#he calms down a little and focuses it more on our family and us

[strawberrystepmom]

Kendall :(((( mid-forties husband gojo who still teases & flirts with you each day :((( never looses his boyish charm :((((

meeting up with the kids who are now fully grown with their own lives and dreams and children (some of them!) and they’re like he looks at you the exact same way he did back then :((((((((((((( what if I perish

[aspenmissing]

Could you write the Arcane characters interacting with Reader's baby bump? (The male characters in a romantic way and the female characters in a platonic / best friends way)

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴜᴍᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4045 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ?

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ!! < 3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴍᴇʟ

JAYCE

Jayce was in his workshop, tinkering with his latest invention, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the warmth of the apartment. Y/N had been radiating this special glow ever since they'd found out she was expecting, and he couldn't help but marvel at how life had changed for them.

He paused his work, glancing toward the door, his face softening as he caught sight of Y/N entering. She walked in with a gentle sway, her baby bump clearly visible beneath her loose-fitting blouse. Jayce smiled, completely distracted by the sight of her.

"You know," he said, his voice a little distracted as he stood from his desk, "you’re glowing even more than usual today."

Y/N chuckled, placing a hand on her belly, a look of playful disbelief crossing her face. "I think you just say that because you’re always trying to get me to smile."

"Well," Jayce took a step closer, gently resting his hand on the curve of her bump, "it's hard not to smile when you're carrying our little one." His voice dropped softly, filled with awe as his fingers lightly traced over her stomach, feeling the little movements of the baby.

Y/N leaned into him, her head resting on his chest as she looked up at him with a smile. "I still can't believe it's happening. Feels like just yesterday I was getting used to being here, and now... we’re here, together, with a baby."

Jayce’s heart swelled as he pulled her into a tender embrace, his hand still resting gently over her bump. "It feels like a dream, doesn’t it?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But it’s our dream, and I couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone else."

Y/N laughed softly, the sound of it filling the room. "I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad it’s always been you."

Jayce held her tighter, savoring the moment. His mind raced with excitement for the future, for their little family that was already so loved. As he looked down at her, he whispered, "We’re going to be amazing parents, you know."

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair. "I know. And I’ll have you by my side through it all."

As Jayce gave her belly one more gentle rub, he couldn’t resist. "Do you think they’ll be as smart as their mom?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow playfully. "As smart? Oh, they’ll definitely have my brains... but they’ll also have your charm and wit, so it’s bound to be a good mix."

Jayce laughed, his hands still lingering on her stomach. "A perfect blend. I can't wait to meet them."

The two of them stood there for a moment, wrapped in the peace and joy of the life growing between them, knowing that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

VIKTOR

The dim light of Viktor's lab flickered softly as he worked on his latest project, the steady hum of machines in the background. Y/N sat nearby, her legs tucked under her as she rested on a plush chair. Her hand gently cradled her baby bump, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she observed Viktor. He had been focused on his work all day, but there was a soft tension in the air as his thoughts would occasionally wander to her.

He looked up from his workbench, meeting her gaze. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

Y/N nodded, but her smile grew wider when she saw the subtle way Viktor’s eyes lingered on her bump. She loved the way his face softened whenever he looked at her, especially now. The early months had been a whirlwind of uncertainty, but now, as the pregnancy progressed, Viktor had become a rock for her—steady, calm, and full of quiet affection.

"Are you sure you're not overworking yourself?" Y/N teased, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of her bump.

Viktor hesitated for a moment before walking over to her. His hands were warm as they cupped the sides of her stomach gently, his eyes studying her as if the simple act of touching her was an overwhelming thing. "I’m not overworking," he murmured, his voice low. "But… I do worry." He carefully placed his hand over her belly, letting his fingers rest softly against the growing life within.

Y/N chuckled softly. "I’m fine, Viktor. She’s fine, too," she added, feeling the baby shift slightly beneath her skin. She glanced down at his hand, which was resting on her bump, the moment tender and intimate.

Viktor’s expression softened, and for a brief second, his usually sharp and meticulous demeanor melted away. His eyes lit up with something indescribable, a mix of awe and tenderness as he gazed at the baby bump. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for any movement, like he was trying to connect to the tiny life growing inside her.

And then, it happened—a small, subtle kick. Viktor’s eyes widened, and a soft laugh escaped his lips. He placed his hand gently on the spot where the movement had come from, as if trying to reassure himself that it was real. "Did you feel that?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath, full of wonder.

Y/N nodded, her smile widening. "Yes, I did." She reached up to gently touch his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I think she’s excited to meet her papa."

Viktor’s face flushed slightly at the word. His hand remained on her belly, his thumb moving in slow, careful circles as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I will be ready when the time comes," he said, his voice a quiet promise. "I’ll be right here, every step of the way."

Y/N’s heart swelled with affection for him, knowing how deeply he meant every word. She leaned into him, closing her eyes and letting the moment envelop them both—together, as a family, anticipating the future they would share.

And as Viktor continued to tenderly touch her belly, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace, knowing that this tiny life would be surrounded by so much love.

JAYVIK

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle warmth across the room. Y/N woke slowly, stretching out on the bed, her body cradled in the comfort of the soft sheets. Her eyes fluttered open to see Viktor beside her, his head resting gently on her shoulder, a peaceful expression on his face. His hand, warm and steady, lay across her belly—his touch so tender, it almost felt like he was holding the life within her in a protective embrace.

For a moment, Y/N simply gazed at him, the sensation of his presence calming and reassuring. She then shifted slightly, turning her head to glance at the space beside the bed. "Where's Jayce?" she murmured softly, her voice still thick with sleep, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment.

Viktor stirred slightly at her words, his eyes blinking open, his gaze warm but sleepy. "He's probably in the workshop or the kitchen... Where else would he be?" He smiled, but Y/N's eyes were already drawn back to the movement beneath the covers.

Curious, she lifted the edge of the blanket to peek under it. There, to her surprise, was Jayce, his face buried in the side of her baby bump, his large hand gently caressing it. He looked so serene, his eyes closed, and there was a quiet hum of contentment as his fingers traced slow, soft patterns along her skin.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight. The love and care the two of them showed, even in the smallest moments, made her heart swell. Viktor, now fully awake, chuckled softly as he saw the scene. "He's... always been a bit of a morning person," he said, his voice full of affection.

Y/N laughed softly, running a hand through Jayce's hair. "I think he just wanted to get as close to the baby as possible," she teased, her voice light.

Jayce, hearing her, lifted his head slightly, his face still pressed against her belly. His eyes glimmered with affection as he met her gaze. "Couldn't resist," he murmured with a grin, his hand never stopping its gentle motions on her belly.

Viktor leaned in, brushing his lips against Y/N's forehead, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "Looks like we have our own little family morning ritual."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of her love for both of them as they shared this intimate moment. The room felt filled with an almost magical peace—a quiet reminder that despite the chaos of the world outside, they had each other, and that was enough.

She placed a hand on Viktor's, the other resting on Jayce's head. "I love you both," she whispered softly, her heart full. The two men, in their own unique ways, both smiled, their love for her and the baby clear in their eyes.

"We love you, too," Viktor replied softly, and Jayce added, "More than anything."

As the three of them lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the outside world felt distant, and for that moment, they were content to simply be.

VANDER

It was a typical day in the undercity, the hustle and bustle of Zaun never stopping. But today, there was a special kind of excitement in the air, especially within the small, cozy living space above Vander’s tavern, The Last Drop.

Y/N, now a little further along in her pregnancy, was sitting comfortably in one of the worn-out chairs, her hand resting on her baby bump. She had been feeling the baby kicking for a while now, and every time it happened, she couldn’t help but smile.

Vander, who had been busy with some work around the bar downstairs, glanced over at her with a soft grin. "You look like you're getting ready to pop any day now," he teased lightly, his rough voice betraying the gentle affection he had for her. He leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a rag, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m not that big, Vander," she said playfully.

Vander chuckled. "Right, sure." He then turned his attention to the door, hearing the familiar sounds of footsteps and laughter. The kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—had been coming around more often to check on her, always excited about the little one growing inside her.

Vi came barreling in first, the rough-and-tumble girl grinning from ear to ear. “I wanna feel the baby kick! Can I?”

Y/N laughed softly, patting her belly. "You can try."

Vi’s face lit up, and she gently placed her hands on Y/N’s bump, her eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa, I can feel it!" she exclaimed. "It’s so weird but cool!" Her expression softened, and she looked up at Y/N. “You’re gonna be such a good mom.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the sweet sentiment. She hadn’t had the chance to speak much about her plans for motherhood, but hearing Vi’s words made her feel like she was doing something right.

Powder, who had been standing at the door, looking a little shy, approached with her usual curiosity. "Me too! Can I feel?"

Vander, always protective of his "kids," knelt down to Powder’s level, a big hand on her shoulder. "It’s okay, kiddo," he said gently, giving Y/N an encouraging nod.

With a soft giggle, Powder tiptoed over and placed her small hands on Y/N’s baby bump. Her eyes widened when she felt the gentle shift. "It’s moving! I’m gonna be the best big sister ever," she announced, practically bouncing on her heels in excitement.

Mylo and Claggor entered together, following behind their friends. Mylo, always the mischievous one, grinned and raised an eyebrow at the scene. “Looks like you’re already starting a whole army, Y/N,” he teased, crossing his arms.

Claggor, quieter than the others, leaned against the wall, his usual stoic expression softened with a fond smile. “You’ll have a lot of help, that’s for sure,” he said, his voice calm but sincere.

Vander chuckled from his spot across the room, clearly enjoying the scene. He glanced over at Y/N, his expression soft. "You’ll have a whole crew to help you out," he said with a wink. "Just make sure the little one doesn’t end up causing as much trouble as Powder."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, her voice teasing. "You mean you didn’t cause trouble when you were younger?"

Vander chuckled, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Maybe a little, but I’ve learned my lesson. Now I just have to pass on that wisdom."

Vi and Powder giggled at the exchange, while Mylo and Claggor shared an amused look. Y/N leaned back in her chair, basking in the comfort of the moment. The excitement of her growing family surrounded her, and with Vander by her side, she knew everything would be alright.

The kids continued to gather around, asking more questions, offering more excitement, and making Y/N’s heart swell with love. She was going to be a mother, and with Vander, Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and all of them by her side, she knew her little one would be surrounded by so much love and protection.

"Think we’ll get a little troublemaker in the mix?" Vi asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N grinned, her hand gently rubbing her belly. "With you two as role models? I’m sure of it."

Vander’s booming laughter filled the room, and for a moment, all felt right in the world.

And in that moment, surrounded by the kids she’d come to love as her own and Vander’s comforting presence above The Last Drop, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this new chapter in her life would be full of love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

SILCO

Silco sat at his desk in his dimly lit office, his gaze unwavering as he reviewed the latest plans for Zaun. The ever-present hum of machinery in the background almost seemed to blend into the silence.

Then, the door creaked open, and in stepped Y/N, her baby bump now noticeably prominent as she walked toward him. She smiled softly, her face lighting up with a warmth that seemed to make the cold, grim atmosphere of the room a little more bearable.

"You look like you're deep in thought," she said, her voice gentle.

Silco looked up from his papers, his steely eyes softening when they met hers. He had been through many things in his life—power struggles, betrayal, and the dark underworld of Zaun—but nothing quite compared to the feeling that swept over him whenever he saw her. And now, with the baby bump growing, it was as though something more fragile and precious was growing inside their world.

He pushed back from his desk and stood, a rare softness in his usually sharp features. "And what brings you here?" His voice had an edge, but there was a tenderness underneath it that he reserved only for her.

Y/N placed a hand on her belly and walked closer. "I just thought you might like to feel the baby," she said, her tone teasing. "You've been so focused on work lately, you haven't gotten a chance to see how much they’re growing."

A rare flicker of uncertainty passed through Silco’s eyes. He didn’t know much about babies or pregnancy, but there was a look of fondness in his gaze when he saw how protective and glowing Y/N looked.

She gently guided his hand to her stomach, and for a moment, Silco stood still, the warmth of her body and the tiny life growing inside her bringing an unfamiliar feeling to his chest. The baby kicked softly, a small flutter that made her smile wider.

"Feel that?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with excitement.

Silco’s fingers twitched slightly as he pressed his hand more firmly against her belly, feeling the subtle movements beneath his palm. His lips parted in a small, almost imperceptible smile, the rarest of expressions crossing his usually composed face.

"It’s... strange," he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "But it’s yours. Ours."

Y/N’s smile widened, a warm, loving look passing between them. She nodded, her hand over his as she gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yes, ours."

Silco’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he allowed himself to lean down slightly, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. "I never thought I’d be here," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Not like this."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes shining with affection. "Well, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed, a rare tenderness in his voice. He couldn’t help but run his fingers across her belly again, feeling the baby move once more, as if marking the beginning of a future he had never imagined.

For a moment, Silco allowed himself to savour the peace, even if it was fleeting in a world that would never be kind to them. But for now, the only thing that mattered was the life growing between them, the one thing that he could protect with everything he had.

JINX/POWDER

Jinx bounced around excitedly, her usual chaotic energy tempered by a rare, gentle excitement. Y/N was sitting on the couch, her hand resting over her growing belly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched the madness of Zaun unfold through the window.

Jinx skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, her eyes immediately locking onto her friend’s baby bump. Her grin spread wider than usual, but there was a tenderness in it now, a contrast to her usual manic grin.

"Y/N! Y/N! How’s my little niece or nephew doin’ in there?" Jinx asked, bouncing on her toes as she leaned in close, eyes wide with curiosity. She’d known about the pregnancy for a while now, but it never failed to get her excited whenever she saw Y/N with her baby bump.

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing down at her belly with a soft, protective smile. "They're doing well. Growing every day," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she gently rubbed the bump.

Jinx’s face shifted into one of mock seriousness, her hands immediately cupping the sides of Y/N’s bump as if she was inspecting something fragile. "Whoa, you’re getting huge!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and playful teasing. "This little one’s gonna be a big deal, huh? So important!"

She paused for a moment, eyes full of determination, before looking up at Y/N with a gaze that was almost protective. "I’m gonna be the best aunt ever! I’ll protect ‘em from all the bad stuff out there!" Jinx gestured dramatically to the world outside, her usual chaotic flair returning. "No one’s gonna mess with my little one! I’ll teach ‘em all the best stuff—like blowing stuff up!"

Y/N laughed, a warm, fond chuckle that filled the room. "You’re gonna be the best aunt, Jinx. The baby’s gonna love you."

Jinx’s grin grew wider, her chest puffing up proudly. "Of course! No one else could be as awesome as Aunt Jinx! I’ll make sure the little one has all the best toys—super explosive ones! And we’ll make a fort out of all the stuff I’ve blown up! It’ll be perfect!"

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for her unpredictable friend. She knew Jinx had a complicated past, but it was moments like these that showed just how much Jinx cared—and how deeply she was capable of loving in her own wild way.

"You’ll definitely be the best aunt," Y/N agreed, rubbing her belly gently. "But for now, maybe start thinking about ways to entertain the baby when they’re older—something a little less... explosive than your usual brand of fun."

Jinx’s expression turned contemplative as she tilted her head, clearly thinking hard about that suggestion. After a moment, her eyes lit up. "Okay! I’ll tell the baby the best stories. And maybe… just maybe... I’ll make ‘em a secret stash of cookies... and dynamite. Secretly! You know, just in case they need some excitement in their life."

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head fondly. "You’re something else, Jinx. But I think that’s what makes you the best aunt."

Jinx giggled, then without warning, sat down next to Y/N and wrapped her arms around her in a surprisingly gentle hug. "You’ll be the best mom, Y/N. No one’s gonna mess with us. Right? We’re a team."

Y/N returned the hug, a swell of gratitude filling her chest for the unexpected, yet deeply loyal friendship they shared. "We’re a team, Jinx. Always."

And in that moment, surrounded by Jinx’s protectiveness and boundless enthusiasm, Y/N felt a sense of peace, knowing her baby would grow up surrounded by love—no matter how unpredictable the world around them might be.

MEL

Mel had always been the type to care deeply for others, especially those she considered family. Y/N was no different, and seeing her friend in this new light—carrying a child—brought a softness to her heart that she hadn’t expected.

She gently knocked on Y/N’s door, her voice light as she called through, “Y/N, are you awake?”

A muffled response came from inside. “Yeah, just a little tired today.”

Mel smiled, pushing the door open and peeking in to see her friend, who was sitting propped up in bed, a soft blanket tucked around her. Y/N’s baby bump was noticeably round now, a comforting sight after everything she’d been through.

“Need any help getting up?” Mel asked with a slight tilt of her head, her voice soft and warm. She was always so careful around Y/N, ever since the pregnancy had started to show.

Y/N gave her a small, grateful smile. “I can manage, but if you want to help me to the couch, I’d appreciate it.”

Mel immediately moved over, holding out her hands to help steady Y/N as she slowly rose to her feet. “Slow and steady, okay?” she said, guiding her gently to the living room.

Once they were settled, Mel made sure Y/N was comfortable before sitting beside her. She could never shake the worry that Y/N wasn’t eating enough, despite her insistence. “Did you eat today?” she asked, her voice a mix of concern and love.

Y/N sighed but nodded. “I did, just a little light lunch. But I’ll have something more later.”

Mel pursed her lips, her eyes scanning her friend's face, searching for any hint that Y/N might be pushing herself too hard. “You’ve got to take care of yourself, Y/N. The baby needs you to eat, too.” She gently placed a hand on the bump, a soft smile forming as she added, “They’re gonna need their energy to grow big and strong.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, looking down at her belly. “I’m doing my best. But you’re right. Maybe I could eat a little more.”

Mel’s smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I’ll make you something. You rest, and I’ll take care of it.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned back against the cushions. “You’re too good to me, Mel.”

Mel shook her head, her expression warm. “I’m just looking out for you. You’re my family, and that means everything to me.”

As Mel made her way to the kitchen, Y/N watched her, a sense of deep gratitude settling in her chest. Despite everything that had happened, she was surrounded by people who cared for her and the life she was carrying, and that was something worth cherishing.

When Mel returned with a plate of food, she smiled as she set it down in front of Y/N. “I made sure it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

Y/N looked down at the plate and smiled softly, her eyes glistening with appreciation. “You really know how to take care of me.”

Mel sat beside her once again, offering a light hug. “It’s just what I do for family.”

The two of them sat together in the quiet comfort of each other’s company, the bond between them growing even stronger with every passing day.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 4

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 2088

Explaining to them what Talia had said did not make the situation any better. While her information had been helpful it wasn’t nearly enough to calm the storm that raged in them. If anything caused the winds to roar even stronger. They had to know what happened in that room, and the only one that knew was currently 6 years old. Which meant everyone would just have to wait; something this family was never good at especially when it came to personal matters. 

“Talia doesn’t know what really happened to Danyal. Ra’s could have just lied to her, and made Damian swear to never tell her the truth. We all know how much he idolized that man. It would have been easy for Ra’s to convince him it was for the best.” Tim suggests as he types hurriedly at the computer. 

“If Talia thought for a second that he had done something like that it would have come to light by now.” Bruce counters, “Ra’s would still have needed help getting Danyal out of Nanda Parbat, and one of them would have most definitely let it slip to Talia if he had done that.” 

“Which is why Ra’s would have everyone involved killed before they could have done so.” 

“Tim-”

“Crazier things have happened Bruce; multiple people in this family have come back. Why not Danyal?” Tim looks away from the screen for but a second as he interrupts Bruce before focusing back on the screen. A clear sign that he doesn’t want to continue talking about this. 

Bruce leaves Tim to continue his investigation; a part of him hoping that Tim is right. He could never admit that though. It would just be that much more crushing if proven wrong. So he turns attention to Dick, who is still near the med bay ready to rush in if need be.  

“Chum, why don’t you take a rest? Damian is perfectly fine right now, and you look like you need a break.” 

He knew that the reveal of Danyal’s death would hit Dick partially hard as someone who was very protective of his younger siblings. It wouldn’t matter to him that Danyal died before he even knew of his existence. Bruce expected Dick to be consumed with sadness right now. He wasn’t though he was overcome with fury. 

“A rest Bruce? We all just found out that Damian’s twin is dead; that Ra’s did something to make sure Damian wouldn’t tell anyone. And you want me to take a rest?” Dick eyes burned into him as he spoke. “I’ll take a rest once I know what that psychotic old man did.” 

Bruce knows Dick well enough to read between the lines of what his son is saying. He’s angry at Ra’s, yes, but Dick’s angry at himself too. He’s probably wondering why Damian never felt comfortable enough to mention such a big part of himself to them. 

“And we’ll make sure Damian knows that whatever Ra’s said or did was wrong, but you look exhausted right now. At least let me bring a chair over here for you to sit in.” Bruce calmly states to his eldest son. 

It looks like his words haven’t calmed Dick in the slightest, but before he can speak up again a chair is being pulled up next to Dick by Jason. “Jesus Christ Dick, just sit down already. And that’s me agreeing with B on something so you should know that it's not just the old man saying some b.s.” 

It doesn’t take much for Jason to force Dick to take a seat; one hard shoulder shove and he was collapsing into the chair. After which Jason pulls his own chair up next to him. “I’m gonna need you to put an end to this little pity party in the corner, Dickiebird.” 

“I’m allowed to be upset, Jason. We just found out that our brother is dead, and I should have been able to do something. 

“You think I don’t get that? The only difference between us right now though is that I was there; I could have done something to save the kid if I had known.” 

“Jaylad-” 

“No Bruce, if Dick here wants to blame himself for not doing something then he can blame me too.” Jason gives Dick an annoyed look then turns his head towards Bruce, “You’re free to get out of here old man. Can’t believe I’m the one that’s gotta talk some sense into Dick here.” 

He really doesn’t want to leave this conversation where it’s currently at, but when Dick gives him a nod he knows that he should withdraw. Bruce does make a mental note to ask about how the discussion went later; for now though he’ll do as they want.

So for now he moves on to check on his final son, Duke, before doing so though Bruce stops by his office once more for a moment to just sit and think. Once there it doesn’t take long before he is reaching into the bottom drawer where he keeps a bottle of whiskey hidden away. When he doesn’t feel it though Bruce knows that Alfred must have taken it. 

Of course Alfred knew he had it; that man knows everything that goes on here. 

It’s for the best that it’s gone anyhow he doesn’t need to be repeating past habits from when he lost Jason. That’s the last thing this family needs right now; not when there are still so many questions that need answers. 

In the end it’s Duke who seeks him out first. A mere 10 minutes goes by where Bruce is sitting in silence before a few light knocks echo against the walls around him. After announcing that the person knocking entrance Duke almost hesitantly approaches him. His habit of always tapping his fingers on whatever he was holding a dead give away for how nervous his son must be feeling right now. 

“Hey B,” Duke started, “everyone seems to be going through it right now huh?”

“It would appear so. What about you chum? How are you doing with all this?”

“I’m … not fine, but I know that that’s ok; I don’t think anyone wouldn’t be somewhat affected by the recent news. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else though if that’s ok.” 

Bruce takes a quick steady breath preparing himself for whatever this conversation may bring. “Of course, what did you want to talk about?”

“About what’s going to happen afterwards; when we find out the truth from Damian. Because- If Danyal is … dead then I think asking Damian about who Danyal was as a person, and setting up a memorial of sorts might help everyone with their grief.” 

“That,” his throat feels tight, “that sounds like a wonderful idea, Duke. I’m sure Damian- everyone would appreciate having a setup for Danyal in the manor.” 

Duke seems satisfied with his answer, and with a small smile makes his way out of the office. Before he leaves though he says one last thing, “I’d also make time to call Cass and Steph to give them an update on this before they get home.” 

After that the silence once more takes control of the room while Bruce thinks about the what if’s and the could have been. 

He’s not sure what the future holds for them now, but Bruce does know that whatever comes they’ll deal with it; together. That means he can’t keep sitting here in sorrow; he can’t fall apart again. 

“It’s time to get to work,” is his last thought as he leaves to make his way back to the cave. 

-

The rest of the day seems to go by in a blur, and not in a good way. Damian spits fire anytime anyone steps into his room. He has only willingly allowed Alfred inside to deliver food to him, and even that was met with cautious anger. 

At the very least Damian isn’t trying to escape; some piece of evidence they showed him must have convinced him that what they were saying was the truth. That conclusion is a double edge sword though as now Damian for sure knows that Danyal is gone. Why else would his brother not be here?

Red Hood and Red Robin are the only ones that go on patrol when the time comes. Dick refuses to leave his station at the med bay door knowing that Damian could be transferring back to himself any time now, and Bruce doesn’t want to leave him by himself if that does happen tonight. The two don’t talk much while alone in the cave, but Dick does allow Bruce to momentarily take his place at the door while he takes a moment to refresh himself. 

While it doesn’t actually happen that night the family is definitely in for a surprise when they check in on Damian the next morning, and find the now normal 14 year old boy asleep on the bed. 

Everyone had to hold Dick back so that he wouldn’t wake him up, and in the end it was Alfred who finally managed to convince him to let Damian rest without interruptions. Unfortunately for the sleeping child though this only gives the rest of the family more time to think about what they’re going to ask, and heaven knows he already has a lot to answer for.

-

Damian feels himself slowly waking; his body feels stiff and slow when he attempts to sit up, but otherwise fine. He knows he must be in the med bay since the last thing he remembers was being on patrol with Nightwing and encountering a blinding light. 

When enough of his strength finally returns to him he cracks his eyes open to see his father and brothers all looking at him with varying degrees of concern. Whatever happened must have been a lot bigger than he had originally thought if they are all here with him.  

Slowly he rubs a hand across his face and groans out to everyone in the room, “What happened?” 

No one says anything for a few beats. In fact they all seem to avoid meeting his eyes entirely. Eventually though his father clears his throat before speaking in a voice far too soft and gentle, “Well chum, you got hit with a spell while on patrol. It- It reverted you back to your 6 year old self.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

That was probably the worst thing he could have been told right now as Damian thinks back to what he was like at that age; to who had been by his side since birth. There is absolutely no way that his long gone other half wasn’t mentioned, or brought up in however long he was in his younger state. 

“I’m frankly surprised to see you all still standing. I was very dedicated to the league at that age.” He’s not going to admit to anything just in case he is wrong though. Danyal is not someone who Damian is ready to speak about. His twin, his brother, and his biggest regret; he’ll never forgive himself for being so brainwashed by Ra’s that he allowed Danyal’s death that day. That he was prepared to do it himself because the older man said it was for the best. 

“You did manage to break Jason's nose!” Duke lightly chuckles as the mentioned man throws a glare, but otherwise remains silent. Followed by more deafening silence from everyone else. 

Dick is the one that finally brings up the elephant in the room, “Dami … who’s Danyal?”

Why did he have to be right about them knowing? Ready or not it seems the truth about Danyal was coming to light it seems. “Danyal was my twin; the other half- the better half of me. I understand that now.”

His eldest brother gently grabs his hand, and holds it in a firm embrace of comfort. He’ll allow it for now. “And what happened to him?” 

Damian can’t keep his past hidden anymore, and Danyal deserves to have his story told. “When we were 10 Gran- Ra’s took Danyal and I away from our studies early one afternoon. He said that he had a couple lessons of his own that he wanted to teach us personally.” 

For one it was a life lesson, and for the other a death sentence. 

… 4 years ago …

“Damian, Danyal, come. You two are about to learn what it truly means to be an Al Ghul.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drinking, drunk driving, family passing

A/N: don’t kill me….

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P5: Budge

wc: 1800+

It’s quiet. The night air is refreshing, the blinking stars and street lights creating a dim glow on the pavement. I don’t mind the silence, but my curiosity is building with each step. 

“So…” I trail off, holding Trevor’s leash a little bit tighter as I swallow thickly. “Are you gonna tell me why you dragged me out here?” I press. 

Chris shrugs, his eyes staring straight forward, avoiding my gaze at all costs. “I didn’t drag you out here—”

“You showed up at my fucking window!” I exclaim, my eyes going wide as I realize how loud my voice is compared to the deathly still environment. 

“Nice,” he remarks, sarcasm dripping from his tone as I feel my body cringe with embarrassment. 

My lips tighten together in a thin line as I let my feet carry me down the pavement. “Whatever,” I mutter, my face scrunching as I stare around us, trying to reassure myself no one is around. 

Time passes by slowly yet peacefully. The sidewalk lines pass beneath our shoes, the slight trotting of Trevor’s paws making me more aware of each passing second. I have no idea where we’re going—maybe Chris doesn’t either. But there’s something about the quiet, the rhythmic steps, the way Trevor nudged against my leg every now and then, that it makes it all feel… bearable. 

“She used to love walks like this,” he mutters under his breath. I don’t need to ask who to know. He’s talking about her. 

“Your mom?” I ask softly, looking over to find him letting his shoulder slump a little bit more. 

“I…” he trails off, uncertainty pushing his words back into his mouth. Maybe he just needs a little push. 

“Tell me about it,” I request. 

Chris stays silent for a moment before taking a deep sigh, shoving his hands further into the pocket of his hoodie while shrugging. “I mean, yeah. She used to have us all go for a walk together. After dinner, before bed. Just me, Matt, and… our brother.” 

Brother. He had yet to say a name, yet to give any detail besides that one, singular word. 

My forehead crinkles more as the pattern of his steps stop echoing. I look over my shoulder, seeing his body seem awkwardly stiff, his shoulders rigid as if he’s bracing for something painful. 

Part of me wants to ask. But I don’t. 

“I don’t talk about him,” Chris says, almost like a warning. “So don’t…don’t–”

“I won’t,” I interrupt, reassuring him as I watch his eyes float towards my face with an unreadable look. It’s softer—not as cold. It makes me feel a little more relaxed, like the cool breeze was brushing through my veins with a refreshing calmness. 

My mind lingers back to his words from earlier, his cruel eyes when the insults spewed from his mouth like acid. He didn’t know me, he had no right to judge—but part of me knew deep down he wasn’t mad at me. He was hurt. And I understood that more than I wanted to. 

“The night we met,” I say, swallowing thickly as our steps resume. 

Chris huffs, “What about it?” 

“I wasn’t drinking.” 

His steps halt again. This time, he turns to face me fully, his brows furrowing as his eyes squint. “What?” he asks.

I nod, letting my head sway. “That night, when I was walking home—you assumed I was drunk, that I was just some idiot who likes partying and getting wasted.”  I bite on my inner cheek, my shoe moving on the pavement as I shift awkwardly. “I wasn’t drinking. I… I don’t even really like parties.” 

Chris stares at me, his face relaxing as he looks around our surroundings before his eyes land back on me. “Then why were you there?” he questions. 

A weak laugh shakes through my lips. The confession of something I hate even admitting to myself falling on the tip of my tongue as my head moves from side to side. “Because,” I start, pulling on my hoodie sleeves as my eyes fall to the pavement. “I’m lonely, Chris. I don’t have a lot of friends, and the ones I do have, well… they like that kind of thing. I guess—I guess I just wanted—ugh, I don’t even know,” I sigh. 

I do know. By the slow nod of Chris’s head, I can tell he knows the wordless explanation. I just wanted to feel like I belonged for once—it was the closest thing I could get to being understood.

He stays silent, his face shifting to relax as his posture eases. It’s barely any sort of acknowledgment, but it’s enough to reassure my doubting thoughts. 

“I wasn’t being reckless—that’s why I was walking home. Shawn was supposed to be the designated driver, but he… he—well, he didn’t do that. He had a couple drinks and even though he insisted he was fine, I—” 

Chris fills the silence as my words fall flat, “You walked home alone at two in the morning instead of… oh.”

His lips part slightly, his face falling as his eyes soften even more. 

“You judged me without knowing anything,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I get it. You have your reasons—but I’m not the person you think I am.” 

Chris’s jaw tightens. For a short moment, I find myself anticipating some sort of argument. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a heavy breath, nodding once, “Okay.” 

I blink harshly, my tired eyes feeling heavy. “Okay?” I question, letting my eyes drift to recognize the familiar surrounding, one street away from my house. 

“Okay,” he repeats, shoving his hand into his pockets as our steps echo with Trevor’s trotting paws. 

I exhale, my shoulders relaxing slightly. It’s not much, but at least it was something. 

As we arrive back at my house, our steps get quieter. I cautiously stalk up to my window, placing my hands on the frame and trying to pull up.

It won’t budge. 

My eyes go wide. It won’t open, it slipped shut—fully. 

“Something wrong?” he taunts. 

I turn around, shooting him a glare. “It slipped shut. I… I guess I didn’t leave it open enough,” I state, my jaw clenching as my tired body slumps with frustration. This can’t be happening. 

Chris snorts, “Well, that’s unfortunate.” 

I groan, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. “My mom is a light sleeper. If I go through the front door, I’m dead,” I explain, mostly mumbling to myself. 

The slight tug on my sweatshirt makes my body stand up straight, my feet stumbling as Chris starts to tug me back towards the sidewalk. 

“What the–”

“You’re not sleeping outside. Just crash at my place. Think of it as a…” 

“An apology?” I offer, trying to finish his sentence. 

Chris shakes his head, “Whatever you wanna call it, I guess.” 

My lips tug upward with a small grin. I look down to see Trevor, still happily walking as we make our way to his house—only a short distance from mine.

Chris puts a finger to his lips, warning me to stay quiet as he carefully unlocks the front door to his house, holding the door for me before walking in behind me, carefully pushing the door closed. He takes off Trevour’s leash, lightly placing it on top of his shoes after sliding them off. 

Sliding off my own shoes, I wince as they squeak. I look up to find Chris glaring at me, offering a hand to help me balance myself. The lump in my throat falls down to my chest. I let my hand lay in his, the warmth of his palm radiating onto my skin making my exhausted mind loop in circles of an unknown emotion. 

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud snore. I look over to the couch, seeing an unfamiliar man sleeping on the couch. He looks like an older version of Chris. It must be his dad. Why was he sleeping out here? 

A tug on my clothes makes me pull my attention back to Chris. He nudges his head, signaling me to follow him as he starts walking down the hall. His hand lands on a door knob, slowly turning and pushing it. 

I walk in, my eyes shamelessly analyzing his room as I listen to him quietly shut the door behind us. His room is surprisingly neat, except for the pile of clothes on the chair and the random papers skewed along his desk. 

“You take the bed,” he says, pulling his hoodie off and over his head, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

Thoughtful. Maybe he’s not that bad. 

I look over, seeing a full size mattress with a puffy duvet laying on top, a singular pillow resting sloppily in the top of the bed. Of course, the typical man—only having one fucking pillow. 

“You seriously think I’m taking your bed?” I question. Maybe sleeping outside would be better. At least it wouldn’t be as… confusing.

Chris shoots me a look while bending down and unhooking Trevor’s collar, “Just get in.” 

Reluctantly, I let my exhausted body obey, climbing in and pulling the blanket over me. It smells good, just like him—citrusy and warm. 

I watch as Chris lays on the floor, placing his arm under his head as he stares up to the ceiling. That can’t be comfortable. 

“Chris, just come here,” I announce. 

He sighs before getting up, settling onto the other side of the bed. God knows what time it is, there’s no energy left to argue. 

I shove the pillow over to him. “Thanks,” he mumbles, finally relaxing on his back. 

For a while, we just lay there in the dark, Trevour’s breath soft and steady as he rests by our feet. My arm is numb, my body shifting restlessly as I try to get comfortable. 

“Here,” he says, holding his arm out flat on the bed. 

I’m so tired. I let my body scoot over to his, my chest just barely pressing against his side as my head nuzzles onto his arm.  

“Thanks for coming to my window,” I whisper, my words slurring with exhaustion. 

A moment of silence follows. My eyes are getting heavier and heavier by the moment, my body sinking into the mattress, relaxing further towards him. 

The slight motion of his arm tugging me in closer makes my body fully leaning on his. “Yeah, yeah… whatever.”

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ THREE MINUTES ! - rindou haitani / 10.08 / kinktober

CW: public "sex", fingering, teasing, they're best friends, female anatomy, she/her used, one-sided pleasure, that's all lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: welcome to the fifth post of my kinktober series! i hope you enjoy. leave a like or reblog to show support. (updates this week might be off or posted on a diff day since i'll be traveling somewhere with family. if not posted on the designated day, it will be posted eventually when i get back home.)

it took a lot of pleading, a lot of pouting, and quite a bit of persuasion for y/n to finally get rindou to agree to see a horror movie with her. he’d been reluctant, as always, keeping his usual stoic expression as she begged, a faint sigh escaping him after she tugged at his sleeve one too many times.

“alright, fine,” he finally said, rolling his eyes with a small, barely-there smile. “but you’re paying for the popcorn.”

y/n’s face lit up instantly, and she practically bounced in excitement. “deal! you won’t regret it, i promise!”

now, sitting side by side in the dim theater, rindou was starting to question his decision. as soon as the movie began, he leaned back in his seat, trying to relax as the ominous music set the tone. y/n was fully immersed, her eyes wide as she clutched his arm during each jump scare, gasping and gripping his hand tighter with every loud noise and flickering shadow on the screen.

rindou, on the other hand, sat unbothered, his expression unfazed by the attempts to frighten him. he shot her a sidelong glance, noting the way she reacted to the tension, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. she was so easily scared, and he found it endearing, though he’d never say so.

about halfway through, he noticed something different. y/n’s grip had loosened, and her eyes, while still on the screen, had a faraway look in them. she seemed to be shifting in her seat, her legs rubbing together subtly, her face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the horror unfolding onscreen.

rindou quirked an eyebrow, leaning over to whisper, “something more interesting than the movie going on?”

y/n’s head snapped toward him, caught off guard, and she felt a deep wave of embarrassment. “what? no, i was just... i’m watching, i swear.”

he gave her a knowing look, one that made her squirm under his gaze. “right. because from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re a little too distracted to be paying attention to what’s going on,” he murmured, his voice low, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. “did you really just waste our money on tickets just to get yourself all worked up over nothing?”

she huffed, crossing her arms in defense. “it’s not my fault! the movie got kind of... you know, intense, and you’re here, and...” her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

rindou chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor breaking just enough for her to catch it. “oh, i see. so, you dragged me out here, begged me to watch this horror movie, and now you’re not even paying attention. that’s what i’m hearing.”

y/n pouted, tugging on his arm. “rindou, come on. i can’t help it...”

he leaned closer, his face only inches from hers, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “can’t help it, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing. “guess i’ll have to find a way to keep you entertained, since the movie isn’t cutting it.”

her eyes widened as he settled back in his seat, his hand casually resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. she shot him a look, torn between shock and excitement, but he just kept that same indifferent expression, his gaze focused forward as if nothing unusual was happening.

“rindou,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the movie’s background noise. “people are around...”

he raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at her, his thumb continuing its slow, deliberate movement. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep it together,” he said with a smirk. “don’t blame me for distracting you when you’re the one getting ideas.”

y/n’s heart raced, the weight of their friendship hanging heavy in the silence between them. she knew they were toeing a line, crossing into something unspoken and uncertain, yet she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, the thrill of it mixing with a quiet fear that they couldn’t just come back from this.

she looked up at him, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “you know we probably shouldn’t...”

“probably,” he murmured, his voice steady, but his hand never moved. he glanced down at her, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for her to see something else behind it—a question, a hesitation that matched her own. “but we’re already here, aren’t we?”

they held each other’s gaze, neither of them willing to break the moment, knowing they were treading dangerous ground. but in the dim glow of the theater, with his hand on her thigh and her fingers inching toward his, it felt like a risk they were both willing to take, consequences be damned.

"if you don’t want this, tell me now."

y/n remained quiet and rindou glanced at her, seeing that her gaze was already on him. she reached for his hand, her impatience making her guide him up her thigh a bit more. rindou's eyes widened immediately when we wasn't met with any sort of fabric at all, but the immediate warmth of her sex.

"what the hell, n/n?" he questioned, not moving his hand, but the flustered expression on his face said enough. a shiver coursed through her body as he pressed his digits against her. "please don't question it." she sighed trying to keep her voice low.

"was this your plan this whole time?" he asked and she let out an embarassed groan and rindou felt some pity at that. they'd been bestfriend's since forever and despite his attitude, rindou would drop anything in a second if y/n ever asked. she always came first in every situation, and she knew that. "so you didn't wanna watch this movie afterall?"

she looked at him, nodding her head. "i did, but..." she trailed off. "but you're too focused on this, huh?" just then, his fingers used her slick to slip his middle digit into her sex. she bit down on her inner cheek and her legs tightened around his hand. "what got you all worked up?"

y/n remained silent, avoiding the question. this piqued rindou's interest, making him slide his digits in deeper. y/n let out a shaky breath, trying to not bring attention to themselves, but the more rindou pleasured her, the more she squirmed in her seat. "are you dodging the question, y/n? if you are, I'll stop."

"no, no. don't stop." she pled, looking at rindou with glazed eyes. "then tell me. i have a feeling i know what it is." he shifted himself in his seat. trying to ignore his current situation as well. he thanked the dark lightning in the theater that caused her to not see his growing erection. "i was just wondering how you would feel inside me." she managed to get out.

"it's not very nice to have those kinds of thoughts about your bestfriend, y/n."

"can't help-" she was cut off when his in and out motions quickened. y/n lifted her lips to lean back a bit to slouch in the seat. this newfound position allowed rindou to reach deeper, caressing that sensetive spot that would drive her insane. "you're not being as discreet as you probably should, n/n." a smile appeard on his lips.

"so hurry up." she managed to glare at him and rindou rolled his eyes, focusing back on the movie in front of them. his fingers held no mercy on y/n despite the occasional whimpers that she would try to hide in her palm, the fidgeting of her legs closing around him, and the way her hand gripped his wrist with all the strength in her body. "quicker you come, the quicker you can be quiet." he muttered, tone sounding unbothered.

"i couldn’t care less if anyone figured out what we were doing, but that's all you're worried about, huh, y/n?" he taunted. "too focused on them to come?"

he reached over to y/n, using his freehand to turn her head to him. "you have three minutes. if you can't come before then, I'm stopping."

"what the fuck, rindou?" she shot him a harsh glare and a smile barely made it way to his lips but it was filled with anything but purity. he was the biggest tease ever and y/n knew this but hated that fact that she put it past him especially in situations like these. "come on, n/n. your time is wasting."

he sped his fingers up and y/n held his wrist steady before she grinded down onto his digits. he caressed that pleasure-filled spot once again and she shut her eyes, trying to turn off the rest of her senses.

she heard rindou speaking, but it all sounded muffled to her. if she listened to him, it'll feel all too real and that would throw her in for a loop all over again. his digits felt just right and she thought that if she focused on them enough, she could reach her high in no time.

that was proven to be true when she noticed that he sped up his motions even more, helping her as she continued to ride them, not caring about the other eyes around her. "rindou." she muttered through a whisper. she heard him hum, but she couldn't trust herself to speak at the moment.

instead, she tightly held onto his wrist as she balanced on that familiar edge of pure bliss. "come, n/n." that was all ot took for her to tip over. she tightened her already shut eyes, hoping that she wasn't being too loud. her sounds of pleasure came out as a moan, but it was muffled by a hand that wasn't her own. she felt the cool touch of metal agaisnt her lip and she realized it was from a ring that rindou always wore on his right hand.

"two minutes?" he smiled, watching as she carefully opened her eyes, her chest heaving with a fast pace. "i'm never doing this with you again." she muttered, looking around for a gaze that met her own.

"of course not. that would be crossing the line, right?"

y/n didn’t miss the pure sarcasm in his tone and she hated how she only clenched around his fingers once more so no matter what she would say next, he knew what she felt deep down.

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @eclecticfirewitxh @nemoo888 @ririkavitanitraxova02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @yourefavsakura @karebear5118 @jays-adventure3 @flowerpjimin @thiisisntlovely @kawaiiisis @viviennevianna @slvttics @elmtree12 @ivydoesit23 @jellibean2018 @peehall @pestlaege @junabuggy @hyesworld @hime-honne @kuroaka @kimmi-iii @elssero @lxst-in-mxrdxrlxnd @littlemissfix-itfic @mythraendir @mapletress @todobrosky @amajikisbabygirl @sanriovin @daydreamteardrop @tsukishimasslut @tenwt @meowmeowmau @icyhottodo178 @lightaflaem @insaneclown0408 @raggedypansexual @riririntaro @gojosclassifiedslut @staygoldsquatchling02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @luvvmae @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @satoruyes

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TEN

10 : HOLIDAY

CHPT. SUM. : The winter holidays start with a stiff Yule soiree but you're determined to give the boys a far more memorable holiday than that.

LENGTH : 12k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; holiday/festive vibes ; meeting the potter family ; orion being a stickler for 'traditions' ; Kreacher is part of the family ; holiday surprises for the boys! ; reader is the best mother for sirius and regulus!

← PREV. 9 : REPUTATION

23rd December 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place 

The crackling fire in your home office does little to warm the icy tension filling the space between you and Orion, whose face is a chilling mask of stoic disapproval. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest as he glares at you with a thinly veiled mix of hatred and scepticism before moving his stare to the offending letter you clutch in one hand, the one you intend to send to the Lestranges. 

Orion had wondered about your evening activities and wandered into your study late in the evening. At your desk, he found you urgently writing as if you were against a ticking deadline. He could tell that you knew he was in your space but felt it safe to step further in when you didn’t verbally protest his presence. What were you writing and who you were sending so many letters to so late in the evening? As he stepped up to your desk, he glimpsed the familiar names and addresses on the back of the envelopes and gave an approving hum.

“You don’t need to worry about accepting their invitations; I have already sent them letters welcoming their requests for our family’s attendance at Yule celebrations this holiday.” Orion looked on in wonder when you continued writing, steadily piling up the letters in batches for your owl to deliver. His steel-grey eyes narrowed when you silently tied the batch of letters together and magicked the window open for your owl to swiftly deliver its hefty package. With a click of his tongue, a clear expression of distrust from your dismissal, Orion slams his hand on the table to leer at you, “I said there’s no need. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you, Orion.” your unfazed demeanour irks him more than he’d care to admit. 

“Then why are you continuing to write?” He looks down to read the contents of the letter you were currently writing to the Lestranges, focusing intently on trying to read your cursive upside down. 

‘…sadly we would need to decline your invitation to dinner on the…’

“—WHAT ABSURDITY IS THIS?!” Orion attempts to snag the letter from your grasp but you’re faster and hurry to seal away the letter of rejection in an envelope, swiftly addressing it on the back. He shouts your name, calling for your attention, for an answer, and you silently huff at his volume; he’ll end up disturbing the boys at this rate. With this man-child in the house, how can you possibly anticipate any peace to occur? 

Now you are having a stand-off in the middle of your home office, husband and wife scowling at each other with equal distaste, both stubborn about their stance. “This isn’t absurd, Orion! Why would our choice—”

“It’s your selfish choice!”

“Yes, you’re right; it is a selfish choice, but it’s with good intentions! We have a right to reject their invitations in favour of celebrating with our own family.” Orion visibly bristles at your reasoning, like a raptorial cat spotting its prey and immediately preparing to pounce. 

“ABSURD AND SELFISH! WHAT REASON DO WE HAVE TO REJECT THEIR INVITATIONS?!”

The parchment feels heavy in your hands, carrying the weight of your defiance, but you stand strong by it. “…Orion,” you begin after taking a slow breath, voice steady but pleading — you need to be the calm one or else this argument will spiral dangerously. And you don’t want either of the boys to hear upstairs; evenings like this should be spent winding down for bed. “I want this Yule to be just us. No dinners, no soirees, no endless gatherings. Just our family. For the boys.” Orion doesn’t show any sign of understanding, but you press forward. You find that every interaction has become a latent test, putting your husband on trial to assess his fitfulness as a father. However, every exchange has been marked by increasingly lamentable results, such that you feel stupid for believing he may have some redeeming qualities as a father. “Regulus will be leaving to attend Hogwarts next year, and then it’ll just be… us. Let us have this one Yule to focus on each other and be together as a family, please. It’s a precious time we must commemorate appropriately.”

Orion’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes narrowing. “It is our duty to maintain appearances. We cannot simply abandon tradition because you’ve decided to indulge in some sentimental whim!” 

Your temper isn’t usually quick to rise, but you feel it spike exponentially within you from his bitter words. This was worth taking offence over. How dare he demean the precious time you intend to spend with your loved ones — namely only Sirius and Regulus. He has no pride as a father or a husband. With another slow breath, you try to tame your racing heart.

“The only tradition we must abide by is attendance at the Yule soiree with the slew of other wizarding families,” you counter, your voice rising slightly despite your attempt to hold down your tongue. “Every other dinner, every other event—they’re not necessities, Orion. They’re only frivolous distractions. And I won’t have my boys grow up thinking that their worth is measured by how many pureblood gatherings they attend.”

“Sirius is already a poor example of an heir. The first in centuries to be sorted into Gryffindor—”

“Orion, please!”

“—he must spend time with the right sort!”

“He is with the right sort! He has friends who care about him in Gryffindor.”

“That’s not worth anything!” 

“Oh! Get over yourself, Orion!” your voice gets louder and louder, swept up by the intense emotions making the air in the room vibrate tensely. “Those dinners and gatherings aren’t a necessity! Sirius will grow up to be a fine man without them! Trust in yourself as his father!” you try to play with his compassion as a parent but it’s no use.

“It is a necessity because I say it is!” Orion snaps, his voice booming through the room. “No further arguments, wife. This is final.”

You bristle at his curt command, your temper flaring once more, mirroring Orion’s climbing wrath. “That’s not how the world works, Orion. How childish! The boys and I will be spending Yule together. If you’re so desperate to attend every last gathering, you may do so by your lonesome!” You step to the open window and call for another owl to take and deliver the Lestrange’s letter.

Orion’s face darkens, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He doesn’t dare lash out as he can sense that his magic is already making the walls and furniture shake around the room — he also gathers that you would have added to the telekinetic quaking as well. This house was a precious property, a standing legacy of their ancient and most noble house. No argument was worth its potential collapse. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I am not the ridiculous one!” You shoot back, your voice as sharp and piercing as your eyes. Once again, Orion cannot recognise you, the occurrence of which has been more often as of recently that he’s lost count long before. Where had his wife disappeared to? This wasn’t the woman he married… “It is you who is being ridiculous! Why can’t you see that this is important? For them, for us as a family?”

Orion takes a step closer, his expression softening slightly but not from concern. Looking into his eyes, you see the judgement and suspicion and desperately move to bite down your tongue. The Black family patriarch’s tone is firm, strong and demanding. “Why have you changed so drastically, wife? This is unlike you…” Never had the two of you been so disparate in mind and intentions, it was unusual to have such a quarrel; usually, Orion can trust in his wife and lady to manage the house elf and their sons while he focuses on their reputation and his job. However, now, it was difficult to trust you with managing anything in the Black family home without his supervision; your ambitions have changed far too drastically, and even the house elf has changed— the filthy thing. There wasn’t a clear answer to this dilemma either, not one that he could attempt to foresee and the mental instability that thought brings was beyond frustrating.  

You swallow hard and carefully consider the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. It was suffocating being put on the spot like this; your mind is racing, but you’re desperate not to appear flustered beyond convention. “…I simply want to be a good mother to my children, both of which will soon leave the nest together. I want to treasure as much of the little time we have left with each other.” your confession comes out quietly, your voice trembling with sincere emotions from the thought. As much as you wanted to be a mother in your past life, experiences like this are ineluctable to all parents; you just didn’t believe it could affect you to such a profound degree. You suppose it’s one of those things in life that you can’t expect to be familiar with until you’ve undergone it firsthand.  

“You are a good mother,” Orion replies, his tone almost dismissive as if the matter can be settled with his singular comment of reassurance.

The words sting more than you care to admit, however. You know what his perception is of how a home should be run, and you know of his closed perspective on what it means to be a ‘good mother’—obedient, dutiful, upholding the family name at all costs, even if it’s at the detriment of a long-term relationship with your children. The kind of mother who raises sons to be carbon copies of their father, even if that father has more shameful qualities than good.  But that is not the kind of mother you want to be, not for your darling boys, not ever. Overcoming that sadness and the thoughts of what Sirius and Regulus had to endure before you took over Walburga, you quickly fill up with rage and disgust. It’s repulsive how misinformed and disparaging his views are towards parenting —he should be ashamed of himself.  

“I have not been a good mother,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. This might be a good time to provide a fair reason to explain the sudden and drastic changes in your behaviour and views. Orion will have no choice but to accept something so profoundly simple that it becomes a hard pill to swallow. “And I can admit that. But I’m doing my best to change, for my boys. Please, Orion. I know you can be a good father to the children too. It’s what they deserve.”

Orion lets out a humourless and brief laugh — a mockery of your new ideations. His anger flares once again, his patience worn thin after you’ve blatantly offended his attitude and parenting. “No. What they deserve is a strict education and upbringing. It’s all done to honour our family’s name. We are the most ancient and noble house, house Black! Where is your pride?” he leers down at you, unconvinced and judgemental.

“Where is your shame?” you counter far too quickly to stop yourself. 

“…you will have to go alone with them, then,” he says coldly, turning away from you. “I will uphold our name without your sorry, audacious existence to humiliate me.”

Your spine straightens as your resolve hardens; you don’t care much for his offending words rather, you are relieved. At least he didn’t demand the boys accompany him anyway, instead of you. “Fine then,” you say firmly, clearly unaffected by his words, which makes him want to lash out in anger once again. However, you were already turning on your heel and striding out of the room before he could attempt another heated exchange, your sharp footfalls echoing against the floor. As you reach the hallway, closing the door behind you, you pause and glance up at the bannister above, managing to catch two blurred figures ducking out of sight. 

“Come out, you two,” you call softly, not wanting to appear confrontational or irate and smile to help colour your words warmly. “I know you’ve been listening.”

After a moment of silence, there’s a shuffling of feet as Sirius and Regulus slowly come into view, peering down at you from their perch in the upper hallway. They share the same sheepish expression. You sigh and move to meet them upstairs, gesturing that they go ahead of you, “Into Sirius’ room, we need to talk.”

The boys follow your words obediently, their heads bowed as they hurry through the door with Sirius’ name hanging at the front. Once inside your eldest’s room, you close the door gently and turn to face them where they’ve settled atop Sirius’ bed. They can see the frustration and fatigue on your face and they wonder if it would have been better if they didn’t know the reason behind it. Nevertheless, they come to one conclusion and it's that they don’t like seeing you in such a state. Their kind, gentle and loving mother doesn’t deserve to be distressed — and it makes them feel all the more guilty when they realise that you were having to deal with them as soon as you finished arguing exhaustively with their father. They wouldn’t blame you if you, instead, had ignored them altogether in favour of resolving your frustrations. Nevertheless, it meant the world to them that they were such a high priority for you that you didn’t give it a second thought before joining them upstairs to talk.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, boys,” your voice is filled with regret, an achy feeling that they mirror in their own silvery-grey eyes. “It’s not a good example to set, arguing like that with your father. I’m sorry.” The two share a somewhat astonished look — they fully believed you would reprimand them after being caught listening to your quarrel. “Eavesdropping is not proper behaviour, either.” There it is…

“Sorry mother…” They guiltily apologise in unison, looking down from the shame weighing down their stomachs as you slowly approach.

“It’s alright, just don’t do it again, okay?” you raise both your pinkies so that they can seal the promise by curling their pinkies around yours — you were so happy to have shared this little ‘muggle’ tradition with them; it was a good enforcer of good manners and promises. Satisfied with the pledge, you take a seat at the foot of Sirius’ bed, your legs hanging off the edge as you partially turn towards them. 

Regulus looks up at you, his wide grey eyes filled with concern. He remembers hearing the way you reasoned with his father on why you were rejecting invitations and it left him holding onto a peculiar mixture of guilt and joy that you were willing to turn away other families just to have a memorable Yule holiday with him and Sirius before they leave for Hogwarts together. 

“But there’s no need to be sorry, Mother… it’s not your fault.”

Sirius, the bolder one of the two and acting on the emotions he felt safe enough to express, crosses his arms and scowls. His opinion of the situation has been made up already. “Yeah, Dad’s being an idiot.”

You raise a questioning brow but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips — you didn’t know your son could look so cute being a grump. But, you attest that to his bias on taking your side over his father’s, loyally and stubbornly taking your side on things definitively. “Your father is not an idiot, Sirius,” you reach out to gently pet down his curls, slightly pushing the stray strands away from his forehead. Almost instantly, Sirius uncrosses his arms and leans into your touch, his grumpy expression melting away, “Orion is just… a stubborn old fool.” The last part slips out in a whisper, and Sirius and Regulus exchange a glance before breaking into quiet snickers. Clearly, they agree with your sentiment, but you have to hold yourself back from joining their giggling.

“You don’t need to defend him, Mother,” Sirius says, his voice tinged with frustration as he and Regulus shuffle closer to you. “Men are fockin’ pricks!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Sirius! Where did you hear such language?”

Your eldest has the decency to look sheepish but doesn’t back down and answers honestly. “From some Muggle-borns at school,” his chin jutting out defiantly, and your eyes frantically move between him and Regulus over and over. You don’t like the intrigued expression on your youngest’s face, your concern for his language development growing with the blatant curiosity and fascination in his appearance.

Just as you see the familiar question of: ‘What does it mean?’ appear clearly on your sweet youngest’s face, you hurry to denounce Sirius’ speech, “Don’t repeat what Sirius just said Regulus.”

“I’m sorry, Mother, I won’t,” while Regulus apologetically looks up at you, Sirius looks at his brother with a sneaky smile tugging at the corners of his lips. And it was at that moment that you knew Sirius couldn’t be stopped from explaining the curses to his little brother. With a sigh, you shake your head, already accepting Sirius’ silent plans to go against your distaste for the swears. The least you could do is set a boundary so they know not to speak like that around you — you trust that they would use the words sparingly. 

“I don’t want that kind of language in this house. Please refrain from making such exclamations again. And no more eavesdropping, either. It’s bad manners.” The boys nod, their expressions downcast and apologetic, but they instantly light up when you lean down to kiss their foreheads, a reminder that you still love them despite their mistakes. You no longer have to word the sentiment but can’t help refraining from speaking through your actions. They needed the reassurance, though, and they appreciated your proactive, loving gestures. “I want you to grow up to be gentlemen… unlike your father.” The last part is whispered once again, but Sirius and Regulus hear it anyway, and, again, exchange another round of stifled snickers.

Sirius leans forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What were you and Father arguing about, Mother? And why are we all in my room?” He and Regulus managed to hear bits and pieces above their racing heartbeat drumming against their ears, but he needs you to confirm things. He didn't want to get his hopes up on the aspect of no longer attending those stiff and boring Yule dinners with other prestigious families. He didn’t want to get his hopes up on finally being able to celebrate the holiday the same way his friends had fondly and excitedly described.

With a fond smile, you brush a hand through Sirius's hair before doing the same to Regulus. There’s a warm affection in your eyes that’s hypnotising and makes them lean in to hear you even closer as you straighten your back from where you’re seated at the edge of the bed. “You two need to pack some luggage, enough for a week or so away.” there’s a lightness and purpose in your tone, a premature excitement.

Sirius deflates, his shoulders sagging as his face falls into an adorable pout. “But I just finished unpacking…”

You can’t help but giggle at his dramatics, adoring the sight of Regulus reaching over to pat his brother on the back comfortingly. “But you’ll want to pack for where I’m taking you two,” your eyes twinkle with mischief. “We’re leaving right from the Yule soiree tomorrow.”

That gets their attention immediately. Both boys perk up with interest and elation swimming in their wide eyes. “Where are we going?” Regulus asks, his voice filled with wonder. Both boys were standing on Sirius’ bed now and you can easily predict that they would soon be jumping about if you revealed anything more.

“You’ll find out tomorrow~” you sing playfully, standing from the bed to move to the door as you have to pack your own luggage. With half-hearted whines of protest, the brothers clamber off the bed and rush to your side, clinging to the long skirt of your dress in an attempt to pull more hints from you. “We’ll be getting there via the Floo Network, so I’ll keep your shrunken luggage with me at the soiree tomorrow. Your father won’t be joining us, I’m afraid, so make sure to say your goodbyes before we leave in the afternoon.” You wave your wand, summoning two identical lists that float gently into their hands. “Here’s a list of everything you’ll need to bring.”

“Okay, Mother,” they chorus, their voices filled with anticipation.

As a farewell, you lean down to kiss their temples, your heart swelling with love for them and their adorable antics. You’ve been blessed with the sweetest boys on earth! “Good. Have fun packing, you two.” As you leave the room, Sirius and Regulus’ vocalised animation for what’s ahead fades into the background. You hear that they’ve decided to help each other pack, starting with Sirius’ things — they believe that they might be able to piece together what you have planned for them through the list, which makes you giggle. Would they be able to deduce such a thing? This was a big surprise, after all. 

A spark of hope lights up within your chest, warming you up from the inside out. This Yule will be different, you’ll make sure of it. It’ll be different for them, for you, for all of you. There isn’t a trace of guilt or regret in your veins as you go through the list of events you have planned. You will create and share precious memories together — this will be a holiday to remember!  

24th December, 1971 | Yule Soiree, VIP Room 

The soiree is a glittering affair, an event dripping with such opulence that the induced propriety was suffocating, even to those accustomed to the affluence, but they did not show it. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, suspended in the air high above, alight with enchanted candles that never shortened, shining brighter than the muggle sort and emitting enthralling prisms of light. Expensive perfumes smothered the air in their thickness and polite conversation weaved through the palpable tension between some families. For the room to be considered the dignitary sort, set aside for the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, it wasn’t very remarkable aside from its adornment, credited to those in the staff who helped decorate. There was a designated area for quiet murmurings and another area for sharp laughter and even sharper smiles accompanying frivolous chatter. 

You manage to navigate the room with practised ease, your posture regal and expression composed, but your heart aches for a simpler affair, one filled with warmth — if not for you, then for your boys. Pity throbbed within the depths of your chest as you looked upon their grim features, they didn’t look like your sons; your boys were spritely and smiling, carefree and talkative but these two were not like that at all. Rather, they were stiff, their small shoulders straight with tension and their lips sealed shut, offering tight-lipped smiles to those who greeted you before eventually greeting them. Earlier on, you had asked Alphard if he would be attending the soiree too but was downhearted to find that he had some last-minute business at the office to deal with and that he wouldn’t be able to make it. The original Walburga grumbled in your head over her younger brother’s undistinguished behaviour, wanting to reprimand him for his lack of commitment to tradition but you quickly stamp out her unreasonable complaints by harassing her right back and threatening to whisk Sirius and Regulus away prematurely. That shut her right up.

From a distance, you spot three sisters comfortably chatting near the grand fireplace, their heads bent together to hear one another clearly amongst the chatter muffling the air. All three share the same black locks and pale complexion but adorn different demeanours and manner of dress for the holidays. “Are those your cousins, dears?” you ask in a whisper, leaning down slightly so you can be better heard by both children. 

“Yep,” Sirius confirms as Regulus nods from beside him. 

“Alright.” you take a moment to ponder on what to do next, “Do you both mind if I take a moment to speak with them? I’ll try to be quick,” the brothers share a brief look before nodding in unison. “Thank you, my loves. Try to occupy yourselves in the meantime okay?” As you approach the three sisters, Sirius and Regulus make their way to the food and beverages, not wanting to stand by their father even in your absence. 

Once you’re close enough, the girls spot you in their periphery and turn as a group to greet you appropriately. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and wariness as they wondered what the matriarch of House Black would want with them and without the patriarch beside her. It was odd to see you and Orion separately and even more odd was to see you without Sirius and Regulus at your sides; it was a known fact that you, as the matriarch kept an invisible leash on all three, maintaining the puppeteer of all behind the scenes.  

“Lady Black, good afternoon.” A sister greets you, her black hair fashioned into tight curls as her eyes hold a depth to them like that of a black hole. She is slightly taller than the other two and stands in the centre, subconsciously marking her as the eldest. You hazard a guess that this was Bellatrix, “You look different today,”  

With a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you reply, catching all three off guard as you’re not usually the type to smile. “As do you, Bellatrix… ” She doesn’t protest, so your deduction to her identity was correct. All of you have grown so much since I last saw you properly. You’re all so lovely for the Yule soiree today.”

Andromeda’s eyes soften while Narcissa remains impassive though you can see a flicker of some emotion in her eyes. Was she secretly flattered by your compliment? Bellatrix, however, narrows her eyes in scrutiny and confusion all at once. “Rumours say you’ve been acting strangely.” She leaves the air open for you to either confirm or deny her claim. The three had been able to see the affectionate way you acted towards Sirius and Regulus in the time you stepped into the celebration together, and it’s clear that they aren’t the only ones shocked by your drastic change in behaviour. 

“Is that so bad?” you watch carefully and patiently as Bellatrix mulls over your comment for a while. No one has outright dubbed your mannerisms unsuitable, and as the matriarch of the noble and most ancient house of Black, surely you have every right to act the way you deem most appropriate. Bellatrix can’t fault you for that so she concedes, she admires you, after all, so if you are acting this way, it’s for good reason. 

“I suppose not…” your smile finally reaches your eyes and the three sisters welcome your stunning visage. Rumours from your drop-off and eventual collection of Sirius at King’s Cross station have made its rounds and many praised your radiant smile. Now, not only are you the prestigious lady matriarch of House Black but you’re one who radiates beauty with a simple smile. They secretly consider themselves lucky to have experienced your beauty in person, they truly didn’t know what to believe, at first with the rumours, but they quite like them thus far. 

Now that Bellatrix’s suspicions have been dealt with, you focus instead on the warmth you want to convey. Something you had intended to commit from your detrimental notations for future events. “If any of you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll be there for you. Within reason, of course. All you have to do is ask or send a letter. We’re family, after all.” The three sisters’ eyes widen in unison, even demure and poised Narcissa. Andromneda’s breath hitches and there’s a wildness that swamps her eyes momentarily. 

“…Even for arranged marriages?…” Andromeda, the one who looks the most similar to Bellatrix comments, her dark curls are looser and her eyes are shaped less fiercely. With a snarl, Bellatrix nudges her twin sharply with an elbow whilst Narcissa gives an almost saddened look. 

“Andy!” Bellatrix hisses in a warning tone.

You freeze up, trying to comprehend her words as quickly as you can — if you pause for longer than normal, they’ll only grow suspicious of you; you should already know their world after all so nothing should surprise you to this extent. After a moment, your heart sinks in realisation and a sad softness floods your gaze.

“Your marriage is already arranged?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Bellatrix straightens and lifts her chin, stepping forward to partially shield her sisters. “Yes. And so is mine. I am set to marry Rodolphus Lestrange after I graduate. Andromeda will follow soon after, as she’s the younger twin. I will have an Autumn wedding and she will have a Spring wedding.” Bellatrix turns to smirk at Andromeda, though you don’t think it’s out of malice; her words didn’t ring maliciously to you, only factually as if she’s already accepted her and her sister’s fate. Andromeda turns her gaze to the floor and hugs herself for comfort whilst Narcissa steps closer, wanting to offer comfort in her own way.

“Do you want to marry Rodolphus, Bella?” you ask gently. Bellatrix blinks, her eyes wide with confusion as she’s momentarily thrown by the use of her nickname — only her sisters call her intimately yet you say it so naturally. Did you mean to call her by such an affectionate nickname or was it just a slip of the tongue? 

“It’s what’s expected of me,” she says in a dismissive tone, finally overcoming her slight surprise. “It’s our duty to carry on the purity of our blood.”

You accept the eldest sister’s answer with a slow nod before turning to the middle sister. “And you, Andy?” the child is just as shocked by your use of her nickname but, with some hesitation, eventually looks up at your soft and welcoming gaze. “Do you know who you’ll be marrying? Do you want to marry him?”

Andromeda shakes her head with a troubled expression. Even before this, it was clear from her body language alone that she was unwilling to accept her circumstances. “No…”

Bellatrix huffs at her sister’s side and pins her with a sharp glare before hissing out. “That’s because you’re being too picky, Andy. Do you know how upset Mother and Father are getting with you?”

“I know…” Andromeda sighs but doesn’t look as guilty as she should, in Bellatrix’s opinion, making her huff once more while Narcissa moves to stand between them as a silent mediator. “Mother and Father have been… difficult to talk to about these matters. One of the suitors they had picked out for me was over ten years my senior.” You suppress a shudder as your stomach churns at the dreadful thought. How could a parent submit their young daughter to such a fate? 

“…My offer stands,” leaning forward, you meet each of their eyes individually, emphasising your words. And, although your voice is stern, your gaze is warm and comforting, and you hope they can see the sincerity in it. “If you need anything, I’ll be there to help you as best as I can. All you need to do is ask.” The three sisters nod in unison but Andromeda’s eyes linger on you, unable to let go of the implication in your words. For once, she feels hopeful as she remembers her beloved Ted. You can see the wheels turning in her mind, and you wonder if she’s thinking of someone in particular — you have to hold back a smile when you realise she’s probably thinking of Edward Tonks. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The VIP room feels much colder now, and the air weighs heavily with unspoken words over your unusual behaviour. There have also been hushed whispers floating about—whispers of the Dark Lord and alliances forming in the shadows over the misinformed need to rebel against the acceptance of muggle witches and wizards entering their secret society of magic—making your stomach churn. The divide between the blood purists and the rest of the wizarding world was growing and growing; it had grown so much that it was palpable even in what was supposed to be a festive gathering. But you do your best to ignore the whispers and the stone of dread in your stomach, instead choosing to focus on finding Sirius and Regulus again. Glancing around, you spot them near the edge of the room leaning into each other. It appears as though they were looking for someone too, their expressions a mix of frustration and worry. You gather that they are looking for you and quickly make your way over to them, where you have the pleasure of seeing their adorable reactions as soon as they spot you in the crowd, your heart softening at the sight of your boys’ adorable faces brightening at your appearance. 

“Mother, there you are,” Sirius steps up to greet you once you're close enough, Regulus following closely at his side so that they can embrace you for a brief moment. 

“I’m happy to see you boys again, did I take too long?” Regulus shakes his head and presses his face into the folds of your long, emerald green dress. His actions make your brows furrow with concern and you meet Sirius’ gaze questioningly but your eldest seems to have the same downhearted expression on his face too. “What’s the matter, my loves?” 

“We’ve been looking for Uncle Alphard,” Sirius runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, his eyes darting about the room as he tries to find his favourite uncle once more, “We didn’t want to miss him because you said we’d be going away soon. But we can’t find him anywhere.” 

With a sigh, your expression softens with understanding, and your hand comes up to comfortingly pet Regulus’ hair, his face still buried in your skirt. He had been so excited to see the reunion between his uncle and Sirius; he desperately wanted his brother to know that there were more people, other than him and their mother, supporting him despite his sorting into Gryffindor. “I’m afraid your uncle had to work late at the office. He sends his apologies.” That doesn’t seem to help ease the boys’ sadness, so you allow them a slight peek into their holiday surprise, “He promises that he’ll see you both soon, though.” 

“But— didn’t he say he’d be here?…” Regulus pouts up at you, finally lifting his face off of your skirt. 

“I know, darling,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But duty calls, even during the holidays. Now, how about we leave this dreary room and head downstairs? The music is livelier, and the atmosphere is much warmer.” 

Sirius perked up at the suggestion, his grin returning as he nudged Regulus beside him encouragingly. “Finally, something fun. Come on, Reggie, let’s go.” the two walked ahead of you, though it was clear that Sirius wanted to run and pull Regulus along behind him, his nerves very obviously vibrating with excitement —you were glad for his restraint, however, and smiled in adoration at the brothers’ very sweet, very ordinary appearance from behind. 

The grand staircase led you down to the lower floor that buzzed with life. Laughter, chatter, and the festive tunes of a wizarding band filled the air, colouring the expansive room with much brighter colours than that of the upper floor you were earlier confined to. Wizarding families of different backgrounds mingled impartially and freely, their joys, infectious, and their movements, unburdened by the weight of blood purity or social standing. The live band at one end of the ballroom plays a lively tune whilst couples dance with abandon at the centre, people were free to join in or step out of the dance whenever they wanted. It was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the VIP room above, where the so-called elite sat in rigid clusters, their conversations hushed and their expressions guarded — this was what a true Yule celebration should feel like. Even with Walburga shouting like a possessed banshee in the back of your head, you have no regrets and plan on whiffing the smelling salts in your pocket as soon as possible. You weren’t about to faint on your boys and bring any amount of distress onto them so you’ve come prepared. 

The energy of the lower floor greeted the three of you like a warm embrace as you stepped down the final few steps. From your elevated perch on the steps moments ago, Sirius had quickly spotted a familiar figure across the room: another boy who was similar to him in age, sporting messy black hair, round glasses and an infectious, unmistakable grin.

“James!” Sirius calls with an enthusiastic wave. He calls his friend’s name several times before his voice manages to carry over the crowds and the music, prompting the messy-haired lad to finally turn and meet his close friend’s eyes, “Over here!”

As soon as James saw Sirius across the hall, his face lit up with a charming grin. He lifts a hand to wave your small family over to where he proudly stands with his parents. Sirius didn’t hesitate to push ahead as shy Regulus clutched onto your hand, staying back with you, despite meeting James briefly at King’s Cross, it appears as though he can’t quite get over his shyness yet. As Sirius neared the Potters, your heart warmed and raced; Fleamont and Euphemia were the perfect picture of benevolence, adding to their grace as they smiled, sincerely welcoming Sirius in return.

“Sirius, I didn’t know you were here!” James exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back once he was close enough. Sirius grinned widely in return and squeezed James with equal affection around the shoulders, “Mum, Dad, this is Sirius, my friend from Hogwarts. I’ve told you about him!”

Fleamont extended a hand to shake as his eyes twinkled under the chandeliers. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Fleamont, or Monty, whichever you prefer.”

Sirius shook his hand with a look of mischief in his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Monty, my man!” Your son’s cheekiness couldn’t be ignored, and Fleamont threw his head back with a laugh, welcoming him as James’ friend with open arms. 

Equally charmed, Euphemia stepped forward to give her greeting with a radiant smile. “I’m Euphemia, but you can call me Mia. Our Jamie has told us so much about you; it’s good to finally put a name to the face.” Rather than a handshake like her husband, she crouches down and pulls Sirius into a brief but warm hug. You can see the brief surprise and delight on Sirius’ face before he melts into her embrace with a warm grin. Sirius likens the feeling to the same one he feels whenever you hug him affectionately—of course, his mother’s hugs will forever be the best but he happily accepts the small comfort he finds in James’ mother too.

“So, how are your holidays so far?” James asked, his enthusiasm undimmed.

“Great!” Sirius replied with a similar enthusiasm, the image in his head only consisting of you and Regulus “Mother and Reg are here with me. Father’s up in the VIP room with the snobs.”

“Your mother, you say?” Euphemia’s eyes widened in surprise, and she exchanged a glance with her husband. Both turn just in time to see you approach them with Regulus at your side, their surprise still evident on their faces. You could see the wheels turning in their minds—the woman before them was not the cold, distant matriarch they had imagined. This can only mean that they didn’t hallucinate your friendly figure when they had gone to pick up James at Kings Cross Station. 

“Yeah! I’ll introduce you.” Sirius’ chest puffs out slightly as he gestures to you first, then Regulus, “Everyone, meet my mother and my little brother, Regulus.”

“Hello,” Regulus reaches out to shake the Potter couple’s hands before waving at James, who brings him into a friendly, one-armed hug over the shoulder. Sirius snickers beside them for a moment and quickly joins in the hug too, he loves seeing his brother get along with his close friend; he can only imagine how well Regulus would get along with Remus or Peter!

With a warm smile, you extend a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon. A pleasure to meet you both,” you shake Fleamont’s hand first before shaking Euphemia’s. You then turn to James, your smile ever soft and kind. “And it’s so good to see you again, James.”

James grinned. “You too, my lady.” he bows at the waist as you giggle and Sirius rolls his eyes, tempted to smack his friend over the head, “It’s good to see you in something other than black.”

“James!” Euphemia scolds with a wave of her finger.

Rather than the scowl of offence they were expecting you to wear, however, you laugh lightly and briefly play with the skirt of your dress. “Why, thank you. I suppose you could say the holiday season has gotten to me.” 

Euphemia stares in shock at you, so surprised by your change in demeanour that she couldn’t hold her tongue and agrees, “Indeed…” Embarrassed, Euphemia covers her mouth as Fleamont laughs heartily, pulling his wife close by her waist — a small gesture of comfort.

“There’s a special type of magic that goes around for the holidays,” The Potter patriarch says with a warm, understanding voice. 

Your small group falls into easy conversation after the tension was thoroughly melted away by introductions. There’s talk of the boys’ achievements at school, Regulus’ eagerness to join his older brother in the next academic year, the struggles of parenting such rambunctious youths followed by whining protests, and many more. Eventually, James drags your boys off to the food tables, promising them the best mini treacle tarts they’d ever tasted, and he should know, as a primary lover of the sweet treat. Regulus hesitated at first, glancing back at you for reassurance and relaxed when you gave him a small nod.

“Bring me back something tasty, darling,” you politely ask with an encouraging smile.

“Something salty or something sweet, Mother?” his voice is soft and dripping with consideration, ever the attentive type.

“Hmm… why don’t you pick?” Regulus nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips before dashing off to catch up with his brother and James. With the boys gone, you turned to the Potter couple with a question on your tongue. “Fleamont, Euphemia—”

“—Monty is fine,” Fleamont interrupted kindly.

“And just Mia is perfect for me too,” Euphemia added kindly. They were now able to tell for themselves that you weren’t the type of person they originally thought you were and it was a comfort; they found that any friend of their beloved son, they easily see as one of their own so it was a comfort to know that Sirius had you as his mother. 

Surprised by their willingness to be familiar with you, you take a moment to process what they’ve said before nodding, your cheeks heating up slightly from the prolonged pause you had taken. “Of course, thank you Monty, Mia…” The couple’s smiles brighten at your use of their nicknames, “So, for the holidays, I planned a surprise for my boys: a little getaway from our city home. I was wondering if we could organise some sort of playdate, where James could come over along with Sirius’s other friends for a day or two — the two of you are perfectly free to attend as well.”

Fleamont’s eyes light up in an instant. “That sounds good to me. I’m sure James would appreciate spending time with friends outside of school.” As Fleamont laughs cheerily his wife nods in agreement, their eyes sparkling with equal excitement.

“It would be nice to get out of the house too. Is it okay for us to spend the day with you as well?”

“Of course! Honestly, it would be preferred.” You’re quick to reassure her but pull a rather sheepish look, “I don’t think I’m ready to monitor five rambunctious teens by myself.”

“Won’t Orion be with you?” Fleamont asks curiously. 

“I’m afraid he has other important matters to attend to.” The Potters exchanged a concerned glance but said nothing and followed your lead on ignoring the subject altogether. Their smiles quickly returned as they agreed to your invitation. 

“We’d be happy to attend!” Euphemia perks up, “Do you already have a date in mind?”

“I was thinking a weekend but not Yule, that is a day for families; so the weekend after that. On the first or second of January would be ideal.

“Done.” Fleamont shares a smile with his wife. 

“We should be careful that the boys don’t try to convince us to have a sleepover,” Euphemia laughs as you and her husband join in. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they do. From the letters James sent home, they’re a rather troublesome bunch.” Prompted by her husband, Euphemia combs her fingers through his messy locks as she straightens her back, appearing to look for something through Fleamont’s locks. 

“Still no grey hairs, darling, you’re not to worry.”

“So cheeky,” Fleamont rolls his eyes at his wife, who just giggles and cuddles into his side. Their exchange is adorable and sweet, and pulls a fond smile onto your lips.

“It’s settled then; I’ll be sending you an owl closer to the time as a sort of formal invitation. You can easily use the floo network to get there, I’ll provide instructions in the letter I send you. Oh and please try to keep the date a secret, I want the whole thing to remain a surprise for the boys.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Euphemia agrees as  Fleamont smiles lovingly at his wife’s obvious excitement. 

“Of course! I can’t wait for the day!

“I’ll make sure to be a good host,”

When the boys finally return, Regulus proudly presents you with a sweet treat, while Sirius hands you something savoury. You sample both equally, your expression brightening with delight at their delicious choices for you. “Thank you, my darlings. Both were very tasty!” after wiping your lips with a small handkerchief, you kiss each of them on the forehead to which they beamed up at you with radiant smiles.

Watching the exchange, James’ expression becomes almost shy as he looks up at his mother, who gives him a questioning look. “Why are you looking at me like that, Jamie?…” 

“Nothin’.”

“It’s because I wasn’t given something yummy that you don’t get to have a kiss~” She giggles as James blushes, dashing off for a quick moment before coming back with a treacle tart for his mother. Finally, Mia kneels down and gives him a kiss in thanks, giggling as her husband chuckles behind his hand. 

“I told you you should have got it the first time, you plonker,” Sirius teased, and James groaned, his cheeks flushing.

“Shut up, Sirius,” 

As the afternoon grew a little older, you were dragged onto the central floor by Sirius and Regulus, who planned on sharing a dance with you together. All three of you joined hands and improvised a three-person waltz as best as you could to the festive music. The entire time, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling — to think that your boys could get any more precious. You questioned why they were both dancing with you at once rather than separately, and their answer was said in such an obvious tone that it made you think that they didn’t argue for long on the topic, deeming the compromise as the perfect solution. 

“We couldn’t decide who got to dance with you first. So we’re dancing the first dance with you, together!” They’re too sweet! 

Several dances later, you were finally gathering the boys to say their goodbyes. First were to the Potter family, who wished you all well for the holidays, and you, them. Then, you ascended back to the VIP room, where Orion remained engrossed in conversation with the other purist families. While you voiced your goodbye to your husband, the boys gave curt goodbyes to all of their cousins except Andromeda, who received the warmest goodbye — she was very obviously their favourite for her kind and understanding nature. When it came to saying goodbye to their father, however, the boys hesitated. You had already moved on to bidding farewell to other patriarchs, matriarchs and cousins, so you weren’t there to see their attempts to bid their father goodbye. Each time, they were met with a dismissive wave, pushing them away more and more.

“Come on Reggie,” Sirius huffs under his breath, glaring at his father from under the stray whips of curls that had fallen over his eyes, “Mother is waiting for us.” Sirius leads the way to where you stand by the VIP room’s exit.

“But—! We didn’t say goodbye to father—” 

“Why does it matter? He doesn’t care anyway!” 

When they finally reach you, their sadness dissipates from the sight of your radiant smile. “Did you say goodbye to your father?”

The two nod with guarded expressions thinly veiled by a smile before you move to urge them to the exit, “Then let’s be off.”

Together, you collected your coats and stepped into the fireplace. With a small countdown, you all simultaneously threw down the powder as you called out the clear destination. “Astrolite Hall!” Green flames engulf your small trio in an instant, and, moments later, you emerge to find yourselves standing in the grand sitting area of a breathtaking countryside estate nestled in the Yorkshire Dales. The boys gasp, their eyes wide with wonder as they take in the establishment around them. They weren’t very familiar with the other Black family estates outside of their city home and the few dotted around France so this was a pleasant surprise, a new adventure. At this new thrill, their earlier displeasure with their father is easily forgotten. Taking in their precious expressions, your heart swells with love.

The manor was breathtaking—a sprawling countryside estate that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting golden beams across the polished antique furniture. Through the windows, you could glimpse the gorgeous greenery outside, symmetrical, well-kept and lush despite the winter season, there was even a fountain at the centre. The air smelled unfamiliar but pleasant with a touch of tuberose and amber, a welcome change from the cramped atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, though you do miss the touches of dried lavender you and Regulus littered about the house.

“Welcome, my darlings,” you softly announce, leading them inside.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, his voice ringing with awe as his eyes took in the manor. “Blimey, Mother, this place is massive!”

“Yeah!” Regulus rolls on the balls of his feet beside his brother with equal enthusiasm. Both were as charged with energy as the other, feeding off one another’s excitement and vigour as their wide eyes took in the grandeur of the parlour. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings, and a crystal chandelier hung above them, one that looked even more extravagant than the ones they saw at the soiree. Their incontestable joys were infectious but you did your best to temper your own excitement as much as possible, settling for a calm smile so that there was a balance of emotions in the positively charged atmosphere.

“This place is called Astrolite Hall, and I don’t think we’ve been here before,” you inform them helpfully shrugging off your heavy coat to hang on the back of an antique grandfather chair. “But it’s going to be our home for the holidays. What do you think?”

“It’s brilliant!” Sirius exclaimed, eager to dart off and explore. Regulus was more for a moment, glancing up at you briefly, before looking to his brother with a smile — you don’t know if he wanted to silently apologise for his uncharacteristic zest or seek brief assurance from your body language. You can tell that they were keen to scout out the new space, they were like racehorses eagerly awaiting the horn and the opening of the gates to launch them into competition. 

“Why don’t you two pick out your bedrooms upstairs? Once you’ve decided, I’ll un-shrink your luggage, we can unpack and then you can explore to your heart’s content.” 

Loving the idea, Sirius and Regulus zip up the grand staircase, their footfalls muffled by the thick carpet as you follow close behind, gigging into your palm as you lift the skirt of your dress to better traverse the stairs. By the time you got to the upper floor, they had already chosen their rooms, indicated by the doors they had left open for you to peek into. You weren’t surprised that they chose rooms that were right beside each other, but it still made you smile at the close bond that they have with each other; they deserve to have a close sibling relationship, and it warmed your heart to see it’s open display. 

“Is this the room you want?” you ask, pulling Sirius’ luggage out of your pockets. From where he lay sprawled over the large, king-sized bed, Sirius launched himself into a sitting position and nodded with much enthusiasm, his curls bouncing up and down with the movement. 

“My room is the next one over, Mother,” Regulus announces, grinning widely at you as he sits up with his brother. It looked as though they were making snow angels from the bedsheets, their excitement making them forget their usual manners. But you were happy to see them having fun so you don’t fuss about it the same way Walburga was shrieking up a storm in the back of your mind. Once you had deducted who’s room was who’s, you approached and un-shrunk their luggage with a wave of your wand — you love magic so much; it made things so convenient for you.  

“Which room will you pick?” Sirius asked as he jumped down to begin unpacking. 

“I think that one will do,” you announce, standing in the doorway and pointing at the room directly across from theirs, this made the boys grin in delight as they secretly cheered that Orion wasn’t there to ruin the mood. So as to not waste any more time, Regulus hurries to his room so that he can unpack as well. 

“Once you unpack, you can explore the estate as much as you like but try to make it downstairs in the sitting room by 5 pm, please; I have a special task I need you two to help me with.”

“What sort of task?” Sirius asks with curiosity as Regulus appears in his doorway with an equally curious look. The two watch as you elegantly walk to your room to unpack your bags too. 

“A fun task,” you replied, looking over your shoulder so they could see the giddy twinkle in your eyes.

Regulus’ pulls the sweetest most hopeful expression you could think of. “Really?”

“Yes! And we’re going to do it together while Kreacher cooks dinner in the kitchen.”

“Kreacher’s here?” Regulus lights up even more, like a Christmas tree.

“Of course,” you smile as your youngest vibrates with excitement, and Sirius laughs at his little brother’s obvious joy before poking fun at him teasingly. Regulus whines, expressing that he likes Kreacher so, of course, he’s excited, but you can see the fondness that remains in their eyes — they’re true siblings.

“But it feels a little stiff in these formal clothes,” you add, easily magicking your luggage’s contents into the appropriate storage compartments about your room, “Why don’t we change into our pyjamas for the rest of the day?”

Regulus frowned. “But it’s not nearly bedtime yet.”

Sirius rolls his eyes but grins brightly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be in our pyjamas! Come on, Reggie!” The two hurry to finish unpacking so they can change into their pyjamas while you change into your own as well, though it took you a little longer than anticipated.

“Have fun exploring boys, see you downstairs!” you call, finally walking out of your room and down the hall to descend the stairs in your ankle-length, white-cotton sleep dress with long sleeves. Despite the cold temperatures outside, the estate was the perfect climate, even the carpeted floors were heated as you walked about in your socks.

“See you later!” The boys call back in unison.

When you meet with Kreacher in the kitchen, the boys were already causing a storm upstairs, though you didn’t quite mind; it was nice to have a lively atmosphere about a home for once. With Orion at Grimmauld Place, the air always felt a little stiff and dull so you’re glad the boys could finally act like children without any restraints. 

“The young masters be being very loud today,” Kreacher comments with a small smile as the two of you prepare the ingredients for dinner together.  

“Yes, they are. Doesn’t it sound lovely?” you ask but giggle when there’s a loud shout from upstairs (Sirius), quickly followed by a sharp ‘shush’ (Regulus) and then shared laughter.

“Very lovely the sound be, mistress!” Kreacher shares a smile with you before you both return to the task at hand, indulging in the music of cheer your two boys create upstairs. Tonight’s menu consisted of a comforting, slow-cooked beef with potatoes, carrots, peas, garlic, and onions in a hearty beef and red wine broth. With it, you have the options of garlic bread and, or mashed potatoes. 

“You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you, Kreacher?” it was a gentle request, one that you consistently make before every meal as you and the house elf work together to prepare something delicious. Your hope is that the holiday season will finally allow him to agree and dine with you. 

“N-no thank you, Mistress…” you sigh but don’t express any frustration or dismay, only acceptance as Kreacher looks up at you with a small, apologetic smile. At least he felt comfortable enough to reject your offer. “Big master Black will be wanting his dinner tonight too so Kreacher is busy.”  

“I understand,” you make a point of meeting his glassy eyes before expressing your gratitude sincerely, “thank you for working so hard for our family, Kreacher,”

“Mistress is welcome.” And at least he was comfortable accepting praise and saying ‘you’re welcome’, now too.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius and Regulus ran through the halls, their endless laughing echoing off the walls as they explored every nook and cranny of the large, unacquainted estate. The manor was everything you could dream of for the boys. There was a grand library with towering shelves filled with books and plush reading nooks; it was much larger than the one at Grimmauld Place. There was a games room filled with magical and Muggle board games (courtesy of you), a cosy reception area with a roaring fireplace, and a curving staircase that had a sturdy bannister to slide down. All the available bedrooms, of which there were six, had their own en suite bathrooms and balconies with equally scenic views all around. A beautiful, ergonomic study room was at the very end of the upper floor’s hall, with its own mini library, two large desks with drawers and golden emeralite bankers lamps. There was even a room full of paintings ranging from portraits to scenic views of the ocean or sloping fields. All of the paintings moved, and most of the portraits were of ancestral Black family members, who, unfortunately, had many unpleasant blood purity things to say, so Sirius and Regulus didn’t stay long to admire the gallery. 

Once the boys came downstairs, they slipped into the dining room, which was a masterpiece of elegance. It was primarily occupied by a long, polished table that could seat twenty. A sideboard took up space beneath the scenic painting hung on one side of the room, where inside its drawers were matching plates and bowls with analogous silverware. There were also antique china: teapots, cups and saucers, and a tiered dish tray for afternoon tea. Yes, the boys opened and searched every drawer and cabinet. The other side of the dining room had floor-to-ceiling glass walls that opened to a raised decking area so that there was an option for outdoor dining should the weather permit it.

Through the tall windows, the outside grounds were just as impressive. In the distance, there stood a large greenhouse that was bursting with colourful flora within. It was so large that the boys debated whether they could faintly see a spiralling staircase and mezzanine inside or not. There was also a sprawling porch area that overlooked a serene pond with many lily pads on the surface, surrounded by the well-kept gardens and it’s tall, topiary cone hedges and walls. To end their adventure, the boys returned to the sitting area they had first entered, touching every piece of furniture and clambering onto every place to sit before they admired the view outside. The greenery was identical to the one they had seen through the dining room windows, except there wasn’t a large greenhouse or a pond, but there was a beautiful fountain spouting water at the very centre of it all. 

“Did you have fun exploring?” you turn to face the boys who enter the kitchen with flushed cheeks as they softly panted. Looking about the space, they could tell that the kitchen was a chef’s dream, complete with a walk-in pantry stocked to the brim so that you may never grow hungry. The smell in the air was mouth-watering, and they could spot a stewing pot on the impressive gas stove bubbling away beneath its cover. Another pot of boiling potatoes sat beside it with a fork and a wooden spoon nearby to help check the potatoes’ tenderness. The ovens were also at work, it seemed, though they couldn’t quite make out what was inside. Dinner smelled delicious already, as usual. 

“It was so much fun!” They said in unison as you giggled. Undoing your apron, you step up to their buzzing figures with a smile, committed to hearing all about their explorations but they have other plans. In their barely contained excitement grab one of your hands each and tug you away pleadingly, asking about the special, fun task you had promised them earlier. Of course. How could you think that their sharp minds would forget such a promise?

“Let's go do that thing you needed our help with!”

“What is it anyway, Mother?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, it’s in the living room—” They begin to drag you away more earnestly but you stop them before they can pull you too far. “Hold on now,” you laugh and look over your shoulder at Kreacher, who was standing on a stool by the kitchen counter, preoccupied with the brief side-task you had given him earlier, “Why don’t we grab some snacks from Kreacher, first? Don’t forget your ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s.” Kreacher’s ears perked up at the mention of his name and he eagerly turned to brighten at the sight of his young masters’ fixed gazes on him, his long ears flapping in delight. 

“Can we have a small snack, please Kreacher?” Regulus begins as he and his elder brother step up to stand on either side of the house elf. 

“Are you preparing our snacks right now?” Sirius asks, peering over the counter to glimpse at what the house elf had been so preoccupied with. 

“Yes yes, eldest young master,” Kreacher eagerly cheered before looking a little sheepish, “Kreacher will be taking just a little bit more time with thems though, young masters.” his veiny hands shyly covers the finger sandwiches he had been assembling, embarrassed from their half-made state.

With a nod of understanding, you urge the boys to the pantry, “That’s alright Kreacher, it’ll give us time to make hot chocolate,” your comment makes Sirius snap his attention towards you, eyes bright — making hot chocolate together was something James had mentioned that he and his family did every night during the Yule holidays. Would he get to partake in the same cosy ritual with his own happy family? “Oh! Are you excited, Siri?” you softly coo, tenderly poking his cheek with a teasing grin as Regulus snickered at your other side. 

“H-how are we making the hot chocolate, Mother?” Sirius diverts the topic, wanting to get the attention off him and focus on the hot chocolate. Thankfully, you follow his lead with grace. 

“We’re making it on the stove but we need to get the ingredients first,” working together, you gather up the ingredients and melt chocolate blocks into a pot with four mug-fuls of full-cream milk. While Sirius carefully stirs the softly bubbling, chocolatey liquid, you and Regulus whip up the cream to go on top together. Each person was allowed to assemble their own hot chocolate after you poured a portion into the four mugs (the last being for Kreacher). You made yours the way you liked before looking over to see how everyone liked theirs. Sirius had a mountain of fluffy, whipped cream on his with chocolate shavings on top. Regulus liked his hot chocolate with a reasonable amount of whipped cream and mini marshmallows. When presented with his own festive mug of hot chocolate to assemble, Kreacher didn’t care for the whipped cream but went crazy over the mini marshmallows, which made all of you giggle. 

Now that everything was complete, Kreacher snapped his fingers to quickly assemble the freshly baked cookies and finger sandwiches onto decorated tea plates atop a wooden tray, leaving room for coasters so that you had a place to put your hot chocolate mugs on. “Thank you, Kreacher,” you voice kindly, taking the wooden tray into your hands from where it was suspended mid-air before Sirius and Regulus soon followed you with their gratitudes. 

“Thanks, Kreacher!”

“Thank you so much, Kreacher!”

“Mistress and the young masters a-are welcome…” Kreacher hides his shyness in his mug of hot chocolate, his droopy ears tinted an adorable pink at the tips. 

“Feel free to join us in the living room, Kreacher, the more the merrier!” you call behind you, stepping out of the kitchen and making your way to the living room as Regulus and Sirius hold the doors open for you. 

As soon as you made it to the living room, you set down the tray of snacks and hot chocolate on the coffee table before waving your wand to reveal your surprise: the hidden Christmas tree. The proud, bushy Douglas fir tree stood in the corner, tall and full but undecorated, occupying the space with its lush branches, and almost reached the high ceiling. Earlier, you had asked Kreacher to enchant the tree with a preservation charm just for the holidays so that the boys don’t have to see the fir shedding its needles, with ease, Kreacher did just that with a snap of his fingers. 

Eying the tall fir’s barren appearance, Sirius is reminded of the marvellous way December began for him, where he and his close friends saw Hagrid dragging the giant Christmas tree into Hogwarts’ main hall. Once magicked upright, all the professors extravagantly decorated it, leaving behind the most beautiful tree he had ever laid eyes on. Sirius was surrounded by magic since birth but seeing the tree get decorated so beautifully was the most magical thing he had ever witnessed.

Sirius’ expression dropped into a frown, disappointed that this tree may remain the same bare and joyless tree they’d had for every Yule growing up. If only his family’s tree could look a fraction similar to the tree at Hogwarts. “It looks a little dull, Mother.” 

“Dull?” Sirius snaps his attention to Regulus, only just realising what he had said aloud. “Isn’t it usually like that?”

Your heart broke at your youngest’s genuine confusion and the implication of his innocent words. It makes you want to lash out at the poor excuse of a mother sequestered in the back of your mind but your priority will always be your boys first so you steady your smile, instead, watching the two interact as you lift your wand once more behind them. Without them noticing, you manage to nudge a heavy box into view. 

“You should see the giant tree they put up in the main hall at Hogwarts,” Sirius’ voice is filled with awe and there’s a thrill behind it that makes you believe he’d stop at nothing to show his little brother the grandly decorated tree he had witnessed. “It’s beautiful, Reggie.”

“And our tree is going to look equally beautiful with all the decorations we put on it,” you announce, grinning at their wonder-filled expressions before directing their attention to an innocuous box at the side of the tree. The boys waste no time rushing to it, their eyes widening as soon as they see the beautiful ornaments inside. There were shiny baubles of all different shapes, delicate glass figurines, and strings of golden tinsel. The common theme of colours were gold, silver, red and green.

Sirius looks up at you with a hopeful expression as Regulus brings out a string of tinsel to play with. “Are we… are we decorating the tree together, Mother?”

“Of course we are, my love.”

Sirius’ chest swells with warmth and launches himself at you without a second thought, hugging you around the waist as he buries his bright grin into the cotton of your night dress. This was his second wish for the holidays that had come true, first the hot chocolate, now tree decorating with the family. Regulus, though quieter and still awing over the glittering tinsil, looked equally thrilled, his hands now reaching for the beautiful ornaments.

“Our tree is going to be the most beautiful tree ever!” Sirius cheers, digging for the ornaments that he finds are the most aesthetically pleasing before rushing to hang them on the fir tree’s needles, “Come on Reggie!” Regulus hops up beside his brother and happily lays the tinsel on the green branches with a happy cheer. To set the mood properly, you approach the gramophone on a side table and begin to play a Christmas album.

As you decorate the tree together, Kreacher eventually joins you and, with him, you enchant the candles to prevent any fire hazards before fixing them onto the tree and setting them alight. There was a small ladder at hand for you and the boys to utilise so that you could reach higher up the tree, but you left the climbing to the boys, choosing to remain at the foot of the ladder, instead, to hold it steady and catch them if they ever toppled over. On occasion, you would all partake in a small snack and drink break, the boys happily gulping down their hot chocolate before it has the chance to cool down. However, in their eagerness, they were left with melted cream above their upper lips, sending everyone into a fit of giggles. Everyone managed to, at least, acquire a white moustache throughout the evening. 

Laughter, the soft clinking of ornaments, and softly playing Christmas songs never allowed the room to grow quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were together, happy and carefree, creating precious memories that would last you a lifetime.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 11 : PLAYDATE →

A/N : this was a pretty long one, i'm so sorry my loves but i hope you enjoy the read! i'm also really sorry that it's come out so late, life has been really busy for me recently and i have a lot of things going on at once, i hope you understand.

i also want to announce that this series will be going on HIATUS as i want to take the time to thoroughly plan future chapters and plot points, i also want to focus on other writing projects i plan on releasing this year. and, i hate to admit it but DOB has grown a little exhausting to keep up with because of everything going on currently and i don't want to push updates to the point of burnout as that'll risk me abandoning the series altogether and i intend to finish it.

i hope you darlings can understand where i'm coming from, i'll try to get back to the series as soon as i can but i can't guarantee a definite date of return. i love you all so so much! thank you for supporting and loving the series so far! see you soon!

[lucysstoryworld]

The Tormented & The Unforgiven | Azriel x Reader

Summary: What happens when one of Azriel's most trusted spies, someone he is beginning to care for, betrays him?

Warnings: This is dark and quite graphic. Abuse, torture, waterboarding, death. MDNI. Angst.

Word Count: 7,558

Masterlist

This wasn't happening... this was all just a sick nightmare. You'd wake up at any moment now, tangled in the sheets of your bed. The sun rising over a cool winter morning and trickling through your window would lull you from your slumber at any moment, you were certain. You tried to pinch yourself and were met with a tug. As if on cue, a dull yet deep ache permeated from your shoulders to your arms. A tingling feeling vibrated your fingertips, chained above your head. Oh... yes. Breaths rattled through your lungs, a crackling filling the dank space.

Definitely not happening... surely not.

Opening your eyes was a chore. They stung, the faelight from the hallway burned your retinas. A low hiss and another attempt later, your eyes remained open. The ache in your neck felt insignificant compared to that of those pulsing at random points in your body. The gorsian shackles choking your wrists and ankles ensured the pain would last. An low, agonised moan escaped your lips.

Definitely is happening. The agony that spread through every nerve of your body was all the proof you needed. Raising your head, you desperately tried to clear the fog. You were suspended from the ceiling with gorsian shackles, with matching chains gripping your ankles. The smell of damp and mould was almost as distracting as the cold that nipped at your body and heightened the ache of your injuries. There were small puddles on the floor beneath you, a leaking roof too - high risk of infection to the wounds that were littered across your body. Your mind was still lagging behind reality, your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Breathe. Remember your training.

A deep breath in, you focused on filling your lungs to their capacity. Pursing your lips, you blew the breath out slowly. Your focus remained solely on controlling the exhalation, all the way until there was nothing left. You repeated this twice more, just as your boss had trained you. Our job can be terrifying at times, this technique can help you focus and bring your heart rate down. Make our decision making more rational, he had said. He was right, you had come to realise. The breathing exercise had allowed you to calm down on more than a handful of occasions. That being said, it did not make your current situation any easier to understand. You remembered how you got here now... and you still couldn't wrap your head around it.

***

It was a normal day, for you at least. Returning from a mission a day previous, you had today to report your findings to Azriel and to rest. Exhaustion laid heavy on your body, the mission had been a long one with little reward. Although every mission had been similar to that as of late. While Eris was to be somewhat trusted, as Azriel had put it, it would be unwise to not send his own spies to make sure the High Lord and Lady were not being blindsided. So that was your detail. Stake out the Autumn Court and High Lord Beron along with his family. Figure out what was occurring behind the curtains and try to discover Beron's motives... at least so Azriel didn't have to rely on the word of Eris Vanserra. Though your boss had warned you to keep as much distance as you could, with all the Autumn Court soldiers being bewitched he did not wish that fate on you or any of your colleagues... yet you couldn't help the flutter in your heart when he had expressed this concern while looking directly into your eyes. You allowed yourself the small comfort (or delusion) of believing he told you this because he cared about you.

You used to have a rendezvous point with the Spymaster. Yet, after a rough mission in which you were too incapacitated to move from your bed, it soon became the routine for you and Azriel to debrief at your home. Not that you were complaining. You lived a solitary life being in your line of work. There were no records of your existence anywhere, no family to remember you nor any friend to seek your company. A truly invisible female. Apart from Azriel of course, though you were sure he did not see you as a friend or even acquaintance, just his employee. Not even his second in command. Though it did not stop you from feeling excited by his visits. They reminded you that you were alive. That you, at least, had one person who knew of your existence. So, with the butterflies of a youth in your stomach, you prepared for your visitor. You had already written out your report and left it sitting on your living room table. You had dressed in your usual style, and waited for Azriel to come to your door. The rushing of the Sidra filled your living area through the open window. Your generous salary as a spy allowed you to build this house, along the youthful stage of the river where it raced downhill and eventually through Velaris. You had not yet laid your eyes on the city that was only a depiction in your mind from how Azriel had described it. You knew he trusted you at least that much, to allow you to know where he resided. He had once offered to bring you there. Then the war happened and it became the last thing on either of your minds.

A series of knocks pulled you from your wandering thoughts. The seemingly nondescript rhythm of taps on the door made sure you knew who was on the other side. You fought back the slight grin that threatened to widen. You chided yourself, you were acting no better than the human females in the tales of princesses and knights you had read as a teenager. Your teenaged years had been rough, you had travelled up and down Prythian five times over, stealing and tricking to get by. You knew you wouldn't live as long as other fae did back then, your way of life bound to end you sooner rather than later by means of starvation or by disgruntled merchants. The books you nicked from time to time allowed you to fall into a different reality for a short while where life was much simpler. Where life consisted of whether or not the stars would align and let the princess remain with her true love. A moment later, you opened the door with the signature smile stretching across your lips. As quick as your smile appeared, it disappeared. Azriel was not alone.

Standing beside your boss was another Illyrian male few inches shorter though no less intimidating. For every blue siphon Azriel possessed, this male had just as many red ones. This must be Cassian, the General. You glanced at your boss warily, feeling slightly betrayed by him as your privacy was breached. Though from the look of his amber gaze, you knew it was not a good time to tackle him on it.

"Come in," You mumbled confusedly and widened the door. They stepped in and you watched as Azriel guided the warlord to sit at the table you had just been daydreaming at moments ago. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" Careful, you warned yourself. Something wasn't right about this situation. Instinct had you scrambling to gain control of the unfolding events.

"No. Sit down," Azriel ordered. This was not the male you were accustomed to. While one could never describe Azriel as flamboyant, he was also not usually this cold toward around you. Quiet yet caring, not cold and calculating.

"Yes, sir," was your reply and you settled in the seat opposite the two males. Your heart was beginning to thump in anticipation. Your tendencies had you wishing you at least had your dagger nearby. You trust him, you always have, the voice in your mind whispered. Reaching out to open the report between the three of you, you did not miss how the General tensed ever so slightly. It was a movement so slight that, to the untrained eye, it would have been unnoticeable. Meeting Azriel's eyes once again, you allowed the confusion to show on your face. "I assume you want the report of my previous mission in Autumn." You weren't sure if it was a question or a statement.

A few beats of silence passed and both males stared you down. You waited, staring back. If there was something amiss, you would not allow them to think it was something to do with you. "Go ahead." Azriel's tone was so... cruel. Like you were a mouse caught in the claws of a street cat. Like he was toying with you.

You would not bite. If there was an issue, they were more than capable of speaking plain to you. "As you know, this mission spanned a period of four months," You began. As you continued to debrief your mission, you felt as though you were speaking to brick walls. While both sets of eyes remained solely focused on you, they seemed to be looking through you. As though what you were saying was insignificant. You tried to make sense of it. There was no major outcomes of your mission, so perhaps that was the reason for their demeanour. "I observed a member of High Lord Beron's spy circle enter and leave fairly often. I could not get close enough to determine why or what was the reason for these visits. I dug as much as I could but could only ascertain that it had something to do with Eris. If he has been absent then it is likely because he is being watched closely." Closing the report, you slid it across the table to Azriel, "Anything I may have missed will be in my report like always." You never missed out on any detail, though you always said it to Azriel.

You sat back in your chair. There was usually some discussion after you finished your report. Azriel would question you on various parts of your account in order to try make a connection that you could have missed. When you were new to the world of being a spy, it annoyed you to no end. You did not enjoy being second guessed. Azriel had explained to you that all he wished to do was brainstorm with you, try to figure out the puzzles together. A problem shared is a problem halved. So the lack of conversation after only added to uncertainty and began to grate on your nerves.

"Anything else?" The General pressed. Your head shot to him. He looked ready to pounce on you at any moment.

Heckles raised, your brows furrowed, "No?"

"Are you sure?" Azriel bit. If Cassian looked ready to pounce, Azriel looked ready to kill.

"Yes, I'm sure," You snapped back, heart beginning to race. "Can you cut it out? Get to the point!"

You cursed yourself for slightly jumping when Azriel's fist slammed against your wooden table. Your mind ran in circles around itself trying to decipher what it was that you had done to have your boss so visibly angry. So visibly struggling to control his fury. "I am being more than patient with you. You have one final chance to reveal what you have done... I cannot and will not refrain from extrapolating it through any means necessary." His voice was a vicious growl that seemed to make your very bones tremble.

Your stomach felt weak, your cool and calm spy demeanour a thing of the past. Sweat accumulated along your brow as your eyes frantically darted between your boss and the General. "I-I..." You hesitated. You were drawing a blank and a curse quickly followed from your breath at just how guilty you looked, especially to one so keen as the Spymaster of Night himself. "I truly do not know what this is about... please I'm sure whatever has happened is some sort of miscommunication." You nearly fell over your chair as you stumbled out of it, trying to create some distance between yourself and the hulking Illyrians who were beginning to stalk towards you in a strange unison. They didn't appear to be doing it consciously though that did nothing to ease the terror snaking up your spine as they drew nearer. "Azriel please... you must believe me. I don't know what this is about. You know me!" It was true. Azriel was the only living soul on The Mother's land that knew you through and through.

A cruel snort from Azriel seemed to dash any hope from you. "I thought I did, though that was my mistake," Azriel replied. In an instant both males grabbed your arms and forced you to your knees. You hated to admit it, but the feeling of betrayal had tears beginning to line your eyes. You hated it even more when you began to plead with him, beg him to believe you. However neither Cassian nor Azriel replied. They only secured chains around your wrists and ankles and a charmed sack over your head. The sack blocked all sound and sight, not even a crack of light. Your panic created a lump in your through as the only noise to greet you was your own laboured breaths. The tears finally dribbled over when your felt the hands of Azriel and Cassian roughly push and shove you to and fro. You knew where you were headed. You had delivered a target or two to the dungeons of the Hewn City -- well you had delivered them to Azriel's second in command, or Azriel himself, to bring there.

You knew that those targets never left those dungeons either.

***

You remembered now. Some time had passed from then... a few days... a few weeks... you weren't sure. It was so desperately, desperately dark down here. You had been rendered unconscious a number of times. Whatever information Azriel believed you possessed translated to him using all manner of force to squeeze it out of you. He allowed other members of his spy circle... your spy circle to torture this mystery information out. He knew the betrayal would cut deeper than any blade or whip ever could. Despite the kindness within Azriel, he was a talented torturer. He seemed to know that mere flesh wounds wouldn't break someone like you. You had known cuts and bruises long before you ever came into Azriel's employ. And he knew that. Seeing the quiet rage in your former colleagues eyes, seeing your own betrayal reflected in their gazes, tore something in you. You had worked with each one of them on one mission or another. Now they were taking their pain out on you... traitor had been imbedded onto your torso by Alyia in her native tongue from the continent. Elijah had pulled out your molars, his knife tearing strips from your gums in the process. Oscar ripped three fingernails from you. You screamed and wailed that you knew nothing. That this was a mistake. Though your pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

So you hung there, despair your only company until the next barrage began. No one would believe you, that much was painfully obvious now. They would not allow you a quick nor painless death... so you stopped eating and drinking. You would at least keep your dignity in controlling your own death, even if your mouth had the consistency of sandpaper and hunger pains were a torture in their own right.

Footsteps began to echo toward your cell. They were light, but making themselves known. Azriel. He had not shown himself since you had been dragged here. A strategic move on his part. He was saving his presence until it was absolutely necessary, you were sure. He allowed your colleagues to begin chipping away at your presumed resolve. Allowed them to begin cracking you, so he could deliver the final blow and reveal all your secrets. You raised your head, waiting for him with half lidded eyes. Seeing him standing there, wings flared and a tray in hand, brought a rush of emotions. Anger, rage, despair, betrayal, injustice. You wanted to scream at him, to curse his name and his existence. The urge bubbled in your chest. However, when you laid your eyes upon him, it all died on your tongue. What use had screaming gotten you thus far. Thus, you dipped your chin once again.

You closed your eyes and listened as he passed through the door. Listened as he placed the tray on the table that had held pliers, daggers and whips in the prior hours. You felt his shadows snake and slither over your aching body. They seemed to bite and nip at each of your injuries. You twitched at their barrage, it felt like tiny needles poking at your mangled body. Even so, you would not raise your head. As silent as a mouse, Azriel moved to stand before you. His shiny boots were all you could see. A groan erupted from you when he grabbed your cheeks and forced your head upright. His amber eyes burned with hatred, though they wandered all over your faced. Lingered on the swelling on your left eye that would soon become too large for you to open and close.

"Hunger strike, really?" He questioned unimpressed, squeezing your cheeks so hard that the cuts inside your mouth reopened and dribbled out of your lips onto his gloved hand.

You stared through him, forcing your mind out of that dingy cell and back to your peaceful home. If you thought hard enough, you could hear the flowing Sidra over the noise of your own agony. If you thought hard enough, you could smell the breads you used to make more than the smell of your blood. If you thought hard enough, you could transport yourself to a reality where this wasn't happening.

A harsh slap reeled you back into the dungeon. Stars danced across your vision. The lack of food and water made that slap feel like a punch. When they cleared, you gazed upon the cruel beauty of Azriel Shadowsinger. It seemed like eons ago that this male set butterflies afloat in your stomach. Now all he did was set led weighing on your stomach. "Keep your eyes on me." You hated the way you obeyed. You were terrified of the horrors Azriel could release unto you. It was no secret to anyone in Prythian the creativity he possessed in the arts of torture. He raised a cup of water to your lips. No. You jerked back, clenching your teeth together. He struggled with you, holding the back of your head. Shaking your head, you dodged his attempt to hydrate you by any means necessary. His fingers curled around your blood-matted hair, and he yanked with all his might. You shrieked at the pain and Azriel used the excuse to pour the water in. You choked and sputtered until you expelled as much of it as you could.

"Fuck you!" You coughed out, your throat raw and breaths heaving.

An impatient snarl passed through Azriel's lips. He walked back to the small table to where the tray rested. You watched this time, and saw that the tray consisted of three jugs and some rags, along with the cup in his hand. One of the jugs slammed back onto the table, its contents spilling over the edged. "Let's try this again, agent," Azriel spoke steady. "You will drink and then you will eat. You will not get out of this the easy way. Is that clear?" His tone promised violence.

"No," You voice was low but defiant.

A humoured chuckle escaped the Spymaster as he returned to your front. "I was not requesting," Was all he said before he grabbed your head again and attempted to force the water down your neck. You thrashed and shook, though a couple drops managed their way past your protests. You detested that the cool water felt nice on your raw throat. The struggle continued until the remanets of the glass dribbled down the rags that covered your battered body.

Wordlessly, Azriel returned the table again. This time, he abandoned his cup and picked up the jug. And a rag. "I gave you two chances to drink properly," He began and immersed the rag into the jug. Your heart began to race like it had many times over the last while. Taking the rag out of the water, Azriel held it over your face. His hand slid to the back of your head and held your hair so tight that you couldn't move an inch. Before you had a chance to take a breath, Azriel began to pour the water slowly over the rag. You tried to gasp, though the water made you splutter and choke. Your mind went wild with panic, your chest heaving in attempt to draw in enough air. Trying to scream only resulted in weak groans and more choking. "This will go on for as long as you wish to protest," Azriel began. "I will have the water topped up regularly. You will not know more than a moments peace until you either confess what you have done or until you have decided to eat and drink." Dread swirled in your guts. You had enacted this very torture on a male before, it really could go on for hours. For as long as was necessary.

"I-I-" You tried to choke out. The water halted for a moment. "I don't know what I must confess! Azriel please-!"

"Don't. You. Dare!" Azriel roared. You body trembled and your head pounded from his grip on your hair. "Cut the shit!"

For the first time since you had been brought here, a loud sob ripped through your throat. You had screamed and wailed from the torture before, but you hadn't outright cried like this. Your pride had prevented it. Now, you couldn't control the sobs that shook your body. It had seemed to pause Azriel for the moment, for he did not move or speak. He just let you cry. Your eyes burned from the tears and your tears burned the gashes on your face. Your heart weighed heavy in your body, hopelessness withered your soul. Your jaw clenched as you heaved. "This is some sick joke," You whispered to yourself. "Please just tell me if it's a joke, I'll forgive everyone I promise."

"This is no joke," Azriel spoke softly. Softly like one would speak to a lover. You wished that were the case. But instead, the water began to trickle over your face again.

***

It had been a few days since Azriel had returned to Velaris. Your silence troubled him greatly. He must've waterboarded you for at least five hours, only stopping when you had passed out from hyperventilation. Troubled, yet impressed. He had never known another target to last that long. They either cracked, confessed or passed out much earlier. Azriel chalked it up to your hard upbringing. You had only revealed bits and pieces, more being divulged the longer he knew you... if those stories were even the truth anymore. Though you were beginning to crack, that much was certain. It had been about three weeks since Azriel and Cassian had dragged you into those dungeons. His spies reported the actions they took in order to extract the information from you. Some of it would make even the toughest males cringe. As much as Azriel loathed you for what you had done, the descriptions of your torture and the results of which he had seen decorated on your body was a tough pill for him to swallow. Especially when it stretched on so long with no result. Was all the pain and suffering worth it when it yielded nothing? Whatever information you possessed must be worth such a fate.

A knock on Azriel's door pulled him from his depressing stream of thoughts. He called for his visitor to enter and lifted his head from the paper on his desk, it was not like he was really reading it anyway. Rhys walked through the door and sat on a chair in front of his Spymaster. It seemed funny for his High Lord to be before him rather than the other way around. "What is it, brother?" Azriel questioned. Rhysand had been disappointed when it was revealed that one of Azriel's more trusted spies had turned traitor, or been a traitor all along. Especially when it had gone unnoticed by the Shadowsinger himself, only to be unveiled by said Shadowsinger's second in command. Rhysand had held his tongue then, seeing how blindsided and angered Azriel had been. He wasn't completely sure, but Rhysand suspected it could have had something to do with some feelings developing between his brother and the traitor.

"How has it been coming along? Do we have any idea how much intel has been passed onto Beron?" Rhysand asked carefully. It was a silly question really, Azriel would've come to him straight away with that kind of information. He just wanted to check on his brother.

With a grimace, Azriel answered. "She has been a tough one to crack. Not even a sliver of information that I can make anything of."

"Perhaps it is time for a change of strategy?" Rhysand suggested.

Azriel's eyes met his brother's. He knew what he was suggesting, the power swirling throughout his High Lord's gaze could extract the truth in a matter of moments. But the idea sickened Azriel. Not only because he knew it turned Rhys' stomach to do so, but also because he wanted to avoid that end for you if at all possible. It confused the Illyrian really. On one hand, he wanted to rip you to shreds for betraying his trust. On the other, he wished he could go back in time and relive those peaceful moments of your friendship and his blooming feelings for you. Azriel clenched and unclenched his jaw. "That is our last resort, brother. I wish to try one more thing, if that does not work, then..."

Rhysand dipped his chin. "Of course, Az." He would probe Azriel later for his true thoughts. The shadows twirled around Azriel in a frenzy. They were typically a good indicator of when was a good time to talk to him.

***

You had been lowered to the ground, your ankles remained chained. Lying on the cold damp floor, tears dripped steadily down your cheeks. You did not sob and you tried to stop the flow, but it did not halt. Maybe you were going mad because the tears did not reflect the emptiness you felt eating a hole into your soul. It was horrifying yet comforting. You did not feel like the host of your own body, you felt like an outsider. Your assailants stabbed and whipped, you screamed and groaned. Yet you felt nothing on the inside. You did not beg or plead. You no longer protested when they forced food and water down your neck. You did nothing. There was nothing left in you. The lack of reaction had gained you no mercy. Large, deep gashes scored your arms. So lethal that the healer had advised that you be lowered, or else the wounds would stretch and you would bleed to death. Of course you could not die yet. The news must have made it to the boss because he stood before your cell for the second time since you arrived. You expected your heart to race, for fear to rattle your bones once again. Yet you remained still. Unbothered. They truly had broken you beyond repair. In walked Azriel. Your eyes followed each of his movements. His slithering companions remained by his side, as though they were on a leash.

"What have they done to you?" Azriel's voice was so soft as he hunched down before you. He reached out with an un-gloved hand to take your own. Red-stained bandaging covered two gaps where fingers had been. The gorsian shackles had been doing their job, along with the drops of faebane in your water. The healing was slow... but still healing. Was this what it was like for the humans?

You remained mute, still staring at your former friend. He met your eyes once again, not holding back his troubled face. If Azriel was being honest with himself, your silence was jarring. That look on your face was scary. You were slipping away before him, before the job was done. He replaced his grip on your mangled hand to wipe the tears from your cheek. You did not so much as flinch. Instead, your eyes closed. This was the only soft touch you had received in what felt like forever, and with your end drawing near you would enjoy it. Even if the one that would order your execution was providing you with that warmth. For a moment, you slipped into a reality stars away. A reality in which you were lying beside this male, his hand not wiping tears but caressing gently. A world where you could open your eyes and see Azriel's loving expression. Not this world.

"Let's try this a different way, sweetness." The nickname startled you. It had been a joke between you and him before all this. He had teased you for the amount of sugar in your tea. "Can you sit up for me?" Azriel spoke to you like he had before this nightmare began. You shook your head. It was only now that Azriel realised that your hands were clutching your stomach... no guarding it. He lifted the rag-like shirt that covered your top-half. Another inscription had been cut there. No, burned there. The spymaster's own hands twitched at the sight. For how depraved he was, he had never been depraved enough to enact this specific torture on anyone.

"It means snake," Your voice cracked. Raw from both disuse and screaming, Azriel was sure. "Alyia promised for every day I do not reveal my treachery, she will brand me with names through different means. You would be proud of her," You chuckled. The chuckle soon turned into a mixture of groans and coughs that spattered blood into your hand.

"I am not proud of this." It was the truth. As much as it was necessary at times, Azriel did not delight in torture. Much less yours. "Why are you keeping the information then? Surely you do not wish for this to continue."

Another laugh filled the room, the tears still streaming from you. The laugh turned to a cackle this time, loud and crazed. It lasted a few moments and all Azriel could do was watch. He had seen this many times before. The emotions of a tortured soul were not to be understood. He waited until your giggles died down. When they died, your arm wiped the tears. "You must think me stronger than I really am! I would've confessed long ago if I was a traitor. I've even thought of fabricating a confession so it would mean I would be put out of my misery but you would see through that and you'd keep me alive even longer." Your words struck a cord in Azriel. It was a strange thing for an old friend to wish for death at his hands, particularly when he knew your guilt to be fact. A fantastic actress you were, your performance was weighing greatly on Azriel's moral compass.

"How can you possibly think I will believe that?" He demanded incredulously. "I have seen the facts with my own eyes, through the work of someone I trust more than you."

That meant that Elijah, his second in command had either framed you or been fed false information so strong that it could not be refuted. "I don't think you will believe me," You replied dryly. "You have shown me that. So how about you tell me what you know."

Azriel rolled his eyes. He had trained you very well, your performance had tugged on even his heartstrings. "I know you are feeding intel about this court and my actions to Autumn," He growled and stood. He began to pace back and forth in front of you. "I was wondering why you kept requesting missions to the Autumn Court. I stupidly thought it was because you wished to help me with the unfolding business and please me. Because I believed you cared! That was my mistake. So now all that remains is to find out exactly what you have fed to Beron. So please, sweetness, tell me what you know and I will gladly put you out of your misery!"

Another humourless cackle erupted from you. "Let's be real, Azriel. You won't believe the truth even if it slapped you in the face. You have been tricked, but not by me. The truth will reveal itself one day, old friend. Whether it is in a few days or a few years, it will come out. Just know that when it does and I am dead, I will never forgive you. You have done wrong by me more than anyone else in my life."

With that, Azriel left your dungeon. This was his last attempt at extracting the truth. He had hoped that showing you kindness would give you enough hope that the truth would come out. He was wrong. So as he winnowed home, he mentally called for a meeting with Rhysand. Azriel's heart thumped painfully in his chest at your words. They resonated with him for some reason, the hard look in your eyes would be something he would never forget.

***

Elijah kept your hands bolted to each arm of the chair with two knives. They pierced all the way though your palm and at least a few inches into the wooden armrests. The pain that came with it was among some of the less severe you had become accustomed to. It was downright trivial compared the burning agony of the large screw being slowly twisted into your foot. Out of anyone, his punishments were the most painful. Elijah held a crazed look in his eye, a corner of his lips quirking while he inflicted his torment. It made sense to you now. For him, it was a sick delight. He enjoyed making you scream, making you beg for death. He wasn't trying to extract any information from you, he was merely toying with his spoils.

"You," A series of deep, laboured breaths ensued. "You're sick. I know what you've done."

The Cheshire-grin that slinked across Elijah's face was terrifying. "Oh how clever of you. Unfortunately for you, it is your word against my own. You are a pawn in a game that was created long before you let the Shadowsinger into your home for the first time. However, a happy coincidence it has been, girl. I could've never imagined the enjoyment I could get out of this. A dull affair turned an excess of excitement." You bowed your head. He was right. No one would believe you now, not that Azriel had revealed who had damned you. How convenient it would be for you to reveal Elijah's treachery so soon after your former boss had told you he was involved in your capture. Not to mention that whatever evidence the second in command had procured was enough to convince your boss and colleagues of your unwavering guilt. A terrible hybrid of a groan and scream ripped through your already raw throat as Elijah twisted the screw another full turn into your foot. It wouldn't be long now. Your end was in sight, Azriel's patience would not stretch much further. The only things you had left to fear was the method that would kill you and The Mother's grace to allow you back into her arms.

As if on cue, a group of footsteps echoed down the halls. You had come to recognise Azriel's. The other two you weren't sure of, but you assumed The General was in tow. The final pair were a mystery. Elijah spun on his heel, ready to greet his boss. In an instant, he was down on one knee, bowing so low he looked as though he could kiss the bloodstained ground. "High Lord, it is an honour." Your blood ran ice cold. Your head shot up and beheld the three Illyrians, each one just as petrifying as the other. Though, the High Lord's power blanketed the cell, seeping into every crack and corner. High Lord Rhysand stared right into your fear-filled eyes. There was whispers and rumours as to exactly what this male had done. He could turn your brain to mush and leave you living. He could rip your mind to shreds, give you the most agonising death with little effort. The horrors of his victims had never been far from your ears. The male's stare promised the same fate for you. It had you scrambling to ensure your own mental shields were intact, as though you could resist the might of the most powerful High Lord in history.

Rhysand called you by your full name, full of authority and reflecting the power that lurked behind his eyes. Raising your head, you looked anxiously at Azriel. You did everything to portray your fear and terror into that look. "Eyes on me." Rhysand bit. With a heart beating loud enough that everyone in the room could hear it, you met the eyes of your High Lord.

"My lord, please. This is a mistake," You begged one last time. One last chance at freedom. He would see the truth in your mind, but there would be nothing left of you to save.

"You have one final chance to reveal what you fed to Beron. Otherwise I will rip your mind apart until I find it myself," He promised viciously. You felt a razor-sharp claw make a long, uncomfortable pass over your mental shield.

You flickered your eyes to Elijah, who looked pale. This was it, your chance at justice. Even if you wouldn't be alive to witness it. Then you slid your gaze back to your old friend... your old love interest. Azriel scanned your body, holding on the knives in your hands and the screw in your foot. Cassian watched the exchange, though he had a harder time at hiding his expressions at the various horrors littering your body. "Remember what I told you," You spoke as you held the stare of Azriel. "I know nothing, High Lord. I have not fed any information to Beron or anyone from the Autumn Court."

Rhysand breathed a deep sigh when your eyes met once again. "Very well. May the Mother punish you justly for your sins." The feeling the followed was unlike anything you suffered before. You could not move, you could not scream. He was right there, in your mind. You could feel his essence cleaving your consciousness apart. Through each memory he watched, he destroyed it as he went. It felt like time had been slowed to a fraction of what it had been. The last few weeks of your torture felt inconsequential to these moments passing at a snail's pace. The blood that began to ooze from your nose, eyes and ears trickled slowly and took your mind with it. Everything you had ever been, would be and could've been was dribbling into a puddle in your lap.

You tried to push him out, tried to reinstate the shields and get him out. Give it up, his voice was a ripple of night. It was the voice of the High Lord, but also something more. Something demonic and beastly. It demanded you, and your mind conceded. The end was drawing near, you found yourself trying to remember your life and were met with nothingness. There was nothing left of you, only this pain and suffering. Why was this happening? You could not recall. Just let it end, you willed it. You repeated it like a mantra, begging whatever demon was inhabiting you to just kill you. The blood tickled your face as it now poured from you, but you could do nothing about it. Not as you heard ringing in your ears and your world fade to black.

Azriel watched in horror, having never witnessed this side of his brother's power in person. Dread weighed on him as your mouth hung open in silent horror, blood and drool pooling into your lap. Your fingers had curled and eyes clenched shut. Despite what you had done, Azriel would never wish this fate on his worst enemy. The image before him was something that even the most graphic horror novel could not depict. Azriel watched as the life drained from your body. Your hands relaxed first, then your expression relaxed and lastly, your upper body drooped and slumped over itself.. It was strange, you looked like you were sleeping peacefully despite the carnage you experienced. Rhysand's eyes focused once again and he quickly whipped around. Azriel jumped forward putting his hands on his brother's shoulders. "What's going on?" Cassian shouted.

"Where is he?!" Rhys bellowed, ripping from Azriel's grip.

"Who? Where's who?! Talk to me!" Azriel snapped.

"Elijah!" Both remaining brothers whirled around to where the spy was previously. An empty corner was all the remained.

Azriel's heckles raised, nothing was making sense. Cassian seemed to catch on partially. "Why do you want him?"

Rhysand looked solemnly at Azriel and Cassian. "It wasn't her, Elijah set her up."

Azriel froze, his heart pumped loudly in his ears. This couldn't be happening. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, his hands shook by his side. Carefully, he looked at where you were slumped in the chair. "No..." He barely whispered. Azriel's words seemed jumpstart Rhys and Cassian into action. Cassian ripped from the room, his feet stomping down the hall in pursuit of the real traitor.

Azriel approached you slowly, hoping there was some of you left to save. To save so he could repent. Tentatively and more gently than anyone had been with you in weeks, the Shadowsinger raised his fingers to your neck and waited. Waited for something, anything. "She's gone brother, I made sure of it," Rhysand stated, shame and regret thick in his tone. The Spymaster collapsed to his knees beside you, his mind replaying all the times you had begged for him to believe you. Replaying all the times his gut had told him there was something amiss. Sobs began to rack through his body, his heart had cleaved in two. In that moment, Azriel felt no better than his step brothers. An innocent female, an innocent and amazing female dead by torment he had ordered.

***

Azriel took charge of arranging your funeral himself. Guilt and shame had plagued him in the days since your death... no your murder. You laid on the pyre outside the home you had made for yourself. The Sidra rushed aggressively, as though it had been angered by your demise. The healers had cleaned your body as best they could, covered you with the finest silk Azriel could buy. But, he could still see the characters engraved on your skin. The holes in your hands where Elijah's knives had been were visible as they laid criss-crossed over your heart. Your cheekbones jut out in a sickly manner from your face. You looked clean, but nothing like the female Azriel had fallen in love with. He knew that now, that he had fallen in love with you. And he had destroyed you. A shell of the female you used to be laid dead on the pyre, all because of him. Azriel wished he could awake from this hell. Awake and see your face full and happy. Instead, he saw the eternal rest before him. Despite the peace on your face, all he could see was the image of your freshly dead body; mouth hung open with blood spilling from it, tears still trickling down your cheeks. With a flaming torch, Azriel set the pyre ablaze. He had attended this on his own, despite the protests of his family. He would attend this alone. Though Azriel was sure that the thought of him being the only attendee at the ceremony of your untimely demise would disgust you.

As your body burned, along with your most prized possessions, Azriel vowed to never forget what he had done to you, his friend and lost love. He would walk every day with the thought of you whispering in the back of his mind. For everyday he would remember what he did to you with the most crushing guilt, it would never account nor excuse the turmoil he put you through. Would never amount of the betrayal and injustice he unleashed unto you. Azriel Shadowsinger would never allow himself a moments peace again. Because you had never gotten yours. You had never even gotten so much of a chance at peace. Azriel knew it was a fitting punishment, he even smiled dryly at your burning body as he recalled your final words to him.

I will never forgive you. You have done wrong by me more than anyone else in my life.

I would appreciate any feedback that you have! Let me know what you think! :)

[the-fiction-witch]

Unfortunate Circumstance

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n Targaryen Rating - 12 Word Count - 875

Y/n reclined comfortably in her bed, the soft fabric of her nightie gently embracing her rounded baby bump. The room was adorned with delicate hues of red, casting a warm and inviting glow. Her long hair tumbled down her shoulders in gentle waves, framing her face as she focused on the intricate task at hand.

With a steady hand, she threaded her needle, the vibrant embroidery thread slipping between her fingers with ease. She was working on a small, soft blanket for her impending arrival, each stitch a labour of love filled with her hopes and dreams for the little one. The rhythmic motion of her needle dancing through the fabric was both calming and fulfilling, as she envisioned the joy the blanket would bring their baby.

Her tranquillity was suddenly interrupted when she heard the creaking of the door to her chamber. A spark of excitement coursed through her, only to be replaced by a jolt of surprise when the door slammed shut behind whoever had entered. The sharp sound echoed in the otherwise serene space, and she looked up, her heart racing, curious about who had arrived so unexpectedly.

Jacaerys marched inside the chamber, he pulled his belt off and tossed his sword onto the table. And began to pace the rug.

She blinked three or four times before she sheepishly spoke up. “Is everything alright, my darling?”

“Those Lowlives!” He yelled, “Walking our halls! Eating our food! Thinking they are equals with us!”

She nodded slowly as she realised his stress, “You are their prince, they know they are not equal to you Jacaerys.” she reassured,

“They are an affront to us!” He yelled, “They ride our family dragons, they sleep in our ancient castle, she plans to dress them in fine clothes and fly our house banner!” He yelled, “What… what is there left for us? What do we have to separate us… from the rabble?” his voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes,

Y/n paused in her work, as she turned her attention to Jacaerys. With a warm smile, she opened her arms wide, inviting him to come closer.

Jacaerys, still sniffling softly, slowly crawled onto the bed, his little movements deliberate as he nestled himself between her legs. He rested his head against her belly, seeking the comfort and warmth only his wife could provide.

Y/n's heart swelled with affection at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of safety and love. Her fingers found their way into his hair, gently combing through the soft strands as she stroked his head in a soothing rhythm. Each gentle caress was a silent promise of protection and warmth, a moment of solace in their shared world. “You are far more than your dragon, more than your castle, more than your clothes, and far more than whatever banner you fly my darling. You are a wonderful man, you are kind, sweet, caring, gentle, smart… handsome.” She told him,

Which made him laugh, “Thank you… But- but if these bastards can do all this… what separates me from them?”

“You are a Targaryen prince,”

“You know what I am…” he muttered,

“Regardless, your mother is Queen. You are her prince, regardless of your father.”

“I am a basard… I am no better then them.”

“You were raised here, in this life. Trained always to be the prince, to be king someday. And you will be.” she cooed, “You are no bastard, you are you’re mother’s first born and nothing will ever take that from you.”

“... Do you not feel fury? At the Dragon seeds?”

“...I am not happy.” She answered, “But… if a lowborn from Hull riding a dragon is what puts your mother on the throne she is owed. It is a pill I will swallow, for the greater good.”

“Can we trust them?”

“I suppose we must.” she nodded,

“How does it not repulse you? To know… you carry a bastard’s child?”

She scoffed, “I carry your child, my darling,” she cooed, “The child of a handsome dragon prince, that I adore so much.”

“I adore you too.” he whispered, “And I adore you, my sweet,” he cooed, kissing her bump,

“Humm, they adore you too.” she chuckled, “Can you say hello to your daddy?”

Both of them remained perfectly still, their hearts racing with anticipation as they held their breath, waiting for a sign. The room was filled with an almost palpable silence, broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing. Then, at last, a delightful flutter from within broke the tension—the little baby kicked. They exchanged glances, eyes wide with awe, feeling the tiny movement as a gentle reminder of the life growing inside.

“Awwww!” she cooed,

“Humm, hello my sweet.” he smiled as he rubbed his nose on her bump,

“I know you are unhappy with this Jacaerys, but… it is just an unfortunate circumstance.”

“I know…” he sighed, “Thank you Y/n. You are more help than you know.” he cooed,

“Thank you,”

“I promise, I will try to… complain less.” he sighed, “But if this is what must be done, to make you my queen, and this little one prince or princess of the realm… then I shall accept it.” he smiled as he leant up and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. 

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know You? Part 10

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason takes care of you.

Notes: I have seriously hyped up this chapter because I’m in love with it actually. It’s a very comforting moment after what our girl has just been through. She has one panic attack but it’s okay because Jason’s there. There is some semi-nudity but nothing sexual. This is very, very intimate(again not sexually though). Enjoy!!

Warnings: one Panic attack, semi-nudity

Masterlist

You pick at your hands, trying to scrap the blood from under your nails when your eyes catch movement, glancing up and dropping your gaze when you notice it’s a body bag. In a matter of minutes, you hear a familiar voice questioning several officers.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” You look up and spot Jason quickly following the commissioner towards you. For the first time in what feels like hours you stand up and take only a few steps forward before Jason is hugging you. He cradles the back of your neck avoiding your head. His other hand takes to gently sweeping up and down your back. A well of emotions exploded from your chest and your sobbing again, Jason’s shirt becoming wet with it. Despite the jacket and blanket on your shoulders, you’re suddenly aware of how cold you still feel as you press your face to the warm skin on Jason’s neck. If he thinks you feel like an ice cube, he doesn’t complain

He quietly coos at you, whispering soft calming words. You zone back out again, only focusing on Jason holding you as he slowly leads you to a car. The commissioner stops and talks to him for a moment and if you were more conscious you may have questioned it more.

“Be Careful. Red Hood was here, and she lived to talk about Penguin. News travels fast in Gotham. We don’t want bodies piling up again.” He gives Jason a meaningful nod before returning to police duties. Jason shakes his and continues to guide you to a car (a quick borrow from Bruce out of hidden garage in the area). Even when Jason was Robin, he always had the feeling that the commissioner knew everything about the family’s nightly activities and that for the sake of his own job never vocalized anything about it. Comments like these felt like they proved that point.

Jason takes his time leading you, mindful of icey patches. Your absent stare from earlier was still present and it worried him. He had attempted to wipe as much blood off of you with the sparse medical supplies he had in his belt. Gauze were used to soak up the blood and wipe you clean, but he didn’t want to hurt you by wiping too hard. Streaks of now dried blood remained on your arms, but your face seemed clearer and your nose was no longer bleeding. He was sure you were very uncomfortable.

 He opened the passenger door and helped you slide into the seat. You tense as you sit back, and he can only assume you’re a little more hurt than the mild concussion he was told about. You sit passively in the seat, making no move to do your seatbelt. He squats down and slowly reaches for the seatbelt, pulling it over your lap. However, your hands stop him. You look up to meet his eyes. There’s a pleading look there but he’s unsure what about. He glances back down at your hands and follows the line to your wrist. He can see it now. You had been tied up.  Your wrist, redder than the other exposed parts of your skin. He had thought it was more blood. Now a slow bruising started to show on your skin, darkening slowly. He understands the pleading look and doesn’t fight you over the seatbelt, letting it slide back into place.

“You going to get me in trouble, sweetheart. The cops are right there.” He says softly and he feels like his chest is going to crack open when you give him a weak smile. He stands and your hand latches onto his. He remembers the panicked look you had given Red Hood when he said he had to leave. He has never wanted to carve his heart out and give it someone more than he did in that moment. He knew you had abandonment issues. Way back when this thing you two have had started, you thought he wasn’t going to come back, and he’s seen you have same thought process a few different times. It hurt that he had to be part of the problem. Red Hood had to be part of the problem. Jason, however, was not going to let you feel like that.

“I’m just going to walk around to the driver’s side. You can watch me through the windows.” He offers and your hand slowly loosens up and settles in your lap. He closes your door and moves quickly around the car and into the driver’s seat. He starts the car and blasts the heat. He hadn’t missed how cold your face was pressed against his neck and your hands were the same when you grabbed him. It worried him, like everything in the past four hours had. He gently slides his hand around your nearest hand, squeezing at your frozen fingers and trying to get you to look at him. Your head moves sluggishly but you finally meet his eyes. Your own are bloodshot but you look nearly cried out and on the brink of a well-deserved nap.

“I need to know where you live so I can take you home.” He says, gently massaging your hand. You stare at him but still have consciousness for the barest of warmth to flutter across your cheeks. You had hoped that maybe you would move before you brought Jason to your home. Then you wouldn’t have to admit that he had been parking in front of your building, and you had lied about living further down. You don’t have the energy to be embarrassed now.

“It’s where you park.” You murmur looking away from him. You focus on his hand holding yours. Warm, sturdy, present. He was here. He was real. He was taking care of you. He doesn’t question what you mean, briefly letting go of your hand to put the car in drive before holding your hand again. You easily lay your head against his upper arm, mindful of your twinging back. The car is quiet as he drives, and your eyes flutter closed for what feels like a second before he’s gently nudging you. He’s parked in the same spot he always does, and a moment of awareness crosses your mind that you’re in a car not on a bike. He’s out the door and you’re cold again. But he’s back at your side in seconds, helping you out of the car and up the steps into the apartment building. He guides you to the elevator and you finally sense hesitancy in his movements. You press the 6 for him and settle your weight against his side, sleepiness calling to you again. The elevator dings and it takes him pressing a hand to your lower back for you to start moving again.

 You walk dazed and come to stand at your door, staring at the knob. You didn’t have your keys. They were in your bag, and you had lost that. Jason’s hand comes into your line of vision along with your keys. He tries a couple on the chain before the one for your door meets the lock. You only stare in confusion. He opens the door and must sense your hesitancy.

“They found your bag and keys at the warehouse.” He states before his hand is on your elbow, gently pulling you forward. He closes the door and moves around you pulling the shock blanket and leather jacket from your shoulders and helping you take off your shoes. You shiver and he’s quick to rub at your arms.

“We should get you clean.” Your face scrunches because all you want to do is sleep. His thumb gently rubs at your cheek. “Trust me. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.” He tugs you again, more into your apartment and down the hallway towards your bedroom and bathroom. He turns on the light for the first door and leads you to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. He kneels in front of you with a hand on your knee.

“You want a bath or a shower?” He asks. You stare at him blankly, the terrors of the night starting to creep in your mind. You choose to focus on him, his features, his touch. Your hand comes up and you press the tips of your fingers against the scar on his cheek, following the line of it. He breathes in a strange way that you’ve never heard from him.

“How ‘bout a bath? I don’t think you could stand long enough for a shower.” You nod at his thought process, still focused on his skin. His hand comes up to hold at your wrist, pulling your hand away to rest in your lap again. He stands to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. Soon the room begins to feel warm and humid.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Your hand shoots out to grasp at his tightly despite your weakened state. He doesn’t flinch, just kneels back down in front of you.

“What is it?” He speaks softly, with all the concern in the world and it eats at your chest. You don’t want to be alone; you need someone present.

“Please,” your voice wobbles and you hate it, “don’t leave.”

“I’m going to be just outside the door. I want to give you some privacy.” He says, pushing at your hair. You don’t listen because all you can think about is how Red Hood left you out on the street and you don’t think you could deal with that heartache right now. You stare at him with all the energy you have, hoping he’ll understand. He concedes with a sigh.

“I’ll close my eyes.” He says and your blank stare returns because you’re not cognitive enough to understand what he’s saying. “To undress.” he adds, glancing at the water filled tub. You follow his line of sight, remembering you were in this room for a purpose. You lift your arms slightly and wince. The ache in your back and head doubling at the movement. You hadn’t reached for your shirt, so Jason hadn’t closed his eyes.

“Do you want help?” he asked carefully. Your eyes meet his and you search, worried you’d find that same lustful gaze that the other man had. Jason’s eyes held no such malice. There was no spark of an opportunity to get an eyeful. He just looked concerned. The same kind Jason you’ve been slowly falling for. You nod slowly, with a little shame that you can’t undress yourself.

Jasons hands move slow. They hover over your thighs before settling on your hips. His warm hands skim under the hem of your top and settle against the skin above the waistband of your pants. You watch him and he watches you. You keep waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for a glimmer of want in his eyes. It never comes.

“Is this okay?” he asks and your heart aches from the gentle way he speaks and holds you. You nod, swallowing harshly around the knot in your throat. He guides one side of the shirt up, mindfully keeping his hand off of your skin. He helps you pull your arm out of the shirt, apologizing when you wince. He repeats the process on the other side and finally slides the shirt over your head. You’re wearing a ratty, old bra and feel a little embarrassed for a moment but Jason’s eyes never drift from your face. His hand still holds one of yours. He stands and tugs you with him.

“Think you can do your pants?” he asks.

Your voice shakes as you respond, “yea.” You drop your eyes to the buttons on your jeans. You tug them down your hips, keeping your underwear in place. You feel the heat of his hovering hand next to your arm. As you push the pants to your knees you start to lose your balance, blood rushing to your head from being momentarily upside down. Jason’s quick to steady you, like always. You stand back up. He doesn’t say anything as you blink away the dizziness. You think you should feel ashamed that you can’t take care of yourself at the moment but Jason’s face holds no judgement. You want to cry again from the tender care in his eyes.

“Will you?” you ask quietly. He nods and kneels back down. Despite where his face would meet if he looked forward, he keeps his head ducked respectfully. Eyes on your pants he tugs them past your knees and to your ankles. He taps one of your knees and you press your hands to his shoulders, not wanting to lose balance, as you lift your leg. He repeats the process on the other leg and your jeans join your shirt on the corner of the bathroom. He gives your calf a tender squeeze before he’s standing again, eyes on your face.

“Okay?” he asks

“Yea” your answer is weak, and it has nothing to do with the events prior to the apartment. His ever-gentle hands help you into the tub. You hiss slightly from the heat of the water, body still fairly cold. You sit down and pull your knees to your chest. You rest your cheek against your knee as you watch him ruffle through your cabinets. You feel weepy again, out of gratitude instead of fear, as he comes back with a wash clothe and the cup you use to rinse after you brush your teeth. He settles them on the edge of the tub.

“You should lay back. The heat might help with your back a little bit.” He says as he sits criss cross next to the tub. You nod and slowly tip back, the heat slowly creeping up your back does feel nice. His hand is suddenly at the base of your skull, and you don’t understand why until you rest against his hand and the tub itself. A tickling of pain shoots through your head no doubt dampened by the cushion of his hand. You had a concussion. At least someone remembered. Your eyes slide shut, and you will your body to relax in the heat for a minute.

After a few minutes Jason begins to worry that you had fallen asleep, in the tub of all places. If this had been literally any other situation, he would be losing his mind. You were practically naked in a tub of water. Any other guy would be taking advantage of eyeing you up and he would be too, in a very, very different instance. But he would never do that to you, especially after the night you had. He watches your face and even though the rest of your body seems to have relaxed in the water, your features twitch. Laying in the tub against his hand probably was not the most comfortable position for your injuries. He rubs at your hair where his fingers rest.

“Feeling any better?” He asks you to which you respond in kind with a nod. He is a little worried that he can only get nods and short answers from you but he’s sure you’re exhausted.

“We should get you clean and into your much more comfortable bed.” Your eyes flutter open as he presses you up. Your hand wraps around his other arm that was resting on the edge of the tub as you lift yourself. You curl back in yourself, knees dragged up again. He eyes all the bottles in your shower. He’d rather get what remained of the blood off of you and call it a night, but you had blood in your hair too and a simple rinse wasn’t going to do the job. He finally finds a shampoo bottle. He picks up the cup he found on the counter and scoops up a cup full of water and dumps it on the back of your head. Your neck straightens as you turn to look at him. He can’t read your expression, and it drives him crazy. The entire night you’ve had a blank face, like you don’t have the energy to emote.

“I’m gonna wash your hair, okay?” You stare at him a little longer before turning your head forward and tipping it back. He takes it as your agreement, scoops up some more water and dumps it around the hair faming your face. He squirts a very generous amount of shampoo in his palm. Your lip quirks as you watch him from the corner of your eye. He’ll take it as a win even though he doesn’t know what’s amused you. You turn your head so you’re facing the wall, and he has clear access to the back of your head. He rubs the shampoo in a lather and starts to gently run it through your scalp. He takes his time at the top, working down. Your shoulders tense as his fingers circle near the bump on the back of your head. He works around it and then rubs the shampoo into the lengths of your hair. He hears you sniffle quietly but doesn’t question it. He takes his cup and gently rinses the soap, gently turning your head this way and that way, careful not to get soap on your face. He spots a body wash and soaks the washcloth he had found before rubbing that.

 You watch him with sleepy eyes as he turns your face towards him and rubs gently with the corner of the rag.  For a moment your mind flashes to Red Hood with whatever material he was using to get rid of the blood that had been harsh against your skin. You push the thought aside once again focusing on Jason. His face concentrated. He was handsome, rugged and regal looking all at once. The rag is settled on your knee once he seems pleased with the soap on your face. His hand dunks in the water and then he’s gently caressing your face. Your eyes shut as he wipes at your forehead and down your face, carful touches at your eyes and brushes at your neck.

He pulls your arm from where you hold your leg, and the rag is off your knee. He moves it up and down your arm, starting at your shoulder. You watch as the previously dried blood wipes off easily. He soaked you like a dirty pan. The thought makes a quiet giggle start in you. Jason gives you a strange look and then you can’t stop. You erupt in heavily laughter and tears spring up in yours. It only takes a few seconds but laugh changes to gasped breaths, a harsh weight on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks again but you’re barely conscious of it because you can’t breathe.

You barely register a harsh squeeze on your knee before there are hands on your face. Thumbs rub at the skin on your cheek, and you can barely make out the blob that is Jason through your blurry vision. You try to focus on him. Your hand wraps around one of his wrists and your nails dig into his pulse point as you try to ground yourself. His voice filters into your ears.

“Breathe, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta breathe. Come on.” His free hand grabs your own and presses your flat palm to his chest. You can feel his heart beating and his chest moves as he breathes. You try to copy him with a stuttering gasp. You slowly become conscious of your surroundings again. His thumb on your cheek. The water you sit in slowly turning warm instead of hot. The hum of the bathroom fan. Your breathing slows but your grip on his wrist remains firm.

“There you go, atta girl. Just keep breathing” You lean against Jason’s hand and close your eyes focusing on his breath and your own. If you thought, you were exhausted before you were wrong.

You desperately need sleep Jason decides. He thinks that’s why you had the panic attack in the first place, exhaustion and stress over taking your sense. He coaxes you to release the grip you have on his wrist so he can clean that arm. You keep a grasp on his shirt though. He rinses you off as quick as he can. He does a once over to make sure you’re as clean as he could get you at the moment. Your wrists have bruised up and there were scraps on your knuckles. Some minor first aid would be smart, but it would have to wait til morning. He pries your hand from his shirt and holds it in his as he reaches back and tugs a towel from its rod. He pulls the plug from the drain and pulls you stand. You’re weak and leaning on him as he helps you step out of the tub. The front of his shirt soaked from where you lay. You shiver and he wraps the towel around you. He gives you a harsher than necessary rub but he’s trying to keep you awake long enough to change into dry underwear and warm pajamas.

He guides you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and sits you down on your bed. It’s different than the last time he had been in there as Red Hood. No messy piles of clothes, only the cleanliness he was use too. He picks though your drawers and pulls out some fuzzy matching pajamas and he tries not stare at your underwear draw too long. He sets the clothes next to you. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep sitting up, your eyes closed. He taps at your shoulder and your eyes open, half-lidded.

“Clothes” he offers. You nod but make no move. He remembers your struggle with your shirt. He slips the pajama top over your head as you stare at him. He pulls your hair from where it’s tucked. He pauses before he tries for your arms. You still had a wet bra on. He couldn’t let you sleep in that.

“You need take your bra off.” He tries to be delicate but there’s no way around it. You blink at him. He stares back. Theres a pause before your arm bends back awkwardly and you wince. Jason face scrunched in confusion. You stop your movement and stare at him.

“I can’t” He understands now. What idiot put the bra clasp in the back he didn’t know. He climbs on the bed behind you. He lifts the back of your shirt slightly and stares at the clasp. Jason would hate to admit it out loud, especially to you considering whatever your relationship was, but he had never taken bra off of a girl. This was the first time he was up close and personal to one and he wishes it was under different circumstances. He leans to look closer at it and pulls it off your skin. He folds it slightly and sees the hooks. After a minute he finally gets it undone and you easily slip it off of your shoulders. He pulls the shirt down and pulls your arms through the sleeves, careful not to touch any unnecessary skin.

He stands in front of you again. You still have that dazed, sleepy look in your eye but you still have the towel settled around your hips. He sighs

“Sweetheart, I can’t help you with this one.” You squint at him. He glances at the towel, and you follow his line of site. You nod in understanding. You pat at the bed until you find the pair of clean underwear. You pause before moving the towel and look at him, waiting. He gets the message, turning around, closing his eye and covering them with his hand for good measure. He hears you shuffle around the bed, no doubt sitting to change your bottoms instead of standing.

“Okay” you say, sounding out of breath and exhausted. When he turns around, you’re laid back on your bed, legs dangling over the edge and eyes closed. Your undergarments are nowhere in sight so he can only assume you threw them somewhere.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. Let’s get you under the covers.” He says. Your face scrunches like you’re going to whine about it, but you let him gently man handles you up and under the covers of your bed. By the time he has you tucked in your fluttering between awake and asleep, eyelids staying closed longer than open. His hand presses at your face tenderly and then the warmth of it is gone. Your eyes open to see him drifting to the door.

“Wait,” you call out weakly. He pauses, turning back towards you, you can see a fond look cross his face while he waits for you to speak. “Stay, please” you scoot over in your queen-sized bed. It was large enough you could span out eagle style, but you get the feeling it may be too small for Jason. You just didn’t want to be alone. He concedes without complaint, laying on top of the covers beside you. You turn on your side, curling in on yourself and against him. Your hand pops out from under the covers and curls around his forearm, his own mimics you. You close your eyes and carefully press your face against his arm.

“Thank you” you murmur, already drifting in unconsciousness. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him squeeze your arm before you’re completely out.

Additional note: Yea so I love him. I hope the comfort lives up to what guys wanted after the last chapter. Also, I would like to apologize, I told a bunch of people it would be out Saturday, and I am posting it Sunday morning. I had COVID all of this last week, stuck in my apartment by myself. So obviously the days don’t exist. Anyways sorry about that. Also the amount of times I had to walk away because I felt like I was witnessing someone else's private moment was insane. Thank you for reading and for loving on this series.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby 

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire us • l.n ❞ iii

part two - part four

➪ life changed after you decided to go through it as a single woman, offering your daughter the best life she deserves, focusing on work, friends and family but damn, that guy.

➪ co-parenting, dead-beat fathers and curious friends.

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles (platonic) x lando

➪ my babies are back and they're lying their asses off <3

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, manon_roux and 478,963 others

y/nusername obsessed actually.

tagged: manon_roux, alicedidier, charles_leclerc

view all 1,425 comments

hamilt44n ma'am how many more babies are you going to steal from your friends? 😭

charlesgirlies so true bestie I'm obsessed with Leo leclerc as well!

↳ charlesgirlies and the other dog, don't know who he is but I love him as well ❤️

bobnorriz oooh who got you those chocolates huh? 👀

pierregasss time to have your own babies again!

↳ lanlan yes!!!! Zoey would make such a good sister!

norry4 first if all its zoë and not Zoey and second of all, stop telling y/n she should get another kid..it's weird

bananacharles obsessed with Charles as well?

estiebestieocon baby number two when? 👀

manon_roux so that's where my son went..

↳ y/nusername *our son

milliexoxo little Noah belongs to us all 💙

alicedidier all our kids belong to you all apparently

y/nusername yeah 🥰

leolec16 leoooooooo 🥰

schumimick charles gave zoe a baby brother now its your turn 😍

↳ yukisan girl stfu maybe she doesn't want to???

norrizz some of y'all so rude! If you were even the slightest bit interested in y/n like you claim, you'd know having kids is difficult and having zoë wasn't something that just happened..

↳ norry4 this!!

charliecharles I didn't even know this...how do you know?

norrizz go watch zoë's 2nd bday vlog

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

you are giving this man way too many chances

y/nusername

he showed up sober

manon_roux

This man has problems

y/nusername

Zoë still likes her grandpa

manon_roux

this man is not grandpa worthy

he's never been a normal dad how does he know how to love a child in the first place?

are you alone with him or is charles with you?

y/nusername

yeah and joris so I'm good

we're almost leaving

manon_roux

where are you staying?

charles? Hotel?

y/nusername

what's got that to do with all this?

manon_roux

Just curious 😉

y/nusername

I've got a roof over my head, I'm fine.

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername posted to their story

milliexoxo replied to your story

milliexoxo

you might be able to fool some people but I know exactly where these pictures are taken, I've been in that man's house a lot 😂

you're at lando's place?

y/nusername

If you know, why'd you ask?

milliexoxo

So? 👀

y/nusername

he offered me a place to stay, he's not even in town so calm down

milliexoxo

Wow I'm just curious 😂

y/nusername

last time you were curious about my relationship with lando you threw a tantrum because i broke up with him..

milliexoxo

Can you stop using that against me? 😭

I was immature and dumb ass fuck and I've apologised for it

So you're not together together?

y/nusername

No millie, we're not

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 Miami, Florida

liked by charles_leclerc, milliexoxo and 465,577 others

y/nusername dora, boots & swiper.

tagged: milliexoxo

norrizz you're dora, zoë's boots so millie is swiper?

↳ y/nusername you know it! 🤗

milliexoxo always made the villain

norrizz millie you are a criminal, you're always the villain 😂

piastry mom's weekend with the kids <3

yukisan bunch of pretty ladies 🥰

manon_roux 🎶 backpack, backpack 🎶

↳ y/nusername 🎶 backpack, backpack 🎶

manon_roux 🕺 💃 🕺💃🕺💃🕺

julieeeexo when you're a mom, you turn up to kids shows 😂

y/nusername ask millie where she got the dress from

↳ hamilt44n where's millie's dress from?

y/nusername my closet

hamilt44n 😭 😭

milliexoxo best store in town tbh

landooooo just 3 bestie exploring the world together :)

sharl16 so we just gonna ignore the fact y/n, lando and zoë flew to miami together like a happy little family or what???

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @ireadthensuetheauthors @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @mehrmonga @gentlemonsterworld @destinyg237

Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream

Desire taglist; @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse

[vampsywrites]

II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 10 | Newborn Miracle

summary: the time has finally come, you and chris are going to become parents. Both of you are filled with joy and nervousness at the same time since this is a big step both of you have to make now and you’re ready more than ever for the adventures that lay ahead of you.

warnings: none, just child birth but besides it’s just chris becoming a proud father

authors note: this idea is so adorable I love the concept of babydad!chris and I need more people to write about it, so this is your sign to go do that rn 🫵 luv yall sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The sun had now began to rise, casting a golden color across the sky as I sat nervously in the passenger seat of Chris’s car, my hand clutching the hospital bag like it was a lifeline. Today was the day we had waited for, the day our lives would change forever. After months of preparing ourselves, endless conversations and debates about baby names and painting the nursery a soft shade of orange we were about to meet our little one. Chris was driving with a focused gaze I hadn’t seen before, his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

Every so often he would spare glances at me, his blue eyes shining with excitement. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, his voice being a mix of joy and disbelief at whats going to happen today. I turned to him, my heart racing as I speak. “I think so. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” I replied, feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The thought of actually becoming a parent was almost hard to believe . When we finally arrived at the hospital, the adrenaline kicked in.

We rushed through the automatic doors, our hearts pounding all together. The bright lights and the familiar smell of sanitary welcomed us as we checked in and were hushed towards the maternity section. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation but not just ours but from families around us, each with their own maternity story. After what felt like forever, it was time for me to be called in. Chris held my hand tightly as we walked together into the delivery room. My heart raced as I settled onto the hospital bed and feeling the cool sheets under me.

Nurses huddled around while preparing equipment for the delivery while Chris stood by my side, whispering soft words of motivation. Hours passed with the soft rhythm of contractions guiding us through the whole experience. Chris was never far from me and his presence felt like a warm blanket of comfort. He kept running his hands through my hair, his calming voice reminding me that we were in this together. “You’re doing amazing,” he softly whispered, his faith in me growing by the second. Finally, after what felt like an ongoing battle of will and strength, the moment arrived.

I could feel the overwhelming urge to push, and with each contraction, I used every ounce of strength I had left. In those intense moments, Chris’s eyes became my own. “You’ve got this, ma,” he reassured me, and I leaned into that support. With one final push and an intense surge of energy I didn’t know I had, we heard the most beautiful sound-our baby’s first ever cry. It was like music to our ears.

Suddenly, everything else faded away around us, the pain, the noise, the world outside. In that instant, all that mattered was the life that had just entered into our world. The doctor gently handed our baby to me, and my heart twisted with joy. I looked down and there they were, our little bundle of happiness in soft white blankets. Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he came closer with his eyes wide, filled with emotion all kinds of emotions. “Can I hold them?” he asked, his voice trembling with excitement. “Of course,” I smiled, shifting so he could take our baby.

Chris cradled our little one against his chest, and I watched as he radiated with pure love. He kissed their tiny forehead, an expression of shock shadowing his face. “You did it. You brought us this miracle,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion coming straight from the heart. Chris looked down at our baby as if they were the most precious treasure in the world. “I want to do skin-to-skin,” he said and I could see the excitement radiating from him. The nurses smiled approvingly and helped him gently remove his shirt, placing our baby against his bare chest.

The warmth of the moment hugged us as Chris’s skin touched our child’s delicate body. He looked at me, letting the little one into his now vulnerable heart. “Can you believe this?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Our little one squirmed, their little hand reaching for where Chris’s heartbeat lies. I could see a connection forming, a bond that would last a lifetime. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the two of the most important people in my life together.

It was a moment of pure beauty, one I will cherish forever. Chris looked at me and grinned, as his face radiated with joy. “We’re parents,” he said, still star struck, “and this is just the beginning.” In that room surrounded by the warmth of new beginnings, we held each other close, both over the moon and overwhelmed by all of it. Our family was here, and we were ready for the wonderful adventure ahead.

@hearts4werka

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[honeeybee3]

Of Lions and Dragons

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister! reader Summary: Aemond Targaryen, known for his stoic nature and unwavering focus on the realm, is softened by his Lannister wife’s pregnancy. He finds himself drawn to her like a moth to flame, discovering a love that transcends duty and politics. Tonight, he comes home to her, needing her more than he ever thought possible. __________________ The halls of the Red Keep were quiet at this hour, the cold stone walls illuminated by the flickering glow of torchlight. Aemond Targaryen moved silently through the castle, his long strides purposeful as he made his way to his chambers. He’d spent most of his day dealing with Council matters, overseeing reports on the growing tensions in the Riverlands, and managing the ever-increasing burden of his family’s legacy. It was exhausting work, and it left little time for anything else. But tonight, his thoughts were solely on her.

He slowed his pace as he approached their chambers, his chest tightening with anticipation. He always felt this way when he came home to her—the only place in the entire world where he could let his guard down. The only person who saw him as more than just the stern, one-eyed prince of House Targaryen.

His Lannister lioness. His wife. The mother of his child.

He pushed open the heavy door quietly, stepping inside. The sight that greeted him made his heart stutter. She was seated by the fire, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders, her delicate hands resting protectively over the gentle swell of her belly. She looked up as he entered, her amber eyes softening with warmth and affection.

“Aemond,” she murmured, a smile curving her lips. “You’re home.”

He let out a slow breath, as if he’d been holding it in all day. “I am.”

Moving closer, he took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. The simple touch, the feel of her skin against his, brought him a sense of calm he could never find anywhere else.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping to her belly. “And how is our little one?”

She chuckled, a sound like bells ringing on a summer’s morning. “We’re both fine, Aemond. A little tired, but that’s to be expected.”

He frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern. “You’ve been resting, haven’t you? You know what the Maester said—”

“Aemond,” she interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. “I’ve been resting. I promise. I’ve spent most of the day embroidering the new blankets for the baby and catching up on some reading.”

His frown eased, though he still looked at her with that intense, almost overprotective gaze. He knew he could be overbearing at times, but he couldn’t help it. Not when it came to her. Not when it came to their unborn child.

“You know I worry,” he muttered, lowering himself to sit beside her. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on her belly. His palm was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the fluttering movements beneath her skin.

She covered his hand with hers, intertwining their fingers over the place where their child rested. “I know. But you don’t need to. I’m strong, Aemond. Our child will be strong, too. A lion and a dragon.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Yes, a lion and a dragon. A formidable combination.”

They stayed like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence. Aemond’s gaze was focused entirely on her, taking in every detail—the soft curve of her cheek, the way her eyelashes brushed against her skin, the subtle swell of her belly that held their future.

“How is your family?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and careful. He always tread cautiously when speaking of House Lannister. The alliance between the lions and the dragons was still delicate, despite their marriage.

Her smile faltered just slightly, but she kept her voice even. “They are… as they always are. My brother wrote to me today. He sends his regards and wishes us well.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, a familiar flicker of tension passing through him. He’d never gotten along with her brothers—the proud lions of Casterly Rock. They’d made no secret of their skepticism when she’d been betrothed to him, questioning if a match with a second-born Targaryen prince was worthy of their sister. It was a slight Aemond hadn’t forgotten, and likely never would.

But he’d proven them wrong, hadn’t he? He was no mere second son. He was a warrior, a rider of the largest living dragon, and a key figure in the politics of Westeros. And more importantly, he was her husband. The father of her child.

“They will see, in time, what I already know,” she murmured softly, sensing the shift in his mood. “That you are the best man I could have ever chosen.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She spoke with such quiet conviction, her gaze unwavering. It still astonished him sometimes—how she could make him feel so understood, so accepted. So loved.

“I never deserved you,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

She shook her head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Don’t say that, Aemond. You are everything I could have hoped for. And more.”

He closed his eye, leaning into her touch. Her hand was soft and cool against his skin, grounding him in a way nothing else could. He turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against her palm.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. They were raw, unguarded, but he didn’t regret saying them. Not to her.

“You’ll never have to find out,” she whispered, shifting closer so she could rest her head against his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. Aemond could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath, the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat against his arm.

After a while, she shifted slightly, glancing up at him with a mischievous smile. “I have something for you.”

His brow arched in curiosity. “Oh?”

She nodded, reaching over to the small table beside her chair. From a delicate wooden box, she pulled out a small, embroidered blanket. The fabric was soft and fine, the stitching intricate and beautiful. A lion and a dragon were woven together in a dance of gold and red thread.

“It’s for the baby,” she explained, her smile widening as she watched his reaction. “I wanted something that would remind them of both their houses. Something that symbolizes both parts of their heritage.”

Aemond stared at the blanket, his throat tightening. The design was perfect—a blend of Targaryen and Lannister sigils, unified in a way that felt both powerful and meaningful. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the embroidery.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “You did this yourself?”

She nodded, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It took me a while, but I wanted it to be just right.”

“It’s more than just right,” he said softly, turning to look at her. There was a fierce, almost reverent look in his eye. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”

Her blush deepened, but she held his gaze, her eyes shining with love. “I wanted our child to know that they are loved and cherished by both of us. That they are a part of something bigger.”

Aemond swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “Thank you,” he finally whispered. “Thank you for… everything. For loving me. For giving me this family.”

She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, Aemond. For you. Always for you.”

His hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. It was a slow, tender meeting of lips—a silent promise that spoke of all the things he couldn’t put into words.

When they finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”

“And I love you,” she whispered back, her fingers threading through his hair. “Forever and always.”

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. Outside, the world was filled with turmoil and uncertainty, but here, in this small, quiet moment, they were at peace. It was a fleeting reprieve, a rare glimpse of happiness amidst the chaos of their lives.

But it was enough. Because no matter what happened, no matter what challenges they faced, they had each other. And together, they were stronger than any storm.

The lion and the dragon. Bound by love. Bound by fire.

And soon, they would welcome the next chapter of their story—a new life that would carry on their legacy. A child born of two great houses. A child who would be loved, cherished, and protected.

Aemond glanced down at her belly once more, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective love. He would do anything for her. For their child. For their family.

He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her belly. “I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispered softly. “And I promise—I will always be there for you. Just as I am for your mother.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked down at him, her heart overflowing with love. “I know you will, Aemond. I know you will.”

And in that moment, with his wife’s hand in his and the future cradled between them, Aemond Targaryen felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

And it was beautiful.

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍

Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 

He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 

As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 

Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  

Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 

Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.

For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 

This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.

That was until Zoe came into his life.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.

Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”

���Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”

Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 

“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 

“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”

“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.

Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.

They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.

Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.

“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”

“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.

“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.

She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”

“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.

“Something like that,” she chuckled.

There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 

But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.

Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”

She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too baby.”

Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 

Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.

“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.

“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”

“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.

“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.

“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”

“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”

Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”

His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.

There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 

All fucking night, that was for damn sure.

[404creep]

Parenthood: Simon vs Oliver (Age 13)

Hey gang! This is part of my Simon "Ghost" Riley X Civilian Cleaner series! This doesn't focus on the main couple that much, it mostly focuses on his relationship with her nephew and shows some sneak peaks of things that happen in our main couple's relationship! I'll be doing more blubs, oneshots, and drabbles in this series that shows how Simon is as a parent! I promise the next oneshot will focus on the main couple! This will be the last one posted for a few days, I'm currenty working on like three different oneshots at once! I'll try and post the next one on Wednesday! Birdie is not the name of Simon's girl, she is nameless. Birdie, Dove, Lovie, ect. are just pet names he calls her because it's really hard to write for a character without using some kind of place name, and I'm not a huge fan of using Y/N! Summary: Puberty has hit the Riley household which means sometimes feelings get hurt when unkind words come out. Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Series Masterlist

Oliver was starting to act out.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected. Thirteen hit like a freight train, one that came with a sharp tongue, slammed doors, and questions that sounded more like accusations. But still, Simon hadn’t expected it to hurt like this. And God, it did.

Birdie had always been better at discipline. She had the patience, the backbone, the tone that snapped even the worst tantrum into submission. Simon? He took a step back. Not out of laziness, but fear. Fear of becoming his father. Fear of raising his voice and watching it land like a slap. He could be strong for his family, but when it came to anger, Simon stayed quiet and let Birdie lead. He played support, offering steady hands when things got rough.

But this time felt different. Oliver wasn’t responding anymore. He used to listen. Used to fold under Birdie’s calm but firm presence. Now he was pushing boundaries like he was testing how far he could go. Like he was checking to see if their love for him had an edge he could break through.

Simon tried. God, he tried. Every parenting book told him to stay calm, stay open. Be the safe place, be willing to talk. So he did. Or tried to. But when Oliver threw his words like weapons, sometimes they hit harder than Simon wanted to admit.

Still, Simon could take it. He could swallow it down and offer grace. But there was one thing he would never stand for.

No one hurt his Bird. Not even one of their kids.

It all came to a head over dinner.

Oliver wanted to go out with friends. It was past curfew, and Birdie told him it wasn’t happening. That was all it took.

The teenager slammed his hands on the table hard enough to make glasses shake. His voice rose, sharp and angry, throwing every insult he could come up with. The younger kids froze, shrinking in on themselves. Baby Josh began to wail from his spot on his mother’s lap.

Then Oliver wrapped it all up with one final blow. A cruel little cherry on top of an already unbearable moment.

“You’re not even my real mom,” he bit out, voice full of resentment.

Simon felt his whole body go still.

Birdie’s eyes filled with tears, and that was it. That was the moment Simon knew he had to choose his next move carefully or risk breaking the fragile hold he had on his temper.

He set his silverware down with a solid clink.

The sound pulled every eye in the room to him.

Simon inhaled through his nose, slow and steady, then spoke through clenched teeth. “Go to your room.”

His voice was quiet but firm, no room for argument. Oliver flinched, almost like he’d been slapped. He glanced toward his mother, and when he saw the pain in her expression, something in him deflated. His shoulders hunched as he turned and walked away. His door clicked shut behind him down the hall.

Simon let a breath out slowly. He turned to the younger kids, gave them the softest smile he could manage.

“Keep eating,” he said gently, then looked to Liam, their second born. “Watch your siblings for a minute, alright?”

Liam nodded quickly.

Simon stood and gently took the baby from Birdie’s arms. He strapped him into his rocker in the living room and switched on the power, hoping the gentle movement would soothe him. Then went back to the kitchen and reached for his wife.

“Come on, love,” he whispered.

She didn’t say anything, just let him guide her to their bedroom. The door shut behind them, and then she broke.

Her sob hit Simon like a punch, and he caught her as she collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently.

“He’s just mad. Didn’t mean it. You know that,” Simon murmured into her hair. He kissed her temple, again and again, like he could press the pain away. “You’re his mother. Always.”

Her tears soon slowed to little hiccups. She sniffled against his chest, her voice small. “He still can’t go out with his friends.” She choked out.

A smile tugged at Simon’s lips. “After that little outburst? Kid’s not seeing his friends till he’s thirty if you want. Hell, snap your fingers and we’ll bundle him up and drop him off at a fire station.”

She let out a surprised laugh, sharp and sweet. That sound never failed to warm his chest.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes rimmed with red, but their shine was back. “He’s a little old for that, don’t you think?” Simon cupped her cheek, brushing away stray tears with his thumb. “He’s ours,” she said softly, placing her head against his chest again. “Even when he’s a little shithead.”

“Especially then.” Simon grumbled.

He kissed her again, long and slow.

She rested her head against him, arms wrapping around his waist. “I can’t believe he said that to me,” she mumbled, voice catching.

Simon held her close and swayed them gently. “He’s just mad, Lovie. Puberty has taken hold.”

She let out a snort. “Well, it needs to hurry up and fuck off.”

Simon laughed softly and kissed the top of her head again, then pulled back. “I’ll give him a bit to settle and then talk to him.”

She nodded, settling onto the bed with a heavy breath. “I’m gonna stay in here for a bit.”

He nodded and stepped out of the room, back into the quiet hum of the rest of the house.

The kitchen had settled into a softer kind of chaos. The little ones were picking at their food. Liam was trying to keep his youngest sister, Lizzy, distracted. Their third-born, Mary, a little girl with Birdie’s eyes, looked up when Simon entered the room with concern in her little eyes.

He ruffled her hair gently. “It’s alright, Lovie. Big brother’s just upset. Everything’s okay.”

She nodded, and quietly asked: “can we have ice cream, Daddy?” Her tiny fingers picked nervously at the tablecloth, like she was scared he’d get mad at her for asking.

Simon leaned down and kissed her head, then moved to kiss the others. “Of course you can.”

He picked Lizzy up from her high chair and passed ice cream bars to the older two. “I’m gonna put her in the playpen next to Joshy. Liam, can you keep an eye on them?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, already unwrapping his ice cream. “Mary and I’ll watch TV in the living room.”

Simon smiled at the 7 year old and reach over to ruffle his hair slightly, leading the children into the living room to get them set up.

—

Simon stood in the hallway, staring at Oliver’s closed door like it might open on its own and save him the trouble.

He’d already walked away twice.

First with the excuse that the baby needed rocking. Then because he had to rinse a plate that wasn’t even dirty. Now he had no excuses left. Just an empty hall and a heavy dose of anxiety at having to take the lead on something Birdie would usually handle.

He knocked. Soft, just two short raps.

A pause.

Then Oliver’s voice came through, muffled and flat. “What.”

Simon opened the door gently, just enough to peek inside. “Hey.”

Oliver was on the bed, curled up with his hoodie pulled over his head, earbuds dangling loose, music quietly bleeding out of them. He didn’t look up.

Simon stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

“Can I… sit?”

A shrug.

He hovered awkwardly for a second before pulling out the desk chair and sitting in it, turning it to face the bed.

“Look,” he started, already unsure. “I know… that was a rough dinner.”

Oliver didn’t move. Just kept his face buried in the crook of his arm against his pillow.

“I wanted to check on you,” Simon said. “See how you’re doing.”

Oliver shifted but didn’t sit up. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Silence.

Simon sighed, glancing down at the floor. “What you said to your mom hit hard.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Oliver muttered, voice muffled by fabric.

“I figured,” Simon said gently. “But it still hurt.”

Oliver finally sat up, pulling his hood back. His eyes were red, and he looked smaller than usual—like all the fight had gone out of him.

“She’s always been my mom,” he said, voice low. “I know that. I was just mad.”

Simon nodded. “It’s okay to be mad. It’s not okay to try to tear someone down because of it.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just… it came out.”

Simon didn’t respond right away. He leaned forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees.

“You were four when I met you,” he said after a moment. “Took me forever to get you to like me.”

Oliver blinked. “I liked you.”

“Yeah,” Simon smiled, briefly. “Could have fooled me.”

Oliver almost smiled, but it faded.

“I know I wasn’t there at the start,” Simon said, voice more uncertain now. “Birdie… she was already raising you. Already fighting for you. She told me everything early on. What your birth mom had been through. What it meant for her to step in.”

Simon paused, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to go on.

“But I knew, even back then, I wanted to be in it with you. I didn’t just want to marry your mom. I wanted you, too. You were part of the deal.”

Oliver looked down at his hands. “You didn’t have to adopt me.”

“No,” Simon said. “But I wanted to. When Liam was born, we didn’t want there to be this line between you and him. I didn’t want you to ever think you were less mine than he was.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “But that doesn’t mean I always get it right. I know I still feel like I’m… guessing, half the time. Trying not to step on toes.”

Oliver’s voice was smaller now. “I feel like I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t.”

“I made her cry.”

Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah. You did. But she’s still your mom. That won’t change.”

Oliver pressed his sleeves to his eyes. “Do you think she regrets taking me in?”

“No,” Simon said immediately. “Not even close.”

Oliver hesitated. “Sometimes I think… she could’ve had a better life. Without me.”

Simon shook his head. “Her life started when she took you home. That’s what she’d say.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

“I should apologize,” Oliver mumbled.

“You should,” Simon said. “But you don’t have to say everything at once. Just be real. Be honest.”

Oliver hesitated. “Will you come with me?”

Simon stood. “Yeah. Of course.”

They left the room together, walking slowly down the hallway. At the master bedroom door, Simon stopped and rested a hand lightly on Oliver’s shoulder.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

Oliver nodded and knocked.

A moment passed.

Then Birdie’s voice came through the door, soft but steady. “Come in.”

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Simon stayed in the hallway. Waiting. Listening.

“I’m sorry,” came Oliver’s voice bare and shaky.

A pause.

Then Birdie, quieter than before. “Come here, baby.”

Simon exhaled, long and low, and leaned back against the wall.

He wasn’t perfect at this. He never would be.

But he showed up. Every day. Every fight. Every messy, uncertain moment.

That had to count for something.

Author's Note: Been working on this bad boy for a few days! I know this doesn't focus on the main couple but I thought it would be fun to also show Simon's interactions with fatherhood and all that. Ngl I cried while I wrote his gang. May have been working through some daddy issues idk. I decided to name all the kids because it was just easier to do it that way! Liam was actually the second place choice when I did the pole for Oliver's name, so I decided to use it as their 2nd born's name! Simon just strikes me as the kinda guy that once's he's found a stable place to land he keeps making babies lol.

Kids ages in this: Oliver (13) Liam (7) Mary (6) Lizzy (4) Josh (6 months) Taglist: (Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future updates for this couple!) @teapartydreams @gimme1margarita @casualhel @feline-flame-fatale

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Wedding Guests

↳ Masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Pop Star! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Seb and she were making the wedding guest list, sitting on the stools next to the kitchen island, completely focused on the more-difficult-than-expected task. He was observing the seemingly endless list of names she was writing down.

Sebastian leaned closer, glancing at the list she was scribbling with a concentrated look. His fingers drummed lightly on the counter, the rhythmic tapping a silent sign of his patience—though the playful tone in his voice betrayed the calm of his demeanor.

“Babe, do I have to remind you that we agreed on a private, intimate wedding?” he teased, his eyes scanning the long list of names that seemed to go on forever. “You’ve invited half of the A-list, at this rate. Are you sure this is still ‘intimate’?”

She shot him a look—half-exasperated but amused—before dropping the pen. She may have gotten a little carried away, especially since she knew how much it meant to him to keep the wedding private. “Yeah, I may have to narrow it down a little, right?”

Sebastian chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Just a little. I mean, I love you, but I don't think we need a red carpet for our vows,” he teased, his smile widening as he glanced at the list again.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “I’m sorry, it’s just... I haven’t seen some of these people in years, and it feels like I’m supposed to invite them, you know?” She paused, her fingers brushing over the names she’d written down, some of them undeniably high-profile. “But I do want it to be about us.”

“I get it,” Sebastian said gently, his voice softening. He moved closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as he looked at her with understanding. “But we agreed—no media circus, no chaos. And that will become increasingly hard if we start inviting more A-list celebs, love. With you, it’s already enough.”

She nodded, biting her lip as she looked down at the list again. The names were important, but so was their special day, free of distractions. “Yeah,” she agreed, still pondering who to invite and who not to, “so just very close friends and family, right?”

He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. He saw the slight reluctance on her face. “You’re not bothered by it, are you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, a soft smile on her face as she knew how much he valued privacy. “Not at all, Seb,” she reassured him.

He smiled at her reassurance, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. “Good,” he said, smiling slightly. “Because I promise you, it will be the most wonderful day of our lives,” he added, bringing her hand to his lips to plant a gentle kiss.

Her smile widened at the gesture and his words. “It will.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3