s finger.

Callie hushed him softly, craning her neck to press a flurry of kisses into his cheek and temple. “Que paso hermoso? Hm?” she cooed, more kisses finding his hand. “Are you angry you had to come out?”

“Is he…?” Nick trailed off, both of them freezing when his swollen eyes started to flutter open. Nick leaned far over, fighting to catch a glimpse of his eyes. “Can we turn that off?” he asked, pointing at the light.

“Oh, yep! Sorry little guy,” Dr. Sangui grinned guiltily, adjusting the high beam from his face.

Two bright golden jewels rolled around behind squinted eyelids, making out only a blurry outline of his father that smiled down at him.

“So all you got from me is my nose, huh?” Callie joked, both of them chuckling.

Leo’s big eyes opened wider, his head pressing back into her palm.

“Talk again,” Nick said, watching in amazement.

“Leo,” she called softly, beaming from ear to ear when he stilled, his eyes opened and looking in her direction. “Do you recognize my voice bebe? Do you hear me Leonardo Makar?” she whispered, kissing his knuckles.

He kept looking up, his blinks heavy as she spoke to him, kissing the space between his eyes that Nick ran the pad of his thumb up and down over to make his nose scrunch. When it was time for him to be weighed, her heart sank the moment he cried after being lifted from her chest, his serenity broken and warmth taken away

“Go with him,” she told Nick who was already following his crackly cries to the small heated bed.

He wailed and kicked, and Nick fought shouting at them to do this all later. Why couldn’t he just lay with Callie!? They didn’t need to be putting bands around him and measuring- he wasn’t going to grow that fast!

“He is ten pounds four ounces,” a nurse smiled back at Callie.

“Oh my god,” she wailed from behind him, but Nick wouldn’t drag his eyes from Leo who was continuing to howl and tremble under their assault.

 What else could they have to do!? They’d done the lengths, drying, wrapping yada-yada, what the fuck else!? How long were they gonna keep him crying there!? He wanted to move beside him and talk to him, offer his touch in comfort, but they remained huddled around him, rolling him side to side as they swaddled him.

 “Ready to hold him dad?” an older, more soft-spoken nurse asked Nick while she finished fixing the beanie pulled over his matted hair.

His anger fell away, excitement bringing forth a quick nod.

Leo was starting to whine angrily again just as Nick found his seat beside Callie’s bed, another nurse propping a pillow under his elbow before his son was lowered carefully into his arms. His head rested in the crook of his elbow, his body curled inwards towards Nick and his hands peeking out from the blanket where he tried to suck on his fist.

In Nick’s hold Leo looked small, but even he knew just by holding him that he was a big baby, but everything about him was precious, miniature. Nick’s curiosity moved under the beanie to his pointed ears, following his brow down to the tip of his rounded nose- Callie’s nose- and over his soft lips that searched for milk.

Leo’s feet nudged softly against Nick’s palm where his bottom half was curled up, and he squeezed them with great care, watching his toes spread when a foot finally broke loose of the swaddle. Nick’s thumb fit across the bottom of Leo’s silky foot, his toes curling around the tip of his finger when he pressed gently.

He chuckled every time a little arm sporadically sprung upwards, his grabbing hands aimless and sometimes gripping Nick’s shirt. His grip was strong around his finger, lifting his hand to gaze at his little, little fingernails.

Callie watched with misty eyes as Nick pulled Leo closer to his chest, leaning down to press firm kisses to his face, nuzzling his nose under his round cheeks even when the baby boy whined in protest. His crackly voice stirred sympathy in Nick’s already bursting heart, softly, and only half-heartedly apologizing to him after peppering more kisses against his chubby cheek. The blanket was secured tighter around his little shoulders, talking softly to him in Orkish whispers that he hoped would calm Leo’s tired cries. Babies crying usually made him nervous, but Leo’s little wails stirred something close to a sobbing laughter, something affectionate and overflowing with admiration for the little thing he held close to his heart.

He wanted to see those big, amber eyes look up at him, but the longer he remained curled tight against Nick’s warm chest with calming pats against his bottom, the more he couldn’t bear to move him from contentedness.

“Of course he doesn’t kick you when he’s angry,” Callie mumbled playfully, giggling at Nick’s goofy grin when he could finally pull his gaze away from his handsome son.

“He’s got a lot to say,” Nick rubbed the space between his eyes again, chuckling when his brows furrowed and he whined louder.

“Now we can call everyone,” she grunted, eyes pinching shut as the doctor went on to stitch and clean her up. It stung, but was nothing compared to five minutes ago.

Nick gasped softly. “I have an idea,” he whispered to Leo excitedly. He cringed when he disturbed him while stretching a leg to dig his phone from his pocket, comforting Leo enough to keep him from wailing as he found his mother in his call log, but his quick panting would soon lead to full on sobs again.

High-pitched whimpers started to emit from him, his arm coming from the blankets.

“I see what you’re doing,” Callie reached to touch Leo’s forehead, rubbing her fingers back and forth over the velvety skin.

Nick tensed when the line picked up, and as planned, Leo started to cry louder, his round face souring. “Ma?” Nick called, his voice bubbling with excitement.

“Nick- who’s, who’s baby?” Dinara finally spoke, breathlessly that was.

He fought but couldn’t steady his voice before saying, “He’s here, Ma,”

There was only shouting after that, clustered and slipping madly between English and Orkish as she screamed for Oleg, struggling to get out what she intended. Nick tried to answer her blubbering questions, but she was crying the next one out before he even had time to finish the first.

Nick let the nurse lift Leo from his arms and back into Callie’s after she’d finished, ending the call with his parents after getting enough out to tell them what hopital they were at.

“Come here come here,” Callie reached excitedly, cradling him tight to her chest and freely reining kisses over the small plain his soft face.

Nick wiped his eyes again, standing to watch quietly as the nurse assisted Callie on how to get Leo to latch, his body unwrapped from the blankets and resuming skin to skin contact. Now he was really screaming, his short legs kicking wildly and arms throwing erratically until he was placed on his stomach over Callie’s bare chest.

The sensation of breastfeeding would definitely be something to adjust to, and Leo although being eager to eat was a stubborn latcher, crying angrily when Callie struggled and her soft words doing nothing to calm his hunger.

Nick could see her becoming flustered under the gaze of the nurses, glancing up nervously while trying to adjust the support under her arms.

Without a word, he stuffed the pillow higher under her elbow, releasing his own breath when she did after Leo finally found his spot.

Her head dropped back, eyes closing with a small smile across her lips. “Thank goodness.”

It was a brief feeding; Leo needed only a few drops of colostrum before he released, but the whole feeding had been another sight to marvel at. He grunted through his nose as he suckled, his face scrunched hilariously. Leo detached himself with a single sharp cry, his big eyes starting to flutter open again. This time, Nick had his phone ready for pictures when he looked around sleepily, and blindly, basically, but his cries were now little grunts and chuffs, breathing rapidly in between wide yawns that made Nick and Callie’s hearts throb.

Nick promised and pleaded her beauty when he started taking photos of them, begging her not to hide her glow after pulling the blanket down enough to snap the photos that would be cherished forever. Leo lasted a while before his lids started to slide shut, his sporadic wiggles calming when Nick rubbed his bare, fuzzy back.

He leaned over to wiggle his face between his shoulder and cheek carefully, pressing final kisses everywhere until he started to stir, but rested his cheek against his back, the beat of his rapid heart filling his ears.

Callie touched Nick’s cheek, her eyes pooling with tears again. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

He kissed her before he lost his composure again, smoothing her messy hair away from her face and reminding her how beautiful, amazing, and strong she was. “He’s perfect because you’re perfect,” he kissed into her cheek, wiping her eyes when she tried to look away with blushing cheeks.

“Hey!” she sniffled, craning her neck to find their bags. “Get my phone, yeah? I wanna call Rosie,”

Nick quickly located her phone, handing it to her but replacing her hand on Leo’s back so he wouldn’t roll away by some miraculous chance.

Callie navigated her phone until the line was ringing on speaker, hopeful she wasn’t in the middle of a call.

“Heeey,” Rosie answered nonchalantly.

"You have to promise you won’t be mad at me,” Callie barely got out past the excitement in her voice.

There was a pause. “What did you do?”

She withheld the laughter to say, “I’m holding your nephew,”

“My nephew… my nephew. My nephew!? You had Leo!?” Rosie shrieked, the panic heightened in her shrill voice over the line.

“He has my nose!” Callie lamented, both her and Nick laughing when Rosie only screamed obscenely through the phone.

“I’ll be there! I’m coming right now, I love you so much I’ll see you soon!” Rosie sobbed, the line clicking before Callie could get another word in.

“I hope she doesn’t walk in screaming like that,” Callie giggled, stuffing her phone beside her.

Their attention quickly moved back to Leo when an acute growl vibrated through his small body, and that was when Nick lost it. He hid his face against the pillow behind Callie, laughing as she did but also sobbing like a mess. There was no need to explain the confusing swarm of emotions he was under the spell of to Callie or the nurses around them, and definitely not to Dr. Sangui who congratulated the new parents on their healthy baby boy, assuring to Callie that as soon as she left she’d be canceling the c-section.

When the sobs were muddled and eyes red and puffy found his son again, Nick rested his cheek against Callie’s arm above Leo’s head so he could watch him sleep, kissing soft I love you’s into his covered head while she counted his toes and fingers, touching the two freckles on his chin that matched hers. They detailed the distinct patterning of Nick’s hue over the caramel glow of his skin, the darker freckles in some spots and the lighter ones over his cheeks. Nick was in awe at how much of himself and Callie he found the longer he stared and how much was unexpected, but in every sense, and every way possible, Leo was perfect.

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Leonardo Makar Jakoby

July 19th | 10 lbs 4 oz | 21 in

Born to proud parents Calista & Nicholas

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😍Expect a lot of secret drawings of Leo now😍

[anubislover]

Fraternizing with the Enemy

(A month after a one-night stand, Ikkaku finds herself chatting with Killer at the bar, wondering if she should risk her captain’s wrath for a chance at a second go)

There was bound to be trouble tonight. Ikkaku knew it the second the Kid Pirates marched through the tavern door. Honestly, she was surprised an all-out brawl hadn’t already happened. The two crews had run into each other a few times already on the Grand Line, and so far, the longest the two rookie captains had managed to go without a fight was twenty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds. Penguin had timed it.

It was a record she doubted would be broken tonight; ten minutes in and Law was happily throwing shade from his table and Kid’s retorts were getting pissier by the second.

Sighing, Ikkaku quickly downed her pint of beer, physically and mentally preparing herself to vacate her place at the bar and abandon her fantasy of a nice, relaxing evening out. She’d even gotten gussied up, forgoing the boiler suit in favor of a tight skirt, tall boots, and a crop top. What a waste.

As she set down her mug, a large, lightly tanned hand smoothly but firmly set down some belli beside it while a low, quiet voice informed the bartender, “Another for the lady, and I’ll have the same. With a straw, though.”

A pleasant shiver ran down Ikkaku’s back at the low, familiar timbre. The man it belonged to had starred in her wet dreams since their hot, steamy night together over a month ago. It was another instance of their crews running into each other, this time hunting down the treasure rumored to be hidden deep in the island’s jungle. However, the massive, ravenous reptiles that called the jungle home had attacked at the same time a massive monsoon hit, scattering the crews in the chaos. By pure luck, Ikkaku and Killer had ended up holed up in the same cave, soaked to the bone and more than a little banged up.

She’d admittedly been leery of the dangerous first mate, but much to her surprise he’d been a perfect gentleman; helping her fashion a splint for her sprained ankle, starting a meagre fire to try to dry off their clothes, and just generally going out of his way to show she had nothing to fear from him. He’d even removed his mask in a show of trust. Over several hours suspicion turned to acceptance, which turned to small talk, which finally morphed into flirting.

By nightfall, after a purred comment about sharing body heat, he was fucking her torturously slow, rasping filthy compliments in her ear, ignoring her pleas for him to speed up and fuck her harder; she could tell from the way he gripped her hips that he was holding himself back for the sake of not jostling her injured leg. When she’d woken up the next morning, she found him dressed and preparing a quick breakfast for them, his mask once more in place as he announced they’d better be getting back to their respective ships.

Now, he was at the bar beside her, ordering her a drink. Ikkaku hadn’t expected that. She’d figured she was just another notch in his belt, like he was hers, and they’d have no further interaction beyond trying to kill each other at their captains’ command.

“Shouldn’t you be making sure Kid doesn’t have an aneurysm?” she asked, forcing herself to sound casual. Normally, she wouldn’t have any trouble talking to a past one-night stand, but those people usually weren’t the first mate on an enemy ship.

“Heat and Wire can keep him in check for a few minutes,” Killer replied, tone neutral as beige wallpaper as he stuck the little bendy straw through one of the holes in his mask. “Though, that wouldn’t be a problem if Trafalgar didn’t insist on winding him up.”

“Kid gets wound up by the mere fact that Law exists,” she countered as she accepted her fresh beer from the bartender.

He turned to face her, leaning his hip against the bar as he sipped his drink. “True. Suppose it’s lucky that Kid’s in a good mood. His bounty went up again; otherwise he’d be even more eager for a fight.”

She scowled slightly at that. He was right; the new wanted posters had come with the day’s News Coo, and Kid’s was nearly thirty thousand belli higher than Law’s now. “Bounties aren’t everything,” she insisted with a stubborn pout. “Law can still kick Kid’s ass.”

“Are you seriously playing the ‘my captain can beat up your captain’ game?” he asked, head tilting slightly to the side.

A pink blush spread across her cheeks at his callout. Gods, it sounded so childish when he put it like that. “You’re oddly talkative tonight,” she stated, changing the subject in hopes of salvaging her dignity.

“Something wrong with polite conversation?”

“Just trying to figure out your end goal, here.”

“Well, why does a man usually buy a beautiful woman booze?”

Her blush darkened despite herself. She’d usually be immune to such comments, but the purr in his throat instantly took her back to that night and the way he’d told her how damn good she felt around him as he drove her over the edge for the second time. Beneath the lip of the bar, she rubbed her thighs together. “Lookin’ to get into my pants again?” Honestly, she secretly hoped so. Now that she wasn’t injured, she’d love to find out just how much Killer had been holding back.

One muscular forearm rested across the back of her seat as he leaned in just the slightest bit. “Wouldn’t say no, but mostly wanted to check on you.”

Ah. Of course. He was there to make sure there hadn’t been any consequences to their tryst. Disappointing, but understandable.

“You didn’t get me pregnant or anything,” she assured. One of the benefits of having a genius doctor for a captain meant that she was on one of the best birth controls known to man. The downside was that, if Killer had accidentally knocked her up, there was no way in hell she would have stood a chance at hiding it from Law. Gods, the hell that would have broken loose if she were carrying the Massacre Soldier baby…

His broad shoulders shook slightly, and Ikkaku was shocked to find Killer was holding back laughter. “Good to hear, though I was gonna open by asking about your ankle,” he finally said, mirth tinting his usually deadpan voice.

Man, this just wasn’t her night, was it? She was usually so much smoother. Clearing her throat and taking a sip of beer to regain her composure, she replied, “The ankle’s fine. Nothing worse than a light sprain. Honestly, Law was more concerned with the finger-shaped bruises on my ass.”

She got a smug sense of satisfaction when Killer choked on his drink. That reaction almost made up for the absolute grilling she had gotten from her captain over precisely how she might have received such marks.

“So he—”

“I told him you must have given them to me when you hauled me up over your shoulder so we could run away from the giant lizard that was chasing us,” she said with a smirk. There was no way Law had actually bought her excuse, but there wasn’t much he could do beyond scowl and assign her extra chores as punishment for fraternizing with the enemy.

After all, he’d slept with X Drake—both before and after the Marine’s career change. Who was he to lecture her about fraternizing with the enemy?

Ikkaku watched Killer’s broad shoulders slump in relief. “Kid doesn’t know, either, and I ain’t telling. He’d either use it as ammunition to rile Trafalgar up, or kidnap you in some misguided show of friendship. Neither seemed particularly respectful towards you.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, hiding her smile behind the rim of her mug. She was pleasantly surprised to realize she hadn’t even entertained the thought that he’d brag about banging her to his buddies. He just…didn’t seem the type. And the fact that he’d kept quiet partially to protect her reputation was oddly heartwarming. “Law’s…protective, so I can’t imagine either scenario going in your favor.”

“Would sure as hell get tonight’s brawl started early.” He glanced over his shoulder at the two bickering captains before looking up at the clock over the bar. “Nineteen minutes, forty-seven seconds. Think they’ll beat their record?”

“They just might,” she giggled. So, the Kid Pirates timed their fights, too, huh? “Unless something happens to set one of them off.”

“Like what?”

“Like Law noticing you talking to me.”

“He’d get mad over us talking? I’m not even touching you,” he said, drumming his fingers pointedly against the back of her chair. It was true; though he was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, no part of his body was making contact with hers.

“Just because I fibbed about where those bruises came from doesn’t mean he believed it for a second.”

“How’d he even see them, anyway?” he huffed, and Ikkaku could imagine his eyes had narrowed critically behind the mask. “Do you really need to strip down to your skivvies for him to treat a sprained ankle?”

Elbows rested on the bar top as her fingers linked, creating a nice little spot where she could demurely rest her chin. Dark eyelashes fluttered up at him as she answered with a charming smirk, “Killer, I’m a woman. An insanely hot one, at that, who tends to make a habit of mouthing off to dangerous people. You think that my captain wouldn’t be just a teensy bit paranoid about something having happened to me after realizing I’d spent the night alone in the jungle with a dangerous man like you?”

The hand on her chair shifted to teasingly trail along the exposed skin of her lower back. Ikkaku shivered at the sensation of rough callouses gently dancing along her sensitive spine, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a moan as his fingers pinched the end of one of her curls and gave a sharp tug. One of the few rough actions he’d allowed himself to indulge in had been hair pulling once he’d realized how much she loved it.

Her thighs rubbed together again, and this time he caught the action if his harsh inhalation was anything to go by.

His voice had a hot, rough edge to it as he replied, “I think he’d be even more paranoid if you, say, decided to leave the bar with me to spend the night in my quarters.”

Oh. Oh, that was a tempting offer. That night in the jungle had been good, but Ikkaku knew it was just a taste of what the masked man could offer. She was sure he’d leave delicious new bruises all over her smooth skin, and maybe he’d even let her take the reigns for a while. The only problems was she knew Law wouldn’t approve and would likely Scan the whole island for her if he realized she was gone. He could forgive her for sleeping with the enemy once, but twice? That was pushing her luck.

Her theory was proven as she found herself encased in a blue bubble, and in a blink, she was at her captain’s side, her chair at the bar occupied by his empty mug.

“Killer-ya,” Law drawled, scowling at the masked pirate out of the corner of his eye, shifting his nodachi so it lay pointedly between him and his female subordinate, “it’s not nice to bother a lady when she’d drinking.”

“He wasn’t bothering me, Law,” Ikkaku griped, irritated not just by the cockblock, but the fact that he’d drawn the whole tavern’s attention. “We were just talking.”

“His hand was on your ass.”

“It was on my back!”

“This time,” he growled under his breath.

Before Ikkaku could retort or smack him upside the head, Kid decided to butt in. “Killer, were you seriously lookin’ to bang the Heart chick?” he sniggered, eyeing the woman deviously. The way his smirk widened at Law’s glare foretold trouble. “You know, now that she’s outta that ugly uniform and actually dressed like a woman, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Watch it, Eustass-ya,” Law said lowly, his relaxed posture and mocking tone from the beginning of the night having evaporated like raindrops in the desert.

Sensing the tides had turned, Kid ignored him to address Ikkaku. “Tell ya what, girly; how about I buy you for the night? As a gift for my first mate.”

Dark eyes widened at his audacity before the mechanic snorted, jutting out her hip. “If a guy needs his buddy to buy him a woman, I’d say that’s a pretty good indicator that he’s shit in bed.”

She mentally apologized to Killer, though by the way she could see his shoulders quietly shaking out of the corner of her eye, he’d found her barbed retort more amusing than insulting.

After all, he’d given her three orgasms in one night while holding back. If anything, she should be paying him.

Kid, of course, was far less entertained, his sarcastic smile morphing into an angry frown. “Listen sweet cheeks, you’d be lucky to take Killer’s dick.”

“Speaking from experience, Eustass-ya?” Law asked, teeth flashing with sadistic delight.

“Oh, you little—”

At twenty-seven minutes and fifty-one seconds, the two captains finally began fighting for real, metal and body parts flying as their crews grabbed whatever makeshift weapons they could to join the fray.

As Ikkaku smashed a chair over Wire’s back, she caught Killer’s eye.

The Massacre Soldier’s mask kept her from seeing his expression, but from his casual shrug, she suspected there were no hard feelings between them for either the fight or lack of having a second go. She graced him with a saucy grin, even as they both turned to aid their captains.

Ah well. Perhaps some other time. Anything was possible on the Grand Line, after all.

End.

[joontier]

“Dad!”

--> Pairing: Yoongi x reader

--> Genre/warnings: SMUUUUUUT, that is all, thank you

--> Words: 2.5k

--> Summary: Yoongi can’t keep his hands to himself even if you’re just sitting there beside him…sans-underwear

—> Note: I haven’t had the time to fix the links yet, but you guys can check parts 1 and 2 in my masterlist

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

March 06, 2029

Yoongi sits up in bed, eyes squinting as he scans the dimly lit room, the sunlight trying to break through the curtain slits. You were snoring softly on a pillow, considering you stole the same from him the previous night. He yawns as he moves his foot around, blindly looking for the other pair of his slippers.

It’s been exactly three months since you gave birth to Byungchul, and the responsibilities of a father and a husband were taking its toll on Yoongi. Your husband’s stress levels definitely reached its peak this time and with the insane sleeping patterns – which he still hasn’t gotten accustomed to since the start of your pregnancy until your son’s birth – Yoongi looks worse than a clapped-out junkie.

Having had the mentality that all the fuss would’ve been over once the baby comes out, Yoongi was overjoyed when you gave birth on the sixth of December the previous year. One look at Byungchul was all it took before tears started rolling down his cheeks. Mainly because the realization of finally being a father overwhelmed him at that moment because he thought he would no longer have to deal with your midnight cravings and bizarre antics during your pregnancy.

Boy was he wrong.

First week into parenthood, Yoongi gulps down at least three mugs of coffee a day, rushing over to Byungchul’s crib when he hears the slightest of cries. Both your mom and mother-in-law demanded that you rest for a while after having dealt with nearly a day in labor. Hence, Yoongi had to take on the responsibility of taking care of Byungchul as well as most of the daily chores.

Although there were countless times when you offered to help your husband, Yoongi was caring and understanding enough to decline each time because he knew he’d end up doing it altogether if you did try to ‘help’ him. Just like that time when you said you’d clean up after ordering Chinese take-out for dinner and when he returns from putting the baby to sleep, he sees you snoring against the couch in the living room, clutching a pair of chopsticks to your chest.

Today seemed like an exception though. Your husband didn’t wake at the sound of Byungchul wailing for the first time in what felt like forever. When he tried to lie down again to get back to sleep, he just tossed and turned for a few minutes before sitting back up, realizing he wasn’t going back to his slumber anytime soon. It was like he was already anticipating Byungchul’s cries ringing through his ears in the middle of the night.

Heading over to the baby’s crib, he peeks and leans over the plastic columns and traces light patters on his son’s pajama-clad tummy. He smiled as he remembered the first photo of his son he released to the public. It was a photo of Byungchul sleeping with arms and legs spread in all directions, resembling a starfish. He’d accompanied it with a zoomed-in picture of his son’s bun-like arms, captioning it with a bread emoji.

Yoongi pats Byungchul’s head gently a few times before he heads to the kitchen to start the day early.

Flipping the last pancake with one swift motion, Yoongi sets the pan down and turns off the stove, bringing his plate of the Min-Yoongi-pancake-special recipe over the dining table. He sat down on the wooden chair and crossed his legs as he squeezed a generous amount of syrup onto the stack of pancakes.

He cuts a large slice from the stack with his fork, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the self-proclaimed excellence of his own specialty breakfast. Yoongi hears muted footsteps on the carpeted floor, momentarily pausing his eating to watch you pad slowly towards the kitchen, solely depending on your sense of smell as your eyes remain shut.

Yoongi pulls out a chair for you beside him and you plop down and rest your head on his shoulder. Before your hands could grab a bite from his plate, Yoongi swats your hand away and slides his plate farther from you. He tells you that he’s left you another serving on the counter and you mutter a curse before getting up and stomping exaggeratedly towards the counter.

As you stand a few meters away from Yoongi, your husband’s breath hitches as he finally takes in what you wore to bed last night. It literally wasn’t much. You were wearing one of Yoongi’s favorite white large shirts. But the way its hem just reached your thighs and assumingly, the fact that you weren’t wearing anything else underneath so you cold-induced nipples were trying to poke their way out of the shirt made something snap inside Yoongi.

This was only one of the many charms you had that convinced Yoongi to ask you to stay with him for the rest of your life. He always let you knew that you looked sexiest when getting up from bed – despite the nest-like hair, flammable breath, and that line of dried saliva on your chin, there was no greater honor to him than waking up to that sight. Yoongi still loves you nevertheless, wondering how you always managed to look beautiful even in the unlikeliest of times.

It was driving Yoongi nuts, looking achingly seductive like that, even if he only saw your back and a glimpse of your side profile. Yoongi takes a swig of the water beside him as you rummage through the drawers looking for cutlery, eventually bending down to check the bottom ones. How could you possibly not know where they’re placed when you’ve been living under the same roof for nearly three years already?!

He isn’t even the slightest bit doubtful that you weren’t doing this on purpose (well, you had the tendency to be quite dramatic from time to time) and he gulps as you bend over one more time, his shirt riding up your legs and finally confirming that you were, in fact, not wearing any underwear, at all.

Well, shit.

He quickly looks away, blocking all the indecent thoughts before they consume him and failing miserably at that. As Yoongi tries to peek one more time, he comes face-to-face with you, eyes nothing short of worry for your husband. Instead, he sees a glint of playfulness in them.

“Yoongs, is something bothering you?”

Was that even a question? His eyes travel down your cheeks to your neckline and when he gets a glimpse of your breasts due to the looseness of his shirt on you, all hell seems to break loose. It’s been too long since he got to touch you, feel you. Yoongi doesn’t know how he lasted a year without sex if it weren’t for the busy schedule divided between work and taking care of you and Byungchul. You return to your chair when he doesn’t respond, acting as if the tension isn’t as clear as day.

Fuck, you looked so enticing just beside him. Sans underwear, hair tied up in a messy bun, smothering whipped cream all over the pancakes. There was nothing he could do when he felt his cock straining against his boxers, knowing that you were the only person in this world who could give him an instant hard-on doing the most mundane of tasks.

Min Yoongi is known to be an avid risk-taker, that’s why when he sees an opportunity, he grabs it – regardless of how it may end. Which is why when you accidentally spread whipped cream across your cheek trying to gobble up an entire pancake, your husband closes the distance between you two, swiping his tongue across your cheek to clean up your mess.

A giggle escapes your lips and his heart wrenches, feeling bad for having inappropriate thoughts this early in the morning. Of course, you probably still needed your post-natal rest – the unimaginable pain of giving birth recently. “You could’ve just told me Yoongs, no need to go Holly on me.” You reprimand him in a playful tone, pinching his cheek as you grab a napkin to wipe his saliva off your face. Yoongi gives you back your personal space, trying to picture Namjoon wearing a sailor moon outfit to get his dick back down.

While Yoongi proceeds to finish his cup of coffee, you muttered something that had Yoongi choking on his drink, spluttering drops of coffee on the table. “Don’t think I don’t see that problem of yours down there Min Yoongi.” He finds your hand slowly massaging his thigh, circling dangerously near his crotch. Ah, fuck it. He was about to get lucky this early in the morning, and Namjoon in that ridiculous costume isn’t about to spoil it.

Yoongi swallows when your hand travels inside his boxers, fisting his dick while you finish the rest of your pancakes. “Take that off for me,” you order, releasing his cock from your grip as you bring the plates to the dishwasher. When you return, you tilt your head towards the table, motioning him to sit on it so you won’t have to deal with sore knees afterwards.

Your husband slowly gets up from his chair and onto the table, cock already twitching in anticipation. Yoongi takes your hand and pulls you between his legs, kissing you feverishly. You waste no time in letting your hands roam his body, enjoying the way he’s gained weight since your pregnancy, indulging in your pregnancy cravings as well.

You lower down on your seat, your fingernails prickling his skin with goosebumps, enjoying his reactions. You lick your lips before you slowly dive in, teasing the tip and circling your tongue around the head, gauging your husband’s reaction. Yoongi grunts when you take more, throwing his head back when he feels his cock disappear between your lips.

He nearly loses it when you suck around his cock, a low hum escaping your lips. The feeling is familiar but foreign at the same time, a prominent baby bump proving to be difficult to deal with during sexy time with you. You’re still just as skilled with your mouth, though definitely hotter this time. Must be the post-natal glow - Yoongi notes mentally, picturing getting you pregnant again if that means he gets to reap what he’s sown so wonderfully.

You draw your mouth back slowly and sink down on it again, taking pleasure in the groan of bliss you draw out from Yoongi. Slowly and steadily, you fall into a rhythm of sliding his cock between your lips, occasionally taking a peek at your husband whose grip in your hair tightens by the second. He’s close, you reckon - tell-tale signs all etched in memory from your shared intimacies in the past. Yoongi gasps loudly when he cums, his whole body quivering as his cock softens in your mouth.

Yoongi hoists you up for him to sit where you’ve been and pulls you down to sit on his thighs. You feel his dick almost ready again as he sits you near his crotch, the only thing separating you is your husband’s oversized shirt. His cold fingers wander beneath the large piece of clothing where Yoongi finds the need to fulfill his desire of touching you, large hands groping your breasts and tracing outlines on the expanse of your skin.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Yoongi states, sliding a finger through your folds. Dangerously testing the waters by shallowly dipping a digit and removing it and repeating the action all over again. “Yoongi,” you hiss as your grip on his forearms tighten. “I need your cock. Now.” He spares no time in removing his shirt on you, knowing that you have a secret clothed-sex kink from a drunken rant he’d accidentally listened to while you were talking to your friend while he was away for a concert.

He lays you down on the table, feet dangling off the edge and legs already spread open for him. Yoongi slides into you with ease, resisting the strong urge to cum on impact. He nestles himself deep within your walls, reveling in the feeling of his cock a snug fit inside your warm pussy. It’s been so long and it’s with a particular squeezing of your walls that reminds him that his palm could never identify with how your pussy feels.

“God, princess,” Yoongi moans, steadily rocking his hips back and forth. He takes his time with you, pushing his cock so deep that every thrust still has you clutching on the edges of table. “Yoongi,” you moan softly as his eyes close for a moment, savoring the feeling. With one hand on your hip, he trails the other beneath your shirt, lifting it up a little so one breast is exposed and the other still hidden under its confines.

You can tell how much he’s missed this as much as you. He looks down at you with lust darkened eyes, chest rising and falling in time with his hips. As much as you enjoyed slow sex with Yoongi, you can’t help but goad him on whining when you tell him to go faster.

Yoongi grabs hooks his hands under your knees and straightens your legs so they’re resting against his shoulders. You can’t help the loud cry that escapes your lips when he draws back and thrusts into you at once, impaling you with his cock. Your vision is getting blurry as your husband continues to drill into you, that familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach growing drastically by the second.

It’s with this particular angle that Yoongi is hitting that sweet spot and in a few seconds you and Yoongi finally reach your high and it’s the most beautiful thing ever because you rarely climax at the same time. Yoongi continues to back and forth between your folds, riding out his high.

Your orgasm is so strong that your legs are still trembling slightly when Yoongi guides them down from his shoulders. He peppers kisses on your thigh first, then your neck and your cheek, sitting down on a chair when he deems his post-sex pampering over.

Yoongi looks blissed out, a lovely rosy tinge coloring his cheeks. He feels like he’s been provided with renewed strength despite what just transpired a few moments ago. You sit up, only to enjoy what a view Yoongi is after times like this. There’s a sheen layer of sweat on his torso, giving it a slight glimmer when the sunlight slipping through the curtains touches his skin.

You open your mouth to say something when you hear the baby’s first cry of the day. Yoongi looks up at you from the chair and gets up, assuring you that he’ll handle it. Once he’s taken a few steps away you call at him, “Where’s my dessert?!” Yoongi scowls hard as he turns back to face you, pointing a thumb against his chest. “That wasn’t enough dessert yet?” Yoongi’s scowl turns into a sinister smile before he walks away again.

“Better get ready for round 2 later then!” he says with a wave, disappearing from your sight.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Hey!! I am the anon who’s requested, many things for the Punk!AU, and I’ve loved every single one, even all the little changes you’ve made to the request. Would it be okay to please write the Honeymoon between Jaskier and The Reader? Thanks so much!!! x

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,260 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @mycat-is-mylove a/n: I remembered that reader is pregnant when they get engaged and timed out where she’d be in the pregnancy and landed on this idea. I hope you like this little snippet of how I see their honeymoon playing out. There is a fic planned for the future when they take their REAL honeymoon trip after Sam is born. Enjoy!

Whoever called it “morning” sickness was either super misinformed or just a dick. You and Jaskier had talked through whether you’d be well enough to go on the honeymoon and since you were still in the first trimester you’d felt confident in booking the flight to Paris. In the last week or so, though, your body had been through hell and it felt like there would just be more of the same for a bit. As you pulled yourself off of the airport bathroom floor and went to wash your hands and rinse out your mouth you took a look in the mirror. This was not the face of the fresh-faced bride off on an adventure. This was a sick, tired person who was praying for a merciful death. Still, you were determined to pull it together and go ahead with the trip. Jaskier had planned it so carefully and you wanted him to have a nice time. You tried to freshen up a bit and by the time you moved to leave the bathroom you thought you actually did a pretty good job. You took a deep breath, pushing down the queasiness, and confidently strode out of the bathroom where Jaskier looked up from his phone, concern etched on his face.

“Ready?” you asked brightly. He placed both hands on your arms and tilted his head, ocean blue eyes fixing you with a look that said he wasn’t fooled a bit.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly.

“Jaskier no, it’ll be fine!” you protested.

“As much as I love your determination, I’m not going to push us through a trip just because it seems like a thing we *should* do. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself,” he insisted.

“Well… maybe you could still go? Maybe with Geralt or Aevryn or someone?” you asked. He looked at you incredulously, opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and finally just took your arm and picked up his bag.

“I am not going on our honeymoon with my friend, you ridiculous woman,” he said with a little chuckle, “We’re going to go home and I’m going to pour you a bath and we are going to have a lovely week at home. Phones off, comfortable, just you and me and all nine seasons of the office.”

He spoke the words in a seductive little purr, strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as he guided you back through the main lobby and outside towards the car you’d paid to park at the airport through the week you’d planned on being gone.

“That does sound nice,” you admitted begrudgingly.

“I may even be convinced to bake you some croissants,” he said as he opened your door for you. By the time he got to his side of the car you’d strapped in and considered what he’d said.

“I didn’t know you could make croissants,” you said.

“Oh I’ve never done it,” he explained, “But it can’t be that hard.”

-----

You weren’t sure how they’d done it but in the hour you were at the airport your friends had gone to your house and transformed it. The basics were still there of course, same furniture, but when you walked into the front door there was music playing and a platter of fruits. In the fridge you found a variety of cheeses and there were a couple of baguettes that were actually warm to the touch. In the bedroom there were mints on your pillows and fluffy robes and slippers. In the bedroom there was a set of nice bath oils and bubbles and scrubs and towels that matched the robes. Jaskier went to get you some water and when he returned with the bottle of san Pellegrino in a champagne bucket filled with ice you were crying, sitting on the edge of the tub holding the little jar of rose petals that had been lovingly placed there by your friends.

“Darling what is it?” Jaskier asked, crouching by your side.

“It’s just all so sweet and they’re so good,” you replied, sniffling. He moved in to hug you but you quickly shoved him aside and when he sat back up he pulled back your hair, smiling when he noticed a velvet scrunchie had been left by the edge of the tub. They really had thought of everything.

Jaskier filled the tub when you were done and as you sunk below the lavender scented water you took a deep breathe of relief. You tried to coax Jaskier into the bath with you but he simply rolled up his sleeves and began to wash your hair, massaging the tension from your scalp and shoulders, pressing featherlight kisses against your temple and cheek and jaw and shoulder as he went. By the time you were done with the bath you were half-awake and Jaskier wrapped you in the fluffy towel and when you stretched out on the bed he stretched out next to you. You fell asleep with your head pressed against his chest, his hand rubbing small circles in your back and his voice singing a quiet melody in your ear.

You woke to the sound of him yelling.

-----

“Fucking French people with their insane fucking recipes fuck!”

As soon you reached the bottom of the stairs your eyes widened in surprise. There was flour everywhere – made more noticeable by the dark wooden floors which Jaskier slid on as he tried to move around the floor. There was a great deal of flour on him as well and something that looked like it could be dough in his hair and hands and some on his nose. The counters were covered with butter and dough and a cookbook you’d been given as a wedding present was propped up by a bottle of wine which Jaskier regularly took drinks from. There was a slightly mad look in his eyes and you would have been concerned if you weren’t so utterly amused.

“I’d ask if everything’s ok but I think it’s pretty obvious that it’s not,” you said with a little smirk. He looked up in surprise, oblivious to your arrival, and gestured at the whole kitchen widely.

“Well this is… listen, I’m making croissants if I have to sell my soul to do it,” he said fervently. You walked closer, skidding slightly on the flour but steadying yourself on the counter. You rested your hands on his arms, much as he had that morning, and fixed him with a very similar look of tenderness and determination and a dash of amusement.

“Let’s clean up,” you said softly.

“Y/N no, I will make this work!” he protested.

“As much as I love that you want to do this for me, I would much rather have my husband in our bed than in this kitchen. We can just order in something from the bakery that made those baguettes. And while we wait for them to arrive, I can return the favor and wash some of this off of you,” you said with a suggestive little smirk. You saw warring emotions in Jaskier’s eyes, he struggled let go of something once he’d decided to do it. But your robe was a bit loose and he saw a glimpse of you through the parting fabric and suddenly croissants seemed a distant memory. You took his hand and began to lead him up the stairs.

“I’ll clean that up later,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the kitchen.

“Oh I know, love,” you replied sweetly, “Because I’m definitely not. I’m on my honeymoon.”

[cookinguptales]

Today, SCOTUS is hearing arguments about whether businesses should have to cover birth control for their employees in their health insurance plans and I just. It’s hard to read.

I was going to make up this big informational persuasive post about the situation. But I’m just. I’m just so sad and angry and tired. So I figured I’d make an emotional one instead.

Let me tell you about my hormonal birth control journey. 

(Rest under a cut for length and content. cw: mental illness, graphic discussion of medical issues, injuries, & menstruation, discussions of suicide & self-harm, discussion of opioids, alcohol, & recreational drug use.)

 I started taking hormonal birth control late in high school to help regulate “painful periods”. It wasn’t for actual birth control at that point and I hadn’t been diagnosed with any disease, not even POTS yet. I just had “painful periods”.

Things were okay for a little while, but when I got to college, things started to fall apart. The double whammy of undiagnosed mental illness and a barely-diagnosed chronic illness (POTS was relatively unknown at the time and my doctors gave me information which I now know is incorrect) really caused me to spiral during my first year of college. I didn’t know it yet, but I react very poorly to some forms of hormonal birth control. Put succinctly, they drive me batshit insane. On one pill, I literally did not leave my apartment for over a month. I became very literally agoraphobic. Bouncing off the walls, irritable, angry, high suicidal ideation. As bad as side effects can be.

But I didn’t know that yet. I just stopped taking BC as part of the whirlwind of medicines and doctors that my life became for about two years while I was on my (first) medical leave from college.

My ribs were coming out back then. I didn’t know that yet, either. I knew that when I was around 16, I started getting severe back pains. The first time it happened, I had to go to the ER because I couldn’t breathe and my teachers thought I was having a heart attack. I got a narcotic shot in my butt. It did nothing to dull the pain. That’s how much it hurt. But it went away on its own eventually and I over the years I started medicating reoccurrences with a lot of different things. Physical therapy. Muscle relaxers. (Medically prescribed) opiates that made me puke. Prescription strength Advil. Wine.

I didn’t see that it was all connected yet. Not yet. I didn’t realize, with my periods as irregular as they were, that the back pains were coming around the same time in my cycle each time.

My “painful periods” got worse. I talked to an OBGYN, with my mother in the room. I told her that I was scared of something like childbirth. I knew that my blood flow was dangerously bad. What if the fetus didn’t get enough blood? Oh, my doctor laughed, that wasn’t a problem. The fetus would always get enough blood. The risk was that I wouldn’t. That it, like the tiny vampire it was, would take it all until I simply died. If I got pregnant, I would likely die. I asked about permanent sterilization. My mother cried. My doctor said no. I didn’t ask again.

I went back on birth control.

It was odd. I didn’t want children before that visit, not really. I was so tired all the time. I knew I’d never be able to manage to raise a child — and honestly, I didn’t care to try. I was so depressed. I was so sick. It sounded like so much work. I still don’t want to have kids. But it still feels… weird, knowing that I can’t. And knowing that I could die if I get knocked up.

I’m bisexual, but I have zero sexual contact with men (because I don’t love them, despite being somewhat sexually attracted to them) and zero sexual contact with people with penises (because they could literally kill me and it would be no one’s fault). But I’ve been followed home by men before. I’ve had cabbies lock me in and ask me for a date. I’ve had men who won’t take no for an answer. And my god, it terrifies me that I might have to deal with both sexual assault and a slowly creeping murder all at once.

(It’s laughable to think he’d be tried for both.)

I ended up getting sick off birth control a few times. I went on and off it periodically during my college career. I now in retrospect see that a lot of my “meltdowns” were a combination of discrimination-based stress, physical breakdowns, and hormonal whirlwinds. At my worst times, I was on birth control. The wrong ones.

My periods, over time, got worse. My back would hurt. The cramps were unbelievable. I couldn’t feel my legs. I could feel them too much. I couldn’t keep food down. I’d be so angry, so sad, so everything.

I went to the doctor again. I was diagnosed with both endometriosis and PMDD. PMDD, or premenstrual dysphoria disorder, is like PMS on steroids. I remember telling my doctor, in halting tones, that I wasn’t well before my periods. That I always had depression, always had anxiety, but I wasn’t well before periods. At her prodding, I confessed that sometimes I would just lie there for hours, for days, in the fetal position. That I’d clutch at my own arms, mooring myself, because I knew that those white knuckles were the only thing between me and killing myself. That my brain, always somewhat malevolent, became an inescapable mantra of death. That I’d just lie there and sob because it took everything I had not to hurt myself. That I’d find claw marks, bruises, on my arms later, and all I could do was get some ice.

It was better than the alternative.

I told my doctor about how painful my periods had always been. How I’d heard a story once about, y’know, that Spartan boy? The one who hid a fox kit under his shirt during an examination and stayed perfectly silent even as it clawed at him so he wouldn’t be caught with it? How it tore at his stomach until he fell down dead, still silent? I told her how I felt like I was holding a fox kit every damn month and sometimes I couldn’t stand the pain of it. Sometimes I considered ending that pain, one way or another.

She put me back on birth control.

A little less than a year later, or in layman’s terms, about a year ago, my mental health was so bad again that I was almost committed. Literally committed. I had to go stay with my parents for a few months while I transitioned to new medications because it wasn’t safe for me to be alone. I learned that the birth control I was on could create those symptoms — but they didn’t start until months after you’d started taking it. So you didn’t realize it was the medicine. You just assumed you were crazy and unlikable and so, so angry. At the world, at your loved ones, but mostly at yourself.

I learned, around that time, that I also had Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. That the pain I felt every month right before my period wasn’t just cramps. It was my bones coming undone from their sockets. It was my hips dislocating. It was my ribs popping out of my spine. I realized that that lump my parents could feel in my back wasn’t a hard knot of tense muscles. It was my fucking rib poking out of my back. I learned that there is a period right before menstruation that mimics a period during pregnancy where your joints loosen — your body thinks it is preparing you for birth, for loosening your pelvic cavity so an entire head can pass through. For someone with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, that period of joint looseness was enough to wreak absolute havoc on a system of already-weakened joints.

I learned how to put my own ribs back in with a foam roller. I started drinking marijuana tea for the pain. I went on a different birth control. I stopped taking the placebo pills. I had to fully eradicate that entire portion of my cycle. Goodbye PMDD and ribs constantly popping out. I don’t miss you!

I am still on that pill, y’know. Every day I take it and wonder if I’m one step closer to the day when it inevitably destroys me. The last one took about a year. Tick tock.

Or maybe I finally found the one that works… I really just don’t know.

The fact of the matter is that I have a full handful of maladies that require birth control so I can function. PMDD, endometriosis, dangerous pregnancy, EDS. I need hormonal birth control. I would probably be dead by now without it. The PMDD especially was that bad. My internal organs are likely a scarred-up mess. But the birth control itself almost killed me, too. God, it was close.

Simply put, birth control is heaven and hell all wrapped up in a pill. It treats illnesses and it prevents pregnancy. In other words, it provides you with both freedom and peace of mind. It is absolutely essential. But it’s also monstrous. The sheer number of sometimes-deadly side effects that come with hormonal treatments is staggering. Which is why you need to be under a doctor’s careful eye when you’re on it. You need to be free to choose whichever brand you need. You need to be free to switch kinds at a moment’s notice. None of these things are possible in a system where these pills are not fully covered by insurance.

(And yes, I know, this is a stupidly American problem in so many ways. Obviously the ideal thing here would be single-payer for all medical procedures. But that’s not up for debate here and insurance for BC is. Because for some reason we let some people’s religious convictions determine others’ health care. But I digress.)

Please don’t worry too much for me. I have a good employer who has told me in no uncertain terms that I don’t need to worry about my healthcare coverage. But there are so many people just like me. Who may not have diagnoses yet. Who may have “problem bodies”. Who only know that they need to do something and that they might have to go through several pills to find it. Whose employers either have the strong religious belief that hormonal birth control is a sin or the strong religious belief that they want to pay as little as possible for their workers’ health care. (Call me cynical.)

Those are the people I worry about. Those are the people I feel absolutely sick over as I watch the SCOTUS argue whether we should be allowed to have life-saving medicine. The people who I know will fall through the cracks the second that the cracks are widened enough for them to do so. The people who will die.

It’s a tense time right now. It’s a tense time for very obvious reasons. But this morning I find myself to be even tenser, and my stomach hurts thinking about it. It feels like all I can do is stare at a pill packet and remember every horrible reason I need it and every horrible thing it’s done to me and I just.

It’s a lot.

[lets-break-free-from-our-chains]

Dawn of A New Age in Ice-Roan x Wife!reader

Requested: I would like a king roan x reader were the reader is pregnant with roans child and tells him. after the conclave he survived because he hold his breath and stopped moving and later a little bit after 6 years, there child or children what you want have a different special blood called: Azblida ( ice blood) and the story  is up to you if you want. from the 100 I would like that :)        

A/N: Hi guys! I promised you all a Roan x Reader and I finally was able to find the time to sit down and write. It ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be, but that's okay because the more Roan the better! Let me know if you guys want me to go into more detail on the whole Azblida story and do another imagine that’s a spin off of this one but focuses more on the twins, Malia and Tobias. I don’t own the any of the gifs and pictures I used, they all belong to there rightful own. Also the picture is not what the twins look like in the story; you can decide what your kids would look like with Roan, lol. Anyways I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think; I always love hearing from you all -xoxoxo

Word Count: 5.5k

You can barely remember what the sun felt like on your face, and how fresh the air smelled. It was radiation-soaked air, but never-the-less your sentiments were the same. It was beautiful and now it was gone. Azgeda, your beloved home was gone; forever. Though you always remind yourself that you have more, from the old world, than most. You have your husband, your twins, and your life. You have far more than most do and so you always remember to humble yourself when you find yourself becoming to melancholy about the Red Dawn Bunker.

“Your lips are pursed and your making that all too familiar face, again.” a strong voice, chuckled from behind you. There was no need for you to look; you knew that heavenly voice anywhere.

 You turned in the chair at your writing desk to face Roan and found him leaning on the side of your bookcase. You sighed as you spoke,

 “And your leaning on my bookcase. Again.”

 Roan’s eyes widened slightly, and he had the decency to look sheepish as he quickly straightened his stance away from his notorious spot against my bookcase. The bookcase would start to become loose and wobble back and forth from the pressure of his gigantic frame leaning against it. Very rarely, did you let small things bother you, but that was one of the few things that could always irk you. However, you knew Roan didn’t do it on purpose and that’s why you were always gentle in your reprimands towards him for the absent-minded tendency.

 “Forgive me, my love.”  he says, as he approaches your chair; to place an intimate kiss behind your right ear. “I always seem to forget, despite my best efforts to remember.”

 “I know, darling. It’s why I remain forever patient in my regards to that specifically vexing habit.” You slyly caught his eyes, with a playful smirk. He laughed at the good-natured slight, as he caressed the sides of your upper arms and dropped a light kiss to your left temple.

 “Well thank you for being so patience with me, my queen. Perhaps, the day may yet come when I remember to refrain myself from such a vexing habit.”

 You threw him a humorous hum with a ‘We shall see’ look on your face, as he playfully shakes his head at you with a highly amused chuckle.  Something was missing though, and it was then that you realized the twins weren’t with him; as they normally would have added their own funny sarcasm by now.

 “Where’s Tobias and Malia at? It’s not safe for them to be without guards.” You mused out loud.

 “No need to worry, (Y/N/N). The twins are training with Gaia and Indra. With plenty of guards to watch over them while they train.” Roan hastened the words out into the air, as if sensing and quickly, seeking to placate your slightly distressed stated; to which you sighed in relief.

 Only to have the distress flood your body once more and turn your blood ice cold. You stood, so quickly, that your chair scraped against the floor as it was pushed away. You moved to sit next to Roan on your shared bed, where you leaned into his enormous figure for much needed comfort and security. You whispered so soft, it almost wasn’t there, “Blodreina won’t be there, will she?”

 “I don’t want her filling our babies’ heads with insanities and atrocities.” You managed to choke out, distressingly harsh whisper, before Roan wrapped you in his arms and gently hushed you. Roan knew you were forever worrying about what Blodreina was up too.

 While the both of you gave your support to her leadership, you were far from comfortable with her power. Especially since she was given her well-earned title; Blodreina. When Roan informed you that people were calling her by that title, you nearly fell out into the floor. Roan didn’t see the big deal in the name until you told him about the eternal and infamous story behind The Red Queen. He’d never heard about the story of the red queen, and while Roan was very intelligent and educated; he hasn’t ever been the kind of person to sit down and read fairytales, and you’d never been able to imagine a dimension where Nia read him fairytales.

 He began to share your same worries after you told him about The Red Queen in the fairytale and historical women like Queen Mary I of England who was later named Bloody Mary for killing hundreds of people, in a five year reign, who didn’t believe in what she believed in. Then, there was Countess Elizabeth Báthory who was given the title, The Blood Countess for killing over an estimated 650 people and most likely more just to satisfy her base pleasure for blood sport.

 You told Roan that those women had plenty in common, but their self-destruction was marked by one particular poison. They had power and eventually they began to like that power. Finally, along the way they developed an obsessive love for that power that inhibited their senses and left them without the ability to see that there are limits and there are lines and we cross them, it builds a wall where those lines used to be. It’s nearly impossible to break those walls down, let alone climb them, to get back to the other side.

 “The twins are two of the few fortunate souls in nightmarish bunker. They were only babies when the Dark Year happened; they don’t have to know the turmoil of trying to find a way to live with the horrific crimes they committed against humanity. They are two of the only ones that are truly pure and innocent.”

The desperation and fear in your soft voice was loud and clear to Roan and it pulled at his heart in ways most couldn’t understand. You’re his wife and the mother of his children, to see you in despair of any level hurt him more than words could describe. You were right though; the twins were lucky when it came to all the things everyone in the bunker had to do to survive.

 It’s times like that when you want more than anything to be above ground where you and Roan where rulers and could properly protect your children. Though you are protecting the twins by making a deal with Blodreina, you both knew that at any moment she could decide to break off the deal and her cult followers would only continue to follow. There no sense of true honor in the bunker anymore. No, that moral luxury died in the fighting pit years ago; the Dark Year to be exact. However, you and Roan were both aware that no matter how much protection you give the twins, there would always be danger to close for peace of mind.   they were the luckiest and also the most unfortunate, at least when it comes to power, that is. Azblidas.

 Nearly invincible creatures it seemed like. When you were pregnant with the twins it felt like you were always freezing, and they were active and strong from the very first kick that appeared to never cease it seemed. Not that you minded, it felt like you were bonding with them and that’s one of the reasons you’d read aloud to them even when you still carried them in your womb.

 |Flashback; Waiting for Roan’s Victory|

You waited behind the flame that told you, your husband, the king was still alive and fighting. Echo waiting anxiously with you, and what would have been consider your Lady’s maid in a time before Primfiya, Cordelia, forever by your side, offered you the support and comfort you desperately needed. Cordelia was a woman in her early thirties; she had smooth olive skin with heart shaped lips, big brown honey-hued eyes and framed by thick dark brown hair. You tried to decide whether it was wavy or curly before settling with the decision that it was both; Delia’s hair was gorgeous either way. She was a strong and wise woman, and she was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. She stepped towards you from behind you, to whisper in your left ear;

 “Did you tell him?”

There was nothing you hid from Delia and there was nothing she hid from you. She took care of you every day, ran errands for you, helped you with your responsibilities as Queen, offered you wisdom and comfort, and generally just made your busy and chaotic life easier for you. She with you every day, all day even if you hadn’t told her you were pregnant, she was more than smart enough to figure it out all by herself.

 You turned your head to the left, though your eye lingered on the flame representing Roan’s life; “No, I didn’t want to distract him from the conclave. I wanted him to have a level head and his guard up. He has enough to carry on his shoulders, I will not knowingly add to those burdens.”

 You could see she was about to say more but stopped and thought about it a few seconds longer before she looked at you with understanding eyes and soft smile, followed with a gentle nod.

 Your attention was directed back to the room around you as Indra’s daughter, Gaia came from the balcony. It was down to Octavia, Luna, and Roan; you held your breath as the scout approach remaining flames with a candle snuff.  Gaia voice sound like it was far away and somewhere underwater; “Roan kom Azgeda, yu gonplei ste odon.”

 You swear your heart stopped as the nameless scout destroyed Roan’s flame. It felt like you could breathe, as if someone had cut you open and ripped your heart and lungs from your chest. The pain was…unbearable. You manage to let out one long mournful wail, that chilled the blood of everyone in the room, before that became to painful and physically impossible for you it seemed.

 You suddenly felt faint and reached out for something to steady yourself with. Cordelia was shaken out of her shock when she saw you stumble backwards in a slight sway. She rushed up behind you and settled a strong right hand on your hip before clasping your left hand with hers. “My Queen?! Your Grace, can you hear?! (Y/N), it’s me, Cordelia!” Delia waited for a response, but only received a soft breathless gasp that sounded faintly like ‘help’. Cordelia didn’t have any time to ask again before she felt your body give out. She caught your body and gently lowered the both of you to the ground.

 “HELP! GET HELP! Find a healer, the Queen’s fainted!” Delia cried out, in desperate panic. You could see Delia and Echo’s faces above you and their mouths were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything as darkness invaded and conquered your vision.

 |Flashback; prior to The Final Conclave|

 The happiness and relief you felt, when you had woken to Roan’s handsome face, was unlike any kind of happiness you ever felt before. You first thought that you were dead and that you had actually died of a broken heart, but you soon realized that you were in fact alive when you saw Cordelia; perched on the edge of her chair, to right side of the bed, in anticipation.

 Roan was so elated to see that you had awoken and pounced forward to press a passionate kiss to your lips. You’d frozen in surprise and slight shocked till you relaxed into the welcomed kiss and poured your love and longing into the greatly needed moment. Cordelia smiled; quietly backing away and turning in the other direction to give her king and queen privacy. You felt him gently place his large hand over your womb where your child rested. You would later come to find out that it was two babes not just one.

 When he reluctantly pulled away, you could see the questions in his eyes, but he decided it was best not to overwhelm you in your delicate condition. Normally you would have bristled at the someone deeming you delicate, however, at that moment you were grateful because no matter how much you refused to admit it you really didn’t have the energy to talk about something so serious.

 Even if you did have the energy you still had bigger problems. Roan informed you that Octavia had won the Final Conclave and decided to give one hundred spots to each of the 12 clans to show that we were equals and were destined to unite as Wonkru. You were surprised to hear he accepted the notion. He was so adamant when it came to winning the Red Dawn solely for their clan’s survival.

 When he saw your unbridled surprise and questioning gaze as you studied him, he merely chuckled fondly; “The only reason I’m alive is because I didn’t give up, I held onto my last breath until that psychotic Natblida released her hold on me. If I’m going to give up my last breath to anyone, it’ll be to my queen. Preferably in my beloved queen’s arms, in our old age after living a long and meaningful life.”

 You being who you were, had replied with a forever-loving and playful taunt; “Oh Roan, you’re secretly a hopeless romantic! Good thing I find that an attractive trait in my king, huh?”

 He had given you an amused smirk and eyeroll, but the look in his eyes soften considerably when he heard you whisper a heartfelt ‘Ai hod in yu, Ai Hairein…’

 “Ai hod in yu too, Ai Haireina”

 |Flashback; Birth of the Bluebloods|

 The pain was unimaginable and overbearing, as it crashed over you in relentless waves; only getting strong and more painful as time dragged on. Cordelia was to the left of you trying to make you as comfortable as possible, while Roan sat behind, in between you and the metal headboard, as he spoke words of encouragement into your ear.

 You were sweating ice chips; how you could sweat and still be cold was beyond your comprehension. Perhaps its better that you were cold and not hot because there was no “wasting water” of any amount in the bunker; not even to cool off a pregnant woman in labor.

 You screamed and growled in pain, only to spat insults at Roan; while attempting to break every bone in his hand, for compensation. He was a good, but slightly terrified, sport about it and continued encouraging you with the occasional apology. One final push and your shrieking baby was born. Abby looked at the squirming irritated babe in her hands with slight panic.

 “What? What’s the matter?” You asked in confusion, before the unbridled panic set in; “Is something wrong with my child?! Give me my baby!”

 You held your arms out, expectantly, only to become furious when Abby handed the babe off to Jackson; who took her to a different part of the room.

 “NOW! GIVE ME MY BABY, NOW!” You wailed, your angry and agony, over your baby’s wellbeing, beginning to enter twine. Roan began to become angry to, as he saw the state you’d quickly been reduced too.

 “Give us our baby, now; or I’ll have your heads” He snarled but was interrupted by a different and sharper cry of pain, leaving your lips.

 Y our hand quickly cupped your swollen belly to soothe the pain in your lower abdomen.

 “There’s another!” Abby whispered; “I had to have Jackson check your daughter; she was ice cold and had a blueish tint to her skin, but you need to concentrate on the birthday of your second baby.”

 “Daughter? Roan and I have a daughter?” You whispered, with hitched breaths induced in pain. To which Abby confirmed with a firm nod and soft yes.

 “Malia.” Roan said.

 Your smile, at hearing her name, left your face as another pain hit you and you focused on delivering your second child. It took 4 more pushes before your second baby was brought into the world. Abby looked at the child and told you and Roan had a son, before she hears Jackson perplexed voice.

 “Huh, Abby? Do you have any idea why this baby was born with blue blood?”

 Everyone’s held shot to Jackson as he held up a tube of blood with a blueish silver to show Abby.

 “Azblidas!” Gaia exclaimed, with an awe-struck face; “Queen (Y/N) was given birth to a god and goddess among men. Far more sacred and rare than Natblidas and a lot stronger and faster than them too. They’re nearly invincible, its incredibility hard to mortally injure an Azblida. They hold the highest positions in grounder society and each one is as legendary as the next one. An Azblida hasn’t been born in over a century and now there are two.

 Gaia had come to the delivery in the hopes of your child being a Natblida but was graced with not one, but two children destined to be the most powerful beings in your world.

 “This is a sign that the old ways of the faith are not dead. We must show our loyalty to the faith; protect them at all cost and train the Azblidas in the sacred ways, when they’re old enough.” Indra spoke, as she stepped up next to her daughter side. Indra had thought the days of the faith were dead, but she had been proven wrong; in more ways than one.

 “Well now that we’ve decide my babes are strong and healthy; can I have my babies now?” You tiredly asked.

Abby and Jackson gave you and Roan your children and everyone left to give you privacy. “We have a beautiful son and daughter, my king”

 He contently hummed in agreement; “Malia and Tobias, the strongest of the strong; you did an amazing job, my queen. I love you.”

 “I love you too.”

 |Flashback; The Dark Year|

 A famine had stormed the bunker and threatened to take everyone to the shores of the afterlife. No environmental calamity on earth had ever scared you as much as this famine and you lived through the Second Pramfiya. You were born in Azgeda and lived through the deadliest winters know to man, deep within the territory of Azegda, at the royal dwelling built in a region named; The Land of Eternal Winter. Those winters in perpetual ice glaciers and snow was easier to deal with than this famine.

 You had been sick to your stomach ever since you and Roan’s meeting with Octavia and the other advisors. Cooper had told you the extent of the damage to the hydro farm and the only response to Octavia question on how to feed 1200 people, was Abby’s. You could live with throwing real criminals, that truly threatened the people surviving, into the pit. However, throwing people in there to fight to the death so we had a protein source was horrifying barbaric; even for Azgeda.

 “This is wrong. It dangerous.” You stated, and everyone turned to you; “All of you know as well as I do that what your considering is a pandora box waiting to be open. That’s always what happens…It. Never. End. Well. For any of us!”

 “Then give me another option.” Octavia’s eyes pleaded you. “Please!”  she begged, in whisper to you. She didn’t want to consider what Abby suggested, you knew that, but it seemed to be the only option if she wanted her people to survive the six years.

 You and Roan shared a worried look before Octavia ended the meeting.

 ______________

 You and Roan sat side by side at the same table with Octavia and the other advisors; where your gaze lingered down at the big red cube. Roan’s face gave a slight grimace at the sight of his cube and when Octavia gave her speech and took a bite, you knew it would end badly. You and Roan remained unmoved, and locked gazes with one another, before Abby called your name.

 “(Y/N). If you don’t get the nutrients your body needs, eventually it becomes a very high outcome that your body will stop producing milk and you’d no longer be able to feed Malia and Tobias.”

 Your eyes widened at the very likely possibly. It hadn’t crossed your mind that the affect to the rest of your body would also affect your babies only food source. Still you needed to know from someone you could completely trust, so you call out Marcus’ name to which he responded.

 “Is it true, Marcus? It that a very likely possibility?” He hesitated before sighing with a nod. You looked in Roan’s direction to see his heavily burdened and troubled eyes; he to hadn’t consider the possibility.

 You couldn’t endanger your children any more than they already were. Roan grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers as he whispered;

 “Together. We do it together like we always do.”

 You gave a slight nod, “Together. To ensure Malia and Tobias survive.” You gazed at the cube in exasperation and dread.

 This will end badly. For everyone.

 |Flashback; training the twins|

 Tobias and Malia were growing fast and would be nearing their 6th birthday soon enough. The older and stronger they grew, the more Blodreina showed interest in them. Whether the attention extended from what they and their blood could give her or take from her, was unknown. That notion alone was an unsettling and endless haunting, that antagonized the forever-watchful parents.

 To you, Blodreina was a red serpent, hidden and patience, waiting to strike and take all you held dear and sacred. You never imagined you’d see Octavia as your enemy, but now Octavia wasn’t just an enemy. She was your greatest enemy, and the most dangerous of all the enemies you’d ever faced. One thing you were 100% sure of; Blodreina was a threat, that you and Roan couldn’t afford when it came to your Azblida children.

 She wouldn’t do anything questionable, as of right now, though. Your children had acquired quite the following from both former Trikru and Azgeda alike. Not only people of the old faith, but also people who turn away in disgust of the way people live in Wonkru and believe Blodreina has truly crossed some of the most important limits and lines.

 There was a little over 400 faith followers; leaving it an even fight after hundreds died in the fighting pits for sport among other reasons. Despite what Octavia may think about Wonkru’s strength, it wasn’t enough to overthrow 300 years of faith. Especially after the wonders you delivered into the world when you bared your ice-blooded children to your husband.

 Gaia and Indra were finishing up the twins’ lessons for the day when suddenly everyone in the room was silenced by a loud roar coming from down the hallway. Malia abruptly turned to the sudden noise only to get whacked in the arm with a practice staff, by her slightly younger brother, Tobias. Mal sharply turned back to look at Tobi out of the corner of her eyes, with a dangerous glint in her gaze. She needn’t say anything for her glare said more than her words ever could; as if to say, ‘Back off! Or you’re gonna get it, Tobi.’

 “Mal’s got her mother’s glare, for sure.” Roan guffawed, when he saw Mal’s reaction. Tobi gave his sister a sheepish look and a soft apology.

 “Tobi’s got his father’s guilty stare, for sure.” You softly snarked, with a whisper of a smile; letting Roan know you were only joking. He heartily chuckled at the tongue lash as he pulled you into him to give you a deep kiss; to which you gave back. Malia stormed over a question she asked many times, but never got an answer too.

 “Momma, what’s that noise we always hear from the end of the hallway? Behind the red doors with the strange symbol on it.”

 Gaia and Indra halted as they shared a look with each other before sharing a similar one with you and Roan. The guards and the two women wait for your response to the inquisitive girl’s question. You sigh before you decide to tell them.

 You leave Roan’s arms and walk to the young boy and girl; “A faithless and immoral world lays beyond those doors. A world bathed in red- “

 “Why red, Ma?”  The soft voice of Tobias spoke, as his head cocked to the side.

 “Because it is a place where blood flows and never stops. It will forever be painted in blood and living in that world are monstrous creatures declaring themselves human; who never cease in their howls for carnage. Many people have died in that place for simple pleasure. The monsters in disguise made those people fight in a lonely and terrifying place, known as the pit. Similar to the Gladiators of Ancient Rome and all the while they only roar in hunger for more. You must never find yourself in that position. It is the one place in the world where you will truly be alone. You’ll have no friends, no support, not even each other.”

 Malia and Tobias hang onto her every word; “Why couldn’t we just fight our way to each other and our freedom, Momma?”

 “You can try, my darlings. However, even if you were to kill all of your opponents, there will be a Great Red Serpent, coiled on a throne of chrome, waiting hidden and patience. Even if you’re the last one standing, she still gets to decide whether you live or die. Promise me you will never find yourself in such a place that lacks all honor and humanity. Even if you do find yourself unfortunate enough to be in such a place, promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to free yourselves.”  

 They both immediately swore it to you, and you gave a firm nod in acknowledgment. Once they returned to finishing up their training you looked to Roan and you both shared a look of understanding as you sought the comfort of his arms. It was only a matter of time.

 It was all just a big waiting game.

 |Flashback; Bellamy saves your family|

 You slowly approached Bellamy from your place at Roan side; sliding through the space between Tobias and Malia, who were hugged, protectively, to you and Roan’s bodies. A defense mechanism developed early on in the time since your twins were born, and rightfully so.

 Several emotions seemed to flow over Bellamy’s face at the sight of you; Shock, happiness, love, and a look you knew only too well. Fear. You and Bellamy were best friends, practically brother and sister, ever since you first met in Polis. It was an unlikely bond formed between two people from two different worlds, but somehow you both were able to look past that particular difference.

 When you saw the fear pass over him, all you wanted to do was show him you weren’t mad at him for not being able to keep his promise. In a way he did come back and that’s exactly what you told him. You looked at him in awe as you reached him and quickly pulled him into a tight hug, “You came back…you kept your promise to me.”

 You’ve felt and seen enough fear to last a lifetime, but that is no more, now that Bellamy had freed you all from the serpent cloaked in red death. You knew the words registered in his mind after a few seconds because his arms immediately tightened around you, in a comforting strength. You placed your lips near his right ear to whisper, “Thank you, Bells. You saved us all from the Red Serpent.”

 As you pulled away and watched his reaction, he looked at you in a questioning worry. “(Y/N/N) …” he whispered, before his concerned eyes connected with Octavia’s soulless irises.

 His gaze dropped back to you and what appeared to be a sad but edged anxiety shrouding your tired features. Your eyes and words told him everything and nothing about what he needed to know. Then, his attention was captured by two, inhumanly beautiful and young, twins nestled safely against Roan’s sides.

 ‘You and Roan had children…’ He mused, in mild wonder.

 Realization struck Bellamy, when he realized it was a well-guarded and deeply apprehensive fear; heavily veiling your face.

 |Present time; Ascension to a Hollow Kingdom|

 You assured the twins, after they began to fuss in worry, that you would be waiting for them to ascend, at the top. Poor Tobias looked sick with stress as he watched you like a hawk. He was almost always worrying over something, no matter how big or small, and the fact that he was a Momma’s boy didn’t help his fretting. Roan would fondly say their Tobias takes after his mother; when it came to worrying and pondering.

 Tobias was as cautious as he was dangerous, which said a lot to people if they knew him. Malia and Tobias may have been young and not have extensive training, but their mere existence was dangerous; because their blood marked them with a promise of what they could be.  

 Malia’s blue eyes squinted, at Bellamy, with an edgy distrust. You could help but chuckle when you saw his slight gawk at a 6-year-old glaring at him with a no-bullshit seriousness. He even looked around the area to see if it was really him, she was staring down. It was a glare so familiar that Bellamy couldn’t decide whether the girl inherited the expression from you or Roan.

 You and Roan shared a brief but passionate kiss before you made your way to Bellamy, and the rope that would lift you and your family to your freedom. Bellamy wrapped his arm around your waist with a quick side glance to Malia and her relentless hawk eyes.

 “Bells, you’re not afraid of my 6-year-old, are you?” You teased, as you were both lifted up. Bellamy’s head slightly jerked back as he spoke;

 “What? Of course not, she’s just a kid.” He said, quietly as if he were almost afraid Mal would hear.

 “Uh huh, yeah whatever gets you through the day.” You taunted, “By the way, I like the scruff. Very sexy.”

 He laughed at the playful comment, as he slyly looked at you, and jokingly says; “I thought you might. You always had a thing for men with scruffs”

 “No, I always had a thing for Roan with a scruff.” You giggled with mirth. The two of you, soon enough, reached the beautiful and blinding light that glowed around you. Two foreign men helped you to ground level and you froze in awe as you take in the sight laid before you. It was a wasteland, but it was Earth, your home. You vaguely felt Bellamy’s eyes, hovering on you, but you were more focused with all the open space as far as the eyes could see.

 Something you had forgotten while cramped into that hellish bunker with 1999 other people. “all go down to get your kids and then Roan.” He said, to which you nodded.

This is what’s left of Polis, a place where all the clans could unite in peace. You didn’t have time to ponder anymore on the thought as you heard the voices of your children.

 “Move your hand, rockhead!” Mal snapped at Tobi; only for Tobi to glare at her with pursed lips, “Move your face, halfwit!”

 Bellamy appeared to be making great effort to not laugh and looked to you for help. You took mercy on him and called your twins attention to you, “Alright, that’s enough. Can’t you two go 5 mins without making attempts to rip each other a new one?”

 They both mumbled an apology before looking around with a new wonder in their eyes you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing until now. “This is where you come from Momma?”

 You smile and nod, “It’s different from when your dad and I lived up here though. Before the Second Pramfiya, it used to be covered in fields of grass and trees and bushes as far as the eyes can see, but never-the-less I’m glad to be home and I’m happy that I get to show you our world.”

 They smile and cheer before venturing the foreign area, while still remaining close to your side. You turn as you hear Roan’s voice; “I think this is the happiest we’ve ever seen them.”

 You turned and hugged him as you watch them explore. “I think you right, but hopefully we’ll be able to give them happiness now that we’re free.” Roan nodded in agreement.

 “They look so beautiful and sweet together.” You said before Roan leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. You both pulled away when you heard the twins bickering;

 “Shut up, Mouthbreather!” Mal practically spits out, and Tobi turns back to his twin to give her a good tongue lash;

 “Oh, that great coming from you, Colonel Flap-jaw!”  

 Bellamy couldn’t contain himself any longer and starting howling in laughter at the twins’ insults; he continued to laughter as he looks at you and Roan, “Yeah, those are your kids, alright!”

 You and Roan sharing an amused glance before chuckling at your kids.