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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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The One That (Almost) Got Away

Natasha Romanoff (Intersex) x ChubbyMilf!R

GN!OC (Ryan) x Fem!R (Freshly divorced)

Natasha’s not the step-dad, she’s merely the dad that stepped up | WC: 9,218

——

Natasha watched you intently, just like she always did, and just like every time before now she wasn't left disappointed. Well, besides that time when you married Ryan, you looked gorgeous stood up at that altar, but you were painfully mismatched. They were the first person you had ever dated, but you never truly loved them. You loved Natasha though, she knew that deep within her yearning soul, felt it deep in her bones, but alas you chose the stable familiarity over love.

Natasha told you every time you two had made love that she wanted the whole thing, but you were in a committed (open) relationship. You had a child with another, and you decided she (deserved better) wasn't ready for that sort of responsibility. So, for the both of your sakes you had stopped coming over a year ago, without a word of goodbye—like a coward.

It broke you just the same, but at least you had a distraction with your infant around. All Natasha had was the haunting memories of a genuine love and, dangerous missions, a nearly lethal combination. It was only last month that the redhead stopped being reckless, which coincidentally, is exactly when she had heard of your unexpected divorce proceedings.

Tony had very loudly, intent obvious, offered a sobbing you a spacious, well-equipped place to stay since Ryan decided to kick you out, of your house. He also got you a better divorce lawyer. When she pestered him for a why though he had refused, stating 'you'll know soon enough' in the most ominous, almost threatening, way.

The reactions to your tumultuous entanglement around the compound were mixed. Most thought you two were a great match, those who met Ryan felt this way, others felt Natasha could do better than the girl who left her hanging. Then there was Tony, who alone believed the both of you to be aloof little cowards.

Ergo his childish response. Yet here you were, at the compound she still lived in, and she still hadn't been informed... It was driving her crazy, but she kept her cool, or at least she tried to, but you made it hard.

So damn hard not to run over and yell at you, just to then kiss you breathless, then she figured she would yell at you some more; but with less clothes, and in a passionate reunification of two desperate souls.

But she stood stuck to her spot, wishing desperately that she had Wanda's handy ability to read minds...

You stood across the field in a moment of uneasy silence. Pepper had to leave in a hurry, Tony excused himself with a promise to return. So now, without distraction, you were left lost in tumultuous thought.

Ryan and you had called it quits just six months ago after you gave birth to your sweet little girl, Delilah. To the outside world they looked like a bad guy, but with one peak into the carseat hood that currently shielded your daughter from the sun, everyone would know.

Know that maybe everyone was a bit wrong here...

There was only one rule the both of you set, don't let anyone else create life with you, and with Natasha's enigmatic charm you broke it easily. Ryan was still somewhat involved with Carter, but they denounced you and Delilah instantaneously. You knew better to expect anything else, but you were too petrified of being alone with two littles to see it all clearly.

Fortunately though, Tony adored you and had set the three of you up in a cushy upscale home just outside of the bustling city. There was a park on the corner, it was your only safe haven as you waited for the divorce to finalize, it was where you processed your grief over the entire situation, and realized this was always the way life would work out. One day the redhead would be there with you, scooting down the wide, curvy red slide with Carter, and Delilah giggling in her lap.

It was an inevitability of the rawest proportions.

You couldn't stop loving Natasha if you tried, which you halfheartedly did, and she loved you without the intent to stop—fate finally felt the need to intervene.

You felt her burdened gaze the moment you entered the party, and you were burning under the weight of it. There was a blip of fear that she would never forgive you for keeping her daughter from her, but you also figured she'd understand. If you were going to work as a couple, it had to be without Ryan's interference, and they were hellbent on making sure you weren't happy even though they were with Rochelle, the supermodel.

If you so much as contacted Natasha they were ready to claim this was always your plan. Not that they'd have much of a leg to stand on, but you weren't risking them winning so much as partial custody, simply because it was just to spite you. Ryan never wanted to be hands on, it seemed they more so liked the title of being a parent and spouse, but never the actual role. If they had won you know your son would only suffer.

Disappointed was an understatement, but you didn't hold pity for yourself because everyone warned you of their immaturity from the jump. Natasha warned you everyday leading up to the wedding, she pleaded with a hurt that broke your heart wide open, yet you were stubborn, and now you are right where you deserve.

The fear of a harsh reaction held you back from approaching her, hearing an 'I told you so' or a 'what did you expect to happen?' wasn't exactly something you could handle. Even if it was what you deserved, so, you decided to leave it to her. You wanted to give her the chance to take the first step in case she was only seeking to scream at you for breaking her heart and never returning any of her calls or texts, and oh yeah, for the icing on the fucked up cake you'd baked you would have to add keeping her child from her.

Natasha couldn't focus on anything but you since you had arrived though, she actively willed you to look up at her, but she soon realized you were purposefully ignoring meeting her gaze. The ill advised thought that even when single that you wouldn't want her around broke her spirit down into nothingness.

Was she really not good enough for you?

Who was she kidding? Of course she wasn't... You were clean of a harsh origin, with a compassionate aura that bled right into your ability to be an amazing mother. Natasha wanted kids, yours specifically, but with her cold upbringing she feared she would never be what they would need, and in turn she would let you down.

Natasha didn't get to linger in her sadness for long before Maria was nudging her shoulder. "For fucks sake Romanoff, could you at least pretend to be interested in my plights?" She was reminded of the riveting conversation she'd been engaged in moments prior with a raging Maria and an instigating Wanda. Her silly relationship problems with Danvers no longer interested her when she was faced with her very own problems rooted in an extended period of longing.

Natasha rolled her eyes, and adjusted her pants to better conceal the hard on she was suddenly sporting. You just looked too good, motherhood had only ever enhanced your beauty, her purest desires for you only surplussed after your son's birth. It pained her so that you'd lived like your beauty was lost due to a miracle, and it was that night that she showed you otherwise.

The night she gave actual life to her love...

Ryan had made the first distasteful comment, it was why you were at the compound that day after all. Using the free gym six months out from your son's birth, which was fine, but you were indeed overdoing it since you had a bad back, and it was Nat who stopped you.

"Y/N, you need to take it easy, you like just had a baby," she'd tried to help, but you glared at her with angry tears in your eyes. "It's fine Nat, I need to do this. I am literally in terrible shape, I am so ug—," you'd muttered in obvious frustration, but she didn't dare let you finish your sentence. She took you right there on the mat, then again in the showers, and finally she took you to her bed and gave you all of her love.

That wasn't the start of your sinful relations, but it was the beginning of the deep lines officially blurring. Where the love the two of you felt for the other was finally released through breathy moans, soft kisses and the heat of the moment filling of your barren womb.

Every time you didn't see the beauty in your body she did, and she reminded you so well... It was not a shock to you when you saw the test; more like a total relief.

Natasha obviously knew something happened, it changed everything for her, because you and her best friend, Carter, were no longer coming around. The redhead actually sobbed on his first birthday, and she still has all the gifts she bought for him in her closet.

Wanda followed her best friend's gaze to you, and she smiled sadly. The witch was the first person you came crying to over the news, and it hurt her heart to keep this secret from Nat, but she knew that today was the day it all changed. You were going to make it all right.

Your divorce was finalized after Tony's lawyer put Ryan in their place. The open marriage was their choice, you had proof that they pushed you into agreeing, so the judge deemed your daughter's paternity a natural consequence. Now that they lost, they moved outside of city limits with their younger lover, and you contently remained in the upper-scale house, the one that didn't burden you with memories.

"Go talk to her Nat," Wanda encouraged, "Take the chance, I promise you it'll at least be cathartic."

Natasha sighed, "She's better off without me."

The redhead kicked up a cloud of dust as she sent one last longing glance your way. Her heart stuttered at the sight. You'd moved, this time her eyes found you leaning back against a table. A soft look in your eye as you watched your giggling son, Carter, clumsily chase Morgan around the field. It'd been awhile since you've been back here so you were involved in a conversation.

The grey sundress you wore was perfectly hugging your curves, and the skirt of it was flowing with the light breeze, giving her a glimpse of the silky skin of your legs beneath. It was tastefully cut, but it still allowed her to see the curve of your swollen, sagging breasts.

Natasha's eyes were focused in on the way you sucked on your popsicle though. Her cock twitched in her boxers as she saw you hollow out your cheeks, her dick longing for the oh so familiar feeling of the gesture. You mindlessly wiped away the sticky mess of artificial juices with your fingers, and her eyes were locked on them, you lifted them to your lips to suck off the sticky mess and it reminded her of that time she'd shoved hers, covered in your shared arousals, down your throat. It was the most intimate moment she'd ever shared with another, and that made her resolve fall.

The redhead couldn't stand any of it anymore, not the ache in her chest, nor her boxers, so she rushed inside the compound, ignoring the awkward stares. The door that slammed afterwards caught your attention.

Tony shoved your arm. "Go after her Y/N!"

You stared down at the stroller, admiring the peace your daughters sleeping face brought as your nervous fingers fidgeted with the strap of the diaper bag. You felt nothing but guilt after a moment though when her little eyes fluttered open to reveal a sea of familiar green. You began to wonder if Natasha would be better off without you since all you seem capable of is hurting her. All she's ever done is pour her love into you, and you actually ghosted her—the perfect woman. The longer you thought it over, the sillier your reasons felt.

Tony invited you over for this barbecue to celebrate his retirement, but you weren't dumb enough to not know why he wanted you to come. Steve, and Natasha were also retiring, the notion that the redhead was giving up this life regardless of you made your skin crawl.

Was she retiring for you? Did she know you are divorced? You knew Tony blabbed a lot, so it wouldn't surprise you if that's how she had found out.

Or was it for herself? She'd earned the right and it was a bit narcissistic to think you played any part here.

Did she have plans to find the life she wanted with someone else since you were a coward? It would only serve you right, you knew you didn't deserve her.

Tony saw the turmoil in your eyes as you picked at the foam, he gently pulled your hands from the stroller, and nodded to the door with a stern expression. "No..."

"Y/N," he sighed, ready to fight you for being a coward, but then his face fell in offense as you spoke, "You are not exactly baby proof Stark." The man scoffed, "You can't be serious, I am a perfectly functional dad!"

You deadpanned, "You are the fun dad to Pep's productive. You have her while Pepper is at a meeting and Morgan's shirt is now on inside out, she's ate off everyone's plate and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, she has a contraption from your lab. My son better..."

Tony immediately took off and you giggled, enjoying the moment of peace just before your daughter began to cry. If only Nat would have waited a minute she'd have seen you pull the tiny redhead from the stroller. It was uncanny how similar to Natasha she was.

Infuriating was more like it really, you carried her for ten excruciatingly long months, and all she got was your hair texture, lip shape, and unfortunately—temper. Everything else was Nat, aside from the blend of her skin tone, it was a beautiful mix of you both.

"What's the matter lyubov'?" You coo'd and pulled the sniffling baby girl to your chest. Unaware of the presence of your former teammates behind you. Wanda beamed at the knowledge of you learning Russian for your daughters sake, she knew Nat would likely cry at the notion too, but Maria merely gasped.

"Oh my gosh, is that Romanoff's?!" Wanda elbowed the nosy woman, at this point she wondered if Maria being the second in command for Shield was a good idea with the way she loved to gossip and tease. "Mhm..."

Wanda's hand fell on your shoulder, you were never much for staying silent, so you simply humming gave way to your obvious anxiety. "She's only crying my dear, because she knows you have unfinished business to tend to." You turned to her with a teary gaze of your own and she used the pad of her thumb to wipe them away in comforting strokes. "Hand me my niece, and go fix things with Natasha dorogoy, it'll be okay."

Delilah instantly stopped crying, her wobbly head turned slightly as she recognized Wanda's voice. The two shared excited smiles, one adorable and gummy, and the other accompanied by the faintest of wrinkles to show a long life lived. Wanda's nose was scrunched as she regarded your daughter with pure elation, and you had no qualms leaving her behind with Wanda.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you passed her off, and Wanda wrapped her arm around your waist to offer you a comforting embrace. "All is forgiven as long as you don't fumble this time. Tell her how you feel, and let her feel it all too, she'll understand and forgive."

You nodded, offering a nervous smile then left in a hurry to get to the woman you wanted to be with for an eternity, hopeful that she still wanted the same as you.

The way to Natasha's room was quick, your muscles remembering the route without any need for a refresher. The path now forever engrained into your heart as the safest one. You pondered knocking, but then you heard the most gut wrenching sobs and felt the urgent need to push the door right open. As you opened the door though you were met with a far different sight than you had anticipated.

The sobs were ones of pure sexual frustration.

"Oh fuck!" You'd gasped at the sound of her raspy voice, the gorgeous redhead was leaning her head against the glass of her vanity as she jerked herself off with a pair of red lace panties that you'd left behind.

Natasha watched you in terror, her stomach tied in a more dreadful knot now that overpowered the arousal she needed to release. Once the shock wore off you stepped in, expression neutral as you shut her door with your foot, then used your powers to lock it.

"Y-Y/N, I can explain," she stuttered as you were silently approaching her. "How about you just let me take over instead, yeah?" Natasha nodded, her mind in a trance of sorts as she allowed you to remove her hand and use your own. The strokes you gave were feather light, but just because it was you she was on edge.

Pre-cum dribbled onto your thumb, and you used it to lube up her cock, and make your hand have a slicker surface to increase speed. You felt your panties dampen the longer you stroked her pulsing shaft, eyes locked in on the way her mouth was hung open, and her moans were raspy, melodious gifts for your ears.

"Y/N," she gritted out your name as her cock twitched with an increased warning, but you abruptly let her shaft go instead, and she sobbed without shame.

Natasha was frustrated with you on so many levels, but this had her feeling embarrassed. The way that she hasn't been able to get off without a piece of you in over a year shameful. Then when she was finally about to climax, with the real thing, you took it from her...

Again—you just kept taking, and taking from her, and now she was unsure if she had anything left to give.

"We need to talk," she rasped angrily and you nodded, but then you dropped to your knees with a wink. "We do need to talk Natasha," you purred her sentiments against the sticky red tip of her cock, reworking her mind into a haze as you prepared to give her head.

"Shall we do it now then?" You asked teasingly, but with your mouth inches from her throbbing member she could only frantically shake her head. "Later," you hotly voiced for her, you kissed her tip then licked her essence up with a soft flick through the sensitive slit.

All Natasha offered was a delayed, husky, "Mmm," too engrossed by the exhilarating sensation of your warm tongue swirling around her shaft as you slowly lowered your head until the tip of your nose brushed against her fuzzy abdomen to say much of anything else.

This was exactly what she needed. You knew it was only a matter of time before you two would have to face the reality. But, for this brief moment in time, you wanted to use your mouth to pleasure her, to soften the blow if you will, as you gave a physical apology.

After proving to yourself that you could still take all of her you pulled back and let her slick dick go with a pop so that you could admire it. While keeping your eyes locked on hers you lowered so you could lick a slow stripe up from her balls, over the underside of her shaft, flicking over the pulsing veins; building her excitement way up until your lips finally wrapped back around her head to give her some overdo pleasure.

"Oh fuck, I've missed your perfect mouth," she cried out, her hand suddenly fell atop of your head and she used all of her strength to still your bobbing so that she could fuck her cock deep down your throat instead. It was never not uncomfortable to be gagged for you, but your dampening panties gave way to the enjoyment.

Natasha felt even hotter as your excess drool pooled at the base of her shaft and slowly dribbled onto her balls. It was like every one of her senses was heightening as she felt as her auburn pubes became matted and clung to her balls. You felt it too, as they swung with each deep thrust and slapped into your sweaty skin.

There was no way the moment could improve, or so she thought, because with a firm tug on her sack, and the hollowing of your cheeks as your throat contracted around her tip she was no longer in control, her release torn from her with a throaty scream that made your arousal increase tenfold, and stain the black carpet.

The familiar taste of her was enough to bring you to the edge of glory, coupled with the way she continued to fuck your throat without so much as a thought to your needs arousing and you found yourself painfully ready to bust. Her cum was inched down your throat with every continued thrust, and you moaned along happily as you continued to suck her dry, all the way up until her member fell flaccid in your mouth.

You were nearly there, your thighs rubbed together just right, but the redhead would be damned if you were to waste your cum on her carpet instead of her readied tongue. "There's no going back after this Y/N," she rasped against the shell of your ear as she pulled you to your feet while tucking her cock back into her briefs. "If I kiss you now, then you are mine for the claiming. Understood?" You hated so much that her glossed eyes shone with immense fear and hurt.

"Do it," you pleaded, a part of you hoping that what you are going to say later doesn't change her promise; you desperately wanted to be hers for good. "Please!"

Natasha gripped you by your hips and pushed you back onto the bed as her lips met yours. Her skilled hands unclasped your bra while her tongue slowly swirled around yours, tasting herself and silently vowing to never let you go a day without being filled by her in someway. All she wanted was to be yours, and make you hers in every sense, and that included breeding you, but not before she gave you the sloppiest head.

"God, you're so hot Y/N!" She practically screamed, the need for emphasis obvious. The way she stared down at your forever changed body with admiration made you want to cry. You gulped as her eyes trailed up to yours, she offered you a loving smile but her heart broke at the sight of your petrification. "Don't lie..."

Natasha was going to kill your ex. One final mark...

"Oh my beautiful girl," she sighed, her hot breath brushed over your slick mound and she admired how your body twitched and arched at the pleasure just a breeze gives to your cunt. She placed a gentle kiss to your clit, but kept moving up instead so she could kiss the stripes that adorned the plush skin of your belly.

"You are the hottest woman around detka," she admitted without any waver in her voice, her nose nudged against the soft skin of your stomach as she wordlessly continued to admire your body and the sacrifice you have made twice now. "I can't wait to etch more of these lines, to stake my claim to your womb."

You whimpered, but something about the sound wasn't rooted in pleasure, so she came back up to hover your face. "What's wrong detka, am I moving too fast?"

You smiled sadly, and shook your head, "No, it's just.. I-I," you couldn't help but to stutter now, "The claim is already yours Natasha, and it always should've been."

You don't regret Carter, how could you? In spite of all the turmoil surrounding him, he was a lovely toddler. With a natural curiosity to keep him fun, but a cautious approach that kept him safe from the lingering dangers of the world. Your son was the definition of perfect, and was never regretted, you merely rebuke Ryan.

"How so?" Natasha challenged, and you gulped, "We divorced because Delilah is yours Nat, our daughter."

"Yeah," she sighed with a sad smile, "But this time I'll be around to help as your body changes, to take care of you as you deserve while carrying my love around."

It stunned you to see nothing but love and solace behind her eyes, she wasn't angry, she was visibly relieved. Which meant this wasn't exactly news to her.

"You knew?" She nodded, and you felt your throat go dry; of course she did, Natasha wasn't regarded as a top tier spy for nothing. You frantically moved to defend your decisions, "I-I wanted to tell you Natty, but I was so scared." Natasha kissed your trembling lips tenderly in an attempt to cut off your anxiety, and for a perfect moment there was nothing but peace.

"I understand," she eventually whispered as she parted from the kiss, "You couldn't be sure of your feelings, you were only six months postpartum when we made her." Her, Delilah, Natasha's precious mini me that she'd yet to meet and the product of a destined love.

"No," you insisted, "Please do understand that I was never confused about my love for you. Every time we made love that ring would burn on my finger like the devil himself possessed it, because the greatest sin I've ever lived was pretending not to be in love with you."

You watched her eyes narrow in confusion and sighed resignedly. "You deserved someone better, I knew I wasn't enough for you. You're a model with a heart of gold, and I'm just a—." You were both momentarily stunned as her hand made contact with your cheek. The both of you blinked back your shock, and after she saw you were okay her eyes completely darkened. "I'm going to kill them Y/N, they deserve despair for ever making you question even an ounce of your beauty."

"Natty no," you pleaded for Carter's sake, "I mean yeah, Ryan wasn't good, but they were a bad I deserved," you saw the way her eyes narrowed and your speech flinched, "I-I am trying to say that you were too good."

"Me?" She scoffed with a twist of pure disgust, "How could I ever be too good for you?! Y/N, you are —."

"You're so beautiful Natasha," you sighed, cutting her off, "I don't even mean your looks, I am appreciative for them, sure, but it's your heart that I adore."

You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face, the veins of her cock pulsed through the thin material of her boxers, felt pulsing against your thigh along to the beat of her racing heart and you knew you'd said the right thing. Natasha's eyes were welling with tears as she leaned in to kiss you, it was tender and not at all foreign, but it was a feeling you'd nonetheless missed.

She always regarded your body with love, even in the more rougher moments, when she'd abuse your body like you'd beg her to, she would whisper her hearts reassuring thoughts. Deep down she always knew you asked for what you thought you deserved, so she gave you it, but not without what she knew you needed too.

"You're so good Y/N," she practically pleaded, her eyes shed hopeful tears that dripped down your temples, "I'm blessed to be in this position with you right now, the mother of my kids," she proudly said, her subtle claim to your son made you sniffle. "You deserve to be loved just like you love everyone else; without limit."

"Natasha," you whimpered, and she pecked your lips. "You're my wildest dream come true; a sight for sore eyes, an absolutely amazing mother, with the physique of a goddess. You are a blessing worthy of worshipping, I can swear to you that there's no one more perfect for me than you detka, you are the love of my life."

"Fuck," you scoffed over a sob, "So damn cheesy..."

Natasha hummed softly, "Can you feel it?" and offered you an amused smile. You blinked up in a daze as she brushed your knuckles over her lips, and you felt her dick twitch against your skin as she husked, "My love."

Your body took her words as a sign to start working towards pleasing her, you were desperate to feel it wholly. Natasha threw an arm around your waist as her back arched, securing you to her as she thrusted up involuntarily and reached a prime point of pleasure that made you both scream, yours shrill and hers a rasp. The way her throbbing tip was rubbed raw as her briefs smeared your arousal around your clit had you both already breathless, it took everything in her not to enter you then. If not for her desperation to taste what she'd been missing she would've given in instantly.

"Natty please," you tried, but ultimately failed, her raspy voice denied your pleasure, "Not yet, I need to return the favor first, I miss having your taste on my tongue and smelling you on my lips hours later."

It infuriated your cunt, who's hollowed walls clenched with need, but in the same breath her tone turned you on beyond belief, to not only feel, but to hear just how affected she was by her lusty desires centered around eating you out alone had your legs naturally spreading.

"There's my good girl," she praised against the plushness of your thigh, her tongue laid flat as she slowly licked up the essence coating your skin on a scandalous route to the grand prize, your oozing core.

Or better known to her as paradise.

After teasing you enough, with abrasive nibbles and her tongues follow up soothing caresses she felt it was about time to give you exactly what you both needed. Her lips twitched as she purposefully breathed your arousal in, and you choked in contrast when she lunged forward and began to eat your puffy pussy out.

There was no more gentle, loving Natasha; her eyes blackened, the carnality shown she was nothing short of feral, the filthy moans vibrating you into an orgasm as her tongue lapped at your core proof enough. But, for the sake of imagination, picture as if she was actually outside right now. Forced to participate in the watermelon eating contest, her hands tied behind her back and her face hovered over the three thick pieces on her plate; she'd beat both Sam and Bucky in record time, twelve seconds—four per slice, and still have enough time to make you scream around the corner, pinned to a wall while the boys struggled to focus.

The Falcon's wings would dip when informed it took him thirty seconds, but not as disappointed as The Winter Soldier who took thirty five. Fortunately for the boys, Natasha was buried in a more fitting place, winning at life as the soldiers tied, but lost to Thor who did it in ten, followed by a burp and plea for more.

You also endlessly pleaded for more, then rather suddenly for less, but inevitably you went unheard as your thighs deprived Natasha of both air and the ability to hear. Yet she kept going, making you scream out her name seconds later, and cream on her tongue.

Natasha felt your thighs relax, and with a firm grip she separated them, digging her nails into the skin as she took in an exaggerated gulp of air. You mewled and threw your head back to avoid her scarily arousing gaze. The both of you knew she was trained to hold her breath for extended periods of time, but it was hot nonetheless for you to witness, and her to pretend.

Truthfully, you internally, always made her breathless, so she was simply emoting. After a moment of you both coming back to your senses Natasha groaned, her red tip brushed against the sticky fabric of her boxers and she was disappointed she came outside of you.

"You always do this Y/N," she groaned, "I can't even help but to fuck the air to the sounds of your cries."

"Sorry," you whimpered, Natasha watched with a smirk as your entire body shivered. Then her face dropped as she realized something, "It just wasted our greatest chance at making a baby Y/N! The first round is the most potent, so now I'll have to fill you twice."

"Delilah is only six months," you panted, your words of concern not matching the clear state of your arousal. "Yeah detka; that means we are, quite frankly, behind."

"Behind?" Natasha nodded as she avoided your gaze to focus down on the mess of her boxers as she took them off and flipped them inside out. "Detka, we don't waste, so finish your treat before you get answers." There was no hesitation as you sucked the cotton fabric clean of her, moaning and soaking through the pair.

"You want this, don't you?" Natasha asked, her confidence dimmed as the fear of rejection emerged. You spit out her boxers and shrieked, "of course I do!"

Natasha hummed, "Then yes my love," as she gently stroked your cheek before pecking it. "We're gravely behind, so let's just call this an efficient way to catch up. I'll overload you on my love, and swimmers."

"Okay," your voice absolutely breathless as you allowed her to pull you up off the bed, having accepted the hand she'd extended out just so she could pull you close and kiss you until your were both breathless.

When you were distracted enough she spun you around and pressed you into the tacky wall with her muscular frame, her hot breaths fanned across your skin and your clit pulsed. She drove you wild, evidence of that being the way that your slick dribbled down the sides of her length that curved beneath your cunt.

"Are you ready to be bred?" Her fingers fondly traced over the marks on your hips. "To be full of my pulsing cock as it busts? I promise I'll leave you beyond full."

"Mommy please," you whined and pushed back with all your might to curve her dick up and into you. "Oh, you know what that does to me detka; you're in for it now."

Natasha pressed her body up, and rocked her hips until she'd smeared enough of your slick onto her length. It was a precautionary measure to ensure you minimal pain as she never failed to stretch you to your limits.

"Fuck mommy, you're so big," you mewled as her tip barely pressed into you, the redhead chuckled and slammed her hips forward, swiftly bottoming out and causing your body to lurch painfully into the wall. "Mmm, mommy loves the way you feel wrapped so tightly around me detka, suffocating my dick like the filthy whore that you are." She sloppily pecked your cheek. "This is right where you belong."

"Wanna stay like this forever," you sighed contentedly as your heated cheek brushed against the chilled wall with each shallow thrust she rewarded you with.

"That can be arranged," she rasped into your ear as her hips began to move a bit more. "Nobody else will ever get to see you like this again," she added, her growl and grip possessive as she picked up a pace you never could keep up with. Enhanced as you were with powers, the strength and stamina were all more Natasha's forte; fucking you limp a cherished specialty of hers.

"Nobody has seen me since you," you cleared the air in a dizzy slur, and felt as she prematurely shot into you, but Natasha recovered her composure fast and continued to fuck you while holding back her orgasm.

"Because this pussy is mine," she grunted, her hips now swirled with each thrust as she sought out your sole pleasure. Hearing that you were celibate in her absence a major ego boost as she rammed her fat cock into your spongey sensitivity with each precise jolt of her body into yours and pulled out those glorious supporting moans of a job well done. "Say it!"

"All yours mommy," you cried out sharply as her finger rapidly swirled against your swollen bud. "Damn straight," she groaned as she twitched and spasmed against your quivering walls. "Fucking hell, I'm going to fill you to the brim," she groaned against the base of your neck as she hastily pounded your body up against the wall.

Her hands gripped the fluff of your hips and fully drove her pelvis into your backside so that she could push you over the edge. "I'm so close mommy, please." Natasha obliged your pleas with a swift plan, her tongue teasingly licked the shell of your right ear, "Go on then sweetheart," her free hand moved to grope your breasts that leaked nonstop with warm milk while the other hand continued to stimulate your needy clit. "Let go and drench my cock; make a mess of me."

"Oh, oh, oh shit," you shrieked as you felt the coil within you snap into jagged pieces of pleasure. Nicking every inch of your body—setting your nerves ablaze. Pins and needles lasted for a perceivable eternity as you swore and soon enough you moaned a chorus as she fucked you through the toe curling orgasm.

Natasha shifted your bodies with ease, her cock still driving into your needy hole as she carried you over to lay your front down on the bed, she kept shallowly thrusting, but her strained cock managed to hold out. Even though she wanted to stay true to her words, she continued to hold back her own release for you.

"Your moans are my favorite," she whispered amusedly against the skin of your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss there, and thrusting in deep, pulling sultry cries from the depths of your needy soul. Only to then suddenly pull out so that she could admire your bare backside while calming her need to breed you.

Her hands groped the skin of your sore ass, you whined as her cold fingers trailed over the already bruising skin, tempering the sting from her hips prior assaults. "Daddy please," you whimpered, and she dug her nails into the skin. "Stop being so impatient detka, we're making up for lost time here—be a good girl, and don't rush the process."

"Sorry mommy," you whimpered, and though she couldn't see you she smiled at the remembrance of your usual pout. "There you go," she praised, "Always so good for me baby, I promise that I will never tire of having you like this," she paused, lining her tip back up with your dripping entrance, "Spread wide open as your pretty, puffy cunt devours my shaft."

That was the only warning you had before she slid her thickness back inside of you and began to give you the type of strokes that made your spine shiver; slow, and deep enough that you could feel your guts shifting.

You whimpered softly, "Fuck, I'm already so close again..." Natasha chuckled, "I know, I can feel you trembling detka, fuck, your walls are squeezing me so tight." The redhead stilled for just a second, much to your bodies dismay too, you pressed your ass back and your cunt somehow sucked her in even deeper. It took everything in her not to bust, but she wanted to be truly levelheaded about this before she lost control.

Two kids under two was no easy feat, to be ready for a third required a sure mentality. It was your body after all, talk all she wanted of her possession of your body, that was only in part true. You were in charge of what she did next, whether that be to cum inside you, or to release her potent load onto your back. Either way she'd be satisfied, and all she really wanted was you to be happy with the overall outcome too.

"Want to carry my baby again detka?" Her lips gently pressed into the skin of your shoulder, the moment was far less sexually charged, she gently marked your surrounding skin up while patiently waiting for your eventual, labored response. "Please..."

"Are you sure?" Natasha doubled down, her cock twitched in anticipation for your final reply. "Yes," you were breathless, "Please, just breed me already! Wanna be full of you." Natasha hummed, then picked her pace up, she still reached your greatest depths, but this time she went much faster—leaving you to moan nonstop.

"Gonna fill you until I'm sure I've succeeded," she rasped confidently after a moment of nothing other than listening to skin slapping, and juices sloshing. "Then I'll fuck you from the back every month and feel the way your body changes for our fetus," she placed a sloppy wet kiss behind the shell of your ear and your body shuddered as your walls clamped down on her thick shaft. "Fuck, I heard that pregnancy makes you even hornier detka. Maybe I'll hit it every night. I'll destroy this pussy before the birth ever could."

"Fucking hell Natasha," you shrieked, but it faded into a low pitched moan as the tip of her spurting cock hit that glorious spot deep within that blurred your vision. It happened just as she pressed her wandering hand against the bulge pushing your stretched skin back out.

Your vision blacked out, your cheek pressed into the sheets harshly as the redhead continued to thrust against your pussy's tight resistance to prolong your orgasms and to also allow your walls to effectively milk her cock, ensuring maximum breeding efficiency.

When even she couldn't take anymore she fell into your backside a panting mess. "You did so good," she reassured you, her hands tight grip on your hips loosened so she could stroke your sides instead as you both took a moment to regulated your systems.

After a few moments Natasha became restless, her stamina bouncing back fast as she rose up and slid out of you, leaving behind a sticky mess of your arousals as she did; her clean sheets never stood a chance. It was a moment of total joy for her to watch as your pussy contracted, sensitive walls pushing the excess of her cum from you a sight worthy of marveling. The way it bubbled and popped was absolutely mesmerizing...

There was hardly a lull in her cocks erectness, she stood there still slightly out of breath, with her sticky member inches away from her rock-hard abs in a sweaty glow. Tension held her body captive as she picked her next move. "I want you to ride me detka, bounce on mommy's cock for a bit, suck me dry."

"Mommy, I..." you sighed, "I'm tired."

"I know honey," she coo'd as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, her nimble fingers wrapped around your thigh and teasingly squeezed. "I'll do all the work." With the promise of the needed assistance you slowly shuffled over to her, and threw your leg over her spread set, opening your slick lips back up and allowing her to slip herself back in. You moaned into her shoulder as you felt your mixed slicks gush as your core met the base of her cock at a new, delightful angle.

"Mommy," you called shyly, as if you weren't already in the midst of a raw fucking, your glossy eyes fell to her lips, and she shook her head in amusement as she chuckled, "Come on detka, take what you need."

The way you kissed her every single time was how she knew your feelings for her went beyond that of lust. It was always soft, and sensual with a sense of urgency. Sometimes she felt like you were out to devour her entirely, and if you were, she wouldn't even mind. To be taken out by your lips on hers sounds heavenly.

"Oh god," you whimpered, overrun by a pleasure only she could offer you, her hands on your hips guided you, but she let you control the kiss. "I need you all the time Natty," you panted harshly against her lips as you only briefly disconnected them. "I can't get off without you. Not even listening to your old voicemails work."

"You'll never need to again detka," she growled, hands possessive as they pulled your body back down by your hips to meet her desperate thrusts, "I'll fill you up every day if that's what you need—mhm, yeah; this pussy of mine will never have time to miss me."

"Please..." you begged as your lips left hers so your head could fly back in pleasure, and your hands clawed at her neck, leaving behind angry red lines. Natasha's breath stalled, the grip she had on your hips tightened, then she dropped you mid lift because of how dizzy she felt with the way that your walls squeezed her shaft every damn time it left your warmth. Your face fell to her neck, lips latching onto her pulse point, and with you working to claim her too she busted. The warmth of her seed splattered against your walls, again, the stream nudged your g-spot with a firm flow, joined by the harsh slam of her tip; it was all too much, and in some strange way it never felt like it was enough.

Arousal gushed all over the redheads skin, and slowly dripped down the oak bed frame, polishing it anew.

The way your combined releases ran down from her abdomen and saturated the skin of her balls made her body tense as she produced even more of her seed. Natasha hadn't stopped thrusting, in fact she flipped your body onto the bed, and sent you into another wave of pleasure, and your mind to another dimension.

It had been exactly fourteen months, and ten days since she last felt as her cock rearranged your insides so she wasn't ready to stop. Natasha panted against your neck as she kept fucking your unconscious body.

Eventually she fell semi-flaccid, and her breath was so erratic she had to stop her body from continuing to ram into you. Even if the urge persisted, you were more than fucked out, so she was mostly satisfied. There's no way her diet super soldier swimmers weren't going to fulfill their duty. If the redhead is lucky she'll get a two for one reward. She can't wait to be waiting on you hand and foot. There'd never be a night you went to bed hungry, or uncomfortable.

You'll carry her kids, and she'll carry the rest of the burdens that come with life. The redhead admired your still face, your eyes tracked behind your lids, and your even, cool breaths fanned across her warm face. This was what she believed bliss to be at its core.

Natasha gently slid right on out of you, but it didn't last long before she was sheathed within your velvety warmth again. After you awoke she'd kissed you tenderly, and as her tongue explored your mouth you reached down to pump your hand up and down her cock, it was loud and wet, your hand growing sticky with your mixed arousals and her body shuddered.

"Inside," you breathed in a fit against her lips, she chuckled in disbelief at your needy behavior, and happily guided her cock to your entrance and watched as your walls sucked her in and your wetness gushed all over. "Oh fucking hell detka," Natasha groaned as her fingers flexed against your hips, "Eto ray."

(this is heaven)

"Mhm," you softly hummed your agreement, your hazy eyes fluttered open a moment later as you cheekily smirked up at her. "That dick game is god tier Natty."

Natasha rolled her eyes, then chuckled against your skin as she happily burrowed her face into your neck. All of the lust had faded, for now, and all that was left was to soak in the fact that this was finally happening.

Nothing could ruin the moment, well, almost nothing.

Your phone dinged about half an hour later, and if not for being a mom you'd have ignored it. You lazily lifted it from her nightstand. A soft giggle left you as Natasha grumbled in annoyance at the shift of her cock that was still inside of you. The woman turned her head on your chest and peered at your phone suspiciously only to see that it was lit up with an innocent text from Wanda.

Shall I take the kids back to mine ? 👀♥️

"Tell her to wait," Natasha pleaded, then in a rush she jumped up, leaving you hollow and raced into the shower. You did as told, then followed behind, and the two of you tenderly, yet speedily cleaned the other off.

Wanda sat in the living area with Carter asleep on her bump, and with Delilah laying on the play mat below her, happily kicking her feet. You quietly moved to sit beside your best friend, and watched with a smile as the love of your life cautiously approached your child.

"Hello there moya malen'kaya lyubov'," she was so soft spoken as she spoke to Delilah that you almost didn't recognize her voice. Tears brimmed your lids as you watched the way that your daughter lit up at hearing the spoken Russian, of course Natasha noticed too.

(My littlest love)

"Detka," she whimpered, and looked up into your eyes "Do you speak to her in Russian?" You nodded and sent her a playful wink to cover your emotional gaze. Natasha however turned stone cold serious as she said: "YA sobirayus' sdelat' tebya svoyey zhenoy."

(I'm going to make you my wife)

Wanda giggled from beside you when you frowned and looked to your love with a pout. Natasha smirked this time and winked back, "We'll work on your Russian, then we'll return to that phrase when you understand."

"Oh," you chuckled softly, "I understood, I just expected a first date, then the fat diamond ring."

You turned away from your blushing lover, and scooped your son off of Wanda. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not leaving you with my two gremlins when you already have two growing inside of you." Wanda went to protest but you leaned into her ear to whisper: "The walls at my place are soundproof..."

You walked away with a proud smirk as the women sat there with collective reddened cheeks. Wanda left a moment later with a kiss left on your daughter's cheek, and a rush in her wobble. Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly at your daughter, "Tvoyu mat' ne zrya prozvali 'Ubiytsey'" Delilah tilted her head, and Natasha was perturbed by Wanda's obvious influence.

(Your mother wasn't nicknamed "Killer" for nothing)

"Detka, where are we going?" She asked as she trailed behind you with a curious infant sat atop of her hip. "Home," you replied flatly then turned around with a contradicting grin. "You ready to shack up darling?"

"I don't know," Natasha teased, "that's a lot of responsibility to place upon a free flyer like me."

"Then I guess," you were cut off by a kiss that left you speechless, yet slightly humming as you grinned against her plush lips. "You've been tamed by a," she cut you off again with a peck and answer: "Beautiful, perfect in all of the ways that count, sexy ass milf."

"You're such a hopeless romantic," you teased, and she matched your grin with a suave lift of the mood. "I'm never hopeless with you Y/N, just soft, and absolutely, undeniably in love with you."

"Jeez Nat, keeping charming my pants off and we'll literally end up with a baseball team." The redhead chuckled, "A team of tiny assassins and witches," then sidled up to you, and slid her free hand into yours in perfect rhythm. "You're insane." Natasha swung your connected hands and grinned up like a devil. "I sure am crazy for you, so yeah, I'll claim it." She winked slowly and snorted when you glared, it was entirely heatless and she knew it.

Then to make the moment all the more special she leaned forward and smiled at your son. "Hi there sweet boy, I'm," she went to introduce herself but the nearly two year old interrupted her excitedly, "Mama!" Natasha was stunned and you elated to see it was a good thing, her eyes lit up with so much love, and she dropped your hand so that she could snatch Carter right from you. "Hey! You already have a baby!"

"You hush," she hissed playfully, then you saw her eyes glisten as he nuzzled right into her neck like she was safe and she emotionally whispered to him in Russian: "Moy ideal'nyy syn, ya budu lyubit' tebya bez ogranicheniy."

(My perfect son, I will love you without limits)

"Moya dragotsennaya Dalila, ya nauchu tebya vsem svoim znamenitym dvizheniyam," she placed a gentle kiss to her face. Then her gaze turned to you as you scoffed, "Not happening if she takes after me for once."

(my precious delilah, I will teach you all my famous moves)

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you," she turned around and came to a sudden stop. Forcing you to nearly bump into her, but she took a smooth step back with a stupidly hot smirk on her face. "I could never." Natasha leaned in and kissed your lips with a precise tenderness. "I love you, and I plan to for the rest of my life," you blurted, stealing her thunder but she loved the sudden declaration of yours more than her own repeated ones. "I'm so glad you're the one who almost got away, because I'd forever be lost without you."

"My rodstvennyye dushi," she whispered as she pecked your tear tracked cheeks, "Ty byl moyey sud'boy," this time she was pressed against your lips. Then she pulled back with a smile as she continued to speak as her lips met her sleeping babies faces. "Oni nashe naslediye." Then she perfectly crouched without jostling the kids to kiss the skin of your tummy. "For good luck."

(We are soulmates / You were my destiny / Them our legacy)

——

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earthchica · 1 month ago

Text

Right My Wrongs | 3

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: You and Terry's daughter, Jasmine, convince you to give him another chance and try to work things out.

warning: explicit smut (18+), angst, mention of nightmare, light submissive! terry, unprotected sex, foreplay, oral (f), squinting, hand job, choking, spanking, pet names { baby, baby girl, sweet girl}

note: the last part will be out soon; thanks again for your love for this mini-series. <3

series masterlist

You were staring out of the window, thoughts drifting away from this place and your heart elsewhere.

It's been at least a week, and you haven't been the same since Terry confessed his love and begged for another chance that night.

You tried to move on as if you didn't care, but you cared too damn much that it was affecting your relationship with Marcus.

You couldn't stop thinking about Terry that you had broken up with Marcus.

You wish Terry didn't have this hold on you. You wish you didn't love him, but the heart wants what it wants, and there's no stopping that.

You were lost in your thoughts when Jasmine's cry snapped you back to reality.

You hurried upstairs and entered her bedroom, where she was trapped in a nightmare—this had happened frequently.

"Sweetie, wake up," you gently said, wrapping her in your arms and giving her a slight shake to awaken her.

Jasmine opened her tear-filled eyes and exclaimed, "MOMMY? He didn’t turn around?"

Your heart sank as you asked, "Who, baby?"

"Daddy. He walked away because you pushed him away. You took him from me. Why? We need him; you need him," Jasmine cried, her words shattering your heart.

"Oh, baby...I’m sorry...I know the last few months have been hard, but I would never take your daddy away from you. Sometimes, we have to make choices that are hard to understand, but it doesn't mean we don't love you," you reassured her, gently stroking her back.

"Your daddy loves you so much, and so do I. We're both here for you, even if things are slightly different now."

Jasmine sniffled, nodding slightly as you held her close.

"But why can't we all be together as a family?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"It's complicated, sweetheart," you replied softly.

"How, Mommy? You love him, and he loves you. You two can make it work if you really want to. Are you just scared?" she asked, curious.

"I do...I do love him, and yes, a little."

"Don’t be scared, Mommy. I believe you and Daddy can make it work again. Can you at least promise to try for me?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in your heart.

"I promise I will try, sweetie," you replied, stroking her back one more.

"Just know if it doesn't go as well. We are still a family, no matter what. Families can look different and still be filled with love. We'll always find ways to be together, even if it's different."

She sighed, her tiny body relaxing a bit under your comforting embrace.

"Okay, Mommy, but you should invite Daddy over so you two can talk through it," she suggested, her eyes flickering with hope.

"Sure, Sweetie. Now come on, go back to sleep." you smiled, kissing gently on her forehead.

Jasmine nodded, a small smile forming as she nestled her head against your shoulder.

"Mommy, I love you."

"I love you too, baby," you said. You stayed with her for a little bit, watching her peacefully fall back asleep.

The situation is complicated, but maybe it's time to stop fooling yourself.

You always be in love with Terry, and you just hoped he still felt the same after you rejected him.

You and Terry needed to get y'all shit together for the sake of Jasmine's emotional well-being, as it was negatively impacting her.

With a deep breath, you tucked her in securely, then gently kissed her forehead before quietly leaving the room.

You paced back and forth through the living room, nerves getting the best of you.

Jasmine was at your parents' house for the day, and Terry was supposed to be here an hour ago.

You feared he wouldn't show up until you heard a knock on the front door.

You hurried to open the door, and he stood there looking tall and anxious.

You hadn't made much effort to see him whenever he came to pick up Jasmine, so this was your first time seeing him in a week.

His eyes told you everything you needed to know; Terry looked utterly heartbroken.

He still looked handsome, but the slight dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept in days.

"Hi, Terry. Thanks for coming. Uh, come in," you said, stepping aside to allow him to enter the house.

"Where's Jazzy?" He asked, scanning the area, searching for her while maintaining a cautious distance from you.

"Uh...she's at my parents. I didn't call you for her; I called because I wanted to talk to you," you said, moving towards your leather couch.

"About what?" He asked with a frown, finally looking at you with his pretty eyes.

"You and me; please come and sit," you said, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch.

Terry took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and approached the couch.

He sat down next to you, and both of you sat silently, tension building between you until you broke it.

“I miss you, Terry.”

“Oh, really? What happened with you and ol' boy? It didn’t work out, huh?” He asked in a bitter tone.

You moved closer to him on the couch. “Don’t be like that, you know you miss me too...I can see it in your eyes.”

You reach out to touch his scruff cheek, expecting him to pull away, but he immediately leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

A smirk spread across your face as you leaned in to kiss his stubbled cheek, savoring the sensation of the little hairs tickling your lips.

Terry opened his eyes and gazed into yours. There seemed to be a lot going through his mind.

“You got me down bad, girl. I-I do miss you; even after you rejected me, I couldn't stop thinking of you. You hurt me a little bit, but I deserve it. I meant what I said before: I love you. I'm in love with you, baby girl, and I would do whatever it takes for another chance," Terry says sincerely.

“Then this is your chance to show me the best you know how. Fuck me like you never want to lose me again,” You said, leaning your forehead against his.

Terry didn't have to be told twice before he kissed you passionately, pulling you closer.

You both felt up each other's bodies, his hands grabbed your waist and pulled you to his lap.

Your tongues still danced swiftly with each other; Terry pulled away and began planting soft, lingering kisses on your neck.

"Terry!" you whined, feeling shivers down your spine. He lifted you and carefully laid you in the corner of the couch.

His gaze never left yours; he knelt down and pulled down your leggings, causing you to bite your lip.

"Shit...looks like this kitty misses me too? It's so wet, just waiting to be devoured" he asked in his sexy, deep voice.

"Yes...Terry! Now fucking eat it," You growled, pulling your soaking panties off before throwing them on his face, which made him chuckle.

You gasped, watching him lick at the wetness of your panties before tossing them to the side.

"Of course, beautiful. She's calling me," He said, kissing your inner thigh before slightly spreading your legs for him to lick up at your center, leaving you tingly.

You moaned in great pleasure, feeling him diving in like a hungry man, tongue thrusting in and out of you.

You gripped your plump breast firmly with your right hand while the other held the back of his head.

"So good, Terry. It feels good; eat this pussy Daddy" Legs rested on his shoulders as you whined, feeling him slurping hungrily at you.

It felt so damn good,

"Mmmm...you taste so sweet, baby." He moans before his fingers rub at your clit in rhythm to his licks.

Your pussy walls tightened as he pushed a finger inside of you, and your wall clenched around that finger.

His fingers were thrusting in and out of the right places, his tongue licking and sucking the life out of you.

"I bet he never made you feel like this, huh? Got you shaking and shit," he asked; his muffled words sent pleasure up your spine.

You threw your head, arching your back while a loud moan left you as you felt yourself getting close to climax.

"Ahh, never....Terry! You're the only man that makes me feel like this, the only man. Oh my...I'm gonna cum" You cried, feeling him focus all of his sucking your swollen, sensitive clit.

“That's right. Come on, baby, cum for me” He says, feeling you clutch onto his head.

"Oh my god, Oh my…" You cut yourself off, feeling you cum harder than you have in a very long time.

"Mmm, that's so good," Terry says with a smirk as your juices are all over his face, which makes you giggle.

You and Terry removed the rest of the clothes you two wore, and you gasped, looking down at the sight of his big, throbbing dick.

It was much bigger than you remember, your mouth began drooling at the sight of it.

Terry began stroking himself before guiding it to slide up against your center.

You gently bit your lip and let him go for a moment, then stopped him and flipped him down onto the couch on his back.

Trail open-mouthed kisses along his neck, pausing to suck a hickey into his caramel skin.

You pulled away and took hold of both of his hands firmly, in one hand looking at him with a little bit of dominance.

"This dick is mine, right, Terry? No one else," You asked, looking into his eyes while firmly gripping his thickness in your hand.

Terry gazed at you with adoration and a hint of submissiveness. He understands your need for this, and he allowed it.

"Fuck, yes, baby, all yours. This dick is only for you," He said desperately, his tone conveying a desire for more from your hand.

"Nah...I need a little more than that, big daddy. You want this pussy; gotta beg for it," You whispered in his ear, slowly stroking him up and down.

"Baby, fuck, I need that pussy; I'mma crave it. Please, baby, what I gotta go," Terry pleaded intensely and urgently.

You could tell that he was enjoying just as much as you were, loving the desperation and needy look on his face.

"tsk tsk, tsk. I don't know, Terry," you said with a shrug, still stroking him but faster.

"Fuck, please...I need you so bad, baby girl fuck me, take whatever you want; I just need to feel that pretty pussy of yours," He moans profoundly and passionately.

You smiled, letting go of his hands before kissing him. You pulled away, sliding down on his dick, causing both of us to moan.

"Fuck, baby. You feel so good gripping my fucking dick with that pussy," Terry moaned, gripping your waist and watching you move up and down his member slowly.

You stop your movement, causing him to let out a low growl, and you giggle.

"I need you to fuck me, Terry. Fuck me until I forget my fucking name!" You whispered in his ear, and he lost it.

He began pounding, gripping your ass cheeks with both of his hands, lifting you up and down his dick.

You gripped thin air gasping, enjoying every minute of his dick pounding up inside your dripping, wet pussy.

Terry moved his hands to your waist, getting a better rhythm with his thrusting.

He smacked your ass in a harsh motion, "Just like this, right baby?"

"Fuck, yes, just like that, Daddy, oh fuck." You cried, throwing your head back, placing your hands on his chest.

Your plump breasts bounced wildly with every up and down motion.

Terry kisses you before wrapping his strong arms around your legs and lifting you from the couch.

His lustful eyes met your eyes dangerously while pounding in and out of you with this lift.

You can't help but chant his name out in a loud moan at the amazing sensation.

It might have been a minute, but Terry knew your body so well and understood what you wanted.

"I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, right?” He asked, panting heavily while holding your arm to your back.

“Yes, the only one, Daddy....ahh shit, fuck me," You cried, feeling yourself get a little emotional.

"Fuck, you're the best I ever had, you know that baby. I'mma treat you right this time cause you deserve the world" Terry says, kissing you, stopping his thrusting for a minute to lay you on your back on the couch.

Terry pulls away to hold both of your legs open, using them to help him thrust deep back into your pussy.

You moaned, licking your fingers, and started rubbing your clit in circles motion while looking deeply into his eyes.

"Ahhh, yes fuck me, Daddy! Ahhh, yes," You moaned, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

You unexpectedly felt a gust of fluid come out of you, making Terry pull out.

Your body was trembling from another intense climax that he had just given you.

"Shhh, I've gotcha ya, baby," He whispered, leaving small kisses on your neck.

Terry strokes your face softly, kissing your lips while watching you slowly come down from your high.

He kisses you again before turning your body around to face down on the arm of the couch with your ass up.

"Mmmm...Terry" You moaned, trying to plead with him, still trying to get your breathing under control.

"I'm getting much out of this pussy; I can, baby, you can do it." He says, thrusting hard into you.

He grabbed your box braids and fisted in one hand while he snapped his hips into your rear.

“Terry…fuck.” You whimpered, holding onto the couch arm for dear life.

He is determined to make you cum for a third time, so he keeps on pounding into you like a man on a mission.

“Take it, baby, take all over this dick,” Terry moans, grabs your neck, and tilts your head to look at him, arching your back harshly.

Your sweet spot gets hit repeatedly by his dick, making you clench around him and feel yourself closer to the edge.

"Fuck, baby, that's right....you wanna cum again, don't you? Clenching that dick for it," He asked, and you couldn't even form the words.

Tears began to fall from your eyes; it was too much to speak; it felt so damn good.

"Go ahead, baby girl, come on, cum on his dick, it's yours. Remember, make a mess, give it all to your daddy, sweetie." Terry moans, hammering his hips faster into your cunt.

"Terry" You screamed out his name, trembling as if you felt yourself cum on his dick.

"That's my sweet girl," He groaned, pulling out for a second, slapping his dick against your sensitive clit.

Terry pushes back in, three more deep thrusts, and cums with a low grunt, filling you up.

A few minutes later, he withdrew, lifted you up, and took you to the bathroom to clean up.

The two of you lay intertwined on the bed, bare and reveling in the delightful intimacy you two just shared.

"Hey," he called, glancing down at you. You sat up slightly, meeting his gaze with hope and vulnerability.

"I love you, baby, and I know I gotta lot work to do. I want to be better; I will be better. For you, for Jasmine, and for us," he said earnestly.

“I know...Terry...I believe you.” You said, reaching out and touching his cheek.

"We can figure this out one step at a time. It won't be easy, but I will try if you are."

"Of course," Terry nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He gently squeezed your hand on his cheek.

You both knew it would take a lot of time and effort, but you remained hopeful about the possibility of healing and growth.

#rebel ridge #aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond angst #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond smut

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

mistakes and regrets

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, aged up!rafe, dad!rafe and mom!reader, seperated parents/coparenting, p in v sex (but they dont finish), angsty but fluffy ending

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

"hey, baby girl!" rafe smiles, picking up your daughter and twirling her around. "well don't you look so cute in your new dress." he nuzzles his face against hers, pressing kisses along her cheeks.

"hey y/n." rafe greets you with a smile as well, setting your daughter down and coming to take the bags out of your hands, carrying them inside.

you take your daughters hand and walk in together, pushing down your nerves to put a smile on your face.

"thanks for letting us stay here while the apartment is getting redone." you say, watching as rafe sets your bags along the hallway.

"no problem." rafe says, clearing his throat. it's been so long since you've shared a house together. rafe usually gets your daughter on weekends, and you take care of her at your apartment during the week while he's working.

it wasn't a one time hookup that resulted in your daughter, but it wasn't exactly a relationship either. your bodies were so compatible, and you tried to make it work when you became pregnant, but it was just too hard on both of you, so for your daughters sake, you decided to cut the toxicity and coparent with seperate places.

"come on, izzy, let's show mommy your new toy." rafe ushers your daughter up the stairs, helping her navigate her new skill. izzy just turned two, and is still getting the hang of her movements.

you follow them up the stairs, looking at the house you used to know so well. you smile when you see the inside of izzys room, it's been almost a year since you've been inside of it, and its been updated with a brand new bed, and stocked full with toys. rafe obviously spoils his daughter, but you already knew that from how much extra he gave you in child support each month, allowing you to not have to work to support her. you still choose to work at a local cafe on the weekends, mainly because your friend runs it and you like to help out. it keeps you busy as well when you're away from your daughter.

"mommy, look!" izzy holds up a brand new barbie doll, and you ooo and ahh over it as she continues to show you all the toys that she keeps at her daddys house. you sit down on the tiny toddler sized couch in her room, smiling at rafe as he crosses his arms and watches from the door, loving seeing how precious his daughter is.

once izzy is done going through everything, you head back down the stairs for dinner. you love to cook with izzy, giving her easy little tasks that she can do with your supervision. you know how important it is to start teaching her these things young, and how good it is for her development.

you move throughout the kitchen with rafe with ease, like you never had all that time spent apart. once everything is in the oven or simmering on the stovetop, you move to lift izzy into her high chair in the dining room, but rafe stops you. "i got it." he smiles gently, placing her in the seat and securing the tray.

"this is nice." you hum softly, keeping an eye on izzy out of the corner of your eye as she drinks her milk out of a sippy cup.

"it is. we should do family dinners more often." you and rafe get along decently well, but it also hurts you to be around him constantly. you feel guilty that you aren't giving izzy the life you had growing up with two steady, in love parents.

"we should." you just say in agreement, helping rafe plate the dishes before moving back to the table.

the dinner goes by well, izzy never letting an awkward silent moment happen as she chats away, even though most of it is intelligible baby babble along with her speaking with a mouth full of food.

you settle down on the couch with izzy after, cuddling her as a movie plays on the tv while rafe cleans up from dinner. you both decided a relaxing day would be best, considering you're deviating from her normal schedule by staying at rafes for the entire week while your apartments wood floors are redone. the complex offered to put you up in a hotel, but you knew izzy would be more comfortable at rafes, even if you found it awkward. you'd do anything for your daughter.

"somebody is getting tired." rafe says with a smirk as he enters the living room, seeing izzy resting against you, slowly blinking at the tv.

"daddy." izzy perks up slightly, crawling across the couch to where he sits down.

"come on, mommy." izzy becons you with her hand, wanting to cuddle with both her parents. you can't deny what your little girl wants, schooching across the couch to sit next to rafe, izzy sat half on your thigh and half on his.

you keep your back pin straight, your leg the only part of your body touching rafes, but as the movie continues, you find yourself leaning back against the couch, rafes arm coming to wrap around your shoulder.

you can tell that izzy has fallen asleep, but you let yourself lean into rafe, enjoying the comfort of his warmth as the movie draws to a close.

only when the credits finish do you move, wishing you could stay there curled up for longer, as one big unit with izzy.

"ill take her up to bed, stay here." rafe says, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. you just nod, letting rafe pick up your daughter, noting how small she is in his big arms. still your little girl, even though she's gotten so big.

rafe hesitates before he leaves the room, turning to press a kiss to your forehead before exiting. you blush hard, knowing your face must be bright red from the intimate moment.

you stay sat in your seat as you hear rafe descending the stairs and rummaging with something in the kitchen. he comes back into the living room with two glasses of wine, handing one to you.

"i bought red just for you." rafe admits, sitting down next to you, but keeping more distance than before.

"you remembered." you smile into your glass, taking a small sip of the drink.

"of course.” rafe closes his eyes briefly before refocusing on you when they open again.

“you’re different.” you say honestly. it’s been so long since you’ve spent more than a few minutes with him, and never one on one like this.

“i’m no longer the boy who got you pregnant.” rafe says, and you understand exactly what he means. izzy changed both of your lives, made you realize that you had to grow up, for her sake and your own. “i actually-” rafe leans forward and sets his glass on the coffee table. “wanted to apologize for back then. i was young and stupid, and i hurt you and izzy. i wish i could go back and change how i acted. i was jealous and immature.”

“oh rafe.” you sigh, also setting your glass down to lean forward and wrap your arms around him. “it means so much to me to hear you say that. i’m sorry too, we both made mistakes.” rafes arms are firmly around your waist, holding you against him. you pull back, going to speak more when rafes lips press against yours. you gasp against his mouth, but he doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you until you concede and kiss him back.

“please. just let me have you, even just for tonight.” rafe says, running his hand through your hair, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes full of emotion and pleading.

you should say no. this will only complicate things further, but you swallow your pride and nod. you want rafe too bad to miss this opportunity.

rafe stands slowly, hands carefully helping you up like he’s worried if he moves too quickly you’ll back out.

he leads you up the stairs, and you follow slowly a step behind, keeping your outstretched hands intertwined as he heads past izzys bedroom to his own. you glance around the room, noticing its mostly unchanged from a year ago when you packed up your things and left.

"we'll have to be quiet." you say, closing the door shut behind you. "don't want to wake izzy."

rafe nods, placing his hands on your waist as he connects your lips again, the kiss even more passionate now as he leads you further into the room, towards the bed.

you kiss in between getting undressed, pulling clothes off before reconnecting your lips until you’re both naked. rafe lays you down, draping his body over yours, his cock rubbing against your thigh making you moan, widening your legs, calling for him.

rafe presses against your entrance, pushing inside with ease, like he was meant to be there. you cry out, trying to keep quiet but struggling until rafes mouth is on yours, swallowing your sounds with a kiss as his hips press against yours, cock buried deep in your heat.

“rafe, please.” you claw your fingers down his back, not caring if you scratch him, needing him to move. he grants your command, moving his hips back and then in in a swinging motion, his eyes glossed over with lust.

it reminds you of the night you conceived izzy, it was just like this, rafe moaning on top of you, both trying to keep quiet as ward was sleeping in the room next door. at the flashback, you suddenly push rafe off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“baby?” rafe questions, his hands reaching out but not touching, like he’s scared you’ll react even worse.

“what are we doing?” you question, your voice breaking as you sob, feeling regretful and vulnerable as you tug on rafes sheet to wrap it around your naked body.

rafe opens his mouth like hes going to speak, but no words come out.

“what are we doing?” you repeat. “we aren’t kids anymore, we have a daughter, we can’t just hook up. do you know how confusing this all is for her? we are being so dumb and selfish.”

“it’s not selfish to want to give izzy happy parents who are together.” rafe pushes back.

“together? you said just for tonight.” you scrunch your brows, confused.

“i would take tonight if that’s all you were willing to offer me. i was hoping with you staying here, things would… change. and get better.” rafe sighs, reaching out to take your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“so you actually want to try again?” you question, thinking that was out of the question after what happened a year ago.

“anything for you. anything for izzy. i know it’ll be hard, but why don’t we try just for this week? and then see where it takes us from then on?”

you nod, leaning forward to press your cheek into rafes chest, letting his strong, comforting arms wrap you into a hug, easing you back onto the bed.

“let’s just sleep.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “and see how we feel in the morning, waking up next to each other.”

“mmm.” you hum in agreement.

“but-” rafe pauses “we do need to put our clothes back on so izzy doesn’t walk in on us naked.”

you burst out laughing, eyebrows shooting up when rafe presses his lips against yours, shushing you as to not wake up izzy while also unable being able to hold back a laugh of his own.

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ax-y10 · 10 months ago

Text

promise

in which; wilbur comes home late and exhausted and brushes past his daughter

about; dad!bur au, so many different perspectives, angst to fluff, i wrote this in two hours very late at night so it's not the best, kisses, fighting, crying, wilbur being bad bad, wilbur ignoring your daughter, swearing, happy ending yayay, gender neutral, i think y/n is used once, anything along these lines

word count; 1.7k

taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa (ask to be added)

you heard the front door creak open, and you sent your daughter down to greet him. you stayed in her room, however, overthinking.

he was home late again from the studio, writing and figuring out songs for the new album. he was working hard, but was starting to forget about who lay at home, waiting for him.

you and your daughter made good use of time during the day when he wasn’t there. making little animals out of playdoh, making dinner for wilbur when he got home, or making silly stories with each other. however, it didn’t feel right.

it didn’t feel like when wilbur had promised to spend every waking moment with you and your daughter. he had promised that if it came to it, he would give up lovejoy, give up streaming, give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you both. but now, he wasn’t keeping the promise fulfilled.

you were cut off by the urgent footsteps of your daughter, and a very teary-eyed girl standing in the doorway. scooping her up, you cradle her against your chest and swing her back and forth, trying to cheer her up.

eventually, you had to break her walls and ask what was wrong.

“what happened? why’re you upset?”

“daddy…”

she was cut off by a loud sob erupting from her throat. she was just so heartbroken

“what did daddy do, sweetheart? do i need to go talk to him?”

it was a great effort trying to get a reason out in between her sobs and shaky breaths, but eventually, she got something out.

“daddy- he- he walked past me. i said hello and tried to hug him, but- but he- he didn’t say hello back. i offered the cupcakes and his- his dinner to him, but he just walked into his room. he just ‘hmphed’ and… ignored me.”

you were heartbroken by this point. he had left his daughter in tears, and his lover heartbroken, but you couldn’t keep sulking with your daughter.

cut to now. you were standing in your shared room with wilbur, arguing back and forth. stupid arguments spewed from his mouth, and sounds of disbelief spewed from yours. you were frustrated from his pure ignorance and bullshit excuses.

“i’m tired! do you not see that! you have to realise i don’t have all the time in the world to be with the people i love most! for fucks sake, you give no one a break, do you!”

each word spilled from his mouth shattered your heart. he didn’t understand.

“all you are worried about is me! all you are worried about is our daughter! all you are worried about is the little stupid things that do not need to have your mind occupied!”

he shouted more and more silly things, clearly not realising what he was saying.

“but that’s what we’re meant to be worried abou-“

“i don’t care! you need to stop! you need to calm the fuck down, sit the fuck down, and stop worrying. i get it, our daughter is very much upset, but im here, and im tired!”

why was he worried about himself?

“you quite simply ignored our daughter as soon as you opened that door! she offered everything her little mind could think of! the cupcakes we made today, the dinner we made for you, she said hello and tried to hug you and you walked past her, groaned, and ignored her! you’ve left her in tears in her bedroom, absolutely heartbroken, because of you! are you fucking brain dead, wilbur!”

he wasn’t going to deny that your words hurt him more than his hurt you. he was only just realising how much he was away from you and his daughter. how much time was spent without the smiling faces of the little love bugs that he leaves at home each day. he didn’t know what had gotten into hi-

“what happened to ‘i’ll give up everything. i’ll give up lovejoy, streaming, ill give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you’! you aren’t here anymore! you’re either not at home or you’re off with the fairies! what happened to us! are we not important! what happened to your family, wilbur! you must be fucking stupid, you bastard!”

that was the last thing he needed before he fell onto the bed and let the floodgates open. he hadn’t realised how much time he had spent away from you both. he was always worried about the release date of the next ep, or always occupied by something else. it must have been months since he truly recognised the warm smile of his daughter or the honey-sweet laugh of you. he didn’t realise that he was slipping down the same rabbit hole every one he knew was falling down. he needed to be present.

you were both fuming. you were pissed and he was frustrated.

it took him a good five minutes to register that you were gone. that you hadn’t offered him a hug, or a kiss, or even something as simple as a head rub. you had just walked off…

he immediately stood up and almost ran to his daughters room. he looked everywhere. you weren’t in there. you weren’t in the guest room, or the lounge room, or the bathroom, or even the kitchen. you were literally gone.

he was about to break down again, lose himself to panic, until the soft, wet laughs from his daughter reached his ears.

he found you both outside, your daughter laying in the grass, you tickling her. she had dried tear tracks on her face and red puffy eyes, you with the same. god she looked like you-

until the day he dies, he will never believe that your daughter looks like him. she has your hair, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. she has your beauty.

he sat down next to you after your daughter saw him and her smile dropped. he’d done so wrong-

“can i apologi-“

“wilbur go inside.”

“darling, plea-“

“wilbur.”

he stood once again and stepped inside. he grabbed his dinner and sat at the kitchen island. he let his eyes roam over every photo of you, of your daughter, of you and your daughter, of him and your daughter, of all of you-

he ate his dinner before it went cold, the small bowl of mac n’ cheese and mashed potato swallowed down before he trudged back to your shared room. he laid down and fell asleep almost instantly. he didn’t want the guilt to set in and ruin anything else.

meanwhile, you and your daughter were still laughing and rolling around in the grass. just before wilbur came out wanting to apologise, you had just calmed her down from her sobs and cries. she had voiced so many small sentences that were so incomprehensible, the sentence that you did catch was so heart-wrenching, you started crying again.

“do you and daddy still love me?”

you sobbed and endured shaky breaths but you got through it just for her.

“yes, of course, pumpkin. please don’t ever think we don’t love you.”

a shower and fresh set of pyjamas later, your daughter was asleep in her room, and you were pacing the lounge room, figuring out what to do.

do you sleep on the couch? do you sleep with wilbur? do you sleep in your daughters room? you simply didn’t know.

settling for your shared bedroom, you make your way to where wilbur was fast asleep, small breaths moving the curls on his head and the slight twitch in his arm from where you were absent.

you crawl under the sheets behind him, ignoring the slight hiccup in his sleep, and falling asleep with your head buried in his sleep shirt. the faint scent of cologne and rain luring you into sleep.

you woke to wilbur’s calloused fingers running across your face and through your hair, and finding rest on your shoulders. his slight bed head and tired face making him even prettier than usual. he’ll always dent that he looks pretty in the mornings, claiming that he looks weird with his messy hair or that his breath stinks, but everything is always brushed off with a wide smile from you and a kiss placed under his eye.

but as soon as the warm feeling came, it was pulled away as soon as he realised you had woken up. he thought that you were still angry at him, that you would get angry at him for being so close to you after last night. but he was surprised when he felt you move and pull his hand back to you face.

he continued his small gestures across your face, staring at your sleepy face maybe just a little longer than he should be, considering how horrible of a person he was last night. how absolutely self-centred he was, how he ignored your daughte-

“stop worrying, wil. i’m not angry.”

“i’m so sorry, for last nigh-”

“sweet, don’t apologise right now.”

“just let me, please?”

when he was met with a small nod, he continued.

“i’m so so so sorry about last night. i don’t know what had gotten in to me that made me ignore the two most beautiful things i call mine, but i feel absolutely horrible. i should not have said anything that i said. i shouldn’t have been so self-centred, i shouldn’t have ignored our daughter, i shouldn’t have argued with you. i’m sorry. i really am. and im sorry for not sticking by that promise. i promise that you and our daughter are going to be my number one priority from here on out. i love you.”

he finished his apology with a kiss to your forehead, to your nose, and finally to your lips. he threaded his hands back into your hair, and pulled off his shirt and gave it to you to keep you warm.

soon, your little ball of happiness walked into the room, laughing at the sight of you in wilbur’s shirt and him tickling you. you all calmed down eventually, and let your daughter climb into bed with both of you.

wilbur immediately smothered her in tight hugs and ticklish kisses pressed against her face. he apologised to her for ignoring her and made sure that she believed him before he dropped the subject.

you all spent the entire day doing things together. making playdoh animals, with wilbur. making dinner, with wilbur. making up silly stories, with wilbur. he was included in everything you did.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot angst #dadbur #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot fanfiction

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thewritingofamadwoman · 1 year ago

Text

To Forgive or Not To Forgive, That Is The Question

Part two of “Should I Stay or Should I go”

Pairing: Mark Sloan x Fem!OC

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, Mark being his usual handsome self.

Thank you for reading & Enjoy!

It had been exactly one month since Mark Sloan officially started working at Seattle Grace and honestly it has been the worst few weeks of my entire existence. My head and heart were all over the place, at war with each other whenever I saw, thought of, spoke to, or worked with Mark.

The more logical, realistic side of me was angry and hurt, betrayed that I had no choice but to work side by side on some cases with the man who had left both my daughter and I when we needed him the most. The emotional, more physical side of my brain couldn’t stop from preening whenever Mark complimented me or flirted with me. He once placed a hand on my waist to squeeze by from behind me I could swear that the entire hallway heard the how loud my fucking heart was beating.

I tried my hardest to be the bitch I needed to be to deter him. I would glare and roll my eyes, snap back and avoid Mark at all costs. But of course, somehow the largest hospital in Seattle had become smaller than your average kindergarten classroom. I couldn’t avoid Mark Sloan no matter how hard I tried.

I was currently standing at a nurses station, flipping through a chart while Callie stood next to me, signing a few papers. Cristina Yang was crunching on chips in front of us when she let out a low whistle. Callie and I turned our attention to her when she nodded her head towards the end of the hall. There Mark stood as he chatted with Derek, in scrubs and a lab coat. The men were whispering about something, and Mark let out a laugh, throwing his head back. Callie let out a breathy laugh of her own.

“Damn he’s hot,” she said, and Cristina hummed in response. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t take my eyes from Mark’s silhouette. They weren’t wrong, Mark was hot. So very fucking hot. But…he fucked up. And I couldn’t forgive him. I shouldn’t forgive him. Right?

“He’s alright, I guess. But he’s an ass,” I said nonchalantly and forced my eyes back to the chart in front of me.

Cristina snorted and continued to munch on her chips.

“Sure, but that’s a fine ass he has,” she chuckled and Callie laughed along with her, agreeing. I looked up to shush them but my eyes connected with Mark’s from across the hall and I stuttered. Make gave me his signature smile, eyes gentle, before turning back to Derek. Callie and Cristina turned around to stop themselves from giggling. Controlling my blush I closed my patients folder and slapped Callie’s arm with that same folder.

“You two are horrible. Just horrible,” I mumbled at them before I walked away.

——

The day continued and Mark always seemed to be in my peripheral vision. Everywhere I went, he was there. Whether he was with a patient or chatting with one of our coworkers, Mark Sloan was never more than 40 steps away from me at any given moment.

I reached my breaking point before lunch.

“Oh for fucks sake,” I muttered to myself when I saw Mark chatting with Alex Karev, MY intern for the month. I marched to both men and cleared my throat.

“Mark, can I speak to you for a second?” I bit out, doing my best to remain civil.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course. Karev, I’ll see you later,” Mark nodded at Alex before turning to me, a friendly smile on his face.

“Mark, what are you doing?” I sighed, tired of all the emotional whiplash. Mark looked at me, seemingly genuinely confused.

“What do you mean? Karev? I was just chatting with him-“

“No,” I cut him off. “What are you doing here, in Seattle? At this hospital? You’re one of the best plastic surgeons in the country and you had to come to the one hospital I work at?”

Mark gave me a small, sheepish smile.

“In my defense, this is the number one trauma center in the west cost and Richard Webber really did give me an offer I couldn’t refuse. But the main reason? You know the main reason, Lise. I came to apologize. What I did was wrong. So fucking wrong,” Mark sighed, and the use of a nickname I hadn’t heard in a long time did not go unnoticed by me. I let him continue.

“I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and to our baby girl. I was young and dumb and I know that those aren��t excuses, but you have to believe me when I say that I want nothing more in this world right now than to be with you and to finally meet my daughter.” Mark’s eyes pleaded with mine and I could see the sincerity within them.

But I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him right away.

“Mark, you broke me. I was ready to start a family with you. And you just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I…I’m not sure I can just forgive you like that,” I said, my heart clenching at the thought of us being a family again. I didn’t notice the hot tear sliding down my face until Mark’s hands cupped both of my cheeks, his thumb brushing the stray tear away.

“I’m sorry Lise. I’m so sorry baby. I will spend the rest of my entire fucking existence trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me. I want to do right by you and our baby girl. I know what I’m signing up for here. And I’m willing. Please, just let me try to prove myself to you. I want to be the one who makes you happy again,” Mark pleaded, his own eyes watering with desperation. I reached up and grabbed both of his wrists in my hands before staring into those beautiful blue eyes of his.

After what felt like an eternity, I nodded.

“You get ONE chance. This is it, Mark. You fuck this up and we are DONE for good. You don’t get to talk to me or see our daughter. You disappear from the fucking face of the earth and leave us alone. Do you hear me?” I said. Last time, I let logic and reasoning rule my heartbreak. This time I was willing to let emotion take over. I was still raw from the heartbreak but I guess I loved Mark Sloan more than I was willing to admit.

Mark’s eyes widened and he smiled, squeezing my face in his hands just a touch and leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sensation, opening them back up once Mark had pulled away.

“You won’t be disappointed baby, I promise.”

Part Three…? ;)

Tag List (thanks for reading):

@caseyandsloan @xjasam4lifex @spookyboogyuniverse

#mark sloan oneshot #mark sloan x OC #mark sloan fanfic #mark sloan x fem!oc #mark Sloan fanfiction #mark sloan x reader

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kurogxrix · 2 years ago

Text

When The Time Comes ( III. )

⇀ ( I. ) ( II. )

Sully family x Sully!reader, oc x Sully!reader

IN WHICH your family leaves for Awa’atlu under the threat of Quatritch, leaving you and your mate to rule the Omaticaya. You all reunite after 2 years but someone seems to be missing? Your younger brother, Neteyam.

WC: 9k

Warnings: ANGST, death, grief of a brother:(, suggestive, feeding the Mo’rata babes with this😋.

It was late at night as you waited for the moment when your mate would return home to you. Usually he would’ve returned home to you and your daughter, but to your surprise and shock when you had woken up in the morning, your daughter was nowhere to be seen.

Your senses were enveloped with an intense feeling of fear as you rounded the village in search of your child, only before getting your nerves eased by one of your mate’s trainees. The news of your mate leaving the village with your young daughter right after your instance of dread was not necessarily pleasing, but you appreciated the honest man’s actions nevertheless.

Your ears were downcasted and your tail tense and resting right between your legs. You just couldn’t wait to chew him out once he would step foot into your shared tent. After your father had left to seek uturu from another clan because of Quaritch’s constant menaces, you had decided to stay behind and lead the people alongside your mate.

Your family and you both knew that without Jake here, no trouble would arise for the Omaticaya. It had been with heavy hearts and tear stained faces that your family and you had both seperated, watching them fly further and further away upon their ikrans. Before they had left, Jake had surrendered his title of Olo’eyktan to the future leader of his people, Morata. Your heart and eyes burned as you watched your dad get slashed across the chest by your husband, in an act of ‘killing’ him to pass his title to Mo’rata.

You knew how hard he had fought for the title, how much he had given for his people. He had given up his life on earth, his beliefs and everything that he once had for this life. For your mother who he had fallen so foolishly in love with. Watching him give it all up for the sake of his family brought tears to your eyes, which Mo’rata was quick to dry. You weren’t Tsahik yet, considering that your adoring grandmother was still rolling. Though Tsahik training did not did not strain you any less.

At the news of your bearing, you had been both elated and exhausted. The clan swayed and shared a feast all night at the news of a new clan member soon to be welcomed. You were truly happy at the side of your mate, and the grin on his face told you that he felt just the same.

But now you were so, oh so angry at him. How dared he take your only daughter out on a hunt with him and the older na’vi men. Wasn't he aware of how dangerous the rainforest truly was? Surely his numerous scars must’ve been a forewarning.

At the sound of heavy footsteps, you turned your whole body to the opening of your tent. Few years prior, he would’ve probably jumpscared you by sneaking up on you, courtesy of his silent footfalls.

Though fatherhood has taken a toll on the man’s overall playfulness, deep down you knew that he was still the unruly teen that he once was, just having matured outwardly for the sake of his people.

There he stood in all of his glory, with your tired daughter laying limp in his arms. Her barely opened eyes was the only indication that she was awake, even though it wouldn’t last for long. He knew that by the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and scrunched up nose that he was in trouble, he had already known ever since he had taken your daughter in the morning. You walked towards him, angry footsteps making more noise than his as you approached the both of them.

Your daughter looked at you through her big and tired round eyes, a familiar trait that you both shared. Her head was swaying adorably back and forth as she tried desperately to stay awake in her father’s embrace. You pulled her away from Mo’rata, rightfully ignoring him as you undressed your daughter of all of her jewellery. You unclasped the necklace that she wore, a tinier version of her father’s. The same necklace that you had weaved him so many years ago.

Your daughter, Sewii, had always wanted to be like her father. She was born a natural sweetheart, but it amused you how she tried to act stoic just like her father at times. Her facade would always break when you’d lift her up in your arms and nuzzle your nose into her chubby neck, ripping a wholehearted belly laugh out of her as she claimed that it tickled.

Your mate watched with adoration as you delicately placed your daughter onto your shared hammock, given that she was too small to have her own, and mostly that you loved having her in between the both of you at night. You placed a kiss on her temple as her eyes shut tight for the night. Once Sewii was off to dreamland and her quiet snores resonated all over the tent, you turned back to your husband.

“I think we need to talk.” you hissed, teeth clenched together as you spoke. Lo’ak and you would always try to stifle your laughter when your angry mother would speak to you both in such a way, but now you could understand that it was truly a given mom thing. Mo’rata’s ears fell as he began to make his way out of the tent. He knew that if he even dared to utter a word to you right now, you would most probably serve his ass right back to him.

“You brought our daughter out of the village gates, without even telling me?” you seethed, whisper-shouting at your irresponsible mate before you. Mo’rata’s eyes stared deep into yours as he remained quiet.

“You are like a baby, like a child that has first stepped foot into the forest. You know if it’s dangers and yet you dragged her along with you!” Mo’rata’s eyes then casted downwards at your accusations. Your tail flickered wildly behind you, the tip of it curving upwards as it conveyed your discontentment.

“She is 2 years old now, she should be able to see the world like we do.” Mo’rata raised his voice involuntarily as he started, wincing slightly as he saw the way your shoulders fell. “You prevent her from being like the other children, she is bored and sad sitting in the village all day.” he tried now in a softer tone, though it was hard when the subject affected him just as much as it did for you and your daughter.

His hands had moved to grab onto yours somewhere between his statements, but you were too lost in his words to even have noticed.

His fierce yellow eyes softened as yours practically sunk. You didn’t wish to bore or sadden your child, she was your everything. You felt as though you were your father in this instant, and she was the younger you that wished for nothing else than a sliver of freedom. You didn’t want her to be imprisoned amongst the invisible walls of the village, but your fears laid deep within.

Ever since your father and family had left for awa’atlu, the clan had deemed it safe enough for you all to move from the high camp and back onto the comfort of the trees. Everything was more accessible that way, more livable.

“I just want to keep her out of danger, yawne. She’s our only daughter, and I fear that it will stay this way for long.” he practically melted at the nickname though his heart fractured upon your words. The tears that had involuntarily gathered in your eyes breached the water wall, now pouring freely onto your cheeks. Mo’rata wasted no time as he pulled you flushed onto him, dropping your hands to comfort you in his embrace.

One of his arms laid onto the back of your shoulders as yours wrapped around his torso. His other hand caressed your hair in a comforting manner. It was silent as Mo’rata could never find the right words to bring reconfort, but his touch and actions always did it for you. He knew deep down that you had not forgiven him yet for the whole previous incident, but that was something that you could work on later. Now there was some sort of solace that you both sought after the weight of your words.

Years prior, after you had been promised under the gazes of the many people - Mo’rata wasted no time in claiming you as his. You both had waited until eclipse before sneaking out like young teens once more. Jake had not stopped you from running off that night, solely because Neytiri had been physically holding him back. He knew what this meant, why you had been running off specifically that night.

He knew that it was hypocritical and selfish to stop you from relishing in your newfound mate, because he and Neytiri had been through it. He knew that it was wrong to stop you. So he watched as you ran away, not showing your face until the break of dawn as you came back riding your ikran alongside Mo’rata.

He acknowledged that you were a grown woman now, and that a family of your own would soon issue. jake told himself that he was ready for his eldest to finally leave the nest, though he and Neytiri both knew that they would grieve upon your departure for some time. It was hard enough watching their first child grow up so fast, but it was harder helping you move your things onto your new tent. 4 kids in their home was definitely something that they would have to learn to get used to.

Though after the 5 months mark had hit ever since you had publicly announced your bond with Mo’rata, there was still no signs of you bearing any child. It was slightly alarming, and your family began noticing soon enough - though no one had the balls to ask.

Except for your youngest brother Lo’ak, well he had gotten close to before getting smacked by Kiri.

When you had first laid with Mo’rata, it had truly been a breathtaking experience for the both of you. Mostly for the male na’vi, given his inexperience - you had made it your goal to make him see the stars from up close on that night. You had started the night by leading, touching him in all sorts of ways after he had given you the green light.

It didn’t take him too long to learn, given his keen attention. Though he was still a little sloppy and blowsy, the intimate moment you had first shared was engraved onto his heart permanently. He loved that you were his first everything. His first love, first kiss, first relation - in all kinds of ways. You had laid besides each other at night, under the protection of the All-Great Mother. Your head had rested on his firm chest as his hands held you tightly in his embrace. Your queues still attached, tendrils intertwined firmly together.

Your little nightly moments had been doubling, tripling and soon you found yourself going at it like rabbits. You felt once more like a teen that had just discovered the amazing world of pleasure, and mo’rata was adamant on being the one who made you see stars now.

After five months, the fact that you remained unbearing had begun to trouble your busy mind. You had seeked the presence of your grandmother, the great Tsahik herself. Though she could not find anything anormal within your anatomy, you had gone back home full of self doubt that night. Your husband was quick to comfort you, holding you like he always did when you needed a little more reassurance.

You had always found it hard to affirm your feelings, courtesy of your father’s strict lifestyle as a young child. So when you had finally opened up to your mother about it, you couldn’t stop fiddling with your fingers or looking at anything but her. Neytiri had a soft frown present amongst her features as she watched tears of frustration gather in your eyes before blinking the pathetic tears away.

She had not known what was wrong with you. Well nothing was wrong with you, you just didn’t know how to word it. She had conceived you quickly after first laying with your father, and soon came your other siblings, so you being late on the whole pregnancy thing was strange.

After the tragic departure of your parents and siblings, a whole year after becoming mo’rata’s loyal mate - was when you had finally found out about your pregnancy. Hitting the 2 years and 2 months mark after her birth, here you were now - arguing with your mate about your light and joy.

You would always remember the prideful look amongst Mo’rata’s face when he had first announced your bearing to the clan, then the one that he had on while holding your child for the first time. He held your tiny daughter up and high for the clan to see, chanting her name as they did. She was barely bigger than the two palms of his hands, a big baby indeed. Despite her chubby cheeks and body full of fat rolls, she was still the cutest baby that you had both ever seen.

You had always had some kind of faith in the thought that your family would return soon. Even though it’s soon to be 3 years since their departure, their absence still left a black hole in the depths of your heart. You could almost imagine it, the look on all of their faces upon their returns when they see your little one for the first time.

How happy and proud your family would be for you, how proud they would be to see the fine chief that you made alongside your mate. Even in your upset state since earlier, your ears raised at the thought of your family, folding outwards. You wondered how the Metkayina were treating them, you wondered how big Tuk had gotten now. You’d dread the moment when she would not fit in the comfort of your arms anymore, or worse, when she would not want to be in them.

You wondered if your father has been treating your youngest brother well, and vice versa. If your mother is at peace with your brother's arguments and if Kiri is able to connect with Eywa as much in Awa’atlu as she does here. You almost laugh at yourself for this one, of course she would, the people here even nickname her ‘Child of Eywa’ because of her strong connection with the All-Great Mother.

You thought of your brother, Neteyam. You wondered if he was happy now that some responsibilities were taken off his back. You knew that at their arrival, he would most likely have it harder than here, but you prayed to Eywa for her to take all burdens off of his shoulder - and that’s what she had done.

Just not in the way you would’ve wished for.

Though you ignored anything that was happening with your family at the moment, you could only pray for them. Sewii sat in your lap as her face was squeezed in between your breasts in an attempt at getting breastfed again. She had reached the age where she could eat soft fruits and begin to chew on shredded meat, but she was so adamant about letting go of her sweet delicacy.

You sighed at her once more, moving your hands from your work to push her away. She was just as hard-headed as her father, though Mo’rata would always argue and say that she had gotten that trait from a certain someone else. Sewii reached her little hand up again to grasp at the beads on your top, pulling it downwards towards her with all of her might.

You were just about to reprimand her as you had heard it, the loud ringing of horns. You would’ve gotten up way more abruptly if it wasn’t for the little bundle of joy that was on your lap, so you gently took her and dragged her outside with you. The horns could only alert two things, an unwanted arrival - most probably a sign for humans on sight. Then there was the arrival of people, na’vi people.

You looked up at the 4 Ikran’s that were approaching your clan and you felt cold sweat gather up on the nape of your neck. If those were to be intruders then you feared for the safety of your clan, mostly of your family’s. They couldn’t be though, their path was immediate and there was no hesitation in their moves. They knew the forest like they knew themselves.

Mo’rata had suddenly popped out of nowhere, now being by your side. He raised a protective arm around the both of you, holding his family safe behind his stature. Everyone turned their eyes at the sight of their Olo’eyktan, wondering what the judgement for the new arrivals would be.

Though when a series of gasps had been let off amidst the crowd, you knew better than them being a threat. You gave your daughter for Mo’at to hold as she happily accepted the embrace of her great-grandchild. You loved Mo’at not only because she was the best grandmother but because she was so loving to her family. She has always been when you were a child, and despite her age now she continues to be for the child of your own.

You looked at your mate in the eyes before pushing through the crowd, with Mo’rata straight on your tail. You didn’t know who you were expecting when you had seen the 4 Ikrans, but the sight of your family had shocked you. It left you frozen in your place as they all eyed you, small smiles present on their faces. There was something more to that, more to the happiness that they displayed, though you couldn’t quite catch up on what.

Tuk was the first to pounce on you and your heart soared at her affection. You were so happy that your little sister was not in her ‘don’t touch me, don’t talk to me’ phase yet, because you would miss embracing her like this. You had gone through it as a rebellious teenager, and looking back at it made you physically recoil in cringe.

Your eyes moved towards your brother and sister, who were both two grown young adults now. They were not much taller than they had been before leaving, though Lo’ak looked a little more muscular. Defined muscles flexing at his every move. What had shocked you the most was the tattoos that adorned your little brother’s skin. There were some under his lips, nearing his chin. The longer ones went all the way from his arms to the side of his face. You smirked at him teasingly and he could only roll his eyes playfully at your banter.

He was all grown up now and you couldn’t tease him about being your baby brother anymore. Before you could physically greet your siblings, the skinny arms of your mother had found you first. For the first time in 2 years, you had never felt more at peace than now. Mo’rata was your pillar and Sewii was your comfort but a mother’s embrace is so much more than anything else.

You looked back at your father that observed you, his yellow eyes widening at how more mature you looked now. You haven't even changed height or had any crazy physical change happen to you other than the change that came with bearing a child. Somehow becoming a leader had just made you look ten times older, in the best way possible. You looked wiser than the young adult that he had left behind. He simply smiled at you, approaching you to pat you on the head and you closed your eyes, trying to relish in this happiness forever.

Unfortunately, all things are temporary and you would soon learn of this.

You looked back to be met with the playful sight of your husband headlocking Lo’ak. They played like two brother’s and you were rejoiced to see him being acknowledged as a sibling by your own, because you know that he had not gotten to feel that during his youth. Brothers, you thought.

You had brothers, not just a brother.

You looked back into your mothers eyes and she seemed to have caught on to your curiosity. The previous unknown look in her eyes had seemed to triple in size at your oblivion.

“Where is Neteyam? I have someone very important that the family must meet, but the family must be complete first.” you said to your mother and your smile soon faltered as her face remained the same. She looked back at Jake who he simply nodded at your mother. You knew that your father was never really good at anything sentimental and that your mother would always be the one to break things to y’all, so you prepared for the worst.

Mo’rata was quick to be at your side as your mood dropped, silently standing besides you. He had an idea of what had happened and he knew that so did you. You just wanted to play into the oblivion, because maybe if you never knew then it would never be true. Maybe your mind was just being pessimistic and your brother was waiting somewhere along for him to jumpscare you.

“Neteyam is not with us, my dear,” your mother tried to say but her own sorrow would not allow her to wreck the heart of her oldest child. Somewhere deep inside of your heart, Neytiri knew that you were somewhat sensitive. Though you never showed it because of the emotional absence that you had lived through during your youth. Courtesy of your father for raising warriors, not children.

She knew that when you had an argument with your father, you would secretly weep in the sheer darkness of the night. Where no one could see you.

You breathed out a laugh at your mother’s words and she frowned at your reaction. Had you not understood, or were you mocking your brother’s departure to Eywa’s afterland. She shook her head internally, cursing herself for thinking that way of you. “He has finally found a woman huh? That’s why he has chosen not to return.” Kiri’s stomach churned at your words.

She and Tuk had not been there to witness the tragedy of your brother’s passing, and it was just as devastating to hear from afar as Quaritch announced the death of their older brother. They were somewhat glad to not have witnessed the incident, although grateful to have been able to say goodbye to their brother before he was engulfed forever unto the arms of the ocean.

You however, had not been as lucky as them to have gotten such a chance, and the guilt would forever nag at your heart.

“He has finally found a woman that makes him happy. That’s why he’s not here.” you said and your father pitied the sight of you. The subtle quiver of your eyes held so many words that you just couldn’t express at the moment, because your throat burnt so much that you just couldn’t voice out anything more. Your mother was the first to break as she tilted her head down, reliving the fresh memories of her arrival before her firstborn son’s lifeless body.

Your lips wavered as you looked back desperately at your husband, looking for some kind of hidden answer somewhere. You gritted your teeth before squinting your eyes at Mo’rata. “Tell me it isn’t true,” you questioned him as if he hadn’t been here with you the whole time, as if he had been there to live through what your family had. He said nothing at first, face crestfallen as he didn’t quite know how to respond to your pleas.

Before the sobbing could consume you, your husband had made it his priority to engulf you into his embrace, holding you tight against his toned body. You cried as loud as a lost viperwolf cub in search of its mother, you cried for Eywa to take the pain away from you. Tuk ran to the arms of your father, still a visibly sensitive child at heart as she couldn’t stand the sight of your mother’s and your tears.

For a second, you had wished that you had made different decisions in your life. You had wished to have followed your family there, because then maybe you could’ve protected your brother better than you had ever done in your entire life. You could’ve saved him but you weren’t there and nothing in this world could ever change that now.

You know that the hurt will never go away, but you know that at some point your sobbing will cease and your tears will dry. Because no matter how much you cry and beg, your brother will never return and you will live with the guilt of your decisions until the day you die. Mo’rata rubbed a hand over the back on your head, comforting himself just as much as you. Just because Neteyam wasn’t his biological brother didn't mean that he wasn’t allowed to grieve too.

The feeling of tiny hands on your toned calf had shaken you out of your distressed state. You looked down at the sight of your concerned daughter, and you had allowed yourself to let out another breathy laugh as you spotted her. Perhaps it was because you tried to make yourself happy in this moment of sadness, you’d never know.

You picked her up in your arms as she made grabby arms towards her father instead. Usually you would’ve faked offence but you were not in the mood to play pretend with your child at the moment. You gave her to Mo’rata and Sewii was quick to nuzzle her face in the collarbone of her father, she looked sad as well and you couldn’t help the new wave of deception that rose upon you. She was sad because you were sad, you were the cause of her dejection.

Before you could go for another round of tears, Kiri had approached you softly. She graced her hand upon your shoulder, rubbing comforting motions onto you.

“Who's this little one?” she asked despite already having her suspicions. She would fake it for the moment though, in an attempt at easing her family. You tried to smile at her as she asked about your little family, something that you had dreamed about introducing forever.

Sewii attempted to hide from the unwanted attention by forcing her head deeper into her dads neck. Mo’rata groaned at her force but he couldn’t get himself to be angry at her, she was just a shy little girl after all.

“Would you like to introduce yourself, ‘ite?” you spoke softly to your daughter, and the many eyes of your family behind you widened - except for Kiri’s of course. It was obvious that the child was yours, though hearing you say it was like a truth revealer.

Neytiri stepped forward, her cheeks now vacant of any tears as she tried her best to stay strong for her family.

Neytiri stood before your daughter, raising a cautious hand to stroke at the shy girl’s cheeks. She visibly relaxed as she noticed that your mother was no one to be afraid of and so she slowly began to pull her head out of her fathers neck. Much to Mo’rata’s relief. You looked back at your father that was still standing awkwardly in his place, then to your siblings that had now vanished somewhere in the clan. Your father had told Kirk and Lo’ak to bring Tuk somewhere else for now, until everything was settled.

“Would you want to stay with grandma tonight, i’m sure she’d love to have you over?” you questioned Sewii as your mother moved out of the way to let you speak with your daughter. She nodded before shocking the whole of you. She extended her hands towards Neytiri, making grabby hands at her grandmother.

Mo’rata himself seemed shocked, even though he wasn’t a man for many expressions. The creases that formed on his forehead could say everything at the moment. Neytiri on her side wasted no time grabbing Sewii from under her armpits and into her own arms. She ushered the both of you out, and so you went, peaceful minded as your daughter was safe in the arms of her grandparents. The great warriors.

You had been ranting to your husband for a good 30 minutes now, though it’s not like he would complain. If he could, he'd even retrieve himself a cup of wine and listen to you talk about your sorrows like a good househusband, but he can’t, so he’ll just stick to sitting pretty in front of you.

The moss under the both of you was soft and inviting, almost making you fight the urge to lay down on its large bed of softness. Your husband fiddled with a stray twing as his ears turned towards you, showing you that his attention was on you. He broke the twig into little pieces to entertain his fidgety fingers in the meanwhile, watching as your ears twitched each time that he did so.

“I don't understand Mo’rata, I feel like I'm failing everything and everyone,” you said, throat feeling heavy at your confession. Though you were shred that you wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t. You had emptied the whole of your body crying earlier as you grieved the fall of your younger brother, and your head still aches as the aftermath.

Mo’rata looked at you through half-lidded eyes as you ranted to him. “First of all It has taken me a year to give you a child, then I heard about the death of my own brother.” you wavered, head tilting downwards as you drowned in self pity.

“Maybe if we had gone with them, then we could’ve saved my little brother.”

“Stop blaming yourself for things which you cannot help, if Eywa has decided of his fate then so be it, there was nothing that you could’ve done to undo it anyways.” his words sounded scolding, but his tone held nothing more than tenderness. He sounds anxious as he speaks, like something was physically holding him back from comforting you. Though you don’t blame him for the awkward way that his words come out, because you’re just as shitty as him at expressing your feelings.

On a usual, that is, with him it just feels like you can rely your deepest secrets upon his shoulders. He’s like a safekeep, with a double lock and tied off with a steel chain. Like a confession post that you can confess to at any moment.

“And stop with those deprecating thoughts, it doesn’t matter to me how long it has taken for Sewii to be conceived. What matters to me is that she’s here, a part of our growing family,” Mo’rata reproves you in his own loving way, but he means well. “Your body has done so much hard work just to carry and birth her, you should be proud of yourself.”

He stares at your silent figure for a solid minute, his eyes unwavering as they trace your distinctive features. He thought of ways in which he could comfort you other than his awkward consolation words, and remembers how much you love it when he spills his totally unfunny jokes that you can’t help but cackle at.

“Is it the wrong moment for me to want to kiss you?” you can’t help yourself but let out a dry laugh at his words, not that you didn’t find him funny, just that you didn’t really have the energy to. There’s a comforting smile on his lips as his ears turn inwards and towards you.

“Maybe..” you joke back at him. “But maybe a kiss is what I need to get my head off of everything right now.” Mo’rata is quick to submit into your desires as he brings a hand up to lay upon the smoothness of your skin.

the feeling of his warm palm resting upon your chin felt grounding, his thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. The look that your husband was giving you was filled with love, yet again when was it not? To the clan and other people, he might’ve appeared as a stern or stone cold leader, but you knew better than that, he had a hidden side for his little family.

Oh and he was beautiful. Better looking than any men that your sister has ever tried setting you up with during your teen years. Better looking than any guy from the clan that you’ve ever had a stupid crush on, yet he was still the same guy that was outcasted because of his looks and now look at how far he has advanced.

Mo’rata watched as your eyes strayed further from his own, instead they traced every single feature on his face. From the varying scars that went from barely noticeable to the ones that dug so far into his skin that were sure to follow him to his deathbed. He watched as your smile grew bigger once your eyes laid on his hair, clearly happy with its growth.

The first time that you had met the man, he had one long loc of hair that caged his face, while the other had seemed to have been accidently cut during one of his hunts. During the years, the awkward loc had grown, and now he looked more marvellous than ever. You had even tried to lure him into wearing matching beads with you, but he denied, saying that it would affect his mean look.

As he grew to embrace his duties more seriously, and took some more time to train his students and himself, his physique changed drastically. He was afraid that fatherhood would’ve taken a toll on his body, but clearly it failed to do so. He was so entranced and lost in his daydreaming that he had failed to notice you moving closer to him, until you pressed a peck to his cheek. It brought him back, reviving him like a flower in dire need of water after a rain session.

His hands laid firmly on your hips as you kissed, oftentimes digging into the soft flesh with his calloused fingers. You whined desperately into his mouth as you felt him grabbing you by hips in his bruising grip, dragging you onto his lap as he sat you there. He manhandled you like you weighed nothing, like you could compare to thus of a feather. Your arms were quick to be thrown over his shoulders for stability, clasping your hands together behind his neck.

You smiled into the kiss once you felt his hands exploring again. His fingers dug under the strings of your tweng, exploring and caressing the skin of your hips again. You tilted your head to the side for better access and everything was going perfectly. That was until you felt the soft pinch that Mo’rata had given you to the side of your body.

You gasped as you opened your mouth for a second, overtaken by the slight feeling of shock in the moment. Though your husband wasted no time as you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, smooth bastard. Battling for dominance as two switches was more entertaining than a match of mud wrestling itself. You unlatched your hands from each other and away from the nape of his neck, dragging it painfully slowly down to his chest.

You could’ve felt him hastily sliver once your fingers reached his torso. Feather-like touch caressing the hard bed of muscle above the sculpted V-line that ran past his Tweng. The same V-line that would attract the unwanted eyes of many single na’vi women amongst the clan, but it satisfied you to know that you were the only one that could ever look further down than that.

The tip of your fingers caressed his toned pack of abs as Mo’rata stifled his chuckle at the feeling. Mo’rata had grown so much ever since the Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. He was bulkier now, his abdominal muscles being the result of his training. His shoulders were broader now and it accentuated that tiny waist of his.

Mo’rata was sure that having to carry his daughter 24/7 was what had been the reason for his arm muscle growth. His breath hitched as your curious hands explored his body. Even after so many years of being mated to the man, he just couldn’t get enough of your touch.

You removed your mouth from his, much to his dismay. Though the feeling of you nipping at his neck was more the less rewarding as he craned his neck back, his head tilting backwards in pleasure. You knew his body like the back of your hand, what made him recoil of displeasure and what made his body tingle like no other. You knew him like nobody else did, his body was practically yours at this point.

Mo’rata felt the purging need to have to be closer to him, closer than you physically could. You continued your assault on his neck, leaving a trail of faint hickeys on his neck. You kissed the underside of his jaw, assaulting his jawline with your mouth. You could feel his loincloth tightening right under you, and you grinned at the feeling.

Being a parent and a chief meant having less time to spend like this with the other, so you’d be sure to make the best of your time tonight. It didn’t matter if you went until sunrise and returned at sunset, your daughter was in the safe hands of your family. You knew that she was already fond of your family anyways, despite it being the first time that she has ever met them in her 2 years of existing, but she could always go back to the warm arms of her great-grandmother if she wanted to.

“Stop worrying so much, y’know she’s probably having fun with Tuk right now.” Mo’rata whispers in your ear as though he could read right through your thoughts, his voice was raspy and it dripped with impatience and desires. You could feel his warm breath hitting the side of your face as his fingertips ghosted your sides while he ran his hands up and down, awaiting for you to come back to your senses.

You could only laugh at his desperate sight before snaking your arms over his shoulders, your hands gliding from his neck and onto the start of the hairs at the lower back. He grunted as you grabbed a handful of his locs, pulling the twists of fine hairs between your fingers roughly. His ears folded upright as you continued pressing toothy kisses onto his exposed neck.

You didn’t want to leave too much because you’d have to return to your family afterwards, and you and your brother were always known for teasing your parents when they’d come back home after a date night. Now you imagined that he could only do the same to you, considering that your little brother has always been a living menace. The feeling of your fangs nipping at his skin was sending him over the edge, and Mo’rata swore that he’d have you reaching for the stars again tonight.

The walk back home was nonetheless relaxing and it reminded you of the many times that Mo’rata had walked you home during your teenage years. His squinted eyes watched as you played with the surrounding nature like a child, and he found himself reminiscing of the moments where he could allow himself to be so carefree along your side.

Things were different now, you had both aged and you had more responsibilities than any other clan member upon your shoulders. As parents and clan leaders, this short-lived night was more than what you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Being formally greeted in the village was something that you had gotten used to since birth, being a Sully and all, but it was a whole new concept to your mate. Surely new means since 3 years ago, but it was still new. You both passed by feasting village men and women who offered you a place in their family circles for dinner, and your heart warmed at the act.

Though you both had your own family to attend, so you politely denied the offers. It was nice to see everyone getting along so nicely and it surely saved Mo’rata from his olo’eyktan duties of having to separate stupid men from fighting each other to death. With your hand tightly holding his, you both entered the tent that harboured your little family.

Your family tried their best to ignore the light marks on your husband's neck, but Lo’ak just couldn’t help himself and make a silent joke about it to himself. Like the one time that he had nicknamed you Dracula, a fictional character that he had found in one of the human’s books, widely known for his neck biting antics.

Without missing the disgusted and knowing looks that your little siblings threw at you, except for the all innocent Tuk. She was now 11, and you feared the instance where those stupid boys would ruin her pure mind with the mindless things that they say. Needless to say that the first thing you felt amongst entering the tent was the feeling of a small body crashing into yours, a little head stuffing itself wherever it could reach.

And that being unfortunately your poor

kneecaps.

You reached down to the obvious little person being your daughter, given that Tuk now reached just below your upper chest. Sewii was quick to nuzzle into your chest as she pressed the feathers uncomfortably into your skin, but could you really blame her when she looked so adorable?

“No hugs for dad? How unfair.” you heard the scruffy voice of your own father from behind, and Sewii was quick to throw grabby hands at her dad. She didn’t want him to feel left out, but she’d always have a soft spot for her mother. You chuckled lightly as Mo’rata took her effortlessly into his arms, resting your daughter on his hips with one strong arm. You’d have other times to gnaw about the way his muscles rippled with the way he positioned his arm, for now you had a family to entertain.

“I see that parenthood has found you well?” your mother now spoke, rather to your mate than to the both of you. Neytiri brought a piece of the fruit that she was eating up to her mouth, sticky juices running down her arm before she could even stop it.

“It’s exhausting, but…” Mo’rata trailed off before your entire family, afraid of revealing his feelings out loud to everyone. Surely had fatherhood been a way different routine then his usual one, not that it was unexpected. During the first year that you had brought Sewii on this planet, she had been nothing more than a living menace. Between her raging mood swings and the fact that she just felt the need to wake the both of you up by wailing in the middle of the night was excruciating.

But the moments in which he’d get to go back home after a long day, only to be welcomed by the sight of your daughter waiting patiently for him while you prepared for the night's meal was more than gratifying. For so long had Mo’rata dreamed of such domesticity, even though he wouldn’t verbally express it.

After getting rejected for the first time by a woman he once liked, he believed that there weren’t many options of a future life laid out for him. Sure it might’ve seemed like he was just overly dramatic, but it was just so hard to fit in when he was so different. He was scarred both physically and mentally and rejection was practically a word that was engraved in his vocabulary.

Not many women had ever looked his way, not when he was littered in war scars and had a permanent frown gracing his features. He was a walking dark cloud, and he passed off as rude even to people who he had never even interacted with. Then he met you, the certain Sully that had changed his life for the better. The person that had given him the loving family that he had always secretly dreamt of. He loves you more than his words can describe, and he would go to the world's ends for you.

Unbeknownst to you, your mother was staring dead at you as you interacted with your daughter from her father’s lap. The men in the tent were too busy talking on and about to even notice her sudden silence. Neytiri was undeniably proud of how far you had grown, and how much you had earned for yourself. She knew that it was no easy task, because she had once been tsakarem just as she was still a mother.

She was glad that Eywa had finally blessed you with a child of your own, because even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, there was always this subtle fear that the Great-Mother wouldn’t give you her blessings. For whatever reason, it didn’t mean that you weren’t deserving of one, Eywa just has different paths for everyone.

“What are these on your face, brother?” you ask Lo’ak, and the whole room turns to him. Your brother’s ears falter for a second as all eyes turn to him, before he pulls himself together.

“These are my iknimaya tattoos.” you watch with curious eyes as Lo’ak points towards the sleeve tattoos that run all the way up his both arms. Your own ears raise for a second at the word.

“So you’re a man now?” you beam, happy for your little brother. For his whole life, he had been seen as some immature little boy by the people around him. It made you happy that he finally decided to pull his head out of his ass and prove to everyone that he is a worthy warrior. Mo’rata himself can't even stop his own smile from showing, though it’s more subtle than anything.

For a minute, the tent is filled with nothing more than a comfortable silence. Other than Sewii’s baby babble, you all enjoy your meal in the casted quietness.

“The ones on my face here, is to show my mateship.” Lo’ak boasts loudly, his pointer finger directing your eyes towards the top left of his forehead. Your family watched with amusement as yours and Mo’rata’s eyes widened comically at the news. Though it wasn’t that surprising because he had reached the age of 18 now, you knew that the Metkayina had a tendency at doing everything earlier anyways.

oh, and it clicked in your head. This is the perfect moment for you to get revenge at all of the times that he had teased you about Mo’rata.

“Sooo…,” you moved closer towards your brother, throwing an arm over his shoulders as you pulled him towards you. The mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by your keen husband, and he grinned to himself at your undying playfulness. “I haven’t even met my sister-in-law yet, so make sure that I don't catch you with my niece or nephew when I do meet her.”

The tip of your brother’s ear immediately flushed to a purplish colour at your insinuation. Jake only rolled his eyes at your sibling’s banter, not being able to scold you both for your crudeness now that you were both adults.

“So what is she like?” your husband asked, startling you all as he awakened from his silence. Lo’ak tilted his head to the side as he looked at your husband in pure puzzlement, before the gears seemed to have finally turned in his head, and inevitably got stuck again. He was just stupid. Your good old stupid brother.

“Your woman I mean, i’m afraid that she’s another troublemaker like you my brother. That’ll make your father’s hair fall off faster.” your mate joked, accent thick as he accentuated his words. His tone held no malice, no venom in its syllables, and it told you that he didn’t really care if Lo’ak’s mate actually could be another little gremlin just like him.

He treated your siblings like his own family, teased them and took care of them like a real brother. Eventually, the whole tent erupted into laughter at his joke, before Lo’ak reassured him that it was not the case. On the contrary, he explained that his lover kept him grounded if anything. Tsireya sounded like a good woman to you, and you couldn’t wait for the day that you’d get to meet your new sister.

Eventually everyone came down as your daughter fell asleep in her father’s arms. Her body was limp and it looked like her neck would crack at any moment from her weird position, but she was comfortable like this so what could you do? Her face was resting against Mo’rata’s chest, chubby cheeks squished together in a drooling mess that you couldn’t help but chuckle at.

You’d spent a good amount of the night gossiping and weaving with your little sisters as they now laid unmoving on their temporary hammocks. Even your parents looked the more exhausted, the trip must’ve messed with them pretty badly. Your little family wished them all a goodnight before moving back to your own home, not all that far away from theirs.

You were just as tired as you reach your tent, and Mo’rata being the amazing husband that he was had volunteered to prepare your daughter for bed. You were already laying on the big hammock in the middle of the room when Mo’rata had arrived with the sleeping Sewii in his arms. It was like an immediate reflex to wrap your arm around his upper torso as he laid down on his back besides you.

One of his arms was placed under your head as a pillow as you laid on your side, enjoying the sight of your daughter peacefully placed onto his stomach. She drooled still, but it didn’t seem to disturb him much. He’d gone through much worse as a warrior, a little baby slobber was nothing to him. His other hand rubbed warmth onto the small of Sewii’s back, keeping her heated up for the night.

It was silent around, darkness enveloping the land if not for the bladder lantern spread across the village.

Closing your eyes, you tried to sleep for the night and put everything that had happened today in the past. Your day was truly an eventful day, filled with heartbreak and longing highs. The heartbreaking loss of your brother was still there, fresh and uncovered as you laid in the comfort of your family’s presence. Even if it had not been spoken of ever since the moment of your breakdown, it still ran wild through your mind.

It was like you were being punished for all the wrongs that you had committed during your life. Fresh just as old memories of your brother replayed through your head, leaving you to feel empty at the end of each. They spiral repetitively in your mind, like a broken loop of haunting memories. And you felt unable to open your eyes, like Eywa herself was forcing you to take it all in. Forcing you to accept that the brother that you used to spoon-feed would no longer be there at your wake.

You were shaken awake at the sudden feeling of some warm fingers upon your cheek. Though your vision was blurry from the tears, you knew by the size of the palm that it could be no one else but your husband. His thumb ran across your cheekbone, rubbing the fresh tears away, moistening your skin. You could faintly distinguish a little smile on his face, not one of derision or amusement, but one filled with condolence and solace.

A wobbly smile of your own made its way onto your face as you leaned into his palm, closing your eyes once more as you seeped into a filling void of darkness. But the memories didn’t stop coming in, and your tears failed to stop as they drenched your husband's fingers that laid unmoving on your cheek. Though the smile on your relaxed face contradicted your tears. You were just happy to see your brother for a few final moments, even if it was simply in your mind.

You wanted to take advantage of the moment where you could still see him, before his face disappeared from your memory bank and became nothing more than a blurry mess as you grow older. You felt your husband press a chaste kiss onto your cheekbone before his breathing levelled out, and the images of your brother completely faded out as you succumbed into slumber.

You were happy as you fell asleep. Happy because your family was safe and there with you, Neteyam was safe in the Great-Mother’s hands. You were content because you knew that you’d always cherish your brother, even if he wasn’t here with you to do so physically anymore, even if one day you wouldn’t be able to make up a picture of him in your head anymore. You were happy.

taglist:

@neteyamforlife @ssc7514 @iloveavatar @killinqpills @ilovejakesullysdick @liyahsocorro @sujekie @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @miawastakens @onlytays @junnniiieee07 @mashiromochi @rinloversworld @kadu-5607 @hai-kbai

#neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x daughter #sully!reader #neytiri x reader #lo’ak x reader #atwow #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam sully #avatar oneshot #kiri sully x reader #jake sully #lo’ak x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader

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fandomworld9728 · 2 months ago

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U got time for some Radioapple Angst? Do ya think you could whip up an angst scenario about where Alastor confesses Lucifer that he likes him but Luci (scared of being left alone again after his divorce with Lilith and everything fell apart) gently rejects him, in fear of being in love again while also wanted what’s best for Al 🥲 and maybe cue to Lucifer leaving the hotel and heads back to the palace to be alone (while also notifying Charlie that he’ll be gone for awhile) 😭

(Radioapple angst coming right up! I actually had a similar idea where it's Lucifer who confessed and got rejected. So, he left the hotel so that way he didn't make Alastor uncomfortable)

Lucifer:

What? Did he hear that right? Alastor, the fearsome and powerful radio demon just confessed to him?

He couldn't believe it, but here Alastor was. Standing in front of him, nervous smile and a bouquet of dead flowers.

This... this couldn't be happening. Right? What in the Seven Rings had he even done to make Alastor fall for him? Last he knew the Sinner had hated him but was slowly warming up to him. For Charlie's sake.

Lucifer would be lying if the declaration hadn't affected him. Because this Sinner, this Overlord, this human soul, had seen him. The real him and not only stayed but also loved him. The last time that had happened was with Lilith. However, she had left him all alone. Had taken their daughter with her because she had grown tired, bored, and annoyed with him. Didn't see him fit to be a good parent for Charlie.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he tried to focus on the man in front of him. Alastor wanted Lucifer the broken Fallen Angel who was trying to do right by his daughter and the souls in his care. Not the all-powerful King of Hell. So, why were these horrible thoughts swirling around his head?

Would Alastor leave when he got bored like Lilith did? What if they did get together and ended up having a child of their own? Would he take them away like she had? The more Lucifer listened to the voices in his head, the more his panic rose. Why wouldn't they shut up and let him be happy for once?

There were so many factors. So many fears he had. As much as he desperately wanted to smile and say yes, take a chance on these budding feelings he had for the Overlord, Lucifer knew what the smart choice was. Leading with his head instead of his heart this time, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But... I can't accept your confession."

"...What...?"

Oh Satan. Not the break in his vocal filter. This was so painful. He knew he was about to hurt Alastor. About to ruin whatever had developed between them. Would Alastor hate him after this?

"What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

Here he was back at square one. All alone in his palace once again. He had to get out the hotel, away from Alastor, as quick as he could. If he hadn't, he would have broken down in front of the Sinner and told him everything.

Forever being broken and pathetic. A coward. Having Alastor hate him was much then him realizing what everyone does eventually when they get close to him. He couldn't go through that again.

Besides, it was too dangerous for anyone to be in a relationship with him. Heaven used his ex-wife and daughter against him once, he knows they'd pull that same shit with anyone Lucifer cared about and loved. Charlie was old enough and powerful enough to protect herself well enough if it came down to it and who knows where Lilith ran off too, so she was fine.

Alastor, while being one of the most powerful human souls Lucifer's seen in a long while, wouldn't stand a chance against the higher-ranking angels and the Elders. At least this way he was safe. Not just from Heaven. Safe from Lucifer as well. Sometimes he was a hard time controlling the darker parts of his powers. Especially when he was emotional.

He could feel it creeping up on him even now-

"No! Don't think about it. Focus on something else. Like... Like ways to help Charlie that don't involve being at the hotel or around Alastor. And don't think about the crushed look in her eyes when you told her that you would be moving back into the palace for the time being..."

Once he had explained why, she told him that she understood. But he hated to make her hurt in any sort of way. He had reassured her he would remember to keep in touch this time and that she could contact him for anything. He'd be back at the hotel once things cooled down between him and Alastor.

But what if things never cool down? Did he ruin his one chance to make things right with his daughter because he was afraid to love again? What was wrong with him?!

Alastor:

He had done it. Alastor had taken Rosie's advice on what to do with these... feelings....

He had spent a good part of the day getting things ready. Their usual meeting place, the hotel's roof, had been decorated with candles and something Angel Dust had referred to as fairy lights.

Music was playing from somewhere. Odd. Alastor didn't remember bringing anything up there to play music. He could solve that mystery later. His grip on the bouquet of Hell's native flowers tightened as his anxiety grew.

The poor things had died as soon as he had touched them. Oh well. If anyone could appreciate the beauty in one's death, it would be his king.

His king.

Ha. Alastor never thought he would be calling the man he once detested by such a title. However, Lucifer had proven himself worthy of such a title. Now, if the man would stop staring at him and give him an answer!

While he did enjoy leaving Lucifer flustered and speechless, he was becoming antsy. Vulnerability was not easy for him and made him uncomfortable. The Fallen Angel knew this, yet he was still standing there gawking at him.

He was about to snap when finally, finally, Lucifer spoke up. But now, Alastor wished that he had just stayed silent.

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But.... I can't accept your confession."

What? If this makes him happy then why did he...? Was Rosie wrong about Lucifer feeling the same as Alastor? No... Rosie was never wrong about these things. So, why?

"...What...? What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

Before he could stop him, Lucifer had disappeared in a swirl of red and glitter. Leaving Alastor all alone in deafening silence. What had just happened? Did he just get rejected? Had that pitiful man, that coward, just rejected him and ran away without explaining why?

What was this feeling? It.... hurt. Felt like whatever had been remaining of his heart was shattering. Digging his claws into the spot, Alastor felt his knees hit the roof tiles of the roof. However, he barely registered the feeling. He felt so numb.

'I'm sorry.'

Sorry? He was sorry?! Alastor would make sure he knew what that meant the next time he saw that poor excuse for a king! He'd rip the devil limb from limb and broadcast his screams throughout the Pride Ring. He'd do it until he was satisfied, knowing that Lucifer can't die. That he'd just regenerate quicker than any Sinner could ever dream of. Even if angelic steel was involved.

Alastor had locked himself away for the rest of the night once he found out that Lucifer would not be staying at the hotel for some time. He had planned to wreak havoc on that fool's room to teach him a lesson, but when he got in there, all he did was lay that stupidly oversized yet extremely comfortable bed like he had done so many times before. When he would stay up late to talk with Lucifer when he couldn't sleep.

If Lucifer thought that he could just leave, he had another thing coming. Alastor wasn't going to let him get away that easy. He'd drag that idiot king back to the hotel himself he need be, but he wasn't going to let the man that lit his heart on fire get away. Ever.

No matter what. Lucifer better enjoy what little solitude he was getting right now. It would be the last of it he'd be getting. Alastor couldn't let him out of his sight now. Not after he just ran away like that.

"Prepare yourself, Lucifer Morningstar. You will regret awakening these feelings and desires within me."

(Part 2)

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction #radioapple #hazbin hotel alastor #anon asks #asks #angst

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fluff-n-cookies · 1 year ago

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You may call me crow anon

Idk how any of this worls as i recently joined tumblr

But can i pls ask for platonic dabi who comes looking for sister reader after she moved out years ago from the todorkoi house and only keeps contat with fyumi, natsuo and occasionally rei?

Idl man

HI I don't know Either but WELCOME TO TUMBLR, I hope you enjoy your stay. I will add you to my anon list on my rules for requests page and. I hope to hear from you again, and fun fact you are my first EVER anon so thank you, It's my pleasure.

ANNNNDD for the sake of the story the reader has pink hair.

warnings Dabi tries to commit suicide. and some swearing.

RUN. do nothing but RUN.

RUN to find her. RUN to safety. RUN AWAY from the police.

Dabi's Inner monologue rang loud, louder than any other, louder than the sound of the police and the hero's trying to catch him. so, damn, loud.

Panting, the young 15 year old Dabi, who somehow managed to dye his hair and steal food for 2 years of his life, turned a swift corner into the alley way before jumping up to climb the fire shoot, it was now when it occurred to him.

(y/n) would not be happy to see the man you have become.

he froze for a second, scared, he did his best, he tried so hard to be a hero, a hero for his older sister, for she who believed in him when none else would, but it wasn't until the scorching pain of blood polling at his eye bags that he started to move again.

oh how he admired her, and her dreams of becoming rich, dreams of being someone other than their father daughter.

too bad they were broken down and beaten everyday.

too bad that Touya had to sit there and watch his darling sister, his one and only light, be dimmed and overshadowed.

it was worse he couldn't do anything.

it was worse he just could watch.

it was painful. even more so when at 16 she told him she'll be back soon, hugged their mom good bye, handed him a sheet of paper with the Words "We'll meet again" written in shabby hand writing, took the car and never cam back again, it wasn't for 4 hours at Touya realized something was wrong, it took Rei 1 day to notice something was wrong, it took 6 days for endeavor to notice, and 3 months before he actually started to care... that his car was gone. Fuyumi asked where "big sister" went, Enji never told her, and every time she would ask Rei, Rei would just burst into tears, eventually, Fuyumi stopped asking, Natsuo thought she was still at school, and Shoto simply forgot she existed. that year was the same year he faked his death, that was the year Touya Todoroki died, the day Dabi was born.

eventually he grew tired, the police had lost him, so had the heroes so why run when you're not being chased?

Dabi came to a stop, looking around before lighting a cigarette he stole from a convenience store sighing out the smoke, the hot smoke a huge contrast to the cool summer breeze, like you her kindness was a huge contrast to the rest of the family.

no one really acted right in the Todoroki household, their they were cold and brash, or had mental issues, most had daddy issues, and all should really go to therapy, she on the other hand was softer, kinder, a soul who needed helping but put the needs of other before herself. soft words, soft pink hair (a mix of white and red, odd since no-one else had pink hair.) and the most welcoming smile you ever saw.

she was always like that,

always such an angel.

Dabi leaned on the railing of the short building, smoking, reminiscing on memories of the past.

leaning too hard, and falling.

at this point it was intentional, how one to endure such horrors, who is the deity was cruel enough to taunt him by giving him the soul he adored the most and then ripping it right out of his hands?

it was a short fall, just as it was a short building, but he didn't land on concrete instead he landed on the dumpster.

greeted by the smell of dog shit, and the feel of soggy cardboard and black plastic garbage bags.

"the hell?" he whispered a sort of surprise that came to him as he realized this was not hell, but a smaller, stinkier, hell.

he was even more surprised when he realized he was not alone.

"oh dear! sir are you alright?!" a gentle voice yelled out, she was wearing a soft (favorite color) dress, and had the kindest eyes, that was the only way to describe her.

she helped him out of the dumpster, not even looking at his face.

just like (y/n) would

"hey, stay with me, we'll go to my apartment, just hold on tight."

she didn't even mind the smell of smoke on his T-shirt.

all he remembers after that is fighting, fight to stay awake, fight to thank the angel that is his savior.

then he remembers sinking into the soft cushions of a warm red or orange couch.

like fall, her favorite season. (sorry if you don't like fall)

then the angel came back, now is when she noticed the purple scorches, the piercing blue eyes, and the little white segments near the roots.

he was sure she was going to scream, he was sure she was going to run and flee, and call the police, but instead she carried on, gave him an ice pack, checked his temperature, check for any major wounds gave him some water.

nervously, she asked "I'm sorry to be asking this but are you by any chance a endeavor hater."

Dabi chuckled fighting back the blood from reaching his eyes this was her alright.

"(y/n), big sis," blood threatened to trickle down what was left of his cheeks.

poor girl, choked out a sob, scared to even embrace him scared he'll drift away like she drifted away from him, salty tears prickled the edges of her eyes.

"To-Touya," she gulped "I-"

she pulled him right toward her, holding him tight, just like she would when they were younger and Dabi had a nightmare and was scared, except now, Dabi was truly scared, sacred of both himself and the future, scared you would poof into vapor his arms if he hugged you too tight.

"I"M SORRY" she yelled out, letting her own tears fall.

that night was spent in a shabby apartment, that night was spent together, that bight Dabi promised himself.

I'm never letting you go, ever.

I TRIED MY BEST BUT IT WAS SHITTY ANYWAYS BYYEEEE

#bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #platonic yandere #bnha fluff #dabi todoroki #dabi x sister reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #todoroki toya x reader #dabi touya #mha touya #mha #bnha #todoroki touya #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki

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witchofhimring · 1 year ago

Text

Until there comes another

This series is being edited. I feel Alys came off as one dimensionally evil and the reader as a pretty flat character. So this will be heavily edited.

Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear

Pairings:

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Part 1: Queen you shall be

Part 3: Younger and more beautiful

Warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of stillbirth/miscarriages, death

How did it comes to this? A year ago you had been Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Now you were simply Lady Y/n, the King's former partner. By the Gods you had fought with everything you had. Your family and friends had thrown their support behind you. But it was no use against the Kings will. The High Septon and mysteriously died, some said of poison. Whether or not it was true mattered no, he was dead. Shortly after the King had a catspaw for the Septon. Then, in a trial you had been forbidden, the marriage had been dissolved. Twenty years erased without a thought.

The end was swift. They removed your title, your finery, your ladies and lastly your daughter. You cried out as Daenerys, newly thrust into adulthood, desperately clung to on. Your little girl was ripped from your arms. Aemond did not extend his mercy. Not even then. Your daughter was taken to a far off room, hardly fit for a Princess. You were not even given a place within the palace. A sept in the heart of the West was your new prison. Far away from any true help. The only one they felt you with was Floris Baratheon, who accompanied you all the way.

You tried to write to your daughter to the best of your abilities. But you never received a reply. Whether she ever got them was unknown to you. But you did get messages snuck in from the other lords and ladies who supported your cause. All loyalty to your husband must cease for the sake of your only child. Plotting did not cure the constant dreariness you felt locked in these ancient stone halls. They seemed to close in around you. The only people there were the Silent Sisters. Silent as the grave. You might have gone mad if you had not been hard at work to plan your daughters future and Floris.

The day, stuffed in an apple core, there was left a rolled up note. You made sure you were utterly alone before unraveling it.

Your Grace,

I have heard you plight from across the sea. In your position the situation is dire. But I have come with an offer that will please both parties, Gods willing. As the only surviving child of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen I wish to extend my hand to your daughter, Princess Daenerys Targaryen. This match will satisfy both parties and unite out houses. Please leave your reply under your mattress, one of my informants will receive it.

King Viserys Targaryen, Second of His Name

You new this was an incredible risk. It might not even by the long lost Prince who you had once lead armies against. But it was all or nothing.

You had wanted to leave this place for so so long. Three years inside its confinements and you would be leaving. Only it was not in the way you expected. Three months ago you woke with a great pain in your belly. It took hours to subside only to come the next day. And from then the decline was swift. You lost weight, hair thinned, your eyes became bloodshot. Still, you fought on. You stayed up conspiring with the exiled Prince. You had come to accept this was the way things would go.

Life was not easy for the royal family from what you heard. Alys, now Queen Alys, was vastly unpopular. It gave you a slight satisfaction to hear that people called your name during her coronation. She was finding out that being Queen was more than just enjoying power. It was carrying the complete weight of Westeros on your shoulders. From what you heard she no longer glided through the halls confidently. And her fertility, unfortunately, was no better than yours. She had lost two babies, finally, she had a daughter. A baby girl who most considered a bastard. You pitied this baby. This poor girl would not receive the same support your little girl would. She may receive the title your girl once, but it would never truly be hers.

One day, Alys visited you. It was not a total surprise. Somehow you knew that one day, when her hour was darkest, she would come. Whether to seeks advice or cursed you was unknown. You sipped the tea your belly would allow in. The moment Alys entered Floris hissed like a cat. She stood up but you held her hand. "To what do I owe this pleasure." The words were polite enough, however you remained seated in your chair. You felt no need to feel ashamed at your predicament. You had done nothing wrong and this woman knew it. Gone was the beautiful Alys of four years ago. You now saw something of yourself in her. She bent over slightly, a testament to how her breasts now ached. Her hair had lost its fine luster and hung lose about her like a mop. "Lady Floris, I will ask that you leave the room." "I will do so if the Queen requests it." She replied stubbornly. "And your Queen has just given a command." "Wearing another woman's things hardly makes you the Queen." Floris replied stubbornly. You knew this would not end well. Alys had guards just outside the door. "Floris, please wait outside. I doubt I shall be in danger." She looked ready to defy you. But upon seeing the resilient look in your eyes, finally departed. She knew from that look you would be fine. "So, you have come to visit." You said once the door had closed. Alys took a seat in front of you. Labored huffs escaped her. "The King has offered you amnesty and a comfortable retirement should you only deny you were ever Queen." So, she had come to challenge you. "I like to make a habit of telling the truth, Lady Alys. I do not think I will stop now." Alys's nails scrapped the wooden chair. "You are ill. I doubt you shall last much longer. If you were to die in favour of the King she would be well looked after." "Of course she will. Princess Daenerys is the next Queen." Alys sneered. "My daughter is next in line." She sneered. "As mine once was. And look where she is now." With a stumbled Alys lurched to her feet. "Is that a threat!" She hissed. You simply took another sip of tea. "When you married the King you set a president. Now any woman must watch out, for another just might take her place. And all daughters must fear for their place. Tell me Alys. If you fare no better than I what shall become of yours?" Alys was struggling to breath. You gestured to the tea pot. Alys drank before slumping back into her chair. "If I can not do this....if I can not give him at least this." She mumbled. Pityingly, you looked at her. "There is much, you will find, you can not give a man who has the world at his feet.

Your death drew closer. By the hour of the wolf you knew this was the end. They had allowed you this moment of solitude. One last meal before you were tucked into bed. Your eyes had become hazy, your belly hurt. You could hear Floris's sobs as the minutes went by. "Oh Floris. You are so good to me." Your cold fingers brushed her head. Tears rolled down her face and onto the sheets as she prayed to the Seven. Despite everything you felt as peace. You had done your best. Gods willing your daughter would be Queen one day. Queen Daenerys Targaryen. The words sounded so sweet to you. "Floris, please get me some paper." Floris protested, saying you needed to rest. You simply smiled. "My Lady, I shall get plenty of sleep soon." Paper was brought and you drafter your last note.

My beloved daughter,

I hour of my death comes I leave if the knowledge that you will be protected. For even if my woes the thought of you in despair gives me greater sorrow than anything I could suffer. Daenerys, you must be strong. The path ahead will not be an easy one and I am so sorry there was little I could do. As a mother it is my greatest wish to ensure the happiness of my child. I want you to be happy. Know that even gone I watch over you. I have always loved you, more than any worldly riches. You may feel alone at times, but I want you to know my love for you will never die.

Be Strong. I love you.

Queen Y/n

Y/n's hand slackened and took lost consciousness. And as her final moments drifted by she thought of a beautiful girl with silver hair, wearing a crown.

Floris's wails heralded a new dawn.

Note: Two down, two to go! I know this was probably not the ending you guys wanted for the reader but its a much better one than Alys will get. Also y'all comparing Alys to Rashta from Remarried Empress had me cracking😂.

Taglist:

@watercolorskyy

#alys rivers #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x alys #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader angst #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst

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hyperesthesias · 5 months ago

Text

Ramblin' Man and Other Sob Stories: The Tale of a Ghoul's Doomed Love Life.

RATING: MATURE words: 15,141. warnings: canon-typical violence, drug-use and addiction, language, mild sexual content, death of a partner, terminal illness, canon-compliant.

SUMMARY: A private conversation with Goodneighbor's Mayor John Hancock, in which he details how he found and lost the love of his life, and how he became a Ghoul.

author's notes: for the sake of this story, this piece utilizes the scrapped plot-point of Fahrenheit being Hancock's daughter.

song recommendations: Whiskey Sunrise by Chris Stapleton; Too Sweet by Hozier; Just Pretend by Bad Omens; Cleopatra by The Lumineers; Ramblin' Man by Allman Brothers Band.

AO3 LINK

I’m not known as a quiet kind of guy. I have the tendency to run my mouth. Ballsy, maybe. Impulsive, sure. I’d like to consider myself intuitive. People who know me – or who used to know me – wouldn’t exactly consider me smart, either. Hell, that’s what piqued my interest in Mentats in the first place. When I get an idea, I don’t easily let it go – something that can be a benefit, or a detriment, depending on how pessimistic you are. I consider myself a realist. Not something that’s often tied to intuition. Most realists I know are just pessimists in disguise. I prefer to see things the way they are: fucked, but not beyond recognition. Everything except for my face, maybe. But I only have myself to blame, there.

I wasn’t always this good looking. I was, actually, by all accounts, good looking at one point in time. At least, I liked to think so. Couldn’t seem to get many ladies to agree with me – they all seemed to focus on my brother. Never understood what they saw in the guy. But then again, we all have different faces we present to different people. Different people can bring out different aspects of ourselves, sometimes even things we didn’t know what we were capable of. That’s not always a good thing. But it’s not always a bad thing, either. Sometimes we can be pleasantly surprised with ourselves.

I know what you might be thinking – a guy like me, that’s not too hard, right? All jokes aside, sometimes it’s nice to know you’re still capable of something good. Especially when all else around you seems to be sinking into depravity and injustice by the minute.

I felt good once. Not high – not ecstatic. Not altered. I felt good. The feeling was organic, it came from within me. Not manufactured. I felt…like a decent person. Which isn’t easy in a place like this. It’s a feeling I’ll never be able to replicate. Doesn’t matter how many chems I get my hands on, I would never even try to replicate it – it was a feeling unto itself. Something that could never come from a bottle of Jet. Trying to recreate it with drugs, feels like a sin of some kind.

I’m not opposed to a bit of transgression, but even writing about it – about that woman…I can’t do it justice. Can’t do her any justice. Even though I’ve tried. It’s all I’ve wanted to do.

The only way I can describe it? The picture on a postcard. Something so idyllic, something so far out of reach – so idealized. It sounds kitschy, it feels kitschy. You know it’s a painting, you know it’s not really as pretty in real life, you know all that beauty only exists somewhere in an idealized past. But you can’t look away. You can’t look away. And you’re holding the stupid thing with as much care as you can – making sure the edges don’t fray, that the painting doesn’t fade. It represents something better, bigger than yourself: the way the sunset ought to be, the way it was all those hundreds of years ago. You don’t want to look away. And in the action of preservation, of preserving something beautiful, you find you’ve become a better person.

I know that doesn’t really make sense.

No one’s ever described me as pithy.

I tried to keep things good, I tried to preserve what I could. But nothing stays clean in this wasteland for long.

Wren was a breath of fresh air in a town where chems were the cleanest thing to inhale. She owned a well in the furthest corner of Goodneighbor – it was the cleanest water you could get for miles. It was only advertised through word of mouth, and Wren didn’t run her mouth to many people. Anyone who knew about the well, knew about Wren – but not everyone who knew Wren knew about the well. She was there before Vic and his boys, she was there after. She didn’t age – not in the same way as a Ghoul, but like something else entirely. She was a Smooth-Skin, and by all accounts she looked human. As the years went by, I thought maybe she was a Synth, and I finally found the courage to ask her as much. She only laughed, and asked if I was implying she was stiff in bed. I never did find out what she was, exactly. Or if she knew of some drug that kept her looking fine – and if I could take a hit off her, as if maybe it would fix me. I figured it must’ve been something in the water. It was the sweetest water I’ve ever tasted.

People used to say water doesn’t have a taste – but, really, it’s the pollution that socks you right in the mouth. That metallic twinge, that thick feeling of oil and rust, the tingle of radiation. But after enough chem use, you start to lose your sense of taste. Really, I think it’s for the better.

I met Wren before I became what I am now. She knew me since I was a wild and reckless youth – now I’m a wild and reckless wrong-side-of-forty. There were loads of roads into Goodneighbor, the home of good medicinals, if you knew where to look, and if you didn’t mind taking the back alleys. I wandered into a waterway system one night, that’s how I found the well. The passageway I entered was part of a water filtration system Wren came up with herself; I wound up wading runoff water, looking for the other end of the tunnel. Couldn’t find the light.

Instead, I found myself at the long end of a double barreled shotgun, staring at a bleak and brainless future if I didn’t come up with a good reason for trespassing, as she said. I fell head over heels for her the minute I laid eyes on her – both literally and figuratively. I was scrambling on the wet ground, pleading for my life. I must’ve looked as pathetic as I felt, because she had mercy on me. She put away the sawed-off and took me round to her cabin on her patch of land. Later, she told me she let me off the hook because she recognized me from her club – The Bird’s Nest; she said she knew me as the scrawny baby-faced kid trying to live his best life, one Mentat after the next. All I picked up from that later exchange was that she thought I was cute.

The Bird’s Nest club was on the outskirts of Goodneighbor. It was a classy joint, almost as exclusive as Wren’s well. The only way in was through private invitation. I got in in the first place by piggy backing off another acquaintance’s invitation, something that wasn’t exactly looked well upon. She told me she didn’t take kindly to intruders – at her well, or at her club, and as punishment for my intrusions, she said she’d find a use for me. She indentured me to servitude; I had more fun things in mind, but I worked off my crimes with janitorial service. I was instructed to clean the waste waterway, the very one she found me in; it took several days, but I scrubbed it top to bottom. After that, she had me clean The Bird’s Nest – ceiling to floor. I preferred the waterway. You don’t wanna know what kind of shit you can find on the floors of a nightclub.

Wren was as shrewd as she was beautiful. I eventually learned she distilled her own spirits with the water from her well. It made for a dedicated clientele, who couldn’t go back to any other sludge after tasting her whiskey – pure and crisp. Burned in all the right ways. Her competitors in the area all thought she was dealing something on the side; she was poaching customers left and right with the quality of her handiwork. They figured she had to be into something else to keep her retention numbers up so high. But it wasn’t drugs. Not at first, anyway. It was just…her. It wasn’t just her water that made people want to stay. It was her. She made you feel like you were the most important person on Earth, like you two had known each other since the beginning of Time. Like when you walked through her doors, you were coming home. Friendliness isn’t exactly common in the Commonwealth. Or anywhere around here, for that matter. I think people just wanted to feel…wanted. That’s how you felt with Wren.

I was there one day, mopping the floors, when three men came to her club, uninvited. Wren was behind the bar, with a shotgun under the counter. She greeted them as she would have anyone else: she was calm, quiet, she had this unassuming smile – could be used to disarm anyone, but it just as easily hid her own intentions. They demanded she pay them protection money.

“Why?” she asked. “I can protect myself just fine.”

They all looked at each other like grinning idiots. They stood there laughing at her. But Wren didn’t budge. She was leaned on the bar, with a rag in one hand, glancing at each of them – just waiting for them to make the first move.

“You want to keep this place in operation,” they said, “you’ll keep the boss happy.”

“I don’t answer to your boss,” she said. “I’m an…independent contractor. I take care of myself.”

I stayed a healthy distance away from the impending conflict. The air was rife with that frenetic energy, that electric charge you can feel right before a fight. I wasn’t always so keen to shoot first and ask questions later. That was a skill I learned over time.

“We’ll take care of you and this shack of yours if you don’t hand over the money.” The three men all drew their weapons and started squaring their shoulders.

I can still remember the way her face looked as she stared them down: almost serene, unmoving. Like she wasn’t bothered by these brutes coming into her place, threatening to kill her and burn her place to the ground. She took the rifle out from underneath the bar and set it in front of her. “One of you will make it out of here alive. I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves who you would like it to be.”

I took that as my cue to duck behind something sturdy.

All I remember after that is the sound of bullets flying and landing in soft flesh. Bodies hit the wood floors, and I could feel their weight reverberate through the planks from my hiding spot, behind a wall at the far corner of the club. Glass shattered, and I heard running footsteps – and for a minute I was worried Wren left me behind with those thugs; but, what did I matter to her anyway? She wouldn’t put her life on the line for me, a thief and a trespasser.

When the gunfire sounded like it died down, I risked looking over the wall and saw the last man standing giving Wren a beat down. Her rifle wound up across the room, it was closer to me than it was to her. He had one hand around her throat, and the other pulling on her hair. She had one arm trying to loosen his grip around her throat, and her other hand shoved into his face, digging her nails into his ugly mug. I panicked – didn’t know what to do. The worst thing I could do was get myself got in the process of trying to help. The smartest thing I could think of was tossing the shotgun back to her.

She kicked the butt of the rifle upwards with a flick of her foot, and caught it – whacking the guy over the head. It left a mark – he stumbled just enough for her to pry free from his grip. The minute she got her footing back, she shot the bastard square in the shoulder. Blood spattered onto her as he was blasted back at the force of the shotgun pellets. He scrambled as quick as he could, and flew out the door before she could fire off another shot.

The minute he was gone, Wren collapsed to the floor, shotgun at her side, her hand around her throat. I took the chance and came out of my hiding place, not sure if the woman was going to keel on the spot. She was covered in blood, could barely breathe. I offered to patch her up, but she told me, as best she could with a hoarse voice, that none of the blood was hers. All she asked me for was a cup of water. It was the least I could do, I figured.

I did as she said: grabbed a glass from behind the bar, and filled it with that crisp, clean water. I knelt beside her and helped her drink it, she had trouble moving her neck – but I noticed, there wasn’t a single bruise on it, where that thug’s hand would’ve been.

After she finished every last drop in the glass, she turned to me, and told me my debt was paid.

“I spared your life,” she said, “and you saved mine. Consider us even.” Her voice still wasn’t quite what it was before the attack, but her breath was coming back to her, and she looked and sounded as though she’d only been involved in a minor scuffle. “Thank you,” she said, and she tried looking me in the eye, but I couldn’t hold it.

I looked around at the two remaining bodies of those attackers, and felt more of a coward than I did when I first landed in Goodneighbor for good, after Diamond City. The guilt was worse than the crash after a bottle of Jet. That was my first up-close and personal encounter with Vic’s boys. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do jack shit,” I scoffed. “I coulda done more.”

“You have no loyalty to me,” she said. “The fact that you felt obligated to help, someone to whom you owed a debt, says more about your character than what you might or might not have done in the idealized version of yourself.” She swallowed, her hand massaging her neck, but still I couldn’t see even the trace of a bruise left behind.

I didn’t allow myself to feel the weight of her words – the guilt of Diamond City, of all those Ghouls, displaced, dead, or worse, was still too fresh in my mind. And at that time of day, I was still too sober to let myself feel anything at all. She stood, and I sat there, suddenly realizing I would have to mop the floor all over again.

She told me I didn’t have to stay there anymore, my debt was paid, I no longer had any obligation to her or to The Bird’s Nest. I told her I didn’t have anywhere else to go – which was the truth as a drifter, of course, but it was also my own way of sticking around as long as I could. The Bird’s Nest was the first place where I felt like I had a place. Wren bartered my services as a janitor for room and board. I slept in a repurposed broom closet in the back of the building, and even with living there, Wren was somehow always up and at ‘em earlier than me.

There was a separate, locked room on the opposite side of the building where I stayed. I could hear her tinkering away in there from sun-up to the second the club doors opened. Whenever she left the room, even for a moment, she locked the door behind her. The only key was on her person at all times; she kept it inside her…unmentionables. What? A guy like me, I’m allowed a look at a rack like that. On occasion.

I began to wonder if the rumors were true, if Wren was selling something other than spirits to keep her clients happy. Something harder, something that lasted longer than whiskey, and that was maybe purer than Jet. It was part of my own selfish reason I was interested in staying as long as I did. That, and, I…I started to feel things for Wren. Things I’d never felt with anyone else. She was everything I wasn’t: beautiful, smart, brave. Being close to her made me feel that maybe I could be those things, too, by osmosis. But I figured a woman like that, she’d never give me a second look. I was used to it – being passed over, mostly invisible. It was my brother who got most of the love, the attention, the good shit in life. Maybe that’s why I like talking so much: I’m an attention seeker at heart.

But I didn’t seek out her attention, I knew there wasn’t a shot between us. I knew what I was, besides a coward: a junkie. She knew it, too. But she never treated me any different. She knew the kind of shit that went down on the club floor – the chems that passed hands, the laced smokes, the patrons huddled in the corners, looking for something extra to take the edge off. Wren was never a fool. Which is exactly why I knew nothing could happen between us.

Vic visited her personally a week later. I wasn’t on the floor when he came by; I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to, around Wren’s secret backroom, when I heard the commotion. She was laughing at him. She had this beautiful laugh, elegant, like something out of an old film. But this laugh was different, it wasn’t something I’d heard from her before, it was sardonic, callous. Like she was making fun of him. Didn’t exactly seem like the smartest move from my vantage point – but who was I to point fingers? I didn’t have the stones enough to help her, either way.

I still remember the sound of his palm hitting her cheek. Her head whipped with the force of his slap. She held a hand to her face for only a second, before she brushed her hair away, and set her eyes on him again. She still had that laugh on her, though, even when he told her to wipe that smile off her face.

“Even if I was in the business of recreational remedies, I wouldn’t give you a dime, Vic. I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my operation.”

“Then you won’t be surprised when accidents start to happen,” he said. “But if I were to have the funding, I might be able to prevent these so-said accidents before they happen..”

“Don’t try to extort me, Vic. It’s not a language you speak well. You wanna know what I hear instead? Cowardice. I hear a man who gets off on watching others suffer. I hear a child’s tantrum – a child who has never felt in-control a day in his life. I’ve been here longer than you’ve been alive, Vic. I’ll be here long after you’re dead. I’ve seen men like you come and go. It’s never pretty. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about your own accidents.”

“You threatening me?”

“I don’t need to. I’ve seen enough to know men like you never last long.”

First time I heard her say that, I couldn’t help but wonder who’d be stupid enough to go up against a guy like Vic. Well, we all know how that turned out. Guess ‘stupid’ wasn’t far off.

She let him live. He walked out of The Bird’s Nest without a scratch. Same couldn’t be said for Wren, she was still rubbing the side of her face. From where I stood around the backroom, I couldn’t see a mark on her, though. But that being said, I was too preoccupied with the guilt of trying to catch a glimpse of what was behind that secret door of hers while she wasn’t looking. I went behind her back, literally, trying to see what I could see through the cracks of the door, trying to see if she was hiding anything interesting – interesting to me, anyway, in the way of chems. All I could make out were these silver pots and glass vials. Looked enough like a chem lab to me, though there wasn’t much to go on. Could have just as easily been part of her distillery.

I decided to get away from the backroom door before she found me, and I’d have to half-ass explain myself. I walked onto the floor, instead, and inquired about her encounter.

“He won’t give up,” she said. She was wringing her hands through her bar rag, she looked nervous. I’d never seen Wren nervous up ‘til then.

“What’re you gonna do?” It’s not like I had any heroic ideas at that point.

“Do what I’ve always done. Keep my head down. I won’t be picking any fights with Vic,” she said. “But I’ll finish them if he sends them my way.”

“Sounds like he isn’t giving you much of a choice.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.” She looked at me as she said it. Like she wanted me to really hear it. “That’s what he thrives on.” She threw the towel over her shoulder, and placed a finger along my jaw, guiding me to meet her eyes. “You always have a choice, John.”

That was part of the problem, really. I always had a choice. A choice for good, a choice for evil – evil’s a little dramatic, but no one would call a Jet addiction rational, either. My parents didn’t expect much out of me. Not that there was much to aspire to around here. My brother was always the rising star. The Golden Child. It was my choice to leave them. It was my choice to pick up a bottle of Jet for the first time. It was my choice to spy on Wren, even after all she’d done for me.

It was my choice to shoot up one night at The Bird’s Nest. All I wanted was to forget – just for a minute, just for a second. Forget the guilt. Forget the fear. Forget the man I was, who I wanted to be – who I knew I could never be. Just forget it all. Just for a minute.

It was a minute too long. I overdosed. Flat on the floor, fresh out of dignity.

It’s ironic, really. I used to do anything and everything I could to forget. Now I’m a regular card holder at the Memory Den. Doing anything and everything I can to remember. To relive. Wren, and everything about her.

She found me on the floor, I guess. That’s what she told me. The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed, still unsure what planet I was on. I think I might’ve thrown up on her. But if I did, she never said anything about it.

I just remember the sound of her voice as she said my name: “John…” It was a sigh, it was familiar. It was disappointment. Or, at least, that’s what I thought.

She was wiping my face with a wet towel, I pushed her hand away. “I don’t want your pity.”

“If I pitied you, you wouldn’t be here. Pity is passive. It does nothing.” She dipped the cloth into a basin of her water and passed it along my face again. “I’m worried, John. There is a difference.”

“I don’t need anyone else’s disappointment. I got enough of it back home.”

“I never said I was disappointed in you. In fact, I’m rather impressed by you.”

I scoffed, and almost pushed her away again, but my arms barely had any strength left in ‘em. “You got the wrong guy.”

“You’re John McDonough, aren’t you? Brother of the Diamond City mayor. I heard what you did for those who were displaced. The children among them. I don’t imagine it was easy to go against the word of your own brother. Although, I’m curious as to why it was he who pursued a career in politics, and not you. You graduated at the top of your class – beating out your brother’s own academic records.”

“If this is a polite way of asking what the hell happened to me, consider me still insulted.”

She only smiled and shook her head; she pressed the bowl of water to my mouth and helped me drink from it. “Not at all. I mean only to say I am impressed. Both by your compassion and discernment.”

“Yeah, well. No one’s ever accused me of being a genius. That’s what the Mentats are for.”

She thought it was funny. “Mentats enhance what’s already there. It doesn’t come from nothing.”

No one ever gave a fuck enough about me to listen, to appreciate, to just…let me be me. I swear, it was a better high than anything I could find in a bottle. “How’d you know who I am, anyhow?”

“It’s my job to know who I let into my establishment. With whom I work. It’s how I’ve survived this long. Knowing who’s who.”

“That why you’re so confident you can wait out Vic and his boys?”

“Partly,” she shrugged, and poured a tablespoon of something white and powdered into the rest of the water in the bowl. She had me drink it; it was bitter and fizzy, but it settled my stomach. “That, and I know men like him never operate long without making enemies. If it isn’t one of his own men who turns on him, it will be someone else he shouldn’t have crossed.”

“You have a lot of faith in other people.”

“I have faith in what I see.” She looked at me as she said it. Like she wanted to know I heard it.

That time I didn’t look away. That time I heard it. I felt it.

After that, she had me working more closely with her, like a personal assistant. She didn’t demand I get clean. She didn’t expect me to be anything other than what I was, who I was. She treated me with respect, like I was an intelligent creature, like I had a brain. It wasn’t something I was used to. But it was good exercise intellectually. A part of me felt like I was living up to whatever potential I might’ve left behind in Diamond City. The only two rules she laid down: don’t get shitfaced on the clock, and don’t go into the locked backroom. Easy enough.

But we always want things we can’t have, don’t we?

She trusted me. She didn’t have to say it. But she did anyway.

She was in her office, tired, more tired than a night’s sleep could fix. A hand on her head, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular; I came in through the door to tell her I’d finished restocking the bar, when I saw her. I didn’t say anything, I just stood there, wondering if she even noticed me.

I called out to her, but she didn’t hear me, so I took the chance of walking in without permission. The towel over my shoulder, I came beside her, hoping she’d see me out of the corner of her eye. I wasn’t exactly keen on being on the wrong side of her sawed off again.

“Wren?” I said again.

That time, she jumped, and lucky for me, she realized who was talking to her before she pulled the gun strapped to the underside of her desk. “John…” She exhaled and rubbed her face. “I didn’t hear you, forgive me.”

“It’s alright,” I tried not to sound as worried as I was. “Got something on your mind? You look preoccupied.”

She looked at me with this fatigued smile, and shook her head. “Trying not to think of my failures. Seems to be all I can think about when I close my eyes.”

“You’re talking to the expert of failure,” I said, hoping to see her laugh. “Though I don’t imagine you’d be partial to my preferred coping mechanisms.”

“Maybe you’d be surprised,” she raised a brow.

I leaned my hip on her desk, arms crossed. “Oh yeah?”

“You’re not the first person in the Commonwealth to use a crutch – to deal with all the shit we see day to day.” She sat back in her chair as she looked at me. “You won’t be the last. All we can do is make sure people don’t suffer needlessly.”

The way she said it, it was like she knew something I didn’t. I got to thinking maybe it had something to do with that secret room of hers. Maybe she was cooking up a drug capable of keeping its user sane. A seemingly impossible feat, but by that point, I was convinced Wren was capable of anything – anything good especially. “You got an idea on how?”

She took a deep breath in and shook her head once. “Making sure people know they have somewhere they can go. That they have a friend. If they need it.” She paused, her eyes looking at nothing in particular again. She looked washed out, like something was eating her from the inside. Like the air passed right through her, leaving her a ghost. It was terrible. Then something crossed her face, like she thought of something that unsettled her, and she turned to me: “You know I’m your friend, don’t you, John?” She asked as though she were afraid I would say no.

I knelt down. “I know. I know that. Hell, you’re the only real friend I think I’ve ever had. You’ve never had an unkind word to say about me, and everyday I work to earn that.” She looked at me, and there was a sadness in her that I don’t think I’ve seen in anyone else – a grief that was too cruel for someone like her. “You know…You know that I’m a friend, too, right? Friends are hard to come by. I want to be your friend. Despite myself.”

She put her hand on my face, and ran it through my hair. There wasn’t an ounce of harm in her. She just smiled at me and nodded. “I know.”

I wanted to tell her then and there that there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for her – but both of us would’ve known it was a lie. The best I could do was steal a kiss on her hand. Her skin was soft, and while mine wasn’t exactly as good-looking as it is now, at that time I only had a few scorch marks; I was still weathered from the harsh winds and Sun. Her skin felt as if it’d never been touched by the radiation. Like a feather – Like I could kiss it all over, and it would never leave a mark. I wanted to do all that and more, but I settled for a stolen kiss, instead.

Wren was supposedly older than Vic, himself, which would’ve made her older than me, and any of my family and friends – save for the Ghouls who were around since before the War. I couldn’t make sense of it, she was beautiful, youthful, and not a day over gorgeous. But I learned a long time ago, the less you know, the less you’re liable for, so I didn’t ask questions that I thought were above my paygrade: my pay being room and board. I enjoyed not being homeless, and besides it’s impolite to ask a woman her age, you know.

She recruited my help on something important, she said, it was something no one else was supposed to know about. At first I thought I might finally get a look inside that secret room, but regardless of how curious I was about those vats and vials, nothing could have prepared me for what she showed me, instead. There was a room behind the The Bird’s Nest that was dug into the ground; it was covered in tarps and mud walls, with a crooked skylight window built into the dirt. Turns out it was a greenhouse. Wren had a garden of bright flowers – they were all kinds of pink, yellow, white, some all of those colors at once, with big green leaves, and long pollen-y things in the flowers. It was like something out of a picture book. I’d never seen anything like it, especially up close, in person.

She needed me to help prune and harvest some of the green shoots. I told her I didn’t want to fuck it up, that she shouldn’t have let me in her greenhouse, I was bad luck. All she said was that I wasn’t getting out of work that easy. She put a pair of scissors and gloves in my hand, told me where to snip, and to get to work.

Wren went around the greenhouse collecting what she could, picking the shoots she wanted, and putting them into her apron. The whole thing was surreal. I had to check to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. But sure enough, it was real – all of it. She had this white ribbon in her hair, it was pulled back, out of her face. The way the sunlight came in through the skylight, it made her look like some kind of saint. I was damn near ready to believe it, too.

We worked til my shirt was soaked from sweat. It was fucking hot in that greenhouse, the air was thick, and it felt like I was drowning in the humidity. I never thought I’d be ungrateful for water, in any form, but I guess too much of anything ought to kill you. She led me back inside The Bird’s Nest and told me to leave whatever I’d collected by her locked room.

I did as she said, and waited, out of sight, hoping to see into the room when she went in to work. When she dragged the baskets of plants inside, I could see a better set up of what looked to be a laboratory of some sort, and little empty vials waiting to be filled. I was sure that she was brewing something good – something better than anything you could find on the street. Between the plant crop, and her admitting to her own using habits, paired with the fresh needle marks on her arms, I was convinced she was going to flood the market with something sweet. Maybe even push Vic out of Goodneighbor with the profits. It seemed like a good plan, in my mind. But I knew better than to ask. I didn’t want to spook her, I didn’t want to ruin my chances of having first taste of whatever she was cooking. I decided to wait it out, see if she would offer me any as a reward for good behavior.

It wasn’t all selfish, though. And it wasn’t all one-sided. That’s what scared me the most. As the months went by, she would call me for errands that didn’t need doing, for advice she already thought of. She told me, really, it was just because she needed an excuse to talk to me.

“You don’t need to make an excuse, baby. I know I’m easy to talk to.”

She just laughed. I liked making her laugh. It was the one thing I was good at.

(Farrah, skip to page thirteen.) When she first kissed me I thought I’d taken too much the night before, that I was still dealing with the hallucinogenic consequences. I thought maybe I’d imagined her – that the past eight months were actually a dream that’d gone by in the blink of an eye, that I’d wake up in the gutter of some back alley where I belonged. Then she kissed me again. And I knew my mind couldn’t make up anything that good. It had to be real.

I was worried I’d contaminate her. I was worried all my bad luck, all my failures, my past – all of it, would somehow change her for the worse. I didn’t want that. She deserved better than that. Than me.

Didn’t stop me from sleeping with her, though.

That’s how Farrah happened. Fahrenheit, she calls herself now. But her mother named her Farrah.

Wren made the first move. I wouldn’t have dared. She was classy about it, she was always the romantic type. She didn’t use other people for her own advantage. When she asked something, she meant it – especially in private matters. She needed to know I wasn’t inebriated, that I wasn’t acting out of clouded judgment, that she wasn’t taking advantage of me. Hell, I wouldn’t have minded if she did, but she wasn’t that kind of person.

I did everything I could to show her just how grateful I was. How much she meant to me. Night and day, anytime she called, I was there when she needed me – for anything at all. I wasn’t her commodity, but I was just that eager. Didn’t matter who knew, wasn’t anything they could do about it. I was hers, and I wore it like a badge.

She was gentle with me. She didn’t need to be, but she was. It wasn’t just sex. It was something else entirely. A kind of high I can never chase down again. Vulnerable – my purest, realest self. That kind of elevation you can’t get anywhere else other than with the person you’re meant to be with. I think those months might’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been, and probably will ever be.

Of course, I have a knack for ruining good things.

Wren got us something special one night – a little butterfly shaped pill, meant to be shared by two; you broke it in half down the middle, and held one wing under your tongue. It was meant to incite an erotic experience, capable of bringing people together in a way they’d never been before.

Goddamn, did it work. Best sex of my life.

It was like a piece of myself fused with her. I could almost feel it, somewhere in my chest. The deeper I kissed her, the deeper I was inside her, the more I felt myself tethered to her. The world changed, and everything seemed brighter – it was pitch black, middle of the night, but the room felt as bright as day. Every scrape of her nails into my back felt hot, like sunlight. I couldn’t feel an ounce of pain if I wanted to.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, full of ecstasy. She glowed, bright colors – like the flowers in her greenhouse. She was all the colors of a sunset, as sweet as fruit, and made up of all the sounds a goddess would make. She had her legs wrapped around me all night long, barely let me breathe. I loved the way she looked when she enjoyed herself – especially when I was causin’ it.

(It’s safe now, Farrah. Mostly.) I woke up earlier than her, the Sun wasn’t even up yet. I laid there in her bed, still coming down from the night before. I could feel the heaviness of a crash coming on, and I wasn’t keen on being her downer in the morning. I had the mind to dip into my own supply of whatever was in my stash; I knew I had some MedX in my other room, and I figured I could slip away while she slept, and come back before she woke up for another few hours’ sleep.

I managed to get out of bed without waking her, and I was almost out the door. I was almost out the door. I should have…just walked out the door. I should have just…

You ever have a memory, and remembering it is like watching it happen in slow motion all over again? And all you want to do is yell at yourself to do the opposite of whatever it was you did?

Her clothes were on the floor. But the key to that room…it was just sitting there on her night stand. It was too easy. She was out, completely — I’d worn her out good. It was like I was watching myself from the third-person while I did it. I couldn’t stop myself. There wasn’t really any reason, other than morbid curiosity and the not-so-subtle hopefulness that I’d find something worth doping up on. I’d be in and out of there without her knowing, no harm, no foul.

The key fit perfectly, and the door opened with a shove. There were silver, pressurized vats, and some kind of glass distillation process set up. All of it was working, going, even though she wasn’t there to supervise it. I began to think maybe I had been wrong, that it wasn’t some new kind of chem, but that the plants were add-ins to her whiskey. But at the end of the distillery, the glass tubes were collecting droplets of something dark red – almost a rust color — into a vial. It wasn’t a quarter full.

There was a small refrigerator next to this whole set up, and I looked inside thinking maybe she had a bottle of something good I could nip. Turned out, it was only more vials – three of ‘em – and two bags with dates written on them, three months apart, the earliest one being only a couple weeks ago. I grabbed one of the vials and twisted it open; she already had three, and more were on the way, supposedly. It was worth at least a taste. The smell was…odd. Pungent – like iron and compost. Wasn’t exactly appetizing. But wasn’t exactly a deterrent, either. I’d had worse.

The taste was just as bad – it almost had a soft grainy-ness to it, like soft silt. It left a tang in the mouth, and it went down harsh. Whatever it was supposed to do, just the act of drinking it was starting to kill my vibe. It was only then I started to realize maybe I shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing. The shame was setting in, and I was starting to panic, realizing I didn’t know what to do with the empty vial. I didn’t know how to get rid of it without Wren finding out it was me who took it.

I had to get back to the room. Return the key, lie back down, and hope that whatever I’d just swallowed wasn’t going to kill me in the next twenty minutes.

But it was already too late.

I turned around, and Wren was standing there.

I’ll never forget the look on her face. I knew, in that moment, everything everyone had ever said about me was true: worthless, stupid, selfish junkie.

“What have you done?” The sound of her voice, the betrayal in it, the horror – I can’t get it out of my head.

There was nothing I could say, there was nothing in my head other than regret. “Wren…”

She was starting to cry. I’d never seen her cry before. She grabbed the vial out of my hand, and checked the refrigerator. “It takes me a whole year to make just one – one of these vials! I give my life to make them! I give of my own body – my own blood!” She lifted the sleeve of her robe and showed me the needle marks. “Do you know what you’ve done?” she cried. “You’ve just drank my own blood!” She threw the vial at me and it shattered on a wall behind me. She grabbed the bags from the refrigerator and held them up to me. “My blood!” She sobbed, and checked the distillery, making sure I hadn’t fucked anything else up.

I was starting to feel sick. I couldn’t tell if it was from whatever it was I’d just taken, or if it was because I couldn’t handle the idea that I’d vaporized the greatest relationship I’d ever had, and would ever have. I couldn’t hold it down, and I started to heave, my body wanted to spit it back out.

“Out! Get out!” she yelled at me, and pushed me out the door just as I threw it up. “It wasn’t meant for you anyway! All it will make you is sick and ill. A year of my life, in one bottle – to give to others who need it. Who need it more than me!” She pounded her fist on her chest, on her heart. “People who rely on me, John! Men, women. Children! The very ones you saved – they rely on me. On what you’ve just wasted,” she was practically shaking with anger as she looked at me and the vomit on the floor. “The only hope Ghouls might have for normalcy.”

I was trying to get back on my feet, still not sure if anything else was going to come back up – my head was spinning and my throat burned. At that point, I wasn’t completely comprehending what she was saying, and at first I thought she meant I was going to turn into a Ghoul. Turns out that didn’t happen until later. What she meant, instead, was something impossible: a cure for ghoulification. I didn’t understand at the time.

I didn’t understand a lot of things.

“I’ll work it off,” I said, trying to keep my stomach from flipping. “I’ll work – A year, a year you said?” I spit something on the floor as I finally got to my knees. “I’ll work…–”

The way she looked at me…with anger and disgust. I deserved it. And more. But nothing hurt more than when she turned her face away from me. “There is nothing you can do to fix this.”

I begged her, on my knees, practically grasping the hem of her robe for her mercy. “Please – I’ll work – I’ll work it off. I’ll work the seasons. I’ll do anything. I’ll do…”

She still didn’t look at me. But I could tell her anger had turned into something else: heartbreak. “I don’t want you to.” She cried. “I want you to leave.”

I sat there, begging whatever higher power there was out in the universe for all of this to be a dream. A nightmare. That I would wake up next to her, in her bed; that it’d be morning, that I’d get to hold her, that it’d be us and nothing else. So many times before, I’d been the one to leave when things got rough. The one time I wanted to stay, the one time I wanted to make it right, instead…I couldn’t.

I didn’t know at the time that she was in the family way, otherwise there would have been nothing she could have said, nothing she could have done to get rid of me. I would have found a way to stay. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself. Who knows the reality of things. Promises we make to ourselves tend to be the flimsiest. But I like to think even I couldn’t stoop that low.

Again, I was a drifter. I began to wonder if that was all there was for me. I started to believe it. That there was nothing else – just alleyways and gutter beds. Vic’s boys were becoming bolder, terrorizing the population every chance they could get, trying to keep them in line: target practice in their own personal games of lethal darts. The only thing that kept me going was the hope of feeling okay again. The next high, the next score – those moments, ephemeral, transient, where I felt like a person again. I thought I was at my lowest. I didn’t think there was any way for me to feel any worse than I did.

With every high, the lows got worse. The crashes, the lulls – they were mind numbing, and not in the fun way. I felt like a living, breathing sack of shit. Even the reflections of myself in the gutter puddles were too much to look at. The thought of myself made my skin crawl, and every waking moment was a struggle to get to the next waking moment.

That’s when I came across a chem-maker at the border of Goodneighbor, he had a laboratory on the outskirts of a travel route towards Diamond City. He was a Ghoul, made shit for the hell of it, because he liked to. He used to be a chemist, apparently, but I was too strung out to listen to his life story. He offered me his cheap shit, but the usual orders of Jet and Mentats weren’t doing it for me anymore. I needed something else – something that would change…me. Who I was. If I could find that, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad from there on out. Famous last words.

He offered me a bottle of Day Tripper, and my face must’ve done the talking on how annoyed I was because the old guy got offended.

“You don’t get it,” I said. “I don’t want to just see a different world. I want to be different. In the world.”

He looked at me, like he pitied me, and he shook his head. “I don’t got anything that can help you there, kid. Ain’t nothing that can change you, but you. But I got things that can make life a little more worthwhile in the meantime.” He tried to push the Day Tripper on me again.

He went on and on, and my mind started to wander. I noticed a bottle on a shelf behind him that looked similar to Wren’s stuff: it was a little glass vial, filled with a rust colored liquid. “What’s that?” I pointed.

He immediately shut me down. “No – you don’t want that. That’ll change you in all the wrong ways. Not the kind you’re looking for.”

“Where’d you get it?” I thought maybe Wren sold some of her stuff to dealers around Goodneighbor, hoping it would get to the right hands. Didn’t sound like her style, though.

He told me it was a relic from some old time religion that wasn’t around anymore. It was meant to turn people into Ghouls, on purpose. It was used as some kind of transformation ritual, rumored to have hallucinogenic properties. I looked at the guy talking to me, a Ghoul himself, and thought it didn’t sound so bad. He looked pretty much as bad as I felt. It was just more visible. He kept talking, but I was wondering what I would look like – what it would be like to look in a puddle and see someone else for a change. Someone with a different face. Someone who I deserved to see.

“I’ll take it.”

“I’m not selling it to you, kid,” he scoffed.

I wasn’t exactly flush with caps, but there was one thing I had – it was the only thing that meant anything to me. I thought it might help the chemist, too. Inside my jacket’s inner pocket was a plastic bag, filled with a pressed flower. It was a flower from Wren’s garden, a closed blossom. I took it, before I shot everything to hell, half because I was fascinated with the thing, and half because I wanted a piece of her close to me. But looking at it, debating whether or not to barter it for the vial, I decided I wanted to put the past behind me. I wanted to let her go. For her sake, really. That maybe, on some level, if I was still holding onto her, I was still bringing her down – even from a distance.

I gave him the flower, and he gave me the vial. I didn’t say anything else.

The liquid had a similar texture – silty, left a residue on the tongue. The taste was way worse, though. I almost threw that up, too. But I managed to keep it down, managed to ride out the first few minutes of discomfort until the high kicked in.

It was the weirdest, most incredible thing I’d ever experienced: It felt like dying in slow motion. Saying it that way sounds bad, but it was beautiful. I felt invincible – like I was transcendent of any plane of existence. Like nothing could hurt me – Like I had a purpose, a meaning. The world felt like it should, how I imagined it might’ve in its most perfect form: lush, green, sublime. Nothing could bring me down. It lasted longer than anything else I’d ever taken: three days. One hit. And on the third day, I woke up a different person.

The ghoulification didn’t happen overnight. It was subtle. It started with the color of my skin – marbley and patchy; then like spoiled Cram. Wounds opened, skin split, things sagged on me that I didn’t think could sag. By the first week, I was in a lot of pain. I managed to get my hands on some MedX and it helped keep me sane enough to get through to the second week. By that time, things on me were breaking down; my eyes were the first things to change. That was weird. I’d had blue eyes before. Seeing them turn black all over – that was a trip.

Week three came around, and I was starting to have regrets. I got what I wanted: looking in the mirror was an experience in itself. I was a completely different person. But one wrong move and my nose dislodged. I had to rip the rest off, myself. You’d have thought I’d lost a fight to a leprotic armadillo. This was no longer the solution I thought it was.

It’d been six months since I’d left Wren, and I was praying to any and every god I could think of that she would have mercy on me again. Just one more time. That maybe this time I could take one of her vials for the right reason. The cosmic irony wasn’t lost on me that the very thing of hers I’d squandered, was what I needed. I didn’t care what I’d have to do to make things right with her. I set out to The Bird’s Nest, hoping to grovel. Hoping to ask for forgiveness. Hoping, maybe, she still loved me. The way I still loved her.

It was gone. All of it.

The only thing left of The Bird’s Nest was its still smoldering wood skeleton. I ran into the wreckage, terrified I’d find Wren’s body, or what might’ve been left of her. I didn’t find anyone, there were no remains of anyone in the debris, as far as I could tell. All that was left in her bedroom was a half-burnt photograph, it’d only survived from being tucked under her mattress. It was a photograph of us, taken by some hot-shot from her club; we were in the background, talking. It was a passing moment, made immortal. I’ve kept it ever since. The next thing I did was look for that locked room of hers, hoping to find a vial of Ghoul-cure that might’ve survived. I managed to find one, but it’d been broken, probably exploded in the fire. I licked whatever droplets I could from it, though. The rest of her equipment was totaled. Nothing survived.

Her greenhouse was torched, too. Every plant razed to the ground, burnt to a crisp.

I walked to the well, hoping to at least slake some thirst. But the drink I scooped into my mouth was bitter – sour. Tasted like chemical. The water’d been tainted.

It was Vic. I knew it in my bones.

I’d never felt more powerless.

There was no way of finding where she went, where she escaped to. If she had another hide-out somewhere, I didn’t know about it. If Vic took her, there was no way I would’ve been able to get her back – at that point. The one thing in my life that I loved, and that loved me back…was gone.

I was back on the street after that. There wasn’t much left for me. Other than survive. And watch my transformation progress.

It was a couple months after that when Vic’s boys went on a particularly bad tirade. People were getting sick of the bullshit Vic was letting loose on the streets. People were broke, and the broker they were, the fewer places they had to go – especially when Vic started to try his hand at buying real estate from already destitute homeowners. People were dying. They were getting tired of being hunted for sport.

Vic’s boys liked the thrill of the hunt – The Most Dangerous Game, as it were. They were goons, sure, but they were sick. Twisted. With how many people were displaced, hiding places were getting scarce. I knew of a utility access point with room enough for two, maybe three people tops, if you all squeezed together.

A group of drifters were looking for a place to hide as Vic’s boys were approaching. I was already in the access point, about to close the door when I saw them frantically looking for a place to hide. They didn’t see me, but I was about to wave them over, when I saw the tyrants’ shadows around the corner. I froze. I debated what to do – I could call them over, and risk them exposing my hiding spot. Or I could just stay still. Close the door.

There were three slits in the metal door that I could see out of when I closed it. That’s when I saw one of the drifters try and take a stand against Vic’s boys. He was done for the minute he opened his mouth. But he told it straight – that people were fed up with their terror tactics. He was dead the second they slammed his head into the ground, blood and brain matter everywhere. But they just kept going. They just kept going…

…And I just sat there, inside that little closet, praying they didn’t hear me crying, praying I wouldn’t be next, all until the beating stopped. His blood was on the access door when I finally opened it.

Everyone has their breaking point. That was mine. I went on a bender, trying to erase everything I’d witnessed from my memory – trying to get the stink of the catastrophic fire at The Bird’s Nest out of my nonexistent nose. Whatever it was, however much of whatever it was, it didn’t matter, it went down the hatch or up the vein. I just wanted the pain to stop. Tale as old as time.

I’m sure you’ve heard the legend from there. I’m a legendary kind of guy. I like to think I make a statement. Woke up in front of Hancock’s duds, and suddenly realized there was a way out – there was a way to be that different person. All it would take was a little bloodshed, and a whole lot of charisma.

I might’ve still been high as hell, because I don’t know where I got the confidence, but I started organizing the revolution right away. The weapons, the people – it was all on the down-low, but it was getting done. I felt like a different person, especially with the clothes, especially not being able to recognize a shred of myself in the mirror. I think it helped. But the Ghoul-chemist was right, all that change had to come from within; it was just given a good drug-induced push.

Even when I wanted to back out, I realized I was in too deep already. I had the weapons, I had the people looking to me for guidance. I thought of Wren’s words: ‘Making sure people know they have somewhere they can go. That they have a friend. If they need it.’ Those people were relying on me, like people were relying on Wren. And I thought maybe, just maybe, by leading these people, by following through with them, I would be able right my wrongs with her on some cosmic level.

And as I wrapped that rope around his neck, as I threw Vic off the balcony – as I listened to his neck snap, and the cheering of the people gathered there, I hoped maybe she could feel those amends made from wherever she was.

One of the first private matters I attended to as newly appointed mayor was trying to find Wren. I knew about Nick Valentine’s reputation from Diamond City, and I recruited his help. I told him it was a passive thing, not to dedicate loads of time and effort into it, though he’d still be compensated handsomely. I figured I was one of the last people she wanted to see – if she was still alive. I wanted to give her as much space as possible, but I was still hoping he’d come across her at some point.

Four years went by, and every update from Nick was the same: not a thing on the radar. Eventually, I asked him to consider expanding his search to possible grave sites. I didn’t want to be a pessimist, but like I said before – I’m a realist. And the reality was, Wren’s chances weren’t looking good. She had a talent for keeping her head down, but she also had a knack for making friends. If she was out there, if she was doing alright, she was still helping people. It’s who she was. The fact that Nick couldn’t come across a single person who owed her a favor was a singular sign pointing to the worst possible outcome.

Then, one day, Nick came to my office with news. He looked rattled – and that isn’t a pun.

He said there was a girl who needed to see me. I didn’t think much of it at first. I’m the mayor, plenty of people say they need to see me on a daily basis.

But he said this was different.

“She came to my office, looking to hire me,” he said. “She’s a kid, John. I don’t know a whole lot about human development, but she’s about yea high,” he motioned to just below his chest. “Didn’t have the caps to hire me if she wanted to, but I asked her what the job was, and if I agreed, it’d be on the house.”

I shrugged, legs up on my desk, most of my attention paid to the pen in my hand. “So you got a heart a’ gold, what’s this got to do with me?”

“She said she was looking for a McDonough. That’s why she was in Diamond City. She thought she was looking for the Mayor McDonough. Turns out she got the wrong mayor. She was looking for John McDonough.”

I was surprised to say the least, but still confused. “Did she say what she wanted?”

His face may be plastic, but you hang around him long enough you can tell when he’s nervous. “She said she had a message for you. It’s all she said for a while – she’s a real tight lipped kid. Was determined to only talk to you. But I told her without knowing what the message was about, and from whom, I wasn’t going to hand her over to my friend that easy.”

“Aw, that’s cute – You call me your friend to your clients.”

“She said the message is from Wren Huichol. She said she wants to see you.”

“What?” I sat up straight and stood, every other thought left my head. “Way to bury the lead, Nick.”

“I don’t think that could be considered the lead. Comparatively, at least. And there’s a reason I’m burying it.”

“Spit it out, rust bucket – what’s the matter with you?”

“John, the girl is her daughter.”

My whole body went numb, my ears were deaf and ringing at the same time. I shook my head. “That’s not right. Wren didn’t have kids.” The height that Nick pointed to would’ve made her at least ten years old. “She didn’t have kids.”

“She told me to give you this, as proof.” He pulled something from his coat and handed it to me.

It was a flower. It was dried and pressed, all pretty – well taken care of. It was the kind Wren grew in her greenhouse. It felt like the heaviest thing in the world sitting in my hand. I didn’t know what to believe about the kid, but I knew that if Wren went out of her way to find me, to give me proof – then whatever was going on with her was serious. “Where’s the kid?”

“She’s outside.”

Nick brought the girl into my office, then waited for me outside the Old State House.

The girl looked around ten years old. She had hair like her mother’s, and that same immovable and unreadable expression. Except the kid looked more stern than her mother. Whoever she was, and whatever she’d seen, it couldn’t have been easy, I thought. She looked like she’d been through hell, and she was still so young.

She didn’t waste any time, got right to the point: “Are you John McDonough?”

But there was something about her eyes, something about the way they looked. I knew them anywhere. I’d tried so hard to forget ‘em. They were mine. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Farrah,” she said. “My mother sent me to find you.”

“She sent you…” It didn’t make sense. “Why? Why send a kid? Why not come herself?”

“She can’t. She’s sick. She sent me to find John McDonough, she said that I would be safe with him. With you. She says she trusted you. That she trusted you to do the right thing.”

The words hit like a rock, and I leaned my back on the edge of the desk to steady myself. “Did she…say anything else?” I knew this girl was my kid, I knew it in my bones. But none of it made sense. Wren and I met only five years ago; any child of mine should have been no older than that.

“She told me that John McDonough is my father. Is that you?”

I managed a nervous laugh, everything in me wanting to bolt. But I stayed put, even if my head was turned away from her. “I – I don’t know, kid, I think you got the wrong guy.”

“I don’t think so.” She kept looking at me, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. I wouldn’t be too calm if I found out my old man was a Ghoul. But she didn’t exactly seem fazed, either. If anything, she just looked tired. Exhausted. Poor kid seemed numb.

I took a deep breath, and got my head together before I crouched down to her level. Those eyes were mine, alright. I recognized the apathy. “How old are you?”

“Five.”

“You’re tall for your age. Well spoken. Why aren’t you like other five year olds? You go through a lot of growth spurts?”

“Mama says it’s because we’re different. That we’re special. But without the water she says she doesn’t know if I’ll be special anymore. She’s sick because she doesn’t have the water.”

“Are you sick, too?”

She shook her head.

“Alright,” my hands went down my face. I was barely keeping it together, but I didn’t want to flip out in front of the kid. “Alright, Farrah. Let’s get you cleaned up, let’s get you something to eat.”

That was the first time she looked her age. Her eyes got all big and watery, and she shook her head again. “I don’t want to leave Mama there by herself.”

I felt the same way she looked: devastated. “Me neither, kid. We’re not gonna leave her there. But I’m guessing you haven’t gotten a lot of food, or a lot of sleep, am I right? She’d want you to get all fuelled up before we go back for her. C’mon,” I stood up and gave her my hand. “You ain’t gonna be alone anymore.”

We headed out the next day – me, Farrah, and Nick. He didn’t have to come, but after I told him the rest of the story, he said he wanted to be moral support. The guy’s too soft for his own gears. It took us a few days to get to Wren’s place: a hideout somewhere between Goodneighbor and Diamond City, the kind of place that isn’t on a map. After Vic’s attack on The Bird’s Nest that’s where she must’ve gone, where she must’ve had Farrah, too. I was kicking myself for not trying harder to find her at the time. But at the very least, Vic was gone now.

Then again, so was her well.

Farrah led us inside the house, it was dug into the ground, like her greenhouse. It made the whole thing much cooler, which was a welcome relief from the Sun. I was half expecting to be met with the untimely smell of a body, or some other horror – and I was trying to get Farrah to let me scout the place first, but she’s always been as stubborn as her mother.

It was only right then, right at that moment, when I stepped inside, when Farrah called out for her mother, that I panicked. I didn’t know what to say to her, I didn’t know how to face her – I looked different than the last time we saw each other. I thought maybe she’d take one look at me and say ‘Nope! Sorry. I’ll get Farrah to someone else who isn’t such a volatile freak.’

But I should’ve known Wren better than that.

I walked into her room just as Farrah told her she’d found me. They were hugging so tight, I thought they’d squeeze the life out of each other.

“I missed you so much,” I heard Wren tell her, “but I didn’t mean for you to come back – you were supposed to stay there when you found him.”

“I’m a bad influence,” I said. Stupid way to introduce myself, especially after all those years. But it definitely wasn’t wrong.

She looked at me, and it was like all those years apart had just been minutes. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, but she looked sick. She looked like I had been right to be worried. She was thinner. Her cheeks were hollow, and she had dark circles around her eyes. She looked weak, which was never a word I’d used to describe Wren.

“John…” The way she said my name, it was the same. Like she knew me better than I knew myself.

I took that as my cue to approach her, and she told Farrah to wait in the living room; Nick was there preoccupying himself, he volunteered himself to keep an eye on her while we talked.

Wren tried to stand, but I told her not to. I sat on the edge of her bed, and kept to myself. I couldn’t look her in the eye. After everything, after all that time of thinking what I might say to her if I ever saw her again, dreaming of her, of holding her again. All I could do was sit there, waiting. Like a dog at her feet.

“You got a new look,” she said.

Took me a minute to realize she was teasing me. But eventually we both scoffed out a laugh. “You like it? I think it gives me a nice vintage feel.”

She laughed, and she sounded the same. Just tired. Made me worried.

“How are you holding up?” I asked. I reached for her without thinking. I gravitated towards her, my hand against her face.

And she didn’t pull away. She stayed there, in my hand. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, John.”

I tried to brush it away, tried to pretend all those fears weren’t real. “You’re gonna be alright. We’re gonna get you back to the city. You’ll be alright there.”

She just shook her head. “I’m not gonna make it.” She looked up at me, and her eyes were wet, but her body was too tired to cry.

She told me without the water from her well, she was on a one-way track to the ultimate final destination. There was nothing that could stop it, nothing except for that well water. She’d had an emergency supply at her hide-out, about three years’ worth; she managed to stretch it as far as she possibly could between both her and Farrah. But she ran out last year, giving the last of it to the kid. She didn’t know why Farrah seemed fine, by all accounts her fate should’ve been the same. But she figured it was because of whatever wasteland genes I might’ve passed on. Gave her resistance to the radiation, or just made her more…normal. Wren was different, I didn’t fully understand how.

“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” she begged me, squeezing my hand. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to her.”

“That was never a question.”

We sat there in silence for a while. Between life and death, there wasn’t much that felt significant enough to talk about. But I didn’t let her go. I kept holding her hand as long as she let me.

“I tried…I tried to find you,” I said.

“I looked for you, too.”

“If only I’d tried harder, sooner –”

She shook her head against the pillow behind her. “There was nothing you could’ve done, John. Vic came armed to the teeth. It was all I could do to get everyone out. To get myself out, with Farrah. She was just an infant then.”

Imagining Wren alone, with an infant – my infant – having to escape a warzone, it made me want to kill Vic all over again. This time, drawn and quartered through the city. “You don’t ever have to worry about Vic again. He’s gone.”

“I heard,” she smiled, weaker than before. “Took me a long time to figure out it was you.”

“Wasn’t exactly my usual M.O. of hiding my tail between my legs, I know. I just got so sick of it, Wren. So sick of it.”

“You’re a hero.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m barely a mayor. I like the hands-off technique of letting people do what they want.”

“After everything this town went through with Vic, I think that’s just what the people need.”

“You’ve always had faith in me.” The thought occurred to me of governing Goodneighbor without her. I’d been doing it for three years, there wasn’t any reason to think it’d be difficult otherwise. But it suddenly felt like too much. “You’ve gotta come back with me, Wren,” I said again. “I got a doctor there, I’ve got people there. I’ve got people now, Wren. They’ll fix you up. Hell, they can check Farrah – make sure she’s right.” She just shook her head, trying to let me down easy. “C’mon – don’t give up on me now.”

“I’m not giving up, John. I just know when I’ve lost.”

I felt powerless. As powerless as I did when thought I lost her before. “I just got you back.”

She touched my face. I looked different than when she touched me all those years ago. But it still felt just as good. Like home. “You’ll have me again. Someday.” She shook her head again, and tried to look better than she felt: “But I don’t want to think about ‘someday’ right now. I only want to think about right now. About you. About Farrah. Let me, John. Let me.”

I couldn’t tell her no. I asked her to tell me about the kid, instead. Tell me everything I needed to know – everything about her, about the memories that made them both laugh. About what I could do best for her as a father. She didn’t ask me to be anyone other than who I was. She never did. All she asked me was to think of Farrah first, before I did anything stupid. She was a smart kid, she said, she wouldn’t tolerate any of my bullshit. With her as her mother, I told her, I didn’t expect anything less.

She got tired, and I left the room to let her rest. Farrah was still in the living room with Nick, playing chess with him at the table. She was hustling people even then. I’ve always been proud of her. When I walked out of her mother’s room, she got up and took my place by her side. She never left her alone. I sat with Nick, feeling more vulnerable that I was willing to admit.

I told him mostly everything. I told him that Wren wasn’t coming back with us. I told him I didn’t know what I’d do without her. I told him if he wanted to leave, I wouldn’t blame him.

He wasn’t going anywhere, he said. He was going to see this through with me.

“Because I’m your client?” I scoffed.

“Because you’re my friend.”

I realized right then that people liked me. I went from being a nothing and a nobody – a radroach in the gutter — to someone people wanted to like. I was consciously aware of it, of course, but I don’t think it really hit me until then. I had friends, just like I told Wren. People who actually cared. It was weird.

Nick was going to offer me the couch to sleep on, but Wren said she wanted both me and Farrah next to her while she slept. I think a part of her was worried she’d go sometime during the night. No one wants to be alone when it happens. I didn’t blame her. I was just surprised she wanted me so close to her. I think a part of me came up with this whole story in my head about how she felt about what happened between us, that I forgot it might not have been completely accurate. I’d used it to self-flagellate for so long, I was learning on the fly how to accept that she still wanted me.

We stayed there for a little over a week. Farrah, her mother, and I got to talk. For once in my life, I felt something like normalcy. None of us talked about what was coming, we just enjoyed the ‘right now’, like Wren wanted. She and I enjoyed it together a whole hell of a lot more when we were alone, though. A couple times, in fact. Who was I to deny a dying woman’s request?

A part of me thought that she was going to stand up one day and agree to come with me to Goodneighbor. That suddenly she wouldn’t be so sick anymore. That it was just a bad case of exhaustion, and that I was just what the doctor ordered. That me being there would somehow cure all her ails. She looked like she was getting better, anyway. She even made it to the living room, ate dinner with us at the table.

Then the next morning, she could barely sit up, barely talk.

She asked me for some MedX. “I know you have some,” she said; I could barely hear her. “I saw it in your coat.”

“I have trouble sleeping.”

“John…please.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did she. There wasn’t anything left to say. She was ready. I had to be.

I made sure Farrah wasn’t around when I gave her the first hit. She started to look like she got some relief. I thought maybe that’s all she needed. Something to even her out. I thought maybe she’d sleep it off for a bit, and then be ready to get up and at ‘em in a few hours. Denial is always a double-edged sword. Gives you some relief for a while, but you always wind up paying for it later.

After a few minutes, she looked at me, and I knew it wasn’t enough. I never was.

“Just a little more…please.”

We both knew what would happen. I didn’t fight her on it.

I grabbed a second syringe, and ripped the cap off with my teeth, trying to keep my thoughts busy on finding a good vein. I tried not to think about what I was actually doing. I was doing what she asked. That’s all I ever wanted to do.

She trusted me. More than I deserved. I’ve always tried to live up to it.

Wren started to get more relief after the second hit. Her face relaxed, and her breathing started to slow, it wasn’t anxious anymore.

I put a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, baby.”

She whispered to me she wanted Farrah with her, with me. I called in the kid, and she crawled into her mother’s arms. They both fell asleep. I was on the other side of her, watching them. I guess all things considered, I’ve gotten pretty lucky. I didn’t get a lot of time with Wren, but then again, some people never find someone to love in the first place. If there is some big, grand scheme of things, I’m glad it put us together. At least for a little while.

Nick dug the grave while I wasn’t looking. I actually don’t know what I would’ve done without him there. I’m used to being alone. As much as I’ve skipped out on everyone in my life, I’m just as used to people skipping out on me. But he was there. The whole time. I owe that guy a lot.

We stayed as long as Farrah needed to after we buried Wren.

The trip back to Goodneighbor was a long one. I had never been more exhausted in my life when we finally got back to the State House. I didn’t have a place set up for Farrah yet, so I let her take my bed. I couldn’t sleep anyway. I spent the night looking out at the sky.

The following week, I tried to get back into the swing of things. Putting the past behind me – running. It wasn’t doing me much good, but I liked to pretend it did. I was in my office, trying to split my attention between balancing my ledger and consoling Farrah. I started to get frustrated, and the last thing I wanted to do was lash out at the kid. So I came up with a compromise: I taught her how to cook the books.

I pulled her onto my lap, and went over money math with her. Wren was right, she was a sharp kid – sharper than most at that age. But like all kids, she started to get bored. She was more interested in the way I looked. I started to think maybe she hadn’t seen many Ghouls while hiding out with her mom.

She touched my face, trying to make sense of it. “Why do you look different?” Kids have such a way with words.

“I’m a Ghoul,” I said.

“How come I don’t look like you, too?”

“You do,” I said. “I didn’t always look like this, y’know. No one’s born a Ghoul. You gotta turn into one.”

“How?”

“Lots of radiation. That’s not gonna happen to you anytime soon, kid. Don’t worry.”

She was still touching my face. She had this stern, careful way of looking at things, like she was thinking. Always thinking. I guess she was trying to imagine what I used to look like.

“Here,” I said, and put her down. “I’m pretty sure I got a picture around here somewhere.” I rifled through my desk for a few minutes. There weren’t many personal effects, besides the occasional smoke box and bullet cartridge, but in the false bottom of the very last drawer, I’d put the old photograph of Wren and me for safe keeping. “Here,” I handed it to her, and pointed. “That’s your mom – and that’s me.”

She looked at the photo, then at me – real scpetical. Like I was pulling one over on her. All I could do was laugh.

“That’s me, kid. A long time ago.” I pointed again. “See, you and I got the same color eyes. My eyes used to be blue.”

She stared at it for a long time, and sat down on the floor.

“You can keep it.”

She looked up at me – she suddenly looked her age again: small, fragile.

I put a hand on her head, and let her lean on my leg. I kept working. Still running.

Despite everything – despite myself, really – I think Farrah, or Fahrenheit as she calls herself, turned out alright. No one could know who she was, how we were related, how she was different. It’d make her an easy target, and it would give me an exploitable weakness. I may not be the best politician, but I do know one thing about politics: no one is safe, and no one is off-limits. As far as anyone knew, she was just some orphan kid who was the mayor’s runner. It kept her out of trouble for the most part. But kids are curious critters, they get into things and places they shouldn’t.

A few years after her mother’s death, Farrah got reckless. She got in with a dangerous crowd. She was the youngest among them, and they were always trying to get her to prove herself. I’m not saying I don’t understand the impulse – I, of all people, have no room to talk – but I made her mother a promise: that I’d look out for her.

Imagine my panic when I couldn’t find her all day, and into the night. I was sweating my head off, trying to figure out where she could’ve gone. I didn’t think she and I got along that terribly, that she’d wanna run away. But all I could imagine was the worst. I had half the mind to call up Nick and ask him to track her down, when I saw her so-called ‘friends’ wandering around the streets without her.

I don’t like to wield my diplomatic power, but when it comes to making sure my people are safe, my kid is safe, it’s personal. Whether they know she’s my blood, or not. I was open to the idea that maybe they weren’t involved at all, that maybe Farrah went off on her own. That is, until I talked with the head of this little crew, myself. I saw Vic in his eyes, and my hands itched to strangle the life out of him. I knew he was responsible for whatever happened to her, wherever she was.

I dragged him into the Old State House, and laid down the law personally. Busted a kneecap, broke a few fingers, until he gave up their sick plan. These goons lured her out to a guarded junkyard and left her there. I threw him out of the State House and out of the city completely. Him and his whole crew.

I got to the junkyard after sunset, and was held up by the owner, until he saw it was the mayor at the other end of his shotgun. I told him I was looking for a kid who’d come by earlier; she might’ve been with a group, she might’ve been alone. He knew who I was talking about. He pointed to the sign at the gate:

‘Trespassers will be shot.’

I bolted into the yard, barely thinking, looking for her. There was a clearing in the distance, and that’s where I found her: gaping hole straight through the chest.

It was the worst moment of my life. There were no thoughts in my head, just…blinding white pain. I held her there for I don’t know how long. It was like the world had ended. Nothing else existed. I’d failed. I’d failed Farrah, I’d failed Wren, myself.

Then she gasped in my arms, and I nearly dropped her in shock – now I may be a user, but I’ve never used that much Jet, enough to bring back the dead. But it wasn’t a hallucination. Farrah was alive, the hole in her chest was mending itself somehow. I didn’t question it, all I did was get her home. By all accounts, she was fine. Got the wind knocked out of her, and felt sick for a few days while things healed up, but she was alright. She’s got the scars to prove she survived.

Kid’s got nine lives. Every damn day I’m worried she’s gonna lose ‘em all. She’s had a few close calls since then, but always comes back kickin’. I half wanted her to be my bodyguard so that I can keep an eye on her. But I know it’s the other way around, too. She looks out for me. Not all fathers can say that about their kids.

I don’t know how long Farrah’s gonna live. A century and a half, like her mother, or a few decades short of a hundred, like any other human. All I know is, I got a long life ahead of me. I don’t mind it. If I live half as long as Wren, I hope to do half as much good as she did. That’s all I want, really: to do good, and have a good time doing it. Sounds more simple than it is, but it’s worth the effort.

I’m still waiting for that ‘someday’ that Wren talked about. But I figure I oughtta fill the time before then, give her a good story when the day comes. Nothing beats a good story. I’m sure she’s got loads for me, too. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing ‘em.

For now, my time is filled with taking care of the people who need most: the misfits and underdogs of the Commonwealth. That, and making sure Fahrenheit doesn’t get herself killed too often — or losing my own head in the process. Not until I go feral, anyway. But that’s a story for another time. A long while from now. Hopefully.

I have a purpose again. It’s what everyone wants: to matter, to be seen, and to be important to people who give a shit. If I had to do it all over again, I would – I’d fix a few mistakes, I’d do a few things I should’ve done, avoid a few things I shouldn’t have done, and made more room for better things. But if I had to do it all again, if I could meet Wren all over again, if we could’ve had the time we did and more – hell yeah, I would. All of it. In a heartbeat.

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zippidi-dooda · 8 months ago

Text

Checkmate

This isn't what you had expected to happen.

"Mmm, who would've thunk I'd be able to wake up besides you. Every morning." Rook smiled.

Pulling himself flush against you, he buried his face against your bare shoulder. You let out a soft sigh as he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive skin.

"Goodmorning, love." You murmured.

"Hehehe, and to hear your sweet voice. Magnifique doesn't even begin to describe it."

He took a hold of your chin with a large, warm hand. A hand that you had learned could do so much. That you had gotten so used to, in fact, that you couldn't even remember the last time it made you flinch.

You pressed a hand over his as you felt his soft lips press against yours. "Goodmorning to you too, my love."

His smile reached his sparkling, green eyes as he gazed at you. He really couldn't have been more happy it seemed.

"Daddy!"

"You said we'd hunt today!"

"Wake up!"

Rook chuckled as your daughters' voices rang from downstairs.

"Oui! I'll be down in a minute, mon oisillons!"

"Hurry!"

"They have your persistence, mon trickster." Rook said returning his attention to you.

"And your tendency to wake up early. Go, best not keep them waiting."

He hummed and leaned his head against your chest, reveling at the sound of your heartbeat that he'd, long ago, memorized the pattern to.

"Patience is vital for all hunters. Teaching them that now will do them some good." He ran his hand slowly down your side to rub against your swollen belly. "How's the little one doing?"

"Fine." You said, absentmindedly running your fingers through his blond locks. "Claude was more fussy than this one. Than all of them really."

"How interesting. Perhaps this one will be more calm once they're born. I wonder which of us the next ones will take after."

You stayed silent, eyes fixed upon the ceiling.

"Try to relax today, my love. We'll be back home before you know it."

"I know."

"... is everything alright, Y/N?"

You closed your eyes and gave a trained smile towards him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Trying to maintain the peace, for you and your children's sake.

Rook mirrored your expression and pulled you in for a kiss.

It didn't take long for you to reciprocate, slinking your arms around his neck and tilting your head to kiss him deeper.

Soon after, needing to pull away, he rested his forehead against yours and rubbed his thumb against your cheek.

Then, in a soft voice, barely above a whisper, you heard his familiar praise, "Je t'adore, ma chérie."

Such an endearing phrase. Spoken in a language wholly romantic. It was heart fluttering.

That's what you always tried to convince yourself.

All you could ever do in response was smile back just as fondly.

"Dad!"

The door slammed against the wooden wall of the cabin as your daughters, Paige, Elise, and Belle, barged in.

Paige stomped over to your bed, blond hair bouncing with each step, and clambered on top of Rook. The other two peeked their heads into the room, clinging to either side of the doorframe.

The man laughed, flipping onto his back to face Paige. His head rested against your chest as his large hands grasped Paige's waist and he lifted her up into the air, effectively turning her frown upside down.

"Goodmorning, chou! I was just about to get up."

"Hehe." Paige tried to stifle her giggles so she could be mad at Rook once more, her green eyes narrowing. "Ahem, I mean, no you weren't."

"Of course I was! Wasn't I, Y/N?"

You nodded and stretched your hand out to the girls at the door, beckoning them to get closer.

They gave each other a glance with their green eyes before bounding to your side. They kissed the back of your hand 'Goodmorning,' a gesture they had seen Rook do to you thousands of times and had decided to mimic.

"Then why aren't you even dressed yet?"

"Oops! I'm afraid you caught me. Well, now why don't you and your sisters go wait for me downstairs again so I can really get ready for our hunt?"

With a newfound eagerness, Paige nodded then scrambled off the bed, running to the door. She staggered a bit before turning back to kiss you and her father goodmorning.

Rook chuckled as she left and lifted up the remaining two of the triplets onto the bed.

You hugged the blanket close to your bare body as it fell onto Rook's lap.

He ruffled the hair of Elise and Belle simultaneously as he greeted them for the day too.

"Are you two sure you want to come along?" He asked.

Elise shook her head and threw her arms tightly around Rook's waist. "No, but I want to stay with you Daddy."

"I want to stay home." Belle chimed, placing both her hands over her father's atop her head. "Claude said he'd teach me how to chop the firewood."

"How to chop it? Merveilleux! Your brother is an expert with a blade, I'm glad to see he's willing to show you the ropes. Perhaps one day you will be able to teach him a new trick, yes?"

Belle smiled and nodded her head eagerly.

"Well then, you can go play downstairs until he arises from his deep slumber. And like a wilde bobcat on the cusp of its attack, be silent so you don't wake your baby brother."

The girl nodded and headed towards the door, pausing at the doorframe. "Dad? Can we teach the baby to cut wood too?"

You cast a glance towards Rook from the corner of your eye and even though it was brief, he caught it.

"I'm afraid he's a little to young for that."

"Aw, but we can help him hold it."

"Non non, we mustn't be so eager to see him grow up, mon lapin. Just be patient."

Belle sighed and muttered a dejected, "Okay, dad," before slumping out downstairs.

Rook turned his attention back to Elise. "As for you, mon poussin, you're more than welcome to tag along with me and your sister even if you don't wish to partake in the chase."

"Really?"

"Oui!"

Elise squealed and hugged him tighter. "Thank you, Dad! You're the best!"

"Merci! Run along now, I need to get ready."

"Yes, Dad. See you later, Mom." She made sure to give you a hug before disappearing downstairs like everyone else.

Rook stood up and began to reach for his clothes in the drawers. You kept your eyes trained on him as he moved.

He moved in such a way you could never conprehend what he was going to do next. That had long since ceased to frighten you.

Of course, he didn't miss you stare. Even though he wasn't looking at you.

"What's troubling you, my love?" He inquired a second time.

"Nothing." You smiled.

You threw your legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward to get up.

Only to immediately get gently pushed back onto the bed by Rook's hands. You hadn't heard him move at all, yet he knew exactly what you were planning on doing the moment heard first heard the blanket rustle.

"Lay down, love. Everything you need will be taken care of, our Claude is a capable young man after all. All thanks to you."

"Our son shouldn't need to be doing my chores on top of his own. Besides, I need to put clothes on.

Rook raised your knuckles to his lips and kissed them softly. "Having you pampered and taken care of has always been ideal. Even more so now for your sake and our baby's. Don't you agree."

You simply kept your eyes locked with his.

"Let me dress you from here," He smiled grew squinty as he drawled on. "It's such a delight to cover you again after stripping you bare like a skinned deer being prepped for curing."

Gaze shifting downwards, you nodded along.

"Give me one moment then." He pressed a feather light kiss to the top of your head before returning to the drawer and dressing himself.

Your eyes scanned over his pale skin, frowning as you saw the red and scared scratches littering his back.

There were wounds from close calls from protecting your children while out hunting.

And wounds from you, from the times he'd held his lofty frame above yours, sweating and panting as he made himself as close to you as he could so you were almost one, smiling as he professed his love for you and demonstrated it passionately.

As you held your head back, eyes closed as you felt tears fall, clawing at him in desperation. It was the only time you could try and hurt him, to hope he'd understand the underlying message and feel a grain of the pain he'd been causing you from the moment he'd first started following you.

But, of course, he never took it that way.

Simply, smiling wider as you tore at his skin, praising you for loving him so.

For why would you try to hurt the one person you had in life?

Now clothed, Rook knelt in front of you, analytic eyes, that had never ceased their days of stalking you from afar, admiring your body.

He took his time dressing you, hands unwilling to leave your skin for even a moment. With each layer he put on you, he kissed you tenderly as his eyes locked with yours.

"There isn't a thing I could say to tell you how lovely you look, my darling." Rook sat between your thighs, a hand pressed against your belly.

His smile grew softer as he felt the familiar kick from the baby inside you.

"You truly are amazing, ma chérie."

You smiled and dragged a finger under his chin, tilting his head up to you.

"Thank you for your sweet words, love. What would I do without you?"

Be able to smile truthfully, be free as a bird as you were before.

"You're too kind," Rook stood and cupped your cheeks to give you another kiss. "We'll be back safe by supper time, I promise."

"I know."

"I'm going to miss you so dearly, mon trickster." He said hugging you tightly. "I wish I could take you along, but alas, this is the safest option. Do take a rest, Claude knows how to handle everything in this house so just ask him for help. And if something comes along to try and hurt any of you, I made sure to teach him how to handle all things thoroughly."

"I know."

Rook knelt down on one knee, gaze fixed on yours as he took hold if your hand. "I'll be back before you know it, my lady."

He kissed the back of your palm before rubbing his cheek against your hand.

"Stay safe, my love."

"Of course!" He then pressed a kiss to your belly. "Your father will be back soon, little loir."

You followed him downstairs to see him and your daughters off for the day.

They smiled, bouncing around happily as they slung their handcrafted bows and quivers over their small backs, satchel of food and water hanging by their sides.

With their gear and blond hair, smiles of pure excitement, and green eyes twinkling with delight, they looked just like their father.

He noticed it and couldn't have possibly been more happy. He simply had to have a picture of this moment.

So, you picked up his old camera and took it for them. Their smiles grew as they clung to his side, cheeks pressed against his.

That camera had captured the most obscene and private moments many a time. It felt strange not being the focus of it. Making use of it to picture the man who made an obsession of it.

Rook thanked you with a kiss, tucking the picture away in his breast pocket and with that, they were finally off.

You stood there, waving at them by the front door until they dissapeared from sight past the dense forest surrounding your lone cabin. And your smile began to falter, hand held aloft as your eyes scanned the green surrounding you.

It wouldn't take much to run in the other direction.

"Mom?"

"... yes, sweetie?" You answered, slowing turning back to the log cabin.

"I'm hungry. Can I wake Claude up now?"

You closed the door behind you as you focused on Belle.

"Sweetie, I'm right here. I can cook for you."

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "I know, but Dad said I should let you rest and to ask Claude for anything."

You frowned and glanced back at the door. "...Well, Claude needs his rest too. Just come to me until he wakes up, okay."

She nodded and sat down on the carpet in the living room, rummaging through her bag of wooden toys that Rook and Claude had crafted.

You took to the kitchen and searched for something to make.

"And what are you craving?" You murmured, hand rubbing your belly.

There was no response of course, but after a bit of looking and sniffing you found something the baby wanted.

It made your nose scrunch, and you recoiled from reaching out to grab it.

Had you not be pregnant, the way your mouth almost drooled at the thought of consuming the raw flesh of a lost cow freshly caught would've made you sick to your stomach.

Having Rook as your chef for so long had strange effects it seemed as steak tartare had not once appealed to you till now.

Instead, you reached for the garlic paste you normal had cravings for.

It appeased the baby. But only just.

You grabbed a few vegetables and seasonings before turning to the cutting board.

Slowly, meticulously, you began to slice perfectly round pieces of carrots and potatoes and such.

You hummed softly, eyes trained on your daughter not so far away.

She giggled as she played with her toys, arranging them in a way you couldn't yet determine what she planned to do next. She assembled a team of sorts and proudly declared for them to go this way and that, having each stand guard in various corners of the room, facing the center where a lone boar figure stood beside a smaller one.

After a while, she got quiet, simply holding onto her dolls, watching the figures in the center along with the dolls.

You watched her curiously.

Had she zoned out?

"Ah! Mother, put that down, you're going to hurt yourself."

Your son's voice, startled you. You hadn't noticed when he came downstairs.

Claude was your oldest, about to be sixteen next month. Very mature for his age, but he took on a lot of Rook's mannerisms.

Too many.

They all did.

He looked the most like you out of all his siblings, 'cept for his eyes. The piercing green seemed to be a domineering trait in this household.

It felt like you could never escape his gaze.

He held your youngest in his arms, but quickly handed him to you, taking the knife in exchange.

"Here, let me handle that."

"I can do it just fine." You argued.

"I know, I know. But I'd like to do it. Breakfast would have been done by now, but I woke up late. Don't worry mother, I'll take it from here."

The baby gurgled, tugging on your shirt.

You wiped the drool bubbling from his mouth.

"Is there anything else you'd like, mother? A tea or coffee perhaps?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? It'd be no trouble. Oh, and I've already fed that little rascal for you. It shouldn't be long 'fore he's ready for a nap."

You shook your head and returned to looking at Belle, bouncing the baby gently.

She still hadn't moved.

"Claude? What would you like for your birthday?"

"Oh, you really don't have to get me anything, mother. I am becoming a young man, I can do without presents."

You gave him a look. "Oh, c'mon. Everyone wants presents. I just wish I could get you a real one."

"What are you talking about?"

"What sort of cake do you want?"

Claude looked at you for a moment, eyes squinting at you.

He put the vegetables on the stove then continued to make the main part of the dish.

"Any one is fine, we both know my sisters will end up eating the most."

You hummed and returned your attention to Belle, stroking your baby's hair to lull him asleep.

You frowned as you watched her stillness come to an end and she had her dolls jump in to attack the boars.

Effects of her hunting trips no doubt.

Learning by example was dangerous.

Your son cooed and the stove sizzled for a while before Claude finished cooking and began to shuffle.

"Um ... mother of mine? Can I... can I tell you something? I'd tell Father, but you know how he can be. He'd probably start asking for so many details and try to come with me and that's a bit embarrassing, y'know."

You moved to set the baby down in his crib next to the couch then sat down at the counter in front of Claude.

"What's wrong?"

His cheeks had the blooms of roses in them and he averted his gaze to the food.

"Nothing! Sorry. Nothing's wrong, it's just I ... well, you know how father tells us the story of how you met?"

You felt uneasy.

Most sayings aren't wholly true. But some are hard to refute.

Pursing your lips, you asked him to continue.

"Well, it's not just your story. It's in the story books he reads us too. About meeting someone who is perfect for you. Love at first sight."

"... what do you mean?"

Claude finally turned, looking up at you from under his lashes, eyes wide with apprehension but expression wholly serious.

"I .. I think I'm in love, mom."

Your heart sped up at his words.

Had this been a normal situation, you would have jumped with excitement, urging him to tell you all about his crush.

But this wasn't a normal situation.

"With who?"

You lived in the woods.

"Oh, this girl I met out hunting,"

Too far from any civilization.

"So, she's a hunter?"

No one went to town for anything.

"No."

There was no need to.

"... then how did you meet her?"

Not with someone as capable as Rook around.

"O-oh, well, ehe, I haven't formally met her yet."

At this point, Claude looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

"Then ... why do you say you're in love?"

He brightened up at once, taking your hands in his and looked at you with such a lovestruck expression as you had never seen on him before.

But on him? One too many times.

"I just know it! She's got these eyes that just ... ahh ... and this this hair, wow... and her smile ... ah, I can barely contain myself! Mom, I understand how you and Dad must feel everyday. Gosh, all I can think about is how much I want to know more about her and wake up by her side everyday and be the reason to make her smile! And I left her a present last time, and guess what? She took it! She doesn't know it's from me though, I thought it'd be more romantic to let her think of me as a secret admirer. That way, the time we meet in person will be so much more exciting. Oh! I keep a box of all the little trinkets she forgets about and I took so many pictures of her, just so I can see her when we're apart. I'll go get it, wait here!"

As Claude bounded up the stairs, eager to finally let out his secret of who knows how long, you began to panic.

This situation was all too familiar. Eerily so.

"Here, look! This is her. Isn't she gorgeous. This is her doing her night care routine in her bathroom. This is her clipping her toenails, she seems to have trouble with this, weird angles and all. That's why I'll do it for her when we're married. This is her reading on her porch. This is her playing with her cat, she smiles so wide when he purrs, it's adorable. I'll get her to smile that much for me one day. And this is her when ...."

Your breathing grew shakier and your face paled as you looked at his album.

The pictures were at odd angles, the girl in question not once facing the camera, seemingly oblivious of it's existence. In the box were the random trinkets discussed about: gum wrappers, post-its, chewed pencils, used band-aids, unpaired socks, ponytails of cut hair, and other long forgotten belongings

All things you remembered seeing in Rook's room long ago that belonged to various people.

Overwhelmed, you couldn't help hiding your face in your hands and sobbing softly, cursing your luck that your poor son had gotten to such a point.

The apple rarely falls far from the tree.

"Mom? Mother, are you okay?" Claude said, quickly forgetting his things and holding you cautiously.

You hiccuped and forced yourself to smile behind your tears. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm...."

In attempts to reasussure him, you lied through your teeth and gripped his hand as hard as you could.

"... I'm ... happy for you ...."

Claude beamed and wiped your tears with his sleeve.

"Aw, thanks, mother. I knew you'd understand! Don't cry, you'll be able to meet her one day. And then, when we're married I'll always be sure to visit you all, okay."

You nodded, feeling nothing but regret for the poor girl he'd unfortunately set his heart on and guilt for the fact that you had done nothing to prevent the habits he'd been forming as he grew with his father as his shining role model.

"Claude? Why's mom crying?" Belle asked, now distracted from her toys.

"Oh, it's happy tears, Belle. Here, why don't you go out and look for some good firewood out in the shed. I'll be out in a minute."

"Oh! Yay!" Belle jumped and ran out the door.

Claude kissed your head gently and rubbed your back before promising to come in soon and going after his sister.

You sat the counter for a moment, catching your breath and drying your tears.

How on earth were you to teach him that his actions were wrong when you could do nothing to explain why Rook did it?

You looked at your son in his crib with a frown.

Would he turn out like him too?

Your heart ached at the thought.

Your eyes then trailed towards the window, watching the two who had just left.

They were so happy, so ignorant to the truth between you and the man you continued to call "your love."

You wished you had told them sooner. But they were too young. You didn't want to take away from them the happy life you had once lived.

These little beings looked up to the man who trapped you with him.

And now, they always would.

It was far too late to convince them their father wasn't the saint they believed him to be.

You stood and looked around.

Photos of your growing family plastered the walls, countless crafts littered the fridge door and handmade gifts cluttered the shelves.

All around you, green eyes watched your every movement.

How could you find love or comfort in that shade green any longer?

That green that followed you inside and out ....

You looked out the window on the back door.

Green surrounded you out there too. But a different shade, a different kind altogether.

You trudged forward.

The grass so vast, stretching for miles beneath the suffocating trees which concealed both you and that lovely shade of green from everyone else.

Your hand twisted open the door.

No one was that way. Not your sons or daughters. Not Rook.

You glaned over your shoulder at the baby, sleeping blissfully unaware of everything, content to just be warm in his crib.

...

Elise. Belle. Paige. Claude.

They were already all so independent. They could survive on their own if they really needed to. In fact, you were the most helpless person in this family. Not a one of them liked to worry your pretty little head over anything.

Must be difficult for them, right?

Having to dote on a mother who is only allowed to do things that require little though and strain.

... it'd be better if you left ... right?

You took a step on the grass, such a beautiful color.

They could care for each other without needing to care for you on top of that. They already took care of their baby brother.

You closed the door behind you, then, another step.

Rook could care for them. He's raised them more than you have already. It wouldn't be much of a change.

And another.

They were all too much like him now to change. It'd get worse as they grew. If you left by their maturing age then it'd only be that much easier for them to help Rook catch you.

And another.

Sevens know that they'd do anything for their father.

Faster and faster.

Or worse. Rook would trap you with another baby for each of your children that matured and got ready to live on their own. An endless cycle of waiting.

This may be your only chance to escape.

Yes, now was the time.

Run!

And run you did.

You ran and ran, fast as your feet and aching back would let you. You held onto your belly, a smile getting wider as you got further away.

You had to hold back an excited, relieved laugh. This was it. You'd be that bird free from the cage again. And by your own hand too.

Quickly, you grew tired, the need to vomit becoming more apparent.

But you didn't care.

You kept running.

You had to.

Freedom was finally within reach!

...

Until it wasn't.

You let out a scream, falling back on the pretty grass to avoid bumping into the giant brown bear growling in front of you.

It stood on it's hind legs, towering above you. It's teeth were bared, long, black claws gleaming with a deadly threat, beady eyes shining with agitation.

It growled loudly and looked at you for a second before charging forward to rip you to shreds.

You shifted to protect your belly from being slashed first, eyes screwing shut.

If this was your form of freedom ... well ... maybe ... maybe it wasn't so bad.

Thunk!

The bear let out an agonized yowl before collapsing to the floor heavily.

You made no move, just listening to the bear's dying breath until you could hear it no more.

...

You heard nothing else.

Nothing at all.

But you knew that didn't meant anyhing. It was too late. Your window of opportunity had now been shut forever.

You were afraid to open your eyes.

...

Slowly, you did.

And found yourself staring at a pair of tan boots in front of you.

Your gaze inched upwards, heartbeat slowing from its frantic beating and the sound of static began to fill your ears.

Rook stood above you, bow in hand, green eyes looking down at you expressionless. A look you had never once expected to see on him. Not a trace of a smile crossed his face, his eyes devoid of emotion.

It was as if he already knew what you were going to do before you knew it yourself.

Oh, what you would do to see his ominous smile once more instead of this look of disappointment.

You brought yourself to your feet and trudged over to hug him with shaky arms.

He held you gently, but still his expression did not change.

You thanked him then turned to face the bear, entwining your hand with his. Soon, your expressions matched.

Oh, poor Y/N,

Rook made easy work of the bear. And then, he turned to you, that easy-going smile back on his face.

Poor, sweet Y/N,

He took your hand in his.

Don't you know?

He raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

The rook is the second best piece on the chess board.

He said something.

As long as he's in play,

"Je t'adore, ma chérie!"

Your chances of winning are lowered.

Then, lugging the bear's corpse behind, you walked hand in hand back to your house, making the most of this shared time together.

You'd long ago been put into check, now it was,

His queen was cornered.

Checkmate.

#twisted wonderland #twst #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #yandere rook #ma chérie #also on Quotev

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