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i-cant-sing · 8 months ago

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Time Traveller au part 8

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 9 is here!

Everything around you warped as you jumped off the cliff. You closed your eyes as you heard Baldwin scream your name in agony, the air whipped around you and you hoped that you returned to your house, hopefully with a soft landing.

You fell onto the hard ground on your arm, breaking it. You screamed before biting your lip to hold it as you realised that you had landed... in a forest.

You pulled out your time machine and read the time and place.

1530. Ottoman empire.

Oh hell no-

You tried to change the time to return to your present world, but the dial buttons were broken and you couldnt do anything but hope it'll work again and return you back to your time.

Blinking away the tears, you clutched your arm and struggled to stand up, groaning in pain. The fall had knocked the air out of you, and made your entire body ache as you staggered towards a tree for support.

This has to be- Baldwin must've cursed me for leaving him.

Fixing your gown, you removed your wedding veil to make a hijab and used the length of it to cover your body like a chaddar. Clutching your broken arm, you began walking. Where? You dont know, but you need to get out of the forest first as you didnt pay much attention to "Man V/S Wild" because the first episode you watched started off with Bear Grylls drinking his own piss and you didnt think you'd ever be in a situation where you would need that kind of skills.

"And I wont." You huffed, walking. Besides, the wild isnt the only thing you need to survive. You're a lone woman in a forest where good samaritans arent the only ones to cross it. And you dont think you have a fighting chance against strangers with a broken limb.

The sun was starting set by the time you made it out of the forest and you saw a small cottage. If it wasnt for the old woman tending to her chickens outside, you wouldnt have approached her. But alas, thirst and exhaustion overtook stranger-danger and you walked upto her.

"W... water?" You croaked in Turkish, sweat dripping down your face as you clutched your arm. Yes, you learnt the language as a child when there was no cable and the only place you and your brother could watch TV was at your Turkish neighbours house. Granted, all they ever played was soap dramas, but hey- your family was poor and you had to make do.

The old lady's eyes widened at your state and she rushed inside to get water. By the time she came out with her husband, you had passed out.

When you came to, you were lying in bed while the couple fretted over you. It turned out that the old man used to be a physician, so he popped your broken arm back in place and immobilised it expertly so that it allows for optimal healing of the bone. The old lady made you some food and thats when they asked what happened.

"I fell from a tree." You took a bite of the warm meal. "I was hiding there from some slave owners. I lost my parents a few days ago and when they found out that I was alone... they wanted to take me and sell me to the palace." Lying isnt that hard for you when you have so many true events to back you up.

The old couple pitied you and offered you their home. "You could stay here for as long as you'd like. We dont mind. In fact, we'd enjoy the company." You smiled gratefully. As days passed, you began helping them around the house with chores. They were lonely and they enjoyed having you around. You found out that they used to have a daughter but she was one day taken by the Janissaries (members of the elite infantry units that formed the Ottoman Sultan's household troops) to make her part of the harem and they never got to see her again.

It had been a month since you'd been living here. Your machine hadnt worked again and you didnt have the tools at hand to start working on it. You did accompany the old man to the town when he'd go get groceries, but you didnt risk finding a scholar or craftman to help you. No, the moment your eyes landed on the Topkapi palace at the other side of town, you had turned on your heel and already started making your way back to the cottage. As tempting as it was to see just how the sultans were, you were not going to try your luck by being trapped in that castle that had weird politics. Everyone was everyone's enemy- the heirs, the wives, the concubines, the eunuchs- everyone.

You and the old man had just returned from the town and you were trying to calm him down. Apparently, he got into a heated argument with the shopkeeper who was quite influential and lent people money, but he asked for high interest rates on return.

"I'll help you. Maybe I can find some work-" you offered but the old man absolutely refused. He didnt want you to leaving the cottage, especially not alone to go work with these scummy people he did not trust.

You smiled sadly. Perhaps you reminded him of his daughter.

"He's always been like this, but when Ayla was taken, he started loathing the sultan. How can you just break a family like that?" The old lady said as she stirred the pot. You hummed as you set the table, when the old man suddenly burst through the door, looking alarmed.

"Dear? Whats wrong?" The old lady walked up to him. He was looking at you.

"Janissaries- they're here." He said with dread. "The merchant- he must've sent them here! Quick, hide Y/n!" The old lady nodded in agreement as they began pushing you. The old man lifted up a wooden panel from the floor, revealing a small compartment.

"Hide in there and dont make a sound!" They said as they covered the space back with the wooden panel. You held your breath as you peeked through the slits in between the panels.

Just a few moments later, 5 men in red uniforms and swords resting on their sides, brazenly walked in.

Janissaries.

"Where's the girl?" One of them asked as the others looked around.

"What girl?" The old man asked as he pulled his wife closer to him.

"Dont pretend you dont know. We saw you walking in the market with a girl. Where's she?"

"She left. Her parents took her back. What do you want from her?" The old man replied.

The Janissaries kept looking around, going through rooms to find you.

"You havent paid your loan back. We're just here to take her while you make arrangements for your loan."

"I told you she's gone. And I told the merchant I already paid off his loan. With interest."

"Yes, but the interest increased last week. You didnt pay that."

"What does it concern you? You work for the sultan, not the merchant!"

"The merchant is friends with me, a Janissarie. If he's bothered, then I'm bothered. And if I'm bothered, then so is the sultan. Now, hurry up and tell me where she is."

"She's gone-" the old man was cut off by a punch.

You gasped, but quickly covered your mouth as the Janissarie's head snapped in your direction. He couldnt see you, but you could see him.

The old lady was crying now as she tended to her husband on the ground. The Janissaire looked back at her.

"If you dont tell me where she is right now, you will become a widow." He threatened her.

The old lady couldnt say anything as she kept on crying, but she made the mistake of looking at the wooden panel you were hiding under. That was enough of for the armed men to figure out.

They pulled the panel away and there you were, looking up at them with fear. They didnt have to communicate as they pulled you out and threw you over his shoulder, making their way out to their horses.

The old couple begged them to not take you away, but despite your best efforts to break free, you never stood a chance.

"Let me go-" You were silenced with a hard slap. The Janissarie looked at you.

"I will only say this once. I am taking you to the palace. If you make a single sound, I will slit your throat right then and there. If you run, I will behave very badly with you. Nod if you understand."

Some time later, you had been dragged into the Topkapi Palace. The guards talked amongst themselves about you, as if you're deaf.

"We should just sell her to the slave traders." One said.

"Or we could give her to the merchant and he can pay us more than the slave traders." Another said.

"We'll see who will pay the higher price for her. After she spends the night with me." Your eyes almost popped out of your socket.

The creep laughed as he yanked you close by the wrist. "Maybe I'll keep you permanently, tied to my bed-"

Allah, now would be a great time for the time machine to work. I dont care if I disappear before their eyes, I cant stay here-

"Well well well, what do we have here?" The Janissaries all straightened up at the new voice. "Bothering another woman of the harem? After you were almost beheaded the last time you stared at one with your pig ugly eyes?"

"Baris Agha, she is not part of the harem-"

"She became property of the sultan the moment you brought her in the palace." The man snapped at them as he stepped in front of you. Judging from his clothes and his effeminate mannerisms, you figured he was a eunuch. "Lets take a look, hm?" He gripped your chin roughly and tilted your face from side to side, a grimace appearing on his face.

"Not pretty enough to be a concubine. Tch. Maid it is."

Bitch.

"Baris Agha, you cant just take her from us-"

"Need I remind you of the woman from the sultan's war winnings you lot lost because you were drunk? I see, I should go and remind sultan of that." At that, the Janissaries scowled but kept quiet.

"Now stop standing there like buffoons. Go to your posts. And you-" Baris Agha gave you a pointed look. "You dont look from around here, but I'm going to assume that since you havent screamed or tried to run off, you understand what I'm saying, hm?" You gave a nod. Baris Agha rolled his eyes before turning on his heel, beckoning you to follow him with his index finger. "Hurry along. We have to train you for the feast tonight. A few servants died of smallpox, so we're a little short staffed."

You were lead to a hamam (a common bath area). Baris Agha was talking to the old lady standing outside. "She is the new maid. Have her prepared for tonight, hm?" He told the lady who ushered you in.

Baris Agha waited outside the hamam as he heard you shriek and yell, but he was unfazed. Everytime a new girl is brought here, she has to go through the same thing. A hot ,steaming bath, an invasive medical check up, a little degradation, nothing out of the norm. It is necessary to do this because if you are to serve the royal family, it wont bode well for you to be carrying any diseases or... any pride.

"You're lucky I'm short on servants or else I would've thrown you into the sea because I would never wish anyone to see the gait of a cow." He scolded you during your "maid training".

You bit your lip to stop the curses from slipping. You cant risk pissing off anyone here until you can find a way out, or your machine works. You've read details about the life in Ottoman empire, and sure majority of them were muslims, but they still had egos as large as Mount Everest.

"Baris Agha! Baris Agha!' A servant came running upto him. "A fight broke out in the harem! The concubines- ah! Its a mess!" He flailed his hands around in exasperation.

Baris's eyes widened before scowling. "I'll kill them all today! I swear! These women are more trouble than they're worth for!" He grumbled before looking at you.

"Keep moping, I'll come back. Dont do anything stupid or I will make you dig your grave!" He threatened before leaving with the servant.

As soon as he was out of sight, you considered running. But you dont know your way around this maze of a palace, and you dont wish to run into Baris Agha when you're trying to find your way out of these hallways. You need to be careful and find a way out. So, you slowly made your way towards the other end of the corridor while mopping (as an excuse when Baris returns and asks where'd you go) and peeked around the corners. When you found no one, you slowly walked down one end of the hall where you saw a door at the end while the right side of the hall overlooked the palace grounds and the other side of the hall had no doors but had these wooden windows that were shut so you couldnt see through them. You reached the door and opened it slowly, expecting another hallway, but instead you were in a room. Not exactly a bedroom, since you didnt spot a bed, but perhaps a sitting room? Or maybe a study room, judging from the desk in the corner. In the center of the room, there was a huge pile covered by a purple silk cloth. This couldnt possibly be a storage room, right? You walked upto the pile and pulled the cloth off it, revealing an amalgam of... fine things. There were fancy vases, some antiques, swords and a few paintings.

The paintings were stacked one upon the other, and you took a look at the first one- it was Arabic calligraphy. The background was beige with the calligraphy in beautiful black ink. And you recognised the words written. Its Ayat ul Kursi, from Surah Baqrah in Quran. The words were written so elegantly, however as you read the verse, you spotted an error. It was a minor one, but there was a dot missing from one of the letters and now it would be misspelled and the words wont make sense.

You could just walk away. You should walk away. Find a way out. This is not your mess. And this should not bother you.

"If you see something wrong, then you should do everything in your abilities to correct it. Don't be selfish, Y/n." Your brother's voice rung in your ears.

With a sigh, you walked towards the desk and picked up the the quill pen dipped in ink.

I'm only doing this because this painting may one day be passed onto the future generations. Cant have them making the same mistakes. You walked back to the painting. This is the word of Allah. I cant just ignore the mistake.

You placed the 3 foot canvas on the desk and carefully placed the dot to correct the mistake. You held your breath the entire time to prevent your hand from shaking. When you were done, you breathed and backed away.

"What are you doing?" You froze. This- this is not Baris Agha's voice. No, it- it held too much authority.

"I asked you- what are you doing?!" The voice boomed.

"I- I-"

"Turn around." You slowly did and you looked at the man in dark robes in front of you. He was neither a servant, nor a Janissaries. You looked at the fury in his grey eyes, and then your eyes travelled upto his head.

You dropped into a bow, head low.

"I- I apologise, sultan!" Of fucking course! Why wouldnt a sultan- THE SULTAN SULEIMAN, be the one to catch you in the act.

This is it. This is the day I die. He will have my head cut off-

"I asked you, what are you doing?" He asked again. "Who are you?"

"I- I was... I was fixing an error, your majesty." You gulped, head still down. "I am- I am a new servant, sultan. I- I did not know this was your room- I was- I got lost-"

"What mistake?" He cut you off. "Rise. And show me the mistake."

You slowly rose up, though you kept your eyes casted down. You turned back to the painting as he walked up next to you, and you raised your shaking hand to point the area where the ink was still wet.

"The... the dot was missing from this letter. It was spelling mistake. I... I couldnt just leave it... in good conscience." You explained in a small voice.

There was complete silence for the next few minutes. Is this the part where you should start begging him to spare your life? Or should you keep your mouth shut and hope he gives you a less painful punishment?

"Bring the next painting." He commanded without taking his eyes off the current one. You picked up the next canvas and it also had Arabic calligraphy. With his permission, you placed it on the desk as well.

"Well?" He looked at you and you stared back at his grey eyes in confusion. "Check for errors."

You looked back at the painting, another Quranic verse from Surah Rahman. And you spotted the error right away. Again a small mistake, but still if the diacritical marks are not present, then the pronunciation will be wrong.

"Here. And here as well." You pointed out with your finger. He nodded at you to fix it. This time it was much harder for you to stop your hand from shaking, but fortunately, you did.

"Now recite it." You looked at him in surprise. Recite it? You cant stop your hand from shaking with him looking at you and he expects you to recite it out loud in front of him?!

What kind of test is this? And if I mess up, will he have me killed? Oh God, he's going to kill me.

Closing your eyes to stop the tears from spilling, you began to recite Surah Rahman.

Just pretend he's not here, pretend your brother is in front of you and you're reciting Quran to him like you did as kids. Its normal, its just you and Qasim. You and your brother.

You opened your eyes when you were finished. Suleiman was looking at you... shocked.

"That was... my goodness. That was mesmerising." The sultan praised you once he overcame his shock. "And you recited it all from memory. Are you a hafidha?" (someone who has memorised the Quran)

You nodded. The sultan looked even more surprise. He's never heard of women memorising the Quran in his lifetime, and you? You look so young, just in your 20s. Did you really learn the Quran with such perfect recitation?

"How? Who was your teacher?"

"My brother." Which was true. Qasim, your older brother memorised the Quran when he was very young. Your parents sent him to the local mosque to learn and since he was blessed with eidetic memory, things werent hard for him.

You, on the other hand, were not blessed with photographic memory. You werent gifted like Qasim, and since he's always been the shining star, the all rounder, he was your competitor by nature. So while your parents didnt send you to the local mosque to memorise Quran because you're "too young", you made Qasim teach it to you.

He was more than happy to. Qasim, just like his name, was always the "generous one". The one who shares. He's the older brother, the provider. You're the younger sister, the competitive brat. Together, you two made a great duo. Qasim's recitation was far better than yours. His voice brought comfort to the soul.

Once you were able to memorise Quran, you and Qasim would often participate in those Islamic trivia and competitions which would often have some cash prize at the end. And since money was tight at home, you'd both participate and win many such prizes.

"And where's your brother?" "Dead. My family is dead." Well its not like he can go and confirm your story. "I was brought here by the Janisarries. They planned to sell me to slave traders. Then Baris Agha came and made me a servant, saying I belong to the sultan now. He gave me a mop and I was cleaning and then I found my way here..." You explained your situation further, hoping he'd take pity and let you go.

"What's your name?" The sultan asked very calmly.

"... Y/n."

"Y/n." He tested the name. "How would you like a job?"

"I- I'm not a good servant, ask Baris Agha. He'll testify-"

"Not as a maid. As a... teacher."

"Teacher?"

"Mhm. Quran teacher. Teach my daughter Mihirmah how to recite, if not memorise it as well as you, hm?"

"I-" you paused. You need to word this out carefully. "I'm honoured that you considered me for this position, your majesty, but surely, there might be someone else more suitable for this job."

He shook his head. "They're all men. I think if my daughter could have you as a role model, she might be inspired to learn."

"I... I have to go home-"

"Home? To who? You have no family." Of course, your lie backfires.

Seeing your hesitance, he sighs. "Look, you're not a slave here, Y/n. No Muslim in my empire is, so I wont force you to stay here but I think it would be safer for you. A young girl in her prime, living alone in this harsh world- you know just as well of the dangers. Today my Janissaries brought you here, and I will deal with them. But tomorrow, someone else might take advantage of the fact that you have no one to rely on."

You remained silent. He was... right. But-

"If you were to stay here and be Mihirmah's teacher, then I give you my word- no harm shall befall you. You will be under my protection."

Your time machine hasnt shown any signs of working yet, and you dont think you can stay hidden in this empire and avoid people for long, so-

"I accept."

Suleiman smiled. "Good. I think the ink is dry now. Place them back with the pile." You picked up the canvases and brought them back to his collection. As you were placing them down, you noticed the canvas on the bottom, the one you never picked up.

Your face paled.

"Sultana, please focus-" you were trying to get the young princess's attention, which you now realise was a feat in itself and exactly why Sultan Suleiman asked you to teach her.

"No." Mihirmah said. You took a deep breath. She has no interest in reading the Quran, how are you supposed to make her learn a few verses?

She was the Sultan's only daughter, so she was spoiled to the core. Just 19 years old, with high cheek bones, blemish free skin, her ash brown hair that shone, she was the epitome of beauty and the apple of her father's eye. You'd just love to yank her by the hair or smack her with a ruler to make her focus but you also would like to get out of here alive.

"You shouldn't use violence when it comes to Islam. It'll only drive the believers away." You heard Qasim's voice in the back of your head. "I never had to discipline you with hand to make you memorise. If I can teach you, then so can you." He had a warm smile on his face.

But I'm not you, Qasim. I dont have the patience of a saint.

"Alright, sultana." You closed the Quran with a sigh and clasped your hands. "What do you want to do?"

Mihirmah grinned, feeling victorious over you giving up so quickly. "I want you to tell my father that I gave my best in trying to learn this but you dont have the time or skill to teach me. Tell him that you think it might be best for me to take break from learning Quran so that I can regain my focus." She said as she crossed her arms over chest.

"No."

Her smile faltered. "No?"

"No." You confirmed, staring at her dead serious. "I do have the time and skill to teach you the Quran. Why should I lie about myself for your incompetency?"

Her eyes widened before narrowing. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" You asked, collecting your things. "I am not your slave or servant to order around. Your father, the sultan, hired me for a job. I'm the teacher, you're the student and at this moment, I have authority over you."

You stood up and looked down at her with no expression. "I was told the young princess was fearless and as strong as her brothers. I now see they were wrong. If you dont wish to learn, then have the guts to tell your father."

As you turned around to leave, you were immediately thrown against the wall, making you bang your head against it. Enough. You're done playing nice.

Sorry Qasim, but some people need violence-

You were turned around and slammed against the wall. You were about to yell at her when you felt something sharp press against your throat.

Mihirmah's eyes were full of fury. "You do not get to talk to me that way-!" "Is that an Omani khanjar?" You looked at her silver dagger.

Mihirmah's rage was replaced by surprise. "You... you know about it?"

You scoffed, insulted. "I'd be a fool not to notice it."

She titled her head at you, an amusing glint in her eyes.

"Oh my- you even have the pugio! How did you get it?" You were in complete awe at Mihirmah's large collection of daggers and swords.

Mihirmah beamed. "My brother got it for me on his recent conquest. He got so much stuff in the war prize for dad, but they let me pick first. Mustafa had brought dad some antiques, gems, paintings-" your heart sank at her words.

So that painting... it was from the spoils of war?

The painting that you saw earlier when you were putting back the canvases- it was a portrait. Of you. The same portrait that Baldwin had commissioned for you. The painting that survived over 400 years, except for the lower part of your face that was smudged and faded.

Suleiman looked over your shoulder as you stared at the portrait. "Mustafa found this in a church during the war. The locals claimed that the portrait belonged to some king who lost the love of his life. Hm. Seems like he missed her too much." He explained, tracing his fingers over the smudged area of the painting, and you wondered what Baldwin had done to make the area so faded.

You were glad that you had drawn your chaddar over your head and kept your face down or else you're almost certain the sultan would've recognised the resemblance between you and the portrait. After you'd left him, you immediately decided to wear a niqaab and cover your face to prevent anyone from recognising you as the muse from the painting.

"Y/n." You were snapped out of your thoughts. Mihirmah raised a brow at you. "So... how do you know about the daggers? You dont look like... well, you know."

Should you even be surprised at how condescending she is? Mihirmah may be the sultan's only daughter, but you were also the only daughter AND the youngest child of your family.

You can be just as bitchy.

"What? Just because I'm not a princess, I cant know about daggers?" You scoffed, looking back at her collection on the table.

Mihirmah's lips quirked. "Well, how do you know then?"

My cousin took me to the forensic musuem at his medical college and I was so mesmerised by all the murder weapons there, including the daggers, that I spent an embarrassing amount of time researching about each type of blade which was interesting for me because I am a historian.

"My dad was a blacksmith." He was not. Your father was a pharmacist. "I used to watch him make different types of blades and swords. Travellers would often stop by and let him sharpen their blades, and thats how I know about different kinds of blades."

She nodded, satisfied with your explanation. "You know your blades... but do you know how to fight with them?"

"No, sultana. I am just a lowly peasant who does not have to face the troubles of warding off potential suitors and princes like you." Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

When she didnt reply, you looked up at her and saw the evil glint in her eyes.

"What?"

Her smile widened. "I have a proposal that would benefit the both of us."

You stared at her in confusion for a few moments before understanding what she meant.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No-"

You were flipped onto the carpeted ground with Mihirma pinning your arms with her knees, pressing the dagger against your neck.

"Anddddd you're dead." She smiled victoriously above you before getting off you and helping you up. You coughed to catch your breath and scowled at her. "I should tell the sultan about how you beat up your teacher."

Mihirmah chuckled. "I am not beating you up. I am teaching you how to fight, and dad would approve that I teach a young women how to defend herself." "But I dont want to learn how to fight." "And I dont want to learn Quran. But if I have to do that, then you can at least do this so that you know just how difficult it is for me to learn the verses."

You adjusted your veil and glared at her. "Cant you find someone else to be your sparring buddy?"

"No. I like you. You dont seem to be too afraid of me and you stand your ground." She admitted before looking at you fussing over your niqaab. "You know you can take that off around me? People dont burst into my room without knocking, so feel free to take that off."

You contemplate for a moment. It is a little hot in here, and you're sweating like a pig after that knock down.

You remove your veil, but keep the scarf over your head and take a seat. You felt her eyes on you, but you didnt look at her as you opened the Quran.

"What are you staring at?"

Mihirmah sat down beside you as you finally looked at the gleam in her eyes. "What?" You asked again.

"Nothing. I just thought you'd be... prettier."

You couldn't help the sound of disbelief that left from your lips.

This cun-

"Well, I'm so sorry sultana that you had to witness the ugliness of my face with your precious eyes that are only worthy of seeing pretty things. My sultana, just say the word and I'd sew pearls into my skin for your pleasure, or I could always just-" you pick up your veil to cover your face again, but Mihirmah's hand caught your wrist and she was giggling.

"You're easy to tick off." She chuckled. "I was only kidding. You look... alright."

You feigned a smile. "Well, how will I ever repay that priceless compliment?" You rolled your eyes as she laughed again.

"Now that we're done with your entertainment, lets start our lesson for today."

Its been a week since you arrived in Topkapi palace. You had been given a room in the harem with the concubines because- well they didnt have quarters for religion teachers, so here you were.

The room was small but adequate for you. Nothing fancy but you're grateful for that. Dont want these concubines seeing you as a threat or something.

You groaned as the servant kneaded your shoulders. You were currently getting a massage from a girl you had befriended. Your muscles were sore from the all the times Mihirmah had flipped you over or slammed you against the wall. You were sure you were gonna have numerous bruises by the time she memorised one surah.

Your deep tissue massage was interrupted by Baris Agha bursting through your door. He shot you a glare before pushing the girl away from you.

"If your majesty is done with her rub down, would you care to grace us with your mighty presence?" He mocked. You opened your eyes and sighed.

"Hello to you too, Baris Agha." You sat up. "What do you want?"

"The sultana has demanded your presence."

"I already gave the sultana her lesson today." You mumbled before going to lie back down but Baris Agha grabbed your shoulder painfully to haul you up.

"That was Mihirmah sultana. Your presence is required by her mother, Hurrem sultana!" He gritted out.

Hurrem sultana? "Why?" You asked, fixing your niqaab over your face.

"Why? Why? Who do you think you're to be asking questions? Make haste!" He yelled at you before pushing you out of the room.

You followed behind him as he told you how to courtesy in front of her and not to do this or that, but you were focused on why you'd been called by the sultana? And that too, at dinner time? Wouldnt she be busy with her family?

Finally, you reached her chambers. Baris Agha entered first and you followed closely behind him, falling into a deep courtesy right after him.

"My Sultana, this is Hatun (lady) Y/n, Mihirmah's sultana's teacher." Baris Agha introduced you.

"Rise." You heard her say and you dared to peek at her and your breath was caught.

If Mihirmah was the epitome of beauty, then Hurrem sultana was something entirely out of this world. Red hair that sat in a intricate bun atop with a crown, milky white skin that had no marks, and those radiant green eyes that shone just as bright as the iconic emerald ring on her finger.

If you didnt know the dates, you wouldnt have guessed her to be a day over 40. But she was well in her 50s, and Allah... were you envious of Turkish beauty.

Truly, this was not a place for an insecure person to be around. You probably did stick out like a sore thumb among the bewitching beauties.

Baris Agha elbowed you to make you avert your gaze, and thats when you spotted Mihirmah sitting beside her looking sheepish.

"So, you've been the one who Mihirmah has been spending so much time with?" She looked at you pointedly.

So much time?

You looked at Mihirmah who was avoiding your gaze. You looked back at the sultana. "Well? Tell me how much my daughter has learned?"

How much? She hasnt been able to memorise a single surah.

You cleared your throat and spoke carefully. "Sultana, its a gradual process-"

"Surely, she must've memorised something? After all, thats why she's been refusing to spend time embroidering or looking at her proposals."

"Mom-" Mihirmah tried but was silenced by a look from her mother.

Hurrem looked back at you. "So, Hatun Y/n, do you have something to say? Or has my daughter been lying to me about spending time with you?"

You looked at Mihirmah who was looking at you with pleading eyes and you connected the dots. Mihirmah has lied to her mother about spending her time with you, and now wants you to lie for her as well.

If you do, Mihirmah might be safe but you risk getting caught. If you dont lie, Mihirmah gets in trouble, but so will you. And not just at Mihirmah's hands, because she will hurt you for snitching, but you suspect that she will twist more lies and lead you into more trouble with both her mother and father.

What to do?

"Mihirmah sultana is... a good student. The best one I've had so far." Well, you werent lying. She was your first student so technically she had no competition. "Everyone has a different pace of learning, my sultana. But its not about how fast you learn, its how much you learn. I'd prefer to take years to learn the surahs over not understanding the meaning behind them, the lessons hidden in them."

Yes, this is a safe answer. "Mihirmah sultana has shown great interest in reading the Quran. She listens very attentively to the translations." After bribing her with duels.

"I have no doubt that she will one day be a good Quran student. As long as she never stops reading it, maintains her connection with the Holy Book and Allah. The process of learning never ends."

Hurrem's calculated eyes read you. She gave a single nod. "Very well, Hatun Y/n. If you say so." Ah finally. Disaster avoided, and now Mihirmah owes me for lying-

"Mihirmah, you will recite the surah Hatun Y/n taught you tomorrow at dinner. Your father and I will be very pleased with your progress." Hurrem stated, making both your and Mihirmah's eyes widen because her mother knows her daughter well. She knows Mihirmah is not prepared and challenged her like this so that she can get rid of you as well, allowing the queen to focus on finding a suitable proposal for her daughter.

"Mother-"

"Mihirmah, go and sleep now. I dont think you need to prepare anymore for tomorrow, as you have told me just how great of teacher Hatun Y/n is." Hurrem smiled cunningly. Of course, she'd lay traps for her own daughter if it meant she could prove a point.

You and Mihirmah left the sultana's chambers together before walking to the princess's chambers.

"Thank you, Y/n for saving me!" Mihirmah said as soon as you two entered her room. She turned around to look at you, only to find you out on her balcony.

"Y/n? What are you doing there?" She walked up behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. "Hm? Oh, I'm just thinking if I should jump to my death from here or ask Baris Agha to get me poison. What do you suggest?"

"Y/n!" She pulled you away from the balcony. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Whats wrong with you?!" You yanked your arm out of her grip. "Why did you lie to Hurrem sultana that you've been spending day and night studying with me when you damn well know that you have the attention span of a fish?!"

Mihirmah pouted. "Well, I had to come up with an excuse as to why I didnt want to do needle work or look at suitors... how was I supposed to know she'd bring you in for questioning?"

Narrowing your eyes at her, you gritted out. "You should've just told her that you'd rather spend the time beating up servants and throwing knives at pillows for target practise!"

She crossed her arms and huffed. "What, are you mad at me?"

You chuckled humourlessly. "Oh no. No no- how dare I? Why would I be mad at you for being the reason your parents will send me to the gallows? Or would they rather chop off my head?"

She shook her head. "No, I wont.... I wont let them do that." Mihirmah sighed. "I'll tell them the truth tomorrow, come clean."

"Oh great. So then you'll be safe from trouble but I'll still be dead because I LIED to the sultana! Thanks a lot!" You exclaimed.

"Well, then what do you suggest we do?!" Mihirmah was getting short tempered now.

You dragged your hands over your cheeks before heaving a sigh. "The only thing we can do. Make you memorise a surah." You held up a hand before Mihirmah could speak. "I'm not kidding. And... I have a plan. Just... you'll need to stay awake the entire night."

"Mihirmah- Mihirmah, wake up." You nudge the sleeping princess, awake. Its been 7 hours into your all nighter and Mihirmah's been asleep for 2 of them. You heard her groan from her position, head resting on the table.

"Mihirmah!" You called her harshly, shaking her shoulder. She smacked your hand away and continued to rest.

Thats it, I'm going to yank your hair-

The door opened making you turn. A young man was standing there, his eyes landing on Mihirmah and then at you.

"Mihirmah?" He called her name gently, but the girl who you'd been expecting to be dead asleep suddenly jumped up at his voice.

"Mehmed?!" Her eyes sparkled before getting up and jumping into his arms, just as you turned your head away and picked up your veil to wear.

Sehzade (prince) Mehmed, second son of Sultan Suleiman, first son of Hurrem. The 24 year old prince hugged his sister and spun her around, the two siblings laughing. Though you already know of his fate- the prince will die young. He will not inherit the throne.

"When did you come back from Manisa?!" Mihirmah asked him.

He pecked her forehead. "Just now. I made my way straight here and I was expecting you to be asleep, but.... what exactly is it that you're doing?" Mehmed asked, and Mihirmah followed his gaze to you.

"Ah. This is Y/n, she's my Quran teacher. I have to memorise a surah and recite it at dinner." She explained.

He raised a brow. "Since when did you have such an interest? Let me guess- father?" She scrunched her nose and nodded. "Forget about that, tell me about your adventures! Come on-" You cleared your throat loudly, making both siblings look at you.

"What?" Mihirmah asked.

"Sultana, we still have to prepare for tonight." You said as gently as you could without popping a vessel in your head.

Mihirmah waved you off. "No need! I've already memorised the surah! I'm all prepared-"

"Sultana." You cut her off. "Memorising is one thing... reciting it properly is another. Your parents will be expecting perfection which-with all due respect, you are nowhere near it."

There was deafening silence in the room as you and Mihirmah stared each other down, neither woman backing away.

"Y/n, I said I'm done for tonight. That means, I. Am. Done." Mihirmah emphasised.

"I'm the teacher and I took responsibility over this matter in front of the Sultan and Sultana. I decide when you. Are. Done." You replied back in the same tone, hands folded in front of you.

I am not letting a spoiled brat ruin my life.

Mehmed looked at the two of you, confusion clouding his mind. Mihirmah doesnt let anyone talk to her this way and get away with it. Usually by now, you wouldve been thrown into the dungeons for torture. He knows his sister and her crazy tendencies, so he doesnt understand why she's putting up with this.

There is something deeper going on here.

"Both of you, stand down." You both broke off the intense stare off and looked at Mehmed. Clasping Mihirmah's hand, he pulled her to the ottomans and sat down beside her, gesturing you to sit down on the floor pillow.

"Now, tell me what is going on?"

After explaining the mess Mihirmah had dragged you two in, Mehmed hummed.

"Mihirmah." He looked at his sister. "It doesnt matter if Y/n told the truth or the lie to mom, she'd be in trouble either way. But there is only one way you wont be in trouble, and that is to pass this test. Prove mom wrong. You can do it- hey, look at me." He cupped Mihirmah's cheeks. "I know you can do it. And to show you my support, I will stay by your side the entire time. Now, lets practice, hm?"

You and Mehmed left Mihirmah's room at 8 in the morning, letting her to catch some shut eye.

You mutely yawned under your niqaab, though your back wasnt as silent when you cracked it. You heard Mehmed chuckle behind you, and you quickly composed yourself.

"My sister wore you out, huh?" He had a tired smile on his lips, eyes drooping but still a glint of amusement.

"Of course not, sehzade." You noticed the small cut on the outer end of his left brow. He had ash brown hair, similar to Mihirmah's. If you didnt know better, you'd think the two were twins with how much they resembled. Thick lips, strong nose, high cheek bones.

"You shouldn't lie to a prince, you know?" He rubbed his eyes. "Mihirmah... she is a little-" Annoying? Bitchy? Selfish? "-headstrong, but she's always been this way. Dont take it to heart. She is a good person, you just need to be patient with her."

You stayed quiet as he spoke. What could you really say? Ah no, your sister is actually just a spoiled brat and needs a kicking down?

"Mihirmah likes you, Y/n. It is a lot to ask but... I would appreciate it if you would continue to have her back."

"As you wish, sehzade."

Mehmet gave you one last smile before leaving. "Get some sleep, Y/n."

You turned around and started making your way back towards the harem to your chambers, your mind occupied by the thoughts of the painting Baldwin had made.

I need to destroy it. You decided. If it has survived 400 years, it might survive another 400, and I dont want to take the risk of it appearing in a museum one day.

You're walking down the hall, trying to remember which room it was you had found the paintings in when suddenly you're yanked to a corner.

"hey-!"You're silenced by a hand covering your mouth. A woman was holding you.

"Shh. Its fine. I just want to talk." She pulled her hand away, making you take a huge gulp of air. "What? You cant say hello like a normal person?" You spat at her. She narrowed her eyes at you. "Watch your tone. I'm Gul, the sultana's lady-in-waiting." Or just personal servant. You thought. Wait, sultana?

"Hurrem sultana-" "No, Mahidevran sultana, the first wife of Sultan Suleiman and the one you should always obey and respect. Now come along, she wishes to talk to you." She began pulling you down the corridor.

"Talk to me about what?" She didnt answer you.

Mahidevran sultana, the first wife of the sultan who eventually fells out of his favour when Hurrem arrives. She was able to give birth to one son- sehzade Mustafa, the eldest heir of the sultan, who will also not inherit the throne and will be executed on the orders of his father.

You can only guess how protective Mahidevran would be of both her son and the throne, seeing as she only has one child compared to Hurrem sultana's five, four of which are male heirs. And she has every reason to be threatened too because Hurrem has done what has never been done before.

Hurrem sultana was a non muslim woman captured from Crimea, sold as a slave in Constantinople, became a concubine in the harem and slowly rose to the ranks to be Suleiman's favourite, and later, become his legal wife. She bore majority of his sons, and broke the traditional rule of. "one imperial concubine - one son", was beaten up by Mahidevran which angered Suleiman, earned the title of Haseki Sultana (which means "favourite") and it shocked everyone because never before was a slave elevated to the level of becoming the legal wife of the sultan.

Hurrem sultana was force to be reckoned with. And as history shows, Hurrem would be the victorious one.

Finally reaching the sultana's chambers, you were pushed in by Gul. You immeadiately fell into a courtesy, not wanting to anger the sultana.

"So... who exactly are you?" You looked up, brows knitting in confusion at her question. Mahidevran was sitting on her ottoman, her face expressionless as she stared you down. She was beautiful, her features sharp and slim, collar bones prominent along with her long neck, she looked like a supermodel. But... Hurrem was prettier.

"I- I'm Y/n." You answered her, but she didnt look satisfied. "What is your relation with Hurrem? Are you sleeping with her son, Mehmed?"

"I- I beg your pardon?" You stammered. She stood up and strode to you, making you back up.

"Do not lie to me, girl. My servants saw you entering Hurrem's chambers yesterday, and leaving with Mehmed today."

"Its not what it looks like, sultana." You shook your head. "I am not a concubine and I am not sleeping with anyone! Sultan Suleiman hired me to teach Mihirmah sultana Quran."

"That doesnt explain why you were with Hurrem or Mehmed."

"Hurrem sultana wanted to know how far her daughter has progressed in her lessons and asked Mihirmah to recite a surah at dinner to prove that she's been studying. Sehzade Mehmed and I were with Mihirmah sultana all night helping her prepare for tonight." You explained the situation and Mahidevran stared at you with no expression. For a moment, you thought she didnt believe you but then her lips quirked up.

"Dinner, you say?" You gave a hesitant nod. "Very well, off you go."

As soon as you were out of the room, you leaned against the wall and placed a hand over your chest, feeling your rapidly beating heart. Mahidevran may not be as pretty as Hurrem, but she was definitely scarier. You really did think she was going to torture you.

Weakly, you began walking again. You want to go back to your room and sleep off the headache that was forming, but you still have the stupid portrait to destroy.

Where the hell was that stupid room?

After an hour or so of roaming around and avoiding Baris Agha because you dont have it in you to put up with insults, you finally found the room. You softly knocked on the door first, checking if the sultan or someone else was in the room. When no one answered, you slowly opened the door and looked around. No one was there.

You walked inside and spotted the pile still there, and when you removed the silk off it, everything was still there- untouched, including your portrait.

"What are you doing?"

Second time. You've been caught in here for the second time.

Baldwin has to have cast a curse on you. There is no other explanation for such badluck.

You turned around, praying it was Baris Agha or anyone else, just not the sultan.

As soon as you spotted the royal turban, you could hear Baldwin laughing in the back of your head.

You bowed. "Sehazade- I-"

He looked older than Mehmed, so your best guess was that this was Mustafa.

"I asked, what you were doing with my war loot?" So, it is Mustafa. Mihirmah did say he went on a conquest recently.

"I was-" you cleared your throat. "I was merely admiring the calligraphy."

He tilted his head to look behind you. "There's no calligraphy on the portrait."

"I was admiring... the portrait."

"Were you planning on stealing it?"

"What? No." You peered at him through your niqaab. "It would not be the brightest idea to steal a large canvas and walk through the palace that is littered with guards."

He hummed. "You could go out the window."

"And ruin the painting or risk breaking my legs?"

"Huh. So what do you think would be the best way to steal this painting?" What kind of trick question is this?

"Not that I am stealing it, but if I were to- I'd most likely remove it from the canvas and roll it up, tuck it under my dress or hide it somewhere else and then leave with it. Or maybe pass it to another person, to make myself less suspicious."

"For someone who claims they're not stealing it, that does sound like you put a lot of thought in it." Mustafa admitted.

You frowned. "I was just pointing out the obvious. As I said, I am not a thief!"

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Y/n, Mihirmah sultana's Quran teacher-" He chuckled. "Sure, that's believable."

"Its true."

"You expect me to believe Mihirmah, my little sister who would much rather spend her days skinning someone, is learning Quran?" He smiled, making dimples appear on his cheeks.

"Its not by choice. Sultan Suleiman hired me." He stopped smiling.

"The Sultan... hired you?" Mustafa asked. What- why would his father hire you? You're just a young girl, almost the same age as Mihirmah.

"You can ask him if you dont believe me." You were tired of being insulted. What, does he think you're not smart enough to teach someone? Or just plain ole ugly?

"I-"

"Y/n! Ugh! There you are!" Baris Agha voice cut through, and as soon as he spotted Mustafa, he bowed, but you saw the momentary glance of confusion of why you were with him.

"Sehzade." Baris greeted him. Mustafa acknowledged him with a single nod. "Please excuse me, but I must take Hatun Y/n. Mihirmah sultana has demanded her presence."

Mustafa nodded again, letting Baris Agha drag you out by the arm. He looked at you trying to free your arm from his painful grip while Baris chewed your ear out. Mustafa shook his head before turning around to look at the portrait you were "admiring".

It is... something.

By dinner time, your head was pounding to the point you thought someone was hammering a nail in your head. Instead of spending the rest of the day catching some sleep, Mihirmah had demanded you help her dress "modestly" for her Quran recitation tonight. She wanted a look that really captured her "angelic and spirutal" personality.

You were sure your eyes were blood shot, from the lack of sleep. You didnt eat anything since yesterday, because you were almost constantly with royalty and God forbid you ate with them. No, they're "superior" and you dont deserve to eat or take care of yourself unless they allow you to.

"How do I look?" Mihirmah asked you. You were standing outside the royal dining room, where she would first go and have dinner with her family before showing what she's learnt so far.

"Like you just returned from Hajj pilgrimage." You rolled your eyes. She shot you a glare. "You look fine, Mihirmah. Just... stay calm and remember what I've taught you. You got this." She nodded before entering the room where her family awaited her.

You leaned against the wall and sighed, about to close your eyes to take a power nap when Baris Agha nudged you.

"Wake up! Sultana and sehzade are here." He whispered harshly, just as you spotted Mahidevran and Mustafa walking down the hall. You and Baris bowed with the guards.

"Sultana. Sehzade." Baris greeted them sweetly. "The dining hall is currently occupied. Sultan Suleiman is having dinner with his family."

"And what are we, Baris?" Mahidevran snapped, making Baris's courteous smile falter. "I am his first wife, Mustafa- his first son. We have more right to be here than Hurrem and her kids."

"Sultana-" Baris tried to persuade her but she beat him to it by walking past and knocking on the door.

"Enter!" Suleiman called from inside. The servants opened the door, allowing Mahidevran and Mustafa inside.

They bowed to Suleiman. "I hope we're not interrupting, sultan. We just heard that our dear Mihirmah would be reading Quran today and I just couldnt stop myself from coming. I just want to witness our little Mihirmah becoming so connected with her religion, perhaps even inspire me." She smiled widely, placing a hand on Mustafa's back. "I brought her elder brother to show our support. May we join you, sultan?"

Suleiman stared at them before nodding. "Of course, Mahidevran. We're all family here."

Mahidevran couldnt help the smirk that formed on her lips as she saw the pissed off look on Hurrem's face and the alarmed one Mihirmah's. While Hurrem did hope to teach a lesson to her daughter to not lie to her, she wouldnt want to do it by embarrassing her in front of Mahidevran.

The doors closed and their dinner began. You leaned against the wall again to rest your eyes but of course, Baris Agha had to mutter incoherently about the whole situation.

"Allah! Allah! What are we going to do? This might as well be the start of another war inside! Hurrem sultana and Mahidevran sultana head-to-head again-" He elbowed you hard, making you yelp. "Did you tell Mahidevran to come here?! I swear, I will yank your tongue out and strangle you with it."

"Baris Agha, at this rate, I'll be the one to strangle you if you touch me one more time." You threatened, shoving him away roughly.

"You little-" The doors opened again, a servant walked out.

"Hatun Y/n. Sultan has summoned you."

You walked inside, courtesying to the royal family.

Suleiman had this gentle look in his eyes. "Ah. This is Y/n, the teacher I hired for Mihirmah." He introduced you to his family, unbeknownst to him they'd already met you. He looked at you. "I wanted you to be here as Mihirmah recited for us."

"I'm honoured, sultan." You said softly, eyes to the ground as Mihirmah stood up and walked to the center of the room.

Suleiman gave her a nod to start.

Mihirmah took a deep breath in, closed her eyes and started reciting.

إِنَّآ أَعْطَيْنَـٰكَ ٱلْكَوْثَرَ "

فَصَلِّ لِرَبِّكَ وَٱنْحَرْ

"إِنَّ شَانِئَكَ هُوَ ٱلْأَبْتَرُ

15 seconds. Thats all it took for Mihirmah to recite the shortest surah in the Quran, with almost perfect qirat. The surah that usually took 10 minutes for children to learn, took Mihirmah all night to memorise with near-perfect pronunciation. Sure, this was not what anyone was expecting, especially not Hurrem when she challenged you and Mihirmah, but the deal was to recite a surah from Quran, by memory. It just so happened to be the shortest one, the easiest one. You won fair and square.

"MashAllah, Mihirmah. That was beautiful. I am so proud of you." Suleiman beamed, his eyes shining with pride. Mihirmah grinned, running to kiss her father's cheeks.

"Yes, Mihirmah. That was... nice." Hurrem feigned a smile, just happy that she wasnt embarrassed in front of Mahidevran.

"Thank you, mom. I guess I just had a really good teacher." Mihirmah shot you a grateful look, making everyone in the room look at you. Your face flushed, and you were grateful for the niqaab to hide your face.

"Oh- um, you're just a keen learner, sultana." You said softly.

Mahidevran lips quirked up, and Hurrem saw the evil glint in her eyes. "Oh Mihirmah, you read so wonderfully. Your voice- ah! It just moved me. Please, Mihirmah- would you be kind enough to recite for me again? I'm sure your father would love to hear you as well."

Mihirmah's brows furrowed slightly. "I- of course, sultana." She closed her eyes and was about to recite the same surah again when Mahidevran's voice stopped her.

"Oh no, Mihirmah. I was hoping to hear something else."

Mihirmah's face fell. "But this is what I've memorised-"

"That's quiet alright, sweetie. You can always read it from the Quran. This isnt a test!" She chuckled. "I'm sure your teacher has taught you the basics! Here, I even brought the Quran with me." She handed Mihirmah the Holy book.

So this is how she planned to embarrass Mihirmah. She knew the young girl was neither interested nor good at learning Quran, so now when Mihirmah would stammer upon her words, then Suleiman and Hurrem will be ashamed that their Muslim daughter, at the age of 19, cannot even recite properly. Hopefully, this might even cause the couple to fight and Mihirmah to fall from the graces of her father's eyes.

Nervously, Mihirmah slowly opened the book, turning to the first page. She cleared her throat, as it'd help.

It didnt.

Mihirmah stammered and stumbled over her words many times, to the point that the first surah that should've taken less than a minute to recite, ended up taking way longer than anyone would like to admit.

As Mihirmah finished reading, you could see the tears welling up in her eyes and redness in her cheeks. She was utterly embarrassed, she felt she had let her parents down.

"Oh Mihirmah~" Mahidevran cooed. "That was.... not good at all, darling."

"I-" Mihirmah tried to muster up an excuse but the sultana did not care.

"I mean- you were just a disaster! Stuttering and making so many mistakes, and that too with the book open!"

"Mahidevran, enough." Hurrem warned.

Mahidevran narrowed her eyes at her. "What? Oh Hurrem, I am not trying to embarrass Mihirmah! In fact, I think she's not at fault. Well, not completely. I suppose she just doesnt have a good teacher."

Everyone was now looking at you.

Is this how everything ends up becoming your fault and you're the one who gets punished?

Fuck. This.

"Excuse me?" You couldnt help the irritation seep in your voice.

Mahidevran raised a brow at you. "Am I wrong? You were supposed to be the one responsible for teaching our princess Quran. And yet, she just made a fool out of herself. You tried to fool us by making Mihirmah learn the shortest surah, but look at her now- barely able to read from the book!"

Your eyes widened. Is she for real?

"I think you're wrong, sultana." Everyone looked at you as you stated boldly. "Yes, Mihirmah sultana did stammer and made mistakes as she read but I think thats much more valuable." You sighed. "Mihirmah sultana had to make twice the effort to read the Quran than one usually would, but she will also get twice the reward from Allah for her efforts. She knew she wont read well, she knows she's just a beginner at this stage, but she didnt let it stop her. And Allah will reward her for that, He knows what was in her heart, her intentions, despite what anyone has to say about her skills."

"And as for "trying to fool" anyone here- "You looked her dead in the eye. "I find that accusation insulting to the very core. You say that I made Mihirmah sultana memorise the shortest surah in the Quran. I did. Surah Kawthar is indeed the shortest surah, but does that mean it is less important? Not worthy to be read, or be in the Holy Book altogether?"

Mahidevran was frowning as you looked at her. "Do you claim to know better than Allah as to what should or shouldn't be in His divine book? Surah Kawthar may be the shortest surah in the Quran but it is one that I find deep comfort in. As the surah translates-

Indeed, We have granted you ˹O Prophet˺ abundant goodness.

So pray and sacrifice to your Lord ˹alone˺

Only the one who hates you is truly cut off ˹from any goodness˺.

And what does this tell us? The background of these verses is that when our beloved Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) lost his son, his enemies, the non believers would make fun of him that "Islam will end now because Muhammad had no male heir to continue to grow the religion, to spread the word of Allah." But Allah wouldn't abandon his beloved prophet, even when he was depressed.

This Surah was sent down when the nonbelievers of Makkah taunted the Holy Prophet (PBUH) because he had lost all his male issues, and called him 'abtar' or insulted him for some other reason. The present Surah gives an answer to the taunts of the nonbelievers, and maintains that there is no justification for calling the Holy Prophet (PBUH) an 'abtar' only because he had no male child alive, not only because his lineal offspring will remain till the Day of Judgment, though from his daughters, but he was destined to be the spiritual father of a multitude of sons in all ages to the end of time, sons who were to be far more faithful, obedient and loving than the sons of any father, and they will outnumber the followers of all the Prophets that came before him. The Surah has also highlights the great honor and respect given to him by Allah.

I also like to think that the reason why this Surah was included in the Quran was so that Muslims in general would also be comforted by the word of Allah. That all the Muslims, even if they were not from Prophet Muhammad's direct lineage, we are his ummah and so we will also enjoy the river Kawthar.

Kawthar refers to a river in paradise, which translates "a river that contains abundant goodness" and we will enjoy the greatest honour and respect, as our Prophet Muhammad's ummah."

You took a deep breath. "So, Mahidevran sultana... do you still accuse me of fooling anyone?"

The room was dead silent. You may have indirectly insulted Mahidevran and broken so many rules, but everything you said was true. It was clear. You were smart and educated, Suleiman had no doubt about it when he first met you. And now, he was only more reassured of his decision to make you Mihirmah's teacher.

"Very well said, Y/n." Suleiman broke the silence. Standing up, he walked over to Mihirmah, holding her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead, comforting his daughter.

"I am very proud of you, Mihirmah. I can see the hardwork you did." He hugged her again, pressing another kiss to her forehead as she sniffled softly. "I knew you'd do well, so I brought a gift for you."

Mihirmah watched as a servant brought a wooden box lined with velvet and gems. Opening it, she gasped softly.

It was a gold bracelet with rubies and emeralds, lined in an intricate pattern.

Hurrem smiled as Suleiman put the bracelet around his daughter's wrist, before bringing her hand to his lips and pecking it.

He was a proud father.

"And Y/n-" You stiffened. Suleiman turned towards you, his body towering over you. "You did a fine job at not only teaching Mihirmah, but also helping us understand the significance of Surah Kawther."

A servant brought box, similar to Mihirmah's. Opening it, you saw a bracelet, identical to Mihirmah's.

"This is for you." Suleiman smiled as he placed the bracelet around your trembling hand.

"I- sultan-" you tried to return it but Suleiman silenced you.

"I crafted this with my own hands. It'll be rude of you to refuse." Your eyes widened at his serious tone and you immediately bowed your head.

"T-thank you, sultan." He hummed, returning to his seat while Mihirmah hugged you, giggling.

Dinner continued on as Mihirmah and her siblings began chattering once you left, but something had disturbed both Hurrem and Mahidevran.

"What happened inside? Catfight?" Baris Agha, the gossiper asked as you stumbled out of the room. His eyes fell on the bracelet and he snatched your hand. "Allah! Allah! Did you steal this?! I will have you-"

"Sultan Suleiman gifted it to me." Baris dropped your hand.

"S-sultan? Sultan's gift?" He whispered to himself in disbelief, but you were already walking away. You were tired, your headache had now turned into a migraine and your energy levels had dropped. All you wanted was to curl up in bed and at this point, you dont care if you wake up or not.

But sleep is for the fortunate ones. For you, Baris Agha was written.

"Y/n! You- stop! Listen!" He ran up behind you, pulling your shoulder to make you stop. "You- Sultan Suleiman gifted you the bracelet?! Do you know what this means?"

You heaved a sigh, your vision getting blurry. "Baris, just- just shut up. I need to... sleep." You turned around and started walking, not realising just how blurry your vision was, or how you were leaning against the wall for support.

All you saw was blurry figure standing in front of you, before you lost your footing. The figure caught you, and you heard Baris yell your name before losing consciousness.

Hurrem was in Suleiman's chambers. She was going to spend the night here, it seemed. Suleiman had summoned her himself tonight.

Suleiman walked inside, and when he spotted his wife, he smiled. Hurrem returned the smile, walking upto him and kissing him.

"Suleiman..." She whispered against his lips. "You summoned me?"

"I did." He lead her to the bed, sitting down. "What do you think of Y/n?"

She tilted her head. Y/n? "I suppose she is a good teacher. Smart. Well educated, at least religion wise."

He let out a hum. "What else?"

"What else, Suleiman? I dont know her." Suleiman chuckled, making her even more confused. Why are you being brought up right now?

"Well, try getting to know her better." "Why?"

Suleiman shrugged. "You'll know in due time."

Hurrem couldnt put her mind at peace the rest of the night. Why was Suleiman curious about you? He couldnt possibly want you- no. No. She saw him with you. He practically looked at you the same way he looked at Mihirmah. Thats why he gave you both the same bracelets-

Oh no.

You woke up when you felt something cool on your forehead. Opening your eyes, a wet rag blocked your vision. You pushed the rag away, accidentally touching the hand that was holding the rag there.

A man was sitting on your bedside. He had honey-coloured eyes, short, well kept dark brown hair and tanned skin.

"You can let go of my hand, Hatun Y/n." He grinned.

Your face turned red as you dropped his hand. "I- sorry."

"No worries. You're just disoriented from earlier. Exhaustion, the physicians say." He chuckled, standing up and you noticed Baris standing in the corner now. "You will need to get used to working long hours, especially now." Baris raised his brows at you as he said that, making the man laugh again.

"I will take my leave now. Take care, Hatun Y/n. And let me know if she needs anything, Baris."

"Of course, Ibrahim pasha." He bid farewell to the vizir.

The man said before leaving. Baris immediately rushed to you, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?"

"Who would've guessed- the preacher to be the tempteress?"

"Excuse me?" You glared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Baris waved you off. "Well, be flattered! I mean- you're going to be married to a sehzade soon-"

"Woah woah! What are you talking about?"

Baris stared at you. "Oh, you really dont know, do you?" You looked even more puzzled. Baris grabbed your wrist, showing you the bracelet. "This is made by sultan Suleiman. The sultan only gives handmade gifts to family and close relatives. And since I've been here since the sultan married the first sultana, I know you're not his secret love child, which means..." he waited for you to catch on, but giving up when you took too long.

"Y/n, if you're not related to him blood, then you will become related to him by becoming a part of his family. Which will be by you becoming his daughter-in-law!" He exclaimed.

Your face paled. No, no!

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies, darling." Baris tapped your chin. "And I suggest you hide your bracelet for a while. Dont want the concubines to get jealous, hm?"

So?? Thoughts??? Who do you think will be the yanderes? What do you think will happen next???

PART 9 is here!

#yandere x darling #time traveller au #king baldwin x reader #yandere male #yandere harem #yandere x reader

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sturnsdarling · 6 months ago

Text

'I get them too, sometimes'

y/n has an anxiety attack, and bff!matt calms her down the only way he can think of in the moment

vibe check: detailed anxiety attack, comforting!matt, anxious!reader, fluffy ending cute vibes all round

1.5k words

A/N: WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN anyways this is based on the iconic stydia scene where stiles has a panic attack and lydia kisses him. I was gonna do it where Matt had the anxiety attack but it felt icky so I swapped it round. as an anxious girlie this was weirdly comforting to write and PART TWO IS HERE

love and cigs, merc

The boys' house was vibrating with the thump of music from every corner. People were pouring in through the front door, all mingling in the living room as Chris' party playlist blared through the speakers. Almost everyone in the influencer space was there, and you felt like the odd one out.

The boys' had begged you to come, pulling the 'it wont be the same without you' card as they all glared at you with puppy eyes. They knew parties weren't really your thing but, it was a celebration for them hitting seven million on their youtube channel and, you knew you couldn't miss it. So after some begging and bribing with 'literally anything you want from that weird old book shop in downtown' you agreed to go.

You felt like you were wearing a sign that said, in big bold letters; 'I don't belong here' as you lent against the kitchen counter, nursing some liquid courage. Chris was on the sofa, his laughter booming over the music as he sat with Nate and some boys you didn't recognise. Nick was at the drink station, making cocktails with the girls, pretending to be a bartender as he tired, and failed, at bar flares, making everyone around him curl over with laughter, as usual. Matt was on the other side of the kitchen, talking to some people about whatever show he was obsessed with at the moment and peering over at you occasionally to make sure you were okay.

More and more people started to pile into the house, more people than you even thought they knew, and at the sight of tens of faces you didn't know, a tight feeling started to form in your chest. You knew you were okay, because you had the boys, but they were off mingling and doing their rounds and you didn't exactly want to follow them around like a lost puppy.

You put your drink down, walking over to the sink to fill a red cup with water, your hand shaking slightly as you brought the cup to your mouth. You took a gulp and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and reminding yourself that you were fine, and you were in the boys' house. You knew that they wouldn't invite anyone that they didn't trust in their home and just kept reminding yourself of that.

An already drunk and giggly girl barged into the kitchen, flayling about without a care in the world as she backed up into you, knocking your drink from your hand and nearly pushing you into the sink.

"oh, shit, m'so sorry babe" she said as you turned around slightly. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder and squeezed it, "oh my god you're so pretty what the fuck!" she squealed, "m'sorry for spilling your drink" she slurred, sauntering away as you forced a smile.

Despite the somewhat sweet interaction, something about it made your fingers go numb, your chest tightening at the feeling of your wet shirt clinging to your skin. The walls started to close in and you felt as if you could feel the world turning on its axis. Your breath felt like sand paper against your throat as you tried to steady your rapid heart rate and failed.

You pushed your way through the crowds of people and b-lined for Matt's room, your knees nearly buckling under you as you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

As if he could feel your energy change, Matt instinctively looked for you in the crowd, catching a glimpse of your frame as you ducked between people, near enough running to his room.

"I'll be right back" he said to the guy in front of him, placing his drink down and following you through the crowd, calling out your name as he did.

You fumbled at the door handle, pushing yourself inside Matts room as your vision began to blur. Your chest was heaving up and down with rapid breaths, every inhale felt nearly impossible and everything around you was pulsating, your vision turning to a fishbowl as you clawed at your chest.

"y/n/n" Matt entered the room, searching for you in the dim light.

You turned to face him, your eyes brimming with tears as you pressed hard fingers into your sternum, Matts eyes widened at the sight of you and he shut the door, coming to you in an instant, gentle hands on your shoulders as he tried to keep them in one place.

"hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay" He repeated, knowing immediately what was happening.

"I can't - I can't breathe" you stuttered out, pleading eyes burning holes into his. Your knees buckled from under you, feeling like the world was shifting under your feet.

Matt followed you to the floor, hands still gripping your shoulders. "Its okay, breathe with me, okay?" He said, taking a long inhale and encouraging you to copy him, his eyes baring into yours.

You tried to mimic his movements, a shaky breath rattling through your nose. Matt breathed out, nodding as he did and you did the same, the feeling in your chest only worsening, it felt like someone had tied a belt round your shoulders, and was pulling it closed as tight as they could around your chest, watching with a smile as the breath left your lungs.

You clenched your eyes closed and shook your head, "s'not working, Matt, nothing is working" a small sob left you as you grew more and more frustrated.

His jaw clenched at the sight of your shaking frame, feeling utterly helpless as you clawed at your chest. He brought his hands to cup your cheeks, bringing your head up to look at him.

"Its okay, y/n, m'right here, I'm right here" he poured into you, not letting you break eye contact as he tried to breathe as slowly as possible.

His thumbs stroked soft touches against your cheek, his eyes racing around your face as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Your eyes flitted back and forth between his, searching for solace in his face, feeling like the walls were closing in around you. Matts eyes fell to your lips, and quickly met your eyes once more. Your brows furrowed in frustration, eyes running circles around his features as his lips parted slightly.

Before you could register what was happening, Matt pulled you into him, crashing his lips against yours in a soft yet strong kiss.

Your eyes widened at the feeling, Matts soft lips pressed against yours as he held you tight against his face. After a moment in the embrace, your shoulders relaxed and your eyes closed, and you started to kiss him back, your arms limp by your sides.

In that moment, you felt as if nothing mattered. Your heart rate slowed and you took a calm, steady breath in through your nose. Matt pulled away from the kiss, hands still wrapped around your face as you took a long breath out through your parted mouth. Matts eyes fluttered open and he let his hands drop down to his knees. Your eyes met his, slow breaths engulfing your lungs.

"h - how did you do that?" you asked in a breathy tone

"I um - I saw somewhere that the best way to stop a panic attack is by holding your breath, so" he muttered, averting his gaze from yours.

"so, when you kissed me" you began to speak

"you held your breath" he looked back up at you, bringing his lips inside themselves, the taste of your lip balm dancing on his tongue.

You smiled, a final, relieved breath leaving your lips as you stared into him.

"thankyou" your gaze was soft and utterly grateful, doe eyes pouring into his as he shuffled where he sat.

"of course" he shrugged, looking down to the floor

You sat in silence for a moment, not a trace of awkwardness hung in the air.

"I get them too, sometimes" Matt said as he toyed with a piece of lint on the floor.

"you do?" you said, still looking at him

"mhm" he nodded, meeting your eye-line, slightly taken back by you already looking at him, "feels like the whole world is crumbling around you, shits' not fun"

"yeah" you chuckled, relaxing where you sat.

"d'you - do you wanna hang out in here for a bit? I can stay with you" Matt said, his eye contact wavering at the offer only to return to you once more.

"oh you don't - you don't have to do that, Matt, you'll miss your party" you shook your head.

"I don't really like parties anyway" he replied, "I'd honestly rather sit here with you on the floor all night" he chuckled, gesturing to the floor.

You smiled as a soft laugh left your nose, "okay" you said.

"yeah?" his head shot up to meet your gaze.

"yeah." you nodded

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

#©sturnsdarling #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

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omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

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birthanon · 11 days ago

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Write about a a woman that liked so much being pregnant, that she decided to not let the baby come out of her. She tried to delay labor as long as she could but the inevitable happened and labor started. But she wont give up, she didn't want to lose the status of pregnant woman to be just a woman again. She went to a cabin in the woods where nobody could "help" her and force her to give birth. She managed to hold the baby in for 2 or 3 days by using means to physically block the baby from coming out and even ways to relieve the urge to push(without actually pushing the baby out). But eventually she makes a mistake that makes the baby go out to the "point of no return" and she end up giving birth.

Here we go! Thanks for the prompt!

The following story contains severe (and unrealistic) self-birth denial and clothing birth.

It’s the year 2028, and women have lost the right to vote, unless they are pregnant and they can certify that the fetus is a man. So, nine and a half months ago, Hannah had begun to date with the hope that she would have the ability to vote. Unfortunately, the dating worked a bit better than she’d expected, and so the pregnancy process started. . . prematurely.

When Hannah reached her ninth month mid-October and began experiencing practice contractions, she went to her doctor and asked for some nifediphine, expressing that she was worried her baby would be born too early, and that she wanted to give birth to a big strong boy. The doctor, with a gleam in his eye at those words, agreed and gave her the prescription, though warned her he could only give her so much.

Contractions came and went over the next couple of weeks, often in the least expected and most inopportune times. Hannah called in sick to work so she could remain more sedentary, in hopes of keeping the baby in her for as long as possible. Uncomfortable weeks of swollenness and nausea stretched on, but she convinced herself it would be worth it, to stay pregnant, so she could vote. The only women men cared about these days were the ones that were pregnant, and she had to make the most of it.

On November 3rd, two weeks and a half weeks after her due date, Hannah ran out of nifediphine, and despite laying on her left side and drinking plenty of water, her contractions began in earnest. No, no, no, Hannah thought, breathing hard, as the latest contraction eased. The last two contractions had been ten minutes apart. “Baby,” she gasped, cradling her hand around her large stomach, “You have to wait, just four more days. Elections are on the seventh, and we have to vote.”

The baby, however, didn’t seem to care and the contractions continued. Hannah’s body screamed at her to get up and move, to sway through the pain. But she couldn’t, not if she wanted to keep the baby in, so she lay still, breathing through each pain, keeping her legs pressed together and her hips up on a couple pillows to help keep the baby off of her cervix. In lew of moving, she moaned through each pain, vocalizing freely.

Three hours in, her contractions were five minutes apart, and there was a knock at her door. Hannah swallowed back her latest moan as another contraction struck. She currled around her stomach, miserable.

The knock sounded again urgent. “This is the paramedics. We’re here on a wellness check. A neighbor said they heard someone in distress. Please open up or we’ll break down the door.”

Shit, Hannah thought. She couldn’t get discovered, they’d force her to give birth. She’d have to stand up. First, she looked up some birth videos on her phone and cast them to her tv. By that time, her contraction had begun to ease a bit. She called an “I’m coming, just give me a minute,” to the door, and very, very slowly sat up and eased herself to her feet.

The moment she got up, she felt her baby slam down into her opening cervix. Her feet spread instinctively as another contraction seized her. She clung to her headboard gasping, eyes wide, shocked by the firefly pain of her cervix stretching around the baby’s head. The pressure increased dramatically, until she felt something pop within her, sending water gushing over her feet. Luckily, her moan was covered by the scream from her tv.

“Ma’am are you all right?” The paramedics called.

Groaning, Hanah forced herself to stand up straight, organized her clothes and walked carefully toward the door, trying to keep her legs as close together as possible.

The paramedics seemed relieved, when she answered, their eyes going straight to her enormous belly which strained against the nightgown she was wearing.

“Sorry,” she said, cradling her stomach. “It gets so hard to get around these days, with this passenger.”

“A neighbor heard sounds,” the paramedic said, eyes fixed on her stomach. “They were worried you needed assistance.”

“Not me, unfortunately,” Hannah said with a smile. “I was watching birth videos, to get ready for the day. I didn’t realize they were so loud. I’ll turn them down.”

The paramedic seemed unconcerned, so Hannah stepped carefully aside, waving him into her house. As long as he stayed out of her bedroom, currently covered in her waters, she would be safe.

She stayed by the door, legs pressed tightly together, though her body screamed at her to open her legs, while the paramedic walked into her living room and saw the birthing videos on her tv.

Another contraction struck, this one accompanied with the undeniable urge to push. Hannah bit her lip to avoid crying out, thankful that the paramedic’s back was turned as he sauntered through her house. The contraction hadn’t quite given in by the time he turned around however.

“It seems everything is in order,” he said. “You sure you are all right?”

Hannah forced a smile. “Just fine,” she assured him, as sweat itched its way down her back and water dripped down her leg.

“All right then,” and the paramedic left. Hanah let out a relieved sigh and leaned against the door as she closed it. If she wanted the chance to vote, she’d need to go elsewhere, somewhere no one would hear her scream.

Moving carefully, she waddled to her room and grabbed her hospital bag she’d prepared a few days ago. That had a lot of what she needed, but if she was going to keep the baby in for four more days, she’d need a bit more help. She grabbed towels, her clean kitchen scissors, and several bottles of water. Then she changed her clothes, forcing on a pair of tight exercise shorts, and some pre-pregnancy jeans. She could barely walk in them, and they clung uncomfortably to her hips and butt. The crotch of the pants dug into her sensitive, swollen lips, but it was a reassuring kind of pain. She would vote this year.

With her stuff gathered, she began to carefully walk to her car, one hand holding her bag, the other cradling her bump. She tried to keep her legs close together, but it was near impossible. Two agonizing contractions later (she could feel her baby moving down even though she stalwartly refused to push) she reached her car. Dropping her bag in the passenger seat, she pulled out her phone and looked up air-bnb’s. She found a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, about three hours away, and booked it for a month.

With the address in her phone, and a calming spotify playlist on her speakers, she began her drive there. It was unpleasant, to say the least. The evermore insistent contractions continued every five minutes, and with each contraction the command to push came over her. Each time she breathed through it, moaning as she felt her baby stretch her insides and move down, little by little, despite her best efforts. On the plus side, this was her first baby and it was massively overdue.

It took her five hours to reach the cabin, because she’d needed to drive carefully and avoid freeways given how all-consuming the contractions were becoming. She pulled up, stopped the car and collapsed back in her seat, legs splayed. She needed to pee. She needed her clothes off. She needed to push. The last she couldn’t do, but the first two, she could.

With a moan, she grabbed her bag and got up from the car. Standing was so much worse. Her legs were trembling from exhaustion. She managed about three steps before another contraction struck, her belly tightening beneath her hand. She screamed at the pain as her legs gave way and she fell to her knees on the driveway. No one was around for miles. So she allowed herself to freely vocalize until the contraction gave way.

Once it was done, she decided standing would be too much work, and so she began to crawl up the front door, her large stomach brushing on the stairs as she went up them. Using the door handle, she managed to leverage herself to her feet and type in the code.

Then she was in. She staggered gratefully into the cabin. It was small, a kitchen and sitting room with a couch and a tv, and a single bedroom with a master bathroom, and most importantly a very narrow tub.

Hannah dropped her stuff on her bed and went straight to the bathroom. Removing her tight clothes took several minutes, but finally she collapsed on the toilet and took care of business, working through several contractions on the toilet. Then she ran hot water in the tub. She found some plastic boxes under the sink and put them on either side of the tub, where her legs would be, to force them together. Then covered in sweat and birthing fluids, she gratefully got in.

She moaned as the warm water lapped around her. It eased the constant pain in her stomach. At the next contraction, her legs instinctively tried to spread, but they couldn't, held in place by the plastic boxes on either side. She screamed with the pain of her contraction, enjoying the ability to finally make as much noise as possible.

She stayed in the tub, laboring, until the water ran cold, then she ran the water again and again. When she finally felt too wrinkly, when her body screamed too much at her to move, she reluctantly clambered out of the tub. Instantly, another contraction hit, and her legs spread instinctively. She gave way and pushed, crying out as she felt the baby shoot several inches down her canal.

She yelped as she felt it move. Sitting now, just behind her lips, and it had only been a day. She still had three more days of this. There was no more time for error.

Without bothering to dry off, she put on the tight exercise shorts, then her too-tight jeans. Her body protested as it forced her legs together, but it didn’t matter. She had to keep this baby in. She needed to stay pregnant. She left her top bare. Just this much clothing felt too constrictive, but the pants were necessary. Then she made her way to the bed. She piled the water bottles by her nightstand, stacked pillows up to keep her hips elevated, and pulled out a couple belts, which she wrapped between her crotch and her hips, extra security in case the clothes failed.

All set, she collapsed on the bed. The next contraction that came, she pushed. She couldn’t not push. She had to trust her preparations so far. The baby moved down, beginning to spread her lips just a bit. It stung, as if her crotch had been lit on fire. She screamed again, and stopped pushing, surprised at just how painful the stretch was.

And thus that first night went on and on and on, with her pushing as she needed, with the head stretching her a tiny bit more each time, but never coming to a full crown, her clothes too tight. She lost herself in the rhythm. Breathe, push, scream, feel the pants push the baby back into her.

Sunlight came again, through the windows. She was nauseous and exhausted, but drank water and ate an energy bar between contractions. At one point she tried to get up, thinking maybe she’d try the bath again, but her legs couldn’t support her. She was too tired, and she needed to conserve her energy. She turned on a show, whatever Netflix suggested and let it autoplay, trying to distract herself from the pain, from the constant need to push, from the fire in her crotch.

It helped to vocalize when she needed to without fear of people trying to assist. It also helped that she could push as she needed, trusting in her clothes to keep the baby in. She lay in her bed, hips elevated with pillows, curled in a miserable ball around her massive stomach. Days passed in a blur of agony, her voice too hoarse to scream, her sheets soaked in sweat. Until finally, finally, the alarm on her phone sounded, cutting through the fog of exhaustion and agony that had overrun her.

It was voting day! She’d done it!

She carefully began to move, sitting up for the first time in days. As soon as she engaged her abs, the baby was forced down again. Cautiously, she put her feet out on the floor, spread wide to accommodate her massive, low belly. Then, using the bedpost she began to stand.

The urge to push came over her, renewed by the shift in gravity, and she obliged. Squating and moaning. Then to her surprise and shock, she felt the baby move, far more than it ever had. After days of strain, the seams on her overworked pants gave way to the efforts of this new push, and the baby’s head crowned completely for the first time. Hannah screamed, dropping to her knees in shock, her hand reaching for the massive bulge in her pants instinctively.

Between the crossing of her belts, she felt her wet pants, the massive hole in the seams, of both her jeans and her exercise shorts, and then, the head. Her fingers touched the curly hair, damp from birthing liquids.

No, no, no, she thought. This couldn’t be, not after all she’d done, not after she’d all she’d been through. She couldn’t give birth. Steadying herself, she pressed her hand up against the crowning head, and began to gently ease the baby in.

Whatever pain she was imagining, this was far worse she screamed at the attempt, and stopped. She knelt there, legs spread, hand between them, panting, stars before her eyes. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t push the baby back in.

She’d have to go like this. The nightstand helped her pull herself to her feet. She took a couple of steps toward the door. The baby’s massive head touched her thighs with each step, slipping out a tiny bit more. As she reached the kitchen, she felt the nose stretch her lips and slip out. Still, she kept waddling forward, determined. She grabbed her keys, reached the front door, and shut it. Three stairs and a walkway, then she’d be in her car and the seat would keep the baby in. She could do it.

She went down the first step, her legs spreading out of necessity. A contraction hit, seizing her body, her stomach tightening. Her hands clasped the guardrail to keep herself upright. She tried not to push, but it didn’t matter. Her legs were spread, for practically the first time in four days, gravity was on her side, and the baby’s head was halfway out. With just the slightest of instinctive pushes, the head shot the rest of the way out, shooting through the seams of her pants, catching only on the buckles around her crotch.

Hannah screamed at the sensation of the head emerging. She couldn’t move, couldn’t take another step as the next contraction struck. It had been too long. The baby had to come out, now. No matter her previous attempts. The shoulders began to emerge, stretching her further. Then the baby stopped, caught by the belts, unable to go further.

Falling back on the edge of the stairs, Hannah began frantically tearing off the belts. Another contraction hit, she pushed. No progress. She got one belt off by the next one, and was rewarded with even more of a spread. It took her two more, fruitless, desperate contractions to get the last belt off.

The baby shot out, ripping through the remains of Hannah’s pants, and into her waiting hands. The tiny thing began to cry, and Hannah cried as well, holding it close to her.

She wouldn’t vote this year, but she would ensure that this baby would be raised right. He’d never let anyone be put in her position, not if she could help it.

#birth denial #birth kink #clothing birth #giving birth #birth story #fpreg #fpreg birth

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khioneee · 4 months ago

Note

No nonono no no no. I just found Wilted 😭😭😭😭😭my heart can’t take it I think this is one of the best angst fics I’ve ever read😭😭 like it needs so much more recognition. But it can’t end like this.

Idk if you do request and if not that’s completely fine, but could you do like a part two or an au where something triggers her memories (bonus if she gets them back when she’s with her new boyfriend) and she so angry so she asked her mom then maybe she sees Simon walking or she calls him and demands he tells her the truth and that he take her home(with him) even though everyone is telling her Simon’s no good for her(including him), she wont listen and tells him the wreck wasn’t his fault and that nobody decides who she can and can’t be with that it’s her decision. And they get back together you know happy endings.

You can change some stuff if you want I just want to see Simon happy. Ok that’s all don’t forget to eat something and drink some water. Great authors have to take care of themselves too, bye👋❤️.

you got it, nonnie! been cooking this up since you sent the req, and it’s already at 3.4k words 😭. but more importantly, remember to take care of yourself too! here’s your reminder to eat and drink your 12 cups of water 🥹. hope this is close to what you were hoping for 💗 enjoy.

The days had stretched too long without him, the anticipation growing each time you glanced at the door of your flower shop. His deployment was supposed to end a week ago, and every day you found yourself waiting, feeling a quiet ache that had started to bleed into worry. Simon always visited the shop as soon as he came back, his presence slipping in like he was part of the space, a rhythm that had somehow settled into your life.

And then, finally, he arrived.

Simon stepped through the door, and the world felt like it clicked back into place. Everything seemed normal again, like he belonged there, in that space filled with soft greens and blooms. He moved among the flowers like they were as much a part of him as the silence he carried, and you thought that maybe it was just the frequency of his visits. But there was something more—a quiet sense of homecoming, of something unspoken that settled deep inside you.

“What took you so long?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. Yet the relief that seeped through your words betrayed you, slipping out despite yourself. It was almost silly, really, to feel so much for a man you barely knew.

But here he was, standing in your shop again, and the warmth of his presence seemed to fill a space that had felt empty in ways you hadn’t known.

Simon hesitated, his gaze dipping downward for a moment before he looked back at you. “I… needed to get settled,” he murmured, voice soft. His hand reached into his bag, pulling out a small, nearly-dry purple plant, its leaves curled at the edges. He held it out with a strange kind of reverence, as if it held a secret. “Got this for you. They were all over the ground in Brazil… tried not to hurt it on the way back.”

The plant lay fragile in his hands, bruised but beautiful, and something twisted inside you. As you took it, your fingers brushed his, a moment too brief, too fleeting, and it sent a warmth up your arm.

“It’s lovely,” you whispered, your voice catching on something you couldn’t name. There was an ache there, beneath the words, an unspoken weight that hung in the way he looked at you.

He took a slow, deep breath, his gaze drifting around the shop, his eyes touching each corner as if memorizing it, as if gathering it all up in a way that felt final.

“Listen,” he began, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, every word feeling like a struggle. “I… I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.”

The words struck you, sudden and sharp, and you couldn’t help the way your chest tightened. “What do you mean?” you asked, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not healthy… coming here again and again,” he replied, looking away as though the words were too heavy to say while meeting your gaze. “Buying flowers, visiting her grave…” He paused, swallowing, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the grief that clung to him like an old coat. “I can’t keep holding on to someone who’s already gone. If I stay… it feels like I’ll never move on with my life.”

You couldn’t fully understand—why he felt like he had to leave you behind along with the girl he’d lost. He could still visit, couldn’t he? It didn’t make sense why he had to leave you too. But you knew better than to argue with a grieving man, especially one who carried loss in a way that had become part of him.

Your fingers tightened around the plant, holding it like it could keep you steady.

“I understand,” you said softly, though your voice wavered. “But… can’t say that I won’t miss you.” You forced a faint, sad smile, but the ache in your chest felt like something breaking, something you couldn’t quite name.

Simon’s gaze softened, his eyes meeting yours with a look that felt like he was holding back a thousand things he couldn’t say.

“Can’t say I won’t miss you either,” he murmured, his voice raw, as if he were trying to contain everything he felt. “You’ve been… well, you’ve been more than you know.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with things unsaid, memories neither of you would speak of. You felt the weight of it all—the quiet understanding, the way you were both holding on to something that seemed to slip further away with every breath.

You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the words to ease the ache blooming in your chest. “I hope you find peace, Simon,” you whispered, voice barely steady. “Real, honest peace. The kind that lets you finally be happy.”

A flicker of something passed over his face—gratitude, maybe, or just understanding, but it was enough to send another pang through you.

“Thank you,” he said, voice rough but sincere, like the words themselves held a weight he couldn’t release. “I’ll try.”

He turned to leave, his steps slow, each one feeling like it carried more than just distance. He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder one last time, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Take care of yourself for me, yeah?” he said quietly, almost a plea.

You nodded, feeling a sting in your chest, like you were letting go of something you never even knew you had. “You too, Simon.”

And then, without another word, he walked out of the shop, his presence lingering in the silence he left behind. In your hands, the purple plant sat like a quiet promise, a reminder of something both lost and found.

A goodbye that felt like an ending and a beginning all at once.

You were watching your boyfriend move around the kitchen, chatting with your mom as they prepared dinner together, their voices blending with the warmth of home. Yet, despite the comfort of the scene, something kept pulling your gaze back to the small vase on the counter.

Inside, the purple flower Simon had given you was wilting. Its petals, once vibrant, were curling at the edges, their color fading—a quiet reminder that something beautiful had started to slip away. You couldn’t ignore the faint pang that stirred within you each time you looked at it.

Your mother noticed and smiled, gently suggesting, “Why don’t you press it into one of your journals? You’ve got that lovely collection of pressed flowers. It’d be a shame to let this one go to waste.”

Her words caught you off guard. A collection of pressed flowers? You tried to recall the last time you’d pressed a flower, but nothing came to mind. The idea felt foreign, yet strangely familiar, like an old habit you’d somehow forgotten.

Driven by curiosity, you excused yourself from the kitchen and headed to your room. There, on a dusty shelf, you found a stack of journals that looked well-worn, as though they’d been opened and closed countless times. You selected one at random, and as you opened it, a few pages slipped loose, drifting to the floor.

Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pages, pausing as your fingers brushed over a pressed daisy, faded but delicately preserved. Beneath it, there was a note written in neat, careful handwriting. You held it closer, heart pounding as you read the words:

Every time I see a flower, I can’t help but think of you. You’re everywhere, even when I’m miles away.

The signature was unmistakable: Simon.

You stood frozen for a moment, rereading the words that felt intimate yet unfamiliar. Simon’s handwriting… words from him, words that seemed to speak to you in ways that went beyond the surface. You couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it was as though he were reaching out to you from a memory you hadn’t realized you’d lost.

Compelled to understand more, you flipped through the pages of the journal, finding more pressed flowers scattered among the entries. Each flower seemed to carry its own message, its own secret memory, and tucked between them were letters—some in Simon’s handwriting, some in your own.

Another note slipped out, this one written by you, the ink familiar and clear:

Home is not the same without you. Every corner feels empty, every morning too quiet. Please, come home safely, Simon. This place isn’t home without you in it.

You felt an ache spread through your chest as you read the words. These weren’t just casual messages—they were parts of a shared story, a connection you hadn’t known existed. Every letter spoke of moments between the two of you, woven together like threads in a tapestry you’d somehow forgotten.

Heart pounding, you reached for another journal, one that looked older and more worn. As you flipped through, more letters and flowers revealed themselves, each one adding to a picture that was slowly coming into focus. Memories of travels, quiet conversations, promises made under moonlit skies—all preserved, pressed between petals and pages.

And then, nestled near the back of one of the journals, you found the last note, written in your handwriting, simple yet filled with a love that resonated through every word:

I love you forever, Simon. And to answer your question… yes, I’ll marry you.

The words seemed to leap off the page, a promise sealed between petals and time, hidden but unforgotten. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the weight of the letters settled over you, filling the gaps with emotions you hadn’t known you were missing.

This wasn’t just a collection of flowers—it was a history, a story of love, of quiet moments and shared dreams. Simon hadn’t just been a visitor to your shop. He had been a part of your life, woven into it in ways you were only beginning to understand.

As you sat there surrounded by journals and petals, the wilted flower on the counter took on a new meaning. It was a reminder of something fragile yet enduring, something that had managed to survive through time, waiting patiently for you to remember.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by pieces of a love you hadn’t known you’d lost, you felt the weight of that history settle into your heart, filling it with both sorrow and a newfound understanding of the promise you’d once made—one that now, despite everything, felt as real as ever.

You sat there, surrounded by scattered journals, pressed flowers, and letters that hinted at a life you hadn’t remembered until now. The words on the pages blurred as tears slipped down your cheeks, the weight of each revelation pressing heavily on your heart. This wasn’t just a collection of flowers and notes—this was a love story, preserved between petals and pages, hidden from you until this moment.

Just then, your mother appeared in the doorway. She took in the scene—pages strewn across the floor, tears streaming down your face, and the shattered look in your eyes. Concern deepened in her gaze as she slowly walked over to you.

“Sweetheart?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with worry. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You looked up at her, voice breaking as you clutched the journal close to your chest. “You kept everything from me.”

You clutched the letters tightly in your hands as you made your way to the field. You didn’t know how you knew he’d be here, but somehow it felt right, like an unspoken understanding guiding your steps. The sky was a muted gray, casting a somber light over the tall grass swaying gently in the breeze.

And there he was—Simon. Standing alone, hands in his pockets, his gaze distant as he looked out over the field. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze dropped to the letters in your hands, and as realization dawned on his face, his expression softened, then crumbled, and for a second, he looked as vulnerable as the words he’d written so long ago.

“Were you ever planning to tell me?” you asked, your voice shaking as you tried to hold back tears. You took a step closer, feeling the weight of each word pressing down on you. “Or were you just going to let me go on without ever knowing?”

Simon’s face fell, and he took a deep breath, his gaze shifting down, unable to meet your eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to put you through that again. Everyone thought… it would be easier for you to heal without knowing.”

You shook your head, the letters trembling in your grip. “But I loved you, Simon. I deserved to know that much. I deserved to know what we had.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw, each one carrying the weight of what had been kept from you. You watched as he took a step closer, his own eyes glistening, his hands clenching at his sides as if he were fighting to keep control.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “The last thing I wanted was to bring you more pain.”

“Pain?” you repeated, voice rising. “Do you know what it feels like to find letters and memories that don’t feel like mine, but are? To feel like a stranger in my own life?”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, his gaze filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry… I never wanted this for you.” He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… maybe I could just leave you with a clean slate, let you have a life without the weight of what we went through.”

“But it was my life too, Simon,” you replied, voice soft but resolute. “I had a right to know the love we shared, the promises we made… and you took that from me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as you stood facing each other in the empty field, the letters a fragile testament to what once was.

Finally, Simon looked up, meeting your gaze, his own eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I loved you more than anything,” he said, his voice rough, each word like a confession. “And I still do. That’s why it was so damn hard to watch you live without knowing… but it felt selfish to want you back, to bring you all the hurt that we went through.”

Your throat tightened as you looked down at the letters, the words that held pieces of a love you’d somehow forgotten, promises you hadn’t known you’d made.

“But maybe that’s not your choice to make,” you whispered. “Maybe… maybe I needed to remember, even if it hurt.”

Simon’s face softened, his eyes filling with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before, glistening with unshed tears as he took a shaky breath.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together, each word heavy with remorse.

“You owe it to me, Simon,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache. “I have a right to know who I was—to know who we were. And if it hurts, then that’s mine to bear.”

He looked away, jaw tightening, struggling against the emotions that threatened to break through. “I just… I thought maybe if you had a fresh start, it would be easier. You could move on without… without the memories.”

“But they aren’t just memories, Simon,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “They’re pieces of me, of us. And you had no right to decide I didn’t need them.” You held up the letters, trembling in your hands, a tangible reminder of the love you’d both lost. “These aren’t just words on a page—they’re moments, promises we shared, a life we built together. You can’t erase that, no matter how much you try.”

Simon’s gaze returned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and longing that mirrored your own. “You’re right,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I owe you that, and more. I was wrong to keep it from you. I was wrong to think I could just let you go and pretend it would be better that way.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything that had been kept from you since the accident, the loss of something you never even knew was yours.

“My life… it hasn’t felt right since the accident,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like I’ve been living in a place that doesn’t quite fit, like I’m walking through someone else’s memories.”

Simon’s expression softened, his gaze filled with an ache that mirrored your own. He didn’t say anything, waiting, giving you space to continue.

“When you came to say goodbye, it hurt in a way I couldn’t understand,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know why I felt so empty watching you leave. But the only thing that’s made sense… the only thing that felt real was when you walked into the flower shop. Every time you came by, it was like… like a part of me recognized you, even if I didn’t know why.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours, grounding you as he spoke. “I should have known. I thought I could walk away, let you find your own peace, but it’s clear now… I’ve just been trying to hide from something we both needed.”

You held his gaze, pain, regret, and quiet understanding filling the silence between you.

And then, your eyes drifted downward, noticing something glinting at his chest. Hanging alongside his dog tags was a delicate silver band—a ring, familiar in shape and weight. It took you a moment to realize what it was, but when you did, it felt like the ground slipped out from under you.

It was your engagement ring.

The ring you’d once said yes to. An evidence of a love you couldn’t remember but somehow felt deep in your bones.

A fresh wave of emotion surged through you, your gaze lifting to meet Simon’s. He noticed your stare, his fingers reaching up to touch the ring as if it were a talisman, his face softened with both pain and something that looked like hope.

“Simon…” you whispered, words catching in your throat. “I don’t know if what I feel right now is love. I don’t know if I can call it that… yet.” You took a deep, steadying breath. “But I feel like it could be someday. Like there’s something here that could grow into that.”

His eyes glistened with something close to relief, and he nodded, his lips pressing into a faint, bittersweet smile. “That’s more than I ever thought I’d hear from you again,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You held his gaze, a strange peace settling over you as you spoke. “I know I loved you once. And maybe… maybe I’ll love you again. In this life, and whatever comes after.”

A quiet, vulnerable smile touched his lips as he reached up, his fingers brushing over the ring, the same band that held so much history, so much unspoken promise.

“I was waiting for you to come back,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “Waiting for you to remember.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling deep within you. Stepping closer, you gently placed your hand over his, your thumb brushing against the ring he’d held onto all this time.

“I’m here now,” you whispered, meeting his gaze.

The pain, the longing, and the love that had waited in silence between you found its voice in that moment. You didn’t need memories to know that this was where you belonged, and for the first time in a long time, the pieces of your life began to feel whole.

As you sat there with him, surrounded by the stillness of the field, you noticed a lone dandelion growing nearby, its delicate seeds waiting to be carried away by the breeze. You reached over, plucking it gently, and held it out to him with a soft smile.

“Make a wish,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the quiet around you.

He looked at the dandelion, then back at you, a tender smile crossing his face as he shook his head. “I already got my wish,” he murmured, his eyes filled with a warmth and sincerity that made your heart ache in the best way.

In that moment, words felt unnecessary.

You leaned into him, feeling the quiet reassurance of his presence, knowing that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together.

#asks #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley #angst #cod ghost #ghost

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megicy · 1 month ago

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smut ── mdni. masterlist.

★ you can't deny it: gojo is one of the hottest men you've ever seen. yes, he is your boss, a father, but nobody can blame you. he treats you so good, he is so nice to you, that of course you'd be confused. he is so tall and broad, sometimes he wears one of those shirts that clings to his muscular biceps just right.

"thank you for taking care of her tonight, darling." he caresses your cheek while you cheek that the transference is done. twenty thousand yen for taking his cute five years old daughter for five hours. "it's always a pleasure, sir." you smile at him as you lean into his touch, his big hand cupping your right cheek. he smiles you back and lowers his voice a bit, his tone now intimate. "it's late, wanna stay here?" of course you want to, how could you refuse? it was probably the best offer you've ever had. "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I don't want to disturb." you feign innocence and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. "you never disturb, sweetheart. you can stay. emma will love to see you here when she wakes up." his blue eyes following the movement of your hand and his thumb continues to move across your cheek. "then, sure, I guess I can stay, sir" you look at him with those foxy eyes of yours without knowing what your gaze does to him. "and please, call me satoru." he smirks to you. gojo's hand leaves your cheek and goes to the small of your back, making you walk next to him. "you already know where is the guests bedroom, so feel free to use it. my bedroom is next to it, so come if you have a nightmare." he playfully winks at you and you feel your knees weaker, but you chuckle a bit nervous. damn, of course you would go to his bedroom. he has been playing along with you every single time you've flirted with him a few weeks later after you started taking care of his daughter, emma. he always found your audacity amusing, but he wont lie, you are such an attractive girl and after all he is just a man. satoru noticed the way you played with your hair when you talked to him, your cute little shorts that hugged your curves perfectly fine, the way you smiled at him and the sweet tone of your voice, when you made him dinner — even if he just pays you to take care of his daughter—, when your hand touches slightly his biceps when you show him how grateful you are with him. "you can use the shower of my bathroom, feel free to use my clothes to sleep. I guess you'll be more comfortable." he smiles at you and opens the door of his bedroom, encouraging you to get in. satoru also goes inside and lays on his bed as you enter his private bathroom. it's pretty and big, quite elegant too. you undress yourself and then you start getting showered. it feels good taking it after a long day. even if his daughter is such a good kid, it's tired to play for five hours with such an energetic child.

a smirk appears on your face when you leave the shower and comb your hair. you didn't catch gojo's clean clothes, so you only had a versace's white bath towel to cover yourself. so that's exactly what you did. you left the bathroom, and satoru's gaze went to the bathroom's door when you opened it. he shifted slightly on his bed, eyes roaming over your body. he gets up and hand you one a clean shirt, but his other hand grabs your waist. "you do this on purpose, don't you?" he whispers. "do what?" you say, rubbing his chest with your hand. he doesn't answer, but kisses you like a starving man drinking water. his arms grip your waist and the shirt he was handing to you falls onto the floor as he claims your lips. "you're a damn tease." he growls against your lips and his sloppy kisses go down to your neck. "do you think I didn't realise how you're pussy craves me anytime you see me?" he groan against your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses here and there. "you'd be a great mother for emma, do you want to give her a sibling? do you want me to fill you with my cum? you'd be the hottest mother ever, sweetheart." he whispers against your ear and bites your earlobe, his hands take of the towel that covers you, making it fall onto the floor next to the shirt, as he pulls slightly away to see your body. "you're fucking gorgeous." he growls. satoru's hands grab your thights, fingers digging into your still wet flesh as he makes you wrap your bare legs around his hips. wasting no time, he pins you against the mattress, your chest against his as he tries to steady his breathing. "now I will give you what you've been asking for this whole time." his lips crushes against your neck, wet kisses all over your throat and he goes lower and lower, showering you with kisses. his mouth catches one of your breast in his mouth and starts sucking it roughly. his right hand go to your swollen clit and starts rubbing his thumb against it, drawing invisible circles. you moan and arch your back making him chuckle against your tit. "do you like it, sweetheart?" his whisper sends a shiver to your spine and you nod, but he stops his movement on your clit. "use your words, talk to daddy." he growls against your skin, gently biting your nipple. "y-yes, I love it, please keep going." your plea makes him even harder and he takes his shirt off and throws it anywhere, his attentions focused on you. you gasp when you see his bare chest, a hundred times even better than you imagined it. his abs sweaty as he follows your order, thumb drawing circles against your clit again making you dig your nails into his broad back. his mouth continues devouring your body when he finally pushes a finger in your wet pussy, your sticky walls clinging around him.

"it's not enough, 'toru." you whine. he chuckles as he slips two fingers more inside you, touching that sweet spot of yours making you arch your back. "you're so tight and stil asking for more." he grumbles against your skin. he doesn't want to hurt you, but you make it so damn difficult. he thrust his fingers in you mercilessly as his head goes lower and he sucks your clit. you moan loudly and he gives you a glare. "don't be loud. we don't want to wake up emma." he mumbles against your core and he keeps playing with your clit in his mouth as his fingers fuck your tight cunt, making delicious sounds every time it goes in and out. "please, I'm ready. I want you inside before I come." your plea makes him groan and he answers with a low growl "so bossy, you damn brat." he leaves your pussy and both of his hands grab your hips as he aligns himself. he introduces just the tip, but when you look at him with those bambi lustful eyes, he can't contain himself more. he fills you with one thrust and he shuts you up claiming your lips wildly. your nails scratch his back and his hips move against you rougher. you feel your ecstasy coming and you grab his biceps. "fuck, you're taking me so good, so fucking good baby. c'mon, do you want daddy's milk? of course you do." he whispers and grabs your neck with his hand. your eyes go blank as he fills you just right and his length reaches that sweet spot of yours. you reach your ecstasy when you feel his cum inside you. "that's it, such a good girl you are, gorgeous." he removes his grip on your neck and leaves soft kisses all over your face as you try to catch your breath. a faint smile appears on your face, finally and at least for tonight, your boss this man is yours. and of course, it wouldn't be just for that night.

#megicy #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you

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tvseries-writings · 9 months ago

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Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

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