#and my parents are not angry at their parent's parent's parent's

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

I think what I find most sickening is that in the short term, a few basic trappings of life will probably improve under Trump. Especially if you're a white, straight man. Some prices will probably drop. I'm sure we'll get a couple of temporary tax cuts. Gas prices might drop. And every single person who voted for him will be like, see? See? It's not so bad...what were you worried for?

And then Roberts and Thomas will retire (or die, I don't care which) and we'll get a zealout right wing super majority locked in for the rest of my lifetime. Healthcare will start collapsing even more rapidly. Safety regulations will be even more gutted. Your children's education will become even more of a joke. And those temporary gains will fucking vanish for everyone but Trump's cronies because they will have all been bought on credit that has now come due. We'll get to see a live example of those reddit posts where parents took out credit cards and loans in their children's names and ran up insurmountable debt and fucking ruined their lives...played out on the national and world stage.

And the people that did it to us will never, ever admit they were wrong. They will wear their ignorance and malice like a badge of honor and then get angry and even more spiteful when we finally wrest the carkeys back and start doing the work to undo what damage we can.

I was so, so hopeful these last couple of months. And now I'm just so, SO tired.

[scarlet-bernard]

This is pretty much what I've been saying. This country hates women more than it hates that fascist rapist.

This country literally chose a rapist over the countless women he's assaulted. This country chose a rapist over their own daughters. Our country looked at the man that promised that we 'wouldn't need to worry about voting ever again' and 'we'll use the military against the enemies within' and said yes, we prefer this over an educated woman.

Our country and our men hate us. Our women hate themselves. I don't even understand how we could allow this asshole back into office, and yet here we are. Again. Everyone except rich, white men are going to get their rights ripped away from them. This orange asshole is more prepared this time and the people who voted for Trump, third party, or didn't bother to vote at all are at fault.

And I am very angry at that group. And moving forward I will be very unsympathetic with that group moving forward.

So many people are going to lose their lives because of that. (I'm not talking to any minors or people who were unable to vote due to external reasons mind you).

NO. your gas won't be cheaper. But thank you for letting me know that my rights and my life mean so fucking little to you.

NO. you still won't be able to buy a house. But thank you for letting me know you're okay with the women in your lives being raped.

I think my parents said it best, men get to choose the next mother of their children now, repercussions be damned. Because there really won't be any. Look at our next president! He IS a rapist and apparently none of you give a singular fuck.

The men in my hometown are excited because of this by the way. And they talk about it, you can hear them in stores and public areas. So fuck you.

If you voted for Trump? Unfollow me and block me.

If you voted for third party? Unfollow me and block me.

If you didn't vote at all and you could have? Unfollow me and block me.

I DO NOT want to be associated with ANYONE that is okay with people losing their rights and their lives. My page is not a safe fucking space for you and it will never be a safe space for you.

Women I think it's time to partake in the B4 movement. I touched on it last night in a different post but it's time. It's a movement that started in South Korea. Here's what it entails. We don't date men, we don't marry men, we don't have sex with men, and we don't have children with men.

If and when you look it up, it is NOT a radical movement. We are seeing exactly why South Korean women partook in this movement.

Even IF Kamala had won, the amount of votes, especially from men proved to me that we were never as safe or cared for as we thought and have been told and I'm over it.

It's time to be angry and stand together as women. Men don't like us anyway. I am leaning into 4B. Leave your shitty husband's before Trump takes office if you can. It's time to be angry.

both times this fucking asshole, this fucking fascist criminal is gonna become president is after winning against women. not against a party or ideology but women. people really do hate women huh. a fascist is okay. a criminal is okay. everything he says, does and represents is okay. just as long as it's not a woman leading the country.

[welcometoqueer]

Some U.S. election news updates (as of afternoon November 7, 2024):

Many states, including major battleground ones, have started recounting votes on their own despite there still being no national call for a recount. Some of these states recounting or considering recounting as of November 7, 2024 include: Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Nevada, Arizona (considering), and Texas (considering).

Most news outlets have been covering state laws regarding recounts and what a recount could mean. Notably, right-wing sources like Fox News have not mentioned the possibility of a recount or the high demand for one (hmmm).

In cities such as Chicago and Philadelphia, people took to the streets in a peaceful protest to demand a recount (wait, you can protest peacefully?? without starting an insurrection?? Crazy).

More information alleging Trump cheating has come forward, although many people are expressing their frustrations over there being little to no coverage of election interference by the mainstream media. Additionally, many Democratic voters are vowing to boycott news sources such as CNN and MSNBC due to their apparent tone-deaf and lackluster response to the allegations.

On Twitter, hashtags such as “Do Not Concede Kamala,” “Recount 2024,” “He/Trump Cheated,” and “Rigged” continue to trend nationally since election night.

Also in the Twitter hellscape, Elon Musk has been removing posts with resources, posts alleging Trump cheated, and posts with information on how to check your ballot and demand a recount. This is awfully suspicious and concerning behavior from someone who has also been accused of bribing voters, which is a federal crime.

Many people are also sharing their grief over the extreme likelihood of programs and services such as Social Security, Medicare, SNAP, the Department of Education, and others being diminished or fully gutted as many Republican lawmakers and Trump have promised to do. Already today (Nov. 7), House Republicans have proposed a bill that would reduce social security payments for U.S.Americans who receive disability benefits or a pension.

There are also concerns over imposed tariffs, the United States losing its NATO membership, and the potential dissolving of the United Nations.

Many MAGA Trump supporters have started to be more emboldened, not just in the Twitter space. Multiple parents have come forward to share that young boys at their children’s schools have also begun repeating the “your body, my choice” mantra, leaving other kids in distress.

Speaking of distress, nationwide, queer and trans people have been largely absent from work and school. Since election night, LGBTQ+ and other helplines have had long waits due to such high demand.

TW: suicide mention, skip the next paragraph

There’s been over 2000+ suicides of just LGBTQ+ individuals since election night and the numbers keep increasing drastically.

End TW

Politically, sitting President Joe Biden addressed the nation today to discuss a “peaceful transfer of power.” He addressed people questioning Donald Trump’s win and the election system saying: “It is honest, it is fair, and it is transparent, and it can be trusted, win or lose."

Needless to say, no one was pleased by his response and are still demanding an investigation or recount.

Other political figures such as Bernie Sanders and the Obamas’ released their own statements regarding the election.

The Obamas’ had a very professional yet disappointed statement.

Bernie Sanders however, took a different approach, sharing the mass sentiment among democratic voters and criticizing the Democratic Party based on their response to the situation. “It should come as no great surprise that a Democratic Party which has abandoned working class people would find that the working class has abandoned them. While the Democratic leadership defends the status quo, the American people are angry and want change. And they’re right.”

[ID:

Multiple videos and images with election news and updates.

The first video, posted to Twitter, is of an Anti-Trump protest in Chicago.

These should be peacefully taking place all over the country. This is what democracy is about, not storming Capitol buildings. Right MAGA? pic.twitter.com/lgzsP41Lze — Brian Krassenstein (@krassenstein) November 7, 2024.

The video shows people in the streets of Chicago and in front of Trump tower peacefully protesting in demand for a recount and investigation.

Protesters chants include:

“Donald Trump, you will see!”

“Racist, sexist, anti-gay! Donald Trump, go away!”

and “You’re not welcome in this town! Donald Trump, you fascist clown!”

The second video was also posted to Twitter by CALL TO ACTIVISM (@CalltoActivism) on November 6, 2024. It’s a video from MSNBC reporting on the strange behavior of Trump leading up to the election where he repeatedly said he didn't need votes. These statements seem to imply that regardless of how people voted, he expected to gain power.

The next image is of the official statement regarding the election results by Barack and Michelle Obama.

The statement reads:

STATEMENT BY PRESIDENT AND MRS. OBAMA ON THE 2024 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION NOVEMBER 6, 2024

“Over the last few weeks and through Election Day, millions of Americans cast their votes - not just for president, but for leaders at every level. Now the results are in, and we want to congratulate President Trump and Senator Vance on their victory. This is obviously not the outcome we had hoped for, given our profound disagreements with the Republican ticket on a whole host of issues. But living in a democracy is about recognizing that our point of view won't always win out, and being willing to accept the peaceful transfer of power. Michelle and I could not be prouder of Vice President Harris and Governor Walz - two extraordinary public servants who ran a remarkable campaign. And we will always be grateful to the staff and volunteers who poured their heart and soul into electing public servants they truly believed in. As I said on the campaign trail, America has been through a lot over the last few years - from a historic pandemic and price hikes resulting from the pandemic, to rapid change and the feeling a lot of folks have that, no matter how hard they work, treading water is the best they can do. Those conditions have created headwinds for democratic incumbents around the world, and last night showed that America is not immune. The good news is that these problems are solvable - but only if we listen to each other, and only if we abide by the core constitutional principles and democratic norms that made this country great. In a country as big and diverse as ours, we won't always see eye-to-eye on everything. But progress requires us to extend good faith and grace - even to people with whom we deeply disagree. That's how we've come this far, and it's how we'll keep building a country that is more fair and more just, more equal and more free.”

The last two images are Bernie Sanders’ statement on the election results, criticizing the response of the Democratic Party.

Sanders’ statement reads:

NEWS: Sanders Statement on the Results of the 2024 Presidential Election November 6, 2024 BURLINGTON, Vt. - Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) today released the following statement in response to the outcome of the 2024 presidential election:

“It should come as no great surprise that a Democratic Party which has abandoned working class people would find that the working class has abandoned them. First, it was the white working class, and now it is Latino and Black workers as well. While the Democratic leadership defends the status quo, the American people are angry and want change. And they're right. Today, while the very rich are doing phenomenally well, 60% of Americans live paycheck to paycheck and we have more income and wealth inequality than ever before. Unbelievably, real, inflation-accounted-for weekly wages for the average American worker are actually lower now than they were 50 years ago. Today, despite an explosion in technology and worker productivity, many young people will have a worse standard of living than their parents. And many of them worry that Artificial Intelligence and robotics will make a bad situation even worse. Today, despite spending far more per capita than other countries, we remain the only wealthy nation not to guarantee health care to all as a human right and we pay, by far, the highest prices in the world for prescription drugs. We, alone among major countries, cannot even guarantee paid family and medical leave. Today, despite strong opposition from a majority of Americans, we continue to spend billions funding the extremist Netanyahu government's all out war against the Palestinian people which has led to the horrific humanitarian disaster of mass malnutrition and the starvation of thousands of children. Will the big money interests and well-paid consultants who control the Democratic Party learn any real lessons from this disastrous campaign? Will they understand the pain and political alienation that tens of millions of Americans are experiencing? Do they have any ideas as to how we can take on the increasingly powerful Oligarchy which has so much economic and political power? Probably not. In the coming weeks and months those of us concerned about grassroots democracy and economic justice need to have some very serious political discussions. Stay tuned.”

/end ID]

[b3ach-bunn7]

JAPANESE DENIM

You’re one of eight princesses invited as a potential bride for Prince Satoru. With no idea what he looks like, you find yourself ranting to the Prince himself how little you want to marry him

Royal!au, fluff, strangers to lovers

—————————————————————————

You wonder how angry your parents would be if you pretend to collapse against the cold tiled floor.

Your dress trails as you walk idly around the ballroom. Your petticoat and crinoline make you feel ten times heavier, your heels pinching your toes as you drag the fabric around. You’d think you’d be used to it by now, the formal dress and the discomfort of it all. But you never have and you never will, which is why you know Prince Satoru will never pick you tonight.

Your parents weren’t even that important. You’re a princess from a kingdom that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, and you know of the eight girls here tonight you’re the least royal. That, and you’re definitely the least princess-like of them all. Unlike the majority of the girls here, you don’t want to get married. You hate the fact that you’re all dressed up to parade yourself in front of a man just so he’ll pick you to bare his children. You hate that you know nothing about him other than his name and his status. You were here because your parents had forced you to be, but you have no intention of running around and playing nice.

It’s why you’re standing to the side, looking at a painting on the wall. It's tall and so intricately detailed you wonder how long it had taken to be made. You’re sure if you look close enough at the woman depicted you could make out the wrinkles in her skin.

“The painter’s name is Choso. He’s good, no?” 

A voice pulls you out of your stupor. You hum softly. “Yes. It’s very beautiful.”

You turn to the voice and you are very glad you did. The man in front of you is incredibly attractive. He’s tall, for one, his hand curled around a glass of wine. His clothes look expensive, a fine tailored navy blue tunic with a white collar curling around his neck. His eyes are unnervingly blue, and you watch them trail up and down you. He looks slightly amused but also just as bored as you do.

“I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You nod your head. You're still unsure who he is, but his garments look far too regal for him not to be important.

He just nods back. “Likewise.” He doesn’t give you his name and you don’t ask for it.

“So. You’re not enjoying the ball tonight?”

You roll your eyes. “No. How long do you think I can wait before it’s socially acceptable for me to leave?”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re already looking to leave? The prince has not even chosen his bride.”

“And if my wishes come true, that bride shall not be me.”

“You’re one of the bachelorettes?” He asks.

You nod, sighing heavily. The man grabs a drink off a nearby waiter and hands it to you. You nod your thanks. There’s a few eyes on the two of you but you pay them no mind. You turn back to the painting and he follows.

“Yes. My parents brought me here to present me to the Prince, but in all honesty I have no intentions to be picked.”

The man tilts his head. The stark white curls on his head curve against his cheek, as the corner of his lips twitch into a smile. “You don’t wish to be his bride?”

You frown. “No. I’ve no knowledge of the man. For all I know he could be a hideous troll.”

The man laughs then, and the sound makes you smile. “An interesting fear to have.” He takes a step closer to you and his height towers over you. “Do you believe all princes to be hideous trolls, then?”

“Only the ones I’ve never met.”

He grins. You lean against the wall and he just watches in faint amusement. “Not very ladylike for a princess.”

“Columbus, if only you felt what it was like in these heels.” You cover your mouth at the curse that slips past your tongue. You shoot him an apologetic look. “God. If my mother heard me speak like that I’d be hung.” 

“Don’t worry, my lady. Your secret’s safe with me.” He places a hand on his heart solemnly and you laugh.

The orchestra's music rings across the hall. The room is bigger than any ballroom you’d been in thus far, but you're not surprised. The Gojo family is the richest one around, and the extravagant decorations are enough to tell you that. You take another sip of wine. It’s expensive and you hum contentedly. You turn to the man next to you and find him already staring at you.

“Do you have any idea what the prince looks like? I suppose I should mingle some. I can feel my mother glaring at me from across the room.”

The man moves an inch closer, voice dropping to a softer tone. “If you’re so frightened he’s some hideous troll I could describe him to you. If it would ease your nerves.” He teases. 

You nod. The distance between you two is smaller than you’d thought and when you turn to face him you’re near enough to almost brush his nose with yours.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He breathes heavily. His eyes dart around the room. “Well. He’s tall. Devilishly handsome. Long hair, good build.”

You look out into the crowd as well. Your eyes land on a man in green silk robes, long black hair curling down his back. “Is that him?”

The man’s eyes follow yours and they darken upon seeing the same man you do. He frowns. “No. That is not Prince Satoru. That is Suguru Geto. He comes from a much lesser family than the prince.”

You know Prince Suguru, of course. Everyone around the country had heard of his fight with Prince Satoru that had nearly caused war between the two families. You peer at the mystery man curiously, at the sour look on his face. You’re interested in what his problem with that Prince is. 

 “Do you know him? Personally, I mean.”

The man’s eyes flicker to yours. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You speak with much contempt.”

He smiles slightly. “You see right through me, my lady. We’ve had a few arguments.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “You have? How did you come across him?”

He just taps the side of his nose, smirking. “You’re a very nosey princess, did you know that?”

“Well, I’m not known for my graciousness.” He laughs.

You look back at Prince Suguru, where’s he’s talking to two young girls. “A shame, though. He’s really quite attractive.”

The man’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I disagree. I- Prince Satoru is much more good-looking.”

“Hopefully I’ll never know.”

He snorts a laugh at the disinterest in your voice. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why come here? Get all dressed up and ready if you have such an aversion to marriage?”

You sigh. Adjust the top of your corset, finish the rest of your glass. He looks at you patiently, and you miss how his eyes dip to your chest for just a second.

“I’m a princess to a king and queen with no heirs except for me. Despite my aversion to it, I’m not stupid enough not to realise the importance of marriage. I need to marry someone who can benefit my family and my kingdom.”

Your eyes land on the other potential brides. They walk with an air of elegance you never seemed to be able to achieve, a beauty that, despite your aloofness, you can’t help but envy. You sigh slightly, hoping the man next to you doesn’t see the sadness on your face.

“And your happiness is not a factor?”

You snort. You can hear your mother in your head telling you how unladylike you are for making such a noise. 

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m not sure where you stand in your kingdoms lineage, but my happiness is never a factor.”

He hums. “I see. Just another pawn for the chessboard of politics and duty.”

You nod. It’s weird how he understands. Most men would scold you for even complaining.

“It’s quite alright. I know a man like Prince Satoru won’t want someone like me, anyway. So I don’t bother.”

“And why wouldn’t he want you?” The man taps his fingers against his now empty glass. You turn to him once more. He looks confused now.

“Look at me. I’m nothing like those other girls. I speak impolitely and I lean against walls and talk to strange men instead of him. I’m not as beautiful as they are. But what can I do?” You shrug.

“You’re wrong. I think you are very beautiful.”

His words draw you to turn to him once more. He looks at you so earnestly that you couldn’t not believe him if you tried. You bow your head in thanks.

“Thank you, sir. As flattered as I am, I doubt the Prince will agree with you.” You shake your head.

The man shrugs. He grabs the glass out of your hand, and for a moment your fingers brush against each other. They’re smooth, unmarred by work, another sign of his nobility. He places the glasses on a waiting tray.

“You never know. Keep your hopes up, my lady.” 

You go to respond but suddenly, a voice calls form the front of the hall. It’s time. You shut your eyes, cursing to yourself. You hadn’t even had the chance to speak to the Prince all night. You can already imagine the scolding you’d receive once you got home. You look back at the man and he’s already turning to leave. You reach out and grab his arm. The fabric of his clothes feel expensive beneath your grasp.

“Wait. I never got your name.”

He just taps the side of his nose again. You roll your eyes. “You’re so cryptic, did you know that?”

He barks a laugh. He bows, deep and low. You watch his white locks flutter in front of you, so soft you almost reach for them. 

“Good luck, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

And you’re being dragged away by a waiting lady before you can see where he goes off to. You don’t have too long to wonder if you’ll ever see him again, because you’re suddenly placed between the other girls, all lined up in the front of the room. You try to smile at the girl beside you but she only scoffs, turning her nose up as she looks away. You roll your eyes. Some people.

You glance and see the Prince's two knights, two pink and black haired boys, standing at the side. They look awfully young to be fighting, you wonder, but the glare on the black haired one’s face makes you feel like they might never need to. 

The King and Queen look at the row of you with interest. All big, long robes of expensive cotton and silk trailing down the golden thrones they sit on. It’s only then, when you’re studying the intricate finery of their crowns, you notice the Queen's hair. A white, so stark and vibrant you don’t think you’ve ever seen it anywhere else. But then you realise you have. On a mysterious man insistent to make conversation with you. And it’s then, when you turn your attention to the King, you see his eyes bluer than the ocean and the sky combined, and your heart drops.

Because just as the dots connect in your head, your mystery man comes to stand at the front of the hall. Eyes trailing lazily over the women next to you before they land on you. And then he grins, winking at you quickly. 

The girl besides you gasps. “Gods, he just winked at me.” She speaks in a hushed tone to the girl next to her.

You're too distracted to try to correct her. You’re so stupid. How could you not know? Of course, it was your first time in the kingdom, but. How had you no idea that he was the prince? The man you’d practically embarrassed and debased yourself in front of, cursing and calling him a hideous troll to his face. You feel your cheeks flush as his gaze doesn’t waver from yours, an unreadable expression on his face.

The signs were all there. The way he carried himself. Something about him just screamed expensive and important, if not for his important robes or the way people had been glancing at the two of you all night. His hatred for Prince Suguru. You’re a fool.

You’re so stupid. He’d have you hung, surely. Hung or exiled from the country as a whole. 

Your hands tighten where they are clasped in front of you. You watch as the king stands, steps forwards until he is side by side with his son. He claps a hand on his back and the Prince straightens slightly. 

“It is now time for my son, the oldest and only Gojo heir, to choose a candidate to be his future queen and mother of his heirs.”

You’re sure the king says more but your brain is too preoccupied. You wonder what your mother will say. You wonder how horribly your reputation will be after this. If any man will ever want to marry you. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that it takes you a minute to hear Prince Satoru say your name.

“Princess Y/N. I choose her.” 

You can’t move. Chatter erupts amongst the people and the women next to you sound just as shocked as you feel. Satoru just looks at you expectantly. You feel your mothers hand curl around yours. You let her drag you forward, smiling and nodding at those who bow around you. She whispers congratulations as she and your father come up to greet the king and queen, and you’re placed in front of Satoru.

You bow your head immediately.

“Please, forgive me for my actions before, I- I had no idea you were the prince, I had no right o say what I did.” You say quickly.

A hand curls under your chin, lifting your head up to look him in his eyes. There’s a small, pleased smile on his lips. 

“None of that, now. Where’s all that sass I saw from you earlier?” He grins.

You scoff. “I’m not stupid, your majesty. I would never call you such names to your face.” 

“So you would behind my back?”

Your cheeks flush and you shake your head quickly. “Well, no I-“

“Please, Y/N, calm down. It is quite alright. I liked your sass. Your vim. So refreshing after my conversation with those ladies behind you.” 

You sigh. His hand leaves your chin and they both travel down to grab your hands.

“But. Why me?”

“Why not you?”

You roll your eyes, then look towards the other girls, who are glaring daggers at you from below.

“They’re better princesses than I. All prim and proper. Polite. I doubt any of them would call you a hideous troll. They’re perfect.”

Satoru can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your response.

“Ah yes. Princesses are supposed to be perfect.  All manners and decorum, never showing any sort of flaw or imperfection."

He turns back to you, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze.

"Which is exactly why I picked you."

You tilt your head slightly. “You’d settle for imperfection? For me?”

Satoru shakes his head slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

"No. I don’t want to settle for imperfection. I just don’t want perfection. I don’t want a prim, proper princess who’s only talent is looking good."

He steps closer to you, his eyes searching yours intently. And now, with him as close as he is, you can see a dusting of freckles across his face, eyes tinged with a hint of green you’d not noticed before. He’s so beautiful and you can’t believe he’s yours.

"I want someone real. Someone who will challenge me, make me think, keep me on my toes. You are not a prim, proper princess. And I like that."

He smiles cheekily. “And I meant what I said earlier. You are beautiful.”

Your breath comes shakily at the close proximity. He smells like something rich, expensive and his thumb rubs circles on your hand.

“I’m glad. And I will try to be a good wife for you, your majesty.”

Satoru gazes down at you, an inscrutable look in his eyes. You look so suddenly vulnerable, and a small part of him feels bad for putting a hint of uncertainty in you. For putting you on the spot like this. His hand comes back up to graze your jawline.

"You don’t have to try to do anything. Just be you." He smiles. "That’s why I chose you."

Satoru lets his hand drop, but not before his thumb gently brushes across the edge of your jawline, lingering for a moment. You watch his eyes dart to your parents conversing behind you. His gaze flicks back to you, a small smirk on his lips.

“At least your parents will be off your back now.”

You grin. “I’d hope so, having married into the Gojo family.”

Satoru lets out a soft huff of amusement. "Yes, I imagine they're quite pleased."

He glances at your parents across the room, who are clearly quite satisfied with themselves. He turns his gaze back to you, his smirk growing slightly.

"I’m sure they’ll be even more pleased when they get to have grandbabies."

Your cheeks redden. If not just for his words but for the hungry way he looks at you.

“I hardly think that’s a conversation to have right now, your majesty.”

“Enough with the formalities. Call me Satoru, you are my wife now.” He takes a small step closer to you, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"And why not?" he teases, his voice low. "Isn’t a prince allowed to be excited about his future heirs?"

“Well of course. It’s just. I hardly think this is appropriate to discuss in front of all these people.”

You hope nobody can see the flush on your cheeks from the hall. Satoru lets out a soft hum, noticing how your eyes dart away from his.

"We are soon to be newlyweds, sweetheart," he replies, a hint of husk in his tone. "Discussing heirs is hardly inappropriate."

He grins slightly as he steps even closer, his body almost a breath away from touching yours.

"Afraid to discuss the… practicalities in front of everyone? Hm?"

“I- Yes. Slightly.” You laugh nervously.

And Satoru’s grin grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. He reaches out, his hand gently grasping your chin once again, tipping your face back up to look at him. His thumb grazes ever so gently over your bottom lip, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"No need to be nervous." His voice is low, almost a murmur. "After all, we will be getting rather intimate very soon."

With all the luck in the world, your mother steps forward, bowing to Satoru before gesturing you away. The weddings to be set in three days, three days until you become a Gojo and the next queen in line for the throne. You watch with keen eyes as Satoru greets your mother like he’s know her his whole life. Has some weird manly conversation with your father, before he returns back to you.

“Three days. I trust you’ll be able to keep yourself out of trouble until then?” He raises a brow.

You bite back a smile. “Yes, Satoru. I’ll see you then.”

He nods. “Until the wedding, then. Safe travels, Y/N”

—————————————————————————

I had this idea while watching Harry Potter movie? I have no idea why. Also reader why r u lowkey like.. not like other girls omg 🙈

also I’ve lowkey been so obsessed with Harry Potter recently??? So either except some Harry Potter fics or some JJK/MHA X HP fics 😝 feeling bold

I hope u enjoyed!!

[keeryhours]

late night with the devil - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Hawkins may think your boyfriend and his friends are devil worshippers, but he’s still just your Eddie.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, weed use

Word Count: 3,653

A/N:

So so so excited to post my first Eddie fic! I hope you enjoy!

—

The people of Hawkins were convinced there were devil worshippers among you. Satanic Panic was in full swing, and the targets were right on your friends’ backs.

They had always been seen as Freaks, but the group of metalheads and their love for D&D were under real public scrutiny now. You knew your friends were good people, but now you were being warned to stay away from them by teachers, your parents forbidding you from ever seeing them again.

That’s how you found yourself crawling out of your bedroom window at 11:30pm, your parents long asleep. The wood of the window sill scratched against your arms painfully as you lowered yourself to the ground. You hissed when you landed on your feet, checking for any splinters. You brushed the dirt off your jeans.

Dry fallen leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through your yard. Reaching the front of the house, you grabbed your bike from against the garage. You hadn’t rode it much in the past couple years. Typically Eddie would pick you up in his van, or there was usually at least one person with a car in whatever friend group you hung out with. Obviously that wasn’t happening tonight.

You pedaled to Forest Hills, your anger at your parents only growing as you went. Anger at them for falling for this sensationalist crap, anger at them for turning on Eddie and your other friends when they knew they weren’t bad people. They may never have been Eddie’s biggest fans - they didn’t love that he was on his third senior year and had heard rumors about the small business he ran - but they didn’t have a real problem with him. But now they have let the news and gossip convince them that your boyfriend and your friends were evil.

You were still angry when you rolled past the park’s sign, but it faded as you made the remaining short distance to Eddie’s trailer. You spotted your boyfriend’s lanky legs in his ripped jeans immediately, sitting on the front steps. You climbed off your bike and leaned it against the side of the trailer as Eddie stood, a cigarette in his hand. You walked over to him, rushing into his arms when holds them open for you. You wrap your arms around his waist and he wraps his around your body, holding you close.

“I’m glad you got here okay,” Eddie said, and you could feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “I hate that I can’t just come get you.”

“I know. Me too.” You looked up at him and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled at him.

“Let me finish this and we can go inside.”

You and Eddie sat next to each other on the steps. He talked to you about his plans for his next D&D campaign as he smoked, you hanging on to every word. Eddie was so creative, and his campaigns were always so detailed. It felt like being told the world’s most interesting story.

When he finished his cigarette, Eddie tossed it aside and stood to his full height, holding out his hand for you. You took it with a smile and he pulled you to your feet with enough effort that you stumbled into his chest once you were up. Eddie laughed, putting his hands on your hips to steady you.

He ushered you into the trailer ahead of him. You had spent a lot of nights here since you and Eddie started hanging out, you always had it to yourselves since his uncle Wayne worked nights. It felt like having your own place together, sometimes.

You made yourself comfortable as usual, pulling a soda from the fridge. You giggled as you felt Eddie’s arms snaking around your waist from behind, curls tickling your face as he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses.

You hummed with a smile on your face as you popped open the can of soda and Eddie rocked you back and forth in his arms. “I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled against your skin. His leather jacket was cool against your arms.

Things had been difficult for Eddie since all this shit had started. He and his friends had always been outcasts, but now it was worse. Now you worried for their actual safety, constantly scared some hick will decide to take the “satan worshippers” into their own hands and do something crazy.

You spun around in his arms, your left arm draping over his shoulder while your right still held onto the cold can. Eddie smiled down at you with that grin that always gave you butterflies. His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips as they rested there.

“Do you want to smoke?” he asked, which brought a grin to your face.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, smiling up at your boyfriend’s tall frame.

He pulled away from you reluctantly with a last minute squeeze of your hip before he was bowing dramatically and rushing off back to his bedroom. You laughed as you drank your soda. You flopped down on the couch, kicking your feet up on the table, nearly knocking over an overly filled ashtray in the process.

Eddie was back shortly after, perfectly rolled joint in his hand as he collapsed on the couch next to you. You sat the can on the table as Eddie handed you the joint and a lighter with a flourish. “Ladies first.”

You plucked it from his hand with a smile, placing it between your lips and lighting it with Eddie’s lighter. Relaxation seems to wash over you immediately as you take a deep drag, holding the smoke in your lungs. You leaned back against the cushions as you let it out. Eddie’s hand absentmindedly played with your thigh as he watched you with interest.

“You’re so hot when you smoke,” he mumbled, and it made you giggle as you took your second hit.

“You are, too,” you said through the smoke and passed the joint to him. He laughed as he took it.

He put on a show for you as he took his turn, holding your eye contact as he inhaled and held the smoke. Then he was leaning forward, free hand cupping the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours and breathed the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled it, the smoke from Eddie’s own hit leaving your mouth as you exhaled. Eddie bit his lip as he watched you, a smirk on his pretty face, before he was hitting it again.

The two of you passed the joint back and forth until the roach was so small it was basically unsmokable. You were feeling infinitely more relaxed, sinking into the couch. Eddie always got extra talkative when he was high and this was no exception.

“So I told him,” Eddie said, head tilted back against the couch as he stared at the ceiling and talked with his hands. “I told him no, we could not reschedule the campaign. It’s the end of the campaign.” Eddie scoffed and looked at you like can you believe that?

You nodded at him, but you were having a hard time focusing on his words. Your brain was working so slow and he talked so fast. You felt some of the fogginess in your brain clear away at the feeling of his large hand on your thigh again. He rubbed it this time, trailing his hand higher and higher. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

He met your gaze with a smirk. He leaned in, his leather jacket audibly crinkling as he moved. You were relieved to feel his lips on yours again, the familiar feeling of his mouth working against yours, his tongue slipping between your lips. You hummed into the kiss, your hand resting on his chest.

“Wanna go to my room?” he asked you, low voice rumbling in his chest.

You nodded and Eddie wasted no time standing from the couch, reaching a hand out for you like a gentleman. You took his hand and he lifted you. He followed you to the back of the trailer where his bedroom was, slapping your ass as you walked. You laughed, turning around to give him a playful glare.

He closed the door to his bedroom behind you. You watched as he went straight for the stereo, putting on some Metallica. He turned around and gave you a mischievous look before he basically tackled you onto the bed, causing you to fall back onto the mattress, laughing hard. He lifted himself above you and you scooted back to lay against the pillows. Your body buzzed with anticipation.

Eddie shrugged his leather jacket off, dropping it to the floor. His ringed hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your calves to your thighs. You could tell he wanted it bad tonight by the dark look in his eyes, the way he stared at your body like he wanted to devour it.

He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that, too, his guitar pick necklace falling to rest against his bare chest. You rubbed your hands over the now exposed skin, feeling his firm chest, his sides, his soft belly. He sighed at the feeling.

“You’re so beautiful…” Eddie mumbled, hands still rubbing your thighs. His hands creeped forward until they reached the buttons of your jeans. You watched him intently as his long, dexterous fingers undid them with ease, pulling the material down your legs.

His hands slid up your shirt next, feeling how smooth your skin was always did something to him. He lifted your shirt as his hands traveled up until his fingers were grazing your bra. You sat up for him for a second so he could pull your shirt off.

Eddie took in the sight of you laying beneath him in only your underwear with hungry eyes. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you like this before, but it never got old. He never got used to it. His rings were cold against your skin as he felt all over your body, exploring at his own pace. You didn’t mind. It felt nice everywhere he touched you. You could see the bulge straining in his ripped jeans.

“Eddie…” you whined, causing him to break out of his trance and look up at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked as he kept rubbing his hands up and down your sides. It gave you goosebumps.

“Really want you…” you whined again, lips pouting. Eddie chuckled lowly at that, his fingers gripping your sides a little harder.

“Yeah? You want me?” he asked, looking at you with those dark eyes, laced with desire. Pupils blown wide in lust. Oh, Eddie wanted it bad. “Are you wet for me, baby?” His fingers traced your core over your underwear, finding the answer for himself. He smirked. “All for me?” he asked, eyes shooting up to meet yours.

“Yeah, all for you, Eddie,” you breathed, his light touch where you wanted him so badly driving you crazy. He pressed a little harder, right over your clit, and you cried out with a little “Ah!”

Eddie laughed that sinister sounding laugh once again, then his hands were sliding up your body and around your back, unhooking your bra and tossing it. His hands immediately found your tits, groping them like he was seeing them for the first time as he grinded his clothed hips against your wet panties. You could feel how hard he was even through the multiple layers.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned, his voice so low you barely heard it. His thumb rubbed over your nipples before he started to roll and pinch them between his fingers. He leaned over, wrapping his mouth around one of them. He was moaning the second he got his lips on you, sucking your nipple into his mouth and running his tongue around it in circles. You arched up into him, only pushing your chest further into his face, which he appreciated.

He switched to your other breast to give that nipple equal attention. You moaned, pushing your hips up to press against him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. Eddie had you so turned on, you didn’t feel like you could wait another second.

When he pulled off of your nipple, he buried his face in your tits, using his hands to push them closer together around his face.

“I could live in here,” he said, voice muffled between them. You laughed hard, running your hands through his hair, giving him full body chills.

He pulled back to place hungry kisses over your chest and neck, biting and sucking against the sensitive pulse point, getting the reaction from you he wanted. You dug your nails into his back harder and he hissed.

“Need you now, Eds,” you begged, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. You needed him to fill you the way only he could.

He pulls back to look at you with those glazed over eyes. “You want my cock?” he asked, looking fully lost in the moment already.

“Yes,” you cried, rolling your hips up beneath him and trying to get him where you want him. Eddie took the hint and got on his knees between your legs. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and pulled them off slowly, savoring it.

He spread your legs wide, big brown eyes taking in the sight of your bare cunt laid out before him, all for him. “Oh, baby,” he groaned, reaching forward to trace a long finger through your folds. He held it up to show you just how wet you were before he popped it in his mouth, sucking it clean.

Eddie reached for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the belt loops before tossing it to the floor with a clang. He quickly undid his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down his legs, kicking them off. You moaned when his hard length was finally revealed, and he gave you a cocky smirk.

He leaned over your body again, kissing up your chest and neck to place a peck on your lips before he reached for the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a condom from the box. He sat back up on his knees and ripped the package open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his dick.

He stroked himself quickly a couple times then leaned over you, resting his weight on one forearm as his other hand lined the thick tip of his cock up right against your entrance. Your heart thudded hard in your chest at the feeling, you just wanted him inside you now.

Eddie began to push into you, eyes watching your face as every inch sinks into your warm, wet pussy, wrapping around him perfectly. He felt like he was in heaven, and he couldn’t hold back the groan that spilled from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt. Your hands dug into his skin even harder, holding onto him like you’d disappear if you let go.

He peppered kisses all over your face and neck as he let you get adjusted. He pulled his hips back slowly, then snapped them back into you, drawing a strangled cry from your lips.

“Eddie!” you cried, already feeling so much when he’d only just started. You felt your core tighten around him, holding him even tighter, and he hissed as he set a steady rhythm with his hips.

“God, I’ve barely even fucked you yet…” he mumbled, drinking in your already fucked-out expression and mouth hanging open. He couldn’t deny what the sight of you like this did to him, his cock growing impossibly harder inside of you, his balls tightening, and suddenly he worried he’d cum way too fast like he did your first time together. You hadn’t minded, but he had been humiliated, and he didn’t want a repeat.

Eddie rolled his hips against you at the perfect pace. You tangled your hands in his wild hair and pulled him down to kiss you again, which he did eagerly, tongue in your mouth immediately as he tangled with yours and kissed you hungrily.

He groaned into your mouth as he sped up his pace, thoroughly pounding into you now. The sounds of the two of you - skin slapping together, bed creaking, your moans and grunts and whines and whimpers - filled the room, nearly as loud as the heavy music playing over his speakers. It drove Eddie even more wild.

He sat back up on his knees, grabbing onto your hips with a bruising grip and lifting them higher as he began fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts. You nearly screamed, the intense way his cockhead was ruthlessly pressing against your bundle of nerves with every thrust making you see stars in your vision.

“Fuck, you like that?” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth, his curls bouncing with every wild thrust into you.

“Feels so good,” you managed to say between moans, hands tangling in the sheets since you can’t comfortably grab onto some part of his body right now, even though that’s what you want.

And it did feel incredible. Your mind was fuzzy and you weren’t sure anymore if it was from the weed or Eddie’s dick. You felt your release building inside you already.

“Fuck yeah it does,” Eddie spits out, and he looks like he’s lost in his own pleasure as his eyes fall closed and his mouth parts, grunts falling from his pretty lips with every brutal thrust. His head falls back and he uses his hands to help pull you against him to meet the thrusts of his own hips, making it even more intense, which you didn’t think was possible.

He looked back down at your body, one hand leaving your hip to rub circles on your clit with his thumb. The sudden sensation made you cry out with a high pitched “Oh!”, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie pushed you to the brink with calculated precision. He hadn’t been experienced when you had gotten together, but damn if he wasn’t a ridiculously quick learner.

He could feel you tightening around him, pussy gripping him so good he felt like he might fall apart right then and there. He cursed under his breath, hips moving a little faster as he pushed you to your release. “Yeah, cum on my cock baby, please, need to feel you making a mess all over me.” Eddie was practically begging as he spoke, desperate to make you cum so he could stop holding back.

“I…gonna cum, Eddie, oh shit-“

A proud smile spread across Eddie’s lips as you came undone for him, watching your pretty face twist in ecstasy as you moaned like his little slut, crying out his name over and over. It was music to his ears, and you were a sight for sore eyes as you utterly fell apart. More than anything, the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around him from your orgasm pushed him over the edge and into his own.

Eddie laid his body over yours the second your high subsided. He grabbed your hands and lifted them over your head, intertwining your fingers with his, and he kissed you hard as it finally hit him. Hard.

Eddie whimpered against your lips before letting out a long, low groan, muscles clenching and body trembling as he finished inside you, spilling into the condom. He kept pumping in shallow thrusts until he had spilled every last drop, his body completely spent as he came harder than he ever does on his own.

He didn’t move as you both caught your breath. Eddie’s body felt weak, like he had used every bit of energy he had. Finally he works up the effort to roll off of you, pecking your lips before he does. You hear him as he pulls the condom off, tying it up and throwing it in the trash can before he’s sliding up against you and wrapping his arm around your waist, your naked bodies pressed together.

You turned on your side and he spooned against you, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece. His hair tickled your shoulders as he placed kisses to the backs of them before laying his head down against you.

“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. You could tell he wouldn’t stay awake much longer. He had been thoroughly worn out.

“I love you too,” you said back, fingers gently rubbing his hand that was pressed right above your navel.

He hummed contentedly, and you pulled the blankets over the both of you. You had no desire to get out of his bed, to leave his warm embrace. Wayne never cared if you stayed over, and you figured you could sneak back into your own room before your parents noticed in the morning.

You really weren’t concerned with the logistics right now. This was the only place you wanted to be, and you didn’t care about anything else.

You felt your eyes beginning to grow heavy. Your eyes roamed over the familiar bedroom, messy as usual. You looked at his guitar hanging on the wall, the only other lady you’d ever have to share his heart with. Your gaze wandered to the bedside table, a polaroid of the two of you together on display for him to look at every night before he goes to sleep and every morning when he wakes up.

Eddie made you feel so loved and cared for. You hoped you made him feel the same.

You snuggled deeper into the warmth of his arms. You loved your boyfriend. Whether everyone in town thought he was the devil or not.

[mkfshard]

This is such an infuriating problem. Another 30 year old man here, I grew up in nearly the exact same scenario as these people, preloaded with shitty beliefs. I endured the endless tumblr posts that said without nuance 'ew guys' and ragged on white people for their unaddressed racial bias, and it was painful but I endured and listened and heard the message I was supposed to hear because I wanted to be better! And I think I am, compared to the conservative-parent-puppet shitshow I was before! What are you supposed to do with people who don't have that desire? Who run home and cry into the arms of fascists when they're confronted with the barest natural pains of unlearning bigotry? Why must we have empathy for people who refuse to hone their own? When do we demand that they take responsibility for the things they say and do? They have flaws that form barriers between themselves and others; but confronting them on these flaws only makes the barriers thicker. Despite everything I have to believe that redemption is possible for them, because it was for me. But I have no idea what it looks like. Maybe someone who looks and acts 'manly' going on TikTok and making videos with conservative clickbait titles and offering gentle, baby-steps life advice and parasocial companionship for the shittiest people on Earth, but anyone who tries is going to be in the direct line of fire.

In an abstract sense, I do care about them, I do want them to exist. I want everyone in the world to have a happy, fulfilled life, to never be hurt or hurt others, and to never face injustice.

But what love can be offered white guys that we don't already have in spades? We're surrounded by mirrors in every story. We are the Default of bigotry, absolutely untouched by nearly every unfair societal ill the world has to offer, save the expectations of masculinity, a problem solved by embracing feminism. The exact thing these idiots sneer at.

It's been a very, very long time since I've seen a hyperbole-strewn post hating on white guys in aggregate, and I've more often seen pushback on that very idea. The feminists they're getting angry at are an overgeneralized, sans-nuance caricature from a decade ago, and I doubt they've read a single thing from one since.

I'm all ears for ideas, but a spiteful part of me just wants to encourage people to flatly put out a total social embargo on conservatives-- banning them from any communities you have authority over, demanding their bans elsewhere, and leaving any community that doesn't institute a ban. Give them no choice but to hide their ugly soul and listen, or else be left with nowhere and no one. ...Realistically, this would obviously just drive them to conservative communities all the harder, and clearly being stuck in smelly clubhouses with racist manbabies isn't miserable enough for them to rethink their ways and seek other outlets, or else we wouldn't have this problem to begin with. At the very least, I'm not having any in my communities.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[thewitchblue]

You were a ray of sunshine in the Batfamily's life. You loved the children and Bruce with your entire heart, and everyone took notice. You loved each of the family members differently but equally intensely. No kid ever felt unloved by you.

You softly hum as you trace Damian's face. He always struggled to sleep. He struggled to relax enough even with sleep medication aiding him most nights. Until you start humming softly and draw patterns on his face lightly. His entire body physically relaxes as his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out after a minute. His face subconsciously leans into your soothing touch.

With a tender smile on your face and a gentle forehead kiss, you moved onto the next Batboy who struggles with sleep: Dick. You knock your secret knock with a smile on your face. You had a soft spot for Dick the second the kid lost his parents. How could you possibly not when his small body shook so badly in your arms? He had the same tormented look Bruce used to have before your loving family formed.

You hear a soft but excited "come in" from Dick, who seemed to have still been getting ready for bed. He loved it when you told him stories above all else. You told him thousands of your stories, but he was always excited to listen to you talk about the moment you adopted him. You'd tell him about how much you loved him as you reminisced on the first time he called you mom. How your heart had never been so full of love and adoration for your kid. He wasn't an easy kid, but you loved him deeply, and you reminded him constantly.

Dick gives you a warm smile as you set down his nighttime tea: always chamomile with lemon and sugar cubes on the side. It had to be sugar cubes, as the packets tasted weird to him.

"What story do you want tonight, sweetheart?"

He surprised you, honestly, when he asked to hear about how you met Bruce. You chuckle softly.

"It was a rainy Thursday night. We both became vigilantes the same day and met during our nightly adventures. We looked at each other for a long time before we heard police sirens and ran towards it. I must have saved his life hundreds of times that night. We have been close together ever since."

Dick cuddles into his bed and looks at you with wide eyes. He was always excited to hear this story. With a look of adoration, he murmurs,

"And you give us a hard time about our recklessness."

You roll your eyes but can't fight the fond smile off your face. You gently play with Dick's hair, continuing your tale,

"I'm not the one charging into burning buildings nightly without superpowers, darling.

Dick and Bruce adored your moral compass more than anything. You always did what was right no matter how hard it was to do. You saved thousands of lives throughout the time you were a vigilante with Bruce. He called you rash every night because of the way you handled being a superhero, but you see the endangered people and never hesitate. You are immune to damage of all types, so it was easy to run into the thick of danger to save everybody from a burning building or from the Joker's psychopathic game. Joker was angry when he found out you couldn't get hurt. You don't even feel pain because of your powers. You weren't a fun target to him, so he gave up.

"I wish I could've met younger you. I love seeing my mom being a casual badass."

You laugh softly, giving him a cheek kiss as a goodnight. Batboy number 3 was Jason. Jason took after your personality more than the rest and defends you even when it's just reporters talking bad about you. You taught him how to love and accept being loved, despite everything. You taught him to look for the best in everyone because their stories often run deeper than the surface.

You can hear his excited steps as he lets you in. He held up the newest book he wanted to share with you. You read to him every night, as he finds your voice soothes him.

He drags you to his bedside and climbs into his bed. You kissed his forehead before starting to read the book. He knows he could listen to Audiobooks, but he found it was you that soothed him. He found the narrators of Audiobooks often annoying or dramatic, but you read the exact way he wants you to and at the perfect speed.

He was soon drifting off as well, your hand holding his and squeezing morse code messages into his hand. You kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving on.

By the time you were done with all the children, Bruce was back. You grabbed the first aid kid you keep in your shared room. Bruce must've had an easier night because his injuries weren't nearly as life-threatening as usual.

He hissed through his teeth as you cleaned his wounds, but you murmured reassuring words and held his hand with your free hand.

"Just a few more, baby. You're doing so good, my hero."

He squeezed your hand when you were done. His exhausted smile was still so full of love for you.

"We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

He kissed your cheek gently. He loved you deeply, even when it was hard for him to express it. Love truthfully scared him ever since his parents' deaths, but you were the ray of sunshine in his darkest of nights.

"I'm lucky to have my little army of heroes. I love you and the kids."

He gave a tired hum of acknowledgement.

"We all love you too."

Alfred, appearing as silently as ever at the doorway of the bedroom, said,

"Master Wayne, if you don't marry her, I will."

You laugh at Bruce's shocked expression. He whipped around to face Alfred, who was staring at him with a look that was so serious you couldn't help but smirk at. While you'd love to marry Bruce, you knew it wasn't that simple for him. He struggles with the idea of having a loving wife waiting for him. He doesn't feel like he deserves it at the moment, and you respect that. You will continue to be the mother of his children and the warm presence in his life. You voice your thoughts,

"Alfred, I don't need to marry Bruce to be part of the family."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce, but Bruce was in another place.

"That much is clear, but I still want you officially part of the family. You're the glue holding everyone together."

You smile at the duo. Family is so much deeper than blood, and you continue to prove it to the Bat family every day. You ruffle Bruce's hair gently.

"I'd never say no to my boys."

Bruce took Alfred's advice on your anniversary. He proposed in front of the entire family, which inevitably ended in a dog pile of hugs from all your boys and a sweet kiss from Bruce.

Bruce, your private and loving fiancée, confirmed the engagement to the world the next day, holding up your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. He held your engagement hand everywhere he went, the rest of the Bat family fighting to hold your other hand, eventually scheduling who holds your other hand in an endless cycle.

[sebssunshine]

in 2016 i was 11 i was in 4th grade and so excited about the election. my parents let me stay up to watch part of it and i went to bed fully thinking i would wake up the next day to the first female president of the US. instead i woke up to my mom sobbing and telling me who won. i went to school that next day and was so so angry, i was an 11 year old lesbian who’s country had just elected a man who believed i shouldn’t have rights.

i’m 19 now a freshman in college and experiencing the same thing again. i’m angry but im also tired. i have spent the last 8 years of my life going to protests and listening to the news and reading about political history and caring so much about my family my friends and people who i’ve never met before all before i could even vote.

i remember how freeing it felt when biden won in 2020 i remember going to the parade in Philadelphia the day pennsylvania was declared for biden. it was a moment to take a breath after years of being put down and by god i was hoping for one again. all i wanted was a second to breath, to be hopeful that my country that against my better judgment i love could reject a man with 34 felony charges and 2 impeachments.

take today to cry, scream, throw things whatever you need and then get back to work. we may not have won but the fight isn’t over.

[sirfrogsworth]

Now what?

Whenever I see Trump my brain thinks of my mom and I feel angry about how she died. I have PTSD and I'm actually in the process of seeking out a therapist to address it.

And until I can get some help, I guess I'm just going to feel that anger for a while. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see or think of him again.

This is pretty bad. And it is really scary. And I hate that one man is capable of causing so much fear and anxiety among the people I care about.

I guess there is one thought I am trying to hold onto.

I recently talked about chronic illness and the "new normal." As illness progresses you sometimes have to accept a new normal and learn to adjust and adapt to it. And every time I was faced with a new normal I was convinced I could not adjust or adapt. But every time I figured it out and found a way to keep going.

I think we will adapt because we have to. We will fight because we have to. But we will need each other to get through this.

Look to your allies. Your friends and your trusted family. Keep those relationships healthy. Do the work to maintain them. Prioritize building and sustaining a personal support system over everything else. Do your part when they need help. Keep in regular contact. Keep the emotional labor as reciprocal and balanced as possible. And don't be afraid to tell them when you feel overburdened. Keep communication healthy so you both feel comfortable expressing hard truths. Open up to them so they feel trusted and make sure they feel comfortable doing the same with you. Try not to lean on one single person too much as they might get overwhelmed.

But also remember to enjoy your friendships. They are not there just to be your therapist. (An *actual* therapist is a good idea if it is feasible.) It's important to laugh and waste time together. Shoot the shit and bond over mutual interests. Or introduce them to your interests and teach them why you love what you love. Ask them about their interests and even if you don't completely get it, be happy that something makes your friend happy.

If you feel like you don't have a support system or it is severely diminished like mine, you'll have to do the work to seek out new people. I'm in that process now after losing my parents. And trust me, I know it isn't easy. I am really struggling to connect to new people. It takes a lot of energy and I haven't had a lot of energy to spare. But I know it is what I will need to help me adapt to the new normal. So I'm going to put in the effort and figure it out. I encourage you to do the same.

You will not connect with every new person. That's okay. Remember this is a process and it takes time. And don't beat yourself up if building your support system is slow going. If nothing else, you are learning and growing and developing tools to help you on this journey.

This community has been so kind to me. You all are a part of my support system. And I feel very lucky to have you in my corner. I love you and I care for you. I'm going to try my best to advocate for what you need. Helping others is another way to keep moving forward. A righteous sense of purpose is a powerful tool in the face of a new normal.

Please take care of yourselves as best you can.

Find your people if you haven't already.

Or find *more* people if you don't have enough.

You are in my thoughts.

[thelindenpapers]

"who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?"

It's often something you learn when you're in an abusive or oppressive situation.

Especially long-term.

And especially if those long-term situations occur multiple times throughout life.

I grew up in an extremely racist/misogynist community.

They learned that they couldn't bully or intimidate me ...but they would pick on anyone who tried to defend me.

And that later expanded into them shunning or bullying anyone who I let on that I liked, or even worse, was crushing on.

I grew up with an abusive, fascist father.

He killed our dog. Why? Because it kept angrily and loudly barking every time he was trying to hurt Mom and me.

More than that: in my childhood community, anyone I tried to talk to would either ignore me like I was a ghost, or, shout slurs and death threats in my face. I'm talking early on in life: Before kindergarten, Kindergarten to at LEAST thru 3rd grade.

So:

You learn that anyone you like gets punished for the grevious faux pas of being liked by you.

You learn that anyone who tries to help you, gets hurt or even killed.

You learn that almost nobody comes to help when you cry for help.

You learn that even trying to talk or say 'Hi' to people, results in them suddenly appearing harmed or troubled or annoyed or angry, somehow.

...And why wouldn't I be silent?

As a feral kid, no one was going to listen to me anyway, no one was going to care how I felt about anything or about how anything was affecting me.

And if I did tell?

People frequently took the abuser's side.

Just as the cops did, the very first time I was finally old enough to threaten dad right back!

Don't even get me started on my marriage.

How long are you supposed to keep on telling a person, 'Hey, these are my needs, and I need your help to get something done about it please.

Hey, I should probably see a doctor, why aren't you letting me have access?

Hey, we really need to talk about our relationship. I don't know why you don't want to spend bonding time together.

Why are you making it so difficult for me to try to get a job or an education?

Why are you sabotaging my writing efforts?

Why do you get so upset at my physical activities?

What is with the panic when you see I'm trying to advance my tech skills?

Why does it anger you so much when I try to be proactive and vigilant in making us a comfortable and clean and helpful home?'.....

He actually complained to me:

"Why can't you just LIE?"

About being happy.

About being well.

So yeah.

Why would I want to ask his (or his parents) help in anything. I can't trust them at all.

Why would I allow someone to help if it might get them hurt or killed in the attempt?

Why would I bother to let anyone know? When, after SO many years of being stuck in a deep pit of a life, to help me would probably cause WAY more stress and take WAY more effort and resources, than any one person could possibly offer or endure?

Why would I do that?

When someone might decide to try and help, start the process -- decide partway through that it's all too much, and abandon the process: leaving me in a position that is less safe than where I started?

( Hell, sometimes that is an on-purpose thing. When a person feels bad, and knows they can't or don't want to help, but they'll make a gesture to make themselves feel good, not caring whether what they try to do is actually helpful or effective. )

And why would I tell people exactly what I'm going through, when so many around me would instead:

Victim-blame me.

Call me a liar.

Assume I was crazy.

Nod sympathetically and then use it as a way for them to feel much better about how they're doing in their own lives.

Say it's too much, say it's not so bad, or say others have it way worse.

Enjoy my explanation and my existence as a form of entertainment like I'm their personal IRL soap opera.

Or, use the information that I've given them about me as a way to hurt me further -- since they now seem to think that I'm some easy target, or that, in some twisted sense, abusing me further is somehow less morally bad, and more acceptable: because I've been abused before.....

So in their eyes, I'm 'Already soiled'?

'Already hopeless'?

'Already nothing'?

It's nothing to do with moral superiority.

It's survival.

...And I'm not saying it's right.

In an ideal situation, absolutely: being helped at any point in my life would have been great!

A healthier social structure would allow for this.

In a world where care was offered by the Community rather than by the individual, I wouldn't worry about speaking, just to find myself in worse trouble than when the 'helping' process started...

But this ain't a healthy world yet.

^^;

You asked why people feel that way.

So I've told you all the reasons why they might.

YMMV. 🤷🏾‍♀️

who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?

[quitealotofsodapop]

I've sent a similar ask before, but in peachsoup I want to see everyone's reaction to Sun Wukong being named Peaches.

Nehza: *face palms.* No memories and he is still subconsciously pining.

Erlang: *on the floor laughing* It takes a special kind of simping to do it with no memory.

Macaque: *crisis because even with no memory, Wukong chose his nickname for him as a name, but also he's supposed to be angry about dying but peaches-*

Prev.

Dont worry about resending. My inbox is stuffed to the gills and I get lost in it. Also indenting doesnt seem to work right when im on mobile.

I ended up making a bit of character dialogue based on this ask between Peaches and his school-friend "Nez"

Nez: "So how did you get the name Peaches?" Peaches: "Oh! When Dadsy- uh dad found me and MK, he called me it because peaches were pretty much the only thing I ate." Nez, agreeing hum: "Make sense." Peaches: "Then when we were adopted, we needed new legal names - so Zhu Taozi it was!" Nez: "So... you never considered having another name? I mean, the legal folk definitely gave you time to think about it. Why did Peaches resonate with you?" Peaches, twirling hair in thought: "This is gonna sound weird... but I felt like it's always been my name." Nez: "Really?" Peaches: "I know! It sounds so weird! But when I heard it for the first time, it just sounded so natural. Like someone I care about a long time ago called me it? Nez, intrigued: "Oh... so you think it was a nickname from a sibling or a parent or...?" Peaches, confidently: "I think it was someone I was in love with." Nez, memory thread unlocked?: "OH. Oh um... how can you tell?" Peaches, blush creeping: "I don't know! When I sit and meditate on stuff like this, I can just imagine someone just so beautiful with this deep voice chuckling my name like it was meant for me." (*hugs his own body lovingly*) Nez, honesty touched: "Aww..." Peaches, little embarrassed: "I'm sorry. Thats sappy." Nez: "Nah, it's really cute. Who knows? Maybe it's a sign from Yue Lao about who your soulmate it. He sometimes uses dreams to push fated lovers towards one another." Peaches, tail swishing with excitement: "Oh my gods, you're right! It could be a premonition! I wonder if my fated one is as beautiful as I see them! Nezha, internally: "He can't remember over 2000 years of life, but he can remember what his mate used to call him. It would be funny if it wasn't so bittersweet."

Once Macaque gets back, it's hard to see where his face mask begins and end. Learning that even with his memories gone Wukong chose to be called "Peaches", sends the shadow monkey into a conflicted mess. He's mad about getting KO'd obvs, but "Peaches" is both a tragic example of what if Wukong had died (Peaches is almost his own monkey after all), and a revelation that Wukong never truly forgot his mate.

Erlang is laughing his ass off as all of this goes down. His third eye was just spitting patch updates to him one day and BAM; Wukong's mate is back, and just learned that his amnesiac mate remembered and valued his pet name enough to make it his new name. It's way too funny to keep quiet about. He tells all his sworn bros about it.

When Peaches' family realises that "Peaches" was the pet name his big bro's crush called him back when they were a couple... they think its really cute. But the bad boy still isn't coming over for dinner.

[sinsirellaxx]

The other Sister (1k Special)

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

(1k Special)

Warning: infidelity (?), jealousy, Daemon 😎, not proofread 🥲

A/N: Aaaand I'm back (kinda) – was I even gone? 👀 Sorry it took me so long – I've been busy with work and my thesis but I've missed writing and sharing stories on here! This will definitely have a part 2 (maybe even 3 who knows)! Enjoy reading and let me know what you think!

PS: Do you know which novel/movie this was inspired by?

Gripping onto the marble of your washbasin you bit your lip in despair, angry tears dripping into the water as you watched the droplets cause small ripples in the water you had used to wash your face. Your hold on the cold surface hardened – your fingers turning white until your wet skin slipped on the smooth surface and you lost your grip completely. And with it your resolve not to cry. Ugly sobs forced their way out of your trembling lips as you let your head fall forward, your forehead almost touching the water. You let yourself cry and scream – what an ugly sight you must have been.

Present:

You smiled brightly as your eyes met your older sister’s – both of you clad in beautiful dresses. She grinned at you cheekily before her hand reached out to help you out of the carriage – she had always been there to help you even if there had been other people to assist you – she’d rather be the one to help you. Slinging your arm around hers you both walk towards your parents before you are greeted by the Lord Hand of the King. As the older man leads your family into the Red Keep and through the endless halls of the imposing building you lost yourself in the grandeur of the architecture. Your eyes tried to take in as much as possible as you blindly followed – trusting your sister to lead you to your destination. After what felt like hours you walked into a big Hall before everyone came to a halt – your sister’s lack of movement pulling you into a standstill as well. Subtly tugging on your arm your sister brought you back to the present as your eyes took in the people around you. You almost gasped – barely managing to gather yourself – before you curtsied along with your sister. Lifting your head you felt your heartbeat quicken when your eyes briefly met the prince’s – he was intimidatingly handsome, his gaze intense. But unfortunately, the magical moment didn’t last long as his eyes immediately settled on your older sister. You felt your heart clench as you felt your sister shift in excitement her soft giggle resonating in your ear. Oh no. The realization of why you had come all the way to Kings Landing dawned on you – your sister and the prince were to be betrothed. You stood no chance.

The remainder of the day passed by in a blur – the beautiful castle suddenly seemed so dull as you watched your sister talk to prince Daemon. You wanted to leave – to push your chair back and waltz out of the huge hall before disappearing forever. But where to? And even if you knew where to – you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. So, instead of leaving you silently sat in your chair as you pushed the food on your plate around. Your appetite long gone. A sudden hand on your right arm made you jump in your seat. Whipping your head around you were face to face with the cheeky smile of princess Rhaenyra. You felt your face heat up at the proximity.

“You want to leave this suffocating hall?” She raised her brow suggestively, the corner of her lips still pulled into a cheeky smile. You stared at the princess at a loss for words – she seemed nice enough and was around your age. Stealing one last glance at the prince and your sister you sighed in defeat before nodding meekly. And that was everything it took for Rhaenyra to stand up and excuse the both of you from the evening – there was a lot she wanted to show you she said. King Viserys chuckled at his daughter before nodding approvingly and just as you were about to stand up the princess pulled you out of your chair and out of the hall.

That is how you came to befriend the beautiful Targaryen princess. That same night you snuck back to your room with the help of Rhaenyra, giggling softly as you wished her a good night before closing the door softly.

“Must have been a fun night, I’m assuming.” Your sister’s voice came from behind you. You shrieked as you turned around with big eyes. She was sitting in her bed, watching you with a wide smile. Pushing yourself off the door you walked towards your own bed, letting yourself fall into the soft bedding with a sigh. “The princess seems very nice.” Is all you said – is all you could say before your sister started talking about her encounter with the prince dreamily. You pretended to listen quietly as you stood up from the bed to get ready for the night Occasionally nodding whenever you felt like your sister expected a reaction from you. You had never been necessarily jealous – you never had reason to. Your parents loved your sister and you unconditionally and never gave anyone any reason to feel less. You admired your sister – you always have. She was beautiful, kind, elegant and so protective of you. Why should you have been jealous of her? That night was the first time you noticed the difference between your sister and you. That night you looked at your sister with different eyes as she laughed along the prince you had heard so many stories about – about the prince you had dreamed of marrying almost every night. That night marked the night you’d distance yourself bit by bit from your innocent sister.

Days passed before the betrothal was announced publicly – followed by the news of the feast to celebrate the news. You sat beside the princess while you watched the maids run around the castle. “Are you listening? Hey!” Rhaenyra poked you impatiently with a frown on your face. You just smiled sheepishly at her before muttering a soft apology.

“It does not matter … it seems my dear friend is lost in her thoughts. Again.” She looked at you pointedly, a smile breaking out on her face. “You seem distracted. Is everything alright?” Her brows furrowed in worry as she leaned closer to you, the bright smile on her face almost gone. You sighed. You couldn’t possibly tell her that you were jealous of your sister. So instead, you just shrugged your shoulder.

“Apparently my friend is also mute now.”

You gasped in mock offence as you stared at her before the both of you broke out into laughter. After a while you broke your silence. “I don’t know … maybe I’m just homesick.” You knew that your excuse was lame, and you also knew that Rhaenyra wasn’t convinced – she was too smart for that. But thankfully she just nodded before clasping her hands together. “You know what? I know what will cheer you up!”

 ***

“When you said that you knew something that would cheer me up – this is definitely not what I was expecting!” You shrieked as you took a few steps back – away from the huge and potentially dangerous dragon.

Rhaenyra only rolled her eyes, “Come on … stop whining!” she laughed as she petted Syrax who eyed you curiously. “Syrax is a darling you need not be scared of her!” She turned around with a smirk, tilting her head in expectation. “Come on.” She sung as she reached one of her hands out, wiggling her fingers impatiently.

Groaning silently, you forced your way to step towards her – you couldn’t win against her. She had a dragon after all. When you were close enough, she grabbed onto your arm and pulled you closer. And that is how you befriended a dragon.

***

The days passed until they turned into weeks. You always felt your sister’ eyes on you, turning sad whenever you avoided her once again. She missed you terribly – you were sure of that – yet you could not find it in you to feel bad for her. Your heart still ached, and you were blinded by your jealousy. The morning of their wedding you stared at the ceiling with burning eyes – sleep did not find you that night. But it didn’t matter. Soon you’d be going back home and leave this place and your heartbreak behind. The only person you’d miss was your new best friend. You got ready for the wedding with the help of the maids. You were dressed in a beautiful deep blue gown and your hair was put into a half updo. As you stared at your reflection in the mirror you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying. What was it that your sister had that you did not? Willing those thoughts away you stood up from the stool and smoothed out your dress before a knock brought you out of your daydream. Your sister had requested to speak with you. Your shoulders tensed as you followed the maid to your sister’s temporary chambers. As you entered the room you were overwhelmed by the smell of expensive oils and the many maids and servants running around the room. And there, in front of the mirror, stood your sister in her wedding gown. Your breath hitched. She looked absolutely beautiful. You clenched your jaw as the traitorous voices in your head told you that it could have been you in that dress.

“Everyone, please leave. I wish to speak with my sister alone.” Your sister’s soft voice caught your attention as your eyes found hers. You walked deeper into the room as the maids rushed out until you stopped a few steps away from her. After the door fell shut your sister’s smile turned sad. She closed the distance between you and took hold of your hands as she stared into your eyes. It took everything in you not to flinch at the contact. The last time you had been close to your sister had been a while. A small part of you had missed her closeness.

“I wanted to talk to you before it is too late – you know how chaotic celebrations can get.” She laughed softly. “I feel like we haven’t talked in a while … I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice trembled as her eye turned wet. The sight of your sister’s teary eyes tugged at your heart, yet the bitterness simmered underneath, urging you to keep your guard up. You looked away briefly, gathering yourself, then finally met her gaze, struggling to keep your tone steady.

“You missed me?” you replied, trying to mask the hurt. “It seems like you’ve had plenty of company lately.” Your words came out softer than you intended, betraying the sting of jealousy you’d tried to hide.

Her face fell, a look of confusion and hurt flashing across her features. She squeezed your hands tighter, her brows drawing together as she searched your face.

“Of course I missed you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my sister, my closest friend. Don’t… don’t you feel the same? A-Are you not happy for me?”

Your sister's words hung in the air, but you forced a soft, polite smile, one that did not reach your eyes. You tucked away the hurt that twisted in your chest, burying it deeper where she couldn’t see. If she wanted to believe nothing had changed between you, then so be it. You would let her believe that.

"Of course I’ve missed you," you replied, your voice light and smooth, as if this moment meant little. "I'm happy for you. You've found a place here… with him. That’s what truly matters."

Her face softened in relief, as if she’d been bracing for an outburst. Instead, she seemed comforted by your calm. She squeezed your hands once more, her smile returning, brighter and more hopeful this time.

"I’m so glad to hear you say that," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "It means the world to me, truly. I’ve felt so lost here without you close to me." She paused, reaching to brush an imaginary wrinkle from the sleeve of your dress, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Promise me you'll write to me once you're back home?”

You nodded, your smile still perfectly poised. “Of course, I’ll write,” you said, though the thought of pouring your heart onto parchment felt hollow and impossible.

Her face softened, a flicker of sadness beneath her joy. “I know things won’t be the same,” she continued, her voice more wistful now, as if speaking to a memory instead of the person standing before her. “But I do hope we’ll be close again someday, like we used to be.”

You grit your teeth as you simply inclined your head, brushing your hands free of hers under the pretense of smoothing your gown. “Enjoy your day, sister. You deserve it,” you murmured, forcing your voice to remain even before turning gracefully, giving her one last smile as you walked out of the room, feeling her gaze linger on you until the door closed softly behind you.

The sound of laughter and clinking goblets filled the air as you wandered through the grand halls, desperately needing a reprieve from the crowd and festivities. The wedding was in full swing, with guests reveling in the union of your sister and Prince Daemon, their smiles radiant as they danced together, utterly oblivious to your absence.

Your steps slowed as you neared a small alcove off the main hall, hidden by flickering torches casting warm shadows against the stone. Voices carried from around the corner, low and animated. It was Daemon, unmistakable in both his voice and the easy arrogance in his tone, surrounded by a few lords who seemed eager to hear every word.

“Congratulations prince Daemon! Your bride is stunning,” one of the lords said, chuckling, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “But I must ask, Prince Daemon — what of her younger sister? Was she not to your liking?”

You froze in place, heart pounding as their conversation continued. You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to stay hidden, as you tried to listen to the rest of the conversation.

Daemon let out a low laugh, tinged with amusement. “She’s … not my type, let’s say,” he replied, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with something that stung. “Too young, too innocent.” He paused, his tone growing more dismissive. “Naive, even.”

One of the lords let out a knowing chuckle, leaning closer to the prince. “Perhaps she’ll mature into a beauty like her sister. But she does have her charms, does she not?”

Daemon gave a small shrug, as if brushing off the suggestion entirely. “Perhaps, though she lacks her sister’s allure. She’s … well, sweet, I suppose, but childlike.” He took a sip from his goblet, a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “I much prefer my wife’s look — fair, almost Targaryen in appearance. She looks the part, wouldn’t you agree?”

A ripple of laughter passed among the men, and Daemon’s voice dropped, though you still caught his next words.

“Besides,” he added, “the younger one would’ve withered under the scrutiny of court. I need someone with a bit more … resilience.”

His words cut through you – your chest felt tight as your breathing grew shallow. All the admiration, all the dreams you’d once dared to entertain about him evaporated in an instant, replaced by a raw bitterness. Not only did you not stand a chance with him but you were humiliated in front of the other lords – of potential suitors!

You didn’t wait to hear more. Gathering your skirts, you slipped away from the alcove, careful not to make a sound. Once out of earshot, you allowed yourself a shaky breath, steadying yourself against the wall. You wanted to hide in your bed and cry until you could no more – but instead you gathered yourself. You told yourself you’d leave this place soon enough, return to the quiet comfort of home, far from Daemon’s cruel words and your sister’s perfect smile. And this time, you’d leave without a second glance, carrying only the lessons this place had burned into your heart. You wouldn’t forget this feeling — it would harden you, make you stronger. No longer would you be the naïve, starry-eyed girl you had once been.

Straightening, you forced yourself to lift your chin, feeling a strange sort of clarity settle over you. You took one last steadying breath and then turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the hall with your dignity intact, vowing that you’d never again let your heart be so easily wounded.

Years passed, each one carrying you further from the girl you had once been in King’s Landing. The life you led now was one of careful cultivation and quiet growth. After leaving the capital, you’d poured yourself into study, becoming well-versed in courtly politics, the arts, and the languages that befitted a noble lady. You learned to sharpen your wit, hold your ground in conversation, and wield grace like a shield. The memory of Daemon’s careless dismissal haunted you at times, but it no longer stung like it once had. Instead, it had steeled you, hardened your resolve to never again let anyone consider you naïve or inconsequential.

Although you corresponded with your sister, your letters remained polite and carefully worded, a dutiful obligation rather than an openhearted exchange. You knew she had her new life and that the bond you’d once shared was forever altered. In contrast, your friendship with Princess Rhaenyra blossomed over the years; her letters often brought genuine laughter, her words playful and filled with affection. She confided in you about court gossip, the mounting pressures she faced as heir, and her own private struggles. In Rhaenyra, you found not only a true friend but an ally who valued you for who you had become.

One day, while going over correspondence in your family’s study, you received a letter sealed with the familiar crest of House Targaryen. It was brief, but the news within jolted you.

Your sister had given birth.

A girl. Healthy, strong, and full of life. But there was no joy in Daemon’s heart for a daughter, it seemed. According to the letter, he had expected a son, an heir he could shape and command, and his disappointment was already palpable. And more troubling still, your sister had endured a brutal, drawn-out birth, leaving her weakened and in dire need of support.

The words gnawed at you. A part of you still held the bitterness of old wounds, but another part—the part that remembered her as the sister who had once helped you out of the carriage and whispered childhood secrets in your ear—felt a pang of sympathy. She was alone, vulnerable, and perhaps needed you now more than she ever had.

Rhaenyra arrived at your family’s estate that afternoon, and the two of you took a long walk through the gardens. The letter remained clutched in your hand, your thoughts a tangled mix of reluctance and lingering affection.

“Your sister’s birth was difficult,” Rhaenyra said, glancing at you with a mix of concern and knowing. “My uncle is disappointed, then?” There was a hint of scorn in her tone. “He expects a male heir, as if that child’s worth is tied to his own ambitions.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “And my sister... She had a difficult birth and is left weakened. I suppose she needs support, though…” You hesitated, trying to put your own conflicted feelings into words.

Rhaenyra turned to you, her gaze steady. “She’s your sister. I don’t know what you’ll find when you see her again, but I do know you’ve grown far beyond whatever you left behind in King’s Landing.”

You looked away, gathering your thoughts. Rhaenyra had always known you best, and she understood what it took for you to move past your pain. “It’s hard,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not the same person I was back then. I don’t think I can just go and pretend nothing’s changed.”

Rhaenyra took your hand in hers, her expression gentle yet resolute. “Then don’t,” she said simply. “Go as you are now. You’re no longer the innocent girl who idolized him.” She smirked slightly. “And whatever my uncle sees when you walk through those halls, he’s not the one who defines you. You’ve done that yourself.”

The words settled over you, and a sense of clarity began to form. Rhaenyra was right—you weren’t returning to King’s Landing as the girl Daemon had once so easily dismissed, or the sister who’d been hurt and left behind. You were a woman with your own strength, dignity, and purpose. And perhaps, seeing your sister now would allow you to finally let go of the past, to redefine what your family—and even Daemon—meant to you.

Rhaenyra took your hand with a determined glint in her eye. “Come,” she said, a smile spreading across her lips, “we’ll go together. Besides, I know someone who would love to make this journey with us.” She tilted her head in the direction of where Syrax rested, her scales glinting like molten gold in the sunlight.

Your heart quickened. It wasn’t often that you flew with Rhaenyra, but today it felt right, a fierce and bold return to King’s Landing.

Moments later, you stood before Syrax, her amber eyes regarding you with curiosity. Rhaenyra mounted first, turning to extend a hand toward you. With a steadying breath, you took it, climbing up behind her. The familiar warmth and solidity of the dragon beneath you sent a thrill through your veins.

As Syrax took to the skies, the world below melted into a blur, the wind whipping past your face, filling you with a heady mix of freedom and anticipation. The Red Keep loomed on the horizon, and though the memories it held were still etched in your heart, you were ready to return.

The dragon soared over the city, its powerful wings casting shadows over the spires and rooftops of King’s Landing. You felt your resolve strengthen with every beat of Syrax’s wings. This time, you would face your past with an unyielding heart, ready to carve out your own place within the castle walls, no longer bound by the innocence you had left behind.

And with Rhaenyra by your side, you knew that whatever awaited you in the Red Keep, you would face it with the strength and grace that had become yours alone.

Your sister’s bedchamber was filled with a quiet sense of tension and weariness. The curtains were drawn, keeping out the bright midday sun, and the room was cast in a soft, dim light. She lay in the center of the grand bed, looking pale and fragile against the rich, embroidered pillows. Her golden hair, though still lovely, was limp and faintly tangled, her once-vibrant complexion dulled from the strain of childbirth. The sight of her lying there, so vulnerable, stirred a mixture of sympathy and something more complicated within you.

“Sister,” she greeted you softly, managing a weak but warm smile. She looked at you with a gaze that seemed to reach across the distance the years had created between you. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded, stepping forward to take her hand in yours, noticing the thinness of her fingers. “Of course,” you replied gently, the words feeling almost too light for the weight of your shared history.

“I wish I could greet you properly,” she murmured, glancing down as if ashamed. “It feels like all my strength has left me.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said quietly. “You don’t have to do anything right now but rest and recover.”

She nodded, giving you a grateful look, though her expression faltered as her eyes clouded with some unspoken thought. “It was a girl,” she said, voice faintly trembling. “Not the heir Daemon had wanted.”

You felt a pang of anger on her behalf. She had risked her life to bring this child into the world, and yet the news was marred by Daemon’s disappointment. “She’s still your child, and she’ll have your strength,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “That’s worth far more than any title.”

A sad, tired smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes softened as she looked at you. “Look at you … you have grown into a beautiful lady. You seem so much stronger now,” she whispered, her voice full of admiration. “I missed you all these years. I know I have no right to ask it, but… will you stay? At least until I’m well enough to manage on my own?”

There was a deep vulnerability in her gaze that cut through the old resentment, a reminder that she, too, had faced her own battles. You nodded, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. “I’ll stay,” you promised. “Whatever you need.”

Before she could respond, the door opened behind you. Turning, you saw Daemon entering the room, his face unreadable as he took in the sight of you beside your sister’s bed.

“Uncle,” you said, nodding in acknowledgment, your voice cool but civil.

As Daemon’s gaze traveled over you, you could feel the intensity of his attention, lingering on every detail. His eyes traced the graceful curve of your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat where your pulse beat steadily, betraying none of the mixed emotions churning within. His look dipped lower, pausing at the delicate lines of your collarbones framed elegantly by the neckline of your gown. You felt the weight of his gaze settle there, as though he was savoring each small change in you since he’d last seen you.

A subtle heat spread over your skin as his eyes lingered, taking in the soft contours of your waist, the quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, the sense of calm restraint woven into every movement. The longer he looked, the more evident it became that he noticed every detail—the faint glow in your cheeks, the natural elegance of your posture, the way the tailored gown accentuated the gentle curve of your figure, refined and matured since your last encounter.

As Daemon’s gaze traveled over you, you could feel the intensity of his attention, lingering on every detail. His eyes traced the graceful curve of your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat where your pulse beat steadily, betraying none of the mixed emotions churning within. His look dipped lower, pausing at the delicate lines of your collarbones framed elegantly by the neckline of your gown. You felt the weight of his gaze settle there, as though he was savoring each small change in you since he’d last seen you.

“Back from the edges of the realm, I see,” he said, his voice smooth and carrying a faint undercurrent of intrigue. His eyes traveled from the gentle slope of your shoulders to the way you now held yourself with quiet confidence, an air of poise you’d cultivated through months of growth and careful self-possession. “It seems time away has… agreed with you.”

A subtle heat spread over your skin as his eyes lingered, taking in the soft contours of your waist, the quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, the sense of calm restraint woven into every movement. The longer he looked, the more evident it became that he noticed every detail—the faint glow in your cheeks, the natural elegance of your posture, the way the tailored gown accentuated the gentle curve of your figure, refined and matured since your last encounter.

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied, inclining your head with the perfect touch of reserve, though a part of you reveled in the way his gaze lingered.

He nodded, though he didn’t pull his gaze away as quickly as propriety might demand. His eyes trailed over the gentle curve of your lips, lingering just long enough to stir a deep thrill within you. The smoldering intensity in his gaze felt as if he were seeing you fully for the first time, each subtle transformation, each newfound layer.

You took a steadying breath, feeling the weight of Daemon’s gaze still resting on you, hot and lingering. In a moment of collected grace, you inclined your head once more, summoning a polite smile to veil the turbulence beneath your calm exterior.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you said, your voice soft yet composed. “It’s been a long journey, and I should take some rest.” You allowed your gaze to drift past him, finding your sister still reclined in her bed, watching the exchange with an expression of relief mixed with gratitude.

You moved to her bedside, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her hand. “Rest well, sister,” you whispered, the tenderness in your tone genuine. She offered you a faint smile in return, her fingers squeezing yours lightly as she murmured her thanks. Without sparing Daemon another glance you turned around and exited the room.

As you left, you could feel his gaze following you, searing into your back as though it had the power to reach through layers of fabric and the composed mask you wore. Only once the door closed behind you did you allow yourself to exhale, heart racing from the intensity of that encounter.

The days that followed were filled with a quiet kind of purpose. You spent part of each day in your sister’s chambers, helping her recover as she regained her strength little by little. You would sit beside her, quietly assisting her with whatever small comforts she needed. She seemed grateful for your presence, her hand often reaching for yours as though seeking comfort from some unspoken wound.

Outside of these private moments, you found yourself drawn into the rhythm of court life, engaging with nobles, attendants, and visiting dignitaries. You navigated these interactions with a newfound confidence, a quiet charm that seemed to intrigue those around you. But no matter where you went or with whom you spoke, you felt the familiar weight of Daemon’s gaze from across the hall, a constant, burning presence that never seemed to waver.

On occasion, you would glance his way, only to find him studying you with that same intense, piercing stare. There was no mistaking his fascination —each time your eyes met, it felt as if he was peeling away the layers of distance and propriety, searching for the woman he now saw in you.

It was late one evening, after you’d bid your sister goodnight and retired to your chambers, that you felt a presence outside your door. The faint whisper of footsteps reached you, and before you could prepare yourself, the door burst open and Daemon stepped inside, quickly closing it behind him.

“What brings you here at this hour, my lord?” You tried to keep your voice steady, though your heart pounded with a mixture of surprise and anxious anticipation. His gaze was focused, piercing – it was nearly impossible to keep your calm.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but his eyes never lost their focus, sharp and unapologetic. “I’ve been watching you,” he said, his voice low, edged with a dangerous hint of intrigue. He took a step closer, and you instinctively took a small step back, your fingers brushing the back of the chair beside you. His gaze roamed over you with a familiarity that was unsettling, a shadow of possessiveness in the way he looked at you. “Each day, you reveal another part of yourself. Something I hadn’t noticed before.”

For a heartbeat, you hesitated, glancing down in an effort to steady yourself. “My lord, I am a maiden, and it isn’t appropriate for you to be here,” you said, lifting your chin with a blend of bravery and caution. “If anyone were to see…”

Daemon’s eyes glinted with a hint of amusement at your words. “You shouldn’t worry about that – no one will see,” he replied, his tone smooth and easy, as though the matter of propriety were trivial. He moved closer, his presence enveloping the space between you. “Besides, I have no interest in the eyes of others. My interest lies solely with you.”

You steadied yourself, raising an eyebrow in quiet defiance, though your pulse betrayed the thrill rippling beneath your calm exterior. “Surely, with all your responsibilities, there are more pressing matters to occupy your attention,” you replied, challenging him – annoyed by his audacity. You hoped to steer the conversation toward some safer ground.

A spark of intrigue lit his gaze. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone growing softer, though he continued to close the distance between you, the intensity in his eyes darkening. “But none nearly as … captivating.”

The air between you grew taut, as if the space itself held a secret between the two of you, each searching for something in the other. You could feel his desire to break down the carefully constructed distance you had built in your time apart. He looked at you with such singular focus that it was hard not to be drawn in by it, hard not to feel yourself unraveling under the weight of his stare.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost a murmur. “You may not realize how much you’ve changed,” he said, eyes flickering over you, tracing the slope of your neck until his eyes stopped at your décolleté.

You met his gaze, refusing to look away despite the memories of his past disregard. Those first dismissive words, his preference for a different woman altogether. But here he was now, his attention unwavering, as if each of those careless dismissals had been erased from his memory.

“Perhaps I have,” you replied, holding his gaze with a faint challenge. “But I’m not the only one who’s changed, am I?”

At that, his smirk faltered, his expression flickering to something more raw, unreadable. He reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of your sleeve, a featherlight touch that nonetheless sent a thrill through you, catching you off guard. His fingers found your wrist, tracing gently along the skin, each stroke leaving a burning imprint.

“Perhaps I was a fool to overlook you,” he murmured, his voice reverent, his words weaving through the quiet space. His gaze lingered on your lips, tracing them in a way that made your heart pound faster, your defenses weakening.

After a moment’s pause, you inclined your head, a hint of defiance in your eyes. “You should leave, my prince,” you replied, stepping back just enough to break his touch, though the embers in your gaze told him far more than your words could convey. “Goodnight.”

For a moment, the room hung still. The intensity in his eyes burned into you, and yet, something in his expression shifted. The cool indifference he'd worn so often, the charming smile that had once been his armor, cracked. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with frustration—sharp, predatory. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came. He was used to being pursued, used to commanding attention with ease. The dismissal stung, and it was clear to you that he had never expected you to turn him away so coldly, not after all the attention he'd lavished on you tonight.

Daemon's gaze flickered one last time to your face, and then, without another word, he turned on his heel. The abruptness of his departure left a tense silence in his wake. His footsteps echoed down the hall, fading into the distance, and you felt a rush of relief flood through you, the tension that had built up between you both dissolving with his exit.

You exhaled a quiet sigh, leaning back against the chair you had stepped away from, your heart still pounding from the exchange. The unsettling mix of exhilaration and frustration had left you breathless, yet part of you was grateful for the distance that now separated you from him. You had handled it—had maintained control, despite the overwhelming temptation to give in to his presence.

A few days passed, but it felt as though the tension between you and Daemon only thickened with each passing hour. He seemed to watch you more closely now, a constant presence that never strayed too far. You couldn’t escape his gaze, and though you tried to maintain your composure, the weight of it was unbearable at times.

That afternoon, you found yourself speaking with a younger lord who had been quite eager to engage you in conversation. He was attentive, listening intently as you spoke about the political goings-on at court. You found yourself enjoying the conversation, the laughter that flowed between you both coming easily. The lord’s hand was a little too close to yours as he laughed, his proximity felt almost too intimate, but you didn’t mind.

That was when you felt it—Daemon’s eyes upon you. You didn’t need to look to know his gaze was trained on you. His sharp, possessive stare burned through the air, and the laughter you had been enjoying faltered just slightly.

The lord didn’t seem to notice the shift, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Daemon’s stare, the intensity of it, as if his eyes were drawing a possessive line around you.

You made your excuses quickly, pulling away from the lord with a polite smile before leaving the conversation behind. Daemon’s gaze never left you, though, as you made your way through the crowded hall, his presence like a storm waiting to break.

That evening, you returned to your chambers, seeking solitude, but the silence didn’t last long. The door to your room opened without warning, and there stood Daemon, his posture rigid with a barely contained rage. His eyes, dark and stormy, locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“My lord,” you said, maintaining a calm, polite tone, but your insides were anything but calm. “What brings you here at this hour?”

His lips curled into a cold smirk, but his gaze was heavy, almost predatory. “I’ve been watching you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It seems you’ve forgotten your place, haven’t you?”

You took a step back, a slight instinctive movement, but he closed the distance between you in an instant, the tension in the air thickening like a storm ready to break. “Laughing with another man like that,” he growled, his voice sharper now, the edges laced with anger. “Allowing him to come so close… Do you enjoy making me watch?”

You straightened, lifting your chin, but your pulse quickened. “It is not my fault if others find me engaging in conversation, my lord,” you said, your voice tinged with a challenge.

Daemon’s smirk slipped into something more dangerous, his gaze narrowing. He stepped even closer, forcing you to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. “You don’t fool me, sweetling,” he snarled, his voice suddenly cold and sharp. “I see how you play this game, pretending to be untouchable. But I know what you want.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a brutal grip. The force of his touch made you gasp, but he didn’t release you. Instead, he tugged you closer, his voice now a low growl. “You think you can tease me like that, string me along, but it’s not a game anymore. You want me just as much as I want you, and I’m tired of waiting.”

Your chest tightened, your breath shallow as his words sank in. You tried to pull your wrist free, but his grip tightened, his fingers pressing hard against your skin.

Daemon’s other hand reached up, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw as he studied your face. “You may be playing coy with everyone else, but I see through you. I know the way your body reacts when I’m near, the way you can’t resist me. Stop pretending. I’ve been patient, but not anymore.”

The heat from his body radiated against yours, the air between you charged with raw, undeniable tension. His eyes raked over you hungrily, his lips barely an inch from yours as he spoke again, his voice thick with a mix of anger and desire.

“You don’t get to walk away from me anymore, little bird,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I won’t allow it. I want you, and I’ll have you, whether you like it or not.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and despite your desire to resist him, a flicker of excitement mixed with fear ignited deep within you. But you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let him have that power over you.

“Let go of me, my lord,” you said, though your voice trembled despite your best efforts. “This is not appropriate. You are my sister’s husband, and you have no right to treat me this way.”

Daemon’s grip tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might not let you go at all. His eyes darkened further, the raw desire in them burning through you. “You can keep pretending if you want,” he growled, his voice low and menacing, “but I know what you feel. You’re just as hungry for this as I am. And when I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to pretend anymore.”

You swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself, but his presence was overwhelming, suffocating.

Finally, you managed to wrench your wrist free from his grasp, stepping back. You didn’t speak immediately, your chest rising and falling with the effort of controlling your breathing. The room felt too small, too hot, as Daemon stood there, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“I said,” you whispered through gritted teeth, “leave.”

Daemon's smirk deepened as he took another step forward. You tried to back away, but his grip on your wrist tightened. Daemon finally closed the space between you, the heat of his body made your pulse race. His fingers curled tighter around your wrist, not bruising, but forceful, as if to remind you that you were his — whether you wanted to admit it or not.

"You don’t get to play innocent anymore," he said, his voice low and rough, dripping with both frustration and desire. "You tease and you push me away, but I see the way you look at me. You want me just as much as I want you."

His face was inches from yours now, his eyes fierce and possessive, like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and unrelenting. "I’ve been watching you. Watching you play with the others, laughing with them, letting them touch you – touch something that should be mine. But I’m done playing games."

You inhaled sharply, trying to muster the strength to push him away, but his grip tightened around your wrist, pinning you against the wall. "Daemon —"

"No," he growled, cutting you off, his mouth capturing yours in a forceful kiss before you could say another word. His lips were demanding, taking what he wanted with a brutal urgency. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, as though he could melt into you, as though you were already his.

You tried to pull away, your mind screaming that you needed space, that this wasn’t right. But his hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you still as his kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

"Don’t you dare pull away from me," he muttered between kisses, his voice almost a growl. "You’ll stop pretending you’re untouched. You’ll stop pretending you don’t want this, because I can see it. You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve been waiting for me to claim you."

You tried to push against his chest, but he was unyielding, his body pressed so tightly against yours that you couldn’t move. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hand slid lower, over the curve of your hip, his touch possessive and almost painful.

“I’ve been patient long enough,” Daemon murmured, his breath ragged. “And now, I’m taking what’s mine.”

With a sudden move, his lips found yours again, harder this time, as if he was trying to mark you as his own. His hands were everywhere — gripping, pulling, commanding. The urgency in his touch made your heart race, and though your mind screamed for you to stop him, you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to him — each touch sending shivers down your spine, making your pulse quicken.

“Daemon, please—" you tried again, but he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and intense, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Hush now,” he shushed you, his voice low, almost warning. “There is no escape, sweetling. You’ll belong to me, and I’ll make sure you know it.”

His lips brushed over your neck again, his breath hot against your skin. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of his presence making it hard to think, to breathe. He was overpowering you, pushing you into a corner, and yet, a part of you felt trapped by something far more dangerous than his physical presence.

You felt a fire, a heat, coursing through your veins as he touched you, and no matter how much you told yourself you should resist, a darker part of you wanted to give in. But this wasn’t just about attraction — it was power. Daemon was making it clear that he wanted to control you, to possess you completely.

“I want you,” he repeated, his voice rougher now. “And I will have you.”

He pressed his body harder against yours, forcing you back into the stone wall, his lips claiming yours once more in a kiss that left no room for doubt. Daemon wasn’t going to leave — not this time, not ever. You were his, and he was going to make sure to set his claim.

As he deepened the kiss, the realization settled like a weight in your chest. You had crossed a line. And Daemon Targaryen had no intention of letting you turn back.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Language, mention of death

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

*This chapter sets up the story-it’s a bit long due to this.*

Minors DNI 18+

You sat on the side of your bed rubbing your arm, trying to get the sting of the pain to go away. Another night, another argument with Robert, your boyfriend. You’d only been dating about 9 months, and at first everything seemed perfect. You felt the sting of the tears fill your eyes 

Knowing how much he hated when you cried, you fought to keep them at bay. Crying after he hit you only made things worse. You were thankful, however, your four year old daughter, Jazmyne was already in bed. 

You did your best to keep her shielded from the violence that plagued your life now. Your late husband, Josh, was a kind, gentle man. He wouldn’t lift a hand to you and was an amazing father to Jazmyne. Josh was so gentle that if a spider got into the house he’d scoop it up and carry it outside. He died unexpectedly after a workplace accident. Your heart was irrevocably broken when the two of you lost him. 

Now Robert was in your lives. You met him at a house party and he swept you off your feet. The first time he hit you, the two of you were arguing and things got heated quickly. Then he slapped you across your face, drawing blood from your mouth. You made him leave and told him it was over. 

For almost a month you kept him at bay. Then loneliness, apologies and manipulation took over. You took him back. Things were fine, and then a switch flipped again. 

The latest fight was over dinner. You’d come home late from work and he was mad because dinner was late. After picking Jazmyne up at your friend’s house you decided to stop and grab a pizza. When you got home, he was there and became angry when he saw the pizza box.

“What the fuck is that?” He growled as he motioned to the box. “It’s dinner, and I’ve asked you not to use that language in front of my daughter.” He stepped closer to you and grabbed your chin hard, “I’ll talk however the fuck I want you stupid bitch!” You jerked your face away and set the box down. 

Looking at Jazmyne you spoke softly, “Go play while mommy gets your dinner ready, okay?” Your beautiful little girl nodded and bounded down the hall to her room. 

You grabbed a plate for your toddler and started to cut up her slice of pizza. “You’re a lazy fucking whore, you know that. What kind of mother doesn’t cook for her family?” You ignored him and kept getting Jazmyne’s food ready. 

He grabbed your arm hard, pulling you around to face him and causing you to drop her plate. “Don’t you fucking ignore me. I asked you a question.” “Robert, I’m not in the mood to fight with you. I think you should leave. I’m exhausted and I need to get Jazzy ready for dinner and bed. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

You tried to pull your arm out of his grip, but it was too tight. “Let me the fuck go!” You yelled. 

Robert got in your face, his eyes dark with anger, “I’ll let you go when I feel like it. You belong to ME!” He let go of you, grabbed some food and went to sit in the living room. You walked towards Jazmyne’s room and found her crying.

You ran in and got on the floor, “Oh baby, what’s wrong?” “He hurt mommy.” She softly said. You scooped her up and held her tight, knowing you needed to make a change before it was too late. “I’m okay baby girl, I promise. Let’s go eat our pizza and we can play with your new bath paint tonight.” 

She smiled wide and nodded. You took her into the kitchen, put her at the table and got her a piece of pizza. You cut her slice and grabbed you one too. You noticed she kept looking towards Robert and you could see the fear in her eyes. You knew exactly what you needed to do. 

After dinner, you got Jazmyne in the tub and she played with her new bath paint. She talked about her new friends at preschool and how much fun they were. You had recently put her in preschool to help her socialize and to shield her from the crap between you and Robert. 

“So, Jazzy, what are their names?” You asked her as she excitedly talked about her new friends. “Arrow and Zeppy, they are twins, well his name is Zeppelin, but everyone calls him Zeppy.” She said with a smile on her face. You almost choked on air. There was no way these children are the children of the man you’d pined after, Jensen Ackles. You’d been a fan of his for years and watched everything he was in, at least twice. You were heartbroken when you heard his wife died during childbirth. She was giving birth to the twins, and there were complications. 

Jensen disappeared from public life after the death of his wife. He still acted on Supernatural, but his appearances in public and at conventions stopped. It wasn’t until recently he had started to make sporadic appearances and going back to conventions. 

After her bath you got her ready and into bed. Walking into the living room you saw Robert sitting on the couch. “We need to talk.” You said as you walked in. He looked up from his phone and his jaw clenched. 

“I’m going to record this conversation for my protection and yours. I don’t want any confusion as to what is being said tonight.” You told him as you hit record on your phone and he scoffed.

“I deserve better than to be with someone who puts their hands on me. My priority is my daughter, and she always will be. I don’t want her to grow up thinking it’s okay to be hit or grabbed by someone who says they love her. I want you to leave, and not come back. I’m not doing this anymore. We aren’t good for each other, so this, (you motioned between the two of you), is over.” 

Robert sat silently. The eerie silence sent a chill through your body. He sat up and started to speak low, “If that’s what you think, then I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it.” “That’s what I’m saying. I need your key.” He pulled out his keys and took the house key off his ring. Then he stood up, grabbed his stuff and left. 

You let out the breath you were holding and quickly went and locked up the house. You called your best friend and told her what happened. She was glad you finally kicked him out. “Do you need me to come over tonight?” She asked. “No, he left his key, so I’m sure it’s going to be okay.” You reassured her. “Okay, well I’m proud of you, if you need me, let me know.” “I will, I love you girl.” “Love you too, bye.” 

Hanging up you grabbed your pajamas and went to take a shower. Climbing in you felt the pain from Robert’s abuse. You cried. Your tears mixing with the water that cascaded from the showerhead. 

After your shower you climbed into bed and scrolled on your phone. You found yourself on Jensen’s Instagram page, smiling at the pictures he’d posted of himself and his children. A new post popped up and it made your heart flutter. It was a picture of his twins and he captioned it with “These two are rocking their first year of preschool. Zeppy has a new little friend he talks about all the time. He said she’s a princess because her name is Jasmine.” Your eyes went wide, was he talking about your Jazzy? You smiled and put your phone down, falling asleep.

The next morning you got Jazzy up and ready for school. On the drive there she was really quiet. “Jazzy, baby, what’s wrong?” You looked in the mirror and met your daughter’s big green eyes. They were full of sadness and fear, “I’m scared mommy.” A frown formed on your face, “What are you scared of baby?” “Robert. He hurt you.” “Oh baby, I’m okay. I made him leave. He won’t be back. It’s just you and me now.” A small smile formed on her face.

Getting her out of her seat at the school the two of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance. Your daughter squealed in excitement and dropped your hand, taking off towards two children. “Arrow, Zeppy!” She squealed. The two children turned around and smiled, running towards her. 

You continued walking and made it to the very excited children. Hugs were exchanged and giggles filled the air. Then there he was, Jensen Ackles. He chuckled as he walked up to you and the three children, “Oh this must be the little princess.” You smiled as your eyes met his. He extended his hand, “Hello, I’m Jensen, and these two are mine, Arrow and Zeppelin.” You extended your hand to shake his hand, not realizing there was a bruise on your arm or on the side of your face. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N and this little one is Jazmyn. I’ve heard so much about your children from her. They are really sweet to her.” 

You noticed his eyes kept scanning you and that’s when you noticed the bruise. You pulled your arm back and felt the embarrassment fill your cheeks. Zeppelin spoke up, breaking the silence between you and Jensen, “Daddy, can we have a playdate after school? Pleeease.” The three children were looking up at Jensen and you. “Well, how about we plan something for the weekend, that way you three can have longer to play, I mean if it’s okay with you.” He looked at you. “Oh absolutely. Besides, I have to work late today and Jazzy will be at her Auntie Nichole’s house.” 

Jensen grabbed the twins’ hands and started to walk towards the door, “We probably should get them inside.” He gestured. “Yeah, don’t want them to be late.” 

After saying your goodbyes, you and Jensen walked towards the parking lot together. “Hey, Y/N. Let me give you my number so we can work out the details of the playdate, and if um, you need anything, please call me.” You offered him a soft smile, “That would be great, Jensen, thank you. I know Jazzy will love it.”

The two of you said your goodbyes, and as you started to walk away Jensen stopped and called your name. “Hey, Y/N.” He stepped closer to you, “He’s an asshole and you don’t deserve that. I promise we aren’t all like that. If you need anything, please call me.” “Thank you, Jensen. For everything, and just so you know I made him leave and broke up with him.” Jensen smiled and lightly touched your arm, “good”. 

Hours later your shift was done. Nichole had picked Jazzy up from school and she was going to bring her home later. You pulled into your driveway and walked in your house. Putting your stuff down you decided you’d take a quick shower before Jazmyne got home. 

Getting out of the shower and getting dressed you walked into the living room and turned on the television. Just as you sat down the doorbell rang. You thought it was Nichole with Jazmyne, but you were wrong. Standing in front of you with eyes full of rage was Robert. 

“Robert, what the hell are you doing here?” Before you could get an answer he came into the house and punched you across the face. You fell to the ground and he started kicking you and punching you. 

You put your hands up to defend yourself and screamed and cried for help and for him to stop. After what felt like hours, he finally left. You laid on the floor, bleeding and in so much pain. You found the strength to grab your phone and pushed the call button. 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said. You were in and out of consciousness. You started to speak weakly, “Help me…” “Y/N!? Is that you? It was Jensen. You accidentally called Jensen. “Y/N! Answer me, what’s wrong?”

All you could get out was “Jazzy.” Before you passed out. Jensen hung up, called the headmaster at the preschool and told them what happened. They told Jensen they would call 911, he asked for your address but they wouldn’t give it to him. 

Panic filled his body. He called Jared and had him and Gen watch the kids. He was heading to the closest hospital to wait to see if you were brought there. 

The ambulance arrived and Jensen saw you. He tried to get the nurse to tell him what was going on with you, but she wouldn’t give him any information. He paced the waiting room floor and tried everything he could think of to get someone to give him information. 

About 30 minutes later he saw Jazmyne come in with a woman who was close to your age. Jazmyne immediately saw Jensen and ran to him. Nichole tried to grab her, but she was too quick. 

Jensen scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck, “Hey Jazzy, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Nichole stepped closer, “Oh hi, um how do you know Y/N and Jazzy?” “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jazzy goes to daycare with my twins, and that’s how I know Y/N. She and I just met today, but I’ve known Jazzy.” 

Nichole stretched her hand out, “Hi, I’m Nichole, Y/N’s best friend. Do you know what happened?”

“Not really. She called me and all she said was “Help me, then she said Jazzy’s name. I didn’t know her address so I called the headmaster and told her what happened. I can only assume this was her ex’s doing. She told me she kicked him out.” “She did, but I think he came back over tonight.”

Just then the doctor came out. “I’m here for the family of Ms Y/L/N” Jensen and Nichole stepped forward. “Hi, we’re her family. How is she?” “I’m Dr Fitzpatrick and I’ve been treating her. She has multiple lacerations, some broken ribs, a broken nose and orbital bone, and lots of bruising. She was beat up so badly we have to put her in a medically induced coma to help her body heal. She will be in it for a few days.” 

Jensen and Nichole gasped, “When can we see her?” Nichole asked softly. “You can see her one at a time, but I don’t recommend you take her in there.” The doctor nodded. They both nodded, “Nichole, you go and I’ll stay with Jazzy.” 

Nichole nodded, thanked Jensen and walked to your room. About 30 minutes later Nichole was walking back into the waiting room with red, puffy eyes.

Jensen walked up to her and gave her a hug. She sobbed into his chest. “Jensen, she looks so bad. How could anyone ever do something like that to her. She’s such an amazing person.” Jensen just held her tight. “Do you mind if I go see her?” He asked softly. She shook her head. 

As Jensen walked down the hallway his heart rate sped up. When he saw you laying in your bed, bloodied, bruised and broken his heart ached and anger filled his body. Robert had to pay. He sat beside your side and held your hand, “Hey Y/N, Jazzy is safe. We need you to get better. I can’t plan that playdate by myself.” He chuckled as he held you tight.

Before he left the room, he leaned over and kissed your forehead. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he felt the need to do it, “You’re safe Y/N, and so is Jazzy. I promise you both will be safe.”

Jensen walked back towards Nichole and Jazzy. He gave Nichole his number and told her if she needed anything, or any help with Jazzy to give him a call or send him a text. She nodded and said thank you. 

Jazzy clung tightly to his neck, and Nichole had to pry him off. Jensen stepped closer, “hey, Jazzy, maybe Auntie Nichole can bring you over tomorrow afternoon so you can play with the Arrow and Zeppy, would you like that? She nodded wildly, “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” 

Then Jensen was gone. A few hours later, when she was sure you were out of the woods, she and Jazzy left for the night. 

She was worried about you, but Jensen, oh Jensen was worried about you, Jazzy, and wanted to hurt Robert for hurting you. He couldn’t shake the feeling, but drove home. 

You were left laying in the bed, listening to the sounds of conversations and unable to react or speak to them. You heard Jensen, felt Jensen, and above all you felt his emotion behind his voice. That was something you were thankful to have heard and felt, at least that and Jazzy gave you something worth fighting for. 

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, smoking weed, suggestive

Chris's POV

The adrenaline from the fight with Y/n still coursed through my veins as I stumbled into my room, slamming the door behind me. The echo of our argument replayed in my mind like a broken record. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, every part of me ached, not just from the physical exertion but from the emotional turmoil. How had it escalated so quickly? One minute, we were joking around, and the next, I was standing there, revealing my darkest secrets, while she looked at me like I was a stranger. It crushed me.

Dropping onto my bed, the weight of the world hit me in my chest. I needed to take the edge off, needed something to help me forget the angry words and the hurt in her eyes. I reached for my stash on my bed side table, my hands trembling slightly as I rolled a joint. The familiar motions were supposed to soothe me, but all I could think about was Y/n’s face when I told her the truth about my life. The way she’d looked at me when I mentioned the cartel, like I was some sort of monster.

I walked out to my backyard and took a long drag, inhaling deeply, hoping the smoke would clear the fog of confusion and regret, but it only served to intensify my thoughts. I paced in the grass, the smoke curling around me, and I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that settled in my stomach. Y/n was the last person I wanted to hurt, but here I was, tangled up in a life I never wanted her to be a part of. I’d cut her out for her safety, convinced it was the right choice. But now, standing on the line of losing her forever, I wasn’t so sure.

My mind drifted back to the memories we shared, the laughter, the innocent joy of a portion of our teenage years. I remembered the promises we made to always be there for each other, but I’d shattered those promises. It was killing me, and I felt more trapped than ever.

By the time I finally collapsed onto my bed, it was midday. Sleep came slowly, and when it did, it was filled with restless dreams of Y/n, my heart aching with every turn. I woke up to the sun hanging low in the sky, filtering through my curtains, and grabbed my phone, my heart leaping as I saw a message from her that just came in.

"Hey, I’d like to talk. Can we meet up?"

It was like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. I jumped out of bed, adrenaline kicking in again, and quickly replied, my fingers flying over the screen.

"Of course. I can come pick you up if you like?”

Y/N's POV

I paced the living room, my mind still swirling with everything that had happened after the party. My parents were back from their weekend away, and I could already feel the questions piling up. I didn’t want to deal with their prying. Not now. Not when I was about to meet Chris, the guy who’d just opened up a whole new level of chaos in my life.

Their laughter filtered in from the kitchen, my dad’s booming voice mingling with my mom’s soft giggles. It was a comforting sound, but it also reminded me of how out of place I felt. They’re a far cry from the situationship I’m placed in right now. How could I tell them I was meeting Chris? The guy I’d just found out was a drug dealer? I shook my head, feeling the anxiety creep up my spine.

I couldn't tell them at all. I walked into the kitchen to greet them, and had a small catch up before they decided to go to bed after being tired from all their travelling. “Good night, I might head out for a walk in a bit..” I called out as I headed towards my room, gunning toward my balcony, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

I climbed over the railing through the tree house window and climbed down onto the grass, making my way around the side of the house. The air was cooler outside, as the sun was fully set and my heart raced with anticipation and uncertainty. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation would change everything.

When Chris arrived, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he rubbed the back of his neck like he was trying to ease the burden of the world off it. I felt a bit of sympathy for him. He had his demons, and now, he was standing in front of me, ready to confront them.

“Hey” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

“Hey.” I smiled faintly, trying to push aside the heaviness of our last encounter. “Let’s go.”

We climbed into his car, the silence stretching between us as he drove toward an empty parking lot a few blocks away. He parked and I turned to him, feeling the weight of everything hanging in the air.

“Okay, so..” I started searching for the right words. “We need to talk about what happened.. About you.”

Chris took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. “I know I should’ve told you sooner. I just.. I didn’t want to drag you into this mess. I thought I was protecting you.”

“By lying to me?” I shot back, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. “You’re involved in something dangerous, Chris. I don’t want you to end up in jail.. or worse.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure it out.” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “Nate got pulled into it, and I thought I could stay away, but it wasn’t that easy. Once I was in, it was like a trap. But seeing you again, it felt right. I didn’t want to lose you again.”

My heart softened a little. “So, what are you going to do about it? I can’t just sit back and watch you get deeper into this. If you want this to work, you have to make an effort to get out.”

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/n.” he said, his voice steady and serious. “I promise I’ll try. I want to find a way out of this life.”

I studied his face, searching for any sign of deception, but all I saw was sincerity. “Do you.. do you take drugs yourself?”

He hesitated, looking down for a moment. “I smoke weed. That’s it. I don’t do anything harder, I swear. I just sell it.”

I sighed, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “Okay. I just need to know you’re not in over your head.”

“I’m not. I want to make things right.” he assured me. “Let’s figure this out together.”

“Alright..” I said slowly, feeling a spark of hope. “But this isn’t just a one time thing. You need to be committed to making changes.”

"You might need to give me some time.. You know to figure out how to go about it."

"Well that's a start I guess."

He smiled, and it was like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. We talked and laughed a bit, the earlier heaviness fading away as we settled into an easy rhythm, the way it used to be.

As we drove back toward my place, I glanced at him, a playful idea popping into my mind. “Do you have any weed on you?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, “Uh..yeah I do.. Why?”

I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. “Would you.. let me try some weed? Just once?”

His face shifted immediately from relaxed to slightly shocked, his brows knitting together in concern. “Wait, you want to smoke weed? Now?”

I bit my lip, feeling a bit self conscious. “I mean, yeah. Just once. I’ve never tried it before, and.. well, I want to understand your world a little better.”

He looked at me, searching my face, like he was trying to make sure I was serious. “Y/n.. it’s not really a big deal, you know. I don’t even smoke that often myself.”

“I get that” I replied, leaning a little closer to him, “but I’ve been curious about it for a while. And if I’m going to try it, I’d rather do it with you. Just this once. It’s not like I’m planning to make it a habit.”

Chris sighed, looking away for a moment, clearly torn. “I don’t know. You don’t have to do this to understand me. You don’t have to be a part of everything I do.”

I put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “I know. But tonight, it feels.. right. It’s just one little thing. Besides, we’ll be safe. We can go up to the treehouse where no one will bother us.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a trace of amusement in his eyes. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“Completely” I said with a grin. “So? Are you going to let me in on the secret, or do I have to ask someone else?”

He sighed again, but I could see him slowly relenting, the protective hesitation softening in his gaze. “Fine” he finally said. “But just this once. And only because you’re way too stubborn for your own good.”

I beamed, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Promise.”

Together, we got out of the car and made our way toward the treehouse tucked away in the backyard, its old wooden steps creaking slightly under our weight. The fairy lights were still hung up from our date a few days ago, so I switched them on to create a bit of atmosphere, before arranging the blanket and pillows.

Once we were settled in the small, cosy space, Chris pulled a small pouch and rolling papers out of his jacket pocket. I watched, fascinated, as he carefully rolled the joint, his hands working with practised ease.

“This feels so..  surreal” I admitted, leaning back against the treehouse wall.

He gave me a teasing look. “You’re not getting scared, are you?”

“Me? No way.” I smirked, hiding the nervous energy bubbling up inside.

Once the joint was ready, he held it between his fingers, lighting it and taking a slow drag before passing it to me.

“Alright, so here’s the deal” he said, his voice low, calm, almost instructional. “Take a small inhale, but don’t try to pull it too deep your first time. Just let the smoke fill your mouth, then breathe it in slowly and exhale. Don’t rush it.”

I nodded, holding the joint carefully, feeling its warmth between my fingers. I took a small breath, the smoke tasting strange, earthy as it hit my throat. Almost immediately, I started coughing, my eyes watering as the harshness of it caught me off guard. Chris chuckled softly, watching me with a mix of amusement and sympathy.

“Yeah, that first hit always catches people by surprise” he said, patting my back gently. “Just take it slow. It’s not a competition.”

I laughed, still coughing a bit but determined. “Okay, okay. I’ll go easy.”

This time, I took a gentler pull, letting the smoke settle in my mouth before breathing it in, feeling a warmth unravel in my chest. I handed it back to him, trying to keep a straight face as I resisted another cough.

“See?” he said, his gaze softer, more relaxed. “Not so bad.”

“Not bad at all” I replied, feeling the first gentle waves of calm starting to spread through me.

We passed it back and forth, the silence between us comfortable, the flicker of his lighter illuminating the space between drags. I watched him, noticing the way his shoulders relaxed, his posture easy, the usual weight he carried seemed a little lighter here, away from the world’s eyes.

As the joint burned down, I couldn’t help but feel a new kind of connection with him, one that was less about the past or the future, and more about this shared, simple moment in the present.

I looked over at him, catching his gaze, and for a moment, everything felt like it was supposed to. Just us, like we used to be, but with a little more understanding, a little more honesty. The night air was still, the stars just beginning to peek through the branches above, and I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new for us.

The warmth of the weed had settled deep into my skin, making everything feel more alive, more intense. My senses were heightened, every little touch sending a thrill through me. I could feel his warmth, see every detail in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on his lips.

I shifted a little closer, feeling bolder, more curious. “So, are you going to let me in on more, or are you keeping all the secrets to yourself?” I teased, my voice a low murmur.

Chris’s mouth curved into a smirk as he looked at me, his gaze flicking to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “What else do you want to know?” His tone was smooth, with a hint of mischief that only drew me in more.

“Hmm” I said, leaning in a bit closer, my fingers lightly tracing the edge of his arm. “Maybe everything.”

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and I felt his fingers tighten slightly on my knee, the warmth of his touch spreading through me like a spark catching fire. His other hand reached up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering just a moment too long, his fingers trailing along my cheek. It was such a simple touch, but it felt electrifying, sending a pulse of warmth straight to my core.

“Careful” he murmured, his voice dropping low, almost a whisper, as his thumb brushed over my cheek. “You might get more than you’re bargaining for.”

I held his gaze, feeling the pull between us. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want” I replied softly, my voice steady but filled with a new intensity I hadn’t realised I had. I was aware of every inch of him, every movement, every breath.

He leaned in closer, so close that his breath brushed against my skin, and I felt my heart race, anticipation building between us. His hand moved up, fingers lightly tracing the side of my face, his touch soft but sure. I felt myself instinctively leaning into him, our faces inches apart, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

“I don’t think I can hold back much longer if you keep looking at me like that.” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” I whispered, a smile playing on my lips.

With that, the space between us disappeared, and his lips met mine in a kiss that was slow, warm, and filled with a fire that felt like it had been building for ages. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking into the kiss, feeling like I was falling and floating all at once.

The treehouse felt like it was spinning, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was this moment, this connection, as I kissed him back, letting the night and all my worries fade away.

Chris pulled back just slightly, his face close enough that our breaths mingled in the cool night air. His eyes searched mine, serious yet soft, as if he were weighing something deeply important. I could feel his hesitation, the way he was holding back despite everything between us.

He brushed his thumb along my cheek, his hand warm and steady. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to feel.. pushed or anything."

I looked up at him, my heart racing but my thoughts perfectly clear. He was giving me an out, a chance to step back, and I knew he’d respect it if I did. But there was no doubt in my mind. I wanted to be here, I wanted him. Every inch of him.,

"Chris" I said, my hand gently resting over his. "I’m sure. This is what I want."

He let out a slow breath, relief flickering across his face, and his shoulders relaxed as he held my gaze. The intensity between us deepened, something unspoken passing as he studied me, seeming to memorise every detail. His thumb traced a small circle on my cheek, a gesture that felt both grounding and electrifying.

"Good" he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Because I don't think I could pull away even if I tried."

I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for the first time, any lingering fear or hesitation melted away completely. I

"Then don't pull away" I whispered, smiling up at him, inviting him closer.

He closed the small distance between us again, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was deep, slow, and filled with everything unspoken between us.

The next thing I knew, I was on top of him.

a/n : everything is just going so well atm!!!

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo

[galaxy-fleur]

I hope more dad leon questions are ok?

something something that's been on my mind, what if remake leon (after reaching early 30s ) suggest his s/o that they have a baby but she is reluctant and unsure about it?

while leon is craving for normalcy and an escape and his emotion got the better of him but she's afraid of not being able to do it or whether she'd be a good mum and the like

Hmm, I don't think that would be a big issue, honestly? If we take that you two assumedly have been together for a while now, it's not like you feeling hesitant about it would make him feel upset or angry with you. Yes, Leon wants a simpler, cozier life (if we're talking about a scenario of him actually having the opportunity to do that). He wants that with you, though. You're a team, and your thoughts and desires are not any less valuable than his own. I'd even say that he tends to neglect his needs sometimes.

So I can see this going two ways.

He either backpedals on the whole idea once he sees you're a bit uncomfortable and doesn't bring it back up for a while because he doesn't want to make you feel pressured, or... you two have a more open conversation about the whole thing. Granted, the first option will probably lead to the second one eventually, but still.

Having kids is scary and a lot of work. No matter how you have children. He wouldn't want you to go through with something so life-changing if you're not completely sure and eager. And if you're not, that's fine, too. He's willing to wait. To talk about it more, lay out your options and take it one step at a time instead of just jumping into this idea.

And if you'll never feel ready? Well, you'll just have to adopt a puppy. Or so he jokes while pressing a kiss to your forehead. Or perhaps a parrot. A big one. He heard those are technically like toddlers that never grow up. A perfect option. Plus, Sherry would love that.

Point is, he wouldn't want you to feel nervous of disappointing him or holding him back just because you're not as on board with it as he is. He wants a family with you because he loves you. He wants a future with you, whatever that may look like. If you'll want kids one day? Just know he'll be ecstatic to hear that. And if you don't? That means you two will get more time to spend together, with no distractions getting in the way. He'd be a damn fool to complain about that.

Either way, he will remind you that you are not alone in this. If you are just worried about not being a great parent, he'll reassure you that he'll be right there with you, every step of the way. Though the joys and the hurdles, the wins and losses. He wants it all, not just the good stuff. So you have nothing to worry about.

Adoption is always an option, too. If you are someone who headcanons his backstory as him losing his parents at a young age, that'll just makes the whole idea that much more heartwarming to think about.

[mc-lukanette]

"I can't believe you," Marinette huffed, pouting and gently cleaning the dirt from Luka's arm.

He frowned sympathetically. "Marinette..."

She didn't respond, shaking with emotion on all the bruises and marks left on him. She knew it wasn't serious and it wasn't like it was his fault. She wasn't angry with him either, just confused.

Did all this really happen over pizza of all things?

She only really knew what he'd told her. Apparently, he'd been working at his part-time job and an adult thought they could just "take the pizza off his hands." Maybe they were in a bad mood, or they simply thought they could take advantage of a teenager, but Luka had gotten knocked off his bike and a scuffle ensued when he refused.

How adults were somehow less mature than half of the teenagers she knew, she had no idea.

Nevertheless, Luka was decently fit (he could lift an entire Marinette when ice skating and rode his bike around everywhere, after all) so he managed well enough, eventually ending up in Marinette's room. She'd forced him to sit on the chaise lounge despite his concerns about getting it dirty, his hoodie and jacket discarded so she could properly tend to him. His Jagged Stone t-shirt was sleeveless and allowed her easy access to his shoulders.

She glared, inspecting his arm once more to be certain it was clean, then got up and sat on his other side to inspect the opposite arm. Being clumsy, she'd gotten many injuries over the course of her life and thus was basically an expert at first aid. The fact that it was Luka she was tending to made her even more determined to do it right; she might've gotten a little lazy with it if she'd been doing it for herself.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I hate worrying you."

She shot him a look, but it crumbled at the sadness in his eyes. Sighing, she held his arm a little closer than necessary and retorted, "No, it's okay. I probably worry you all the time too." With a dramatic flair, she added, "So we're even."

He gave her that lopsided smile that always seemed reserved just for her, then let her continue in pleasant silence. Marinette, staring at his upper arm, noted that she'd never actually seen it before due to how often he wore hoodies and jackets. Just as she'd imagined, there was a bit of muscle there, and she wondered if she might've seen it if she'd gone below deck when she visited Juleka at the Liberty one night. Perhaps he would've been in his pajamas, and—

Marinette cleared her throat, forcing the thought out of her head. Catching his curious gaze, she hurried to say, "I-it's nothing. You're toned, that's all."

Her face flushed at the Freudian slip, but Luka took it in stride. With a tilt of his head, he asked playfully, "Because I like music?"

He'd known exactly what she meant, yet gave her an out. She squeezed her eyes shut, blushing deeper as her mind screamed, You're too good for me!

"Anyway," she carried on as casually as she could. She searched lower on his body and experimentally prodded at his ribcage, which she'd been planning on doing before but now served the purpose of an excuse not to make eye contact with him. "Does it hurt here?"

Bless him, he went along with it. "No."

She poked lower at his stomach. "Here?"

"No."

She peeked through the rips of his shirt just to be sure, but thankfully didn't see anything concerning. "What about over here?"

She gently pressed her fingers into his side and felt him tense, a startled hiss coming out of him. Carefully, she lifted his shirt and winced at the sight of the bruise forming there.

"Does it hurt normally?" she asked, trying to delicately feel around the bruise to confirm that nothing was actually damaged. Everything felt okay, but he took a sharp intake of breath like it wasn't. She looked up, surprised. "S-sorry! Was my hand cold?"

"Don't worry," he assured oddly quickly. His cheeks were a light shade of pink. "It's nice."

"Oh."

She turned to her phone briefly to text her parents about getting an ice pack from the freezer whenever they had a moment to spare, then set it aside to focus on Luka again. Figuring it was better than nothing, she kept his shirt raised and slid the back of her fingers along the bruising, appointing herself as a substitute for the time being. He shivered at the contact, but didn't complain.

They both weren't looking at each other now. She thought she'd gotten rid of her blush, but the mood in the room brought it back.

"Ah, so... were you that worried about your boss?" she asked, because the topic of the day appeared to be changing topics.

"Hm?"

She let the shirt fall, only supported by her fingers against his side, so she could grab his forearm and turn it over. Eyeing the place that'd clearly been scuffed when he caught himself against the pavement, she pointed out, "You could've handed the pizza over; it wouldn't have been that big of a deal." She paused, thinking it over. "Unless—maybe you were delivering to a really poor family? And that pizza was the only food they were going to get that day?"

It sounded like something Luka would do, so she was already worrying over the fictional financially-challenged family she'd just made up in her head.

He chuckled. "No, it wasn't like that. My boss was upset about me getting beat up, but they would've had to take it out of my paycheck if I didn't deliver anything."

"But was it worth it?" She tried not to sound like she was scolding him. "Are you saving up for something?"

He didn't respond right away and she dared a peek at his face. Though his head was turned away from her, she could almost see the debate going on in his head over whether or not he should say anything.

"Luka?" she called, wondering if this involved a surprise of some sort. "Is it about someone's birthday or something? I won't tell—"

"Next week," he finally answered. The idea of her getting the wrong impression must've stirred him into action.

She blinked. "What about next..."

She trailed off as it clicked. While she didn't have extensive knowledge of Luka's schedule, she did know that Luka hadn't had plans next week aside from one thing, as they'd chosen that week together because neither of them had plans otherwise. They'd set up a big day together to just have for themselves: a trip to the aquarium, going to the cinema for a movie, picking a random place they'd never been to eat, and so much more that she couldn't even remember in her state of shock.

"We promised to split the cost," Luka confirmed, aware that she'd already come to the correct conclusion. "I wanted to make sure I had as much as possible, just in case."

Her mouth dropped open, heart wrenching while simultaneously picking up in pace. He knew - must've known - that she wouldn't have cared if he came up a little short. She would've been more relieved that he'd avoided a physical confrontation.

But it'd been important to him to have money he could spend on her, on the two of them together. Perhaps it was just how he felt, or some standard he was holding himself to even if he wasn't aware of it.

Her hands shot up, one to grasp at the strap of his shirt closest to her and the other at his face to turn his head towards her.

"Ah." He grimaced. "You didn't do anything wrong, Marinette. I was the one who—"

She pulled him in and kissed him with a vengeance. She kissed him for all the kindness he'd given her, all the time they'd spent together, how utterly stupid he could be around her while thinking that it was normal, and also because she desperately, deeply wanted to. He stayed frozen the whole time, entirely unlike the calm, melodic movements everyone knew him for.

There was a loud "popping" noise when she broke away from him, out of breath and face feeling hot enough that she thought she might start sweating. Her grip on Luka's shirt had been so tight that her nails left tiny impressions in her palms as she let go, the wrinkled strap falling loosely off his shoulder.

Luka was wide-eyed, staring unblinkingly at her.

"D...don't do that ever again. You're too precious to me," she murmured, the situation slowly catching up with her. She had to metaphorically drag the embarrassment out from the back of her mind or risk being totally lost to the euphoria of kissing the boy she loved. The words may have left a vague implication that he belonged to her and she didn't want anyone so much as laying a hand on him, but she didn't take it back or clarify any further.

Barely remembering to breathe, she tore her attention from him to his lap. She could only hope that he wouldn't be upset in any way. "I-I should, um... check here too. Pull your pant legs up."

She reached a tender hand out to touch his thigh, but Luka's hand was suddenly on her wrist, keeping it in place. She jumped, initially anxious, but noticed that his grip wasn't so tight as to hurt her.

"You don't have to do that," he said. Given the situation, it sounded like an odd thing to say.

"W-what?"

She met his gaze, confused, and saw in his eyes that he wasn't the least bit upset. In fact, his eyes were gleaming, his body turning towards her and his face closing the distance she made. She watched with captivated eyes and he raised her hand up, kissing her palm where the impression of her nails had been.

Somehow, she heard his voice over the pounding in her ears, soft and loving as he whispered, "You already kissed me better."

In a perfect mirroring of what she'd done a few seconds ago, his other hand cupped her cheek and pulled her back in. It brought their lips together once again and she melted, needing no further explanation to understand. She leaned back intentionally to fall back on the chaise lounge and let him on top of her mid-kiss, not wanting to risk the tempting urge to climb onto his lap when his legs might be hurt.

She couldn't bring herself to care if her parents showed up right then with an ice pack. The tiny part of her mind that could focus on anything but the kiss was too busy planning out a few extra "events" for next week.