#and will be moving to a different city a little while afterward

[sdmnpact]

˗ˏˋJealousyˎˊ˗

Wroetoshaw x Reader smut

**18+ MDNI**

~~~

You were laying on the couch at your boyfriend's flat watching videos on your laptop. He was in the kitchen making dinner for you two. A usual routine you guys follow, one cooks the other cleans afterwards. You two have built a cozy little life for yourselves. You find joy just being in each other's company, even if it means staying home most nights just cuddling on the couch. Sometimes you wish for a change of scenery and Harry makes sure to fill that desire by taking you to do fun activities in the city. You aren't usually an active person but sometimes you can't help but get a little jealous when Harry is out hiking, playing golf, or filming in some random country. He doesn't really take you out on those types of activities but you don't complain.

"Whatcha watching baby?" He asked as he came over and sat down, moving the pillow you were resting on so he can act as your headrest. You quickly get comfortable on his thigh as you readjusted yourself. You were just binging Joe Weller content, from his own videos to his features on the sidemen channel. You were quite enamored with him lately because of how much time he was spending with the boys. Something about his love for nature and his wild stories made you feel some type of way, creating a want, to learn more about him. You couldn't help but feel slightly attracted to him since he is so fit and adventurous.

**You're POV**

"Just some youtube videos..." I trailed off. Clicking on a different video. "Was that Joe Weller?" He asked partially joking partially serious. "Oh yeah." I awkwardly laughed. "Why are you acting weird?" He said tensing up. "I'm not, I'm fine."

"Seriously y/n! What is it!?"

"Okay, fine, I was watching him because he's interesting and does a ton of cool stuff! Is that wrong?" I said getting a bit defensive. "Well of course not unless you fancy him...." There was a long pause as silence filled the room. "Oh my God, you do fancy him!" He said getting up, leaving my head to plop on to the couch. "I mean, don't you fancy girls online!?"

To be fair, I've seen his Instagram feed and there are a couple onlyfans models he follows. I don't get upset about it because I know he loves me so I don't know why he's getting upset over this. "Well yeah, they're hot but I'm not subscribing to them and watching all their videos!" He semi shouted. There was a different look in his eye. A look of intense jealousy. "Listen Harry, it's just a couple of videos. It's not like I'm touching myself to them!" That line drove him over the edge. I could see the anger form in his eyes, like someone lit a fire.

"I'm sorry, what!?" He said getting a bit louder. " You want him to fuck you? Is that it!?" He said standing over me. "No, I want you to do it!" I said. Harry never and I mean NEVER gets angry like this. It was kind of hot. He was a bit taken back by my words but then I noticed another look in his eyes. Pure lust.

He grabbed my waist fiercely bringing me closer to him. I felt his hot breath on my face as he leaned down to my ear and with a deep musky voice said, "what'd you say?" It was over for me. I could just melt right now.

"I want you to fuck me." I said blatantly, running my fingers down his back putting my arms around his waist bringing it closer to mine. I felt him grow in his pants and I chuckled to myself. He wants it so bad. He pressed his lips against mine and I quickly melted into the kiss. He kissed me so sloppily and so rough like he was starving for more. I reach for his hair and ran my fingers though his blonde locks tugging at them slightly making him moan. I know pulling on his hair makes him go crazy. His hand explored my body feeling all my delicate areas making me shiver at his touch. He reached for my pants, unbuttoning them with one hand while the other hand held my waist. He unzipped them then threw me onto the couch with slight force but also in a way that still felt gentle.

He pulled off my pants and my underwear making sure to run his fingers slowly down my thighs and legs. I felt myself pulsating as he slowly caressed my inner thigh making me go wild. I looked down at him between my legs. His bright blue eyes and messy hair making him look so attractive. He brought his face closer to my throbbing heat holding onto my legs. He slowly kissed my inner thigh getting closer and closer to my heat with each kiss making my legs quiver. I gasped as I felt his wet tongue swirl on my lips. He looked up at me and I felt a smirk on his lips as he slipped his tongue inside. I gasped as I felt him enter. "Damn, you're soaking already?" he chuckled, the vibrations of his voice running through me like a jackhammer. He swirled his tongue inside my vulva knowing which spots make me feel good. My legs shaking as he kept exploring my walls.

I felt myself about to release when he stopped. "Wait darling-" He said quickly dropping his pants and boxers revealing his fully erect member. I smiled at the sight of him as he slowly slipped himself inside me making eye contact. He rocked his hips back and forth increasing his speed each time. He quickly grabbed my waist and spun us around so that he's sitting on the couch and I'm on his lap straddling him. His grip on my waist getting tighter and he bounced me up and down continuing to increase his speed making me feel electric. I grabbed onto his hair pulling harder than last time causing him to release a moan. Between my own soft moans I muttered, "I love your moans." only adding fuel to his desire to make me reach climax, increasing his pace even more.

With one hand, he cupped my face and kissed me roughly as I finally reached climax. I let out a loud moan as I released all over him, feeling him release into me seconds later. Nothing but our heavy breathing filling the room. We sat like that for a couple of seconds, catching our breaths. We looked at each other and smiled as I got off of him about to stand before he pulled me back on his lap. I rested my back on his chest, making our sticky, sweaty skin mold us together. He wrapped his arounds around my waist, kissing the back of my head, breathing heavy on my neck. "I love you, princess."

---

A/N

woo, steamy stuff... sorry about the pov change, this was suppose to be fluff but it turned into smut somehow, causing me to accidently changed the pov. I hope you enjoyed it!

[gothyanki]

Kind of getting to the point where I feel like I might have the bandwidth to chatter about my OCs again soon. It’s nice!

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a s/o falling asleep on their lap

The reason I have to post requests like this is because, for some reason, if I post them as Tumblr requests, I can’t find them again when I search for them. Making the masterlist was a real struggle. As usual, I’m using the headcanon to promote my longfic on Arcane, Everytime It Rains.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

It often happens when he spends the evening working instead of giving you attention.

You know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way, so you settle for climbing onto his lap, letting your limbs dangle, and resting your face against his chest.

He stays focused on studying the documents in front of him, but one hand holds your head steady to keep you from losing your balance.

He strokes your hair absentmindedly.

When he notices you’ve fallen asleep, he feels a warmth, a tender sort of affection. He doesn’t want to wake you but wishes he had something to drape over your shoulders.

After a while, it becomes his signal that he’s pushed himself too far with work.

That’s the moment when he lifts your face to kiss you before carrying you to bed.

Viktor:

The classic "working on the couch" position, where you first sit next to him to avoid disturbing him, then drape one leg over his lap, and eventually both. By the end of the evening, you’re fully curled up in his arms.

He holds your side, resting his cheek against your head while continuing to read his notes, basking in the warmth of that shared intimacy.

He asks you several times if you’re tired, and when you don’t respond, he smiles softly, realizing exhaustion has won you over.

He pulls the blanket up to cover you both, and even when you grumble in annoyance at his movements, he chuckles and just says, “Just a second”

He works for another couple of hours but never stops stroking your side or giving you small kisses on the forehead.

Ekko:

“Aw, someone’s sleepy here,” is the first thing he says when you take the overboard from his hands, and let yourself plop into his lap, already wrapped in a blanket like a cape.

He doesn’t even try to go back to what he was doing. Instead, he pulls you close, rubbing his face against yours, taking in your scent.

He loves it—maybe even more than cuddling lying down. He enjoys the weight, the shape of your body, and being able to cradle you.

Because of this, he doesn’t ask if you’d rather lie down; he stays put, ensuring your rest is protected.

It’s only when you’re fully asleep and start shifting to find a more comfortable position that he decides to carry you to bed, staying there with you afterward.

Vander:

I’ll be honest, would.

The underground city is freezing due to the lack of light that filters in, all the glass and steel radiating cold from the outside. That’s why there’s no place more comfortable than this man’s laps.

You usually do it when the bar is still closed, and only a few close friends are inside. When you know he isn’t on the defensive and you won’t slow him down.

He laughs, keeping one hand on your back to support you, and points out to anyone around him that it’s good for you to get a little rest.

If you stay asleep even after the bar opens, he’ll grab a chair and sit it beside him so he can take care of the larger tasks first and then return to you in his lap.

But if it’s the weekend, when things can easily heat up, he’ll delay opening just to get you to bed, give you a kiss, and apologize for leaving you alone.

Silco:

Can we normalize this man as a piece of furniture?

It’s not even about being tired or wanting attention, sometimes it’s just the comfort the situation itself provides.

The way the swivel chair rocks, the vinyl on the record player, the intense, greenish light pouring through the window, and enjoying his delicate fingers in your hair while the entire city stretches out beneath you.

He doesn’t ask why you do it, nor if you want to move. He assumes that if you wanted something different, you would simply ask, so he continues to give you those small attentions endlessly.

He keeps you on the side of his good eye, so he doesn’t have to turn his head to check on you, but can discreetly notice if your expression changes or if you fall asleep.

These are the moments when Sevika knows that no one is supposed to enter his office, so you can have a bit of peace.

Jinx:

She’s always busy, always active, always too loud. Sitting in her lap sometimes seems almost like a necessity to keep her still and focused on just one thing.

“Awwww, my little bug is sleepy?”

She hums while holding you in her arms, one hand still trying to get her projects done.

If too much time passes, she’ll bend her knees and push herself forward, making the swivel chair move in the direction she wants so she can stay occupied while talking to you about whatever crosses her mind.

If she feels your breathing change, that you’re falling asleep, she suddenly freezes, as if to let you rest.

She pulls you closer, caresses you, kisses your temples, and carries you to her little couch.

Vi:

If manhandling were a woman

When you sit on her lap, she treats you like you’re a cat: fine. It will end there.

Does she need to pee? No, she doesn’t anymore.

She can’t disturb you, or you might get up and leave.

But when it starts to become a constant, she’ll cover your back and simply hold you while she does what she needs to do.

If you complain, she’ll kiss you, apologizing and reassuring you that you’ll be back on the sofa soon, asking you to hang on.

She enjoys that closeness, your breath on her skin, the trust in that action.

The moment she sits back down or rests, she’ll shower you with cuddles, even if you’re asleep or pretending to be.

Caytlin:

She’s the one to ask if you want to sit in her lap, worried that she’s neglecting you.

She keeps you with her, even if you’re asleep, supporting you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or lose your balance.

Her biggest fear is not being able to express how much she cares for you, how happy she is to have you there.

The quickest way she knows to do that is through physical contact—the reassuring, warm kind.

“How was your day?” she asks, giving you space to talk and feel seen. She doesn’t want the things she has to do to take away from you, from the two of you.

If she still feels like she’s ignoring you, she’ll ask you to sit on the couch with her to watch a movie, or maybe in bed, cuddled up, just being close.

Mel:

I recognize mommy issues when I see them, and so does she. You’ve been caught.

She welcomes you into her arms almost playfully, gently caressing your hands and arms, speaking softly with her head turned toward you.

She knows it’s the easiest way for you to ask for attention, and she simply accepts it, letting you rest either in her arms or with your head on her lap.

She talks to you about her day, her plans, her worries as if telling you a lullaby, letting you rest on her concerns, including you in her mind so that you don’t feel like a burden.

If you fall asleep, she rests her chin on your shoulder and closes her eyes as well, enjoying a few minutes of peace, trying to sync your breathing together.

Sevika:

You live on the lap of this woman.

When she adjusts her arm, when you eat something on the couch, even at the bar while she plays cards or drinks, you’re always there.

The safest place in the underground city is on the massive legs of a woman with a mechanical arm, and that’s a fact.

Her initial fear, especially in public, was that someone might associate you with her and harm you.

But over time, it’s almost become a flex -you, pretty thing, are hers,

Every now and then, she checks to see if you’re okay, if you want to go to bed, if you’re comfortable, and with her healthy hand, she caresses your cheek while doing so.

At home, she always makes sure to cover you, to keep you close.

She doesn’t even go to bed unless you ask, enjoying the feeling of your body against hers.

[charlieg1rl]

⤜ ˚. ✦ ⸝⸝ ֙⋆ 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ᳝ › 𓈒 ୨.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐰𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲/𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟎.𝟕𝐤

You and Minho had always been close, but it wasn’t supposed to go this far.

It started innocently—late-night texts when you couldn't sleep, his name lighting up your phone just when you needed someone the most. You’d hang out at his apartment, watching movies, sharing takeout, and exchanging sarcastic remarks like the best of friends. The kind of comfort you could only find with someone who knows you inside and out.

One night, though, something shifted. Neither of you spoke about it, didn’t try to name it. Minho’s hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away. You felt the spark that you'd been ignoring for months.

Before either of you could stop it, the tension turned into something more, lips crashing together, hands exploring familiar territory in unfamiliar ways. It was just supposed to be fun, a way to ease the loneliness without all the complications of a relationship. You both agreed—friends with benefits, nothing more.

That arrangement worked for a while. Every time the urge hit, you’d text each other with nothing but a time and location. No strings attached, no emotions, just… sex. But lately, things started feeling different.

You’re lying on Minho’s bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, your hair a mess against his pillows. He’s next to you, one arm lazily draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. The room is dimly lit by the city lights outside, casting soft shadows on his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips.

You can't stop staring at him. You try to tell yourself it’s just the afterglow, that you’re still riding the high, but there’s something else. Something unfamiliar creeping into your chest—a warmth, a desire that isn’t just physical anymore.

“This is dangerous, you know,” you murmur, breaking the silence. You don’t mean the situation itself but the way your feelings are blurring with each encounter.

Minho peeks out from under his arm, one brow raised. “What is?”

“This,” you gesture between the two of you, “us. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

He smirks, rolling onto his side to face you, his fingers tracing light patterns on your arm. “What do you mean? We agreed on the rules, didn’t we?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah, but... rules can change.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even understanding—but Minho being Minho, he just shrugs it off. “You’re overthinking,” he says softly, his fingers moving to your chin, gently turning your face toward his. “This is what we agreed on.”

But the way he looks at you, the intensity in his gaze, tells you that maybe he’s lying to himself, too.

“Sure,” you mutter, but your heart sinks.

As much as you wanted to keep things light, you’re not sure if you can anymore. Each time you’re with him, the lines blur a little more. The kisses linger too long, the cuddles after feel too intimate. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you breaks.

The next time you meet up, it’s different. He’s unusually quiet, eyes lingering on you when he thinks you’re not looking. When he touches you, it’s softer, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

Afterwards, you lie there again, both of you silent, but this time, it feels heavy.

You roll onto your side to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Minho… can I ask you something?”

He opens one eye lazily but doesn’t respond.

“Is this really just fun for you? Or… do you feel something more?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his jaw tightening as if he’s debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, reaching out to brush a stray hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe it’s more complicated than I thought.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. You sit up slightly, searching his face for more, but all you find is that guarded expression he always wears.

But his next words, whispered so softly you almost miss them, make everything clear.

“Maybe I don’t want to just be friends anymore.”

tags: @estella-novella, @therealmsbahng, @amarecerasus, @omgsecretsecret

[damiansgoodgirll]

hey queen, how are you?

can i request something with damian where it’s not really smut but suggestive where he constantly teases reader and she gets all shy please?

i’m better thank you!

damian priest x reader

‼️not smut but very very VERY VERY suggestive

on my knees for you

everyone noticed the sexual tension between you and damian. well, everyone except you. you just thought he was being funny and playful even in his words always left butterflies in your stomach.

it started with him calling you beautiful or, as you preferred, hermosa.

he knew that spanish was making you going crazy and he loved seeing you all red and embarrassed.

everytime there was an event, you would travel together. he would drive if the show was only a few cities away from your town. and car rides with him was something you always loved. he always let you pick the music, he never bothered you if you wanted to sleep and if you were feeling chatting he would always talk to you.

everything seemed so friendly except his body language was betraying him.

the way his hand would lay on your thigh. or the way he would move your hair away from your face if you were sleeping.

he was attracted to you and if he could he would bend you over his car anytime you were together. he knew he had to control this side of him because he didn’t want to lose you.

but as the days and weeks passed, the compliments became a little bit stronger.

from “that dress looks good on you” to “that dress makes me wanna tear it apart and have you naked underneath my body”. from “i can help you with some wrestling moves” to “i can show you some wrestling moves in my bed”.

damian knew he was testing the water but he loved every single moment of it.

and he knew the game was about to began when he saw you entering the gym.

it was late at night and the gym was practically empty except for a few locals.

“hey…good evening or more like, good night” you waved at him when you saw him.

“it would be a good night if you come home with me” he teased and that simple sentence made you weak in the knees.

“dam…”

“what? i could show you some moves that you don’t see me doing here at the gym” he moved closer to you so now you were face to face. he loved teasing you and you knew it.

“oh shut up” you playfully hit him “let’s train cause we have an important match to do”

“we could do that in my bed…”

“damian!” you almost shouted “get your ass here and help me with those weights”

he moved quickly and helped you with the different weights while he was fixing his shoes. he was on his knees with you standing in front of him “i would get on my knees for you every single day you know…” he whispered looking directly into your eyes.

you felt hot.

you were hot.

“dams…get up”

“no seriously…the view down here is spectacular…i wonder how would you look like this but riding my face…” he got closer to you body. you were lucky the only people in the gym were in a different room, leaving you and damian alone.

“damian…would you help me train or not?”

“would you ride my face afterwards?” he asked shamelessly.

“maybe…” you teased back, taking him by surprise he wasn’t used to this side of you.

“and would you let me bend you over on my kitchen table?” he said slowly coming back face to face with you “and would you let me wrap my hands around your throat?” he held eye contact, knowing that you would have looked away “and would you let me make you cum all night long?” he was taken aback when you held eye contact back “and would you let make you mine?”

you were feeling all shaky but you couldn’t show it. you were completely wet as damian was completely hard and you knew you wouldn’t be able to train now.

“damian…what has gotten into you?” you whispered.

“you have no idea for how long i’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy…” he slowly wrapped his hands around your waist. it looked like he was giving you a simple hug but you were feeling his dick pressed between your thighs “i want to taste you and make you cum on my lips and then on my fingers and then on my cock…i wanna see you on all fours for me, your ass up in the air while you’re taking me…i wanna leave your body covered in bites and marks…i wanna let everybody know that you are mine…and i wanna see you choke on my dick while i’m praising you for being a good girl…i wanna see you crying from pleasure and being so cockdrunk that you can’t even think straight…i want you to be a mess for me…and then i wanna take care of you, hold you, make you feel safe and protected, clean you up and shower you with love because that’s what you deserve…and i’m willing to do that if you let me” he whispered into your ear while you were trying your best to not whimper anytime he said something horny.

“fuck…what are you waiting for?” you whispered back and that was enough for him to drag you out of the gym and back to his place.

he was ready to have you at his mercy and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[rippedlovelines]

the merits of the twinyards learning to show their love for each other in slow stilted actions r a lot. for me. to me. little things. aaron buying andrew his favorite sweets because he remembers his picky eating tendencies; andrew throwing a blanket over aaron passed out in the living room after pulling an all-nighter. opening up more during their sessions w bee, angry accusations n cold statements melting into talking abt hurts n what shaped them growing up which becomes even conversation n learning abt each other more ( to bee’s not so small delight.)

the glares n perpetual scowls aaron once wore in andrew presence turn into smth more knowing n relaxed. he thinks one day he’ll be able to forgive andrew for tilda’s death; knowing the reasons behind it now, how andrew did it for his sake. (when he tells andrew that he thought he was going to die, during the days he was locked in that bathroom, his voice is raw. andrew’s face shutters. then, he says in what is possibly the closest thing to regret aaron has ever heard from andrew, “If I could make what you experienced during that time less painful, I would.” n really what’s done is done n there’s no going back, but aaron needed some sort of closure, smth, anything ! so he turns away n tries not to shake from all the emotions of what he’s feeling. andrew sits there n waits for him to return to normal.) andrew begins to make eye contact w aaron, he stops looking thru him—choosing to acknowledge his existence, instead. he sees how aaron is making an effort, clumsily attempting to prove that he isn’t letting andrew go, in spite of everything. (“ I’m not going anywhere. I hate you, but I’m still not going anywhere.” aaron says defiantly during one session where andrew said smth abt aaron going on his merry way after graduation. it shocks andrew. he stills suddenly n it’s v hard for him to look away from aaron’s blazing eyes. “Do what you like.” andrew replies stiffly. it’s acceptance n permission wrapped up in one.)

they learn how to mend the fragments of their broken past so they can both move forward. aaron releasing his resentment of andrew slowly but surely. andrew allowing himself to think of aaron as more than someone who will disappear one day, someone permanent in his life. they talk to each other !!! they meet up to do things—in complete silence sometimes, with small comments here n there in other times. after graduation, andrew goes to play on the east coast while aaron does med school elsewhere. it’s a big change. it’s difficult, often times. aaron will look next to himself with words on the tip of his tongue, then realize andrew is not around. andrew will look behind him as he traverses the streets of nyc, hand outstretched as tho to hold onto smth, a shirt perhaps, forgetting that aaron is not there.

But!!!

the two of them call each other once a year,month, week— the occurrences gradually becoming more n more frequent. 3 years pass by. andrew is in town for a game. afterwards, he meets up w aaron for a drink. it’s quiet. not uncomfortable. they take each other in n note how separation n time away has made the other different. aaron is in a good mood , hair shaved close down, face full, n nothing like the raggedy n hollowed boy andrew met years ago. aaron in turn observes how andrew’s eyes r half-lidded w smth one would call happiness if it were anyone else, but it’s js content for andrew; his arms tattooed beneath his armbands, n a looseness to his shoulders that aaron could not have ever believed andrew to posses once upon a time. after some small talk n a small congratulations from aaron for andrew’s team win, andrew slips a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket n shoves it at aaron, face blank. it’s a new team contract. it’s in the same city as aaron’s med school :) aaron decidedly does not smile, but sources say his lips quirked up a bit. they order cheesecake. everything is fine. they r brothers. they walk out together.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 16: CUPID'S CHOKEHOLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to a head.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of pregnancy, angst, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, riding, teasing, light degradation, dacryphilia, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 8.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy thanksgiving yall can stop threatening me with bombs now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2011

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you lead Megumi and Tsumiki down the bustling street. Christmas decorations twinkle in shop windows. You pull your scarf tighter, glancing back to make sure the children are keeping up.

Megumi trudges along, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression as serious as ever. Tsumiki, by contrast, practically skips beside you, her eyes wide with wonder at the festive displays. They both wear matching blushes, the cold painting their pale cheeks the same roseate pink.

"Can we get taiyaki?" Tsumiki asks, tugging on your sleeve and pointing to a small shop ahead.

You smile down at her. "Of course. What about you, Megumi? What would you like?"

The boy shrugs, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Whatever's fine."

You lead them into the warmth of the taiyaki shop, the sweet aroma of red bean paste and custard filling the air. As you wait in line, you crouch down to Megumi's level.

"You know," you say softly, ruffling his hair, "it's okay to want things, Megumi. To have preferences. You don't always have to go along with what everyone else wants."

He looks at you, surprise flashing across his face before his usual stoic expression returns. "I... I like the chocolate ones," he admits quietly.

You scratch his head affectionately. "Chocolate it is, then."

You place your order - custard for Tsumiki, chocolate for Megumi, and red bean for yourself. Afterwards, you find a bench in a nearby park to enjoy your treats. Tsumiki chatters away about her upcoming school play, while Megumi listens intently, occasionally nodding or offering a quiet comment.

"You’re gonna stay with us for the holidays, right? Are you gonna move in?" Tsumiki asks suddenly, her voice hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, and you fumble for an answer. "Um, yeah, I will. Stay, that is. And you guys know you can always just knock on my door downstairs."

You’d agreed to stay until the semester ended in the spring. You’d been around for a little over a month, but you already had your doubts about going back to Kyoto. Already, you found yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning while in Tokyo, seasonal depression be damned. You tell yourself it’s not because of the white-haired sorcerer that occupies your thoughts constantly — it’s the familiarity of the city. And the kids, of course.

To both Tsumiki and Satoru’s dismay (and a slight frown from Megumi), you decided to take the offer of an apartment the floor below them. It wasn’t exactly vacant, as Satoru claimed — the previous tenant, a well-off socialite of some sort, needed a sublet. You needed your own space from Satoru for your own sanity, and he was willing to pay the rent for the allotted time you could be there.

Tsumiki pouts. “But it’s easier if you just live in our apartment!”

“I can’t do that since you’ve converted the spare room into yours with all your dolls laying around,” you snort. Tsumiki opens her mouth to protest but decides against it, considering you have a point.

“Hmph. Still. You can sleep in Satoru’s room, right? It’s so big!”

Your face nearly pales at the suggestion, ironically. As if it was something scandalous, which perhaps it would be considering your complicated relationship. You’re sure he’d be thrilled if you brought it up.

Megumi looks up at you, his green eyes serious. "We like having you here," he says softly. "Satoru-san is... different when you're around. Better."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "Better?"

Tsumiki nods enthusiastically. "He smiles more! And he doesn't forget to make breakfast as much."

You chuckle, imagining Satoru's indignant expression if he could hear this conversation. "Well, I'm glad I can help. But Satoru cares about you both very much, you know."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a photo attachment from him. There’s a boiling pot of… something, on the stove.

satoru: you guys aren’t going to leave me to eat by myself, are you????? ^-^

you: we’ll be home soon. the kids wanted taiyaki

satoru: don’t help them spoil their dinner :(

you: it’s probably more edible than what you’re making

satoru: :( say that to my face at least :(

You chuckle, locking your phone. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get home before Satoru burns down the kitchen.”

As you walk back home with Megumi and Tsumiki, their words echo in your mind. The realization that you've become such an integral part of their lives fills you with a trepidation, but also tenderness. You've been careful not to overstep, to maintain some semblance of boundaries, but the lines have been blurring more and more each day.

The apartment is warm and inviting when you return, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You help the kids out of their winter gear, hanging up coats and scarves as they rush to see what Satoru is cooking.

You follow more slowly, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Satoru stands at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's wearing the ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron you bought him as a joke for his birthday. 

Satoru looks up, catching your eye. His face breaks into a warm smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat.

"Welcome home," he says softly. “Did you guys have fun?”

Tsumiki launches into an excited recounting of your afternoon, while Megumi nods along, occasionally adding a quiet comment. Satoru listens attentively, his expression softening as he watches the children.

You move into the kitchen, drawn by the warmth and the tantalizing aroma. "What's for dinner?" you ask, peering into the pot.

"Curry," Satoru announces proudly. "My specialty."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Since when is curry your specialty?"

He grins, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "Since I found your recipe book and followed the instructions very, very carefully."

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You playfully push him away, ignoring the knowing look Tsumiki gives you.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation flows easily. Megumi talks about a new technique he's been practicing, while Tsumiki regales you with tales from her drama club. Satoru watches it all with a contented smile, occasionally catching your eye across the table.

Later, after the kids have gone to bed, you find yourself alone with Satoru in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you absently run your fingers through his hair.

Satoru stretches languidly, cat-like. The movement causes his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing his stomach. You force yourself to look away, busying yourself with whatever’s on the television.

“So," Satoru says, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want for Christmas?"

You look down to face him, scoffing. "Who says I'm expecting anything from you?"

He grins that cocky, infuriating grin that still makes your stomach flip. "Come on, Twigs. There must be something you want."

“Haven’t really thought about it.

“C’mon. You must have.”

You weigh your words carefully. "How about... a nice, quiet evening, where you don’t bother me with your bullshit?"

Satoru laughs, his blue eyes warm as he regards you. "I think that can be arranged," he says softly.

He gets closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that you find yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low, "the kids were asking me the other day if you were going to be their new mom."

Your breath catches in your throat. You narrow your eyes. "That’s not funny."

“What? Their words, not mine.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Satoru, we've talked about this. We can't just jump into playing house. It's not fair to the kids."

He sits up, his expression suddenly serious. "I know. But... is it so crazy to think about? Us, together, raising them? I mean, we’ve already been doing it, basically, right?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you. You can feel your heart racing, a mix of longing and fear swirling in your chest.

"It's not crazy," you admit softly. "But it's complicated. We have a lot of history, Satoru. A lot of things we still need to work through. Also, you’re freshly twenty-two. That’s hardly the age to be a considered a guardian."

“But I am their guardian!” he frowns. “And your mom’s pretty young. Didn’t she have you around our age?”

“That’s not even — we’re going off topic. This isn’t about me having a kid,” you blush, the brief thought of mothering a child of your own with Satoru send a brief shock to your chest. “Just relax, okay? Take things slow.”

Satoru intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Slow," he agrees. "I can do slow."

But even as he says it, you can see the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But just so you know, I'm not very good at being patient."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gojo Satoru."

He grins, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "Can you blame me? Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your thigh. "Satoru," you warn, but there's no real heat behind it.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm behaving. This is me behaving."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quips, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver at the contact, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "The kids," you remind him weakly.

"Are fast asleep," he murmurs against your skin. "And I can be very, very quiet when I need to be."

“Speaking of asleep,” you say quickly, leaning away. “That’s exactly what I need to be right now.”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a whine, which you would rebuke more efficiently if the sound didn’t make heat settle in the pit of your stomach.

“You still didn’t give me my birthday present,” he murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness in his gaze.

“I didn’t say I’d fuck you.”

“You kind of did,” he pouts.

“You’re still on that, huh? I was teasing you. And drunk.”

The last time you’d went out for drinks with him and Shoko, you’d gone home with him in a good mood, apparently good enough to let him be handsy. He took whatever crumbs he could get from you, played the part of a good dog after he had a few fruity cocktails. You let him kiss you on the side of your mouth and you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Even if he’d shut up, the puppy-dog looks he’d throw you would push you over the edge.

“You tease me every damn day by existing. I should banish you.”

“Right. Like you’d survive more time apart from me,” you snort.

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes. “I love you too much.”

You meet his gaze, face warming at the casualness of his declaration. This is Satoru stripped bare, all his walls down, offering you his heart. It’s still something you’re not used to — the way he gives affection so easily. He always had, of course, but never so candid in sincerity.

It made you sick almost, like being sugar-drunk on something much too decadent. Humiliated you with how warm it made you, your tongue heavy as lead in your mouth like a teenager again.

“Oh?” Satoru grins. “Did that get you going?”

“No. Shut up.”

“You like that. Noted.”

You scoff, rising from the couch. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” he calls after you. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, weirdo,” you huff, trudging your feet towards the door. You pause as you touch the doorknob before turning around. “I love you too.”

You leave too quickly to gauge his reaction, but you feel his smile burn into the back of your neck.

__

You come home to Jiji rubbing his head against your shin. He was still small — a runt, resembling more like a soot sprite than the Ghibli cat he was named after. He acted a lot like Megumi, truthfully. Clung to you, bombarded your space especially if Satoru was around.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, scooping the cat from the floor to nuzzle. “You miss the kids, don’t you?”

He mews at you as if to say yes and you grin. You make your way upstairs, Jiji’s head tucked in your shoulder as you unlock Satoru’s apartment with your spare key.

Satoru is already in the kitchen, hair tousled from the day’s mission. His eyes light up when he sees you walk in. “Twigs! Ready for Operation Birthday Boy?” he grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you can greet him properly, your gaze drifts over the amount of balloons and streamers haphazardly aligning the walls. Many are Digimon-themed, despite knowing full well that Megumi preferred Pokemon, but that isn’t an argument that was worth having with Satoru unless you wanted him to revert to his child-self.

“You… went all out,” you mutter, still examining the expanse of the living room. There were streamers every color under the sun strung around, comically bright in contrast with the luxury apartments plain white walls.

The smell of cake batter and melting chocolate permeates through the air. You notice then as you step closer towards Satoru that the Italian marble of the kitchen island is dusted with flour. You groan.

“Satoru, I thought we were picking up a cake—”

“But a homemade one has more love!” he scoffs. He’s made a mess of his apron, not to mention there was a streak of pink frosting on his cheekbone.

“And who said you were qualified enough to bake?”

“Hey! I’m trying here! And don’t worry, I’m not making dinner, obviously. We still have to pick up the hors d’oeuvres from the catering place—”

“What? We’re celebrating a nine-year-old.”

“You get expensive taste when you live with me,” he shrugs. “You like oysters, right? I heard it’s a really good aphrodisiac— ow!”

He flinches when you flick him in the forehead. He pouts, rubbing his head as if you’d actually inflicted damage on him.

“The hell was that for?”

You ignore his question. “Where are the kids? It’s like… dinner time. School should be out by now.”

“I told Shoko to pick them up and stall. I’m still preparing.”

“Satoru — seriously? You decided to make the cake right before we celebrate?”

“It won’t take long! This is a state-of-the-art oven for your information!” Satoru scoffs, rinsing his hands in the sink. The amount of flour on the marble of the island makes you cringe. And was that… an egg yolk stain in the corner?

“That doesn’t mean—”

The oven beeps as if to taunt you. Satoru grins, putting on oven mitts that are comically too small for him to take out the cake. It’s certainly cake-shaped despite the lumpy bubbles on top.

“Wanna help me decorate the cake for the birthday boy?”

You move in front of him, shooing him away. He pouts again, the expression making you want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him, and hands you a butter knife and a tub of mint green frosting.

“Go crazy, Twigs,” he sighs. “I should shower anyway.”

You take the time to meticulously cover the entirety of the chocolate cake in the frosting, with Happy Birthday, Megumi! in loopy script in the middle. You’re quick to clean the rest of the kitchen, still reeling from how much of a mess Satoru managed to make in your absence.

By the time Satoru emerges from his bedroom, the kitchen is mostly clean, and he steps into the room in a crisp baby-blue dress shirt and black slacks. You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly at the sight of it. It was your favorite outfit on him and he probably wore it knowing that. You huff lightly, looking away.

You gain reprieve from his teasing when you hear the door open. More balloons float into the room, all bound in Tsumiki’s small hand as she walks in with Shoko and Megumi.

“Happy birthday, Megumi-kun!” you exclaim in glee, walking towards him for a hug. He smiles brightly, blushing as he hugs you back.

Satoru notices the takeout boxes in Shoko’s hands and raises a brow. “You took them to eat dinner already?”

“Obviously. They definitely weren’t going to eat the foie gras you ordered or whatever the fuck,” she snorts. “But more for the adults, eh?”

“Can you not swear around them –”

“I knew the word fuck before!” Tsumiki beams. You share an exasperated look with Satoru, but he’s only holding in a laugh.

As Shoko and Satoru get the kids settled, you lock Jiji in the spare room to prevent Megumi’s Divine dogs from chasing the poor thing. They were all bared teeth, bright eyes. Still puppies, still young like the kids. 

Afterwards, you return to the living room just in time for Satoru to bring out the cake with pastel lit candles atop of it.

Megumi is quiet as everyone shrouds him, gazing at the birthday cake like he’s never seen one before. He hasn’t really — maybe he did when his parents were still together and alive and didn’t fuck off to somewhere else, he doesn’t know — but even he did, he wouldn’t remember. He had only known shared dandelion wishes with Tsumiki, fuzzy memories of Toji patting his head when on his sixth birthday.

You look at him now and you see a child who doesn’t know what to do with all the love surrounding him, and the sight reminds you of yourself.

“Make a wish, Megumi,” you say softly. He looks up at you with wide eyes as if making a wish were to make a sacrifice. He closes his eyes and blows the candles out, smiling softly as everyone claps.

You lean back on the couch as you watch him unwrap his presents, which include an abundance of hastily-wrapped boxes from Satoru. Toya and electronics that the kid probably haven’t dreamt of owning. Satoru was still young in his own right and it showed in his animated way of speaking, excitedly presenting his gifts to Megumi like he was an older brother. Your chest feels uncharacteristically warm as you watch.

You, Satoru, and Shoko watch as the kids play amongst themselves, indulging yourselves in the catering that Satoru had bought, which was more of a luxury takeout order more than anything. The bottle of wine that Shoko had brought makes you able to tolerate Satoru’s antics. You refuse to admit to him, but you even find him endearing tonight.

After the ordeal, Shoko hugs you and departs to her own apartment, while Satoru entertains the kids with a new video game console he’d bought for Megumi. After cleaning, Satoru insists in you joining, which results in many competitive games of Super Street Fighter IV.

Tsumiki is the first to doze off on the couch, her head cradled in your lap as you stroke her hair gently.

“Hey, kid,” Satoru whispers to Megumi, “Looks like your sister’s knocked out. It’s about time for bed, don’t ya think?”

“But I wanted to play more Final Fantasy!” Megumi whines.

“We can play some more tomorrow,” you quip. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he pouts, taking your hand as you lead him to his bedroom.

Satoru is lounging on the couch once you return, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a good mom.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Told you we’re not playing house, Satoru,” you scoff, slumping your body into the couch next him.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m just complimenting your ability to rein in some brats.”

“Had a lot of practice from you.”

He laughs.

You glance at him, noticing his mussed-up hair, the soft wrinkles of his button-down. He looked more grown-up than he meant to be. It wasn’t that Satoru looked particularly mature, but seeing him slightly disheveled after handling Megumi’s birthday made him look older than how you’d seen him in earlier years — childish, boyish. In the light of the dim lamp beside him, he looked like a man with responsibilities.

It was like seeing him in the future. But you’re here now, in his apartment, in the present, and the sight of him looking so domestic is doing awful things to your heart.

“You’re… really good with them, too, you know. You don’t really need me,” you murmur.

“Huh?” Satoru raises his brows. “No. Of course I need you.”

You almost blush at that. You’re glad for the wine that he’s given you, relaxing your muscles, giving you an excuse for the flush in your cheeks.

“You can do it on your own, though,” you say softly. “You’re just… better at this than I thought you’d be. It’s admirable. That’s all.”

His gaze softens. “Thanks, Twigs. That means a lot.”

He looks at you then, almost amused, as if the concept of a compliment from you had been completely unheard of. As if the notion alone made him flattered enough to forget humility. (Though, you’re sure the prodigal Satoru Gojo has never known humility.)

“So you’re praising me, then? Do I win best babysitter of the year?” he chuckles.

“Sure. Whatever,” you snort. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Oh, but I must. You think I’m a complete disaster usually, but you’re telling me I was good with the kids tonight? My head is huge, Twigs.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. Trying to hide the way your stomach feels hotter when you look at him and his charming grin. He looks back at you with an expression that makes your pulse go faster.

“You’re cute.”

You blink at him. His voice is heady and husky, his gaze soft. Tentative as he leans in, clearly wary that he’d spook you by crossing the invisible line you’ve set since you decided to move back to Tokyo.

“Speechless, baby?” he drawls. “I didn’t even try hard at flirting this time.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, paying more attention to your glass of wine. “You’re hardly seducing me right now.”

“Never said I was trying to,” he murmurs, leaning into you. His hand is on your knee and you don’t swat him away, for once. In his mind, this is progress.

“But you’re always trying to.” You narrow your eyes.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice like warm honey. “Mm. Am not.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed now.” You rise from the couch, but Satoru catches your wrist in his large, pale hand. You look at him with a brow raised.

“Sleep here tonight?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please? I won’t try anything.”

You contemplate. You aren’t truly at the brink of exhaustion, but the demands Yaga-sensei made of you at school had started to become one of your main stressors. You’re tired. You definitely don’t feel like going downstairs to your own apartment, Jiji in hand, having to clean up the mess in your own space that you ignored in lieu of preparing for Megumi’s birthday.

You swallow, clenching your jaw. “Fine. I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

Satoru smiles wide, flashing his white teeth. Angel-headed under the soft glow of the lamp. You have to look away before your stomach stirs with something you’ll ruminate over.

“Stay in my bed?”

“Satoru—”

“Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. Also, the spare room is a mess. The kids made a blanket fort in there last night that is yet to be deconstructed.”

“Okay. Whatever,” you mutter, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up. Afterwards, you return to Jiji and scoop him up in your arms, pleased at the way the cat nuzzles into your face.

You step into Satoru's bedroom, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The bed is enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that look almost too pristine to touch. It smells faintly of him—clean, like fresh linen and a hint of something sharp and sweet, like cedarwood mixed with sugar. You’re already regretting this decision, though perhaps not entirely for the reasons you’d like to admit.

You undress and change into one of his t-shirts before crawling into his bed. Satoru follows you in shortly after, pausing in the doorway with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” he begins, leaning casually against the frame as he folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t think my birthday present would be you gracing me with your presence in my bed tonight, but honestly? Best gift ever.”

You glare at him from over your shoulder as you set Jiji down on the floor. The little cat immediately darts under Satoru’s bed for refuge—likely avoiding any further encounters with Megumi’s Divine dogs, or perhaps the bubbling conflict in the room itself.

“Your birthday was weeks ago. Don’t push your luck,” you warn flatly. “I gave in because I’m tired. This isn’t some… romantic gesture.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases, taking a few steps closer until he towers over you. His voice drops to a playful murmur as he gleefully adds, “But it could be.”

You groan audibly and climb onto the far side of the bed—intentionally as far away from him as possible—and tug the edge of the comforter over yourself without sparing him another glance. "Goodnight, Satoru."

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling off his socks and tossing them carelessly across the room. He casually strips off his shirt and pants, throwing them somewhere near the hamper – not inside it, of course – before flopping down beside you like a content cat. He stretches out languidly, one arm tucked behind his head as he turns to watch you. You try not to dwell on the fact that he’s beside you, only in his boxers.

The room falls quiet save for the soft hum of the heater kicking on and Jiji occasionally rustling beneath the bed. You shut your eyes tightly and try to relax, but there’s no ignoring how aware you are of Satoru's presence beside you—the way his breathing evens out gradually or how his arm brushes yours when he shifts.

Minutes pass in silence before he finally speaks again, his voice softer this time—devoid of its usual teasing edge. “You really think I’m good with them? Megumi and Tsumiki?”

You open your eyes but don’t immediately respond. There’s something vulnerable about his tone that catches you off guard—a rare glimpse at the pieces of himself he so often keeps hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly after a pause. Turning your head slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you add honestly, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

He turns his head toward you now too, studying you intently. For a second, neither of you speak. His gaze holds yours long enough for your chest to tighten uncomfortably under its weight.

“You’re good for them too,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. His voice has lost all pretense now—it’s raw and earnest in a way that has always made you feel unsteady around him. "For us."

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls over you both, but you can still feel Satoru’s begging eyes boring into your skull. You look over to him and it feels like his blue eyes are glowing in the dark. He strips his gaze from you and looks up at the ceiling instead, feigning a casual demeanor.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension. You can feel the heat radiating from Satoru's body, achingly close yet still too far. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, are dark and intense as they roam over your face.

"Twigs," he murmurs, his voice low. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. In the dim light, his eyes are impossibly blue, gleaming with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

"I meant what I said," Satoru continues, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're good for us. For me."

He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. You can feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leans in.

You swallow hard. "Satoru," you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

He sighs but leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Please."

You know you should push him away. You know this is dangerous territory, that you're teetering on the edge of something irreversible. You’re too stubborn for your own good, both you and Satoru know this. It’s why you curl into his chest instead of pressing your mouth to his. The fear of falling into his charm is futile, especially with how much you want him, frustratingly so.

Satoru's hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, it occurs to you how close you are to him, how intimate this feels. The air between you feels charged, electric.

He says your name, this time, bedroom-soft. Not Twigs, not baby, but your name.

Instead of shying away as you normally might, something shifts inside you. Maybe it's the wine from earlier, or the vulnerability in Satoru's voice, or simply the culmination of months of unresolved tension. Whatever it is, it emboldens you.

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to head. When you hear the way Satoru says your name, you decide that you need catharsis.

In one fluid motion, you grab Satoru’s wrist, pinning it above his head as you roll on top of him. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Is this what you want, Satoru?" you breathe, your face inches from his. "Is this why you've been pushing so hard?"

"W-what are you doing?" he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

Your free hand trails down his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against the skin of his bare chest. Satoru shudders beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel his heart racing, see the flush creeping up his neck under the pale moonlight.

"You talk a big game," you murmur. "But can you handle it when someone else takes control?"

Satoru swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Try me," he challenges, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays his nervousness.

You pull back, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile. Slowly, deliberately, you grind your hips against his, eliciting a low moan from Satoru. His free hand moves to grip your waist, but you catch it, pinning both his wrists above his head.

"No,” you chastise. "No touching unless I say so."

Satoru's eyes darken with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're killing me, Twigs," he groans.

"Good," you purr, leaning down to nip his jaw. 

You take your time exploring his body with your hands, savoring every gasp and shudder you draw from him as if it’s the first time you’ve touched him. Satoru writhes beneath you, struggling against your grip, desperate for more contact. But you maintain control, setting a torturously slow pace that has him practically begging.

"Please," he whimpers, his usual cockiness completely shattered. "I need you."

You smile against his skin, enjoying this newfound power. You scoff. "I thought you said you could do slow?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow. "That was before I knew how evil you could be."

"Evil?" you chuckle, trailing your fingers down his chest. "I'm barely taunting you. If anything, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Besides, I thought you liked it when I took charge."

Satoru shivers beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I do," he admits, his voice strained. "God, I do."

You smile, a predatory glint in your eyes as you slowly grind against him. The friction draws a low moan from Satoru, his hips bucking up involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your core, your heat against his cock with only two layers of fabric separating him from what he truly wants.

You tsk, pressing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

"Stay still," you command. "Or I'll stop altogether."

With deliberate slowness, you trail your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. Satoru's breathing grows ragged as your hand dips lower, tracing the V of his hips before stopping just short of where he wants – no, needs you most.

"Twigs," he groans, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop teasing."

You laugh, nipping at his collarbone. "But you make it so fun, Satoru."

Your free hand ghosts over the front of his boxers, barely applying pressure. Satoru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but you pull away with a wicked grin.

“I told you I’d stop if you misbehave.”

Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of desire and defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. Slowly, you begin to pull away, but Satoru's words tumble out in a rush.

"Wait!” he gasps, panicked. “I'm sorry, I'll be good. Please, don't stop."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through you. You've never seen Satoru like this - completely at your mercy, his usual bravado stripped away. Even in the dark, his eyes usually glow aquamarine, but right now pools of onyx stare back at you underneath heavy white lashes.

"That's better," you murmur, rewarding him with a slow, sensual kiss. He whines into it, licks into your mouth like he’s begging you to eat him whole. 

You take your time with him mapping every dip and curve of his upper body with your lips and tongue. Satoru writhes beneath you, soft whimpers escaping him as you lavish attention on his most sensitive spots.

When you finally free him from his boxers, Satoru lets out a sigh of relief. But instead of giving him what he wants, you continue your slow pace, placing feather-light kisses along his inner thighs. He huffs when you press his thumb against his leaking slit, while you look at him with a grin as you apply pressure.

“You have such a pretty cock, Satoru.”

His face gets even warmer, if that was possible. “Sh-shut up–”

You raise your brows. “What was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes widen aa your mean expression. "N-Nothing! I’m sorry. Just – please," Satoru begs, his voice hoarse. "I need you. I need—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. The kids are sleeping, remember? We wouldn't want to wake them, would we?"

Satoru's breath hitches at the reminder, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan as he watches you spit on his cock, finally wrapping your hand around him. You set a maddeningly slow rhythm, watching with satisfaction as Satoru struggles to keep quiet. Your mouth grazes him, only barely. He needs you around him, completely. His cock is fucking aching for it.

A whine escapes Satoru's throat, his hips jerking upward. "Twigs, please. I can't— I need—"

Cruelly, you cover his mouth with your palm. You have half the mind to gag him. You’re tempted to, really, but you’ve already slipped off your panties and thrown them somewhere across the room.

“Baby—”

“Stop fucking talking,” you hiss, your hand around his throat. He gasps, looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Mouth parted. Lovestruck. “Be good.”

He complies, whimpering softly instead of pleading with useless words. You watch his eyes roll back as your hand moves from his shaft to his tip, your spit lubricating his twitching cock along with the precum collecting at the top.

You savor the power you hold over him, watching his chest heave with each labored breath. Satoru's usual cockiness has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable and needy beneath you. It's intoxicating.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut with the effort of staying quiet. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. You release his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest as you position yourself above him.

"Look at me," you command softly.

Satoru's eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. His hands graze your waist tentatively, smoothing over the soft skin over your ribs underneath the t-shirt (his t-shirt) that clings loosely to your frame.

He can almost feel how wet you are, he swears it. His Six Eyes can see everything from the tremble of your pulse, sensing how much your desires are waiting to jump out of your skin. The wetness of your pink mouth. He feels delirious with want, deluded, maybe, just from the intensity of his senses as he takes in your presence.

He could be hallucinating how intense it all really is. He isn’t sure — he’s too drunk on the fact that you’re in his lap at all, partially bare. Your bare cunt hovering over his cock. Taunting. Fucking tease. If he wanted, he could flip you over and restrain you. Have your hands yanked to your lower back, make you yelp like a slut.

But he doesn’t. He’s already a mess for you, no matter what you intend to do to him. He knows there’s something so awful inside of him that’s waiting to crawl out something only you can coax out.

When you look at him with moonlight reflecting in your pupils, the desire overtakes him. Despite himself, he rises him to meet your mouth, desperate for a kiss or any semblance of one, but your hand tightens around his throat. He moans at the pressure of it and blushes, embarrassed. He whines.

“Ha. Nice try. You’re so fucking eager, huh? Missed me that much?” you taunt. It’s cruel and you know it. You’ve known how much he’s wanted you — you’ve defied it when he’s been too candid about it. And now, while his heart is on his sleeve with your name in the center, you tease him.

He would take you over his knee for it if he wasn’t fucking melting underneath you.

“Of course I missed you,” Satoru grits.

“Oooh, so feisty. You look like an angry dog, you know that?” you sneer.

“Belittle me all you want,” he narrows his eyes, “Just let me — fuck —”

He perks up his head and tries to kiss you but you reject him. He has to stifle a groan. His resolve is crumbling into nothingness.

“Please fuck me,” he gasps. “Or just kiss me. Do anything you want. I just — I don’t care. I need you —”

Satoru writhes against the bedsheets. Grits his teeth, baring his canines like a dog ready to fight. But you’re as gentle as you are evil, able to weaken his efforts just by the slight tilt of your plump mouth. A knowing smirk.

“You need me?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Need you. Only you —”

You spit and he watches the drool cascade down to his aching cock. His eyes widen, mesmerized and choked up as you stroke him. He shudders, body arching towards you at the contact.

“Oh, fuck—” he breathes, unable to form words. Your hand feels better than his own. The warmth of your body above him makes his blood sing.

He pants pathetically as you grin down at him with wolf-teeth. He could cry from your touch alone.

"Relax," you breathe, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "I'll give you what you need."

“Can’t relax — need — ah!” he whimpers. “Please, please —”

“Are you begging?” you taunt, laughing.

“Yes!” he groans.

You hold his gaze as you slowly sink down onto him, savoring the stretch and fullness. A strangled sound escapes him, quickly muffled as he bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

You roll your hips carefully, rising and falling with agonizing slowness. Satoru's hips twitch upwards, seeking more, but you pin them down firmly. Your movements are languid as you relish each tiny gasp and stifled moan you draw from him.

You gradually increase your speed, grinding down harder with each thrust. Satoru's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving. You can feel him getting close, see it in the tension of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

Just as he's about to fall over the edge, you slow to a stop. Satoru lets out a frustrated whine, cut off as you press your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

"Not yet," you murmur against his mouth. "I'm not done with you."

“I’m so — fuck,” he slurs, “So close —”

“That’s too bad. Fucking wait.”

His cock throbs at your tone. Your face is calm, tauntingly so, but your voice is cutting with authority.

“God, if I wasn’t so in love with you right now I’d be giving you the worst spanking you’ve ever—” You cut Satoru off, shoving your fingers in his mouth. His eyes roll back immediately, gagging, and you laugh cruelly.

“Oh, you love that. You little slut.”

He moans at the degradation, bucks his hips up in attempt to meet your core again. His large hands are around your waist, trembling as they press in with a bruising grip. You remove your fingers from his mouth, using both your hands to pry off his hands and pin them next to his head. 

“Hey,” you warn, talking to him as if he’s a bad dog. “Told you to be good. Hands up here until I say so, Satoru.”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes, trying not to whine. His hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm the lion heart beating out of his chest while his body is forced into submission by the girl he’s always had power over. 

He stills his body despite himself, though his dick still aches in anticipation. He’s trying to be good for you. The best. 

You lean over to bite at his nipple and he gasps. The role-reversal was dizzying, particularly because you were using his own tricks against him. He feels like he might lose his mind.

“Stop– stop that–” he rasps.

“Why should I? I know you like it. You like when I play with you.”

“I– I–”

“You’d love it if I just used you, right? You want me so much you’d let me touch you in any way, any time of the day. Am I wrong?” You lift your head to meet his gaze, lifting your brow.

He flushes with embarrassment, stomach flipping at your words. “N-No,” he mumbles. 

“That’s what I thought, baby,” you chuckle. Your nails run through his undercut and he sighs in satisfaction, looking at you through wet eyes. 

“I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he simpers. “Please, just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good —”

“Oh? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes —”

“Mm. Wanna keep playing with you. Lay your head on the pillow properly for me, Satoru.” He obeys you without question, eyes half-lidded with lust as he awaits further instruction. There’s a stupor in his face, dumb with love. He’d do anything you asked. 

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, pleased at his obedience – you’ve never seen him so desperate, despite knowing he wasn’t above begging. Even before, you’d give in, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. But this — this was entirely new territory. Satoru Gojo was being reduced to tears.

You climb over to him, cunt above his neck. His eyes are blown out, wet as his mouth. 

“You want a taste?”

He nods eagerly, too quickly, too possessed by desire to be embarrassed about it anymore. He wanted you any way he could have you.

You sink down to his mouth and the groan he lets out is louder than you expect.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “Keep it down.”

He whines, lapping at your pussy sloppily. You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble as you try to stay upright, knuckles straining against the top of his headboard. At the same time, he uses the opportunity to squeeze the plushness of your ass – something you’d admonish him for if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh,” you moan out softly, “That’s so good. Just like that, Satoru —”

He moans, his mouth leaking with his own drool and your arousal. It was a treat for him – you never liked sitting on his face for some reason, always blushed when he’d suggest it. But now, he was getting what he wanted. You were throwing him a bone. 

Satoru wants desperately to fist his cock, relieve the ache inside him that keeps building when he hears you whimper, but his hands are too preoccupied with touching you everywhere else. Your ass, your waist, the softness of your breasts underneath your t-shirt. His girl in the palm of his hand.

Your nails scratch his scalp, pulling on the strands of his hair as you grind on his face. Smearing yourself all over him. “Close–”

He doubles down on his efforts and all of it makes you see stars – supernovas clashing together in the fuzzy black behind your eyelids. You have to cover your mouth to keep down the sound of your moan.

His hands are squeezing your thighs. You yelp, overstimulated as his mouth latches onto your clit with no intention of letting go despite your orgasm.

“Satoru, no — no more —”

You roll off of him, ass tumbling onto his torso as he holds you upright. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, kissing you hard. You don’t have a chance to breathe before he does it, but you don’t care — your pussy drips in his lap as he maneuvers you straddle him properly, mouth moaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to be full of him.

You push him off you, pinning him to the bed as your cunt swallows his cock. You wince at the stretch after not taking him for so long, but the resistance quickly disappears from how turned on you are. You’re so overly sensitive from your orgasm that his tip hits your g-spot immediately, stimulation to the max as you grind on him at an angle that brings pressure to your insides. 

“Holy fuck –” Satoru gasps, hands on your hips in a vice grip.

He’s determined to take back any semblance of control, but he fucking loses it at the feeling of being inside you after months and months of a dry spell. You were better than any of his wet dreams. 

He bites his lip in attempt to suppress his whines, hands encouraging the roll of your hips as you grind down on his cock. He loves being used by you, fucked dumb and marvelling at the warmth of your skin on his. He lifts up your t-shirt and you let him pull it off you.

You look down and see puppy-dog eyes gazing at you spilling with tears of pleasure. Angel boy. 

You don’t give him a warning when you finish like you have in the past. It crashes into you, a collision of ecstasy. Months of denying him from your bed and your brain made you forget that he was your very best. Your first and perhaps your last. 

The thought takes the breath out of your lungs. In a moment of lucidity, you look at Satoru full-on, your lust-filled haze clearing to see him fully in adoration. Tears streaming down his cheeks, love painted all over his face.

He hiccups, whimpering. “Baby, I’m close – fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it! P-Please, can I —”

You shut him up with a kiss. “Come for me, Satoru,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

His eyes widen. He’s about to gasp out a reply but he’s so overwhelmed by your words, the impossible warmth of your cunt sucking him in.

“I love you so much,” you coo, hips gyrating in tandem with his hands guiding you. “You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Then go ahead and come for me, baby.”

“Ah – fuck –” Satoru feels his mouth part involuntarily, letting out the ghost of a moan as he chokes up. The ache in his body bursts into sparks, his cum filling you up to the brim as his orgasm plundered through him. 

His legs are shaking.

His comedown is all erratic breaths, small gasps as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed. He whimpers as he lifts his head to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your warm flesh before you allow him to kiss you tenderly. 

He mumbles something against your mouth that you don’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You attempt to pull away and he whines like a child. You kiss him again and he deepens it, fingers gathering the hair at your nape.

“Letsgetmarried,” he mutters into your jaw.

“What?”

“What?”

You pull back, staring at him with an amused grin. “Did you just propose to me?”

Satoru stares back at you, his snowy hair sticking out haphazardly. “Maybe. Yes. Like, yes, but also no.”

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he slurs. “You fucked me too good. I wanna buy you a house.”

You burst into laughter and pet his head. “You don’t need to do that. You already pay my rent.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. Cradles you to his chest, which you don’t protest.

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

Silence fills the room, save for your soft breathing. You clear your throat and stretch your limbs.

“You’re not actually asking me to marry you, right?” you ask warily. 

“Why not? We already have kids.”

“They are not our kids —”

“They may as well be!”

“Satoru,” you snap.

“Okay, okay. I’m half-joking. But I’m serious when I say that I… I think you’re it for me,” Satoru mumbles. “Don’t want anyone else. Ever.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening. “Me neither.”

You mean it. You suppose that the months without him were a lesson in patience, in self-preservation. You can’t deny that he was your missing piece despite it all, despite the hell you went through with him. 

Satoru has always held a slice of heaven – it clung to him, that divinity. You are the only thing that keeps him from dimming.

[praisethegabs]

HOME

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

synopsis: starting a family right after the incident that ended Raccoon City wasn't in your or Leon's plans, but destiny decided to bless you two with twins. Now married and with two kids to raise, life can't be better. Leon finally seems to be healing and moving on, until his job starts to take a toll on him. Again.

warnings: angst (again) with happy ending, mentions of traumas, nightmares, sub!leon and soft dom!wife, mentions of: ptsd, crying during sex, soft smut, p in v, hand job, praise kink, use of pet names. both oc's named olivia and jake as the twins.

word count: 7k

a/n: istg i needed to write something like this. idk why, but the idea felt so great... i like to imagine what was like for leon if he had kids and a normal life, so this is what i got. enjoy it, fellas

"show me the most damaged parts of your soul, and I will show you how it still shines like gold," nikita gill

Starting a family wasn't something you thought about in your early 20s.

But then, Leon Kennedy entered your life. You both met before Raccoon City, and you couldn't help but fall in love with those innocent baby blue eyes. At first, Leon was full of energy, completely eager and enthusiastic about his new job as a cop. You both thought that moving to Raccoon City was a good idea, and you were both happy.

You had just started a new job as an intern journalist, and it was the perfect opportunity for you since you were almost done with college. As for Leon, he graduated from the police academy and was ready to serve. For two individuals in their early 20s, it was the perfect opportunity.

Life can be weird at times.

You both never got the chance to do what you wanted. Raccoon City was in chaos with numerous casualties, and Leon came close to death while battling the Tyrant known as Mr. X. Somehow, amidst all the chaos, you managed to befriend Claire Redfield, a teenager who was searching for her older brother. Together, the three of you managed to survive that night, even rescuing a little girl named Sherry. What happened afterwards were mere consequences.

You knew from the start that Leon was an orphan, and that he was rescued by a cop after his entire family was killed. This is why he helped Claire keep Sherry safe. However, even after that living nightmare ended, the government decided to "ask" Leon to join them. He never told you what happened afterward. He never explained why he had to attend this six-month training camp.

But he was acting differently. Sure, you couldn’t blame him for being distant.

What happened that night traumatized him. He was shot in the shoulder and pursued by Mr. X, narrowly escaping death. You were with Claire most of the time because Leon thought you would be safe with her. He never told you exactly what happened, but you knew him. He changed.

Sometimes, he would wake up screaming, scared, and desperately searching for you, just to ensure your safety and well-being. You would calm him down, talk to him, and help him understand that you are safe and that nothing is real. In the mornings, you would wake him up with breakfast in bed and tend to his wound - which later turned out to be a scar. It was a sorrowful memento of that evening.

Two weeks before Leon left the house, you discovered that you were expecting a baby.

This wasn't exactly what you both wanted, and at first, Leon was mesmerized by the idea of becoming a father, but he was also very scared. Suddenly, he wanted to be at home with you instead of going to this training camp, just like you wanted him to stay. But Leon didn't have a choice. You watched him leave, and something inside your chest told you that this would be the last time you would see this version of Leon, the rookie cop you had fallen in love with.

When he returned home, he was bigger than you had remembered.

His muscles had doubled in size, and he was much stronger, completely different from when he left. His eyes, however, remained the same. It was your Leon, the same man you had met before the apocalypse. When he saw your baby bump and realized it was his child inside, he cried. You had a baby shower, but you didn't know the gender of your baby - you wanted Leon to be a part of everything. So, one week after he returned home, the two of you got married in a beautiful, intimate, and small ceremony. Claire and Chris were in attendance - Chris being Claire's older brother - and you and Leon quickly became friends with him.

Your family lived in another country, and you had no contact with them. You were on your own, and you were glad to have him by your side.

At the end of the year, your twins were born, and Leon was there to witness the childbirth. His eyes were shining just like they did when you both first met. Her name was Olivia. Leon loved that name, and she had her father's eyes and the same blond hair. The other twin was named Jake, and he had your hair and Leon's eyes. Both Olivia and Jake were copies of Leon, and he was proud of them. After the first few weeks, he took care of all the chores around the house and looked after you, Olivia, and Jake. He always said, "You shouldn't worry about that anymore."

But sometimes, he was very scared of someone trying to hurt the three of you. So, he asked to move somewhere else, and suddenly, you didn't have to worry about work or money anymore. He provided everything you needed, and he would move mountains to ensure the security of his loved ones.

The year was now 2002.

He had to leave for a mission with Major Jack Krauser. You stayed at home with your twins and were aided by Claire because they would cause you a lot of trouble. Of course, Leon's job was dangerous, but he always managed to call you and the kids. He never used his ring while on duty and had no pictures of his family with him, afraid that someone would find them and harm the babies. You can be sure that no one at the agency knew he was married and a father of two.

To be honest, you didn't care. You knew that after the incident in Raccoon City, your family meant everything to him, and he would do whatever it took to keep all of you safe. Leon was broken inside, but now he had found a new sense of purpose. He loved all three of you more than anything in the world, and when he returned from the operation, he embraced the twins and showered all of you with affection. Something happened there, but you decided not to ask.

For the twins' 4th birthday, you set a small party for a few friends.

Claire and Chris were there, as always, along with a few of your friends. The barbecue was filled with love and happiness, and yet, you noticed Leon's eyes shining once more. A little reminder that life could be peaceful sometimes, without the horrors of one's job. You would look at him, with all his glorious features kissed by the sun. The way his eyes shine with happiness. He was so beautiful. You felt so lucky.

Olivia was definitely her dad's girl. She loved running into his arms and staying there. She loved it when Leon played with her or bathed her. Jake, however, was more of a momma's boy. Of course, he loved being with his father, but he preferred being with you. They used to sleep together and be each other's best friends until that day arrived.

They were growing up, and now they wanted separate rooms. They would fight sometimes, and Leon was always the reasonable person who would calm them both. He would always talk to them instead of doing something else, and occasionally, on very rare occasions, he would ground the twins.

You knew that your husband was happy with his life. It made him forget about Raccoon City. It helped him heal.

Things couldn't be better for your family. The twins were at school. You finally had time for yourself and Leon. Sex was incredible, and occasionally, you would send the children to Claire's so you could reaffirm your connection with your husband. Leon was very submissive, and you enjoyed being in control, making him beg like the obedient boy he was. You ruined him so deeply that you were certain he would never forget it. Even with two children, you still had the power to touch him and drive him crazy.

Until 2004.

“The president's daughter?" you asked him when he dropped the news about his new assignment. "In Spain?"

"Yes, honey. The president doesn't want anyone to know... that's why I'm going alone," Leon sighed, holding your hands. "But I promise I'll be back before you even have a chance to miss me."

"I already miss you," you muttered, which made him smile. His thumb gently pressed against your lips, while his hand firmly held your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"You know I love you more than anything in this world, right?" Leon asked, his voice smooth, husky, and caring. You nodded in response. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

"Well, you better tell the twins. Good luck, Liv is not in the mood today," you said, playfully tapping his shoulder, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on, honey... this is unfair!" Leon protested, but then he laughed, following you to the living room. He called the twins, and Olivia was already sitting on his lap. "Okay, Daddy's gotta go for a few days to fight the bad guys. Behave and don't get into trouble with your mom, or I'll be the one in trouble, okay?"

"Fight the bad guys?" Liv asked, facing her dad while clutching her favorite teddy bear.

"Yes, sweetheart. They need Daddy to fight the bad guys again. There's someone who needs help," Leon explained calmly, while cradling Olivia in his lap.

"Will you be safe?" Jake asked, as he went to sit with his sister on Leon's lap, hugging his dad.

"Always, pumpkin. When I get back home, I promise I'll take a few days off so we can all be together, okay?" Leon smiled at his son.

"Please, get back home safely, Daddy," Olivia said, burying her face in his neck. Her words brought a smile to his face as he hugged the twins.

You had your twins in your arms as the three of you watched Leon leave in the black SUV. As soon as you closed the door, you activated the non-negotiable security system. Leon needed to be sure that you would be safe with the kids, and you knew very well that he wouldn't be able to focus on his job if he had to worry about his family's safety.

"Why does Daddy have to go, Mommy?" Olivia asked, her eyes shining with tears.

"It's his job, sweetie." Sometimes, Daddy needs to save people so he can keep us safe too," you tried to explain in the best way you could. After all, they were only six years old.

"But what if we need him, Mommy?" Jake asked. You touched the tip of his nose, smiling.

"Well, mommy can protect both of you from the bad guys... and we also have Uncle Chris and Auntie Claire who can help if I need assistance," you reassured your twins with a soothing tone of voice.

"I miss him already," Olivia cried, and then you hugged her tightly.

“I know, baby. Mommy misses him too”

It was the middle of the night when you heard someone deactivating the security system and unlocking the door. After three distinct knocks, you knew exactly who it was.

Leon was tired, distressed, and angry all at once. His clothes were dirty, and he felt quite miserable. His entire body was aching, and he couldn't wait to fall asleep in your bed, holding you in his arms. You, on the other hand, turned on the lights in your room and went immediately to meet him.

The moment Leon saw you, he immediately embraced you, his face completely buried in your neck, sending shivers down your spine, despite the difference in height. Your fingers ran through his tousled blonde hair, and for minutes, words were unnecessary. The way he was holding you in his arms made you think that something really bad had happened in Spain.

"Shh, it's okay... you're home, baby," you whispered in his ear, providing some comfort.

"I'm so sorry," Leon said, his voice breaking.

The last time you saw him so fragile, on the verge of tears, was after the incident in Raccoon City. Witnessing him in that state once more filled you with fear. Right after he apologized, for reasons unknown, he started sobbing and crying on your shoulder. Something was not right.

It took 40 long minutes until Leon finally calmed down. Meanwhile, you kept hugging him and reassuring him with calm words that everything was fine and he was safe at home with you. You gently stroked his hair and often traced circles on his back with your finger.

"I never told you why I left... or why I am doing this job," Leon said vaguely, his eyes focused on something else.

"I never told you why I left... or why I am doing this job," Leon said vaguely, his eyes focused on something else.

"Why does this matter now, baby?" you raised your eyebrow, sitting next to him on the sofa.

"It was because of Sherry. Remember that when Claire left to find her brother, and we attempted to locate a rescue but ended up in that government facility?" Leon asked, his gaze still fixed on something else.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. They kept you away from Leon, but they never told you why. After six years, you would have the answers to this issue.

"That day, they started questioning me, and because I possessed the skills they were seeking, they expressed their desire for me to join them. I only managed to get us out of there because of that," Leon says, his eyes cast downward as if he were ashamed. "But the thing is... they never asked me to join them."

You raised your eyebrows again, confused by his sudden revelation. You knew from the beginning that something - or someone - was being used to make him stay. He finally looks at you, his eyes shining with tears once more.

"They forced me. They said they would kill us if I didn't say yes... and I had no other choice. I asked them to leave you out of this, and I would work for them... I just wanted to keep you safe," Leon sobs again, burying his face in his hands, his voice cracking. "But this last mission... God... the things I saw and did..."

You decided to let him vent. Whatever happened, there was enough to break the wall that Leon had built over the past six years. He was finally allowing himself to feel his emotions, and you wouldn't interrupt him.

"These villagers, they were insane. Controlled by a parasite called Las Plagas, they transformed into monstrous creatures, their heads exploding and their forms becoming grotesque." Leon continued to sob, as the memories of the events in Spain flooded back into his mind. "The cult leader also infected me. He almost turned me into his pet, using the plaga inside me to torture and control my body and mind."

And then, he sobbed again. Seeing your husband hurt like that breaks your heart. Since Raccoon City, you have always been the tough one. You never showed any signs of sadness or trauma because you knew Leon needed your support. Eventually, what happened there stays in the past. But for him, it was completely different.

Gently, you embraced him once more, his head resting on your neck and his breath caressing your skin gently. You felt his warm tears on your robe, but this wasn't something that you cared about at the moment.

"I can't fall asleep... I keep seeing those things over and over again. I see Saddler, Mendez, Salazar, and Krauser," Leon sobs one more time, holding you tightly in his arms. You raised your eyebrows, surprised to hear that name after all these years. "He didn't die. He kidnapped Ashley. He was working for them. I had to fight him, I had to kill him."

"Sweetheart, none of this is your fault," you whispered, trying to calm him once more. Your words were full of assurance.

"He tried to kill Luis and me. I felt so betrayed. I thought he had died two years ago... but he was working for Saddler. He died because of power, something so stupid," Leon said, his eyes closed as he replayed everything in his head. "I just can't believe it. I thought it could be different..."

"Well, you brought Ashley home safely. You did it, and then you managed to come home for us too," you smiled kindly, using your thumb to wipe the tears from his face. "You're here with us, safe and sound again."

"I'm so tired, baby," Leon whispered to you, his eyes still closed as he started to calm down again. "It is always the same bullshit”

"I know," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I'm here, and nothing will hurt you."

You noticed a slight smirk on his lips, and both of you remained there for a while.

You knew that his missions left him stressed and tired. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks, and it always made you anxious because you were scared he wouldn't come back. But you knew Leon better than anyone else. He would always come home.

"Daddy!" "Daddy!" Olivia jumped into his arms when she saw him in the kitchen in the morning.

"Good morning, princess," Leon chuckled, holding her in his strong embrace. "Someone missed me, huh?"

"Where's Jake?" you asked Olivia, noticing that her brother didn't come downstairs for breakfast.

"He's in his room, Mommy," Olivia said, hugging Leon tightly. "I told him to come down and see Daddy, but he didn't want to."

"Ok, I'll take care of it," Leon sighs, gently placing Olivia on the ground and kissing you on the forehead.

You smiled and nodded your head. As Leon went to Jake's room, your daughter helped you prepare breakfast. Gently, Leon knocked on Jake's door before entering. He saw his little boy lying on his bed, with his eyes closed. His room was filled with blue adhesive posters, scattered bears, and toys.

"Hey, big boy. What happened?” Leon asked, sitting on the edge of Jake's bed, with his hand on his son's shoulder.

"I had a bad dream," Jake whispered, trying to hide under the blankets.

"A bad dream? Wanna talk about it?" Leon asked again, gently holding Jake's hand and stroking his hair.

"I saw a man hurting you, Daddy... I felt it too," his baby blue eyes then shined with tears.

"Well, Daddy's back home safe and sound, you see? There's nothing to be worried about, okay? While I'm here, no one will hurt you," Leon smiled, his voice calm and soft, as always. "Now, let's go eat breakfast, or your mom will definitely ground us."

Jake nodded smiling and Leon lifted him onto his shoulders. They walked downstairs together for breakfast, with Leon carrying his child. He placed Jake in the chair, sitting between the twins. Olivia and Jake enjoyed their pancakes with juice, while you and Leon had your favorite meal. Such a warm way to welcome him home.

"Daddy, I did something for you," Olivia said. Then, she ran to the living room and returned with a piece of paper. "I was waiting for you to come back."

"This is so beautiful, princess. I loved it," Leon smiled, as he observed the drawing she made of the family. "Thank you, baby girl."

"Jake drew too," you said, noticing that Jake was away. He seemed sad. "Right, baby?"

"Yes, I did," he nodded, then he ate another slice of his pancake. Your shared glance with Leon conveyed what words couldn't.

A few hours later, Olivia and Jake were playing in the garden, while Leon and you were casually lying on the sofa, watching the twins from the window. He was between your legs, and your fingers were gently running through his disheveled hair. His breath was calm, and he appeared tired, but at least he managed to sleep for the rest of the night.

"I'm worried about him," you sighed to Leon, your eyes locked on Jake as he played with his sister.

"Do you think we need therapy?" Leon's eyes met yours as he lifted his head to get a better view.

"I think he misses you, Lee. Let's be honest, Olivia is like your baby girl, and I think Jake feels that you give her too much attention," you said, analyzing the two.

"Right, babe. I'll fix that, I promise," Leon smirks, passionately kissing your hand.

"Take him to a boys' day or something. I'm sure he'll love spending some time with his dad," you suggested, smiling and leaning in to kiss his forehead.

"Alright, I promise I'll spend some time with Jake. I don't want to miss anything," Leon smiled again, then he leaned in to kiss you.

"Ew, that's disgusting!" Olivia shouted. Then, you glanced at your daughter and smiled mischievously at Leon. Both of you then ran after Jake and Olivia, giving them each a kiss.

2006 was a terrible year.

You knew that someday you would have to explain to the twins the true nature of Leon's job. You thought you would have time for it. Instead, his job decided to rush things, and now you have to deal with it alone.

Leon had gone to investigate something in China, and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable with the idea. Since his mission to Spain, he has completely changed again. Of course, you loved spending more time with him, and the twins loved the idea as well, but he seemed a little sad. Every time you tried to talk and understand what was going on, he would shut himself off and change the subject.

Just like what happened after the incident in Raccoon City.

You were at home when you heard about a submarine exploding and rumors circulating about the Chinese being behind the attack. The last time you had actually spoken to Leon, he was on his way to catch a submarine. Your heart sank at the possibility of him being killed, but somehow, you decided to remain positive. Leon would never leave you alone; he always finds a way to come back home.

But then, just as you were about to tell the twins, Leon returned.

This was the first time you had a fight with him. You needed to tell him how distant he was and the fact that he almost died made you freak out. He needed to open his eyes because he had been away from home since Spain, and you were trying everything in your power to make him see what he was losing.

And right after the fight, Leon attempted to reconcile and make amends.

He was more present at home, spending more time with you and the children. He was being more passionate and caring than ever before, treating you in the best way he could. Even so, he still had nightmares. One night, he woke up abruptly, his face and chest drenched in sweat, his breath labored, and his eyes filled with fear and panic.

"Babe, I'm here. It's okay, it wasn't real. It was only a bad dream," you said soothingly, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair to provide comfort.

"Shit... I-I can't sleep," he muttered, trying to catch his breath. He was very scared.

"Take a few deep breaths with me," you said, placing your hand on his chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat. Leon held your hand for support, to confirm that it was indeed real.

He never told you what his nightmare was about. You attempted to engage in conversation with him, but he mentioned something about terror and fear, implying that it would be better to avoid discussing it. Eventually, after a few weeks, he told you about Jason and what had happened in China. If Jason wanted to scare him, he successfully did that.

You hated Jason more than ever.

After the events of the Eastern Slav Civil War in 2011, Leon decided to quit USSTRATCOM for good. He told you what happened there and expressed his disgust towards the current government. He expressed his anger and stress by fucking you forcefully. Thankfully, the twins were at Claire's, so they couldn't hear your pornographic moans.

Now, he was working for DSO, and he seemed happy.

It was a very peculiar routine. Leon was called during a family quality time and was gone for weeks. When he returned, he would be exhausted to the core, stressed, and angry. The only way to relieve his tension was by using your gentle touch.

Jake and Olivia were at an age where they enjoyed spending time with friends. You didn't mind letting Olivia go to her best friend's house for a sleepover while Jake had fun with his own group. And when you had the house all to yourself, Leon would not only find a good massage but also the perfect stress relief.

"Beg to come, my good boy," you teased, slowing down your hands on his erect penis.

"P-please... let me cum, please,” he moaned so loudly that you knew your neighbors would hear him pleading with you. "F-fuck, I can't take it anymore."

"Again," you demanded, smiling teasingly as you continued to move your hand slowly. You watched as he desperately tried to find some friction, lifting his hips into your hand.

"Please, let me cum, babe,” he whined aloud, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped the sheets beneath him, burying his head in the pillow and closing his eyes. “Pleasepleaseplease I'll be your good boy.”

"The light is green," you whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe. With the trigger words, Leon released himself into your hands, emitting a loud moan that left you satisfied with your performance. His body jerks with the sudden release of pleasure, and he tries to catch his breath again.

“I love you,” he says. 

It was 2013, and you were at home, focusing on your paperwork for DSO since your children were teenagers, and you had time to work again. Jake was at soccer practice, Olivia was with her friends at the theater extra class, and you were alone with Cookie, the stray black and white cat that Leon adopted a few months ago. 

Suddenly, you heard the news about President Benford being killed. At the same time, someone called you. It was Hunnigan. 

She told you Leon was accused of killing the president while on a mission with Helena Harper from the CIA, and he was apparently MIA. You fell onto the couch, your heart beating faster inside your chest. You knew Leon would never betray his own country like that. Not only that, but you knew him better than anyone else. You knew what was about to happen. Immediately, you went to pick up the twins, driving them home in such a hurry that they didn’t understand what was going on. 

“Mom, is there something wrong with dad?” Jake asked, checking his phone with a worried expression. “The president died? Is all over the news” 

“I’ll explain when we get back home” You sighed heavily, your heart beating faster and your hands shaking completely. 

“Is he okay?” Olivia glanced at you, trying to find any assurance. In response, you just bite your lip. 

You said nothing. When you parked in front of your house, you took the twins inside in such a hurry that they started to get anxious. They could definitely tell something was wrong. You closed the curtains and checked the entire place, and when you found nothing, you finally relaxed. 

“Your dad went on a meeting with the president earlier, but I don’t know what went wrong, but he had to kill the president,” you finally said, after sitting with the twins on the sofa. Olivia gasped in shock as Jake remained with his Stoic expression, just like his father. “And at the moment, he’s missing in action” 

If you could protect your children from the truth and the whole world, you would without hesitation. The look of sadness on their faces, the way they leaned in for your support — it all broke your heart. Olivia was crying quietly, Jake was in shock, and once more, it was your responsibility to be the tough one. 

The three of you remained in the living room as your embrace protected the twins, giving them the comfort they needed. At any time, you knew you would receive secret agents at your door, but you had no patience to deal with them. Deep down, you knew that Leon was alive. He needed to be. 

But eventually, after a few days, you started to question if he really died. The twins were at home with you, as you decided to keep them at home after being dismissed from class due to personal reasons. The house, once full of laughs, jokes, and love, was now silent and cold. You were dead worried, waiting for any sign or call from Leon or Hunnigan. Olivia barely left her room, and Jake tried to stay positive, giving you the support you also needed. 

Until he crossed the door. 

The moment Leon walked inside the house, it was like he brought back the light. It was like the missing piece had finally found its way back. Olivia and Jake jumped on him, and for a very long time, tears and sobs were the only symphony inside the place. You were looking at him like he was your sun, the warmth and kindness that always finds a way to melt your heart. He glances at you, and he smiles.

He opens his arms, and when he embraces you, this is exactly where he needs to be.

“I had no other choice. He got infected,” Leon later said, when the four of you were having a family quality time. “And Simmons tried to blame me to cover up for his crimes”

“But you got him, right?” Jake asked, eating his popcorn and focusing his attention on his father.

“Well, kiddo, if I didn’t, I would be dead by now.” Leon chuckles, stroking your hand as you lay comfortably on his chest, smiling.

“Why do you keep doing this, dad?” Olivia asked, sighing. Leon hesitated for a moment. This was a subject never spoken in your family.

“Back in 1998, right after I met your mom, I had recently graduated from the Police Academy, and your mom was about to start as an intern. We decided to move to Raccoon City so we could start a life together, but one week before, I got a call telling me I shouldn’t go. I don’t know why I ignored that call, but we went anyway.” Leon sighed, his eyes looking somewhere else. He never liked talking about Raccoon City. “When we arrived, the city was drowned in chaos, death, and zombies. It was a living nightmare. But at least we met Claire and Sherry, a little girl who was alone. We managed to survive the night, barely escaping the city. The entire city was wiped away the next morning, and when we tried to find a rescue, we ended up in a government facility. I made a deal that day in exchange for keeping your mom and Sherry safe, I joined their top-secret program. One week before I left, your mom told me she was pregnant"

Both Olivia and Jake were surprised to hear about the incident. Sure, everyone knew, but knowing their parents were there and somehow survived was very different. Now, at least, they knew the true nature of Leon’s job and why he did what he did. But, the most important thing in the world, they knew Leon would do everything in his power to keep his family safe.

One year later, in 2014, however, things turned unexpectedly.

Leon decided to go on a vacation in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado after his entire team was killed by a mole. He drowned himself in alcohol, and he clearly was struggling with depression. After everything he went through, he was losing himself again. It was morning when you woke up alone in the hotel room, his side cold and empty. His blonde hair was now dark, he had a beard growing up, and his eyes weren’t shining like usual.

You found him already drinking his sorrows away.

“Babe, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sighed, sitting on his side, holding his hand and squeezing it softly.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this anymore.” Leon muttered, his eyes focused on his own drink and avoiding your gaze. “I had to watch them die… I had to shoot them in the morgue. I lost them all”

“And do you think drinking heavily will ease the pain, Lee? You can’t bring them back, and I know it hurts, but this wasn’t your fault. You tried, I know you did… but sometimes things don’t happen the way we want them to happen,” you sighed again, still holding his hand.

He was shattered inside. Losing his entire team in front of his eyes made him regret every decision he ever made. He was disgusted by himself and found solace in alcohol, which you hated.

“It's a little bit early to be that deep in the bottle, Leon,” you heard Chris say, getting closer with Rebecca.

You smirk, and Leon sighs. He’s going again on a new mission.

When he came back from this mission with Chris, he seemed different. Although his arm seemed to be hurt, he was acting differently. Whatever happened between him and Chris, it worked to make him open his eyes. He enjoyed the rest of his vacation, cutting out alcohol permanently and spending more time with his family. 

He eventually told you about Arias and what happened in New York. Likewise, he told you about Maria. 

Leon was, again, healing. It was a very slow process, but he had his family to remind him that life could be beautiful and happy. He had you by his side, and even after sixteen years since Raccoon City, he was still alive, and nothing bad really happened to you or the twins. Now, he was making his dad jokes again, laughing and smiling more than ever. His presence at home was more frequent, and he definitely decided to stay more with you. 

On the weekends, he would take you and the twins to some random beach, have a picnic, or go camping outside. The family portraits were happier than the previous ones, and slowly, he was starting to show the first signs of his age hitting him. His body wasn’t the same as before, but you didn’t care. To you, he would always be the Leon you met in his 20s. 

A year later, everything was normal again. 

“Ok, slow down. I know you want to go see this prison, but I’m not Flash!” You shouted at Jake while he was speaking aloud about Alcatraz. “Liv, are you ready?”

“Mom, why do you keep treating me like I’m a baby?” Jake rolled his eyes, finally meeting you in the living room, his phone on his left ear. 

“Well, you might be sixteen, but you’re still my baby.” You teased him by kissing his forehead. 

You drove to get the boat to Alcatraz Island because Jake had been asking you for the entire month. He had this history project, and since you were the cool parent, you decided to take him and Olivia on a small trip to the island because Leon was too busy at work, and you wanted to enjoy San Francisco since their vacation was ending. 

But something went wrong. 

You three were at the cell block when everyone started to scream and run. You grabbed Jake and Olivia by their hands and entered one of the cells, locking it. Whatever was happening, their safety was your priority. You took a gun from your purse, ready to keep your children safe. 

“Mom… I-I don’t feel good,” Jake muttered, sliding against the walls. He was pale and sweating, and his breath was very shallow. 

“What happened, baby? What's wrong?” You asked desperately, trying to find any sign of a bite or any other wound. “Are you hurt? Olivia, help me lay him in bed"

But then the same thing happened to Olivia. You were desperate, and their phones were missing. Now, they were struggling against something you couldn’t know what it was, and there was no way to call for help. You sat with them, stroking their heads and whispering soothing words, fighting to keep tears in your eyes. You saw a blonde woman standing on the other side, half of her face covered by her own hair. She watched you with an awful smirk and disdain.

“Who are you?” you asked, your hand slightly reaching your gun.

“I’m the one who will make your husband pay for killing my father,” the mysterious blonde said angrily. “I’ll make him watch your children rip you apart and see him kill everything he loves. And then I’ll make him suffer”

“You’re stupid to think he’ll fall for that,” you said, smiling, but deep down, you knew you were scared. “He’ll beat the living shit out of you just because you thought you could harm us”

She smirks.

“Yeah, if I were you, I’d be worrying about my own skin by now”

“Well, if you think I’ll leave my children alone, you’re wrong. You better find Leon before I find you, because no one fucks with my family and gets away with it,” you threatened with cold, dead eyes, and she seemed to back off.

“Badass, mom,” Jake smirks, holding your hand tight.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Dad’s coming,” you whispered to the twins softly.

You had no idea how she found out about your family, but this wasn’t important at the moment. You had calmed them both, knowing they were struggling with the infection. Seeing them suffer made you angry, and whoever she was, you would go after her and make her pay for hurting your babies. You had no notion of time, but you heard someone. It was Chris and Claire, they were also infected. You hated being the one spared, but you knew you were running out of time.

“Are you guys okay?” You asked both Chris and Claire, hearing them groan in pain.

“Yeah… how about the kids?” Chris asked you back, followed by a groan.

“They’re infected…” you sighed. “I don’t know, it happened quick”

You heard a loud thud. Two people were walking inside the cell block, and then you heard him scream your name, running immediately to you. Desperation floated in his eyes as he saw his twins.

“Babe, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Leon asked with desperation in his voice. He managed to open the cell, hugging you tight. “What happened to the twins?”

“That little bitch infected them,” you muttered, kneeling next to Olivia.

“Maria? Where is she?” Leon asked again, holding Jake in his lap. “Hold on, big boy. Daddy's here”

“Dad… it hurts,” Jake hissed, closing his eyes. Olivia reached for his hand, trying to squeeze it.

“I know, but I need you to hang on just a little bit. I promise I’ll take you home safe,” Leon said, stroking Jake’s hair and, with his other hand, holding Olivia’s.

As soon as Rebecca arrived, she injected the vaccine into the twins, Chris and Claire. Jill had to leave to face Dylan by herself. It was time to end this. As soon as the twins recovered from the infection, you sat next to them with a serious look on your face.

“I need you two to go with Claire and Rebecca. Jake, you need to protect your sister, okay? I’m counting on you two,” you said to them. “Me and Dad will be back for you when we finish. Go, now!” As they leave with Claire and Rebecca, you take your gear.

“You look so sexy when you’re angry,” Leon teased as you two walked to the armory room.

“Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll have to teach you a lesson” You wink at him, which makes him giggle.

Maria was waiting for both of you in the armory room. After an intense fight, Leon managed to kick her, impaling her into some broken metal pipes. She looked at you, and you leaned closer, pointing your gun into her head.

“I told you. No one fucks with my family,” you hissed angrily, right before she dropped dead on the floor.

Alcatraz was a terrible experience. Leon had his face almost purple after being beaten up by Maria, and the twins were exhausted. At least your family is intact again. You were with Rebecca, Chris, Claire, Jill, and Leon outside. He seemed distressed, so you hugged him tightly, kissing his shoulder gently.

“I almost lost them,” he said, looking at the twins laughing with Chris. “And you”

“We’re here,” you said to him, looking into his blue eyes and placing your cheek peacefully on his shoulder.

“I’ll quit.” Leon looks at you. “I’m coming home, and I’ll never leave you again”

You smiled, holding his hand. No matter what happens, at the end of the day, Leon always comes home.

[charlieeenby]

let me show you how to kill a man

the bat won't kill, it's a line he won't cross. his birds, however, are a different story

warnings and tags: murder, violence, injury

title from how to kill a man by bloody civilian

What everyone knows, is that Batman doesn’t kill. He can’t, or won’t, cross that line, and he doesn’t think that killing is the answer.

But he knows that it’s necessary sometimes, and while he’ll never kill, he knows that his children don’t share the same sentiment.

So when it comes down to it, he lets them, and over the years, he’s gotten a little more lax with that rule, trusting his children’s judgement of a situation, and when they need to, he turns his back, doesn’t acknowledge it, and let’s them do what they have to.

But he’s managed to keep it a secret from most, only a select few surviving his the feral sides every one of his children hid from most of the world.

A group of four men stood with their backs facing each other, knives and fists up, ready, for a fight.

But they wouldn’t get one. Batman dropped down from the rafters, but he seemed focused on the kids the men had placed in cages.

Before any of them could react, Nightwing dropped on top of one of them, snapping his neck in one fluid motion. Then he lunged for a second. The other two tried to attack him, but he was able to fend them off, on taking a blow to the face from an escrima stick, the other, a kick to the knee.

Nightwing snapped the neck of the man under him, then stepped to the one who’s knee he’s kicked in. He reached down and snapped his neck. Then he moved over to the fourth man, who swung his knife at him. Nightwing grabbed it, twisting it out of his hand, then stabbed him in the throat, no screams able to escape.

He stood, made sure there was no blood on his suit, then made his way over to Batman and the kids, helping his father get all of them home safe.

Afterwards, Batman asked him if the goons had been handled.

“Of course. Quick and quiet. Hood’s gonna take care of the rest.”

“Good. Let’s go home.”

“Batman doesn’t kill, which means you can’t stop me!”

Gordon growled under his breath, wishing at that moment that Batman did kill, because if someone didn’t kill this weeks psycho, he’d end up leveling the city a few months down the line.

When he looked over to Batman, he was surprised to see that the man had straightened up, hands relaxed at his sides. He had an odd expression on his face, on Gordon couldn’t quite read.

Then he said, very calmly, “You’re right. I don’t kill. I can’t stop you.” Gordon watched him put a hand on his belt for a brief second before dropping it to his side.

The rouge started cackling, ranting and raving about how he was going to be the first to beat Batman, but when he looked down at Batman, and saw the smirk on his face, he stopped.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he yelled, panic clear in his voice.

“I don’t kill, but he does.” Batman said.

“Who -” he was cut off by a gunshot and a bullet piercing his skull. Gordon looked up and found the Red Hood with a rifle.

“He killed almost an entire army, Batman!” Ra’s screamed. “He blew them up because I upset him.”

Batman leveled him with a blank look, but said nothing.

“You don’t kill. Are you going to just let your son kill of thousands of people?”

For a beat, Batman stayed quiet. Then he said. “I don’t let Red Robin do anything. He does what he wants, and you tried to blackmail and kill him. You threatened him, his friends and his family. What he did to keep them safe is not in my control.

“I don’t kill, but if he found it necessary, then I trust his judgement. I’m sure you’ll recover, Ra’s.”

Ra’s stared at him, and Batman turned and guided Red Robin and his team out of Ra’s’ palace.

“Batman, control your hell spawn!” Black Mask screamed, though it was cut off with a gurgle. Robin drove his sword through the crime lord’s throat, and Batman turned away, working through the files on the computer.

Robin came over to his side, blood on his face and sword.

Batman glanced at him, then said, “You have blood on your face. Please clean it off before we talk to the Commissioner.”

“Yes, Father.” Robin did as asked, making sure his face was clear of blood, then followed his father out of the hotel and onto the street where Gordon and his men were waiting.

“Batman. Are we clear to enter?”

“Yes. Black Mask is dead.” Batman said, handing over a flash drive to Gordon. “I have a copy as well.”

Gordon nodded slowly. “Dead?”

“He attacked Robin. Robin defended himself.” Batman said simply. Then he used his grapple gun to launch himself to a roof, Robin following closely behind.

“Okay, then.” Gordon said to himself, not sure how to react to that, especially after he'd seen Red Hood shoot a man after it seemed like Batman had given him the go ahead. 

While Barbra was Batgirl, she was safety and a warm light for the victims they all saved together. She was inspiration for little girls. She was violence, sure, but she was comfort, too.

Tonight, she was all violence. She and Batman had arrived a moment too late, and she was angry. She wanted vengeance and she would have it. Not even Batman would stop her.

No one could stop her when she rose from that little girls body and stepped forward, pulling out the knife her father had given her for her birthday. No one could stop her when she lunged, blade plunging into the killer’s throat, tearing it open. Blood spirted, spraying across her face.

And no one stopped her.

When the man was dead, and she was the killer, she stepped back, and looked to Batman.

He had bundled up the dead girl, wrapped her in his cape and covered her face. And then he had waited for Batgirl to finish. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded once.

“Go back to the cave and clean up. I’ll handle this.” he spoke softly, and there was no anger in his tone.

“Okay,” she said, and that was that.

Cass, Steph, and Jason were thick as thieves, and these days, Bruce rarely sees one without the other, especially on patrol.

So it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Spoiler called in saying that she, Orphan, and Hood needed backup.

Batman responded to the call, Nightwing a minute behind. When he arrived, he could hear fighting in the alleyway, but no gunshots, which worried him. Hood was quick to fire his guns when his siblings were in danger, and of all the times for him to use them.

But the air didn’t echo, it was still, quiet.

Batman dropped into the alleyway in time to watch Spoiler yank a knife from Orphan’s shaking hand, spin on her heel, and plunge the blade into a man’s eye, grinning under her mask as he screamed.

Hood came up behind the man and pulled a batarang across his throat, blood spilling down his chest. Even though he couldn’t see Hood’s face, Batman had the distinct impression that he had a grin that matched Spoiler’s.

Not pausing to hesitate, Batman moved to Orphan’s side, making sure she saw him before pulling her into a firm embrace. It was then that he saw the half dozen other bodies in the alley, all dead.

He looked to Spoiler and Hood.

Spoiler spoke up. “They attacked Orphan. She couldn’t kill them, so we did.” there was no room for argument, not that he had one.

“Thank you.”

Looking down at Orphan, he realized she was still shaking. “Sweetheart, it’s over. You’re safe.” he tried to soothe, though he wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong.

A hand rose and signed, “I thought I’d have to kill them.”

The shaking made sense now. “No, sweetheart, you will never have to kill again. I swear. And even if you did, I would still love you. You’d still be my daughter. Nothing will change that.”

Orphan laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank, you, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

Batman stood on the rooftop, watching Spoiler go after her father, a flash of purple here and there the only sign of her.

Cluemaster was no match for the girl he claimed to be the father to. He’d only hurt her, sharpened the blade.

But Spoiler was who she was in spite of her father, not because of him.

She became the one to beat him so she could save people. And when Batman had found her, he’d helped her hone the skills she already had, helped her improve. And while he’d done that, he’d given her a home, a family, and most importantly, he’d given her love.

Now she was gutting her father, preventing him from causing anymore suffering.

And when she swung up to the roof Batman was on and saw him, she ran to him, ran into his arms, and clung to him.

“He’s gone, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you or anyone ever again. You’re safe.” he whispered, holding her gently. “I’ve got you.”

While the other’s killing had never surprised Batman, Signal came as a slight surprise. But only slight. He was a bright, warm light, often reminding his family of the sun.

But the sun was fire, and fire burns. So when Signal came face to face with the Joker only a few months after losing his parents, Batman wasn’t sure what to expect.

When Signal caught sight of Joker, he snarled, and tensed up, ready to fight. The Joker had cackled and started taunting Signal.

Red Hood was about to step in when Signal grabbed Hood’s gun and fired every round into the Joker’s head, until his face was obliterated and unidentifiable. Then he’d dropped the gun and fell to his knees.

Batman stepped up next to him and set a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “He’s dead, Signal. It’s over.” he said, voice as gruff as ever.

“I know.”

For a moment, they were all quiet, not sure what to do. Then Batman offered a hand to Signal and helped him up. “You good?” he asked, looking his son over.

Signal didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “I will be… thank you.”

Batman smiled. “Of course.”

Of all the times for his children to start killing people, now was the worst time. He couldn’t just ignore it because the Justice League was here. So Batman was not having a good time.

“Batman,” Flash started, voice shrill. “Nightwing just tore a man’s head off.”

To his left, Orphan snickered, not that anyone would know aside from him, but she did. Batman sighed.

“I saw that, Flash, thank you.” What was he supposed to do?

“Batman, almost all of your… children are actively killing people. Signal and Orphan are the only one’s who aren’t.” Superman said. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Batman looked at him. He hesitated.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Superman was an inch away, worry clear on his face.

On his right, Signal cleared his throat. “I feel like it’s a good time to point out that one, the people they’re killing are all of the rapists that have ever existed on earth, come back to life, and two, no one else is doing anything about it.”

Batman grinned. Well, the corner of his mouth ticked up, but it may as well have been a grin with the way Superman stared at him.

“Batman?” he asked incredulously.

“Hn?”

“Do something!”

Batman tilted his head, grunted, then walked over to the ledge they were all on. “Hey!” he yelled and the fighting stopped, all of his children stopping and staring at him. “Superman wants you to stop killing.”

For a good thirty seconds, no one moved or said anything. Then on the comms, Batman heard Hood snort.

“B, will you please tell Superman to, respectfully, get fucked?” Nightwing said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Batman grunted, then turned to the League. “Superman, Nightwing told me to tell you to get fucked. Respectfully.” he said, deadpan. Then he walked back to where he was standing.

Bonus:

It had been twenty years since the Wayne’s brutal murder in that alley way, ten since Batman had started, and one since Dick had joined the family. Today, someone was breaking into the manor.

Alfred sighed as he loaded his shot gun. This would be messy to clean up, but he never missed and he didn’t share the same sentiment as his son.

So he after he finished loading it, he stepped into the hallway, moving silently towards the living room. Must be idiot intruders, thinking there’d be anything to take there.

When he stood in the doorway of the room, he raised his riffle, counted the men – there were three – then spoke.

“Hello.”

They all spun around staring wide eyed at the shot gun.

Alfred grinned. “Goodbye.” he fired three shots in quick succession, all three of them dead. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Bruce flew around the corner, panic on his face.

“Nothing to fret over, Master Bruce.” Alfred said calmly. “I’ve handled it. The mess will be cleaned up before breakfast. Now go back to bed, dear boy.”

Bruce gave him an odd look, eyeing the shot gun, then nodded and went back to bed.

In the morning, when Bruce looked into the living room, it was spotless, nothing out of place. No one said anything about it. 

[skelliko]

Tokyo revengers |°-context: you visit your grandparents at the country side and he willingly taged along

๑-featuring: kazutora, chifuyu, baji

°- Kazutora Hanemiya

• he had to get used to it for a while but afterwards he'd actually kinda enjoyed it

• would stroll around and admire the wide fields bigger than a football stadium in awe, he'd also lean against a tree or something and have a peaceful moment for himself while enjoying the birds chirping

• would give random scary looking spiders the most basic names like Dave and think it's funny (it's actually pretty funny)

• liked sitting by the furnace to put wood in to heat up the house, even if he did burn himself by accidentally touching the hot metal by the sides, he still liked being taught how to use it and be in charge of it

• got distracted for some time by sitting on the grass and watching a snail slowly move it's small body over a large rock, he was there for 7 minutes before he realised what he was doing, and the snail still hasn't gone over the rock since it decided to go in multiple random directions in the same spot- he was tempted in flicking it off with his finger but chose not to

• hated waking up in the morning tho, he was way too tired to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds

• would he come back? it's not exactly his thing but if he were to pass by the area then he'd happily wonder about a little while

°- chifuyu matsuno

• he'd be enthusiastic about the amount of cows that are on the fields, the second he saw one cow he yelled out "cow! :o" but then when he saw a whole field of em he yelled out again "more cows! :D"

• beautiful sunsets over here and would take multiple photos of the sky

• would crouch down and inspect an odd insect that he's never seen before and think that he discovered an undiscovered bug and give it a whole scientific name that just consists of random phrases conjoined together and is hard to pronounce the second time

• at first he liked being given a job that included a lot of physical work but after a while he grew to dislike it, he still tried to finish it so that your grandparents wouldn't hate him for it - but the naps afterwards were delectable

• got woken up in the middle of the night and just sat there in bed for a while almost mesmerized by how dark it was, like- pitch black

• enjoyed the home grown fruits and vegetables, there was a clear difference between store bought compared to grown in the garden/field - he took a liking to the yellow apple tree most due to how sweet and semi soft the apples are

• would he come back? potentially if he wouldn't be put to do heavy work, he enjoys most of the other stuff tho

°- Baji Keisuke

• would pet the neighbours cats that are wondering about and try and feed them ham or something

• sits outside somewhere enjoying the breeze and the chirping birds in the distance, usually you wouldn't be able to hear this many birds all at the same time anywhere else other than the country side, not even in a nearby forest

• he'd be pretty chill at staying the night and enjoy looking at the stars since you can't see them clearly in the city

• mosquitos love him for some reason and he hates that he gets bit easily, only thing he hates about being here

• enjoyed chopping the wood with an axe to later use to heat the house up, he was pretty good at it as well but he was only allowed to do it a few times before the axe got taken away cause he nearly hurt himself. got kinda disappointed by that.

• would he come back? definitely, it's not a life style he'd want to commit to but for a short while he'd be chill with it

 ♡--

[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

♫ Sleeping At Last - Two

I don't even know where to start // Already tired of trying to recall // When it all fell apart // I just want to love you, to love you

word count: 3.2k

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo moves in the next day.

Or at least that is when she puts his name up on the doorbell and the mailbox. He stands next to her when she does, their shoulders almost brushing and the keys to his new place jingling in his palm. Before that, he watched her type up his name on an old typewriter and she gave him a slightly disgruntled look when he asked why she’s not doing it on the computer. 

“It’s faster this way, believe me,” she muttered and then sent him off to go feed Jiji as if that’s something he’d done countless times before. Like he belonged here already. Backoffice, top shelf, the tuna one. Half a can is enough. Don’t let his big round eyes fool you. (He did, in fact, let the cat’s big round eyes fool him.)

Yesterday, after he viewed the apartment, she told him to sleep on it for a night to see if he really wanted it or if it was just the whim of a moment. Kuroo wanted to protest, but he figured she had a point. It’s been a day for him–a burst water pipe in his old apartment, almost getting hit by a car on his way to work, the one comment by his boss that made him write his resignation letter while he was still in the meeting–all before noon.

On top of that it’s been pouring all day, too. Of course it was. 

He knew he had to get out of here. The buzzing heart of downtown Tokyo didn’t excite him anymore, it drained him, scared him. The monotony and the loneliness, the anonymity and the coldness of the people around him. It’s like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He left the office on autopilot and walked to the closest station, took the next train out of the city and just got off somewhere in the outskirts of town, an area which's name he only read on the map before. 

It was all intuition that brought him here. Maybe the stubborn refusal that this was his life. There must be more to it, right? There had to.

Kuroo was tired. He had been tired for a very long time. 

After walking out of the station he rented a bike, earning himself a slightly concerned glance from the shop owner (because surely he must have looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown) and started exploring the neighborhood in the pouring rain. Because it was either this or going back to suffocating in his shoebox of an apartment. An easy choice. 

Calm. That’s how he felt while he explored these narrow streets, all sounds of the world muffled by the pitter patter and his own huffs and puffs while he pedaled. It was kind of freeing, feeling the rain on his skin and the clear air in his lungs. As if he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

All buildings here were much smaller than the big skyscrapers in Tokyo, and it was greener, despite autumn being around the corner. There were a lot of local shops, none of the usual chains with the same clothes and the same food you see in Shibuya, no–stores that still had a soul. He passed by a flower shop where he saw the owner arranging a beautiful bouquet, a record store that blasted early 2000s J-Rock, and eventually stopped by a sandwich shop to grab himself a bite.

While he waited for his order, he spotted the flyer in the window.

It broke all rules of good graphic design but somehow that only made it more endearing. Someone slapped half a dozen different Wordarts on one page, printed it out, then apparently added more handwritten notes–in a really messy handwriting on top of that–to it and afterwards made a few low-quality copies at the local copy shop on a printer that’s running on ink from the past century probably.

Kuroo was intrigued by it.

>> Apartment for rent >> 3 rooms + kitchen + bath + backyard >> comes with a cat (Jiji. you have to get along) >> everything’s a little broken (the cat is not. however he is the reason for it at times) >> more info at The Heirloom (open monday-saturday; 10am-6pm or just knock)

The flyer also contained a photo of said cat, or at least traces of it–due to the poor quality and the presumably black fur of Jiji all that could be seen were two small orbs in a void. When he tried looking up the address of the store mentioned, he didn’t get any results which made him wonder if the flyer was as ancient as it seemed. The shop staff who handed him his order noticed his confusion and shook their heads and laughed, then kindly explained that the data online probably wasn’t up to date since the owner preferred to do things the old school way. They drew him a small map on a napkin that would lead him there, to The Heirloom.

On his way there he wondered what kind of person the owner was like. Someone elderly maybe? Or was he just biased because in his head an antique shop had to be run by someone who was at least 300 years old? At least the people in the sandwich shop all smiled at the mention of the shop owner, one of them the girl from the flower shop he passed by earlier. Each of them had something nice to say which he took as a good sign.

Oh, she bought the broken necklace I inherited from my mother, said she could give it a new life. I spent my entire uni years at her shop, the book collection there is endless. It’s impossible to leave without buying something, right? Yesterday I saw a girl walking out with three vases and two bags dangling from her arms, really got the full Heirloom experience it seems. 

All Kuroo had was a name, the crumpled flyer in the pocket of his shirt and the gut feeling that they were destined to meet.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the store was the sign above the door, faded letters and the coating of them peeling a little, but it only seemed to add to the overall charm. It was an antique store after all. The entire building seemed a little older than the rest of the street and from what he could tell through the fogged up shop windows, the inside glowed warm and welcoming, even more on a rainy day like this. The old door bell announces his visit when he takes the first step into his new future. 

He’s overwhelmed by the masses of antiques, some of them stacked up to the ceiling. There’s bookshelves that look as if they’re about to collapse at any moment and at the same time as if they’ve been built to last a thousand years, possibly longer. Ailes leading in the depths of the store, like a maze you could get easily lost in. There’s a bit of everything–furniture from various decades, racks with vintage clothing of all kinds, porcelain in every shape and color possible, vinyls and cassettes, paintings in all sizes, vintage rugs stacked over each other… never has he experienced a place like this before.

A cat rubbing against his legs draws him back into reality. Jiji, he remembers from the flyer, and then another pair of footsteps shifts his attention towards the direction they were coming from.

Kuroo is a goner the moment he sees her.

He heard about the phrase before, to have one's breath taken away, but to feel it quite literally happen to him–that was something he hasn’t experienced before. With the flyer clutched in one hand all he can do is stand there, starstruck and drenched to the bones, a small puddle forming at his feet. He’s smiling like a fool and barely registers what she’s saying, too distracted by the drumming sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Not only is she beautiful–she also radiates the aura of an old soul, someone who has experienced life in all its glory and gory. It’s as if she can see right through him the moment their eyes meet, see everything that shaped him into the person standing in front of her today. The almost painful tug in his chest is impossible to ignore, as if his soul wants to stumble towards her. He finds himself yearning to bask in her light, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. 

“Hi, I’m here for the vacant apartment?”, is all he can stammer out, but he might as well have gotten on one knee and asked if she had been his beloved wife in a past life.

And so he moves in the next day. 

Due to her connections in the neighborhood Kuroo is able to borrow a truck from the nearby flower store–Calla Lily, she and the owner are close friends, he learned–and move his few belongings from his old apartment to the one above The Heirloom. 

It wasn’t a lot to begin with: A futon, a few boxes with clothes and one filled with memories, the old rocking chair he got from his sister when he moved out for college and a few pots and pans, some of them still in their original packaging. The kitchen in his old apartment had been tiny and most of the time he’d been too tired to use it anyway. He lived off conbini food and whatever lunch the cafeteria at his job offered. 

By the end of the day, Kuroo sits down on the wooden floor of his new apartment, surrounded by the remains of his old life in moving boxes. A strange feeling blooms in his chest, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. It’s like everything is slowly falling into place, the universe making room for him to finally grasp the life he’d been craving the whole time. 

He could just curl up here on the floor and sleep for three days, he thinks, when a knock at the door interrupts his trail of thoughts. 

“Come in,” he calls out and rises to his feet again, brushing a bit of dust off his old jeans–first time he wore these again after spending the past couple of years in a three-piece suit most of the time. 

The door was only left ajar and pushed open slowly. First in is Jiji who hastily rubs against Kuroo’s legs before he struts off to explore the boxes and new scents of the apartment; second is her, lingering in the doorframe, not as brazen as her cat. She smiles brightly when she sees him and holds up a basket for him.

“Thought you might be hungry after today,” she says and lifts up the cloth, revealing an old stoneware pot that radiated a heavenly smell and one half of a sourdough bread. It smells freshly baked. “It’s stew. Old family recipe. Nothing exciting, but hearty, something to warm you up. Since you got soaked yesterday, you know? Don’t want you to catch a cold in the long run.”

Kuroo is a little too baffled and a little too moved to speak, and when he takes the basket from her, her attention drifts to Jiji who is in the middle of claiming Kuroo’s rocking chair as his new favorite spot. She clicks her tongue and looks back at Kuroo apologetically.

“This cat, I swear. You can just kick him out if he gets on your nerves, though I can’t promise that he’ll weasel his way back inside when you blink,” she sighs and Kuroo shakes his head and laughs. 

“I really don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a cat around again. Used to have one when I was a kid,” he says and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He taps the screen a few times before handing the phone to her. She takes it from him like it’s something alien or a bomb that could go off any second, but her face relaxes when she sees the photo of his childhood cat. It was an old calico named Kiki they adopted shortly after his parents divorced, his father’s poor attempt to make him feel a little less lonely. 

He steals glances at her while she swipes clumsily through the gallery, her tongue poking out a little from between her lips. It was endearing to watch. 

“You were a really cute kid,” she snickers after her third attempt to zoom into a photo of him napping in the garden with Kiki on his chest. “Same hair, too.”

Kuroo puts the heavy basket down on the kitchen countertop and looks back at her over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Were? What, am I not cute anymore? You wound me”, he quips back and she looks up from the screen with the most serious face, a small frown across it even. 

“I did not say that. Obviously you still are very cute,” she replies bluntly, and the words hang in the air for a few seconds until it dawns on both of them that they’ve been flirting just now and neither of them knew what to do with this realization. Kuroo busies himself with lifting up the lid of the stoneware pot while she puts his phone down on the kitchen table to grab Jiji from the rocking chair instead.

“That’s a beautiful chair you got here,” she says and breaks the awkward silence that was about to settle between them, and Kuroo feels a small wave of relief wash over him. He would have hated it if their first night as neighbors was off to a bad start. When he turns around again, her hands are running over the wood, her gaze focused with a hint of admiration. He had a feeling she would really like this rocking chair. Not that he had pictured her in it or anything, with a book across her lap and wearing one of his sweaters. Surely not. 

“Right? It’s a bit worn out and broken, but I guess I don’t have to tell you of all people that it’s not a bad thing,” he replies, a little quieter now. His gaze softens when she looks back at him and smiles. 

“These are my favorite kind of things actually.”

Jiji is hanging over her shoulder while she inspects the rattan lining and Kuroo thinks he could spend hours just watching her. Every movement of hers is done with care; from her fingers tracing the grain pattern to her eyes racking over the small notch in one of the armrests. He can tell that she’s already thinking about how to kindle his chair without taking away its charm from the past. 

It’s what she does apparently, fixing things that have been loved for a long time. Breathing new life into them while acknowledging their past. 

“Do you want to eat together?”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He catches her gaze and neither of them looks away. “It… I’d really like it if we could eat together. Neighbor.”

"Neighbor," she echoes and mirrors the smile that’s forming on his lips. Kuroo isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he can see a flicker of relief wash over her, as if she had waited a very long time for someone to ask her for a shared dinner. 

Kuroo swallows, his throat feeling a little tight all of sudden, and tries to distract himself. Dinner. It dawns on him that he has never had anyone over for dinner ever since he moved out. How does that even work? You’re supposed to set out plates and glasses and…? 

“Uh. Don’t laugh but I don’t have any cutlery,” he admits with a small sheepish smile while his head rattles a hundred miles per hour. All of sudden he was feeling nervous. Who at his age doesn’t own cutlery? Someone who doesn’t have his life together. Kuroo could quite feel the self-deprecating thoughts crawling up his spine. 

Uncool. He felt so damn uncool. 

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of it, looking back at her and remembering how to breathe again. She smiles up at him and something inside of Kuroo unravels, making him feel present again. 

“Boy, do I know the store for you,” she laughs and it’s like a hundred suns are rising all at once. 

There is something magical about walking the aisles of The Heirloom after dark, hours after the store had closed its doors. In the dim lights, Kuroo follows her around in wonder. She seems to have memorized every single trinket here, which shelf it rested in and what’s the story behind it. He could listen to her for hours without ever getting tired, he realizes. 

They came down here for cutlery, and while Kuroo was rummaging around the sets she had, she appeared behind him again with a stack of plates and some tea towels made from linen cloth, one corner embroidered with a trio of small mice dancing together. Isn’t it silly, she laughed and showed it to him, and Kuroo could feel his heart stumble against his ribcage from the sound of it. 

“Very silly. I love them,” he agreed. They put all the things they gathered on the counter and Kuroo pats the backpocket of his jeans for his wallet. She stops him right there by reaching for his hand and holding it in hers, shaking her head. 

“Don’t even think about paying any of this,” she says with a small roll of her eyes, but she’s laughing while she does. She’s also still holding his hand, and Kuroo can’t help but brush a thumb over her knuckle. “It’s a welcoming gift, alright? So this place will feel like home to you a little quicker.”

She squeezes his hand and Kuroo squeezes back, knowing there was no use in protesting. He’ll think of something else to make up for her kindness. There’s many things he wants to say at this moment, but the words just won’t come out, which is strange, because usually he was very good at them–just not in her proximity, it seems. 

Not letting go of his hand, she tugs him behind her, gesturing to him to follow her to the back of the store again.

“Come, I need to show you a rug that I think would be perfect for your living room,” she says with a smile. “I also have some heavy wool blankets you can put on your rocking chair until I fix the rattan lining for you. I think Jiji would love that, too.” The cat meows at the mention of his name and follows them like a shadow. 

They spend over an hour unrolling every other rug and in the end Kuroo picks three of them, because according to her you can never have too many rugs and Kuroo thinks he’s a rug person now. Maybe he’s also falling a little bit in love with her, or maybe it’s just the warm light that makes her look angelic, and her calm voice narrating all the stories of people who have once loved, a piece of them kept alive by not forgetting them in the walls of this store. 

Kuroo wonders if one day someone will tell their story with the same gentleness; their love, preserved.

a/n: serving you the lale special - the down bad (and soon to be lovesick) man. really my favorite genre of men. calla lily is the flower shop from wyr's love's nectar and the poor girl mentioned who left the heirloom with three vases and more trinkets is y/n from ellie's homemade love! the kuroocember trilogy holding hands all the way through.

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

@stargirllost @fushiguruuzzzz @boosyboo9206 @wyrcan @nekozaki

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hiya! I'm happy that You enjoyed my idea! And I realy liked how you wrote it! Especialy the Furina part :D

I'm not sure if you are okay with writing this, but if you are: Which of the Genshin characters would handled their lovers death the worst?

- 🐶 anon

oooo this one was really good! i couldn't pick just one so i did five little short ones! I hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including lots of talk about death, delusional behavior, childish temper tantrums, making puppets of reader, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Furina would throw an absolute fit, upset at the idea of you dying on her, of you leaving her. She has to be pulled away from your corpse by Neuvillette because she’s screaming as she shakes it in a panicked manner. She’s desperate for you to wake up, screaming and crying as she tries to convince herself that you aren’t really dead. That you haven’t left her. She has to take a leave of absence from the court for a while, grief is a difficult thing and she doesn’t handle it well. 

Yandere!Raiden would be enraged. You promised to spend eternity with her, and now you were trying to back out of it? She won’t let you. She does everything in her power to bring you back, from creating a puppet of you to trapping your soul in the Plane of Euthymia. Nothing is right though, the puppet doesn’t feel the way you used to, it doesn’t behave like it should. Your soul isn’t any better, it can only replay strong memories from when you were alive, leaving Raiden feeling like she’s talking to a movie. She destroys the puppet and hides your soul away in a far corner of the Plane, though she feels equally as awful afterwards. 

Yandere!Wanderer is distraught when he loses you, he had lost so many before and yet, this one hurt the most. He sits on the outskirts of Sumeru City for a while, remaining stock still on a bench as he just feels. While he seems composed on the outside, on the inside he’s in pure agony. He doesn’t want to think or feel or move or do anything at all because everything just reminds him of you. It takes months for him to move from the bench, sitting there day in and day out despite the weather, and when he does move it’s only to sit in front of your grave. There he sits for another month, just staring at the name that once belonged to his loved one, now passed. The lover who left him, just like everyone else did.

Yandere!Xiao blames himself for your death, whether it's an accident, intentional, or simply of something you couldn’t stop like aging or sickness, Xiao will think it’s his fault. It’s always his fault, everything was because he wasn’t strong enough to protect you. The next year is spent with Xiao hardly being seen by anyone, not even food could lure him out. He spends all his time fighting, killing anything and everything in sight that deserves it as he tries to let the burn of his karmic debt distract from the ache in his heart. He refuses to visit your grave, making Zhongli bury you and not even attending your funeral. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he can’t bring himself to attend. He thinks he’s the reason you’re dead and he didn’t think you’d want him in attendance. He spends the rest of his life span thinking you died hating him, blaming him.

Yandere!Diluc is unsure of how to feel when you pass. He’d felt the pain of losing his father, and while he’s not dead, Diluc had lost his brother for many years in a way. But your death was different, it didn’t make him so upset he was driven to violence like his father, but rather made him want to simply lay there and cry. He spent a week straight just in bed after your funeral, hands idly tracing over the side of the bed you once slept on. He keeps everything exactly how you left it, never touching a thing incase one day, somehow, you came back to him. He wanted you to know that he loved you so much that he left everything just how you liked it.

[your-turn-to-role]

also. i absolutely adored what lovm did with the pass through fire quote

but then it makes me emotional about the original context, so i have to share that too (minor plot spoilers ahead)

because it wasn't originally to do with the ashari at all. it was from patrick rothfuss' guest character, a blacksmith named kerrek, who helped vox machina fight against the dragon in westruun, and helped keyleth personally through some difficult stuff (he may yet appear on lovm, but given the context of the quote now i doubt we'll get all of it)

and a little after kerrek's episode, patrick rothfuss actually made a legit letter from kerrek to keyleth, with a present inside, and left it with matt until whatever point in the plot she was able to recieve it

which by coincidence was one of the hardest moments in the whole campaign for her

and this letter had marisha legit crying in the episode, because it's just. so beautiful, and so needed. and it goes:

Keyleth,

I write to let you and your companions know that the repair of Westruun is proceeding well. I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that our children are well-fed and safe, our elderly and infirm are cared for and comfortable. Without the help of you and yours, this would not be the case.

The folk in charge argue constantly, but that is to be expected, and it is no bad thing. They all want the same good things in different ways. I listen, mostly, and do what I can to make sure that they listen to each other. Without listening, nothing good can happen.

The town... when I say the repair is going well, it is a hard thing for me to talk about. I am not a particularly clever man, and much of this is new to me. When you make a mistake with metal, you can melt things down and start afresh. It is irritating, and it costs in time and soot and sweat, but it can be done. There is a comfort in iron, knowing that a fresh start is always possible. But a city is not a sword. It is a living thing, and living things defy simple fixing. Roots cannot be reforged. They scar, and broken branches must be cut and sealed with tar, and this makes me angry, as it always has, and my anger has no place to go.

It was easier when I was young. I could use my anger like a hammer against the world. I was so sure of myself and my friends and my rightness. I would hammer at the world, and breaking felt like making to me, and I was good at it. And while I was not wrong, neither was I entirely right. Nothing is simple.

I do not work in wood. I am not brave enough for that. There is a comfort in iron, a promise of safety, a second chance if mistakes are made. But a city is more a forest than a sword. No, it needs more tending than that.

Perhaps a city is like a garden, then. So these days, it seems I have become a gardener. I dig foundations in the earth. I sow rows of houses. I plan and plant. I watch the skies for rain and ruin. I cannot help but think that you would be better at this, but circumstance has put both of us in our own odd place. You are forced to be a hammer in the world, and my ungentle hands are learning how to tend a plot of land. We must do what we can do.

Did you know that there are some seeds that cannot sprout unless they are first burned? A friend once told me that. She was... she was a bookish sort. I think of gardening constantly these days. I wear your gift, and I think of you, and I think it is interesting that there are some living things that need to pass through fire before they flourish.

I ramble. You have the heart of a gardener, and because of this, you think of consequence, and your current path pains you. I am not wise, and I do not give advice, but I have come to know a few things: sometimes breaking is making. Even iron can start again. And there are many things that move through fire and find themselves much better for it afterward.

I have enclosed a gift. Once it was a sword, but it has changed. It is a small thing, and silly. Please forgive an old man for his foolishness. Still, I hope it brings you some small comfort.

Kindly, Kerr.

and the present inside the envelope? a ring, engraved with the phrase "I have passed through fire."

[wildwinterlunas]

Just watched a playthrough of Rot in Paradise and holy shit. People have started coming to me for critiques on Australian characters (mainly overwatch), their writing and designs, and that is Australian rep done right!

Starting with the character designs, I have seen variations of all of those outfits on people here, not only that but the designs all communicate where the characters are actually from;

Carmen, McCoy and Vonnie are all from an urban area, likely a city. The characters never change clothes during the game so I'm going to assume these are their swimming clothes. All three of them are actively wearing swimwear covered by things you would typically wear to the beach if you aren't planning to immediately change clothes afterwards. Not only that but they are wearing a lot nicer clothes then June and Ryan, they are clothes specifically bought for swimming. Not only that but you can tell the they are from different cities or at least different parts of the same city, Carmen is more inland, her coat is think and the way it falls communicates that it's not really made from beach safe material, it's also very obvious that her swimmers are underneath her clothes and are not just her outfit. Meanwhile with McCoy and Vonnie they live more costal, they're outfits are made for the beach, McCoy's actively being just his swimmers. Vonnie is a little more complicated but though she is wearing clothes over her swimmers, they aren't the same as Carmen's. Vonnie is wearing loose fitting clothes specifically designed for the beach something that can easily be tied on and off again.

Meanwhile Ryan and June are dressed more rurally. Ryan can't swim and is implied to be afraid of the ocean, which communicates to me that he's from somewhere that is pretty land locked. That and his clothes are something I've seen worn by Aussie farmers (Aka my dad) wear on their days off, that and his tan lines indicate that he's in the sun a lot, possibly in an old button up considering where his tan lines are. Not only that but his drinking habits and taste in beer are very rural Australian coded. While June is dressed more as a person who grew up rural but has moved into a city later in life, she's wearing old looking shorts with a belt on them which signifies that they're not going to be taken off to get in the water, while her top is an actual swimming top and she's wearing a beach top over that, both look in good condition and fairly new. There's also June's dyed hair which is honestly common for people who grew up rurally to do once that move to a city. Also Ryan still living in a more rural area would also explain why his hair does seemed dyed but is a lot more faded and less maintained. In all honesty it wouldn't surprise me if June and Ryan grew together considering the similar dye jobs and the way June greets Ryan at the beginning of the game.

Also THANK YOU studio investigrave for not making all the characters white, it's such a common problem when people are writing Australians or Australia in general that they make everyone white. It feels so gross to me when I see that.

Next up in the language used and holy shit was the dialogue well written, "mate" was used in the correct context, "bloody hell" and "dickhead" where the most used slang and that is fully correct, Ryan bringing an esky (cooler, as everyone else says) full of beer on a vacation is such a relatable experience to me. In general I felt seen by the way that characters talked and acted, which is rare when looking at Australian characters.

Also the story involving the environment as the horror, and the environment explored being the water is so important to me. Australia is dangerous, but when that is explored in media it's usually just the outback. Meanwhile the bush and our oceans are usually never touched on, despite them being just as dangerous. Not only that but they used the theme of isolation without using the outback too, which again, is very rare for me to see.

Anyway this game was great and is going up there as one of my favorite games.

[flanaganfilm]

Hey, Mike! Did moving to Los Angeles at the start of your career turn out to be all that you thought it would be? It’s a big step that a lot of people take, and I’ve never really heard you talk about those early years before. Did you ever contemplate quitting? And if so, I’m glad you stuck to it - we love your work!

Oh, I contemplated quitting many, many times.

I moved to Los Angeles in January, 2003. I had just graduated the previous summer from Towson University, and a group of five of us moved out together. Some wanted to be filmmakers, some wanted to be actors. We shared a 3-bedroom apartment in Glendale. The adjacent apartment was occupied by four other Towson alums. Between the two apartments, we called it "Little Towson." I didn't own a car at the start. I had no health insurance. I'd saved a few thousand dollars to get me through the first six months, but none of us had jobs at the beginning. I remember applying (and being rejected) for a job at Walmart. I combed Craigslist looking for non-union editorial gigs.

I had told myself I'd give it five years, and if I hadn't gotten any traction, I'd move back to Maryland.

People started dropping out pretty quickly. One of my roommates (and one of my best friends) had moved out here to be an actor, and only lasted a few months before he decided to go back. It's overwhelming and terrifying to take a leap into a city as expensive as LA, and you're surrounded by people who all want the same career that you want. But it feels like there is a thousand foot wall circling the industry, and it seems impossible to scale it.

I found work doing odd editorial jobs before working as a logger, than an assistant editor, then an editor on a few reality shows. I shot and cut those local car commercials you see on late night cable. And I frequently ran out of money and overdrafted my account. As more and more of our original group gave up and moved back East, I started to feel more and more crazy. A lot of my friends from school were getting married, buying houses, having kids. I felt pretty delusional as my 5-year deadline came and went, and I still hadn't found any way over or through that wall. When we started to talk about making Absentia in 2010, I had been in LA for more than 7 years. I was working two jobs as an editor. I found out I was going to be a father. It felt very much like whatever I'd wanted to happen by moving to LA was not going to happen. Absentia was kind of last-ditch effort. Ultimately, the five year plan I'd allowed myself when I moved to LA turned into a 9-year plan. I started shooting Oculus - my first "real" movie - in the fall of 2012, just shy of my 10th anniversary in Los Angeles. That movie wouldn't come out for a while after that, so by the time I actually had a career as a filmmaker, well over a decade had passed struggling in LA.

For most of that time, my refusal to move back to Maryland looked (and felt) like a delusion. Only afterward did it start to look like "tenacity." And it never felt like "persistence" or "determination"... it felt insane. It felt like constant, daily frustration and rejection. And when I couldn't pay the bills, or couldn't land a job, it felt downright embarrassing.

For what it's worth, the only difference I've seen between people who "make it" out here and don't are that the ones who made it all stayed long past their expiration dates. I've seen wildly talented people pack it up and head home. Talent helps a lot once the door is open, but really the only thing that opens the door is persistence. To the point of feeling insane.

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 7: Distrust and Fear + Picture Books

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Beginning -> previous -> next (tba)

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: violence, mentioned starvation, mentioned death, minor animal death, tension

Words: 10,764

Pov: Pearl + Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Stay safe out there.” Bigb said as he pulled the cloak - black instead of her usual red  - tighter around her shoulders in the same way Pearl imagined a mother would for a child they were sending out to play or run errands.

“This isn’t my first time doing this.” Pearl said with a fond roll of her eyes. 

“Of course it isn’t. You’re a seasoned veteran in this type of work. That doesn’t stop me from caring for your wellbeing.” He said before pulling the hood up and over her eyes, messing up her hair and momentarily blinding her in the process.

“Hey!” She snorted. 

She fixed her hood and smoothed her hair back underneath it to keep the locks out of her eyes. She straightened the thigh strap that held her daggers and then tightened it, letting the cloak fall back into place afterwards. While the weapons were mostly hidden, they were obvious to anyone that looked hard enough. Innocent and unassuming at first glance, but deadly upon a further look; as was her brand.

She detested having to use the daggers, even with how easy they were to conceal and keep up an innocent image with. Her usual choice of weapon would be a scythe, in fact it was the only weapon she felt she was proficient in. However, it was far too difficult to carry around when she was trying to be sneaky, so... daggers it was.

“I better head out before it gets too much later.” Pearl said with a sigh. 

“You don’t have the advantage of cloud cover tonight either, so you better go before the moon gets too high in the sky. It’s a full moon tonight, so it’ll be fairly bright out.” Bigb said before settling down into the cushiony seat that sat near a candle by the window.

“Just the way I like it.” Pearl said with a devilish smile. She waved Bigb goodbye before opening the window and settling her boots on the sill. She exhaled before dropping down into the night, her cloak billowing out around her as she fell.

Her smile dropped from her face as she touched down and began walking towards the outskirts of town, where the large forest that surrounded the kingdom was. The moon and the castle framed her from behind as the wind nipped at her fingers and the cold of the cobble she strode upon seeped in through her tattered boots to numb her toes.

As far as Bigb knew - as far as anyone knew - she was heading to the castle to do a little bit of reconnaissance before the big day of the party. She, however, had other plans for the night, more important plans that pertained to their dear leader in a different way. She wanted to feel bad for lying to Bigb about her whereabouts, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was long past feeling guilt for sneaking around behind the backs of people close to her. It was part of who she was at this point, a habit she picked up at a young age and never was able to shake. It had kept her alive thus far, though, so was there really a need to feel any sort of guilt? It was just survival.

There was hardly a soul in sight with how late it was but still she kept to the shadows as she went, not making a sound even as Tilly silently moved to join her from wherever it was that the wolf-hound had been lurking until that point. 

Soon the humming buzz of the city limits gave way to the thrum of life as her feet transitioned from the hard cobble of civilization to soft soil and crunching mulch of the forest. Crickets singing, birds chirping, movement rustling in the underbrush, and the noise of stray animals all reached her ears as the smell of crisp, unfiltered winter filled her nostrils.

“Alright, girl, lead the way.” Pearl whispered to Tilly, giving the old dog a pat on the head as her tail wagged and her tongue lolled out past her large teeth. Tilly didn’t have to be told twice as she raised her snoot into the air, taking a few big sniffs before letting out a low yip, taking off into the forest on quick paws.

Pearl followed behind her old companion at a similar speed, keeping her body close to the ground as she went. The wind whistled through the bare trees and snow sodden leaves flattened under the pounding pressure of their feet in a drum-like rhythm. They traveled so far into the heart of the woods that Pearl would have feared they were going the wrong way if the guide had been anyone other than Tilly. The old dog’s powerful nose had never once been wrong Pearl's entire life, and she couldn’t foresee that changing any time soon, even with old age setting in. 

The forest grew more and more unkempt the deeper they went. Gnarled trees grew thicker in width, their large roots swelling from the dirt like waves upon the ground. Long, twisting branches hung low enough to leap over. It was a terrain that would be difficult to undertake with any less experience than Pearl herself possessed. As it was, she maneuvered through the forest with practiced ease.

The cold of the winter air whipping through her hair as she ran and the light of the full moon beaming down onto her were among the most freeing feelings she’d ever experienced in her life. It always felt like she and Tilly were the only beings in the world

Unfortunately, it was hard to enjoy the feeling on tonight of all nights, because they were not simply out for an evening run. Instead, they were here in the heart of this forest to spy on their leader to find out what he was keeping from them after weeks- no, months - of obvious dishonesty.

Up until this point, she had put too much faith into Grian, hoping that he was just under a lot of stress and that was the reason for his strange behavior. She wanted nothing more than to play the part of dutiful informant for him to help further his cause, their cause.  However, as time went on, the job began to feel more and more slimy and wrong. Even when putting her doubts revolving around screwing over Gem aside, none of it felt right anymore. She could no longer overlook how dirty the job made her feel, how cruel Grian felt in his intentions and actions.

She shook the thought of Gem out of her mind. The all-consuming guilt was better saved for another night

So, while her heart raced with the adrenaline of the run, of the hunt, it also ached. A grief-like feeling boiled in her blood and gripped her lungs like a deadly pair of talons that sought to tear her apart from the inside. She couldn’t believe it had come to this, sneaking around and stalking after someone who was once her best friend.

But it had come to it. 

Grian wasn’t the same person that he was when she had met him in her youth. There was barely any proof that the mischievous but kindhearted avian had ever existed. In his place was a cagey, dismissive, untrusting, and suspicious person. Where in her heart was once trust and adoration, there was now only wariness and a bitter sense of resentment that seemed to grow day by day.

She had already made up her mind to find out the truth for herself by any means necessary long ago, it had only been a matter of when and where it would happen. It had felt like a prime piece of meat had been handed to her on a golden platter when Mumbo had let slip while she was visiting him the previous weekend that he believed Grian would be meeting with his man on the inside on the night of the full moon, just a day before their next group meeting.

He knew he made a mistake mentioning it to her immediately after the words left his mouth and refused to give up any other information, so she hadn’t been able to confirm anything right up until Tilly smelt Grian’s presence enter and then exit the city limits just as the sun began to set.

Pearl knew she had arrived almost instantly, and she skidded to a horrified halt. 

The aura of the forest changed from one foot fall to the next.  The comforting buzz of life from the forest was extinguished abruptly like a candle blown out in the wind, replaced by a static silence that buzzed in her ears so loud that she had the overwhelming urge to cover her ears, and she would have if not for the fact that she felt frozen in place, unable to move even a single inch.

The air became thick and oppressive, pressing in on her from all angles like it was a physical presence. She could practically feel it crawling along her skin like a dozen centipedes. Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat broke out along her whole body. It became impossible to breathe.

This was magic stronger than anything she thought was possible. She could basically taste it on her tongue, thick like molasses but not nearly as sweet. 

After the introduction of the grimoire into the mix, Pearl knew that Grian was dabbling in magic, but it was supposed to be a dying art. The strongest caster Pearl knew was Tango, and he could barely do more than summon enough fire to start a small bonfire. This amount of magic? It was unthinkable. It was dangerous. It was terrifying.

Tilly let out a low whine at her feet and it snapped Pearl out of her stupor. She gulped, her throat tight. She trembled lightly as she lowered herself down to run her hands through Tilly’s thick winter coat to ground herself. She took a few shaky breaths as she hunkered down into the underbrush with the old dog, praying that her moment of fear hadn’t caused her to be detected by whatever this was.

She tried to steal her nerves, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that in order for her to get what she came for, she would have to venture further into this disgusting mass of magic. 

Her mouth was dry as she began to move, and she swallowed in an attempt to bring some moisture back. She stayed crouched at Tilly’s height, holding onto the wolf-dog to keep her balance as she carefully guided the two of them further into the forest, now stepping carefully over the overgrown roots and taking more care to not step on twigs or leaves. They were in dangerous territory now; they could not afford to make any more noise than they already had.

She prayed to whatever force might be out there that whatever kind of magic this was, it could not detect her presence simply by virtue of her being there.

Unease settled on her like a slimy film, and she could not deny that she had thoughts of turning back now while she still had the chance. She had already come this far, though, she could not give up now simply because she was letting herself succumb to fear.

Her heart almost stopped in her chest as the low murmur of voices finally reached her ears. The volume slowly increased as she inched closer towards what she could only assume was the epicenter of this cluster of magic if the way it clung to her skin like tar was anything to go by. She halted her movement when the voices became loud enough for her to make out the words being said.

“- everything you asked for! This is small by comparison!” A voice shouted into the night.

“I would hardly call this a small request!” Pearl’s heart jumped at the familiar sound of Grian’s voice. He sounded frustrated 

It appeared that she had arrived right in the middle of an argument of sorts. She crawled behind a tree with a trunk big enough to hide her body, braced her hands on the rough bark, and leaned to the side to try and catch a peek.

There, in a small clearing no bigger than a few yards in either direction, stood three cloaked figures under the light of the full moon. All of their hoods were up, and their faces obscured. She could clearly make out Grian among them, his short stature and hunched posture as he crouched upon a fallen tree were dead giveaways of his identity. She couldn’t make out enough of the other two figures to decide their identities, but one of them held a book open in their hand. 

She quickly ducked back to be hidden fully by the trunk. She decided that with their positioning and their obscured face the likelihood of Pearl being caught was higher than her chances of catching a glimpse of Grian’s double man. Or double men? There were two figures, after all.

She closed her eyes and focussed back in on the conversation happening.

“I know for a fact that he has the ability to do it. Put that damn book to use and accept my conditions or this all ends here and now! ” The other voice bit out.

Pearl furrowed her brows. The voice sounded so very familiar and yet she could not place where she had heard it before. Tension grew in the already uneasy air as neither of them made a single noise, before Grian finally huffed, a displeased groan following the sound.

“You are making things a lot harder than they have to be.” He said. Pearl could perfectly envision him rubbing the spot between his eyes.

“I’m not denying that.” The other agreed. “But I am not backing down until you agree.”

“I cannot make any promises that it’ll work,” Scar’s voice suddenly interjected, causing Pearl’s whole body to tense even further. Tilly’s fur bristled under her palm. The man had always unsettled the both of them. In conjunction with the fact that the man had no scent, there was just something about him that was off, something that felt almost inhuman. 

Grian had also claimed that he went to these meetings alone. No one else in the resistance was supposed to know the identity of the double agent. Grian had very adamantly refused to tell any of them.

“But I will do what I can, you have my word on that.” Scar continued.

“A chance, that’s all that I ask for.” The mysterious voice said, almost pleading.

“And a chance you will get!” Scar bolstered loudly, his voice bouncing around in the stagnant air. A chance at what?

“Now that we’ve agreed to your ridiculous terms, will you answer my question?” Grian snarked.

“I don’t appreciate that jab, but yes, preparations are all ready. As long as there are no further screw ups on your end, everything should go well.” 

“Jab for jab, I see.” Grian said, now sounding slightly amused.

“I am only stating the truth. Your people left all sorts of obvious clues all over the castle, even after I made it almost laughably easy for you to be able to get the grimoire from the library.” 

“If you’re done talking about my team's incompetence, can you hand over what I came for?” Grian asked. 

Pearl heard the rustling of paper as the inside man presumably handed over some kind of delicate information. She bared her teeth, lip curling back at the subtle insult that was made at her expense. Getting into the castle relatively undetected was not nearly as easy as they were making it out to be. She was far from incompetent.

“And Gem herself made these?” Grian said, the parchment still ruffling, as if he was flipping through it. Pearl’s ears involuntarily perked up at the mention of the royal commander.

“That she did, though I have made some minor adjustments for your benefit.”  The other replied, and then they continued. “I actually have one more question before we end this meeting.”

Grian paused, “What is it? Do you have yet another impossible request to ask of me?”

“Something like that,” They replied simply.

“Oh? Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

“How long are you going to keep everyone in the dark? When are you going to start telling the truth?” They asked. Grian, at first, didn’t respond. Pearl heard him shuffle, his talons scrapping roughly against bark.

“...You are well aware of the reason the rest of the resistance can’t know your identity-”

“You know that's not what I mean,” They interrupted, “When are you going to tell the truth about everything.”

Pearl perked up, her eyes darting to the side even though it did nothing to help her see. This was what she had been waiting for. She already had confirmation that Grian was keeping things from them in the form of Scar’s deeper inclusion, but now she had further confirmation that he was keeping something more from them. Something big.

“They don’t need to know.” Grian replied without missing a beat, his tone harsh.

“They deserve to know. This is far too big of a deal to keep it a secret so close to doomsday, especially with their lives in the palm of your hands!” They tried to reason, their voice raising.

“I said they don’t need to know!” Grian shouted over the other, causing Pearl to jump, her shoulders going to her ears. Tilly emitted a low growl that Pearl quickly hushed. She had never heard Grian sound so angry, so…desperate before in her life.

“You know as well as I do that’s not true.” The other person responded in a low tone. “If thing’s go south, if even one little mistake occurs everything we’ve worked for, everything that’s led up to this, will all be for nothing.”

“It won’t come to that.” Grian all but whispered.

Pearl was so invested in the conversation that she barely noticed Tilly’s ears perking up, the old dog now at high attention. She thought nothing of it as Tilly pulled away from her to disappear into the underbrush, she simply moved her hand to clutch at the front of her cloak in place of Tilly’s fur.

“You don’t know that!” They shouted in response. “If you don’t tell them before D-day, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Grian interrupted harshly, “You’ll tell them for me? You know the second your involvement is revealed that worst case scenario you mentioned will be a reality for sure. You have less cards in this game than you believe you do. They don’t need to know.” 

Grian ground out that last part of his sentence, putting heavy emphasis on every single word to drive his stance home. A sick feeling swirled in Pearl’s stomach 

“You’re a bastard.” The other person spat, not arguing against Grian’s point.

“I think it’s best we cut this meeting here.” Grian responded dully, leaving no room for argument. “All we’ve done tonight is go in circles and fight with each other. We’re getting nowhere with any of this.”

“There you go, running away again.”

“Enough. Scar, you can drop the barrier now. We’re leaving.” Grian said. 

“Alrighty!” Scar’s chipper voice replied.

“They’re going to find out one way or another, Grian. You’d do well to lighten the blow for yourself while you still can.” The mysterious person said, only to be met with no response.

The book shut with a loud snap. Pearl had to stop herself from gasping as the feeling of magic disappeared suddenly and abruptly, pulled from the very air with violent force. The sounds of the night rushed back in an instant, now overly loud in her ears after being deprived of them for an extended period. She clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before snapping them open again, unwilling to let herself be caught off guard. Black dots danced in her vision.

In the time she had adjusted to the absence of magic, a more natural silence had fallen over the forest thicket, though the unease still sat heavy in her stomach. Cautiously, oh so cautiously, she leaned her back against the tree further and peeked around the bend, trying to gauge whether or not she was alone.

Her eyes widened and she immediately drew back with a choked off gasp.

Grian and Scar were nowhere to be seen, evidently having left while she was adjusting to the change in noise. His informant, however, was still stood in the same spot as previous. His hood was lowered, his face now on full display, his eyes reflecting the light as he gazed up at the moon with a forlorn expression. 

Slowly she leaned back around to confirm what she just saw. Sure enough, it was him; she was positive of it. There was no mistaking it, anyone in the kingdom would be able to recognize that face. She had no doubts of his identity, even as he turned his back to her to walk in the opposite direction. 

She couldn’t believe her eyes, even as she blinked and rubbed at them to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. Grian’s informant, the man who had betrayed the crown, it was-

“I know, I was surprised as well.” A voice suddenly whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth - to gasp, to scream, she wasn’t sure - but a rough palm was pressed over the lower half of her face before she could make any noise and an arm around her waist pulled her away from the tree she had been taking shelter behind.

She struggled, throwing her elbow into the ribs of her attacker and kicking at their knees in an attempt to break free as she was dragged away from the clearing and back into the darkness of the overgrown forest. Who had caught her? Where was Tilly? What was happening?

Somehow, she managed to get a firm grip on the wrist connected to the hand over her mouth and used her core strength to flip the person over her shoulder and onto their back. She twisted their wrist and planted her foot on their chest, immobilizing them as they let out a pained wheeze.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m not an enemy!” The attacker said frantically.

Pearl ignored them and pulled one of her knives out of the sheath on her leg with her free hand. She was about to crouch down for easy access to their throat when Tilly erupted from the underbrush and began licking the attacker’s face, her tail wagging as she did so.

“Tilly, what-?” She asked in disbelief as the person sputtered and pulled away from the dog slobber despite the way it pulled on Pearl’s hold on their arm. She released her death grip on the wrist and stumbled back. The stranger pushed Tilly away by the snout and sat up, causing their hood to fall.

It was the Crestian man, Joel, Pearl believed his name was.

She crouched next to him and grabbed ahold of his collar before dragging them face to face. The man let out an “eep!” and raised his hands to show that he meant no harm, his eyes blown wide. Tilly let out a displeased huff against Pearl’s shoulder, but she ignored her in favour of glaring at the Crestian in her grasp.

“What in the hells are you doing here?” She hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her volume down. Not that it mattered, their initial scuffle had likely already been seen and heard anyway, but it was the principal of the matter.

“The same as you, I imagine.” Joel stated as he leaned away from her in a way that was undoubtedly straining his neck. “Neither of us trusts Grian.”

Her eyes widened. She dropped him roughly before standing and walking a few feet away, running a hand through her wild hair and knocking her hood off. She crossed her arms and gave him a look over her shoulder

“Is that really something you should be announcing so brazenly while he might still be near?” She questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“They’re gone by now. Not even the other guy saw us,” Joel said with a wave of his hand. He stood and dusted himself off, rubbing at his tender shoulder before pointing at Tilly with his thumb. “Besides, I think your mutt would know if the blokes were close anyway. I was on the other side of the clearing, and she sniffed me right out. I only barely managed to stop myself from screaming bloody murder when she latched onto the cuff of my trousers and led me to you.”

“Don’t call her that.” Pearl snapped, reaching down to pet Tilly’s ear. Tilly would smell Grian if he was close and alert Pearl immediately, though, so he was right on that part. They probably were safe to be talking. “You make a lot of assumptions, you know.”

“I like to think of them as observations, not assumptions.” Joel said, pretentiously shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, am I wrong?”

“Whether or not I trust Grian is none of your business.” Pearl said, her lip curling in annoyance. She turned away from him. “Just forget you saw me here and I’ll do the same for you.”

“Why don’t we join forces?” Joel asked, hurrying to keep up with her as she began moving through the forest. 

“And why would we do that?” Pearl asked, not even looking at him.

“It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? He’s lying to us, we don’t trust him, and we have a common goal.” Joel stated.

“There you go again, not only assuming I don’t trust him, but that the two of us have some kind of goal  in common.” She said, shaking her head. Tilly walked between them, turning her head back and forth to look at both of them each time they spoke.

“Sneaking through the underbrush isn’t exactly trusting behavior, in my opinion.” Joel said. From her peripheral vision, she could see him raise an eyebrow.

“It’s…not that I don’t trust him.” She said hesitantly. She shook her head, wondering why she was even indulging him this far.

“Then what is it?” He asked, cursing under his breath as he tripped over a root and almost fell flat on his face before catching himself roughly on the bark of a tree.

“Why do you care?” She snapped.

“I”m trying to gauge whether or not I should be working with this man.You saw who he was working with! You felt that insane magic, which he somehow felt no need to mention he had at his disposal! How do any of us know this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to use us and then dispose of us once we’ve served our use? ” Joel reasoned, gesturing grandly with his hands.

“It seems like you have already decided that he isn’t worthy of your trust.” Pearl pointed out. She pulled a branch out of her way, ducking under it and then letting it go. It snapped back and hit Joel right in the face. He sputtered and flailed before righting himself once more.

“Well, yes, I have, to be completely honest. He has been shady and secretive about his real intentions from the very start; I have been against this whole alliance ever since it was first proposed. The only reason I’m here is because my que- the queen insisted his cause was worth supporting.” Joel said.

“Then what does what I have to say matter?” She asked. “Whatever you think I’ll do for you, you’re wrong. I have no interest in working against him.”

“You say that, but I know you want the truth just as much as I do. You heard them, whatever it is that he’s keeping from us - all of us, you included - is something that could put our lives at risk. Don’t you want to know what we’re really dealing with?” Joel insisted. 

Pearl’s steps slowed to a stop and she glared at her feet. She wanted to turn him down a second time, but she had no real argument against his words. If she truly had no interest whatsoever in working against Grian, she wouldn’t have come here tonight. They wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“Even if that is the case, I have nothing to offer you.” She said after a moment.

“You can offer me perspective.” Joel shot back immediately. “What brought on your distrust?  What makes a supposedly devoted member of the resistance turn on her leader?”

“I already told you, I don’t distrust Grian.” She said with a huff. “It’s just that he’s…different. He’s different from the avian I knew as a child. It’s like he’s an entirely different person.”

“Isn’t that to be expected? I mean, people change with age, it’s highly unlikely he would be the same boy you knew. Surely that’s not enough to breed the uncertainty that you bear.” Joel said.

“I never expected him to be exactly the same, of course not. I know people change. I’ve changed a lot since my youth.” She defended. Once she began, suddenly she could not stop. The words spilled and spilled from her mouth like vomit. 

“It’s that he’s changed so much. There isn’t so much as a trace of that sweet boy. The Grian I knew was mischievous and a bit of a devil, sure, but he was never ever cruel like he is now. He was never once dismissive and full of himself. He was caring and kind. He would give you the skin off his back if he thought you needed it. 

“He was like the older brother I never had. He was my best friend. When he first met me, we were both starving orphans on the street that no one gave two damns about. He saved me from starving to death when no one else would spare so much as a heal of moldy bread. He gave me the very last bit of his food with a smile on his face even though he was also starving. 

“We kept each other safe; we kept each other warm during the winter. He always did whatever he could to make me smile and laugh even when there was nothing to be happy about. He was like a light in the darkest of times.

“He-he made me feel loved and safe when the world wanted nothing more than for me to disappear. But-but I just can’t see that part of him anymore, and it- it-!”

“It what?” Joel prodded gently as she struggled to find her words.

“It scares me.” Pearl whispered. She hadn’t noticed that thick tears were rolling heavily down her cheeks until she tasted the salt on her lips. Her lower lip trembled as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sniffled in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Tilly whimpered, leaning into Pearl’s side in an attempt to comfort her. She swallowed and then continued. “I want to know if I’m doing the right thing, helping him with this insane plan, even if I agree that the king needs to be replaced. I want to know if my Grian is still in there somewhere, if he’s really doing this for the benefit of other people and not…”

“For himself?” Joel asked. His expression was more somber now. Pearl nodded, squeezing her eyes to rid them of a few more stray tears. She took a deep breath and then nodded again, more firm and resolute this time.

“I’ll work with you.” She said, “I’ll help you figure out the truth of what’s going on. If not for your benefit, then my own. And if not for my own, then for the people of this kingdom and yours.”

A smile broke out across Joel’s face and he clapped his hands together. “Does this mean I have your support to bring his secrecy up during the meeting tomorrow night?”

“...Yes, you have my support.” She said with a sigh, once again wondering if she was making the right decision. It felt nice, however, having her feelings validated in this way. It had been so long that she had been holding that within herself.

“Yes! We’ll confront him together and demand answers!” Joel said, pumping his fist. He paused and then looked at her, his moonlit concern evident. “How likely it is, do you recon, that your peers would turn on us. Is their loyalty to Grian blind?”

Pearl thought for a moment. “I know that there are others that are just as unsettled by Grian’s behavior as I am. If it comes down to it, they’ll be on our side no matter what happens. Others…they’re so desperate for this rule to be overturned that they don’t care what Grian’s hidden motives might be, they’ll follow him. If I had to guess, it’ll be split nearly even. And this is only us assuming Grian’s secret is deal breaking to even us.”

The thought of infighting this late into the plan was frightening to Pearl, but she could not deny that this was something that needed to happen. If it came to it, and lives were at risk, the plan would just have to take a back burner.

“That’s good enough for me.” Joel said with a shrug. “Grian's plan works in Coral Crest’s favour, so I really hope it doesn’t come down to a divide, but we’ll be prepared for it if it does.”

He then reached forward and handed her a piece of parchment. She turned it over in her hands, her brow furrowing as she realized that it was entirely blank. The only thing that tipped her off to the fact that it wasn’t a normal piece of paper was the way her fingers lightly tingled under its rough surface.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s enchanted parchment. I have its sister piece with me, so whatever you write on your piece will be transferred over to mine and vice versa. They’re old, made back when magic was in its height, so their enchantment has worn over the years, but they should still work well enough if you have something urgent you need to convey to me before the next meeting. Grian isn’t the only one with magic at his disposal…though ours is a little more tame..”

“That’s amazing…I didn’t even know such enchantments even existed.” Pearl said in awe.

“Yeah, well, they’re as rare as they come, so you be careful with that. I don’t have another one.” Joel said, pointing a finger at her.

She marveled at the parchment for a second more before shoving it into the waistband of her trousers, much to Joel’s apparent displeasure as his face twisted up. The two of them shook hands and parted ways, electing to go in opposite directions to avoid the chances of them being seen together once they reentered the city.

Pearl kept a hand on Tilly’s scruff for comfort as they walked back to the bakery. The wolf-dog kept so close to her that Pearl would have been tripping over her with each step if this was not a familiar song and dance that they did every time Pearl was nervous.

She didn’t know if she had made the right decision in agreeing to support Joel. She was just as scared and unsure now as she was when she set off at the beginning of the night. The trembles going down her frame weren’t from the cold. She chewed on her lip enough that she feared the delicate skin would break under the abuse.

She had a lot of thinking to do to make sure tomorrow night didn't end in great disaster 

For now, she was ready to drop with the exhaustion of the night weighing on her. She almost sighed in relief as Big Bakeries came into view, the building a sight for sore eyes. She took no note of the light in the window above as she entered the alleyway and rounded to the back. She led Tilly into the bakery through the backdoor using the key Bigb had entrusted to her years ago, which she kept on her person at all times. She locked up behind herself and climbed the stairs.

She yawned as she pushed the door to her and Bigb’s shared bedroom open, stretching her arms high above her head as she crossed the threshold. She paused as Tilly let out a confused whimper. Pearl's eyes snapped open, her arms dropping down to her weapons in an instant.

The candle still burned, nearly a stub at this point, illuminating the small room with its dying light. Bigb was sitting in his chair facing the door, his arms crossed over his chest with his eyes closed, but they slowly opened as soon as the door creaked loud enough to announce their presence.

That was not what gave Pearl and Tilly pause, however. That honour went to the figure sitting on the sill of the open window.

“Welcome back, Pearl,” Bigb said, “You have a visitor.” 

                                           ❀       ❀      ❀

The gentle pink of the dawn sunrise filtered in through the frosty castle windows, scattering pale, rose tinted sunbeams along the high walls and red carpets. Though Gem had been awake since long before sunrise, she couldn’t help the sneaky yawn that escaped her as she passed by several groggy castle staff who were just now rising to attend to their duties, their own yawns far too contagious for her to handle.

She had hardly slept a wink the night before, the revelation about the grimoire far too heavy on her mind to allow her any rest. She simply could not accept the idea that it had been a simple thief that easily. It seemed far too convenient.

So, she decided to take a day “off” to visit the library and speak to the librarian for herself. Luckily there were not many preparations to make for the party anymore, and she had already sorted out that week's patrol routes and divided them up between her soldiers. The only thing she really had to do was oversee training in the evenings, and she already convinced Impulse to take that over for her, leaving her with enough free time to do as she pleased.

She shouldered open the grand doors that spanned from floor to ceiling, barely grunting at the weight of them like most would. The smell of parchment, ink, and dust immediately assaulted her nose.

Thick drapes were pulled away from long, palladian windows all around the vast room to let that rosey sunlight into the otherwise dark, cluttered space. The large, overflowing oak bookshelves sprawled so high that they kissed the ceiling, which were decorated with gorgeous murals of times long past, with flowing swirls of magic painted in pops of bright and bold colours. 

The library was two floors tall, with a winding staircase in the center of the room, where also sat the large desk that the head librarian occupied. On this second floor - which was off limits to those without clearance - ladders were fixed onto the ends of the shelves, their purpose being to reach books that were otherwise too high. 

The floors were marbled, but were interrupted by plush red carpets in several spaces, mainly those that would see a lot of traffic like walkways between shelves. There were chairs and tables scattered around and near the windows, each one housing a candle stick.

She made her way over to the head librarian's desk, flashing the woman a wide smile when she looked up as Gem approached.

“Hello, Sam.” She greeted, setting her hands on the cold oak. “I got your report. Would you mind showing me to the case where the book was stolen?”

The middle aged woman pushed her wide, circular spectacles further up her nose, giving her  eyes a large appearance as she blinked owlishly up at Gem. Her blonde and brunette mixed hair fell from the lazy bun it was pulled into at the nape of her neck, strands of it falling around her shoulders and into her face. Her long, boney fingers smoothed down the pages of the book she was reading, her eyebrow cocking in tune with the tilt of her head. An amused smile graced her thin lips.

“Right to business as always, aren’t ya, miss?” She asked before standing. 

“I’m all work, no fun, they say.” Gem joked with a laugh as she followed Sam around her desk and up the winding staircase that sat behind it. The librarian walked with a bit of a hunch, her hands folded behind her back; her lavender dress swayed with each step she took. 

Gem looked around as they ascended the stairs, their steps clicking with each new stair they climbed. She really wished that she took more time to visit the library every now and then, it really was a beautiful place. There were so many books that the shelves were all bursting at the seams, overflowing. 

The sunlight coming in through the windows was taking on a more golden hue compared to the previous pink as they made their way over to the sturdy glass displays atop a long table situated in the middle of the room that were previously unseen from down below. They were simple things, just dark oak frames filled with panes of glass on all sides as well as the top; their bottoms made of deep, polished obsidian. 

Gem looked at each of them carefully; there were three of them in total. There was a gemstone in the smallest case on the rightmost half of the table. It was a deep purple around the edges, but took on a pink to white gradient towards the center, which was cracked open like a horrible wound to show off a deep, blood red heart on the inside. 

On the leftmost side of the table was a thin wand made of a lavender tinted, white wood Gem didn’t have the knowledge to identify. It was embellished with delicate vines and flowers carved into its long faded surface. Capping its bottom and its tip were fine silver that was remarkably polished and taken care of despite the obvious signs of age that the rest of the wand showed. 

Her eyes zoned in on the empty middle case.

“Right, well, this is it.” Sam declared, giving a lackluster flourish of her arms before letting them drop to her side.

There were no obvious signs of tampering, and it made sense as to why. The method to open the cases was almost laughably simple; all one had to do was lift the frame off of the bottom to gain access to the delicate wire stands within. It was remarkably easy to steal from them. It was an oversight that had Gem gritting her teeth and mentally smacking herself in the forehead.

“Tell me about the stolen item.” She requested. Sam nodded, her wide eyes growing glossy with excitement.

“These are a collection, actually. We believe that all three items were once owned by a powerful wizard in ancient times, long, long before any of us were born! The first item here is The Evoker’s Wand. It was said to have been handcrafted by the caster himself as a rite of passage from youth into adulthood! Wands were actually used only for minor spells, as their ability to conduct magic was very limited due to their size, making them the perfect items for fledgling wizards. Though there have been casters who were capable of producing grand amounts of magic with wands even smaller than this one!

“And then this stone here, I know it doesn’t look all that glamorous, but it's actually a crystal that was once used in the tip of the wizard’s staff. It was said to have been one of many of its kind, one of the End Crystals of myth! This one has long since lost any magical properties, but these crystals used to be grand conductors of magic that were highly sought after. They say that the spells the wizard was able to produce with this crystal were world shattering.” Sam said, her hands up around her face, here shoulders hunched with her glee.

“And the missing book?” Gem asked with an amused tone. "With how you’ve described the other items, I would think they would be the first someone would think to steal. I hardly believe this grimoire was simply just decorative if these other items are so great.”

Sam’s face flushed a little with what Gem assumed was embarrassment. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture before carrying on. 

“Right, yes,” She cleared her throat again. “The grimoire… it came with the other items when the king - the previous king, not our king Ren - bought them, so we assumed it was part of the set, but it really was an anomaly. We don’t know much about it to be quite honest with you, miss. The writing was a language no one has been able to decipher before, and the cover was almost entirely destroyed long before it ever came to us. 

“I have personally taken to calling it ‘The Eye’ because of the strange drawing in the center of the book, which took up two entire pages. It felt like the book was staring at you whenever it was open to those pages…I imagine it was a very powerful spell book back when the owner was alive, but it was hardly worth anything now in the magic sense. That's what makes it purely decorative now. There probably isn’t a soul alive today that can read its text.” Sam finished with a shrug of her shoulders.

Gem bit her lip.

“Why do you think the thief chose to steal the book over any of the other treasures? Surely the crystal would sell for more. Or even the wand, the detailing is quite beautiful.” She questioned.

Sam thought for a moment before she shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. To anyone who doesn’t know the history, the wand is simply a pretty piece of wood, and like I said, the crystal isn’t all that glamorous after years of wear and tear. The book itself was damaged as well, but it was an easier fix than the crystal.  If I had to guess, they simply thought the book would sell for more.”

Gem nodded, though it left her with more questions than she had answers. She would just have to accept it as it was; a thief looking for a quick bit of coin stole something from the king’s collection and the choice was likely random. But something still just didn’t sit right with her…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help in your investigation.” Sam said remorsefully, rubbing her elbow nervously.

“Oh, no, you’ve been wonderful. It’s not your fault that this is such a strange mystery with no substantial leads.” Gem said, waving her hand in a way she hoped was more reassuring than it was dismissive.

“Is that all you came here for, miss?” Sam asked.

“Actually,” She started, looking up, “I was wondering if you had any books on Evalore?”

Sam blinked at her in that owlish way of hers. “Surely I do! Would you like me to go fetch them for you?”

“I would love it if you could help me find any that you have.” Gem said with a nod. Then she tacked on. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“It is hardly a bother! Barely a soul comes here anymore, I delight at being able to do my job.” Sam said in a somewhat joking tone, “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable at one of the tables and I’ll bring you what I find?”

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask that of you. Let me help collect them?” Gem requested.

“Oh thank the gods, I just hate climbing those ladders.” Sam said, shoulders sinking with relief. Gem laughed heartily as Sam began leading her through the library to collect the books.

The sun was properly in the sky by the time Gem was sitting at one of the tables in the far corner of the library with a stack of books in front of her. She had expected there to be more, because in the end all she ended up with were seven books, three of which were children's books of pictures and few words.

“Though I am sure you already know this I must still warn you, miss. When it comes to Evalore, most everything you read or hear about the tragedy itself will be more myth than reality. It was incredibly hard for scholars to grasp the reality of the situation since it was such an isolated incident. Because of this, it is likely you will run into many inconsistencies across sources.” Sam said, patting the topmost book on the stack.

“I understand. I figured as much would be true.” Gem said.

“Then I’ll let you get to it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Sam said before disappearing around the shelves to return to her desk.

With a long, suffering sigh, Gem pulled the first textbook from the top of the pile and began reading.

The first few books described the land in glorious detail. Like Skizz had told her, their kingdom was situated in the heart of the great redwood forests, but what he hadn’t told her was that the kingdom itself was inside of the trees. 

Within the pages of these books were drawings of beautiful, unique buildings carved into, and built around, the tops of these giant trees, with pathways and bridges connecting each and every one of them together. Spiraling staircases were built around the trees all the way from bottom to top, but they were not needed by most of the inhabitants because they were a civilization of avians.

Gem had  heard that there was once a kingdom of purely avian citizens during the time of magic, but somehow Evalore had never come up by name before.

According to two separate books, Evalore’s main form of trade was their spiced wine, which was harvested from the sprawling apple orchards that they cultivated on the border of their kingdom. However, another book also claimed that they made a pretty penny off of jewelry made from polished stones, beads, and their own feathers. Gem ran her fingers down the beautiful drawing of a bracelet, wondering what it would have looked like in person. 

Music was another thing Evalore had been known for, particularly their flute work. It was custom to carve an instrument from the wood that was dug out of a newly created home and give it to the occupant as a gift. Most often it was a flute of some kind, but string instruments were also common.

It came as no surprise that they were once host to competitions pertaining to flight, including races and diving. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that they also hosted wrestling competitions during their yearly festival.

She soon found herself lost in the pages of the books, immersing herself in the history of this land which no longer existed as the hours passed like the blink of an eye. They painted a picture of a beautiful kingdom full of beautiful people and beautiful culture. 

However, the tragedy she was hoping to learn more about was hardly mentioned more than once or twice, and only as an afterthought.

After countless hours of reading, she knew just as much as she did at the start of the day. By all accounts the fall came out of nowhere. There wasn’t a single explanation in sight for the sudden massacre and destruction.

There was no mention of a foreign power at play, no mention of growing tensions with another kingdom. Hells, there wasn’t even any reports of growing tensions within the confines of the kingdom itself. No unrest, no uprisings, no interpersonal wars, nothing. Evalore was thriving and happy one day and then it was gone the very next.

Gem sighed deeply and sank into the chair with a groan, her forehead resting on the edge of the book with her nose squishing against the wood of the table.

It truly felt as though answers were never within her grasp.

She heard footsteps approaching her through the near silent library, and then a familiar voice said, “I was beginning to think we needed to send out a search party.”

“Hi, Scott.” She said with a sigh. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair to get a few stray curls out of her face. She wished she had the foresight that morning to wear her hair back or in a bun. “Am I needed somewhere?”

“No, I was just wondering if you were getting up to. Surely looking into the grimoire situation wouldn’t have taken this long.” He said. Dusky hues of purple and blue backdropped him from the window as he sat down in the chair across from hers. He picked up one of the books and then raised an eyebrow. “Evalore?”

“Yeah,” She confirmed, planting a cheek in her palm and grabbing one of the unread children’s books from the pile. “I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but I haven’t found it.”

“You must have heard what the knights have been saying, I assume.” Scott said, sighing as he set the book back down on the table.

“That we’re going to end up just like that?” She asked, eyes still downcast. She flipped the children's book open lazily, running her finger tips down the inked parchment. 

“Evalore was an unpredictable tragedy, no one knows how or why it happened. The situations are entirely different.” He said softly, reaching out to take ahold of her hand in a comforting manner.

“I see as much now. I guess I was hoping that if I found out what caused the fall of Evalore, I could pinpoint a way to prevent whatever it is that Grian is planning and make sure we don’t end up in ruin.” She turned the page of the children’s book, “But it was all for nothing. It feels as though everything I have been doing lately is all for nothing.”

“Come on now, Gem, you know that’s not true.” Scott said, though his words fell on deaf ears.

Gem turned the page to the book and paused, her posture straightening as her eyes landed on something…peculiar. She pulled her hand away from Scott’s and took the book into a proper hold, flipping back to the first page.

This particular children's book had no author, only the initials F.S delicately inked in the bottom left corner of the cover, and it had taken a more childish method of telling Evalore’s tale, with a baby bird as the main character and a snake as a villain. It was so fictionalized that she hadn’t paid it any mind when she first spotted it. Truthfully, she hadn’t even intended to read it in the first place, but now she was studying each page with great care.

The party was grand, with flowers aplenty and food in abundance. The birds danced and danced around the sparkling fire until the stars were high in the sky. Their joy knew no bounds.

The baby bird had long grown tired of the party. He was exhausted, his little body craving for nothing more than the soft leaves that cradled him in the bottom of his nest. He searched and searched around for his mama and papa, for he had yet to learn how to fly and needed their help in getting home, but they were nowhere to be seen.

When he found them not in the thicket of the party, he wandered out onto the thinner branches. But before he knew what was happening, his little talons slipped! 

The chick fell from the alcove so high up in the trees, falling past colourful leaves and flowers, his little wings flapping desperately to stop his fall to no avail. His tiny body bounced off of the soft soil of the ground he’d never touched before. 

Everything was new, everything was strange. He was so, so very scared. 

He knew the way up, but he was too small, too weak to make the climb on his own. His wings were too tiny, his skills too undeveloped. He could not make it home on his own.

“Won’t someone help me!” He cried from the ground so far below the branches. The jovial noise above continued on, oblivious to his pleas

“I can help you.” A voice whispered from the underbrush.

Frightened, the chick turned to the voice. A snake, long and purple and covered in speckles of black slithered from the shadows. His eyes glowed like the embers of a hungry fire.

“Who are you?” The chick asked.

“I am one who watches. I watched as you fell, I watched you cried, I watched as they ignored you.” The snake hissed in reply.

He circled the young bird, his long body coiling around and around the chick’s own small one. The chick looked up at the snake, his tears beginning to dry.

“If you welcome me into your home, I can bring you up high into the trees.” The snake hissed.

“But Mr. Snake,” The chick asked, “Your teeth are so sharp  and your gullet so large. Will you not eat me and my own?”

“No, little chick, I would never eat you. I am a friend!” The snake replied. "I only wish to help."

“Do you promise?” The chick asked.

“Why, of course I do.” The snake said, his words sincere where his eyes were not.

And so the chick climbed atop the snake’s back and led him through the branches, welcoming him into the tree he called home. Up and up they went.

However, as soon as the two of them made it to the top, screams erupted!

The snake darted for the rest of the chick’s flock, throwing him from his back with little care as he devoured all in his path. They tried to run, but they were too slow. The once loud, happy party was now silent save for the chick’s cries.

“Snake, you promised!” The chick weeped. “You lied, you lied!

“Oh, little chick, I never lied. I promised not to eat you and I have not.” The snake hissed with eyes as cruel and as sharp as a the fangs in his mouth, his belly now swollen.

"How could you? I thought you were my friend!" Cried the chick

"I am one who watches. I watched as you fell. I watched as you cried. I watched as you foolishly trusted me-

There! Gem paused her reading on the page that had initially caught her interest. It was a full face shot of the snake. He was drawn to be smug, his cruel face taking up the entire page in a way that was undoubtedly meant to be unsettling, but that wasn’t what was intriguing. What was were the markings etched onto the snake’s forehead, which was exposed with the downward angle he was drawn in.

It was an eye.

“Gem?” Scott questioned, his confusion evident.

She ignored him, jumping to her feet with the book in hand and taking off through the library with her mind racing. She bumped into several shelves on her way, knocking more than a few books to the ground in her haste. Sam was looking in her direction with wide, alarmed eyes as Gem approached with alarming speed. She skidded to a halt in front of Sam and shoved the book into her face.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, flinching back.

“Was this similar to the eye you saw in the grimoire?” Gem asked, panting for breath. Scott stumbled to a stop behind her.

“What is going on?” He asked.

Sam looked between her, Scott, and the book with that same startled expression before she adjusted her glasses and squinted her large eyes at the page. Her eyes widened again and she took the book from Gem’s grasp. Her mouth fell open and she blinked a few times before looking up at Gem. She set the book down gently on her desk and nodded once.

“What is this about?” Sam asked uncertainty. 

“Is it at all possible that the stolen grimoire was a relic from Evalore?” Gem asked, ignoring Sam’s own question.

“From Evalore?” Scott asked in disbelief. “Everything from Evalore was destroyed during the incident, it would have been a bigger deal if Wintertide got its hands on even a piece of its vast wealth. No one who has handled that book has ever made such a connection.”

“It’s-it’s possible. We came into possession of all three treasures during the first war, and the king never did say exactly where he got them from… But the grimoire was hundreds of years older than the kingdom of Evalore itself, and it wasn’t even written in the language that they spoke. That would only raise the question of why it was there.” Sam said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “And as sir Scott pointed out, no one has ever placed such a high value on the old book before. It really was just a dusty old book.”

“Then how do you explain the similarity?” Gem asked, stamping her finger into the page for emphasis, accidentally crinkling the page a small amount with the force used.

“I can’t say I have ever even seen eyes used as a symbol in relation to Evalore.” Scott said. Sam shook her head.

“Nor have I,” She said, “Though I can’t deny how strikingly similar the eye looks to the one in the grimoire…”

“Surely it can’t be more than a coincidence.” Scott said. He carried on, a little more exacerbated with his next words. “It’s nothing more than a children's book, Gem.”

“Surely it has to be more,” Gem said. She grabbed the book, flipped it around and then brought it back to the first page. “It seems an odd twist of fate that a book with a similar symbol within its pages as the one in this book, one that is speculated to be of high magical value, has gone missing so soon after Grian has announced to me a suspicious ‘plan’. Not only that, but there is a party fast approaching, a party just like the one in this book.”

“Slow down, Gem. When did we begin assuming that it was the resistance that stole the book? I thought we had decided that it was a thief looking for riches.” Scott said, holding a hand up. 

“That was before this!” Gem exclaimed, gesturing to the book.

“You cannot seriously be suggesting that Grian has based his plot for overthrowing the kingdom of Wintertide off of a fictitious children’s book.” Scott said slowly.

“That’s not what I’m suggesting!” Gem said, annoyed. “What I believe is that somehow Grian made the connection that Wintertide was unknowingly in possession of a powerful magic relic and intends to make use of it at this party.”

Scott was silent for a moment, taking in her words. 

“Even if that were the case, what could he really hope to accomplish? No one who can cast the kind of magic that it takes to bring down entire kingdoms even lives in this day and age. There is no way he could ever hope to cast that kind of spell.” Scott reasoned.

“With enough man power, he just might.” Gem said, deadly serious.

A pin could be heard with how silent it suddenly became in the library. Sam looked between the two of them with clear horror and fear written all over her now very, very pale face. Scott took one look at the librarian and then took a hold of Gem’s arm, pulling her out of Sam’s ear shot before leaning in and whispering.

“Do you understand the implication of this theory of yours?” Scott asked, unease, or perhaps fear, leaking into his words. Gem nodded.

“Whatever it was that happened to Evalore all those years ago, Grian is trying to replicate it.”