#he has to - for once! - figure out who he is outside of his losses and grief and anger

[forgaeven1]

the reason gendry went to the north at all to fight for anyone was bc of arya. the reason gendry was eager to pledge his loyalty to jon snow as well was because of arya. because he thought arya was dead. because he wanted to avenge that, make amends perhaps, reconcile with how they parted; with what he said to her before he was taken away. he was, by all means, ready to die in the north, fighting the dead from this effort. arya was, and had been, his main driving force. surviving the long night would've been a shock to gendry; realising he can never reunite with the arya he's lost, even though she's alive and well right there, would be a bigger one.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, surprisingly i thinks there isn't any cursing or smut, maybe next time ;) just good old sad aegon

a/n: this is my first time ever writing for HoTD or GoT for that matter. please be kind to me. i tried to use appropriate wording for the time period. i'm somewhat successful but i have work ahead of me to become a pro.

i felt so enraged when alicent walked out on her grieving son to go fuck around with cole. what the fuck is your problem? i always gave her the benefit of the doubt but this episode just proves what a terrible mother she is. i figured the only person fit to comfort my baby boy aegon is someone raised by rhaenyras gentle heart.

lowkey want to make a throuple out of reader, aegon, and helaena. readers gonna be a little psychologist lol. she'd hold their hands and force them to kumbaya haha but obviously they'd be like this cant work without you. maybe they'll follow aegon the conqueror and have her as a second wife but idk would anyone be interested in that? i'm rambling. enjoy!

Helaena’s Turn

STAY WITH US

The cold stone of the Red Keep kept you company as you strode through its halls. The breeze of the night offered you comfort and aided your mind to forget the terrible events that have plagued the Keep.

And yet, despite your energies being depleted, you can't seem to find rest. Loss weighs you down and spirals you into a depth of overbearing thoughts, making sleep a mere idea.

The Red Keep, the place you once called home, has become your prison. For weeks, you were not allowed out of your chambers, and for a short time afterward, a guard followed you wherever you went.

It has all changed, though. The death of the King's son has diverted all of the guard's forces to find the culprit. The priority is to search for the monster that gruesomely and cruelly decapitated a child while he slept rather than to watch over a harmless Princess who is simply not on their side.

As a result, you're now free to roam the castle, granted there are eyes all around. You wouldn't be able to step foot outside the castle if you tried, and any suspicious activity would immediately be reported to the Hand of the King.

For an unknown reason, your feet guide you to the King's chambers, where indiscernible, muffled sounds come from. You look around and find that the guard meant to protect the King is absent. It's worrisome. You stand in the middle of the stone hallway, your hands clasped, as you make a decision.

While your loyalty lies with the Blacks, you cannot stand and watch more of your family be killed, including the Usurper. Daemon has always been 'kind' in mentioning that your gentle heart will cause your death. You'd argue it's an honorable way to go.

You slip through the ajar door quietly, getting closer to the sound. There is destruction across the room. The Old Valyria model your grandfather worked on for most of his life is scattered on the floor, beyond salvation. Goblets and spilled wine, thrown in a fit of rage, decorate the walls.

It is only when a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath echo around the room that you recognize the sounds you heard outside. They are cries.

You release a breath of relief. No one is in danger, although it does not signify someone is not hurting. You peak further into the room and debate on your next course of action. If the mess inside the chambers and the lack of guards mean anything, it's that the King would like to be alone.

But you know Aegon. You grew up with him. He's not one to reach out for help until it's too late. You make a haste decision. Aegon will not grieve alone tonight.

You know what that's like. Your brother, Lucerys, was murdered not too long ago, and you had no choice but to mourn alone. The Hand of the King locked you in your chambers, afraid your temper would lead you to do something drastic. It's the most horrid thing you've ever endured.

How you wished for Rhaenyra, or anyone for that matter, to hold you while you cried. A maid would've sufficed, but no one was allowed entry into your chambers.

Aegon sits by the fireplace, his head hung low, as he cries for his dead son. It might not have looked like it, but Aegon deeply cared for the boy. He wished to be better than his father ever was, and he was succeeding.

Until two days ago.

You've witnessed firsthand the blanket of sorrow that has covered the Red Keep, spent many hours by Haelena's side, offering her your shoulder, and never realized the King would need the same.

Why is Aegon alone? He should not have to go through this by himself. You expected he would have surrounded himself with his men and countless bottles of wine or sought refuge in Helaena's arms since they shared the same grief.

A heartbreaking cry snaps you out of your thoughts—his whole body trembles from loss. Aegon gasps for air to aid his burning lungs, yet he can't control the tears that track down his cheeks and the raking breaths that course through his body and limit his breathing.

He does not know what to make of himself. His fingers shake as he fumbles with the ring on his finger—the one with the dragon crest. Aegon doesn't know what to make of himself. He's never endured this sort of loss.

His sobs are the ones of a man who lost a part of himself. Jaehaerys, his legacy, has gone too soon. Aegon spent time with the boy the morning before his death, doting on him like Viserys never did to him.

He's so lost in his grief that Aegon doesn't hear when you stumble upon a piece of cast from the model. Being careful with your steps, you reach Aegon's side and place a hand on his shoulder.

Alarmed, he turns to face the person who disturbs him, only to find you—you who have been keeping the Hightower siblings together despite belonging to the other side.

"Leave me be," he sniffs, staring back into the fire. He wonders if that's how his son's pyre looked earlier that day.

You kneel on the floor, settling between his legs to cup his cheeks in your palms. Wide, glossy lilac eyes stare back as they fill with more tears.

As his tears fall, you wipe them away. It's enough to make Aegon crumble in your arms, releasing louder cries and questions that will forever remain unanswered.

It's so easy to let go when you know someone is there to catch you.

Aegon fists your dress like a child would to its mother. You rub his back soothingly, holding him as tightly as you're able. You press a kiss to the side of his head, whispering calming words.

Aegon never wanted to be king, yet the moment he tries to fulfill his duty the moment he tries to be a proper king, he is rewarded by his son being brutally taken from him.

It's not a fair world. The Gods have never been kind to him, and he's afraid he'll only ever live a life of torment.

Now, more than ever, he doesn't want to be King. It is a mere reminder of how heavy the crown truly is. It's a shackle meant to keep him in place while others act upon his name while he pays for the consequences.

"Jaehaerys was a bright soul. I am sorry this has happened. You should've never had to experience this pain," you whisper in his ear. No parent should experience the death of their child. It is a sad reality the Targaryens have experienced all too well.

Aegon nods in agreement, and only when he's calm enough to speak does he tear himself away from your embrace. He instantly misses your warmth and the smell of roses in your hair.

"Why are you comforting me when you should be celebrating my demise?" His waterline is stained red, just like the tip of his nose, and he's never looked more innocent than in that moment.

You tilt your head sadly, that same emotion reflected in your eyes. "I do not celebrate the loss of innocents, especially one that has gone too soon. I also do not particularly like the notion of someone I hold dear grieving alone."

"You did," he sniffs. He remembers hearing your cries that night; the whole Red Keep could. You cried and screamed the entire night until you fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.

Otto prohibited them from coming to you. Haelena tried, but he dismissed the idea with the false notion that you'd hurt her in your grief. Otto confuses you with your parentage. Unlike them, you're kind and gentle and wouldn't dare hurt anyone.

"Which is how I know I would never wish it upon my worst enemy." You brush your fingers through his blonde hair, tucking the messy strands behind his ears.

"Is that what I am to you? An enemy?" He asks, disgruntled.

"No," you answer immediately, your hands coming down to rest upon his chest. His breathing has calmed since you first saw him. "At least, not yet."

His lilac eyes bore into hers in search of the truth; shyly, you hold onto his gaze with nothing to hide except your intentions to help. Sighing, he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours. Aegon will take what he can get. There's seemingly no one else to help him deal with his emotions.

"Stay," he pleads, holding onto the hand that's placed on his chest. This is the most at peace he's felt in a while. He wishes to savor it for a moment longer.

"For as long as you need, my King," you reply, closing your eyes.

"Aegon," he says. He refuses to be reminded of what lies outside his bed chambers. For just a moment, he wishes to simply be Aegon.

"Aegon," you respond, correcting yourself. He squeezes your hand appreciatively, tucking your head on his neck.

He keeps you in his arms until late hours in the night, recounting memories he shared with Jaehaerys. The pain is real and raw, and he won't be well for a long time, but for this night, Aegon will seek solace in your embrace, where he knows he won't be judged or be seen as a burden.

In your arms, he's not Aegon' the Magnanimous.' He's not seen as careless or reckless or the lesser child of Alicent Hightower.

He's Aegon.

helaena’s part has been posted! HELAENA’S TURN

Final part! STAY WITH US

that’s it! it’s sweet and short. i just wanted to have someone comfort aegon like he deserves. during that scene i wished i could jump into t he screen and hug him. it’s all so tragic.

i wish i could do the same with haelena. my girl needs to be coddled. fuck alicent. fuck otto. most importantly fuck criston cole.

if you enjoyed this one shot please don’t forget to like or comment and if you want more of it feel free to let me know! i don’t bite (unless you want me to)!

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[envy-of-the-apple]

ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

[makuzume]

Toge Accidentally Uses His Cursed Speech on You (Part 1 & 2; SMAU + FIC)

🔅Content: angst; injury; s2 spoilers; gn! reader; implied relationship; mentions of death (civilians); slight cursing; Shibuya trauma

🔅Synopsis: After the events of the Shibuya Incident, you haven't heard from Toge ever since. You decided to go to him but the both of you get into an arguement and out of frustration... he spoke.

🔅a/n: for the sake of convenience, Part 1 and Part 2 has been merged together to make it easier to navigate.

[JJK Masterlist] [Part 3]

🔅PART 1🔅

🔅PART 2🔅

🔅Word Count: 3.3K

....

You jumped off of the stone wall, attempting to gently land over some of bushes, trying your best to make the shock mostly be absorbed by your healed leg. However, the pouring rain caused the soil beneathe you to turn into wet mud, making you lose your balance and immediately slip upon landing.

"Argh..." You slightly winced, hurt as your whole body fell further into the ground, failing to protect your broken leg from receiving zero pain.

'I deserved that' you thought to yourself. Afterall, there was no one else to blame this accident on other than you.

You, who came here on your own accord, jumping over a wall no one told you to, who else would have been responsible? 'Maybe Toge, if only he had sent just one text message explaining himself', you thought to yourself in your defense, mentally rolling your eyes in frustration. But still, you honestly can't bring yourself to blame him, afterall, you figured he's been going through so much right now.

Fortunately, despite your late arrival in the night, Toge happened to be awake at this hour and had heard the ruckus you were making.

From the window, he saw your failed attempt at a perfect landing, and without a second thought, he quickly stood up and put on his robe, immediately hurrying to tie the knot closed, rushing to get himself covered before coming outside to help you.

Instinctively, he went to reach for both strings of the robe on each side, but it was only when he couldn't feel the soft, towel-like strips of one of fabrics on the left side did a sudden realization hit him:

His arm. He only had one arm now.

It was another instance for him to be reminded that he had lost a part of his body: a horrible mark of the events in Shibuya, a memory of all the lives he wasn't able to save, a reminder of all the friends he had failed to protect....

A sickening darkness grew at the pit of his stomach once more as he recalled all those horrible memories.... it was the same awful feeling he'd been experiencing these past few days while he was all alone, trapped in his room, and never even having a second's worth of peace.

Shaking his head, he pushed away those thoughts for the time being and just let the robe loosly hang over him, his only remaining arm going inside one of the sleeves.

Toge was still not used to how to maneauver his body right now, so much so that he still has to even remind himself from time to time about the new state of his physical appearance.

He hurried out of his room and into the garden, little splashes from the puddles staining his legs on the way. When he reached you, you open your eyes, taking your attention off of the pain you felt in your leg to find Toge hovering over you.

Surprised you were when you first laid eyes on him. He was wearing his robe open to you, allowing it to show all the dark bruises, scars, and thick bandages covering his bare upper torso. It was a painful sight to see, causing you to frown slightly.

Other than the appearance of his physical condition- he looked awful, emotionally. The bags under his eyes becoming evidence for his lack of sleep while his pupils showed a loss of light in them. His expression was exhausted, and his aura was different- not like the usual playful and relaxed Toge you once knew.

Seeing him as he stood in front of you now.... it felt like he was a different person, and you were taken aback for a moment because of it.

"...Mustard leaf?" His voice was dry and his tone was low- more empty of life.... but he still somehow manage to speak with just a bit of genuine concern as his eyebrows expressed slight hints of sadness and worry.

His form slowly crouched down, mildly struggling to bend himself from all the injuries he had on his side. Regardless lf the pain, he did it anyway in order to help you.

Using his only arm and his body as a support for you, he helped you stand up. You were able to feel him struggle slightly, Toge's body slightly more unsteady and frail as the both of you walked- His breath quietly quivering with each step, and he would take a sharp inhale of air every time you leaned just a little too much on him as he helped carry you over to the nearest gazeebo.

You felt bad for making him lift you... for making him become drenched along with you.

Regardless, even if you refused, no way would Toge leave you alone in the rain, all sad and pitiful. And you knew that. Because that's just the kind of person he was.

Despite the fact that he had been ignoring you for days, his actions now had served as a reminder that he did in fact still cared about you, you took note.

Yes, there had been a bit of akward tension with the current situation the both of you were in, but he would never even dare of becoming so uncaring and hurt your feelings to do anything like that

...right?

Toge was trying to carefully set your body down on one of the benches, mildly challenged as he did so while keeping his gaze low.

Perhaps he was embarassed that he's not used to maneuvering around with a missing arm just yet, or he's embarassed at the fact you came all this way and somehow endded up getting hurt just because he never replied to you.

You felt small stinging sensations underneathe your cast as you were as you gently settle on your seat, slighthly gripping your fist to hold back the pain you felt in your right leg.

You spoke up, a bit embarassed "... sorry... for making you come out like this..." A quiet moment passed before he responded by shaking his head gently, lightly waving off his hand as he gestured a polite 'don't mind it'.

It was silent, only the sounds emitting any noise being the rain hitting the soil and the droplets trippling against the roof above you.

"Salmon roe." Softly, he spoke, and you slowly drove your gaze towards him, his eyes looking at you rather seriously. With slow movements, he gently gestured towards the house, then towards the garage, then at you. Your eyes furrow at the action, understanding what he wanted to comunicate despite lacking the use of words.

"...No, I don't want to be taken back to the school after a shower." You said quietly, a slightly stubborn attitude taking over as you look away in disagreement. But this wasn't a good time to argue. He absolutely wasn't in the mood to bicker and wanted to get away from anything and everything stressful adding to his plate.

He gestured again to the house, then at the garage but a bit more sternly, to which you reply a cold hard refusal.

"...No." in an equally stern attitude, you stated, a slight glimpse of sorrow seeping through your voice as you look down "....I'm not going."

Toge showed hints of frustration, his expression a bit more irritated but also trying his best to retain his composure towards you, but his emotions were beginning to get the best of him once more.

It wasn't like Toge at all: Toge who was always so patient and calm... what exactly changed him since Shibuya? One can't help but wonder what were all the things a person had seen to make him act so different.

"Toge. Look at you. You were already gone for DAYS and not talking to ANYBODY" You gestured towards his body then at his face worriedly "You're thinner and lost the hope you had in your eyes... what happened to you..? What did you see...?" You spoke with worry. "it's scary to think what else you're going through while you coop yourself up in that room by yourself...."

He remained quiet, understanding where you're coming from.

It did make him feel a bit bad, suddenly leaving everyone to find out for themselves what was happening to him. But he figured that everyone was probably having their own mental breakdowns during this time as well, so maybe they need some time to process it too-... or that's what he wanted to believe the case to be.

In truth, he just wanted to rot and suffocate in his own suffering alone.

You were his best possible source of comfort, and he never even given himself the choice to be consoled by you. In fact, you were the last person he wanted to be with right now.

He didn't deserve your affectionate gazes, your gentle touches, your soft voice, your reassuring words... he knew you would be the gateway to end his suffering... but that's the thing, he refused this comfort willingly, he doesn't want this depressing feeling to end.

Toge let himself sulk in his own misery, torturing himself. All because he believes he deserves it.

"Toge, I know it's just horrible, everything. It's absolute bullshit.. But I hope staying quiet here for days had given you the time you needed to be by yourself.... staying alone in your room any longer might do more damage to you than you think."

You were right, he thought. But it didn't matter to him.

He wanted to drown in suffering, drown in guilt, hoping one day he may never wake up from it.

But that would mean escaping his own sins- so he always found himself needing to take back what he said mentally, remembering to endure the twisted thoughts seeping into his mind because he doesn't believe he shouldn't take the easy way out.

"Toge... I saw their bodies too... some of them, at least... When they took some of them back to the hospital... Our friends..." your voice spoke weakly, almost as if it was about to break as you lightly tremble.

You weren't there when it happened, and you felt bad about it. The most you could've done was helping in treating the survivors with your amateur use of Reversed Curse Technique while listening to their horrific experiences.

"... I can't unsee it... though... it made me think about you... I can't ever imagine what it must've been like for you in there." With a shakey breath, you whispered, trying to even comprehend the scenes he must've witness or the weight of responsibility Toge must be pinning on himself.

Suddenly, a wave of flashing images enter Toge's mind as if a slideshow started playing. The memories were accompanied by the same sinking and gut wretching feeling he had during that night, the same feeling he thought he was able to surpress well enough these past few days for it to never re-emerge again.

But he was wrong.

You lifted your head towards him, a knowing look and spoke with s worried tone. "Toge... whatever happened to the civilians in Shibuya was not your fault."

Your sudden choice of words had taken him aback.

'You heard what happened?' He first thought to himself, but then an immediate tightness was present in his chest and his breath had suddenly seemed to have gotten caught in his throat.

'That's wrong.'

'It was my fault.'

'I led them there.'

'All the civilian's deaths were because I led them there. All of them.'

He didn't want you to know, he prayed you wouldn't find out.

There was so much shame that he felt whenever he would remember that he was the cause for leading so many people to their deaths.

He felt so much shame that he couldn't even dare face you, which was another reason why he'd been pushing you away for days on end.

"...I can't imagine what you must've felt, but I know it was horrible." You said, speaking with such a pained and concerned voice.

You understood how this might've made Toge feel, and you knew he would be blaming himself for all the unpredictable deaths of those innocent lives that were caught up in Sukuna's attack... which is why you made the effort to be there for him.

"...n..."

His voice hitched quietly, his mind whispering for you to stop. His breathing got heavier as if the air suddenly thickened; His jaw lightly trembling as he remembered.

Everything else around him becoming mere background noise to him, his awareness to his surrounding fading. He couldn't think straight.

You noticed his sudden shift in behavior, his previous stoic and serious demeanor disappearing. His body was tensed and his expression afraid, terrified even.

"....s...to..."

It was barely audible, and all you could hear was a low and shakey grunt.

"What...?" Was all you could reply, unable to hear his quiet whispers.

"....n...o."

Once more, he silently whispered.

Concerned, you slowly began reaching for him, ever so gently touching his arm with the tips of your fingers to ease him, to ease his nerves, however, it only did quite the opposite.

At the moment, he only felt your touch, every other one of his senses drowning into nothigness. The moment your hand lightly glazed the skin of his arm, the memories suddenly flooded his mind. The deaths of civillians, his murdered allies, the transfigurations, the sorcerers getting killed... It was all too much for him. Too much.

Overwhelmed, he did the unthinkable. Suddenly...

"G..."

He spoke.

"..GET AWAY FROM ME" Toge yelled, quickly retracting his arm away from you by instinct.

With that being said, the curse fulfilled the command.

The next thing you knew, you felt yourself harshly sent flying from one end to the other, across the entire backyard of the clan's abode.

It didn't feel like it was just a gust of wind like you had imagined, no. It felt like suddenly being struck by a train at high speed or hitting the concrete after falling from a building the second the curse was activated.

Toge's eyes widened and immediately snapped towards your direction when he heard the sound of your voice screaming as you were thrown.

It didn't help that your instincts came at the worst possible time. In a pitiful attempt to lessen the impact of the fall, you allowed your body to make use of its training, instinctively posing the way you were always taught to land in while sparring with Maki and the others.

Though this time, you forgot to take into consideration the handicap you had at the moment, and unfortunately for you, your feet would need to be the first to hit the ground with the stance you thought could protect your body best.

It was a big mistake- The fall absorbed all the shock which injected itself onto your already broken leg.

You released a scream, but you still couldn't stop the landing just yet. As the force of the throw continued to push you forward, you end up rolling for a few more meters before abruptly hitting the stone wall on the other side of the yard. Your senses numbed for a moment and your vision blurred; Your mind was disoriented, but your heart was crushed.

It was fucked, your leg, that's what you were sure of. Not even your level of healing could save this one, bitterly you thought as you tried your best to use your reverse cursed technique to at least lessen the pain.

Shock overwhelmed Toge- it would've had him frozen in place but his insticts made him disregard all his negative thoughts and sprint towards you faster than he had the time to even register what had just happened.

Once he reached you, he quickly crouched down, not caring about the pain he felt as he did so, observing your current state, his mind clouded with shame.

He hated himself. Every fiber of his being hated himself for hurting you. He felt disgusted over his cursed speech for ever doing this to someone as kind, understanding, and loving as you.

Everything Toge had ever feared to do... ever since he was young....

He let this happen again... to someone he loved.

For a moment, Toge was a bit relieved to see you still able to move... but the overpowering amount of guilt still filled him to the core.

He wanted to call out your name, but stopped himself for a second as he took the time to think if it was a 'safe word' to say that wouldn't activate his curse again. Afterall, he's already done so much damage of using it just once on you.

"Y-.... y/...n...." anxiously and hoarsly he spoke, his voice low, unsure on how to approach the situation.

With his hand reaching out to you, hesitantly he spoke again "...y/n."

Very slightly, your body gently back away from his reach, a sign he immediately took to back away from you: You didn't want him to get near you. Were you scared of him? Did you hate him? Had he broken your trust?

As your mind began to defog, you sat up slowly, bit by bit regaining more of your vision again. The pain was slowly seeping in more to your broken leg as you gripped the upper part of your cast, grinding your teeth, and silently trembling. Toge could only watch in horror as he takes a few seconds to reflect on his own actions.

You were quiet. Extremely quiet. He hated it. Why aren't you yelling at him? Cursing at him? What were you thinking? How hurt are you...? The only sound being the drops of rain that were hitting the ground as you looked down with a look of disappointment visible in your expression, slowly regaining your composure.

With a heavy sigh to calm your uneven breath, you spoke "... I know you're hurting... I am too... but the last person I thought that could ever hurt me.... was you." You spoke quietly and slowly, your head low and your voice dejected, still gripping on your leg as your breath further turned uneven.

"y/n.... I..." He immediately paused again, stopping himself from even risking the accidental use of his speech again. He hurriedly tried to take his phone, rummaging through his pants as his hand trembled, but before he could even begin typing what he wanted to say to you, you weakly raised your hand, stopping him.

"I shouldn't have pushed you." You looked at him as your eyes had small pools of droplets resting at the lids of your eyes- droplets he knew were not because of the rain. Your caring, gentle, and soft gaze beginning to fade, just like how he felt your trust in him starting to disipitate

You made a few attempts to stand up slowly, failing miserably each time as Toge had his hand hover over you, wanting to assist you but respecting the boundaries you had just put up.

It still hurt though, pretty bad. But honestly what hurt most was not the fact you were thrown across an entire backyard, but because Toge had used his curse on you.

Falling onto the ground again after another failed attempt at standing up, he reached for you, but pulled back the last second- afraid to hurt or even scare you.

A second of panic passed before he gestured towards the house and signals you to wait.

He hurriedly ran inside to call someone else to assist you. It took only less than a minute for him to find someone before he hurriedly ran back into the garden, and once outside, he immediately looked over to where he last left you- only to find no one.

You were gone.

Confused and panicked, he immediately began searching the area, calling your name while his body was numbing the pain he was having from all the movements he was making right now.

"y/n..." He called out to you, his tone sounding slightly beggining to sound desperate "y/n...!" With a little more volume, Toge yelled.

He wanted to talk to you, help you, at least aid you and get you dressed before having car send you home if you didn't want to see him right now.

In the streets, he looked left and right for any clues that you might've left as he was mentally cursing himself for letting you leave the place in such a state.

He curses himself under his breath. Oh how he wished that he could have been actually affected by it, for he deserved it.

Immediately, he brought out his phone, opened your contact, and quickly stared tapping on the keyboard.

y/n

pls

wait

waiy pls

come back

i didnt meanm it

promisr to god i dindtt mean what ibsaid

i didnt menan to spoeak

i didnt mean to say sanythjng to you

im sorry

im so sorry

it was my failt im so sorry come back

im sorry i hurt you

if u dont want tk talk to me plesase let me get someone to take you home ols

please

im so sorry.

[Part 3] [Back to JJK Masterlist]

a/n: THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING PROMPT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO MAKE THIS BUT IT WAS TIME TO TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS🫡

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

[shallyouobeyme]

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

[tinydefector]

TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

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[deltaharrington]

LOOK AT ME PT.2

PAIRING: Read and find out who Y/n ends up with…

SUMMARY: You were always the second choice.

WARNINGS: Heart crushing angst with a bit of fluff. UNEDITED

READ PART 1 HERE

READ PART 3 HERE

SEND IDEAS FOR PT. 3 TO MY INBOX!!

It all happened so fast.

One moment, you were crying over Conrad, and how he had mistreated you. The next, Susannah was dead.

You felt like your heart had been torn out and stomped on. Conrad didn’t make it any better, neither did Belly.

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to Conrad after what happened, as it came out that Susannah was sick.

Then everyone went home. Jeremiah was hurting in the same ways as you were, so you comforted each other. He drove out to see you and vice versa.

You were beginning to feel a spark with the younger Fisher, you were finally happy.

Until you heard the news.

The phone call came from Jeremiah in the middle of the night.

“Y/n…” He said once you answered with a tired ‘Hello?’. You know from his tone of voice what has happened.

You swore you’ve never sprung up out of your bed so fast. You started packing an overnight bag. You were going to Boston.

“I’m on my way, Jere, stay on the phone with me” You said and Jeremiah sobbed on the other end, not being able to tell you no when he needed the shoulder to cry on.

After a rough 3 hour drive, you were at the Fisher household. Jeremiah had fallen asleep on the phone with you, but luckily you knew where the sore key was.

Popping the door open, you knew their father wasn’t home, neither was Conrad. He was at Brown. Jeremiah was all alone, and your heart hurt at the thought.

His door was cracked once you approached. “Jere?” You whispered and he took a breath in, stretching his arms before he opened his eyes, confused.

“I’m here” You said as you approached his bed. Jeremiah reached for you.

“She’s gone” He whispered, his lips quivering as he tried not to cry. The sight broke your heart.

“Oh Jeremiah” You said before getting into bed with him, hugging him close. You ran your fingers through his hair as he cried, his tears staining your shirt.

“I’m so sorry Jere” You whispered as you began to cry as well, the reality of her death hitting you like bricks.

The next morning, you woke up in Jeremiah’s bed alone. Your heart sank.

“Jeremiah?” You called out, stumbling out of bed and down the stairs, only to find him at the stove in the kitchen.

“Woah, slow down” Jeremiah said, placing his spatula down before he approached you to help you become steady.

“Wanted to make breakfast, to take my mind off of…” He trailed off and you nodded, knowing what he meant.

“Thank you, want me to do the rest?” You asked and he shook his head.

You ended up hopping up onto the counter, watching him make breakfast.

“Thank you for coming last night, you didn’t have to” He said, scooping pancakes onto a plate before he put everything into the sink, shutting the burners off.

He approached you, standing between your legs. He gave you a half smile. At that, you brought your hands up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll always be here for you, Jeremiah” You said “I’m one call away, always.”

The funeral was an utter disaster for you. You arrived and sat behind Jere, your hand on his shoulder for most of the service.

When Belly and Conrad fought afterwards, you excused yourself. Their relationship seemed messy, and you didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

You couldn’t even look at Conrad to tell him you were sorry for his loss.

Jere found you outside, the cold air causing you to clutch your figure.

“Y/n, here” He said and placed his suit jacket over you. You silently thanked him and he wrapped an arm around you.

“How are you?” He asked and you shook your head, i’m disbelief. He hadn’t hesitated to think of you before himself.

“Jeremiah” You said and he looked up, scared he had said something wrong. You didn’t speak, you pulled him in for a hug.

“How are you?” You asked and he pulled back enough to look at you.

“I’m better” He said and you could tell he was being truthful.

The next call came in the middle of the night as well.

Jere was frantic. He had been pissed at his broker for so long for what he did to you, and what he did to Belly, but he still cared. That’s who he was.

“I can’t find Conrad, I-I’m going to Brown tomorrow, will you please come with me?” He asked, his tone sounding desperate.

“Of course, I’ll be there in the morning and we can drive together” You said.

“Will you come tonight?”

And so you did. You hadn’t quite realized it yet, but you were in love with Jeremiah.

He cared about you like no one ever had. Not even Conrad. You hadn’t thought about his brother for a very long time, and that was all because of Jeremiah. He showed you love. The kind of love you desired.

The drive to Jere’s was quiet, and when you got there, he was waiting to open the door. You immediately hugged him, taking in his scent.

“Hi” You said and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Hi” He said and smiled back.

“Let’s watch a movie, that’ll take your mind off things” You said and he nodded his head, letting you lead the way to his room.

How had you gotten here?

The movie you decided to play was far out of your mind as you and Jeremiah stared at each other. You were snuggled up in his bed, like you had been many times before, but something about this time was different.

His eyes drifted towards your lips and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Jere, should we be doing this?” You whispered and he nodded his head.

“Yes” He muttered before his left hand cupped your face near your neck, leaning in to close the distance. His lips encased yours as they moved in sync, your fingers tugging at his hair as he became more desperate.

He grunted softly as you two kissed, tongues dancing together. Your cheeks were flushed beyond any time they had been before. You had wanted this for a long time.

Jeremiah pulled back for a split second before kissing you again, his hand gripping your waist to pull you into his lap.

You didn’t intend to go any further, and neither did Jeremiah, he had tried to go slow with you, but the way you had showed up for him and been there for him had his head on a swivel.

When you two finally pulled away, Jeremiah ran his right thumb over your bottom lip, a smile appearing on his face. A genuine one. You hadn’t seen that in months.

No more words were exchanged, you two just bathed in each others presence for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Jeremiah was stressed. You decided it would be best not to discuss what happened the night before. You didn’t want him to have more to worry about.

“You ready?” You asked him. He looked up and gave you a small smile before nodding and grabbing the keys.

The drive to Brown was frustrating to say the least. Jeremiah tried to call anyone he could that would know where Conrad was.

“Fuck!” He yelled when not a single person knew anything. You reached over and grabbed his fallen phone in silence, not wanting to irritate him further.

Arriving at Brown, Jeremiah practically jumped out of the car, leaving you behind to go to his brothers dorm. “Jere! Wait!” You called.

That’s when you saw her.

Belly.

“Wha-?” You questioned before stopping dead in your tracks. Did Jeremiah know she was coming?

You followed the two to his dorm room in silence, Belly seeming frantic. You didn’t like it. Not one bit.

She was so calm. She was part of the reason that your heart was broken the way it was. She hadn’t even apologized.

You shook your thoughts away as you snooped around Conrad’s dorm room. You found the necklace he had given Belly and your heart cracked a bit. He hadn’t ever gotten you anything like that.

It still hurt. You’d probably be scarred for life from the level of hurt you felt when you had lost him.

“We’re going to Cousins, Y/n” Jeremiah said, snapping you out of your daze “Come on” He added and grabbed your hand, leading you out of the room.

To Cousins you go.

I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS

Tags: @cumslutforaemond @nctma15 @iloveneilperry @angelbabyyy99 @onlyangel-444

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 7

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : This chapter was quite nice to write. I’ve never had siblings but I’ve had people who I thought of as siblings so I hope the work translates to the reader and Yelena. Enjoy! 

Series Masterlist

“How did You Find Me?”

Tuesday.

Eventually, it was time for you to move back to your apartment. You knew it was coming, but the knowledge didn’t make it easier. 

You had spent far more time at Bucky’s than you intended. His presence had become a comfort to the quiet confusion you occupied.

The day of the move, Bucky was there, as he had always been.

As you stood in the foreign space of your apartment, he was there— helping you rebuild the space a version of you once called home.

The two of you worked in near silence, the kind that had become comfortable. 

Every now and then, he’d ask where something should go. You wouldn’t know, so you just pointed at where you thought made the most sense.

There was something methodical about the process of unpacking and rearranging. Back at the museum, you loved cataloging, so this should have been soothing. But it wasn’t. 

As you placed your clothes back into drawers and rearranged ornamental things on the shelves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were putting together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Bucky didn’t ask how you were, didn’t try to force a conversation you weren’t ready for. 

He just helped. 

He dusted the shelves you hadn’t touched in months. He wiped down the counters that gathered layers of dust. Every now and then, you caught him checking to make sure you were okay. 

By the time the apartment was mostly back in order, the sun had set. 

This space, once yours, felt like it belonged to a stranger. This sense of detachment was unsettling, like you were an outsider looking in.

Bucky moved towards the door, though he hadn’t opened it yet. He stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slightly torn jacket.

“It looks like it used to,” he said quietly. You glanced at him, then back at the room. You nodded, trusting that it did.

Bucky took a small step toward the door. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say goodbye, but his eyes told you he didn’t really want to go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally. He stood there, one foot in your apartment and the other in the hallway.

You felt a flutter of panic that made your chest tighten. The thought of him leaving— of being alone in this empty space— was unbearable. 

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Do you think… Can you stay? M-maybe for a couple weeks?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your request. 

For a moment, you worried you’d said too much, that you’d crossed a line.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

The tension in his muscles melted away as he took a slow step toward you.  

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Of course.” He said, “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

Wednesday.

Exhaustion finally pulled you into a restless sleep, but you didn't find any peace. 

It was the concrete again, heavy against your body. It collapsed around you, trapping you in a suffocating darkness. The cold scrape of rubble, the crushing weight, your muffled screams—  it was too much to process. You were desperate to escape. You were struggling to breathe. 

Then, you saw a tall figure walking towards you— Bucky! 

But the walls began to close in completely before he could get to you.

Suddenly, you felt rough hands on your shoulders, shaking you firmly. The world around you started to dissolve. 

You found yourself fighting against the intrusion.

You swung in self defense, fist connecting with something solid. A sharp grunt of pain finally pulled you back into the present. 

Jolting awake, you realized you were in your bedroom. Bucky crouched next to you, clutching his jaw.

“Oh, God—Bucky! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, horrified.

His eyes softened relieved that you were awake, despite the slight bruise. 

He waved it off.” It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the punch surprisingly well. “I’ve had worse.”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table that read 01.00 AM. 

Had you only been asleep for two hours? 

“You were having a nightmare,” he told you.

You sat up, clutching the blankets to your chest. You couldn’t remember all the details, but terror settled in your bones anyway.

“I’m gonna stay here,” he said. His voice was calm, almost casual, almost waiting for your permission. “Just in case.”

Maybe you should just tell him to go back to the guest room, brush it all off with a forced laugh, or apologize profusely for punching him.

But the idea of being alone again, left to wrestle with the dark corners of your mind, was unbearable. 

You managed a nod. 

He eased himself beside you. He stayed above the covers, respecting the boundary between your space and his.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Bucky simply leaned back, propping himself on one arm, his other hand close to yours but not quite touching.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. It was too soon to put the fear into words. Bucky nodded, and you were grateful for it. He leaned back, his head resting against the headboard.

After a few moments, you let out a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes shut, listening to the calm, reassuring sound of his breathing. Each rise and fall of his chest became an anchor, something to focus on beyond the remnants of your nightmare. 

The bed dipped slightly as he adjusted, inching closer. His human hand laid next to yours, a quiet offer of comfort if you wanted it.

Finally, you shifted closer, curling into the warmth of his presence. His arm wrapped around you, gentle and protective.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep again, but with him there, the crushing weight in your chest began to ease.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Saturday.

You started feeling at home again. 

As your eyes drifted to the former winter soldier readjusting flowers in your vase, you started to think that  maybe home didn't mean a place. Maybe home, to you, was a person.

Each morning he made you coffee, handing you a mug without a word. He offered to help with laundry. Slowly, he started moving his things here. His clothes. His toothbrush. His shoes.

He didn’t hover, but he was always around, as if he could tell when the walls began to feel like they were closing in. Sometimes, he’d catch you staring out the window, lost in thought, and he’d nudge you gently. Other times, he’d suggest small things to keep you anchored—a walk around the block, a stop at the corner store for groceries, or a quiet evening watching old movies. 

Today, you had trailed your fingers on his jaw, looking at the spot you had punched him in your sleep several days ago. You were amazed at how the bruise that formed was no longer there. Guess it made sense— super soldier healing and all. 

If only the bruises in your mind healed that quickly.

The nightmares didn’t vanish, but they started to lose their edge. When they came, they didn’t feel quite as suffocating, partly because when you’d wake, he’d be there.

He stayed in the guest room most nights, but if you needed him, he’d be there without question, laying with you until morning.

He tried to act as if he was happy with this being casual, being platonic. 

Sure.

Sunday.

Today, you found yourselves on the couch after a long day of training. Bucky had brought over a couple of old records he’d picked up from his storage room, and you both took turns picking the next one to play. 

At one point, you caught him watching you. 

When you looked over, he didn’t look away, didn’t try to hide the way he was studying your how your eyes lingered on his. 

After a moment, Bucky’s expression grew thoughtful.

“You know, that nightmare you keep having... with the concrete ?” He paused, meeting your eyes, weighing whether he should continue. “That’s actually what happened during the mission.”

You felt your chest tighten. "What do you mean?"

“I was part of the rescue team that went in to get you out.” He took a steadying breath. “I was the one who found you underneath the rubble.”

“You… saved me,” you whispered, trying to piece everything together. “I must’ve hit my head before you got there. I think I— I’ve lost them by then..”

He nodded, “You said you see me in your dreams sometimes,” His voice softened. “I was probably the first person you saw after hitting your head.”

Oh.

Bucky had been your first new memory in four years, the first face you’d seen after the darkness. All the quiet pull you’d felt toward him suddenly made sense. 

The strange safety you felt with Bucky—finally made sense. For once, something made sense.

It’s been so fucking long since anything made sense.

Tears slid down your cheeks, slow at first, then everything spilled over. 

The sobs came hard. When your shoulders shook, Bucky pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His hand moved gently along your back as the record skipped quietly in the background. 

He didn’t say a word. He just held you, knowing how much you needed this release. 

When the tears finally eased, you managed a weak, watery laugh. “So,” you joked. “I basically imprinted on you like a little gosling.”

He chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Monday.

The museum was unusually quiet, just the soft hum of ventilation and the muffled steps of a few wandering visitors. Maybe the laugh of a couple school kids pointing at the Homo Erectus display. 

You said hi to Alex before making your way in. 

You and Yelena moved through the halls. She had suggested the museum for your post-training catch-up today, knowing how familiar this place was to you. 

As you strolled through the Ancient Greek exhibit, you pointed at a sculpture that caught your attention.

"That's Mnemosyne," you said, "The goddess of memory."

Yelena looked at the statue with a curious squint. “There’s actually one for that?”

You nodded, feeling a faint sense of purpose as you explained. “In Orphism, which is this really interesting ancient Greek tradition, they believed the newly dead would drink from the River Lethe, which would make them forget their past lives. But if you drank from the river of memory—Mnemosyne—you’d remember everything and be free from the cycle of reincarnation.”

She turned to you, giving a small, almost mischievous smile. “And here you are, teaching me about memory after you’ve lost four years of it. Irony’s got a sense of humour.”

You chuckled, though the joke stung. “Drinking from Mnemosyne’s river would be pretty useful right about now.” Your tone was light, but the longing was unmistakable.

Yelena looked back at the statue. “Maybe you’re not supposed to get those years back,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe… they’re not important.”

There was a comfort in her words, as if forgetting allowed you to live in the present. To be new. To be whoever you decided you wanted to be.

After a while, you both settled on a bench in a quieter part of the gallery. The moment felt calm, with only the gaze of painted portraits and ancient relics to overhear you. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you started, the words slipping out quietly. “It’s about Bucky.”

Her brow lifted slightly, leaning in. “Oh?”

“He’s been staying with me.” You took a deep breath. “Sometimes he stays in my room. He’s been helping me regulate my nightmares.”

Yelena listened, her features falling as she gave you a small nod of encouragement.

"I think…” you trailed off, heart fluttering nervously, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Yelena’s expression stayed steady, but her eyes sharpened a bit. She nodded, but her face was unreadable.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation that you didn’t catch. “You sound… at peace with him.”

Relief washed over you in waves. Yelena’s support mattered to you in ways you didn’t quite understand.

“I feel safe with him,” you admitted, a smile spreading across your face. “I don’t know how to tell him yet, but… it’s just nice to feel… something real.”

She reached across, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You deserve to feel safe.” 

Her fingers lingered hesitantly before she let go.

An edge flicked behind Yelena’s eyes, a tension you couldn’t quite place. You thought it was just worry, the way she’d been looking out for you ever since everything went blank. 

But her mind was piecing together things she knew about Bucky that you’d forgotten— that she wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.

As you shared more— about how Bucky had held you through the worst of your nightmares, how he stayed without ever asking anything in return— she listened. 

She didn’t want to shatter the peace you’d found, not when you were finally beginning to reclaim your life. 

Still, she knew there were parts of Bucky that could change everything if they came to light.

She had thought, naively, that Bucky would tell you. Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment

But the way you spoke about him made it clear he wouldn’t.

Wednesday.

Yelena found Sam in the gym, his back to her as he worked through the last of his reps. 

Sam took a seat on the bench, ready to hear her out. 

She didn’t waste any time. She said your name, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam knew Yelena was protective of you, especially now, after everything you’d been through. "Go on," he coaxed.

Yelena’s hands clenched into fists. 

"She’s falling in love with Barnes, Sam." Her voice wavered, and she looked away for a second, like the thought of you being hurt was something she couldn’t bear. "But she doesn’t know what he was like before."

Sam’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he started. “But I don’t think he’s just pretending to care."

“But she doesn’t know.” Yelena’s voice cracked. "She doesn’t know he’s… he’s just trying to undo the damage he caused in the first place. I can’t let her fall for someone who’s hiding her own past from her." She took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears. 

You were the first person who came as close as a sister to her since Natasha... and losing the last four years you had together had been harder on her than she'd like to admit. Losing you to grief, losing your trust? That would break Yelena.  "She deserves the whole story. She deserves a choice.”

“It’s not that simple.” Sam looked away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw him. In the hospital, before she woke up. He was there, holding her hand, talking to her for days as if she could hear. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let her be alone."

Bucky had faced what she couldn’t bring herself to — he’d seen you at your lowest, at the brink of death. When Yelena first heard what had happened, she had locked herself to waste away in her apartment, sinking to the floor as sobs destroyed her body. 

She couldn’t go to see you— how could she?

She couldn’t bring herself to see even a hint of bruising on you. Couldn’t bear to witness the blood pooling on your head, the cuts on your limbs.

Hearing Sam tell her what happened to you had reminded her of losing Natasha.

The fear had paralyzed her. She couldn’t bear to see you unconscious, clinging to life by a fragile thread.

She hadn’t been there then, but Bucky had.

"It doesn’t change what he’s hiding.” She murmured, barely audible. “If he really cares about her, then he should be brave enough to tell her the truth.” Her voice trembled. “If she finds out he’s only with her to make up for his mistakes, to… to fix some guilt inside him, it’ll destroy her.”

No one’s allowed to destroy her, she thought, not after everything she had been through. 

“It's not just guilt.” Sam insisted. "Every time I see them together, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to atone. I know Bucky much better than you do. It looks like he’d finally realised what he’d— that he’d… that he loves her.”

No, Yelena thought. She knew he always had feelings for you but there's no way he loves you more than I do. 

She’d been there first; she knew you better than anyone, knew the sound of your laughter and the quiet sadness you tried to hide. She had loved you, the way she’d loved Natasha—like family. You were her sister in every way but blood.

But now, watching the way you talked about Bucky, the way he seemed to carry your pain as if it were his own... 

Maybe he did love you more, in ways she couldn’t, in ways she’d never even considered. 

“He still needs to tell her the truth,” her voice was much softer now,  though no less fierce. “He owes her that much."

“Then talk to him,” Sam nodded. “Make him see what’s at stake.”

“And if he doesn’t tell her?” Yelena blinked. "I can’t watch her fall apart. Not again."

“Neither can I.” Sam’s voice strained as he packed his things into his duffel bag, "But let him try. Give him more time.”

Time.

Yelena knew better than most people that time was just a cruel joke running circles around mortals like her.

And she was getting impatient.

-to be continued…

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[strawberrystepmom]

i'd crawl home to her

pairing: hades!geto suguru x persephone f!reader

word count: 10.8k

about: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

contents: cw dark content - kidnapping, possessive leaning on yandere behavior, stockholm syndrome to a degree, lore accordant misogyny (ugh i know). this is a retelling of the hades and persephone myth, it is not exact to the prior iterations - creative liberties, etc. reader is quite naive but has her own personality and genuinely cares for suguru. piv sex, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, virginity loss. zeus gojo, hecate shoko. weird happy ending bc ofc this is something EYE wrote.

notes: i was personally asked to repost this and figured finishing the story and posting it full length would be the best way. this is the full and final version of what was formerly known as crawling. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy it.

floral divider is thanks to @/saradika

Earth’s sun rises with you, Suguru concludes on his fourteenth morning outside his bleak domicile.

Perched high above the meadow you tend every morning, the sun rising higher in the sky with every step you take across soft green grass, he watches. The backlight drenches you until you’re a mere silhouette, hard even for his superhuman vision to make out. 

He doesn’t need the sunlight to do anything but glow across every curve and dip of you - his mind can easily paint the rest of the picture.

You live behind his eyes every time he closes them.

He luxuriates in the feeling of shutting them to imagine you while he’s in this form, something inhuman that may belong among your trees and your blossoms. Something unlike who he really is. 

Opening his eyes as he hears branches creak beneath where he rests, he readies himself to swoop into the landing you are approaching. 

Sighing with each step, the gentle sweep of the hem of your dress across your feet tethers you back to your reality. The grass tickles the bottoms of your bare feet and you squint as you peer into the distance ahead, unable to make out more than vague shapes of flora. 

A golden cage with crawling vines along the bars is still a cage, one to which your mother holds the only key. You are reminded of this impenetrable truth with every muffled step that grows quicker as you notice something in your clearing. 

A bird, larger than any you’ve ever seen, rests atop the grass with its wing twisted at an unnatural angle. The sight makes you gasp and you begin to sprint, filled with concern. The dryads haven’t yet arrived to tend the meadow with you - you’re alone. 

You’re unprotected. 

You’re his.

A pathetic caw leaves the large bird’s beak as you approach. The sound is strangled and makes your heart squeeze, mind immediately reeling imagining the suffering this animal must be going through. 

Despite being kept under lock and key, this meadow is your domain and nothing will hurt as long as you are here. You vowed long ago to make this so. 

You sink to your knees beside the bird. Suguru sees the tips of your fingers before he sees anything else, the beady eyes of the body he’s inhabiting keeping him from taking in too much of you at once. 

“You poor thing,” you speak without a trace of irony or false sympathy. Your voice is more beautiful than any melody he has overheard the dryads cast into the sky and relief washes over him as the sound. “What’s happened to you?”

He caws again, the sound stronger this time and you smile. Perhaps he’s feeling better, you ponder as his shift away from you and shut. His soul shutters with anticipation as you lean over him. 

This bird is unlike any wildlife you’ve ever tended to in your lands, large and inky in color. You are more accustomed to robins or the occasional duck, things as gentle as the life you lead. Ducks don’t even have claws, Suguru thinks as you stroke a pattern across his beak with your index finger, suddenly too aware of his own talons in this form. 

Those same talons twitch and you frown, moving from his beak to gently petting his head. 

“Are you in any pain?”

The concern you hold for Suguru makes him feel a bit hazy, your mind too precious and concerned with helping him to notice the rapidly browning grass surrounding the two of you. 

He eventually kills everything he touches, smothering the light out of every last brightened corner in his life. It makes him feel guilty knowing you’ll just be one more light to extinguish but he can’t allow this to continue.

This want he has for you - the need growing into a pit as endless as the one he alone casts souls into. 

You are his. 

A soft gasp leaves you as the once injured wing of the bird you sit next to appears to be healed untouched. No longer bent and dangling, the strength returning as the bird lifts his head. Fear paralyzes you when you recognize something distinctly human in the darkened eyes that glance up in your direction. 

This is no bird of your lands.

Adrenaline rushes but you stay, watching the bird twitch as he begins to transform into something inexplicable before your eyes. Feathers give way to hair, a beak to a face. You draw your fingers back as wings become hands but they’re captured quickly between cool fingers much larger than yours. 

Fear blankets your mind and you gape at Suguru as he transforms into a man - nude, bare to the sunlight. You can make out every defined plane muscle and scar, the sight as terrifying as it is alluring. You know all too well who has trapped you between his talons. 

“Why are you here?”

Despite the terror in your widened eyes, desire flickers within them. Suguru notices you do not flinch or stray as he reaches out and caresses your jaw with his fingertips in the same pattern you were gently etching across his beak. 

“For you.”

Almost as if you are no longer in control of your own body, you melt into his touch and your eyes grow heavy. His large palm cups your cheek and he gently pinches the soft round between his index finger and thumb.

He wishes you’d come willingly but he can’t be certain and will not leave room for error. 

Your eyes flutter shut gently, your body slackening as the magic he used to coerce you to sleep takes hold. Bundling you against his bare chest, a victorious smile crosses his handsome features.

You are his, wrapped in his embrace, and he holds you as delicately as a fragile newborn as the ground shakes beneath the two of you.

“Let’s return home,” he mutters down at you knowing there will be no response. Your breathing is steady, little puffs of air leaving your barely open lips. He presses his palm against your cheek, your throat, your chest. 

He resists the urge to map you out knowing he’ll have plenty of time to do so as soon as the two of you have settled in the underworld. 

The God above answered when your mother cried out to the heavens and Earth herself the first evening you did not return to your mother. 

Your routine has been the same for many of your living years - trudging back to your family estate with muddy feet and eyes you have to force open to stay awake through the evening meal you used to share with her. Days spent beneath the sun turning to evenings withering beneath another light altogether.

Satoru set his cerulean gaze on the lands below, the verdant rolling hills of Demeter's domain, and he knew without a second thought the encroacher who had been there. Brown grass in the shape of footprints led straight to your clearing - where he knew Suguru trapped you.

His need had become insatiable, a fear they’d all kept to themselves for far too long.

Lounging across an ornate chaise in the social room of Demeter’s estate, Satoru eyes her home carefully. Everything here is so polished, so prim. It’s a wonder she has ever let you get your hands dirty at all, her little blossom ripe to be plucked straight from her stem. 

“Go to him,” Demeter begs the god with teary eyes, his snowy hair framing his unnervingly handsome face. “Please make him return her to me.”

Satoru chuckles and lifts a chalice to his lips, the two legged land nymphs and servants that also serve the woman across from him tittering anxiously. They’re lucky to be witnessing the handsome god in front of them, they’ve all remarked several times over. He sips and lets the taste of the richest wine this world has to offer drench his taste buds before smacking his lips appreciatively. 

A lazy grin crosses his features which infuriates your mother. 

“You know I can’t do that, Demeter,” he holds the chalice out to the waiting hands of a servant who graciously accepts with a measured smile. “I’m as unwelcome in his domain as he is in mine.”

Suguru simultaneously watches the conversation through a looking glass hanging on the wall of his quarters and you as you sleep, an enchanted rest he created with a spell he has not yet decided when to break. 

This transition will be easier for you if you rest, he decided when he concocted the plan to bring you here in the first place. He rips his gaze away from the glass before him and wistfully gazes at your little form. Your soft breaths, your little hums and yawns. The way you shift against him when he joins you at your side, looking for warmth he cannot give.

He balls his fists and returns to his watching.

“He kidnapped my daughter!” Your mother shouts, back of her hand pressed to her forehead as an unimpressed Satoru raises his brow unenthusiastically. “Do you have proof?”

Suguru can’t help but smirk, shaking his head at his old friend. He wishes things could’ve been different between them but Satoru belonged amongst the clouds, a god and friend to all. He finds himself exactly where he belongs - in the darkness below, the unknown depths at which mortal life ends and everything else begins.

His attention shifts as you do in his bed, little mutters spilling from your lips in a rapid enough pace he grows concerned and stands over the edge. His hair is so long it nearly graces the edge of the bundled blankets below him and he listens to your soft voice intently, as if nothing else matters. As if he weren’t just eavesdropping a mother’s desperate plea for the safe return of her child.

“Where am I?”

Suguru believes he can make out the words spilling from your lips and your eyes flutter open. He sinks to his knees beside you, a large hand cupping your cheek. He cannot tell if you are unafraid or just too unaware to shrink at his touch. I’ll take my chances, he thinks as he grabs your other hand with his free one.

“You’re home and safe, my treasure.”

Looking around the dimly lit room, your brow furrows and he softens at the sight. You delight him, in your soft and beautiful glory, and he wants you so badly it’s going to consume him. It already has.

Nodding at his words, your eyes begin to focus and you feel hands upon you. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been sleeping, it could be hours or months, but you feel rested and whole. Your fingers do not hurt nor are they blistered, your feet are warm and dry.

“Are you…him?” 

You ask and Suguru leans further onto the bed until his chest is pressed against the blankets, his face resting against the bundle of them directly over your stomach and chest. He shakes his head gently, still cupping your face. He uses his hold to point your chin downward so that your eyes meet his. 

“Who?”

A gentle sigh escapes you and you lean into his touch, head heavy with fatigue. You are still not completely aware of your surroundings but you can think back to the times as a child your mother warned you of a man who offered nothing but darkness.

“You are the light of this world, my child.” She would warn you as you sat upon her lap and let her brush and manipulate her hair into the style she liked best. “Don’t ever let darkness consume you. Do not let him reach you.”

You giggle softly and your sleepy gaze dances over the handsome face of the man next to you. Angular and sharp, yet something distinctly and indescribably boyish lives inside of his eyes. Perhaps it's an internal softness, a fondness for you, turning outward.

“The God of the Underworld,” you whisper and he feels your palm pressed against his where he holds your other hand. “You’re Suguru, aren’t you?”

For a moment, he wonders how far a lie could take him. He could keep you here in his quarters forever, never revealing himself as anything more than a concerned traveler that found you passed out in the meadow. He could lie. He could transform himself again just to eliminate all risk of you leaving.

He could chain you to the bed. He could keep you here, never to let the sun’s rays grace your skin again. He could pluck those beautiful butterfly wings straight from your soul and cage you.

Instead he shakes his head and offers a small smile.

“You’re right, it’s me.”

You laugh again, still groggy and he wonders silently what you find so funny until he hears the raised voice of your mother from the screen behind him once more.

“How could you even insinuate my daughter would leave with a beast like that?” She shouts, snotty sniffles punctuating her words. “A man so vile you cast him out yourself, Satoru, and yet you allow the most delicate thing on this planet to be sullied by his hand.”

Suguru shakes his head and turns his attention back to you, watching as you glance across the room to make sense of your surroundings. How are you so trusting?

“It’s a little dark here.”

He nods, eyeing the sconces on the walls for a moment before saying a name you can’t quite make out in your state. A servant enters the room and he asks that they turn a small knob on each of the fixtures and they do so with a nod, exiting as quickly as they entered the room. The light is still far dimmer than the sunlight you are used to but it helps you further examine the features of the man next to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes flutter shut again, the magic taking its hold over you as Suguru grasps your hand tightly between his. He needs to break the spell completely but he will let you rest, he reasons as you gently fall back into a deep sleep. It pains him to break contact with you, letting go of your hand but keeping your cheek cupped in his palm until he feels satisfied. 

Your mother continues to shout behind him. His interest is only piqued when Satoru speaks, turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

“I will see if I can speak with him, Demeter. You rest until then. Looks like you need it.”

Suguru freezes in place, wondering exactly what his old friend has planned. Perhaps it’s a deterrent from further outbursts from the goddess screeching at him. Reluctantly, he lets you go and rises to his feet and rushes toward the door where one of his most trusted servants is posted outside.

Pulling the door open, he peaks around the corner and the woman in waiting gazes at him expectantly. 

“Yes, my lord?”

Suguru offers a measured glance, dark hair falling over his shoulder as he leans. 

“Please prepare a raven, I have a letter to send.”

Things have been tense since your arrival and Demeter's angry cry to the other gods for your return. Even the lowest of his servants feels strange seeing a sunbeam trailing through the corridors, each of them surprised at how easily you seem to have taken to the human embodiment of darkness itself, although they’d never speak the thought aloud. It’s as if you’re hiding your fear of him, no alarm despite the fact he eyes you hungrily every time your back is turned. 

“My lord?”

The unlucky servant currently standing in his proximity knew the look as soon as he saw it, glancing at the back of your head as if he could look directly through your skull and into your thoughts. The only wish of the God of the Underworld would be to find himself in your thoughts as you are in his.

Despite how easily he loses himself in observing you, Suguru’s brows raise as he shifts his attention from where you gather your skirt in your hands, carefully appraising his estate to the servant approaching him gingerly. Their posture is slumped with anxiety, shoulders rounded forward.  

“You have a visitor.”

Raised brows furrow, the skin between pinching. Folding his arms over his chest, the god lets a sigh he’s unable to stifle escape and turns his back to you reluctantly. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s just that he would rather not leave any of this up to chance. He risked so much bringing you here - why would he leave anything up to chance when fate has deemed it so that you are to be together?

Glancing over his shoulder to where you stand, still curiously staring at the vines that crawl along the columns that make up the structure of the property. The sidelong glance shows him that you are still within an arm's reach and he turns his attention toward the servant. 

“Who is it?”

The servant shakes their head and the pinched skin between his eyebrows further puckers as a frown crawls across his features. The words don’t have his usual bite, despite the frustration on his face, and the servant feels as though they can speak until they see you turn toward Geto’s back from over his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, Lord Geto?” 

Suguru’s attention is pulled away immediately when he hears your voice from a few feet away, your hands grazing the petals of flowers growing despite this unnatural habitat. The ground is dark and cold, no light to warm the soil, yet yellow daffodils spring through the near black dirt. 

“What is it, my treasure?”

In an instant he is by your side, gazing down at the yellow petals that dot the otherwise dark ground. The servants hadn’t mentioned to him that flowers were beginning to bloom again, instead he noticed it now, watching you bend at the waist to grasp delicate yellow petals between your thumb and index finger. 

“Have these always grown here?” Nodding his head at your question, his long hair fans against his chest and you gaze up at him through your lashes curiously. “Yes but it has been a long time since they’ve bloomed.”

Despite knowing he took you against your will, it’s difficult for you to find contempt for the man given how kindly he has treated you. He has given you a space to call your own and expects only your companionship in return. No tilling fields, no guarding the dryads, simply being allowed to exist for the first time in your life without paying a toll to do so.

This is a stark contrast to the life you were plucked from - working sunrise to sunset to appease your unappeasable mother. 

If you miss your home, you haven’t told him so yet. The thought has crossed his mind that you are only playing to his sensibilities, trying to outsmart an old god with your clever youthful ways, but he sees the genuine warmth in your smile when it appears. Aimed at servants, even the damned begging for his forgiveness, your compassionate nature shines through. 

Despite the fact this is not a place meant for one as beautiful as you, he only hopes there will come a time when you his home as a place the two of you are meant to share. The way you eye the daffodils only allows hope to grow inside of him, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you as you pluck the yellow flower from its stem and hold it in his direction with an uncertain smile.

“You won’t be able to keep her here for much longer, Suguru.”

Another voice draws his attention from you and he clenches his jaw, molars grinding together so roughly the joints begin to ache. Shoko, he thinks. Fuck. You stand and gasp, recognizing the woman yourself although you cannot begin to fathom what this visit could mean for you. 

“Good to see you, old friend.” The Goddess of Magic pats his shoulder as she breezes past him to your side, chocolate colored hair parted to expose her face.

You can recall seeing it numerous times throughout your childhood, attending feasts at your mothers’ home on more than one occasion. She’s as beautiful as she is powerful and you can hardly hide your confusion wondering why she would be here, extending a hand in your direction. 

Suguru looms from over your other shoulder, eyes practically blazing as he looks toward the scene unfolding in front of him. She’d come to take you and he simply would not allow it, stepping closer until he stands directly behind you and braces a hand on your shoulder. 

“What business do you have here, Shoko?”

She laughs at his informality and shakes her head, grasping your hand for a moment before dropping it. Looking between them, you swallow thickly and she sighs watching your eyes immediately look upward at Suguru, looking for answers. 

He looks back down at you in the way one may view a treasured pet. She realizes in that moment, as Satoru had warned her, his obsession had won and disrupted the careful balance of the heavens.

“My business is currently gazing up at you as if she’s afraid to look away, my lord.” 

The words strike you between the ribs and you quickly avert your gaze, fixing it on the single flower in your hand. Anger practically pours off of Suguru as he looks over his shoulder at the servant still waiting and nods them over to where the three of you stand. 

“Please return her to her quarters,” he commands and you scoff in protest. Eyes wide, you feel him gently push you in the direction of the servant. Without thinking, you press your heels into the ground you stand on and turn to face him.

“I believe I should be present to find out my own fate.”

The servant gasps bearing witness to your first act of defiance since your arrival. You wait for a flash of anger to cross the Lord of the Underworld’s face but it never comes, a fond smile the sight you see instead. 

“Your fate has already been decided.” The finality in his tone makes you feel captured, mirroring the emotions that swirled through your mind on the day he took you. “You needn’t worry about all of this.”

Lifting his hand from your shoulder, he pets your hair gently before giving you another gentle push in the direction of the waiting servant. This time, you are too stunned to argue and you’re whisked away in an instant. Left only to glance over your shoulder at him, you feel hot tears spill out of the corners of your eyes but you find it difficult to explain why.

Geto’s gaze follows you until you are back inside of the estate and out of his view completely, the goddess staring at him expectantly in a means to end his lovesick antics. It’s beneath him to act like this, as if he’s a parched man and you are a cool stream. 

“Are you aware that her mother is prepared to tip the realms upside down if it means she’ll be returned?”

Shoko doesn’t bother to hide the judgment dripping from every word and he rolls his eyes in response, arms folded over his chest. It’s always a treat to see her longtime friend act as if he were young again, petulantly sulking because his favorite toy needs to be put back in her box. 

“Let her return, Suguru.”

He says nothing, his friend turning to him with an unimpressed glance.

“No young goddess is worth war. I assumed you would’ve figured that out by now.”

He decided long ago that you are worth ripping this realm apart for.

Weeks have passed since the last time you graced Suguru with your presence.

Shoko's visit created unexpected tension between the two of you and he wonders what he could have done to upset you enough that you have completely frozen him out while he takes long strides through the courtyard, eyes falling to the ground below him to see once blooming yellow flowers droop sadly.

They need you just as badly as he does.

"Please call for her again," he mutters to the servant that walks with their head pointed downward to his left. "Explain that is an order and no longer an invitation."

Suguru's discerning gaze doesn't leave the ground but he hears the footfalls that tell him his orders will be fulfilled without question, as expected.

Upon bringing you here, he decided he'd use the gentle approach with you. No reprimand, no demands, just gentle redirection and letting you come out of your shell at your own pace. Those first few weeks were blissful, you'd wait outside his chamber door until he arose to walk along the grounds with you. You refused to touch him, uncertain of where boundaries lie, but you remained curious enough that occasionally your arm would brush against his.

He'd have to claim other duties needed attending to get away from the near suffocating rush of blood from his head to his cock, length stiff and uncomfortable beneath his robes.

Part of him misses that feeling, the rush and flutter of what he has justified in his own mind as love. It certainly must be, he reasons, given the way he has miserably through his own kingdom for weeks while you've refused meals and visitors. Even damning has become uninteresting without the promise of the sun's radiant light across his face once the dirty work is done. You are his sun, his world, his everything.

Why don't you feel the same about him?

A sickening feeling settles in his gut as he wonders if you are communicating with your mother behind his back. Perhaps Shoko's visit brought you the means to do so, a plan to run and hide and stay away. His fist clenches at the thought and he clears his throat, an uncomfortable thickness coating his tongue. That is a possibility he will not, cannot, allow.

Footfalls draw his attention upward and he notices you walking alongside the servant he sent to fetch you. The look on your face is unreadable, you think, but he plucks you out like a ripe little pomegranate with little effort.

You're throwing a fit as a young goddess does. You're old enough to know better, an adult, but young enough not to care and looking the Lord of the Underworld in his face with a pout makes a feline smile spread across his face.

He's so handsome you almost stop in your tracks but you choose to avert your gaze instead, pretending dying vegetation has captured your attention for the first time in days. Suguru chuckles at your insolence, the dangerous man as unintimidated as one can be.

"She rises," he says flatly and he can almost see your shoulders deflate as you continue to refuse to meet his eyes. "Come, come. Let's discuss what's bothering you."

The servant leads you to his side before being dismissed with a wag of his head and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He's everything you remembered seeing a few weeks ago but you cannot shake the way that his dismissal on the day of your goddess visitor upset you. You believed he saw you as more than a pawn, a person rather than a vague outline for his own desires, but you began to question his intentions that day and have ever since.

"Are you happy here?"

The question makes you turn your face toward him, pout falling. Never in your life have you been asked to consider your own happiness.

In your realm, your happiness is directly tied to how happy you make your mother. How hard you work, how harmonious your meadows are, how productive you can be. You struggle to recall the last time anyone besides the dryad, who you technically had and have dominion over, bothered to ask you about yourself.

The act leaves you speechless, his face pointed downward in your direction. You dare to glance up at him and the elegant slope of his nose, his dark eyes narrowed but radiating a warmth you never imagined a man enshrouded in such darkness down to the cape of hair caressing his shoulders would be capable of.

Moving closer to him, you let your arm brush against the sleeve of his robe and he attempts to keep his face stoic despite the sheer gift of your touch. He must keep his cards close to his chest in case you've found a way out - he cannot afford to spare any vulnerability.

"I think that I could be, my lord."

You're choosing your words carefully and he knows it. He watches as you swallow and your face twists, bottom lip quivering. Despite his better judgement he reaches out for you, cupping your soft cheeks between his cool hands. You don't attempt to dodge him or stray, meeting his eyes.

"If I wanted to be forced to meet demands, though, I would have already returned home."

He knows all too well the demands of which you speak, his years spent watching you from below giving him knowledge of the fact you've never been happy locked away while your mother holds the key to your freedom.

"I understand," he starts, dropping his grip on your face and bringing his hands to his sides. It's not that he does not wish to give you the freedom you desire, it's that he cannot do so and please his own desires as well. "Do you wish to return home?"

He asks and you shake your head quickly, firm in your decision to remain here despite things feeling uneasy with Suguru. Locking yourself in your room and spending all of your time alone is better than what awaits you above, the wrath of your mother promising you'll be working in the fields for the rest of your life.

"Lady Shoko promised me safe passage if I wanted to return but I would prefer to stay here if you will allow it."

That smile crosses his face once again and you can't help but mirror it, cheeks heating knowing it's meant for you. In the time the two of you have spent together you can't seem to recall a single time you've seen him smile, much less like that, at anyone else and it sends a swarm of butterflies drifting through your stomach and chest.

"Of course, my treasure," he reaches up to cup your face once again and you gingerly lean into the kind touch, cheek rubbing against the heel of his palm. "As I've told you, this is your home."

Your home. Not his domain, not a place he's graciously allowing you to take residence until he decides his plans for you.

Nodding between his hands, you offer a smile of your own that fades as his face suddenly turns serious.

"This is your home but all homes have rules," he reminds and you nod, eyes wide. His rules cannot be any more confining than the ones you previously dwelled under.

"You are not to contact Lady Shoko without informing me first, understood?"

Uncertainty dances across your face and he tightens his grip on your cheeks for a moment, dipping his head so that your noses nearly touch.

"It's for your safety only," he comforts, spurred on by the way your posture has tensed as you consider what he's saying. "We cannot trust she won't inform your mother and she won't drag you back with her by your hair."

Doubt falls away from your face at mention of your mother and it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from smirking at how quickly you give in at the mere mention of what you left in the first place. Nodding, you accept his words without question and he's reminded of why he's so terribly fond of you in the first place.

"I understand," you mutter, mirroring his previous words to you and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he dips his head low enough that your noses do touch this time, the tip of his brushing gently against yours.

"I'll pay any cost to keep you safe and that's why I had you sent away during my conversation with Lady Shoko," he apologizes and you believe he's earnest given the way he looks down through heavily lidded and lashed eyes. "I won't make that mistake again. You do deserve to decide your own fate."

He keeps the fact your fate has long been decided to himself, the illusion of choice more important than actually having choice itself. You smile sweetly, nodding between his palms, making your noses brush once again.

"Thank you, Lord Geto."

He shakes his head, backing away from you. The smile on your face dims with the loss of him so close and you send a message to your fingertips to stay at your side - you haven't been given permission to touch him as badly as you want to.

It's isn't the first time you've considered how he'd feel between your palms. Would he be cool to the touch, as his own hands are? Would he let you explore each divot and crease of his body, your eyes roving and your imagination doing the same? Would he allow you to kiss him, lips brushing against lips, noses brushing once again?

Heat you feel fearful of blooms in your gut and you look away, cheeks warm. You hope he can't tell what you're thinking as you wait for him to respond.

"Suguru," he corrects. "I'm always Suguru to you."

He swears he sees the yellow daffodils at his feet spring to life with the warmth of your gaze when you avert your eyes from him to the ground, girlish embarrassment keeping you from looking a god in the eye. Chuckling, he reaches for you again and pulls your face toward him, pressing his cool lips against your forehead.

You gasp and he drops his hand, squeezing yours that lies at your side before turning to leave but not before tossing another glance in your direction over his shoulder.

"Let's do this again soon. I've missed it terribly."

You nod a response, too shaken to speak.

"What do you bring before me?"

Suguru never looks more grand than when he sits on this throne of bone, the picture of repose with his legs spread wide enough that his robes fall between them. His arms rest on either side of the chair, generally, but right now he rests his chin between the thumb and finger of one hand watching while his servants bring forth another soul for his judgement.

You watch from your own spot in the crowd, flanked by guards, simultaneously curious and horrified at how easy this is for him. He is judgement and you simply get to witness the process of life created above being squandered down below due to its own misdeeds.

He has been doing it for a long, long time, you remind yourself if only to quell the way your stomach turns as he denies another lost soul passage.

The job he's performing isn't entirely unlike yours - the ability to bring forth life, even if it is just simple vegetation and flora, a gift you were born with. Flowers bloom where you walk, trees grow leaves to shield you from the sun. You're the sole reason little yellow daffodils have once again sprung up across the grounds, the servants marveling at life dwelling the halls of the otherwise dismal realm.

"My lady?"

Your eyes flit from where the man you are so enraptured by sits to your left, one of his servants kneeling at your side. You greet them with a smile and they shrink slightly, uncertain of how to react to the unweighted offering. A smile means something down here and usually it isn't anything good, a lesson you haven't yet had to learn given the way the Lord of the Underworld reciprocates the sunny glances you give him.

"Lord Geto has asked that you join him in his chambers momentarily."

That isn't what you were expecting to be told and it must show on your face, smile falling into a small "o" shape as you look down at your unimpressive robes. You took care to look nice today, of course, but you don't feel as though you should appear before him looking like this.

"I'll escort you," the servant offers and you nod, still uncertain of what will be happening behind the heavy, closed doors when he has you alone.

The two of you haven't truly been alone until this point. There's always a servant, a courier, a guest. You aren't sure one can ever be truly alone in a place like this that dwells with the damned but you rise to your feet anyway, bowing your head as you walk through the crowd and toward the corridor that leads to your destination.

His chambers are empty when you arrive but you are ushered through the doors anyway, jumping as they shut with a heavy slam behind you.

Just like that, you are left to your own devices.

The already cavernous space seems even larger when you're standing in it, eyes darting from the walls to the ceiling to the bed itself. You remember, vaguely, spending time there. You can almost recall the way the linens felt against your skin, cool and comforting. You know he touched you then, held your hands and your whimpering form if you'd wake up in the night disoriented and fearful.

It couldn't have been more than months ago but it feels like a lifetime, you're a different woman than you were the first time you rested beneath those sheets but you will always remember his kindness.

Gingerly, you step out of your spot and begin to pace around the room with your hands clasped behind your back. Your footsteps fade into background noise as you look around and wonder when he will join you, still feeling anxious about why he called you there in the first place.

Part of you hopes he will finally kiss you in the privacy of his chambers. That he'll finally do what you've felt he's on the precipice of doing for weeks, gentle brushes of your hand and his body against yours sending you reeling and running back to your own quarters to catch your breath.

Without noticing, your fingers flit to your lower lip and you rub it gently, imagining what it would be like to be kissed by a man for the first time. This is no mere man, though, this is a god.

You want to be kissed by a god.

Giddiness makes you giggle to yourself, your fingertips still rubbing an idle pattern across your lower lip as the door opens behind you. Dropping your hands to your sides, you turn toward the open doors with a smile as Suguru steps into the room.

He smiles at the sight of you too and your palms bead with sweat as he approaches you, towering a head above your own and tilts his head to the side.

"Do you remember the last time you were in here?"

Despite recalling the fuzzy outlines of what occurred during the weeks you were too tired to move just moments ago, you shake your head. You'd like to hear own retelling of the events if he'd be generous enough give it to you. He chuckles and brings his hands to your biceps, holding them gently.

"You slept for weeks," he reminds, smile still spread across his features. You don't have to know his own magic is the reason that you slept and he has no intention of informing you of such. "I sat by the bed and kept watch, I wanted to make sure personally no harm would come to you."

It's romantic, you think, the way that he cares for me.

It can't simply be the thrill of being away from home any longer that makes your stomach flutter in his presence. It isn't the forbidden fun of doing something you know your mother would hate, frolicking in a realm that doesn't belong to her at the side of a man with more power than you can imagine.

You are feeling something dangerously real and it emboldens you to bend your arms upward and grasp his wrists in your palms. His smile dims into a sultry smirk and you return it with a moon-eyed look of your own.

"I wish I remembered more about it," you mumble. His hands slide from your arms toward your face and he gently rests them on either side of your neck, thumbs resting on the delicate column of your throat.

"We have plenty of time to make memories you do remember in here," he offers and you giggle nervously. "That's not why I asked you here, though."

Your smile dims as you look at him curiously, hands still wrapped around his wrists. His smirk falls and his face becomes unreadable, eyes darkening.

"Do you believe me a monster after witnessing my work?"

Those words aren't what you were expecting to hear following his prior ones but you shake your head with urgency, tightening your hold on his wrists.

"Of course not, Suguru," you let his name slip past your lips and he squeezes the sides of your neck in response. Your eyes flutter and you stutter. "W-we all have jobs we must do even if they're ugly."

He nods once.

"I knew you'd understand."

Nothing further is elaborated but you don't mind, basking in his praise of you while watching him carefully. You look over his lips, his cheekbones, his dark eyebrows that seem knit together in concern.

"Is something the matter?"

Your voice is delicate when you ask, sweet a spring breeze it has been far too long he's felt caress his skin, and he chuckles darkly.

"I've been called away to meet with your mother and Lord Gojo."

Frozen, your eyes widen and he moves to soothe you, pulling you into his chest and pressing your cheek against his robes. Your arms fall to your sides but you move to wrap them around his waist instead, burying your face and inhaling the sharp, clean scent of him.

He smells nothing like the death you've experienced in the meadows, a bird or a faun, at times an unfortunate wanderer. He carries none of the smell of decay or ruin. Not of the rot of dead flowers, earthy and pungent enough you have to turn your head away to clear your nostrils.

Just clean, simple, pure. You inhale and savor.

"They haven't asked that you accompany me and I am making no plans to bring you."

This should concern her, he thinks. Your fate is once again being decided without your presence but you don't seem nearly as offended this time as you were the last.

"I'd rather stay here, if that's alright," you mumble against his chest and he squeezes you. This is the answer he desired, perhaps even expected, but it delights him. You made it there on your own without any gentle direction.

"Of course it is," his big hands rub your back as he soothes you. "I'll ensure you're taken care of while I'm away. You will want for nothing, I promise."

His assurances settle in your chest warmly and you unbury your face from his robes, looking up. Without thinking, you crane your neck as long as it will stretch and stand on your tip toes, pressing your lips against his chastely.

The last thing he expected was for you to be this bold but he presses his lips against yours in return nevertheless. The kiss is merely a peck, a rubbing of skin on skin instead of the tongue and teeth and saliva he'd love to share with you, but it's a message. Return home safe dances across his lips sure as your soft skin grazes them and he misses the feeling as soon as you step down, feet flat on the ground below.

Smiling down at you, he presses his lips against your forehead the same way he always does when he's about to take his leave and you deflate almost visibly knowing this means the two of you will be separated for an unknown amount of time.

"No harm will come to you nor will any decision be made without you present, understand?"

He's making a promise he can't keep yet you nod, eyes searching his face for any inkling of what could be coming.

"I must go immediately but I will return to you as soon as I'm able."

You sigh, the sound light as air, and he chuckles despite himself. Holding you for a moment longer, he kisses your forehead one final time before creating space between the two of you. You watch him head toward the door with a frown, lips still tingling with the touch of a god.

"You can stay here until I return," he mentions breezily as if the two of you are discussing meal plans and not the potential of violence that awaits him in the earthen realm. "These quarters are your own now."

You nod, looking around.

"I'll see you soon."

He exits the doors in a rush, muttering under his breath while shutting them tightly behind him. The small army he has requested to flank the doors while he's gone approaches him, standing at rest while they await their orders.

"She is not to leave this room except to take meals or explore the grounds. At least four of you must remain with her at all times."

The guards nod in unison at his orders knowing their options are obey or die and you stand blissfully unaware on the other side of the door of the fact you've just been locked into a cell until he can figure out how to keep you here permanently.

"We can't keep going this long between seeing one another, Suguru."

Geto hums unenthusiastically, stomping through the entry of your mother's sprawling estate while Lord Gojo joins him at his side, jovially sipping from the same chalice that has remained full for his entire stay on the grounds. He's certain the nymphs utterly dote on his old friend, tittering over his pretty eyes and hair, the same way everyone does.

"If it were up to me we would not meet at all, Satoru, but I appreciate your warm welcome."

Gojo clutches his chest with his free hand and cackles, tipping his head back as he matches Geto's pace with ease. The sunlight that pours into the open marble halls burns the darkened eyes of the man who was summoned here for no reason other than to be threatened and he finds his patience thinning with every word he is being forced to listen to.

"You wound me, old friend. Have you forgotten how much fun we used to have?"

Suguru snorts.

"Unfortunately, no."

They did have fun at one point in time before a war and their responsibilities turned a friendship into something uneasy - a constant power play between the man gifted with the divine dominion over everyone and everything and the man doomed to herd them after they've done their earthly wrongs. It hardly seemed fair but as you said, sometimes jobs must be done no matter how ugly they are.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I do not blame you for your misdeeds in regards to the young goddess. She is very pretty."

The mention of you makes Suguru bristle and the other god just shrugs, chuckling as he sips more wine and the two of them finally approach where your mother rests among her nymphs with her arms folded over her chest. If looks could kill, the Lord of the Underworld would surely find himself one of the damned.

"Nice of you to join us, Lord Geto. Finally able to carve enough time out of your schedule of torturing my daughter to show up?"

He offers a polite bow of his head, refusing to speak any further. A servant offers him wine and he refuses, raising a palm.

"So now you refuse an offering of wine? You truly have no sense, that's one thing about you that is perpetually true."

Satoru chuckles at his side, amused by your mother's undressing of the fellow god before her, and he recalls just how long all of you have known each other. Since you were young gods and goddesses, much like you who hasn't seemed to realize you are his captive and not his prize as he keeps insinuating.

"My demands are simple so I will not keep you for any longer than I must," your mother starts and Suguru's eyes flick upward to examine her. The two of you resemble each other enough that it's striking but you lack her venom, something he's grateful for having been bit by the snake more than once so to speak. "My daughter will be returned to me by next sunset and there will be no harm to you or your realm."

Finally, the man breaks his silence and he shakes his head with a chuckle, raven colored mane fanning around him with each movement.

"And if I refuse?"

Your mother chuckles in like, leaning forward in her sitting position. A man is smart enoguh to know when he's about to be bitten again so he takes a few steps backward.

For being a gentle Goddess of the Harvest, she sure is rotten.

"Then there will be repercussions."

He nods.

"She's happy where she's at. Come take her if you'd like to try."

Moving to turn on his heel and exit, he's stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He knows it belongs to Satoru and he sighs, tensing his shoulders to shrug him off to no avail.

"Now don't be hasty, Suguru. There is a lot at stake here."

The only thing he can think of is what's at stake being you. He could agree, send you back to this realm to pick and grow and dig until your fingers bleed. He could watch you as he has for all these years, cold and alone wondering when he'd have the opportunity to make you his own.

"If there's so much at stake, come claim what you desire so badly."

Satoru drops his hand and turns his head to look at Demeter, shrugging. His friend takes his leave, exiting through the corridor he just entered through

"There's your answer," he sniffs. "I did all I could."

If death himself is willing to die for you, there isn't much more than Satoru can do besides sit back and wonder what about you has become so enchanting to the man he'd risk it all for another taste of his little prisoner.

It has only been days since the last time you saw Suguru but you grow restless within his chambers despite the comfort they bring you.

You snuggle into his bedding, the familiar scent of him bringing only temporary ease to the pain in your heart his departure has brought, and wonder how his meeting is going but your mind drifts to things far less worrisome than if you'll be forced to return home or not.

Oddly enough, your mind settles on thinking about the man that Geto mentioned before his departure.

Lord Gojo is someone you've met a few times and you've always found him to be jovial if not a bit grating at times, flirting with the nymphs and servants without a care in the world despite his massive power. You take a moment to consider the differences between the two men, one wearing his power like a halo and the other like a noose.

You can't help but wonder if it's a difference in who they are in their hearts that led them to such opposing views of their power, perhaps even the world at large. You make a note to ask Suguru more when he returns, stretching your legs beneath the blankets over them with a frown.

The chamber doors open and you sit up, smiling as Suguru enters but your face falls noticing the droll look across his. You don't move to further cover yourself, allowing him see your bare flesh in person for the first time but the view doesn't spur the look off of his face.

"My treasure," he starts before sinking to his knees at the side of the bed. "You need to listen to everything I'm saying, okay?"

You remember this sight all too well, big hands capturing one of your own but you're grateful to be cognizant this time. He allows himself the luxury of one moment to look over you - your soft skin, your pebbled nipples topping perfect breasts, the delicate divot of your bellybutton - but the moment is fleeting as he meets your eyes and you understand the situation must be serious.

"I am willing to send the realm into disarray to keep you but I have to know that you want to be here with me and nowhere else."

Granting you a moment to think, he watches your face carefully for any sign of uncertainty. The faintest trace will mean that he failed, all of this was for nothing, but it hasn't appeared yet. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek in your small palm and he exhales, smiling serenely.

"Can you promise me freedom, Suguru?"

Pondering your words, fear seeps into his limbs but he decides to, for once, give you an honest answer. No deception, no hint of trickery despite how easy it would be for him to keep you here as his captive and not his lover. He could lock you away, post all the guards outside your door for all eternity and you'd never leave but he wants you to want him. To need him. To desire him.

"I cannot promise you freedom but I can promise you devotion like you've never experienced."

You nod and lean toward him, lips brushing against his once again. The intent is far less chaste than the first time, the heat you always feel stir inside of you when you look at him for just long enough sending fire through your limbs. Pulling away from his face for a moment, you smile and reach for his shoulders to pull him into the bed with you, to which he obliges. Kneeling above you, he searches your face and you brush his hair off of his face and over his shoulder.

"Then I promise you the same."

The confirmation he needs leaves your lips and he can hold back no longer, hungrily enveloping your lips in a kiss that you eagerly accept. It would take more time than you currently have to consider when you began to fall for this man who plucked you from your home and dropped you into a world not meant for you, so you simply choose to focus on the way his hands feel across your bare flesh.

They're as cold as you expected they'd be but it isn't unwelcome, deft fingers dancing along the underside of your soft breast while he dots your jaw and neck with sensual kisses that make your head feel the same way it does after you've enjoyed dandelion wine with the dryad back home - lighter than air and heavier than lead.

Groaning, he begins to rut his hips gently against your bare mound and you reach for the tie fastening his robes over his waist, fingers moving to untie the knot as quickly as you can. You don't expect to feel him pressed against you so quickly, the searing heat of his heavy cock sliding through your already slippery folds and catching on your sensitive clit in a way that makes you gasp.

"I-I've never done this before," you confess as if it's a sin, your stomach in your throat. He leaves his task of lavishing attention on your neck for a moment to meet your eyes, smiling in a way that makes your thighs clench around his torso.

"I'll take good care of you."

He will and he does, returning to kissing a path down your neck until he reaches your breasts, taking one pert nipple into his mouth with a lewd moan. The sound of him laving his tongue over the sensitive spot makes you arch your back, his cock still rubbing you just short of where you need him most and you whine. He releases your nipple from his mouth, the bud shining with his saliva, and cups your face.

"Patience. I'll make it worth your wait."

Switching to your opposite nipple, your back arches again, forcing more of your breast into his eager mouth. He loves seeing you already on the precipice of coming apart, fortunate to be the first and only man to ever see your lust heavy gaze.

You tear me apart, he thinks as he gazes up at you with your lashes resting against your cheek and your mouth open in a beautiful display just for him. Releasing your nipple, his hands trail down your torso and he moans, aloud, at the feeling of the hair covering your mound beneath his fingers. It's as luxurious as the rest of you and he promises on a day when less is at stake, he'll give you the attention you truly deserve. He'll bury his face in the thatch of hair and even lower, giving your cunt as many kisses as he wishes to give your pretty mouth, but with an uncertain future time is of the essence and he doesn't want to hesitate in claiming you.

Tentatively, he traces his finger along the seam of your pussy and you hiss at the teasing, canting your hips messily into his touch. This is true need, the sum of your want greater than any mishap that your clumsiness could cause, and he smirks against the top of your breast and watches your face contort in pleasure as he spreads your lips with his index finger and thumb of one hand, using his middle finger to rub methodical circles over your clit.

"Is that alright?"

He asks and all you can manage is a nod and a pant, walls flexing with each circle his finger turns over the engorged bud. Your head continues to swim and your eyes shut, your chin tipping toward the ceiling but he cannot allow you not to witness your own undoing. Using his free hand, he cups your chin gently and tips your face back down to give you a full glance at his sticky finger working its way to your entrance.

A squeak leaves you as he gently spreads the wetness seeping out of you from your cunt upward toward your clit, the slick feeling of his just his finger making your eyes roll backward in your head. This is nothing you've ever felt before but it's everything you've imagined, the gentle way he keeps kissing your breast as he finally works one finger into you making you moan. Open mouthed, hot faced, chest heaving - the exact noise he wants to hear you make for all eternity.

"Feels good?" He asks, dark eyes meeting yours as they open while he thumbs at your clit messily. Your walls constrict around his finger and it makes his already painfully swollen cock jump when he imagines how you'll feel wrapped around him like a glove.

Hips moving on their own, you try to match the pace of his finger plunging in and out of you but struggle and he takes control, hand dropping your chin and sliding down your torso to hold your hip. He helps you rock your hips gently, soft mumbles and moans leaving your lips and he knows what's about to happen before you do, cunt locking his finger inside of you.

"Oh Suguru," you pant, gnawing your lower lip and shutting your eyes tightly as you cum so hard your thighs shake with the force. He smiles against your breast and positions himself so that he's on his knees, hand that was just playing with your pussy running along his length to spread his silky pre-cum and your arousal along every inch.

Watching, your eyes widen when he slides his tip through your folds before positioning himself at your opening. He leans over your body, resting on his forearm and kisses you as he moves to enter. Blunt tip slipping inside of you, you gasp but only out of dizzying pleasure.

The noises encourage him to bury another inch, slowly giving himself over to every slick, warm part of you and you gasp in unison as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper, finally bottoming out with a deep groan right above the shell of your ear.

"Mine," he whispers and you nod, chin resting against his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

There's surely no disputing it now as he begins to gently thrust, hips moving in a small, merciful rhythm.

"Yours," you whimper back, kissing the expanse of his shoulder blade between staccato moans. He feels too much, too big, too hot but you can't deny that it feels good, your walls flexing around his length as if you were made just for him.

The sensuality of the moment makes him realize he's coming close to his own orgasm and he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit, each touch making you squeeze around him tighter and tighter until you hold him in place once again, cumming for him twice and giving him unspoken permission to do the same.

He spills himself inside of you, the heat making you whine and he chuckles while trying to catch his breath.

"Still want to stay?" He asks, face still pressed into your neck and you nod, wrapping your tired legs around his waist to trap him against you.

A square piece of white sheet dotted with small spots of blood is dropped in front of your mother by a messenger sent from the Underworld courtesy of your beloved and she shakes with rage upon immediate understanding of the meaning of what's laying on the marble before her.

You are no longer her daughter, her prized little lamb, you belong to him.

The threat of war was just that - a threat.

Autumn and winter both passed without further questioning aside from a few additional visits from Shoko who has become your reluctant ally if not friend and confidante. She has kept you as informed as you need to be about the happenings above but, at your own request, keeps the rest to herself. You're blissfully unaware and fine with it.

Your mother's refusal to invade the Underworld with her own thin resources and Satoru's refusal to send any of his own troops after a now sullied goddess rendered all attempts to return you home as futile but you do return, on your own accord, to your meadow the day before you know your duties to bring forth the fertile season begin.

"And you're sure that you will be alright on your own?"

You nod, Suguru refusing to let go of your hand while Shoko watches him unamused. It's one thing to watch your friend fall in love, it's another to watch him behave like a lovesick child with no other choice.

"Let her go, Suguru. She has work to do."

He glares in the direction of the goddess who shrugs as if to say "it wasn't my choice" about your decision to return to fulfill your duties each spring. You know things cannot run without you here and he agreed knowing how much it means to you, letting you live barefoot in the sunlight for three months of the year.

His flowers stay in bloom even while you're gone, yellow painting his walk every morning while you're away.

"I'll see you soon, okay? Don't miss me too much."

Returning to your work came naturally, watching life spring forth from you as comforting as the sound of your own heartbeat and you can't hide your smile looking overhead to watch your very own protector in the form of a blackbird flying in wide circles above you.

"You think that's him?" A dryad asks innocently and you nod, gaze still fixed above despite your hands already working their magic on the yellow and brown grass below your feet.

"It is."

[happy74827]

The Lesson of Reality

[Rick Grimes and Child!Reader]

Synopsis: You accidentally get a lot more “experience” than what Rick had planned.

WC: 3080

Category: Slight Angst, S6!Rick (no TOWL spoilers) {TW — Gore, Violence, Walkers, Blood, Death}

There’s so many fics about Daryl being a father figure that it’s about time that Rick had his Joel Miller moment (especially now that all the episodes of The Ones Who Live have aired). So have fun with this cute Protective!Rick moment.

『••✎••』

They say when times are tough, people can rise to the occasion and show their true colors. For some, it's an opportunity to prove they can survive the hardships and come out the other side stronger, wiser, and more experienced. Then there is the scum of the earth. They will take any opportunity to steal, kill, and hurt others while they try and make it out unscathed.

For Rick, he wanted you to be part of the former. He always saw your potential to become a fighter—a survivor. Hell, you made it this long by yourself, after all. You had to learn and adapt to the world.

And given your age, it was a hard thing to accomplish.

Your innocence didn't help, either. On one hand, he wanted to keep you as innocent and childlike as possible for as long as he could. The world was already a shit-show. The least you could do was still have the mentality of the child you were supposed to be. Being only ten years old, it was the right thing to do.

But then he remembers what the world was like now. If he let you live with that naivety, it'd get you killed. And it didn’t matter how intelligent you were because even if it saved your ass a few times, it won’t forever.

The fact of the matter is you were going to be hurt no matter what. And you had to be prepared for it.

He had already shown his own son, Carl, the harshness of the new world. He didn't want to do it, but the world left him no choice. And he couldn't deny the boy the means to defend himself and his family.

And even if you weren’t his kid, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same for you.

He just needed the right time to teach you… to remind you that Alexandria isn’t the safest place on the planet.

The perfect time came when the Wolves attacked the group, and the gates were broken down.

After all the tragedy and loss, and Alexandria started to rebuild and strengthen their walls once again, Rick decided then was the time to toughen you up.

And thus, there you were, sitting on a tree stump as Rick stood in front of you, knife in hand, and Daryl beside him.

Eugene was also there, but he was standing to the side, watching with mild curiosity.

“You sure ‘bout this?” Daryl asked, looking from you to Rick, brows furrowed in concern. “It’s good takin' 'em outside the walls, but now? After everything that just happened, I mean? The people need yah right now, man. And the last thing we need is for the lil' squirt here to get hurt, too. Yer already lookin' rough as it is."

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Rick replied, his eyes not leaving yours. “Besides, I won’t be gone long. It’s just a quick look around. In and out, and then I'll be back. Two days, tops.”

Everyone around you seemed to be on edge, with the attack on the walls still fresh in their minds. But you?

Well, you were too busy staring at the shiny, shiny knife. Excitement shone in your eyes as your fingers twitched.

Truth be told, ever since Daryl and Aaron found you alone, wandering the woods and eating raw squirrel, and brought you to Alexandria, you felt as if something was missing.

You had never been the most social kid. You had the bare minimum amount of friends at school. None of them stuck around after you were pulled out of school. You had no close relatives that wanted you around. No father figure and the only motherly presence in your life was gone before you understood the new reality.

And while there were other kids in Alexandria, the older ones were already too busy trying to act like adults, and the younger ones were too immature. Sam, the kid that had once been closest to your age, was just a crybaby who didn’t know any better. He was scared of the dark and the idea of a walker. He never went outside the walls, so it was no wonder.

It was like living in a house full of strangers. They were all kind to you, but there was something missing.

But the Grimes family? Well, you couldn't help but feel more comfortable around them. Carl didn’t seem to like you, at least not at first, but ever since the “Wolves” attack and sudden loss of his eye, he was becoming nicer.

And then there was Rick. He was always kind, but after the incident, he became even kinder. More attentive and caring. Always checking on you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. Something about that night must've really changed him because he's been different since then.

And you liked it. You felt more comfortable around him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because he had saved you from a walker, or perhaps it was the way he talked to you, but you enjoyed his company.

You also loved destroying him in Gin Rummy. With the mix of his shocked expression and Michonne’s laughter, it was priceless.

Rick looked back at Daryl, who was still giving him a doubtful expression. But it wasn’t a no. So, Rick took it as a sign of agreement.

Daryl huffed and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to his right side. "Alright, alright. But if somethin' goes wrong, I won’t hesitate to tell ya I told ya so, yah hear me?”

Rick snorted. "Wouldn’t expect any less from you."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head, a smirk on his lips. He gave you one more glance, and then he turned and left.

With that out of the way, Rick focused on the task at hand. That’s when Eugene made his presence known. He was the man with the map, so to speak.

He came over and laid the map of the area on the ground in front of you.

"I've marked the areas of the woods I believe would be best suited for your scavenging mission. However, should your route take a turn, there are several alternate routes to get back. There are also a few marked areas with potential food sources, water, and the possibility of tools or other survival necessities.

"Thank you, Eugene. I appreciate this," Rick said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Eugene smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, Rosita and I have an appointment at the gate to inspect and repair the damaged panels.” Eugene stood up and straightened his clothes, and then he was gone, heading back to the gate.

"Ready?" Rick asked. You looked up at him, smiling, and gave a nod. Soon, you were off into the rusty car that Daryl had brought from outside the walls.

You sat in the back seat, along with the bags semi-full of supplies and some extra weapons. Most of them belonged to Rick, however, so all you had was your old baseball cap.

And, of course, the old switchblade that Daryl gave you a while back.

For most of the scavenge trip, it was peaceful. The occasional walker showed up here and there, but for the most part, they were few and far between.

You found a lot of supplies. Food, medicine, clothes, and anything else you could think of. Rick also made sure to teach you how to pick locks, avoid traps, and a bunch of other skills.

But, of course, as things go, something has to go wrong.

A group of walkers, about twenty or so, showed up. It was no big deal. It was a lot, but nothing you couldn't handle.

You and Rick quickly got to work, taking them out one by one. You had gotten good with your knife, and with some pointers from Rick, you were practically a pro.

And then there was Rick, swinging his machete, stabbing and slashing his way through the herd. His face was a mix of focus and calm. It was impressive.

But the problem wasn’t the walkers. You were both doing fine. The problem was the aftermath. When the last walker fell to your feet, a gun rose and pointed at Rick's head.

And the guy holding the gun? Well, he looked like a psychopath. He had a smile that sent shivers down your spine, and it didn't help that the sun was starting to set.

"Hey there. Nice work taking out those rotters. But I'm going to have to ask you to hand over the bags and all the weapons you have. Oh, and I love that baseball cap. That'll be mine, too."

Well, Rick wanted you to toughen up. It seemed the universe had the same idea.

Somehow, you ended up behind Rick, shielded from the man and his gun. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the adrenaline kicked in. You didn't know what to do.

Rick didn't, either. Not when a group of armed men stepped out of the trees and aimed their guns at him. He didn't even have the time to reach for his machete.

Rick raised his hands, but his body was tense.

"Don't," was the only thing he said. His voice was stern, a growl hidden underneath. The man grinned and laughed.

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you," the man sneered.

Suddenly, all of them charged forward, grabbing the two of you. Your cap was taken, and Rick's machete was tossed away.

Despite the stronghold, Rick was able to kick and punch his way through his attackers. Even with the gun being pointed at him and the man pulling the trigger, he still managed to dodge the bullet and throw a few more punches.

The man growled, but the smile didn't leave his face.

"Feisty, aren't you? I love a challenge."

With a flick of his wrist, he knocked the butt of the gun against Rick's temple, sending him to the ground.

"Rick!" You yelled but were cut off when someone grabbed you by the hair and pulled, eliciting a scream from you.

"What a cutie," the man purred, grabbing you by the chin. You tried to pull away, but he held tight.

"How old are you, huh? Six? Seven? Eh, it doesn't matter. All kids are the same. Little shits who don't know their place."

You took that as a sign. You spat in his face. He didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile only widened. It pissed you off so much that you did the one thing that would definitely take a smile off his face.

You saw it done once, with a foot. A woman back in Alexandria seemed upset with a man, and she took her boot and kicked him right where you aimed your switchblade.

You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.

So you did. And let me tell you, that was one of the few times you had ever heard someone scream so loud. He dropped you in an instant, unfortunately taking the knife with him.

“Son of a-!! You little-!!” Pain and anger laced the man's words as he clutched himself. You scrambled back, watching with wide eyes as he slowly recovered.

He didn’t dare try to crawl over to you, though. He didn’t trust his body to move.

Instead, he turned his attention to his side, where his small pistol had been tossed. He reached over and picked it up, pointing the barrel in your direction.

“I was gonna be nice… maybe have a little fun, but now?” He let out a painful chuckle. The smile was still there, but it was laced with anger. He groaned in pain, and his body shook.

Still, his hands remained steady.

"You little shit. I outta blow your head off. Let the rotters tear you apart, limb from limb. Would serve you right.”

Rick's heart stopped at that. The gun was aimed at you, and he was too far away. Even if he charged, he wouldn't make it in time.

There was no other option.

Just as the man squinted his eyes, about to pull the trigger, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. It made the man jump and look around, right in time to see one of his men fall to the ground.

"What the-?"

You turned and saw Rick tussling with another man, the one holding a gun, who was fighting for control.

The man who had his gun pointed at you took the opportunity to shoot it again, but you were prepared enough to duck out of the way.

The bullet went into a tree, and by the time the next one fired, he was the last one standing.

And boy, was he pissed. The bullet once again missed his target, but only barely.

That was enough, though. Just enough to get Rick to kick the gun out of his hands before pressing his boot right where your pocket knife was still sticking out.

Rick had the advantage, and it was obvious, with the screams of agony coming from the man. He was on his knees, clutching his crotch, and Rick had a firm hand on the back of his head, ready to bash his skull into the ground if need be.

But he didn't. He had other plans.

He pulled out your knife, only to stick it right back into place and then some.

"Ah! You crazy bas-!! Fuck!!"

"You’re going to listen to me. Real good, you’ hear?” Rick’s voice was dark, and the man nodded frantically.

"Grab his gun and come over here."

You did as you were told, picking up the pistol and slowly walking over. The man whimpered, tears staining his cheeks as blood seeped through his pants.

"You're gonna stand there and keep your gun pointed at his head while I tie his hands together. If he even twitches, shoot him."

You gulped but nodded. You kept your arms out, hands as steady as you could make them.

“You sick, twisted, fuckin' asshole. I'll fucking kill you!" The man snarled, his teeth gritting and his face contorted in pain.

"That's cute," Rick said. He was quick to tie the man's wrists together. Rick was just as quick to grab him and force him on his feet before kicking the back of his knees and sending him sprawling on the ground.

"Stay," Rick commanded him like a dog, and you couldn't help but smile a little at the man's pained, angry expression.

Rick quickly gathered the supplies and the bag, and then he was over to you, giving you a once-over.

"You hurt? Bleeding? Anything broken?"

"N-No, I'm okay," you replied, voice wavering a bit.

"Good," he breathed out, and you noticed he was shaking a bit, too. Not enough to notice at first glance, but enough to know that he was trying his hardest not to.

He took the gun from your hands gingerly, and then he was kneeling before the man.

"Who are you?"

The man was silent. Rick didn't wait long before aiming the gun at the man's right thigh.

"Let me rephrase that. Who are you? What's your name?"

"Fuck y—”

Rick shot the man in the thigh without any hesitation. The scream of pain made you jump.

"Try again. Who are you?"

"Aah!! Fuck!! I-I'm Dave, okay? My name's Dave!"

"Okay, Dave. Good. Now, why did you attack us? And don't think I'm above shooting you again, or worse, so be honest. I can tell when someone's lying to me."

"We were just passing through! Saw you and thought, 'Hey, easy pickings!' Didn't expect you to be the goddamn terminator!"

"Passing through to where?"

Silence. Rick sighed and shook his head, but before he could fire another shot, Dave finally caved.

"Back to c-camp. Please, we have family. Wives, children… We meant nothin' by it! We swear! We just-! We were hungry. We were starving! Please, have mercy!"

"Children? Like the one you just threatened to shoot in the head?" Rick growled. Dave flinched.

"N-no, I-"

“Where are they? Down that stream? I saw your tracks earlier. That was you, wasn’t it?"

Dave's silence spoke volumes. Rick looked back at you, and you were staring at the man, wide-eyed and fearful, not of him specifically, but of what Rick could do to him.

Rick took a deep breath and then turned back to Dave.

"How many are there?"

"T-Ten. Maybe eleven."

"Are they armed?"

"J-Just with knives and stuff."

"You got anything else? Any other guns or ammo?"

"N-No. Please, just let us go! We won't bother you again! Just don't hurt me."

Rick looked back at you again. Your eyes were still locked on the man, but you could feel his gaze. You looked up at him.

"With that stunt, you just pulled,” Rick stood up, his eyes still aligned with yours, but he wasn’t speaking to you. He was addressing Dave.

"I can’t take that chance.”

Then the bullet fired, and soon it was just you and Rick with a bunch of corpses.

He quickly holstered the gun and rushed to bags left on the ground.

"What about his family?” Your voice was shaken. You had never seen someone shot like that, point blank.

Rick sighed, pausing in his movements.

"They don’t exist.” Rick stood and turned, looking you in the eye. “I know people like him. If he had a family, they're already dead, or he killed them himself.”

You didn’t break eye contact, “and if you’re wrong? What then?"

Rick didn’t even blink. "Then I saved them a lot of suffering."

Rick didn't like doing this, killing people, taking life. He hated it, really.

But he would be damned if anyone ever laid a hand on his family or his people. Even if it meant getting a little bloody.

You had to turn away from him, from the intensity of his stare.

Rick sighed and walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You did good back there. Really good. The world it’s… It ain't kind to people. And even though I hope it never happens, you have to be prepared for anything. For anyone."

Rick squeezed your shoulder, and his voice was gentle.

"And, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

[longing-for-the-past-times]

Their reaction to seeing you reading

Task Force 141 x Reader headcanons

notes: I don't know if this was done before, but once I got the idea, I couldn't get it out of my head before writing it down. This is my first time writing headcanons, I hope I did the characters justice :). Let me know what you think about it!

find it on a03 masterlist

Captain 'John' Price

He is headed towards the lounging area after staying overtime because of due paperwork. It is already dark outside and, when he sees the lights on, he thinks someone just forgot them that way.

You may understand his surprised reaction when he sees you sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in your hands.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack, kid!”

You give him a sheepish smile and hide your face behind the book, staying true to the principle: out of mind, out of sight. You didn’t mean to stay long - you just wanted to finish the chapter. But it ended in a cliffhanger so you had to at least begin the next chapter and the vicious cycle went on.

It doesn’t take him long to realise that you are, in fact, holding a book. And he can’t hide his grin when he figures you must have lost track of time because of it.

“Didn’t take you for a reader, kid!”, he raises an eyebrow as he joins you on the couch, his eyes drifting to the cover. “And certainly did not know you read classics!”

“Always full of surprises, Captain!”, you smile at him as you look around, searching for something. A triumphant smile graces your lips when you find the piece of crumpled paper, and you proceed to put it on the page you remained at, before closing the book.

Definitely asks you about the book you’re reading and what else you’ve read, proceeding to compare your literary preferences

He may not read as much as he did when he was younger, but he can and will boast with the filled bookshelves he has at home

Encourages your reading habits when you are at the base and brings you reading snacks when you decide to spend your evenings in the base’s lounging room, curled up with whatever book you’re reading at the moment

Might sometimes join you with a book of his own. Nobody dares to say anything about the two operators who occasionally spend their lunch break with their noses stuck in a book.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Never been much of a reader as he simply did not have the time, or the available resources

So at first, he does not understand why you are sobbing by yourself in the kitchen, frantically highlighting something with a neon marker

Who did that to you? Did he need to hunt down someone?

It was when he got closer that he realised you were actually reading something and the content must have made you upset

No problem, he’ll track the writer down and-

"Oh, Ghost, didn’t see you there!", you looked up at him, a shy smile on your face.

He is at a loss for words and ends up nodding towards the open book: “Is it any good?”

“Well, I think it would be an insult to say Shakespeare is ‘just good’, don’t you think?”

All he’s thinking of are those literature classes he should have paid more attention to.

He quickly steers the conversation in another direction, asking you about training and whatnot. Something blooms in his chest when he sees you setting the book away in an instant, a warm smile gracing your features as you turn your attention towards him.

He spends the following evening researching Shakespeare’s works as much as he can. He’d caught a glimpse of the book you’d been reading, Hamlet, and he ends up ordering an annotated copy.

It takes him an entire week to get through it, but the look on your face when he asks you about the book is priceless.

You spend the entire afternoon talking about it (you talk, he mostly listens), and he was surprised he didn’t notice your reading habits earlier. When you talked about books, you could light up the room with your enthusiasm and passion.

Is the kind of man who would build you a bookshelf from scratch

“Your books wouldn’t fit in a standard bookshelf anyway. And I can paint the wood to match the tone of your walls.”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

The type of man that says he’ll wait for the movie to come out

And if there is a book adaptation, he'll definitely make you watch it with him to prove his point

You spend the next hours pointing out why the book was better than the movie, while he tries to convince you otherwise

Constantly teases you about your reading habits, but secretly, he loves to watch you read. The array of emotional states you seem to go through when reading fascinates him.

"Maybe we should start calling you Belle from now on, bonnie. You know, the Belle from Beauty and the Beast - the one who's always with her nose stuck in a book?"

One day a recruit decides to prank you and hides your current read in the men's showers.

Soap takes note of your distracted state, but doesn't push it. He knows you'll come to him when it feels right.

Until he stumbles upon what was left of your book when preparing to take a shower. He recognizes it only by the vibrant colour of the cover as the pages are wrinkled and illegible, due to the water exposure.

It does not take him long to find the culprit. He was too busy boasting about his "achievement" to his team-mates, in the locker room.

Soap makes sure he regrets his actions by assigning him to latrine duty for the following month.

He also makes it his personal mission to buy you another copy of the book. The only problem is that he does not remember the title. Or the author. Or the plot.

"It has this orange cover, with two people on it! And there's white text on it too!"

Safe to say, the librarian is unimpressed by his comprehensive description.

So he has to spend an entire night scrolling through an online library page to find it.

But it's all worth it in the end. He'll never forget the shocked expression on your face when he handed you the hastily wrapped book. Or the wide smile that spreads across your face, followed by a tight and warm hug.

He might buy you more books in the future, just to have you grin at him like that.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Like Ghost, he didn't particularly care for reading. It was not that he didn't like it, he just had other priorities

He wasn't even aware of your reading habits until you were both stuck in a safe house, waiting to be evacuated.

You were leaning against the wall, next to him, when you pulled a book out of your pocket.

He had to do a double take- why did you have a leatherbound book in your pocket? Were you carrying it throughout the entire mission? What if you got shot - was the leather thick enough to stop the bullet if it got past your tac vest?

"Gaz, you're staring."

"Just took me by surprise, love."

You playfully rolled your eyes at the endearment, your hand leafing through the pages.

He knew you could feel him watching you, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he just unlocked a new part of your personality.

"Is it any good?"

"Do you want to read it?"

"I wouldn't mind you reading to me..."

Once again, you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance but complied with his request and went back to the beginning of the chapter.

The story was quite gripping, something about a rich bachelor who must be in search of a wife. Kyle tried to focus on the story, but he was more intent on enjoying your calm and soothing voice.

He unintentionally fell asleep and you did not realise until you felt the weight of his body leaning against your shoulder.

As retaliation, you forced him to join you on a trip to the library. He did not bother to hide the fact that he did not see it as a punishment, not when he knew it would make you happy.

He let you drag across the entire fiction section and patiently listened to you describing all the books you've read. He also took a lot of mental notes on the books you intended to read in the future- if only the covers did not look so similar!

Eventually discovers he's more of an audiobook person.

So he would listen to the novel you were currently reading, excited to meet with you at the end of the day and discuss it with you.

[daryltwdixon]

Double Lines

a requested one shot

"Hi it's me lol my request is Daryl and fem reader are a couple and they finally decided to try for a baby. When Rick returns he is proud of Daryl for everything he's done with the group as well as being a father figure to Judith and can't believe he's finally a father to his own kid. Just fluff lol up to you if there's a pregnancy loss or not in their journey to try to conceive, baby gender is up to you. Names for baby are DJ (Daryl Jr) or Elizabeth after Beth since she was your close friend as well as Daryl's 🖤🖤" @twistedprincess-92

fluffy, pregnancy, gentle Daryl, fem reader.

Daryl has his arms wrapped around you as you stand in the bathroom together. The tile flooring is cold under your bare feet, but that’s not the only thing bringing goosebumps to your skin. He’s kissing your cheeks and lips, then to your nose and temple.

“Whatever it is, I love you,” he whispers against your ear. 

You smile and tuck your face into his neck. Praying, pleading, for once to see that double line. Before you made it to Alexandria, you were terrified of an accidental pregnancy. The thought of bringing a baby into this world terrified you, even though Judith had done so well. But her early years were hard. For her and the group. Daryl was just as scared as you were about pregnancy–maybe more from the fear of losing you. So when you both settled into Alexandria, the idea of a life outside of the apocalypse crept in more and more each day. You kept picturing a stumbling toddler running out to greet Daryl when he came home, what songs you would sing them to bed with, or how soft their cheeks might be. What a mini Daryl might look like, or a little girl who looked just like you might be like. Every day when you sat on your front porch, having coffee and quality time when Daryl was around, you’d picture him or her in his lap. Their eyes would be just like his, so icy blue like the first frost of winter. Their smile would be a mirror of yours, maybe with dimples or none. When you brought the idea to Daryl he was nervous at first, but he knew how much safer you both felt here. There was medicine, doctors, support to help during birth. One night, after a particularly long love making, you confessed to Daryl your thoughts. He had been worried at first, the natural panic of the past few years coming to him. But after assuring him of everything around you, how good Alexandria was for both of you, he finally agreed. That night, you spent many hours interlocked with him. It was one of the most beautiful nights with him, where you finally felt like something was happening for the better. Since then, he’s held you closer and closer when he hugs you. He pulls you into more kisses, his arms always finding your waist. He brings you flowers almost every day, never leaving the vase on your dining table empty.

Today you had told him, in a shaky voice, that your period was two weeks late. Every day since your period was supposed to be here, you just kept telling yourself it’s the stress–something hormonal. You knew there were reasons a period wouldn’t come. You’d had so many scares with Daryl because you were both starving and it was natural for a period to be missed due to the lack of nutrition. So you got used to making excuses for it. But Alexandria was…safe. It was home. So you finally decided to just tell Daryl, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. His eyes were like saucers when you came to him. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like that before. He immediately ran from you, and at first you were nervous you scared him away, that he needed to go out for a hunt to clear his mind. But instead, he came back quickly with a small, rectangular box. He pulled the pregnancy test from it, holding it out to you.

“Together,” he said. All you could do was fall into him for a sweet embrace. 

So you find yourselves together here in the bathroom now. Waiting for those double lines. 

“I love you,” you whisper into his neck.

He pulls you back, bringing your face up to his, kissing you deeply. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved you. His actions always spoke so much louder. When you come out of your kiss, your eyes naturally peek over to the test on the counter, and a gasp escapes from you.

There’s two bright pink lines across the tester.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s so funny, almost like deja-vu. You remember picturing this exactly nine months ago. Sitting on your porch, sipping coffee, watching Daryl with your child. Except instead of one, there were two. Yes, twins. When you found out both of you nearly fainted, the news was almost too much for your frayed pregnancy nerves. But now, seeing Daryl with his closed eyes on the porch swing, two babies laying sound asleep on him during a contact nap was the most magical thing you could ever want or need. You look over to the street from a bit of motion in the corner of your eye, and you see Rick walking over, Judith in hand. She’s walking over, blabbing about something in her toddler talk. He is smiling down at her, nodding and answering back. When he looks up and catches you watching, he lifts his free hand into a wave. You smile and wave him to come up to the porch steps. As he and Judith approach, you begin to stand. 

“Stay, stay,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “you must be tired,” 

“How are you doing? Hi Judith,” you say softly, your eyes twinkling at the little one.

“We’re doin’ real good,” he says, “right Judy?”

“HI!” she says loudly, still not exactly used to using her ‘inside voice’, stirring Daryl out of his nap. The babies squirm on him, but he lays still, bringing his arms up around them tighter. 

“Wow,” Rick says, watching Daryl. He’s shaking his head lightly, his eyes full of love.

“Thought I couldn’t do it?” Daryl says hoarsely with a smirk. Judith comes over to him to stare at one of the babies laying closest to her. 

“No,” Rick says softly, shaking his head, “I knew you’d be amazing. You’ve always been good with the kids, Dare. I’m just…” he trails off, his throat bobbing, “I’m just real’ proud of you. How far we’ve all come,” he looks over to you now, his eyes misty. You give him a sad smile, reaching your hand out to hold his, squeezing tightly for a moment before dropping it again.

“You’ve done so much for us–for everyone. I’m real’ happy that you finally get to have this.” he finishes, leaning over, putting his hand on his chosen brother’s shoulder. Daryl stares at him intently, and nods genuinely. 

“What’re their names?” Judith asks loudly. The baby closest to her opens his eyes, “Uncle Daryl? What are the babies’ names?” she asks again, impatient. 

“This one here, J, is DJ. For Daryl Junior,” he smiles softly, touching DJ’s soft cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

“Wow, so he’s Daryl and you’re Daryl?” she says quizzically. Her face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Tha’s right,” he says, meeting your eyes with a twinkle in his, he looks down at the other baby, still snoozing softly on him, “and this here is Elizabeth,” he says quieter now. He looks back up at Rick, a sad smile on his face. Rick returns it, and crouches down next to Judith, “that’s a beautiful name, huh, J? Tell Uncle Daryl what a nice name that is,” 

She giggles, putting her fingers in her mouth and smiling, “I like it,”

“Surprised you didn’t say one of their names was Ass Kicker,” Rick smiles widely and you all laugh at the memory.

You and Daryl had decided the names early on, knowing you wanted to honor his lost friend Beth Greene. She was so gentle and good hearted. He missed her, and you knew it would mean the world to him to name his child after her. DJ was the harder one to get Daryl to sign off on–he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of his own name. He thought it was silly to name his son after himself. 

“We’ll call him DJ for short–that way you won’t think about it,” you joked one afternoon. 

He had taken a long pause, working on his motorcycle in the garage, tinkering with something in the engine. You had come by, hobbling over with your large belly to bring him lunch. He tended to forget to eat during the long hours he spent in the garage with his bike, and you liked visiting him during the day. When he saw you, he ran up to you to pull the stool he had in the shop under you. You sighed as you sat, and he kissed your temple as you took the weight off your swollen feet. He took the lunch from you with a small ‘thanks, baby’.

“So…?” you say breathlessly. You were getting so tired of being winded by walking 20 feet these days.

“DJ, huh?,” he finally said, “alright,” and that was that. Life had finally slowed down. You felt like everything that had happened between the two of you, the sacrifices that had to be made, the things that kept you up at night–had finally been worth it. You were safe, Daryl was safe. And now you had a beautiful family that was safe. It was all you could ever want and need.

[sweetbans29]

Long Way Home (Part 2) - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Long Way Home (Part 1)

Summary: After putting your girls through a traumatic week - they see all the trauma that you come back with (based on THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of scars, CUTE

Word Count: 2.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I didn't really know where I was going with this but I like it. I like it a lot.

To say you were glad you were home was an understatement. The past week has been the definition of crazy. When Kate and Caitlin realized you weren't a fraction of their imagination, they wouldn't leave your side. The three of you went over to your parent's house and walked into an almost identical sight of your dad holding your mom. They couldn't believe you were there and told you the whole story of what had happened. If you thought Caitlin was attached at your hip before you left on your assignment, she was even closer to you now. So much so that she wouldn't even let you go to the bathroom unless she was sitting on the counter or right outside the door.

When you first appeared before your girls, they didn't believe you had come back. They had been grieving your loss for several days before you finally made your way through the front door and when you saw their state and heard what had happened you couldn't blame them. Them being told you didn't make it was the last thing that crossed your mind when you were given the green light to go home.

In all of your excitement on your journey home, you completely forgot about why you were sent home. You heard about the bombing of your base and immediately went back to the station, Caitlin and Kate included. You didn't want to bring them but didn't have a choice when they wouldn't let you leave without them. Cailtin's hand never left yours, not for a second.

When you arrived at the station you decided it would be best for Kate and Caitlin to wait outside of the room while you talked to one of the generals. They fought you but you put your foot down, not wanting them to know more than they needed - also because there were some things that you weren't ready to share.

"I don't understand," you say after Gen. Whitley explained what had happened at your previous base. "I was just with them."

"We are still trying to figure out how they got the coordinates," the General says, almost sounding defeated. When he mentioned there were no survivors, you buried the part of you that broke knowing everyone you had just stationed with is in the ground somewhere.

You speak without thinking.

"Send me back," you say.

Whitley sighs. He has thought about it, he thought about it a lot considering the skills you had provided while you were over there. He thought about promoting you and having you on the team leading the search who was responsible for the hit on your team. But then he remembered the reason you were sent home.

You weren't necessarily discharged - at least that is what you were told when you were given the green light to go home. You got injured when one of your caravans was hijacked. injured was putting it lightly considering you were captured and tortured for 36 hours before being found. None of that would even dare leave your lips to the two girls waiting outside. But you were definitely shaken up and spent some time in recovery before heading home. You were still nursing some injuries that remained to be seen by anyone except you.

"Send me back," you say again and immediately regret it, the thought shouldn't have crossed your mind but after hearing about your team you couldn't help it.

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's been a thought but no," he says and you release the breath you had been holding. "Sending you back in the current state you're in wouldn't do anything. plus, I already have a team on the ground."

You respect his decision even though you know you are an asset. Fighting Whitley was like fighting with a wall once his mind was made up. You also don't know how anyone at home would take you going back.

As you leave his office, you are immediately met with Caitlin grabbing your hand and Kate at your side. You walk through the pain and discomfort you are still feeling in your left shoulder abdomen and take your girls home.

The rest of the day is spent between your apartment and Hawkeye-Carver Center as Kate and CC had practice. You sit on the sidelines and watch them practice. You notice life slowly reentering the two who were just so gray. As you sit there, Coach Bluder makes her way over to you and takes a seat.

Neither of you says anything for a minute, both sharing an understanding that was sort of odd for two people who don't know each other super well but share a love for two of the girls on the court has bonded you in a way that not many others have with you.

"Telling them was one of the hardest things, one of the hardest things I have done and that is saying something from a coach," she says with a little laugh.

Your eyes never leave Caitlin as she runs through the drill.

"I can't imagine," you say.

"Their love for you is beyond," Bluder says. This catches your attention.

"Beyond?" You ask, not really sure what she meant by that.

"Beyond. Going all the way to what is seen and more. Those two girls," Bluder says nodding over to Kate and Caitlin, "You have something special in them."

You nod. You know what you have and if you were honest don't know how you got there. Kate was a given as you are family, but Caitlin - she chose to love you beyond what you deserved. She had the choice and chose you.

"Thanks, Coach," you say as Kate comes jogging over. Lisa heads back to her office and you look over at your sister.

"We are done for the day," she says slightly out of breath. "Caitlin just went to shower." She sits down and you shake your head.

"I am not going anywhere, you can go shower too," you say knowing that isn't an option in the older girl's mind.

"Ya right," she says with a scoff and starts scrolling through her phone.

If you were surrounded by both of them, they would trade off watching you while the other goes to do something. They feared if they both stepped away from you, you would somehow magically disappear. It was an irrational fear but you understood it was going to take time for them to heal.

When the three of you went home, you were beyond exhausted. Sleep for you hasn't come easy since being back and your nights were usually spent lying awake, wedged between the two girls. If you did get sleep, you would find yourself waking up in a cold sweat - memories of those 36 hours playing on replay.

As you lay on the couch with the two of them, your head is in Caitlin's lap as she plays with your hair and rubs the side of your neck to your shoulder. Since being home, you are believed to have hidden your scars well, with the exception of some being seen on your legs or felt on your torso. They haven't gone unnoticed but neither Kate nor Caitlin have had the courage to ask. That is until now.

Caitlin's hand wanders a little further into your shirt. Her fingertips find the deep scar on your left shoulder and you wince. You hope it goes unnoticed but Caitlin's head whips away from the TV and looks down at you. Before you know it, she is pulling at the bottom of your shirt to remove it from your body. You didn't have time to react to the speed at which she moving and sigh in defeat knowing her and Kate are about to see more than either of them are prepared for.

Both of the girls are staring at your body. Your eyes close and you prepare for whatever they have in store but the air remains silent.

You feel Caitlin's fingers trace the scars on your stomach then make their way back to the scar that started it all. It is still a bright pink indicating it's still healing.

"What-what happened?" Kate stutters.

You sit up and move to grab your shirt, putting it on again.

"It's nothing either of you need to worry about," you say and for the first time since you have been back, Kate can see how tired your eyes are. She grabs your hand.

"When is the last time you've slept?" Kate asks, knowing she will get an answer regardless of what you say.

"I slept last night," you say. It's the truth. You just chose not to disclose for how long.

Caitlin has tears brimming her eyes, mind still full of the sight of your scars. You bring her into you, adjusting just a little for your comfort.

"It's okay baby, I'm okay," you say. Caitlin wants to wrap her arms around you and just squeeze you but after seeing your torn-up skin she chooses against it. She is scared she will hurt you.

"You need to sleep, please sleep," Kate begs. You nod and lay back down, this time your head in the lap of your sister. Caitlin gets up and heads to your room, hiding the tears that can't seem to stop falling. Kate rubs your back as you let your eyes flutter close.

Even though Kate didn't know it at first, and you for sure didn't know it at all, every time you would jolt awake in the middle of the night it would wake her. Kate didn't understand why she was waking up, really only thought it was to check that you were still there and that your return wasn't a dream. She would see you move but then she would fall right back to sleep. It's not until now that she thought of the possibility of you not being able to sleep.

You don't know how long you are asleep but when you wake up, your head is still in Kate's lap as she is knocked up in a sitting position and Caitlin's asleep on the floor right next to the couch. You blink a few times and realize the sun is rising. For the first time since you arrived, you felt like you were home.

SIX YEARS LATER

"Caitlin, grab your daughter," you yell as the little girl runs around the kitchen island, refusing to put her shoes on.

Caitlin comes in and sweeps up the little girl, "Got you little bug." She sets the little girl down on the counter and puts her shoes on.

"And my daughter? You are the one still running around without your shoes while I'm ready to go," she says referring to your daughter being more like you in this moment.

"Ahhh! My shoes," you say running back to your bedroom and then running back out with them on.

"Okay, I think we are ready," you say checking to make sure you grab everything at the door. "You got our bug and I got our bee," you say referring to the little boy on your hip.

"Did you grab the gift?" Caitlin asks and you nod.

"It's already in the car," you say as your clan makes its way out of the front door. "Did you get our dresses and stuff?"

"Babe, I took everything over to the hotel yesterday," she says.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," you say. "Pregnancy brain." Your hand comes up to your baby bump.

Caitlin shakes her head and laughs, "You're lucky you're cute."

You roll your eyes at her and lock the door.

"Auntie Kate is getting married!" Your little bug exclaims running to the car.

"That's right bug, Aunt Kate is getting married," Caitlin says with a smile on her face, your family is all making its way to the car as well.

"About time," you say in a hushed tone and Caitlin pinches your side.

"Be nice, it's your sister's big day," Cait says now laughing at you.

"She could have proposed last year but no, she had to wait until I was pregnant again and waddling like a penguin," you say, not actually annoyed. You also weren't quite waddling yet, just getting to your second trimester but it was the concept.

Caitlin leans down to kiss your little boy's head, she then kisses the scar on your shoulder before kissing you.

"Just think about what we put her through when we got married," Caitlin says as you both are putting kids in car seats.

Your mind flashes back to all that Kate did for the two of you and you nod.

"You're right," you say and make your way to the passenger seat.

"Of course I'm right, when am I wrong," Caitlin says with confidence.

You laugh and she joins in, knowing full well that you are the one who is always right.

AN: A glimpse into the future with this one. I like it. But it doesn't matter what I think, just what you think. Let me know! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[mandowifey]

What kind of father figure behaviours would Miguel have?? I’m thinking protective af

Oh boy oh boy oh boy BUCKLE UP.

Father!Miguel O'Hara Headcannons

Warnings: ANGST, SO MUCH ANGST, Mentions of child loss, death, violence, this is canon Miguel, reader can give birth but is not gendered. Mentions of trauma, depression, bad brain times. He's a broken man, yknow?

× × ×

First and foremost, Miguel is scared.

This is a man who had lost it all twice. He had watched his child die. He had lapsed so terribly into himself that he was able to rationalize stepping into another man's life and pretending to be him. He isn't right minded, he's broken and hurting.

All that self blame and doubt chokes him sometimes.

He hurts, constantly.

When you tell him you're pregnant, everything goes still. Fatherhood is something that had always been just outside of his grasp, and now it was here right in front of him. He doesn't fill with light, or smile and laugh, but he does look at you like he's seeing a ghost. There is fear in his eyes, not of you or the baby, but himself.

Because what if he fucks this up again?

Miguel can not stand the idea of opening himself to that pain. He already shoulders that guilt every day, rewatching videos of himself with his daughter. Can he even find room in his heart for another child? He almost feels like it is a betrayal, that he was never a good man to begin with if he were so willing to move on.

When your face drops and your eyes brim with tears, he pulls out of it.

One of Miguel's best abilities is being strong for others. He can be what you need right now, and he will.

Cue the absolute nightmare of expecting his child.

Aside from you being sick, Miguel worries, constantly.

The man can hardly focus on his work. He always asks one of the doctors to go check on you or have you in contact with him. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean the multiverse loses its importance. But god is he distracted.

"Have you been eating enough?"

"Taking your vitamins?"

"How much water have you had?"

It'd be cute if you didn't know better.

You know how much he has lost and you know that he is petrified of losing you both too. Not to mention you are certain he feels undeserving of another chance, especially after destroying an innocent alternate universe.

The way he looks at you tells you everything; he thinks you are made of glass. Something fragile that could break any moment. While you try to assure him that isn't the case, he still worries.

Once you start showing, it's over.

He is constantly caressing your stomach, holding you close, breathing you in. He thinks you smell so good pregnant. Miguel loves to feel your belly, cooing to you about how good you look carrying his child. You don't doubt for a second he loves you.

Miguel is protective, most assuredly. When you want to go walking around the base or go grab snacks he is on you like a shadow. Always watching, always protecting. He makes sure the other spider folk don't bump you, and offers to carry you when you mention your feet swelling.

God, he'd love to feed you. Checking on you constantly if you're hungry, offering to run and grab any cravings you ask for.

When you get further along, he likes to talk to the baby. Speaking in Spanish occasionally but mostly asking if they are giving you trouble.

"They are gonna have my attitude, I know it."

Oh boy, when the baby comes?

Ohhhh boy.

First off it is a way bigger deal than it has to be.

That man would be in the middle of a job and get a ring on his watch.

"JESS, I GOTTA GO."

And she looks at him in time to watch him clawing back into a portal.

Him running full speed, throwing himself against walls and scratching down them to get to your room faster.

His mask withdrawing to show messy hair and wide brown eyes, coming to your side and taking your hand.

"I'm here, Im here." As he kisses into your damp hair.

You get to surprise him, twice.

He didn't know the sex, and didn't know you were having two.

When he see's his daughters for the first time, his eyes leak. The smile on his face stretches miles, his arms open as he cradles them into him. Oh he'd be melting.

You'd never seen him cry, but that day he does.

He's so proud of you, telling you how well you did and how much he loves you.

"Okay Miguel, gotta let me hold one." You laugh.

He's inseparable from you. Looking at those babies with such love and surprise, unable to believe that he was a father, again.

When you fall asleep with the girls tucked in your arms, he stays up and pets your hair.

And he promises himself that this time it will be different.

Your babies would be HELLA protected.

Good god, he is like a hawk with those girls.

Always watching, always making sure they were safe. He'd have eyes on them constantly.

Miguel is a good man at heart, and now he wants to make things right. He'd dedicate as much time to your family as possible, asking Jessica to stand in for him as often as possible (until she herself has her child).

He'd want to teach them to be like him. One of your daughters can stick to walls, and the other has tiny claws like he does. You enjoy lounging on the couch while he climbs the walls with the girls giggling after him.

Your family is beautiful, blissful. He protects all three of you.

And while sometimes you have to hold him at night and assure him that its okay to move on, he knows he's doing his best. He wraps you in his arms and looks at the baby monitor screen, watching the girls sleep. He begins to doze as you pet his hair, assuring him they were just fine.

Miguel would fall asleep against you, head tucked in your neck and strong arms locked around you.

And he would believe it was okay to forgive himself.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

A Safe Way Out

Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)

Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.

Word Count: ~3,384

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language

Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.

Breech, Jonathan.

He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.

At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.

You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.

One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.

"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?

Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.

"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.

"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.

He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.

You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.

"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.

"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"

"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.

"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.

"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.

"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.

"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"

You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.

"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.

"Five weeks or five years?"

"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.

"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.

He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.

"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."

You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.

"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.

"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.

"Why do ya wanna die?"

He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.

"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"

He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.

"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."

"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.

"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"

You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.

"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.

He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.

"Mm, didja like that?"

Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.

"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.

You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.

"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.

"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.

"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.

After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.

"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.

"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.

"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.

He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.

"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.

"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"

You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.

He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.

"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.

Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.

"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.

Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.

You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.

"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.

"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.

"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.

Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.

"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.

He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.

He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.

Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.

"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.

"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.

"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.

"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.

"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.

You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.

The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.

"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.

"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.

"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.

"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.

"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.

"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"

You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.

"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sámh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.

"Say your prayers and sleep well."

With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.