#her mother did tell her she lives life at a different pace from everyone else

[roxalicious]

thinking about marcille treating falin like a kid even tho thats a woman in her 20s and like... elven tendencies to treat everyone from short-lived races as children aside, marcille probably just has no idea how she's supposed to treat anyone.

elven age of maturity is 80, and if we keep in mind tallmen's is 16, that means 80 is probably still on the younger side for our modern standards. marcille is 50 so to elves she'd be like 10, but obviously she's an adult so she mustve aged impossibly fast (at a human rate from ages 41 to 50, since it sounds like she grew alongside falin?), and has no way of figuring out how old she is compared to anyone else, even though she grew up surrounded by people from short-lived races (which would probably give a regular elf at least a general idea)

[hunterbunter3000]

OH LORD MAMA TAKE THE WHEEL THISNIS MY LAST ONE.

imagine the boys just got back from a mission and when they enter the base, they found sweetheart cooking their country food for them. The taste is giving ✨SEASONED✨, its giving ✨you want me to marry you✨, its giving ✨that type of food that added 10 years to your life span✨, ITS GIVING ✨YOU DID A VERY GOOD JOB AND IM PROUD OF YOU✨

NOOOO NEVER STOP THESE I SWEAR YOU'RE JUST FINE 😍😍🫂🫂 these give me life you have no idea miss roro💕

(@missroro ROROOO GURL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER😭😭 PLS FORGIVE ME I WAS SHADOWBANNED AND THEN OTHER ASKS KEPT POURING IN🧎‍♀️this is quite long, so hopefully you will take that as a sacrifice for my tardiness 🙏I hope you're doing well! I miss you LOTS 💓)

BUT UGHHH GOD

And the FACT that I already have a scenario that's kinda like this blows my mind 🤯🤯

When Sweetheart wasn't needed for this certain mission, she said "aight bet. I know yall are gonna be so damn tired and hungry so watch this WORK."

(Idk if you wanted Sweetheart to cook her home food, or cook their country meals, so imma do both 💀)

Her home-cooked food:

When Task Force 141 came back to the base they smelt that SEASONING IMMEDIATELY LIKE--

Gaz: Something just happened.

I know he's the FIRST to book it to the living room, and then he sees the PLETHORA

GRITS, SWEET YAMS, MAC AND CHEESE, CHICKEN, HAM, GREENS AND OX TAILS, CORNBREAD-- ALL THE GOOD SHIT YOU CAN THINK OOOFFF

Gaz squeals (LITERALLY SQUEALS) cause he's been wanting to taste her cooking.

(He's always asked about African-American cooking since he grew up with British cooking. Sweetheart told him the goodness and he's been hooked on it ever since)

Everyone else comes in and sees the table and they're just in shock

Like what the hell- how long did it take you to make all this?? I love you???

It felt so domestic, like coming home to a home cooked meal after getting off work and seeing your wife smile at you saying "welcome home, dear!"

Sweetheart is just beaming at them, saying "I know yall have been through hell, so have a lil' piece of heaven!" (She's so CHEESY) the mother in her comes thru, telling them to take showers and get situated first then come eat.

WHEN I TELL YOU THAT THEY B O O K E D IT TO THE MENS SHOWERS TO GET CLEAN-- GHOST PUSHED ALEX AND SOAP INTO A WALL SO HE CAN GET THERE FIRST (König and Price were already in there LOL they're witches I swear)

They were done so quickly Sweetheart had to check if some of them were actually clean

Sweetheart: Suds?

Soap, flushed: uhm, yeah?

Sweetheart, eyes squinting: Did you wash yo' ass?

Soap:

Soap: Yes...?

Sweetheart: GO GET CLEANED

Soap: BUT FOOD--

Sweetheart: G O

(Alex and Gaz low key laughing at him and Price is disgusted that Soap sometimes doesn't wash his ass)

They all finally sit down and they just enjoy the warm feeling in their chests while looking at the food. Sweetheart turns on some r&b music (is this a black 80s BET movie? MAYBE) and she walks to the edge of the table, eyes are filled with love and pride for her team. "Aight, I'm gonna keep this short and simple cause I know all yall are hungry and tired," she starts. The team sit on every word she says, as they always do. She smiles. "I'm glad you all made it back safely. Successful mission or not, I will always be proud of all of you. I love yall."

She's too good for them, man. Wtf

They all just fell in love with her more AHA

So she sits down and the chatter and clatter begins. They all moaned so much when they ate the food 💀💀

(They all went into a food coma and had the BEST SLEEP EVER)

--

(If she made everyone's food from their culture) (I put my whole ass into this wow)

When SAS and Los Vaqueros trudged through the hallway, they heard a clang and a yelping "Ow! Son of a-"

Price and Ghost look at each other before picking up the pace towards the kitchen. "Sweetheart? Are you -" Price freezes when he sees the kitchen filled with different types of food. " - Okay..."

"Oh fuck-- Hey! Yall are back already! That's wonderful." Sweetheart nervously laughs as she wipes her hands on her messy apron. The others start to come in, not expecting the different dishes on the counters. She squeals, "Nah uh! Don't come in here! Go and get cleaned now, all of you!" They stare at her for a bit until sprinting to the Men's Showers. Shouts and loud bangs from falling tact gear are heard, making Sweetheart chuckle and shake her head. Once the men came back to the kitchen, she was gone and so was the food. "In here!" She yelled. Soap made it first to the dining room and let out a big gasp. On the long, make-shift table sat a multitude of different foods and drinks each man recognized from their home country.

"Oh, mo leannan, this looks barry!" Soap exclaims.

"In English, Mactavish." Ghost mumbles, making Soap kiss his teeth. "This looks wonderful, St.! I'm- how did you--" Sweetheart shushes him, Soap still smiling ear to ear. "Don't ask questions! Just come sit down and get your plate."

They all grab a plate and utensils with rushed steps and big smiles.

- 𓆩♡𓆪 -

Price, Ghost, and Gaz sat at the end, where they all recognize the things to make Bangers and Mash. Shepherd's Pie and Fish and Chips could be found on all their plates with a side of Barm cakes. Their dishes melt in their mouths, dragon breathing at every bite since it was still hot. Ghost had a feeling in his chest that he felt extremely warm and overwhelming. He didn't think she would make something like this for him. "How're yall enjoying it?" She asks behind Price. "Umberweivable!" Gaz spouted out, a disbelief and amazed look on his face. Sweetheart laughs at him, "Hopefully, that meant unbelievable!" Gaz nods quickly with big food-filled cheeks. "Absolutely amazing, Princess." Price says after taking a swig of homemade Ginger Beer. "Haven't had Shepherd's Pie and Ginger Beer in so long. Good run down memory lane." Price smiles with soft and grateful eyes. Sweetheart snorts out a laugh and taps her cheek. Price raises an eyebrow until the embarrassment creeps in. He grabs his napkin and wipes the food that was stuck to his cheek. "I'm glad you like it, Cap! It was so hard finding an easy recipe for that damn beer." Sweetheart grumbles, looking at the kitchen with furrowed eyes and hand on Price's shoulder. He leans into her touch and sighs. "All in all, thank you." He murmurs, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on it. Sweetheart giggles, ignoring the heat coming from her hand. "You're very welcome!" She moves to Ghost, who has been quietly shoveling food in his mouth. "Hey Ghost! Are you--" Sweetheart stopped when he looked up at her. Eyes big with tears running down his flushed, stuffed cheeks. His eyes tick away from her changed face. "What...?" Simon whispers. She gives him a soft smile as one of her hands wipes off his tears. He didn't even notice the tears falling... "You enjoying the food?" She asks softly. Oh, that tone. That tone she uses only for Simon. He shivers, nodding his head slowly and then laying on her hip. She coos, wrapping her hand around his head while giving him head scratches to calm him down. You're alright, Simon. She's saying through her touch. Enjoy yourself.

Soap was practically vibrating in his chair when he saw a pitcher of Scottish Ale next to a big pot of Cullen Skink and an array of Scotch Pies with small Bacon Butties on the side. He did a double take when he saw a dish filled with Stovies and fried cut potatoes. Just how he ate it when he was younger. He lets out a disbelieved laugh as he reaches for it. "St.!" He calls out to her. She comes over with a worried look. "Wassup Suds? Everything okay?" He looks up at her with glassy eyes and a smile, nudging the Stovies. Sweetheart snickers, "I told you I would make it! I remember you tellin' me that your...màthair? Or-- mudder- damn I forgot how to say it-- but ya mom use to make this for you! So I looked up a recipe and may have added some of my extra spice to it." She explains as she whispers and laughs that last part. He can't believe that she remembers that. He told her that when he met her; telling her all the different Scottish cuisines. "I hope it tastes good..." She mumbles to herself. She cares. Soap grabs his spoon and collects some of the dish. She cares so much. Memories going through his mind when he chews it. She cares too much. "It's delicious." Soap whimpers out. Sweetheart smiles as she bends down to hug him. "I'm glad you like it."

Alejandro exclaims loudly when he takes a bite of his abundantly covered Elote. Rudy chuckles at him, taking another big ladel of Pancita and putting it in his bowl. "Hey guys, are you- WOW," Sweetheart yells. "You guys really ate almost everything! The Tamales and Flautas are gone..." Alejandro hums as he swallows. "So is the Ceviche and the Pipián." They both laugh at Sweetheart's surprised face. "Yall were hungry!!"And we still are, mama!" Alejandro snickers, taking more bites of his corn. "Mi flor, how did you make some of these dishes? And by yourself?" Rudy asks. He's so proud of her. He feels like he's back at home. "Oh, I had some help! Kinda-- some of the rookies helped me make the dishes! But then I kicked them out cause they were getting on my nerves." Sweetheart said, making the men laugh. "I knew you were a good cook. You would make a good wife someday, Sweetheart!" Alejandro shouted out as he smiled. Her shy laugh made him feel warm, but he wants his statement to come true.

König wanted to cry. He hasn't seen such a big pan of Tiroler Gröstl in a while. A basket of Kaiser Rolls is next to some Kasnocken and a pot full of Potato Gulasch. He scratches the brown hood he has on. Sweetheart made it for him so he could wear it when he's on base, since his other one was stinking up the joint. He watches Krueger take a big bite of his food and gulp down his drink that tastes like Almdudler. He's also wearing a hood that Sweetheart made for him; light blue fabric and handmade yellow stars scattered around it. It's scrunched up to his nose, his scarred lips still munching on his roll. He seems to be enjoying himself. König hasn't eaten with Krueger ever since they were kids. The impact on Krueger's actions in the past really changed everything for König and the family. But at least they're bonding in silence. "Hey, you two! Enjoying the food?" Sweetheart asks. Sweetheart. "Yes, meine kleine Göttin. It's very tasty." Krueger compliments her. She giggles, but it's cut short when Krueger grabs her arm and kisses her cheek. "Thank you for this wonderful feast, my love." He whispers in her ear with a smirk. Her mind goes blank for a moment, the heat of the kiss still searing on her brown skin. König grips his fork hard, turning his knuckles white. She sputters and then loudly laughs. "Yeah! No- no problem! I uh, König? How you uh, you enjoying the food?" He looks down at his plate, still quite full of food, yet not feeling like eating any of it anymore. König smiles with his eyes. "I am, Schatz. Thank you."

Horangi was enjoying himself to the fullest. Slurping down some Jajangmyeon with korean fried chicken and Kimchi fried rice with an egg. It reminds him so much of his mother's cooking, and when he didn't receive any Valentine's Day gifts so he would eat the noodles on Black Day. He blows on the noodles, the steam fogging up his black sunglasses. He wishes his past choices didn't bring him to this point. To be reminded of what he had, and now it's gone. He drank some of his soda, causing a big burp outta him. "You seem to be enjoying it, Horangi!" But without all his choices, he wouldn't have met her. He chuckles, covering his heavily scarred smile with his hand. Her warm hand snakes around his, gently pulling it down. She wants to see his smile. Her eyes sparkle at seeing his half-uncovered face. He's so pretty... "You like the noodles? M'sorry if I got the sauce wrong, I think I forgot some ingredients--" Horangi shakes his hand up. "No, no! It's perfect. The black bean sauce is amazing. I almost finished the whole pot." He's extremely impressed by her, but the cold feeling in his spine is wanting him to put the mask back on. Sweetheart squeals and claps, "Oh wonderful! I'm so glad you like it! By the way.." She leans down to hug his frozen form. "I hope to see your smile again. It's very pretty." She says. He is not grateful for his past choices, but he is grateful for her.

Alex and Roach enjoy their food in comfortable, happy silence. Alex hasn't had a decent cheeseburger since his leave. He dips a crinkle cut fry in ketchup, while Roach enjoys a big Maine Crab Roll. He's never tasted one before, but he always has, ever since Sweetheart gave him a postcard with the Roll on it, it's been his dream to taste one. "Yo, Alex! How's the burger?" Sweetheart asks, walking up to the both of them. Alex hums with a smile on his face. "You can't go wrong with a cheeseburger unless it's from a dirty bar." Sweetheart laughs, "Amen to that! And you're you doing, Gare Bear? Ya like the roll?" She asks sweetly. Roach can feel his face heat up from the nickname. He puts it down, finally taking breaths from horking it down non-stop, and putting two thumbs up. Her bright smile made both of them feel warm inside.

Graves sighs. His bones and joints hurt so damn bad. That mission with everyone was successful but it always costed some type of labor pain. He went to his dorm, already clean and changed into casual clothes. He could've sworn he heard laughing on the other side of the base... It didn't matter to him. All he wanted to do was to sleep off this pain. He notices a big plate covered in tin foil and a small note plus a coke-a-cola on his door mat. His eyes scan down the hall way with confused brows. Is he being pranked by one of his shadows? He better not be, he doesn't have the patience for it- Oh it's from Sweetheart. Wait- "What?" Graves mumbles, eyeing the messy note. The note reads:

Hey Graves. Congrats on the successful mission

Made you some dinner cause I'm pro proo pri PROU FUCK proud of you. That is the only time I'm gonna say that to you and it's not even in person. Doesn't matter, enjoy the food

Sweetheart ♡ (p.s. you still an asshole and NO I did NOT put laxatives in your food this time)

He huffs out a chuckle with a wobbly smile. So she does care for him. In a-- weird, hateful way. He walks in his dorm with food and drink in hand and opens the tin foil, the smell of barbecue baby back ribs, steamed carrots, buttered rolls and mashed potatoes fill his nostrils. His mouth waters immediately as he sits in his desk chair. He digs in with the utensils that Sweetheart gave him, his mind immediately going to his repeated fantasy about having a family with Sweetheart. Her, serving him a big plate of food with their baby boy on her hip. She kisses Graves's forehead and situates their son in the high chair before she starts to eat as well. A happy smile works on his face, not feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks. A happy family. "It's delicious..."

- 𓆩♡𓆪 -

After Dinner Bonus!

"Hey, no one go ANYWHERE! Yall are helping me clean all this shit up!" Sweetheart points out with a frown. Soap laughs, "Of course, hen! Why wouldn't we?"

"You did a lot for us, Princess. We'll take care of everything now. Go and take a load off." Price says close to her. Very close to her. "Nah, I can help!" Sweetheart pushed. "Your shoulder has been bothering you, hasn't it?" Ghost said, making Sweetheart flinch. "Why you gotta call me out like that, man?" Sweetheart whined. He was right, though. She's been rotating her left shoulder from time to time, playing it off every time one of the boys asked about it.

Alejandro laughs, placing his hand on her hip. His thumb doing small circles on her thin clothing. Rudy and Krueger strolled towards Sweetheart. Rudy wore a soft smile, yet his eyes told a different story. A more mischievous story. Alejandro's voice dropped an octave, making a hot jolt spike through Sweetheart's spine. "Come now, mama. I know just what to do to help you relax."

°.Reblogs are highly appreciated.! Thank you for your support everyone!!

[angsthology]

Pay Attention to Things That Most People Ignore ☆ LS2

logan sargeant is most definitely not most people. it was time he started learning how

characters/pairings; daughter of poseidon!reader, chiron, mr. d, son of apollo!logan, theo (oc), son of athena!oscar.

warnings; monsters, typical pjo-type violence, logan is hopeless but that’s okay! some chb innacurracy sorry i havent read the books in a while, err very rushed writing im sorry, LAWD this is a mess i tell u 😭 perhaps i hate it — 3k words.

a/n; is the title... an all-american bitch lyric? yes. why? im not good and titles and i went to that song in instinct... for no reason. also this was based on a request — though i do admit its a little bit different as i would (hopefully) be making a part 2 hehe. by now im realizing how this title prob has nothin to do with the story

Over the years, she’s come to accept her life. Did it hurt when it felt like her entire life ended? Of course. Does it still hurt when she turns on the television to see them basically rubbing it on her face? —Whatever.

In theory, she probably could’ve gotten away with it had she not been a daughter of one of the big three—thanks a lot, dad. —but it was proven one too many times that it was not safe for her or any of the other kids. If it didn’t put anyone else’s life at risk, she would’ve disobeyed her mother, she really would (she was a child, she really hasn’t grasped the full concept of what other people would feel).

But, you know, oh well.

It’s sixteen years later and she still has that lingering grudge in the back of her head as the screen plays another Grand Prix — another Grand Prix she could’ve probably been a part of.

She tried, she really tried so hard to forget about it, to let go of it, but again, it was proven to be way too hard to let go of something she had an actual chance of, an actual good chance.

Though it might be hard to let go, she couldn’t really complain much about the life she actually had now.

Sure, it gets pretty lonely sometimes being a forbidden child, there weren’t exactly much of them (that are known and living at camp). But she had everyone else, despite practically being an only child at camp, to her everyone else there were her little siblings—of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that she was the oldest camper and the one who has been there longest.

When she heard a set of the all-too-familiar clops her heart dropped from its current fast-paced beating.

She quickly closed your laptop shut, cringing when you heard how loud of a sound it had made. That was it. She didn’t even try hiding her disappointment in herself. She slowly emerged from under the blanket with her lips tightly-wound shut, bracing herself with whatever the Centaur will have to say, her mind playing a quick telepathic farewell to her laptop.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She sighed, “Chiron.”

“Where and how?”

She swallowed the pre-existing nerves in her throat, “Mr. D.”

He hummed in response, so she continued.

“A pack of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniels.”

“Hm, good picks.” She responded lowly under her breath with a small ‘yeah’ as Chiron walked closer to the head of her bed near the bed-side table—his hooves making clopping noises each step.

The silence was taking too long to her liking so she just went to get it over with, “So, you’re gonna take it away from me?” she paused, then mumbling under her breath for herself, “—it’s probably another Red Bull win, anyway.”

Apparently, it was loud enough for the Centaur to hear, making him chuckle.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mention anything else about the laptop, “Who do you support?”

Hearing the question quickly made her look up from her fidgeting hands to see the smile on his face, she screwed her brows in confusion as she continues to look at Chiron for—something. Then, realizing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head.

“Uhm—well, uh—”

“You think that Lando will ever get a win?”

That seemed to loosen her up, “Ugh, Gods, I hope. I’m getting exhausted over here—you know, sometimes I really wish I could ask the Oracle about it.”

He chuckled then which made her crack a smile.

When it died down, Chiron looked at her smiling face. He couldn’t help but frown a little, he knew how she felt about racing, he knew how she still feels about it.

“Y/N.”

She looks up at him, “Yeah?”

“So, I am aware that your birthday is nearing…”

“I mean… why wouldn’t you be? I’m here all-year-round.”

Chiron cleared his throat at her interruption, giving her a look.

“Sorry.”

He acknowledged and continued, “I am also aware that it lines up with a certain event…”

She raised an eyebrow it that, almost guessing what that said ‘event’ was.

“So,” he stopped, initially had her thinking he was just pausing but when he left out the door of her cabin she raised her hands as if saying ‘what gives?’

Seconds passed and it seemed like Chiron wasn’t going to come back any time soon so instead she stumbled off of her bed to quickly catch up to the Centaur that was headed to a building—the girl almost caught up to him, almost following him into the building but he was already back out in a good few seconds, stopping her right in front of the set of stairs, raising both her hands in question once more, “You just left. ‘So’, what?”

“I have it arranged that you will be attending the Miami Grand Prix.” He smiled as he handed her a lanyard.

She swore her eyes looked like it could’ve popped out of their sockets in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t believe what she was holding; a paddock pass. She couldn’t believe Chiron had done this for her considering how careful of a man (well, half-man) he is especially with her being a forbidden child. This was about to turn into the best birthday yet.

When she looked up to the smiling Chiron, her mouth still hung open in shock but her arms immediately wrapped around the man’s body in a bone-crushing hug.

She didn’t know how many ‘thank you’s that spilled out of her mouth but next thing she knew he was hugging her back with a chuckle escaping his lips.

After a few more ‘thank you’s from her, she pulled away smiling at him, “I thought you’d rather keep me here forever, why now?”

He cleared his throat, “Well, you are turning twenty-one, not many of you reach that kind of age—don’t tell them I said that—so I’d like to make it a bit more special.”

Still smiling, she looked at the paddock pass in her hand again, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Chi. Thank you, again.”

Being there felt… odd… unnatural.

She always thought if she were ever walking through the paddocks she would be walking as a driver.

What was even more odd was she felt her senses tingling, like she was being watched.

It was a bustling crowded place with many more interesting people compared to her, so it was weird to her that she felt like she was being watched of all people.

But alas, she brushed it off. It didn’t feel like anything bad—if it were, she would know—so she’s just going to have to save that thought for later.

She had to remind herself why she’s here; daydream in real-time of what could’ve been.

Yeah, she weren’t really keen on letting that go.

That is, until she was into her head she failed to notice the person—and group of people that came with said person—she was running into.

Before she knew it, a strong arm was holding her back with too much force for her liking, the action itself almost kicking in her self defense instinct until the person she did bump into pushed the hand away.

He was now talking to her, she assumed, but she was too focused on the person who had pushed her away.

Something about him felt… off. He was what she would count as freakishly huge for a normal human being, her eyes couldn’t help but recalculate the large man over and over until eventually the person that has been trying to get her attention snaps her out of it.

“Sorry, that’s Theo, he’s like that. I swear he doesn’t mean any harm.”

The scowl she hadn’t realized that made it’s way to her face slowly dropped as she slowly move her gaze to the person that was talking to her.

When their eyes met, she swore she saw a flash of something pass by his expression.

“Yeah,” she finally let go of this ‘Theo’ person and found her words, “Sorry I bumped into you.”

“That’s fine.” There was a brief silence across them until he cleared his throat, “I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive for Williams.” She replied flatly.

He cleared his throat again, scanning her for the shortest moment, “Do I know you?”

She looked to his eyes again with a small squint. “Most likely not. Good luck, bye.”

Before he could say anything else she was already speed-walking away. And for some odd reason, Logan found himself watching her walk away before getting pulled away himself just in the same time as the girl turned around to give a watchful eye.

It was getting annoying. This was supposed to be a weekend to enjoy but she could not help but feel that uneasiness creeping up on her. Over the years she had somewhat mastered the ability—well more the ability mastering her—of sensing bad things, whether that was events or creatures alike.

So, to simply put that together, that’s how she found herself sneaking around the Williams garage. Not hospitality, garage.

From years of quests here and there, many hours of weapons training, and not to mention capture the flag schemings with other campers, she had mastered the skill of being sneaky. It really did work well in her favor.

What she didn’t expect was to be completely entranced the moment she got into the busy garage; it was the first time she was seeing a real life-size F1 car in real-time.

Everything was so enchanting to her, it felt like she was reliving her childhood dreams all over again. When she had gone through with her plan, she didn’t really register the fact that she was going to go face to face with an actual working Formula One garage.

She really tried to stay focused on the task at hand but it really was in her blood to be unfocused.

“Hey!”

Somehow, just somehow, she had heard his voice over the loud noises around her and just somehow, she knew he was addressing her.

Immediately, she tried to hide or duck behind something—anything just so she didn’t have to face him.

Before she knew it a hand was gripping her upper arm and pulling her somewhere quieter and she was met with green eyes that looked at her with suspicion.

“Are you like a fan or something?”

She was taken aback by his words.

“…what?”

“Are you following me?”

“What—no. I mean not you specifically—why did I say that.” she whispered the last part to herself. If she was being honest, she hasn’t really been brushing up her skills in socializing with anyone else that weren’t the campers.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! I—”

Their conversation—if you could’ve called it that anyway—was interrupted by the same man she had been suspecting from earlier.

“There you are.” It was the first time she was hearing his voice and just by that she already knew that they were going to be in big trouble. His voice was low and unnerving, saying the words as if he’s been searching for them not for worried purposes rather unfortunate ones.

Logan didn’t seem to have the same feeling as her as he looked more relieved among other things to see the man. “Theo!” he greeted while throwing his hands in the air, “What’s up, man?”

Fortunately for Logan, Theo wasn’t exactly paying attention to him instead looking at the girl in front of him instead.

When he noticed he tried to interfere, “Oh, no, don’t worry about her, she’s not harmful.” He then realized he didn’t exactly know this girl so he looked at her with questioning eyes, “You aren’t, right?”

Except her focus didn’t waver from the big man that looked at her with a stare that tried to kill.

Logan, still clueless, looked between the two back and forth in confusion until Theo said something that really caught his attention.

“Daughter of Poseidon.” Theo growled.

Logan’s head couldn’t snap towards her faster.

“Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.

Before they knew it, she had grabbed a hold of his hand and running away with it, Logan still very much in shock at this new information he attained.

Through empty places and crowded ones, the girl forgot that the man she had ahold of weren’t just anyone but a very real and hard-to-miss Formula One driver. Sure, he was a rookie but a driver nonetheless.

But she couldn’t care less about the attention she was gaining; she was far too busy running for her life than think about cameras and the public.

“What the hell was he talking about? Poseidon?!” she didn’t answer his panicked question so he continued instead, “Are you a half-blood too?”

The ‘too’ in his question was what finally caught her attention but still, she didn’t answer him, only cursing herself for not noticing one when she saw one.

Just when she thought they had lost them, the monster once disguised as Theo was standing there at the end of the opening, she and Logan had slipped in.

Next thing she knew she was fumbling around trying to fight off the apparent Giant that was Theo.

“What the hell are you doing there, mind a little help over here?” she yelled over at Logan who was pretty much… useless in the corner.

He continued to panic, looking for anything he could use to get the Giant off of her.

Suddenly, while she was struggling to get the Giant’s grip off of her, the force stopped as a cloud of mist poofed where the monster was once before. She quickly scrambled herself up and was met with a figure in McLaren clothing holding a gold-dust colored weapon pointing at her.

“Oscar Piastri?!”

He didn’t answer her, dagger still pointing at her direction, “Who are you?”

Putting her hands out in defense she explained herself, “I respect that.” she commented, “I’m Y/N L/N, I am the daughter of Poseidon,” then she cautiously pointed at the Australian, “I’m assuming you’re a half-blood too.” she nodded at him, “Who do you belong to?”

Oscar then slowly lowered his weapon, his trust building by the minute, “Athena.”

Then both of them turn to Logan simultaneously.

“No!” he got defensive immediately, “I want to know what just happened!” he pointed accusingly.

All of a sudden, it just finally hit Oscar, “Poseidon?!”

The sea god’s daughter made a face and ignored the Australian, “What do you mean what just happened? Typical demigod stuff!”

The look on his face made her double-take, “You… do have occasional encounters with monsters here and there… right?”

When Logan’s expression doesn’t change, she turns to Oscar.

“I have this for a reason.” He said slowly, showing her the dagger. “—and, well, if I’m being honest, that has never happened before.”

“Shit.” she shakes her head in disappointment then pulling out her phone, “I need to make a phone call.”

She left the two men by themselves and went ahead as the line rings a couple of times before getting an answer.

After a brief conversation—that will continue later for details—the girl locked her phone and walked towards the two drivers.

“You’re coming with me this summer. It will not be up for debate and don’t worry about your… duties, I have it covered.”

Logan was quick to stop her explanations, “Wait—what—no! At least explain what the hell that phone call was about. You can’t just drop all that on us and expect us to be okay with it.

She rolls her eyes, “I’ll explain later, right now, you two have a job to do.” They didn’t object to that, the three of them walking out the pretty-hidden space the Giant had decided to corner them before.

Oscar stopped just outside, “I can take care of myself if anything else decide to come out and attack me, you should probably go with him. And uh, I actually need to talk to you,” he pointed at her, “—later. Not exactly letting you off the hook that easily.”

She didn’t complain.

The two walked in silence, every once in a while getting stopped for a picture and such, until Logan speaks up.

“Apollo.”

She turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“My dad.”

“Oh.” She paused then comments, “Fitting.”

He didn’t know what it was in her voice, it didn’t sound exactly like a compliment but he wasn’t sure if it was an insult.

Whatever, he shrugged it off.

After that, they both went into their own train of thoughts.

Without noticing, they both sucked in a breath in unison.

“I’m sorry for—”

“I think you should—”

The two quickly stepped back from whatever it was they were going to say, heat rushing up their necks. They kept walking on the awkward silence that fell upon them until Logan re-focused his attention and remembering what she had said—well, what she almost said earlier.

“Wait—‘sorry’? What were you apologizing for?” he turned to her who was now ducking away from his eyes, her own focus stayed on her fidgeting hands.

She made a noise before finally finding her words, “It’s just—this always happens, you know. I’m a forbidden kid, I attract the worst kind of trouble there is for half-bloods. And earlier; I had brought it to you and Oscar.” he was going to say something to ease her guilt but she beat him to it, “I’m just glad that monster didn’t hurt any of you.” She threw her hands in the air, “I mean, it’s qualifying day for Gods sake! —maybe I shouldn’t go to the race tomorrow.” She mumbled the last part to herself, though not quietly enough that the driver didn’t hear.

Logan was taken aback by her statement, giving him an opening on his almost-offer.

“What—no! Why not?” he asked.

“Look, it’s bad enough that there’s two demigods in one place; adding a forbidden kid in the mix won’t really make it any better. I still want everyone to have a safe race. Who knows what kind of other monsters I could attract.”

From every point of view Logan could gather, it was simply a fact that this girl knows about their world far more than he did, far more than Oscar did, so he couldn’t really be the voice of judgement in whatever she had to say. But… he wanted her to stay.

It calmed him down for some reason, knowing someone shares the same—if not, worse—fate as you.

So, he tried to find a reason, a good reason to make her stay. Of course, he wasn’t a pro at this half-blood thing so he offered something that he was familiar with. He gave her a more… human reason.

“I think you should stay.” He blurted.

“Logan—”

“Dude—is it alright if I called you that?”

“Uh, go nuts.”

“You deserve to have some fun, watch a race! I’ll even have you as an official Williams guest!”

She hummed with a smile creeping up.

“And if you’re worried about trouble, that’s fine. We can always handle trouble! We are all trouble-bound any way, better face them now than later! Plus, I think it’d be good if you could teach us the basics early.”

She felt the warmth spread through her chest. It’s been a while since she felt someone so welcoming that wasn’t anyone within Camp Half-blood. It was nice. He was nice. Almost made her forget that she was in the place she was meant to be in.

Her heart felt wholesome, but didn’t make it show, her mouth couldn’t stop the comment from escaping her mouth instead.

“You really want me to stay, huh?”

[rose-of-the-grave]

What Do You Remember?

Pairing: Lily x James

Hey, everybody! This is part 4 of All A Bad Dream, based off of this question. I hope you like it! As always I'm the author (please don't repost)

Masterlist. Series Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: mention of suicide, trauma from a coma, hurt/comfort, Harry is loved, descriptions of canon events

Word Count: 1365

Description: When Harry's nightmares refuse to leave his loved ones become concerned so they ask him about what he experienced during his coma dream.

Taglist: @sylveryfire, @waitingformysandman

As the weeks went by, Harry’s nightmares persisted. Enough so that it was cause for alarm for his parents. It didn’t matter what they did, he would always wake up in the middle of the night leading him to be exhausted for the rest of the day. Eventually, Lily and James, as well as Sirius who had been concerned after all of the times he had stopped by to see Harry and he had been too tired to talk for more than ten minutes, decided to have a talk with Harry to see if maybe he needed to see a doctor or something.

“Hey Harry?” Lily asked. “Can you come out here please?”

Hesitantly Harry walked out into the living room where both of his parents and Sirius were sitting, all of them had tired and worried expressions. It was something he had noticed in his time getting to know them again. In his coma dream Lily and James had seemed so young because he had only seen pictures of them. Both of them had died at twenty so they had seemed so young compared to everybody else who was still alive and yet the same age. Sirius, however, he had to admit looked better. His years in Azkaban had taken a toll and yet here, standing in front of him, he looked younger. It was still so odd to see all three of them alive and well.

“Is everything alright?”

Lily smiled at him, as if to reassure him but all he could see was how tired she looked, how worried. The slight lines on her face and the sadness in her green eyes. He wished he could take it all away. Undo the coma and relive his teenage years with his parents at his side. But he couldn’t. He hated to think about how much he had put them through.

“We’re worried about you, Harry.” James sai, leaning forward a bit. There were a few streaks of gray in his hair, betraying his age. Premature, he thought. His dad was only thirty-eight. “You haven’t been getting good sleep ever since you came back from the hospital.”

“Is there something we can do for you, sweetie?” He couldn’t bear to look at his mother’s concerned face.

“I just…” He paused. “I just can’t stop remembering what happened. You were dead! And Sirius…” He turned to look at his godfather. “I watched you die right in front of me.”

Sirius recoiled as if he had been struck. The sounds of all of their gasps of surprise felt like arrows, piercing his heart.

“I almost died, several times.” Harry admitted.

Lily stood up and walked over to him, trying to wrap her arms around him to provide some form of comfort but he pulled away. “Oh, Harry.”

“And the worst part of it was, I survived. Every single time only to need to die in the end.” The words echoing in his head, ‘neither can live while the other survives.’

“How… How did you die?” He looked up at his father’s face, the worry plain to see in every line and every crease. He didn’t want to answer. In the weeks since he woke up he had only told them snippets of what he went through. Not once had he mentioned almost dying or them being dead.

“I sacrificed myself so that everyone else could live. If I hadn’t he would have killed everyone.”

Sirius stood up at his words, beginning to pace back and forth.

He knew what they were wondering. In a world where there was no magic he had quickly realized just how different things were. He knew that some of them were worried about him trying to end his life. It didn’t show through much but he could tell whenever he had mentioned the little things like how wonderful his life had been there compared to here because to him the magic had been amazing. He would have given it all up in a heartbeat for them all to be alive but it was still a magical and wonderful world.

Most of all, he remembered when they had asked about how his mind had filled in the blanks or his childhood. His mother’s reaction to hearing how her fictional sister and brother-in-law had treated him had been heartwrenching. In that moment he truly believed that if the Dursleys were real she would have been very angry.

“I saw you all.��� At their looks of confusion he clarified, “Before I died. You gave me the strength to go through with it. Knowing that I would finally be able to be with you again. Sometimes I think that this is the afterlife, that it isn’t real and we’re all dead.”

Lily gave him yet another sad look, her heart physically hurting from the pain her son had to endure. James stood up and walked to her, hugging her from behind. He reached out a hand to Harry and Sirius who both joined in. Tears rolled freely down their cheeks as the information sank in.

Later, while eating dinner, Sirius asked in a low, muted voice, “How did we, how did I die?”

Harry looked over at him and considered how to answer that. He still hadn’t filled them in on all of the details of his dream.

Hesitantly he began, “Well, Mom and Dad died when I was a baby. They were killed by a really bad man who also tried to take my life but because of Mom’s love, he couldn’t and instead died himself.” At his confused face he said, “Magic is a very weird, sort of sentient thing in a way. Her love was considered the most powerful magic. Anyway, they died and I lived with my fictional aunt and uncle until I got a letter for Hogwarts. You already know how you were in wizard prison, which is why you couldn’t raise me but when I was fifteen, two years after we finally met there was this battle and your cousin killed you.”

The way he said it, so matter of factly, was what truly amazed them all. It was so odd to see that not only had he thought he lived for seventeen whole years in a world where there was magic and things like this got to be commonplace.

“I only knew you for two years and then I lost you. I lost all of you.” He started to choke up a bit, “That’s why I have trouble sleeping. I keep imagining that this is the dream and that one day I will wake up and you’ll all be gone.”

Sirius stood up and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re not going to lose me. Alright, kid?” He ruffled Harry’s hair before sitting back down.

His parents echoed that same sentiment. It would take time for him to fully stop his brain from making him question what was real and what was not.

“Maybe you should write all of this down.” His mother suggested. “I mean, I’m no therapist but maybe if you write it all down as it happened you can use that to try and remind yourself that that is all a dream. It might help you find the distinction between your coma and what actually did happen.”

“Maybe. There’s a lot to unpack but that might help.”

“Or at the very least we should start taking pictures. You can look at them as proof of it happening. I have all of your old drawings and things, we kept every single one. There’s also plenty of photos from when you were a kid. Maybe those might help. We can look after dinner.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him with watery eyes that were a bit puffy from all of the crying that they had been doing. “Anything for you to start feeling better.”

He gave her a grateful smile. There were a lot of times when his mind would play tricks on him but at moments like these when he could feel just how much he was loved by all of his family he just knew, deep down, that this was real.

[hot-for-rock]

Passion Play

Jack Blades X OC

Chapter One

Summary: Ren is the bassist of rock Swedish band Savage Seduction. While on tour with Night Ranger, she catches the eye of Jack Blades and her life changes.

Reblog’s, likes and comments are really appreciated!

Summer 85’

Sometimes life feels like a blur. Like it's moving at a pace, I can't keep up with. Like it's rushing by me. Like I can't even process what just happened and something new happens. It's been especially like that recently. I went from a nobody to rocking some of the biggest stages in Europe as the bassist and co-founder of my band Savage Seduction.

The other founding member is our guitarist and vocalist Gunnar. Gunnar and I have been friends since we met as kids. We grew up next door to one another and both ended up having dreams of being rock stars. Everyone always called us crazy but that fueled us.

Now here we are on our second tour of the States with another gold album and a hit song and video that's on constant rotation. It feels pretty fucking great to be back.

This time we’re touring with Night Ranger. I've never met any of the guys before but I do really love their music. I own all their albums and the last time we played the States I actually went to see them live and it was a great show. So I'm looking forward to playing with them.

That's the most important thing really knowing the band you’re playing with is good and can hold up your standards. It makes it run a lot smoother and from what I've seen Night Ranger can do that. Even if we are the opening at. We aren't as big here as in Europe, but we are making ground. Especially since it was out the second time out.

Currently, we’re backstage before the show starts getting ready. I've got my bass in my lap and I'm warming up on it. Kelly our lead guitarist is sitting across from me doing the same thing on his guitar. Jan our keyboardist and Gunnar are chatting away as they finish up their hair. Mick our drummer is hitting his sticks on the edge of the table while also drinking a beer.

You think it would be weird to be the only girl in an all-male band but it's really not. They just see me as one of the guys. It probably helps I’m not traditionally feminine either. Sure I have my femininity, but most of my interests aren't “girly”. I'm into fast cars and motorcycles. I fix an engine better than any of them. I'm a champion Archer and I did a lot of motocross. It's actually how I met Kelly and got him in the band. So you could say I fit in well with these guys.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door.

“Come in” Kelly calls over in Swedish forgetting we’re in America not our homeland and most people unless on crew probably don't understand it.

“Come in,” I call after him in English playfully hitting my stupid ass guitarist.

“Oh yeah we’re in America.” he laughs.

Then the door opens and on pours the five members of Night Ranger. Who I recognize from being a fan.

“We just came to meet you wish you good.” Jack Blades my bassist counterpart and the frontman, tell us. I must say he's very cute in person and quite tiny. He's kind of like a little mouse but in a cute way.

“Thank you, I’m Ren.” I say first before anyone else in the band speaks up. We all speak English but I happen to be the best. My father is Swedish and I was born and raised in Sweden and very much view myself as Swedish, my mother was an American. So I grew up speaking both English and Swedish. She died a few ago. Unfortunately without ever coming back to her homeland, a choice she made for a reason I'll never know or understand, but I'm here now.

“I'm Jack,” he replies, then points to my bass. It's a signature I make with Hamer. Much like himself. It's a different body shape than him and mine is a deep dark purple shade. “Nice bass.”

“Thanks, it's my signature,” I informed him to play a little riff from one of our songs to show off I guess. She's a beauty and I know it.

“I figured.” he laughs, “it's nice meeting you.”

“It's nice meeting you too,” I tell him with a smile. “We’ll be seeing more of each other I'm sure.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he says with a charming smile.

Just as our tour manager comes back to tell us we've got 5 minutes till show time and Night Ranger all clear out to let us do our final preparations.

I hand my bass off to my tech and go and check myself one final time. All is looking good. I'm ready to rock these mother fuckers!

[ramseyvalentine]

— BASICS

Name: Ramsey Valentine

Age / D.O.B.: 7/04/1985 ; 37

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: cisfemale, straight, she/her

Hometown: Washington DC

Affiliation: none

Job position: Owner of Valentine and Associates 

Education: High School, Princeton for her undergrad (poli sci and sociology), Georgetown Law Relationship status: tbd

Children: none

Positive traits: loyal, adaptable, tactical, resilient,

Negative traits: Stubborn, obsessive, workaholic

— BIOGRAPHY

Triggers: death, dead body

The only daughter of a high powered attorney and a governor. Ramsey’s life had been set up for success. Much like her siblings (three older brothers) her fate to fall into their families foot steps was sealed  young; debate club, student government, honor classes – all of which would pave their way to success. 

While Ramsey’s brothers had followed in their fathers foot steps. Ramsey had followed in her mothers. Princeton for her undergrad (poli sci and sociology), Georgetown Law. After Georgetown Law she started with her mothers firm in DC where she spent a few years practicing law but it hadn’t given her the satisfaction she had been looking for in life. 

Instead of fighting for clients inside the court room, Ramsey decided she wanted to fight for them outside of it. Be the Galliador that they needed when everyone else gave up on them. So Ramsey opened up her own firm. It was small and struggled at first though it wasn’t long before her older brother was calling her for help. 

“Secrets always come out, Jake.” The word “out” was stressed harder, annoyance laced her voice. “There is a very dead woman in your bathroom. So if you want to remain in office for a second term without your wife finding out about this,” Her hand waived towards the bathroom. “You’re going to sit down and tell me everything you remember. Then –” She inhaled a breath. “I’m going to fix this because its what I do and nobody is better than me at what I do.” 

Fix it was exactly what she did. Jake’s run for reelection was never tarnished and his wife never suspected a thing. 

While DC had always been her home – Ramsey had needed a fresh start to get out of her families shadow and do her own thing. Bringing Valentine and Associates a consulting firm for crisis that needed to be managed to NYC has proven to be the right move for both her and her business. Though her time as a lawyer had been short, Ramsey had found that she was good at making other peoples problems disappear. She has been thriving in NYC and often called upon by those in need to make their problems disappear.

— HEADCANONS / PLOTS

Ramsey knows 18 languages including spanish, farsi, russian, cantonese. 

Ramsey paces in circles when she is troubled by something she considers a serious problem. She does it in perfect circles when she's really worried.

Ramsey is hirable by pretty much anyone however she has one rule when it comes to her clients; "Do not lie. They lie, all bets are off!".

Ramsey has been in NYC for a few years now and her business is thriving. Its now a team of four (some with law degress others with backgrounds that make them assets.)

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Gladiators in suits (4) - hard chargers, come from different backgrounds and stand by what V&A is fighting to do in NYC.

siblings (3 M) - Her family is everything to her and while she doesn't live as close to them anymore they talk often. Maybe one of them even works with her or has moved to NYC as well.

note this isn't perfect but I love her and I left plot holes for plotting purposes.

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

Bejeweled - VI.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Masterlist | Part V.

A month later the ton quieted down, the season ended, families retreated to their estates for christmas. Lady Violet saw that everytime you came to their home it was to visit Eloise. If you two didn't went to wander into the city, then you were in the garden or her room. Anthony's eyes sparkled everytime he heard your laugh, or the giggles around the hallways. Whenever he tried to speak to you Eloise appeared, and dragged you away. The worst part: you never seemed to mind. There was an air of sadness around you, which you tried to mask everytime your eyes met Anthony's. What none of you knew is that Lady Violet saw it all. She often conversed with your mother and father, more ofthen than not it wandered to the topic of you and Anthony. She assured your parents that they absolutely do not care about dowrys. And it is only a matter of his son's and your parents stubborn daughter's minds when they would marry.. At this point everybody knew you will, except you and him.

Daphne and Eloise came up with the idea of having a ball for christmas. One where they would only invite friends, and family. That is how Eloise handed you your invitation.

-Oh Eloise, i cannot possibly impose.. It is a family event.

-Nonsense my dearest friend, your whole family is invited, i just wanted to hand you yours in person. Lady Danbury, and Daphne and the duke is coming as well. Even Fran comes home with her husband and children.

And when Christmas Eve came, Anthony was pacing in his study anxiously. He had his mother's ring on his desk, stopping his back and forth sometimes to look at it. Just as you did in your room. Your mother knocked, telling it is time to go. Your father smiled at you fondly.

Upon arrival, your jaw dropped as you saw Aubrey Hall for the first time. Their city estate was grand, but Aubrey Hall was something entirely different. You felt like Cinderella walking into the ball that would change her life. When you entered the Bridgerton family stood on the steps of the grand stairs, Lady Violet quickly descending to hug you and your mother.

-Oh my dear, you look astonishing.

-You flatter me too much Lady Violet. - you said shyly, blushing a little.

-Come now dear, let me show you the house. - she said linking your arm throug hers.

-Your home is most magneficent Lady Violet. It must be wonderful to live in such a place.

-It could be yours you know.. - she whispered.

-Oh no, cannot possibly my lady, but i appreciate your kind words.

She hummed and resumed the tour. You finished in the drawing room, where everyone else was already present.

-Dearest Lady (Y/N), it would be such a nice Christmas gift to all of us if you'd grace us with a song on the pianoforte. - said Lady Danbury, and you happily obliged.

Anthony of course found himself mesmerized. At this point he was sure it was a constant amazement.

Dinner was pleasant, Eloise was sat opposite to you, Anthony to your side. You did not object to it, but yoi did not try to converse with him either.

-The soup is rather nice today, is it not? - he asked of you, Eloise and Benedict rolled their eyes at the sorry excuse of a conversation.

-Yes it it quite pleasant, your cook must give our the recipe. - you said politely.

-I found your cooking the most excuisite still, dare i say. - Anthony said and you looked at him.

-I found it invigorating that you would say that. - you said before stopping talking to him for the remainder of the dinner.

After dessert and more conversing, Lady Violet urged everyone to the ballroom to dance. At first you danced with Eloise, then your father, then with Collin. The last dance of the night you wanted to watch from the walls, but Anthony walked up to you.

-May i have this dance my lady?

-You may vicount Bridgerton.... Anthony..

You lost yourself in his gaze, and he did so in yours, so you did not see that noone else danced, just watched you two. It was a waltz, a dance that is danced closely to one's pair. He smiled at you sadly, and you reciprocated it.

-I've made the biggest mistake of my life, and there hasn't been a day, a moment.. I've never stopped thinking about you..You are the most remarkable spirit i have ever met.. - he said, as you looked at him smiling, but with tears in your eyes..

-Anthony... - you whispered.

-(Y/n), please let me say this for i am afraid if i do not say this now, i'll may never have the courage again..- he pleaded and you nod, your eyes finding their way back to his - You have courage and resourcefulness, talent, and you're proud.. maddeningly. - he smiled, and you chuckled - wonderfully so, and you are cunning and vibrant and completely alive.. You deserve every happiness you find.. No.no no you don't deserve happiness.. that's not what i.. - he was nervous, his forehead carried beads of sweat and you squeezed his shoulder with one hand, and interlaced your fingers with his other, giving him the courage to continue - What i mean is.. you deserve much more... you deserve magic. - he said, taking a deep breath before looking back into your eyes.

-Anthony.. i .. i never knew love other than my parent's, and although it was a great example.. this last few months thought me that love.. true love forgives, true love puts the other's happiness first and foremost, even if it hurts more than one could imagine, yet true love tosses itself at any opportunity to better ones life. Even if it is pain, true love is what one could only hope for, let alone live.. When i read your mother's letter i felt my life slowly fading away. I had to help, even if it cost me my very own life. I would ride a hundred days nonstop if it meant that you'd wipe away my tears...

-I.. (Y/N).. will you.. will you do me the honor and marry me? - he asked as you two still waltzed. You smiled at him with tears in your eyes.

-Only if you'll ask me properly. - he immediately stopped, the band still played the song, as he kneeled down. None of you heard the squeeks and sighs of your families as they witnessed it. Anthony kneeled down, opening the small boy, revealing his mother's ring, only now with added diamonds. He held it up to you, kneeling on the ground, raising an eyebrow.

You cried and beamed at him, nodding.

-Yes, yes.. a thousand times yes.

-It should've been yours from the very start. - he said as he put it on your finger, as you cried and hugged him. Everyone else hollered, cried, clapped. Only then did you realized that you weren't alone.

Then your parent's decided that the christmas opera would be the most magneficent place for your first public appereance as an engaged couple. It would be in the papers by new years eve. The wedding could be a spring wedding when the lilacs bloomed. They were the late lord Bridgerton's favourite. Aubrey Hall was most beautiful at that time.

You spent days in his study reading while he worked, or helping Eloise, or sewing your wedding dress. He lways made time to ask you how your day is, how have you slept. Or just to kiss your cheek or knuckles. He loved how that made you giggle. He did not kiss you on your lips, and tried to be a man of honor. AT least until the wedding. But as the weather started to change, signaling the incoming spring, you two often raced out on the fields. Sometimes on horse, sometimes you ran to the forest with him chasing you. There was something about your cold caused reddened cheeks, and the way your chest heaved up and down with every breath, and how you smiled at him that played with the last strings of sanity he had. He had just caught you, his hands on your waist, effortlessly twirling you around in the air, before he put you down, flushed to his chest. His nose touched yours as he inhaled your scent with closed eyes.

-Tell me to stop.

-Wh-what?

-Tell me to stop or i will not be able to hold myself back. - he said inching closer to your lips.

You closed the distance and gave him a soft kiss.

-I do not want you to stop Anthony, we will be married in a matter of months. - you whispered on his lips, and he groaned, captruing yours once more. Deepening it until you whimpered into his mouth.

-You'll be the death of me. - he said releasing you slowly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a musical in the theatre which you enjoyed, so he took you to see it. Only it was a scene too late you realized that he got way too nervous and uncomfortable besides you.

-What happened Anthony?

-Nothing love. It's fine. - he said nervously, as you saw that the actress singing a love song down on the stage never tore her eyes from the Bridgerton box, looking straight at your fiancé.

-That doesn't seem like nothing to me. - you murmured under your breath, hoping he did not hear.

-No secrets right?

-No secrets. - he smiled at you, kissing your knuckles.

After it ended the crowds lingered a bit. You stood beside Anthony as he talked to some business partners when the actress appeared on his side.

-Oh Vicount Bridgerton, how wonderful it is to see you again. - Sierra said.

Anthony tensed beside you, his jaw clenching.

-Perhasp i could entertain you with a tour of the theatre. - she flirted, now even you were anxious and if you weren't a lady you would've punched her surely.

-I don't think it would be necessary. - he said not even looking at her.

-OH vicount, i assumed.. for the sake of old times and nostalgia purely.. - your eyes widened at the realization..

-You can go my lord, i am quite tired already, i think i will return home for the night. - you said not waiting for an answer as you hurried to the carriage, leaving Anthony behind.

The next day you were sitting in the garden with Eloise.

-Eloise?

-Yes (Y/n)?

-What was the relationship between the actress, Sierra, and Anthony?

-I should not be the one to tell you that.. - she said guiltily.

You stood up, anger and hurt evident in your face.

-I guess noone close to me would be willingly honest with me anymore. He said no secrets, then she flirts with him in front of my nose. He did not ran after me by the way. I left alone. And now you keep the secret too.. I just.. ugh.. - you ran away. You locked yourself into your room for 4 days before Eloise came to your door.

-(Y/N), i miss you, i am sorry, but it is he who should've tell you about her, not me..

-He should've, you're right... yet in 4 days you are the first to come..

-He did not come?

You did not answer that question. Eloise barged into his study at home.

-How dare you?

-How dare i what?

-You did not tell her, you did not follow her, you did not visit her ever since.. Do you even love her?

-I would've told her on the way home, i had to stay cause of business with Pembroke, and as you see i am quite busy now as well.

-UGH HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUBBORN???? - she yelled at him. - IF YOU DARE RUIN THIS YET AGAIN NOONE WILL HELP YOU PICK UP THE PIECES ANTHONY.. SHE DESERVES BETTER.- then she shut the door loudly, making Anthony sigh. That night he went to your house, throwing small rocks at your window to get you to come down. You wore your nightgown and a dressing gown on top.

-I should've told you long ago, and i should've followed you when you left. I should've come here sooner.

-Yes you should've. - you said angrily crossing your arms in front of you.

-I.. i had an affair with her years ago. Then it ended and she left.

-Do you love her?

-I thought i did, but since then i know true love.. i think i never loved her at all.. i loved the thought of love.. Now.. now i love you. Only you.

-Why did you not tell me then?

-I was anxious, i did not think she would do that, especially in front of others, in front of my bethrothed.I wanted to tell you on the ride home.. in peace.

-Why did you not visit me then? four days Anthony.. four days.

-I was swamped with work. If Eloise did not yell at me i would've just think you wanted to spend time with your family for once.. and not with me..

-I wanted to spend all my time with you Anthony, but if you keep secrets, if you lie, if you forget about me, i cannot. i will not.

He took your hand, and wiped your tears with the other. His face rested on your cheeks.

-I will never spend another day without making sure you are content, and alright. I hope you know i would never seek anyone else... - he said pushing his forehead to yours.

-As much as i like these words i am not sure i can believe them. You have shown me already more than once that your words no matter how much flattery, but cannot be trusted. If you really want me to be your wife Anthony, your actions must prove so. - you said lookng at him with teary eyes before you turned around and went back into the estate, leaving him there. Before closing the curtains, you seen him looking at your window sadly, you looked back at him with tear stricken face, then closed the curtains, blowing out the candle. The darkness felt comfortable, however sleep did not find you. You sat up in your bed when the first rays of sunshine flowed through the parting of the curtain. You ladiesmaid entered, taken aback that you're already awake before gently giving you a bouquet of hydragenas with a card on it. It said meet me in the park for a walk at 2 pm. In Anthony's handwriting. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, as you nearly forgot that you're still very much angered by him, and you shouldn't give him an easy time earning your trust back.

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

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[hotchnerxo]

Insomnia ( One Shot)

Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader (Platonic/romantic, you decide) Words: 4.2K Summary: After coming back home from Pakistan and the aftermaths of his decisions, Aaron's pushing his own limits further and further until the break. Angst + hurt/comfort. Warning: Mentions of food and eating, skipping meals. Sleep issues and nightmares and weight loss. Self harm in the form of self neglect. A/N: Wrote 85% of this story middle of the night while struggling with insomnia myself. So, if you find some errors, let me know.

Insomnia

The guilt of it all was getting to him.

It’s been a couple of weeks now that he’s returned from Pakistan. It’s been a couple of weeks now that he and his team finally caught Ian Doyle. Couple of weeks since he’s had to come clean to his family about faking the death of their friend. Only a handful of people knew about the operation of Emily fleeing in France when everyone thought she had died on the operating table.

The team was coping as well as one would expect. For seven months, they’ve had to mourn the death of a friend. He’s listened to them, he’s been a shoulder to cry on. And the whole time, he knew the truth, but was unable to tell anyone.

God, did he want to. I didn’t feel right to comfort Spencer, hear him cry and worry about him relapsing. Or see the sadness in Derek, who tried to mask it the best he could. But Aaron could tell, all the late night boxing sessions were his way of dealing with the anger of not being able to help his friend. Penelope, who would eventually talk about her with joy in her voice, only to be stopped by grief moments later, realizing that she’d never hear Emily’s laugh again. David, who’s lost a lot of friends over the years, but this one hurt him possibly the hardest.

But most importantly, you. His best friend for several years now. You lost your close friend and felt lost by the grief. You had helped him with everything after Haley’s death, and here he is; lying to you about the death of their friend. He’s been comforting you, listening to you cry late at night of how you miss her and how you’re not sure how to move forward.

What about himself? Dealing with the grief of his team and at the end of the day he’ll go home to his son, with whom he’s still trying to figure out a way to deal with their own day to day life. He’s been a single father for less than two years now. And he feels like he’s failing. He and his son, still trying to adjust to their own lives, without the boy’s mother in it.

When he was offered the assignment in Pakistan, he thought it was a good idea. He’d get a chance to distance himself from everything momentarily. He’d get something else to work on, he’d get a distraction. And at first, it felt good. Work there was so different. It was intense, at times quick paced which helped keep his mind occupied. And at the end of the day, he’d be so tired that sleep came almost easily.

But what he didn’t realize was that for days at a time, he’d forget to eat. He’d be out in the sun all day and just barely drink enough water. He’d be active all day, running a task force is not an easy job to do, not to mention when you’re dehydrated and malnourished. He hadn’t realized how much weight he’d lost before he got back home.

Now that he’s home, he’s tried to get back to the habit of eating enough. Dinner is the easiest. At that point he usually is hungry and he has to cook for his son anyway, so he might as well eat aswell. But he finds himself skipping breakfast more and more often, just drinking a cup of coffee or two on his way to work. Lunch slides into later and later into the day, until it feels pointless to eat as dinner is already in a few hours. And now that he’s back in the field with his team, even dinner doesn’t seem that important.

It’s Friday night. Actually, more like Saturday morning, but time doesn’t seem to make much sense at this point. Aaron’s working in his home office. Papers and files are filling most of the surface, a laptop in the middle of it all.

Ever since the passing of Erin Strauss, the section chief, the bureau has been handing Unit Chief Hotchner more and more paperwork to stay on top of, until a new section chief is being selected. They even offered him the position, but he doesn’t feel like he’s ready or willing for that title. It has its perks, but Aaron enjoys his current job.

Aaron picks up his phone as he realizes one case report hasn’t made it to his hands. The team had returned from a case previously that day, and he was eager to get it finished as soon as possible. He stops for a moment, thinking if he should ask you about the file and disturb your evening, or wait until the morning. But he types it anyway, not expecting an answer any time soon:

Hotchner: Hey (y/n). Just noticed I haven’t yet received your case report. Please, get it for me asap. 1:55AM

He turns back to his computer, but is soon interrupted by a silent ‘bing’ from his phone.

You: Geez, Hotch. Why are you working at this hour? On a Saturday? Can’t it wait until Monday? 2:02AM

He tries to come up with a good excuse, but everything falls flat. Even if he himself is convinced that he has to work. Has to keep himself busy. But he knows you’re not going to be convinced, no matter what the excuse was.

Hotchner: Couldn’t sleep. I want to finish this case as soon as possible. Could you bring it over when you can? What’s your excuse for being up at this hour? 2:03AM

A million things in his agenda, he gets out of his chair. His legs feel tingly as he’s been sitting for hours on end. It feels refreshing to stretch them a little bit. He walks to the kitchen and prepares himself another cup of coffee and then returns to his office. He picks up his phone as he realizes the screen is on, notifying him of a new message.

You: Sure thing, boss ;) I fell asleep on the couch. You know, like humans tend to do. I am more and more convinced you’re a robot hybrid or somethn. I’ll bring it over first thing in the morning. You better sleep before it. Or else… 2:07AM

He finds himself chuckling at your text. It felt good, lighthearted. Not exactly a feeling he gets that often.

Hotchner: Or else what? 2:07AM

You: Don’t make me threaten you. Sleep. Now! I’ll see ya in the morning 2:08AM

He texts you one last time, wishing you goodnight before turning his phone screen down and turning his focus back to the files in front of him.

~~~~

The beams of sun disturb your comfortable slumber. You shift to your back, groan filling the quiet room. Coming home to your own bed after a case is always great. It’s so much more comfortable than any motel or hotel bed you find yourself sleeping on whenever you’re away.

You go to pick up your phone, checking if Aaron had continued to text you. To your relief, there were no missed messages from him, maybe he’d taken your advice and went to bed. He, if someone needs a good night of sleep.

It’s been a hard year for everyone. The whole team has gone through a lot of changes and dealt with loss. JJ leaving for the Pentagon, Emily’s death on top of the horrifying things you see at work every day. It also hasn’t been that long since Aaron lost his ex wife, since Jack lost his mother. They’re coping, day by day. And you’re glad that he lets you and Jess help them out.

For a moment, you were upset with Aaron. But at the same time, you understand why he did it. It was for Emily’s protection. And you know that it was eating him up, not being able to tell anyone, having to lie and help people grief over the death of a friend, grief over his lie. So, you forgave him almost immediately, seeing your friend safe and healthy was the most important thing.

You’ve also missed your best friend, since he was gone. It was great to have him back, physically. Sure you’ve facetimed with him many times while he was away, but nothing beats the real thing. Altho, the condition he came back in, wasn’t the optimal. He’s clearly lost a significant amount of weight, he looked beyond exhausted and his eyes felt burdened. More than usually, that is.

You hop inside your shower, letting the warm water work as a wakeup call for you. Steam filled the bathroom quickly, making it extra warm and cozy. When you’re done, you hop into your clothes and decide to check up on your friend and bring him the file he was missing and hopefully convince him to grab some breakfast downtown.

The two of you live rather close to each other, only a 10 minute ride away, 5 minutes without traffic. You’ve been to his place probably a million times before. So much it has turned into a second home almost. You love helping with Jack and movie nights with Aaron are the coziest way to spend a Sunday evening.

You gently knock on his apartment’s door. Quiet enough to be heard, if he’s awake, but not loud enough to wake him if he’s dozed off. You’ve got a key after all. After a second knock, you let yourself in and you’re met with total silence. All the lights are off, sunlight more than enough to light your way.

You leave your shoes by the door and tiptoe around his apartment. “Aaron?” you call for him silently. The kitchen is empty altho the coffee pot is half full. You check the living room, also empty. Finding your way to Jack’s room, only to find it deserted as well. A bad feeling starts to grow within you, you’re not yet sure what’s causing it. You push open the ajared door leading to Aaron’s bedroom. The sheets were messy, implying that someone has at some point been underneath them.

But knowing Aaron, you find it strange that he hasn’t made the bed yet, if he’s gotten up. He loves his surroundings to be neat and organized and leaving the bed a mess was out of character for him.

“Aaron?” you call for him again, slightly louder this time. The bathroom door is open and the lights are off, so he’s most unlikely there. You turn around and try to think of different scenarios in your head. Maybe he’d gone out for a run, or taken Jack to the park. Or maybe Jack is still at Jessica’s, as it was rather late the team had returned home.

You see Aaron’s running shoes by the door and your heart sinks. So that option’s out of the window. “Aaron?” a hint of panic raises in your voice as you call out for your friend. You hurry to check the last room, his home office. As you get closer to the door, you notice a faint beam of light shining inside the room, most likely his desk lamp.

You slowly push the door open and gently call out for him again. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you spot him. He’s laying on the floor, a few papers down with him. He’s on his back, eyes tightly closed.

“Aaron!” you shout as you rush beside him. Your eyes immediately go to search for signs of blood or other kinds of injury. But you don’t seem to find any. You gently nudge him from his shoulders, but that doesn’t change anything. You drag his chair closer to him and prop up his legs. Instinctively, the back of your hand finds his forehead to check his temperature. He’s slightly warmer than usual, maybe running a small fever. Your observation gets clearer as you see small drops of sweat glistening on his temples. “God damn it with you” you mutter and raise to your feet.

You retrieve a small towel and wet it with cold water. With a brisk pace you return to him and press the towel over his forehead and neck. It seems to be working as you see a little twitch on his lips.

“Cold” he stutters, eyes still firmly closed.

“I know. Can you open your eyes for me?” you try to stay as calm as you can, trying to think if you should call for an ambulance or not. Slowly, the man’s able to open his eyes, his pupils at first unable to focus on one spot. Once the man’s focus seems to be on you, you offer him a gentle smile “There you are. Got me worried for a sec there”.

“What are” he clears his throat. His voice is raspy and even deeper than what you’re used to “what are you doing here?” he asks again, once he’s able to form a full sentence.

“I could ask you the same thing, mister. Why on earth are you on the floor?”

The confusion on his face was almost comical. For a man with few facial expressions, he sure as hell looked confused by your sentence, as if you were speaking tongues. If the situation wasn’t as serious as this one, you would have laughed. He raises to his forearms, leaning back and even that seems to be rough for his balance. “That’s a good question” he said, more to himself than to you.

“What happened?” you ask him. He shakes his head. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

It takes a moment for him to answer. He tries to prop himself up for a better position. He lowers his legs from the chair and crosses them underneath him as he sits up. His balance still seems untrustworthy, so you keep your eyes on him the whole time, just in case he needs help. “I just wanted to finish a few things before Jack would get home,” he explains, not exactly answering your question. “I think it was almost 8 when I got up from my desk”.

You check your phone, it’s only 8.30, so at least he hasn’t been like this the whole night. He looks alright, for a man who collapsed onto the floor moments prior. His gaze seems hazy at times, if he moves his head too fast and it’s causing issues with his balance. “How are you feeling?” you ask him and of course he claims to be fine at first. You shoot him a look, trying to mimic his stern look and possibly failing miserably. “If you’re fine, then I guess you’ll have no problem getting up, huh?” you go to challenge him and his claim.

With a moment of consideration, he raises to his knees. A look on his face is focused as he tries to keep his balance. Aaron reaches out to grab your hand you were holding out to him. His palm is sweaty and clammy, but you don’t mind. It’s clear that his head is having issues as he stands up properly. He’s tall and heavy and you’re praying he doesn’t collapse again. Maybe challenging him was a bit too soon.

Aaron slightly reels back, and your reflexes go to grab him by his arms to steady him. “Still with me?” you ask, looking in his eyes, trying to find his focus. It takes a moment, but he ends up nodding as an answer. “Alright. Let’s get you to the couch”.

With slow and steady steps, you help him to lay down on his big couch in the living room. He grunts as he lowers himself to the cushions and curses his back that’s going to be in pain for days after this. A part of him is embarrassed that you’d found him in such a weak moment, but at the same time, he is grateful. He trusts his life in your hands any day of the week and even if he’s not ready to admit it to himself, it feels nice to have someone looking after him. He prefers having you around rather than anyone else.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” you question, already preparing for the worst possible answer. It takes a moment for him to think back to it, which in itself is a bad sign “If you have to think about it so hard, it’s been way, way too long” you leap to the kitchen and find something for him to eat. You hear him shuffling on the couch, trying to get up. “Don’t you dare get up” you raise your voice at him, but not in a mean way. But you can’t help but get frustrated at the man. He’s a smart man, but at times, he’s a dumbass. “Aaron. Please lay down” you soften your tone and for your luck it works. With a sigh, he lays his head back down.

“You don’t have to do this (y/n)” he tries to protest, but not giving it his full attempt. He knows it’s a losing battle if he tries to argue with you about this. But at least he can say he tried.

“Tough. I’m going to do it anyway, and you’re just gonna have to deal with it” you tell him and prepare a bowl of oatmeal and cut up some fruit. It’s quick and easy, something that would be easy for him to get down. You fill up a tall glass of water and bring them over to him. “Eat. And don’t you dare argue with me”.

Instead of protesting, he takes the warm bowl in his hands. “Thank you” he offers you a tired smile and you can’t stay frustrated with him. He looks weak, like he’s gone through way too much and doesn’t know what to do.

“How long has it been going on?” you ask him once he’s almost done with his food. He looks at you, puzzled. “How long have you had issues with sleep?”.

Once you specify your question, he turns to look down in his bowl. “Ever since I got back” it takes a lot out of him to admit that. To say it out loud that he is, in fact, struggling. “Honestly, after Emily’s…” he cuts at the middle of his sentence. He’s struggled ever since his decision, hearing his friends’ voices in his head, talking about the loss of their friend. “The assignment helped momentarily, I was thoroughly exhausted in Pakistan and it was easier to fall asleep after a day in heat. But once I got back”.

You sigh, your heart breaks for the man next to you. He feels like he needs to carry the whole world on his shoulders, all alone. And it’s a heavy burden to carry.

“But once I got back, it’s only gotten worse” he continues to explain, wording things out to make sense. Both to you and to himself. “I feel like I’ve failed” you can hear his voice break and you try your best to stay strong for him, comfort him for a change. You want to interrupt him right away, tell him that he’s not failed anyone, but you stay quiet and listen to him explain. “The team, the whole bureau. Jack and Jess. You.” he sighs, letting his walls crumble down. “I had to make the decision to keep Emily safe. But being there for everyone, trying to offer comfort when feeling guilty over the decision. And ever since I got back home, I feel like a failure as a father. In a way, I’ve always felt that way, but I was gone for months, when I have already missed so much of his childhood”.

Tears start to fall down his cheeks and they make him stop speaking. He tries to shake his head, make them go away, but it doesn’t work. They keep flooding his eyes and he curses his body, how it feels like failing him in every way. You take the empty bowl from his hand and place it on the living room table. You slide closer to him and wrap your hands around him. He doesn’t protest your effort of pulling him close.

“I’m so sorry I’ve let you all down” he sniffles to the crook of your neck. “I’ve failed the whole team as a leader and as a friend. I’ve failed Jack as a father. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired, (y/n)” Aaron sighs and rests his forehead on your shoulder. Tears fall down on your shirt as the man silently sobs.

You calmly run your fingers through the man’s back and hair as you hold him. You’re glad he’s able to let these emotions out and be vulnerable around you. But it never fails to shatter your heart in pieces, watching the strongest man you know, letting his wall down and fall down. “You haven’t let anyone down, Aaron” you try to use the best words to help him actually understand how much people appreciate him and how much people look up to him. “What comes to Emily: You did what you had to do. You did what any good team leader would do, to protect one of their own. And it worked! She’s alive, Aaron. And we managed to hunt down the man after her. The team is strong, because it has such a good man leading our way”.

“I’m everything but that” he protests and pulls away from your embrace. His big hands go to wipe away the tears on his cheeks, even if new ones keep joining them moments later.

“Aaron Hotchner, you are a good man” you punctuate every word, hoping that maybe you’ll get through to him. “You are an amazing boss and an amazing friend. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to listen to everyone mourn over the death of their friend. Me included. But the fact that everyone feels comfortable coming to you for comfort, is a sign that you’ve done everything right. Everyone is able to talk to you, without fear of being judged or dismissed. The way you value everyone as an individual, it never fails to amaze me”. You continue, expecting more objections from him.

He looks deep in your eyes with a pleading look. He wants to believe you, he really does. But he’s tired, he’s sick and his head feels like it’s filled with concrete. So at the moment, anything positive was hard to find, and even harder to comprehend.

“And what comes to Jack” you change the subject and it breaks your heart even more. You know how much the man loves and admires his son. How much he wants to provide a safe and loving environment for him, the one he never had as a child. And knowing how highly of his son speaks of his super hero. “You are his world. You are his hero. That isn’t going to change. It’s clear, to everyone, that you shower him with love and give him the tools and the environment to grow and enjoy his childhood. Explore the world and truly be his own person. You make him feel safe and valued. Everyone who’s ever crossed paths with that boy sees it”.

Aaron scoffs at you. He wants to believe it, but he’s blinded by his own fear of turning into his own father.

“You are a good father, Aaron. You are a good man, and even if I need to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, so be it”.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t fully believe you, but he’s way too exhausted to argue with you. So, he falls quiet, trying to let the words sink in.

You hand him the glass of water and stare at him until he’s finished every last drop of it. “Please lay down. You need to get some sleep” your tone falls softer and more quiet. You turn the tv on and on at a low volume. Not too loud and distracting, but enough to play in the background.

You pat your thigh with your hand. The man’s hesitant, but after a moment, he lays his head down on your lap. You help spread a blanket over him and go to run your fingers through his hair. The motion is soothing and in no time Aaron feels comfortable enough to close his eyes.

Few minutes go by in silence, only the tv running in the background. “(Y/N)?” Aaron whispers, gaining your full attention once again. You hum as a sign of your attention. “Can you stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere” you assure him. Within minutes, the man’s far gone in dreamland. You continue to play with his soft hair. Your heart feels like it is bursting. It’s filled with so much love towards the man on your lap and it aches with the burden of his. It’s filled with joy as the man feels comfortable being vulnerable around you and wanting you to stay by his side. “I wish I could somehow make you understand how worthy of love you really are” you whisper, looking down at the sleeping man. You lean to kiss his forehead “But I sure as hell am going to try my hardest”.

Taglist: @ssahotchsbitch @mayasreadingnook @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @kajjaka @reidsbookmark @thenewnormalforensicator @wheelsupkels @thedancingnerdmermaid @agirlinherhead @tonystarkscumslutz @haley-h0tchner ( mention or message me if you want to be added)

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

--------------------

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

[mildkleptomaniac]

brunch — jj maybank x kook!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ Can you do a jj x reader? He's a waiter at the club and her family is there for brunch, her parents don't know about their relationship and are kinda rude to him. Reader's done with their attitude and deffends jj and reveals their relationship by accident and her parents get mad. Love all your fics, you're so talented! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just some angst and an outburst! rude parents

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: sorry this took forever to get out! school semester just started, along with a new job. and I’m finally in the process of feeling better. I’m posting this on mobile so sorry if they layout is weird, but I hope you enjoy!

Y/N sat at the table, her parents sitting across from her as they stared at the menu. According to her parents, the world ran around them. They didn’t seem to care that they would take more than enough time to order and then usher the waiter over whenever it would be convenient for them. They would manage to make brunch turn into dinner with the amount of time they would sit at the table and slowly pick at the bread for an appetizer while slowly sipping their mimosas.

Y/N enjoyed going out for meals, but never with her parents. Sometimes she felt like she had to babysit them, especially with how they treated employees. She always apologized whenever the waiter would catch a glance at Y/N and she would give them an apologetic smile. Not to mention the amount of times she would slip in a few extra bills for the tip. Her parents were harsh when it came to the working class, which she didn’t quite understand.

But today at the Kildare Country Club, Y/N’s boyfriend would be their waiter.

JJ Maybank.

Y/N’s secret Pogue boyfriend. He was the boy that her parents would fear for her to fall in love with because they knew all too well about his family and their history. Her parents would remind her of the “better” selection of boys to pick from, which either included Kelce or Topper. Luckily her parents never mentioned Rafe Cameron—it’s almost like they knew in their gut that he wasn’t the best candidate to date.

Y/N’s parents feared that Pogues will just use her to get further in life and that she’s just some doormat to her friends. But that wasn’t the case at all, if anything—Y/N was the glue to the friend group after she began dating JJ.

A few lies a week would keep her parents fooled, thinking she was spending her time studying or volunteering when in reality, she was relaxing at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue in JJ’s lap as they sipped on cheap beers.

“Good morning, folks. My name is JJ and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” The blonde flashed his smile at the table, his eyes meeting Y/N’s. A comfort washed over the girl, his gaze always soothed any tension built in her body.

“Isn’t it Mimosa Sunday?” Her mother glanced upwards from the menu, voice flat.

“Yes, m’am. Bottomless Mimosas all Sunday.” JJ replied.

“Then get it started. Y/N would have a glass of water.” Her mother’s eyes flickered back to the menu. Y/N pursed her lips, shifting in her seat.

“What would you like to drink, miss?” JJ asked Y/N, ignoring her mother’s statement. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“I’ll take a sweet ice tea, please. With a side of water, please.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘please’ around her parents. A term to slip their vocabulary whenever they were brought face to face with the working class.

“Y/N, don’t waste your calories on a drink.” Her mother shook her head.

“It’d be okay and I don’t want to talk about that right now in front of the waiter.” She remarked through her teeth, eyes looking back between her parents and her boyfriend.

“One sweet tea and bottomless Mimosas coming right up.” He jotted the order on his pad before turning on his heel. Y/N’s father cleared his throat and it caught JJ’s attention.

“Young man, we weren’t done ordering. We would like to place an order for an appetizer.”

Y/N could feel her shoulders ache from how pinched they were with tension. Her parents absolutely embarrassed her to no end with their lack of consideration or manners. She’s surprised they got this far in life by treating people like this. They were no different than any other person.

“We would like the Mini Herb Smoked Salmon Frittatas with Deviled Eggs.” Y/N’s father read off the menu.

“I’ll get that in as soon as possible, sir. And I’ll be right out with the drinks.” He smiled before walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend and sent her a reassuring smile, trying to let her know that he was doing okay.

She knew her parents weren’t the worse to deal with, but they could be difficult.

“I’m surprised they allow a Maybank to work at this establishment. He probably steals all the soaps and colognes from the bathroom and sells them on the street.” Her father laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh honey, you’re probably right. His father is such a sleaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the boy bring home scraps from the dumpster!”

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is wrong with you both?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in distaste at her parent’s banter.

“Excuse me, young lady. Watch your language.” Her father reprimanded.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! You don’t even know JJ and you’re talking poorly about him. Obviously, he is working hard to make money. Bold of you to assume that he isn’t a hard worker—but he is. Do you not see him mowing lawns for the neighbors? Helping Hayward run groceries on the docks? If his family’s wealth is such an issue to you, why not help donate clothes and food to him?” Y/N’s outburst caught other tables' attention. She stood up in her spot, her hands clenching the table cloth.

“Y/N, you are causing a scene. You need to sit down right now or else you’re in major trouble.” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

JJ walked to the table, pretending to be oblivious to his girlfriend’s statements, which the whole restaurant practically heard her defending him. “Here are the Mimosas and the sweet tea. The starters will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?” He faked a smile.

“I don’t care if I’m causing a scene, because you’re causing a problem! You’re being rude for absolutely I reason towards JJ.” She remained standing and JJ stood there awkwardly, unsure of what the right move would be in this situation.

“Why do you care about this, Pogue? He has no meaning to our lives—he doesn’t benefit society, sweetheart.” Her father spoke in a softer tone.

“You’re unbelievable, dad! JJ Maybank is a human being who works to survive! He isn’t some scummy person and—in fact, he is my boyfriend! Mom, Dad, meet my boyfriend, JJ Maybank.” Y/N finally snapped and she gestured towards the blonde who stood there. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, stop embarrassing the poor boy at work and yourself.” Her mother’s face grew red—she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment herself.

“I’m not embarrassing myself, mom. This is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now and this is where I’ve been. I’ve been dating a Pogue. You’re sweet, precious daughter is dating this Pogue. And he is actually fantastic and cares about me—more than you two ever do!” She threw her fabric napkin on the table before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a rather large dollar bill and stuffed it into JJ’s pocket. “Here is a tip that they won’t be giving you, babe. But I think you deserve it.” Y/N kissed his cheek before walking away from the table.

JJ cleared his throat and looked around the area, “would you like a different waiter, today?”

Y/N went inside the Country Club and paced around the entrance way. She ran a hand through her hair and she tried calming herself down. She had never had that much confidence to confront her parents like that, but she knew she would face the consequences when she would go home.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned around to face her boyfriend.

“JJ—I am so sorry all of that happened and—“ He interrupted her by cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad and defending me.” He whispered against her lips. She let out a light laugh and they kissed once more. “You don’t need to apologize babe, what you did was awesome. Insane, but awesome.”

“My parents are going to kill me,” she laughed again. The reality setting in quickly.

“Then stay at the Chateau with me tonight. What’s gonna happen that’s not already? Plus, we can sleep together and I can have you tell everyone how you had a scene at brunch.” He teased, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That…that sounds nice.” She sighed, closing her eyes. JJ pressed a kiss to the temple of her head.

“I also put in your breakfast order if you wanna eat at the bar. I used the money you gave me for it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at him gratefully.

“You’re the best, J. I love you,”

“Even if I’m a Pogue?”

“Most definitely if you’re a Pogue. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

taglist: @abbyg217 @taylathornton @lemur46 @urdadsapussy @webmeupspiderdaddy  @rosarosse @5sos-fic-recs @littlethingsinmymind @pogueslandia @mrs-cameron @starduststarkey @jjshoeobx29872 @caswinchester2000 @starksvixen @mrs-talia-cameron @newtpsd @rottenstyx @professional-busboy @hallecarey1 @alwaysclassyeagle @cake2coke @siriusbutalsono @princessmaybank @wolfstar-lb @jorja-cameron @emeraldheartbreaker @nicavass

[ulalumewitch]

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[littlegodzilla]

Keys NormanReedusxFem!Reader +18

Hi! Today I come with another sequel. I really didn't expect this idea extend so much, but I've been thinking about this for a few days now (Among other things, I have too much free time now, Help!) I think with this is the last part of this story.

I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Sorry for my English, it's not my first language!

Keys.

Norman Reedus x femreader

Wanna fuck? Part 3. (part 1 part 2 )

Warnings: M, Smut, +18, fluff, a drama attempt.

Summary: You ran away from Norman and he needs to find you. The things can’t be finished like this.

taglist: @purple-serenity @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc

(If you want me to add you to the list, just let me know!)

Everything has gone to shit.

Norman's not entirely sure what's happened, but suddenly you've disappeared. Maybe yes, maybe he has a vague idea of what has caused you to run out of his house and he hasn't been able to track you down for weeks.

It's frustrating and Norman feels like he's at the end of his patience. He knows that you lead a different pace of life to everyone else, he has never minded, he has adapted to it over time, being careful how he handled himself around you and your environment so that nothing was foreign to you, yet it has worn on his patience. It's not fair to either of you, he knows, he shouldn't be thinking about throwing in the towel, he knows where he got himself from almost day one, much more confident after talking to the mother at that dinner, but still, he is frustrated. Norman really thought things were going well, that he had the situation under control, that you both felt comfortable enough together that this could happen, but no, he's failed again and you've walked away.

He knows he can't behave like a hothead showing up at your door every day, making demands of you, much less banging on your door waiting for you to open it, but he tries. Being nice, the first few days he walks around, calls you and asks you to please open the door, but no one answers from inside, which makes Norman think that maybe you have gone to your mother's house to feel more protected, but you are not there either, Norman uses your mother as a last resort to find you.

He doesn't want to worry the woman, but when he shows up at her door, she already knows what has happened. Norman lowers his head, feeling embarrassed by the situation. You are both adults and supposedly responsible people and there you are, playing cat and mouse. Sarah lets him into the house and offers him a coffee, Norman accepts although he doesn't think it will calm his nerves.

They talk quietly, Sarah doesn't ask questions, but he tells her his own side of the story, wanting to defend himself somehow, knowing that the fault is not his. None of them really, but the situation is surreal to anyone who can hear it without knowing the details. Sarah smiles with kindness and infinite affection when Norman finishes explaining himself and watches as the man runs his hands over his face and hair, a clear gesture of desperation, wanting to restrain himself somehow. Sarah gets up from her seat and walks to the furniture that adorns the entrance of the house, opens one of the drawers and returns to the living room leaving some keys on the table where the coffee cups rest. Norman stares at the object, raises his eyebrows, understanding what Sarah is offering him. He bites his lip nervously and his fingers play with the hair on his chin. He looks at the petite woman and she smiles warmly, nodding her head.

"My daughter is at home, she hasn't left the house all these days, but I've talked to her on the phone, I know you've tried to go see her every day and you've respected her stubbornness in not opening up to you, but you have to talk, so if she doesn't want to do it the easy way, other measures will have to be taken..."

"I don't want to scare her any more than I already have..." he admits lowering his gaze, but his fingers brush against the keys your mother has given him.

"You've done nothing wrong, Norman, you've taken the step you wanted to take with her and believed she would understand, and not only that, you've been patient with her reaction. You're good for her, Norman, I know that, I know she sees it too and that's why it scares her...I'm just asking you not to give up." Sarah looks at him pleadingly and Norman sighs nodding his head, smiles softly and grabs the keys in his hand, getting up.

"I'm going to fight for her, but if she doesn't see herself capable of accepting things as they are...I'm not going to force her into anything."

"I understand, Norman. Thank you." The woman smiles and stands up, hugging him.

Norman walks out of your mother's house with the keys in his hand and a decisive idea in his head. He's not going to give up, he's going to go back to your apartment and try to talk some sense into you. If you don't want him to, then he'll turn around and accept that it's all over there. But first you're going to talk to him.

Go back to your building, open the door to the street and go up to your apartment, after that night you asked him to stay there you hadn't been back there, you always met at Norman's house, but he has a good memory and remembers perfectly how to get there. He clenches the keys in his pocket between his fingers and again his teeth scratch the skin of his lower lip thinking about what he can do, what he can say. He sighs and drops the keys, knocks on the door as he has done so many times before and waits. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the door. He doesn't want to force his way in, he knows that barging into your intimacy, your privacy, isn't going to help fix things.

"Please..." He mumbles against the wood of the door. "I just want to talk to you, then I'll leave if you don't want anything to do with me, but open up..." He asks you. He tenses because he hears a creak, but it's not your door, but another one not far from where he is. He turns his head to discover an old woman peeking out of another house.

"She's not home, pretty boy." He says to her in a shaky, muffled voice. "She went out a few minutes ago, if you wait, she won't be back long." She tells him with a wrinkled smile. Norman mimics her gesture by nodding his head.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry for the show." He hones in, but she shakes her head, downplaying the matter.

"That's all right, young man. You like her very much, don't you? She's a very special girl."

"Yes, yes she is..." He smiles because it's true. He steps away from your door and walks over to the lady who smiles a little wider, opening the door to her house. "But I don't think I'm doing things right with her."

"Don't talk nonsense, I know she likes you too."

"Has she been told?" Norman looks at her in surprise and the woman laughs low.

"No, but I see these things and I’m old enough to understand what she's thinking about." She tells him in a confidential tone and winks at him. "Don't let her get away." She squeezes his arm affectionately and closes the door again.

Norman stands there for a moment staring at the closed door, weighing what the old woman has told him. He tenses because he hears footsteps on the stairs and turns in time to see your head appear around the corner of the hallway.

You are unaware of his presence, you are looking inside your bag at the things you have gone to buy at the supermarket down the street. Normally you do all your shopping online, but you needed food and maybe to get some air, so since you had work ahead of you, you allowed yourself to go out and shop. You don't really like it because you always end up buying things you don't want because what you're looking for, specifically, they don't have it, but this time you're satisfied with your purchases. You're near the door when feet appear in your field of vision. You stop and raise your head. Your face pales as you discover Norman in front of you. For a second you want to turn and run, but Norman grabs your wrist. Your gaze shoots from his face to your hand and back to him. Norman releases you by holding up both hands, in an attempt to get you to stay calm. You babble, fiddle nervously with the keys and the bag in your hands. He still doesn't say or do anything. Following an impulse you can't control you open the door to your house and leave it unlocked. Norman hesitates for a moment, but then comes in after you, closing the door behind him, following you into the kitchen where you leave your shopping bag. He continues without a word, watching your movements, watching as you gather the groceries in your fridge and various drawers, pick up some clean dishes and make coffee. Norman sighs biting his lip. You startle when you hear him speak.

"Aren't you even going to look at me?"

"I'm making coffee..." You reply. "Do you want some?"

"Yeah, sure, do you want me to help you?"

"No, it's just a coffee..."

"Yeah, sorry..." The nervousness is evident in him, he's folded his arms and repeatedly bites his lower lip, tugging at his beard hair with his teeth. "Do you think you could put that down and talk to me?"

"Coffee's almost done..." You mutter turning back toward the coffee pot. Norman lets the air out of his mouth very slowly and nods.

"Okay, fine, we'll do it your way..." He agrees without turning away from the kitchen door, not taking his eyes off everything you do.

You move through the kitchen, take two cups and prepare coffee for both of you, black with two spoons of sugar for him and for you a little milk and two spoons of sugar. You hand him his cup with a nod of thanks and move into the living room where you have your entire work area set up. Several computers plugged in, your laptop on the side table next to the couch. You point to it and both of you sit there. The silence is still thick and uncomfortable. Your heart doesn't stop beating violently and violently, your mind doesn't stop working at a mile a minute. There are too many variants open and again your anxiety is winning over your sanity. You have to get back to work, you're on your workday, you can't neglect your job. You have to talk to Norman, clear things up or else ask him to leave, to leave you alone. You also need to talk to your mother, set some rules as it is clear that she is taking too many liberties. Especially when Norman leaves the keys to your own apartment on the table in front of you. You raise your head looking at him in surprise.

"Your mother gave them to me, I thought I should use them if... you kept ignoring me, but I didn't want to force things, I didn't want to pressure you."

"And coming to see me at my house and knocking on the door everyday when I'm working?"

"I'm sorry, I know I was an idiot doing that, but God, I didn't know what to do." He ran his hands over his face again, trying not to get too worked up. "You just disappeared."

"I didn't... you gave me..." You mutter, lowering your gaze again.

"It was just some fucking keys..." You snort unable to control the frustration in your voice. "They don't hurt you, you know, you could've..." He licks his lips searching for the words. "I don't know, you just could have not taken them and that's it."

"It's... It's another change, Norman I didn't..." You muffle because you know what he's going to answer you, you can see him clench his fists slightly, controlling himself. "A set of keys means a lot of things... I..."

"Meant nothing more than what they are, keys." He cuts off your stuttering and hesitation. "We always go to my house, okay?" he shrugs wanting you to understand what he means. "We've been doing this for two years, and...I don't know, I thought maybe some keys wouldn't hurt."

"It implies a commitment, Norman..."

"It doesn't imply anything, just that you can come to my house whenever you want... I told you, I'm going to be with you as much as you need me, but you can't block me every time I want to do something else for you..."

"You already do for me..."

"I don't want to follow a fucking plan." He cuts you off again and you bite your lips holding back your thoughts. "I don't want us to compulsorily see each other on Fridays, yes, it's not once a month anymore, yes, now it's every Friday of the month, I know the changes are slow going with you, I know you have a hard time accepting them, that you don't like them, but I thought we talked about this."

"You are not a change..." You mumble understanding what he means.

"Exactly...It’s been..." He bites his lip and moves a little closer to you, squeezing your hands between his. You startle and look up at him. "It's been two years since we started this...I don't want to follow a fucking calendar." He says and knows he's letting his anger get the better of him and he takes a deep breath. "I want to be able to meet you on Monday, Saturday, Friday, I don't care what fucking day. I want to be able to call you, know if you want to see me and leave the house or not, fuck like animals here or at my place, come home from work one day and see you waiting for me on my couch, not because it's the fucking day we're supposed to see each other, but because you really want to see me. That you've missed me at some point." He's sincere and squeezes your hands a little between his. You stare, understanding what he means, thinking over all his arguments, looking for a logical answer that will make you also understand if you want the same or she's just crazy. Norman sees that you are not able to answer and speaks again. "Is it the case that when you stay at my house on the weekend you feel bad about being there? Tell me, do you feel uncomfortable when you stay with me after we've seen each other on Friday?"

You hesitate for a moment on what to answer, there are so many things swirling around in your brain at the same time. You understand what he's telling you, what he's asking, but he also knows that you can't give him a yes or no answer, your answers are never simple, you never leave your decisions to a few simple monosyllables. You look down at your joined hands and feel his thumbs caress your skin lovingly.

"Yes..." You whisper, but he doesn't move, he waits, he knows there's something else caught in your throat. "I was uncomfortable, at first and yes, I wanted to leave because it wasn't what was agreed, I didn't want to... but that gradually changed, like everything about you... you always manage to trap me, you always manage to make my mind cloud and with you I'm unable to think about anything else but you... See us outside of... our dates? Yes, I thought about it once, I even came over to your place one night, but...

"What?" he looks at you in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me... why didn't you knock on the door?"

"Because I showed up there too late, it wasn't the right time... maybe I could have bothered you or..."

"Oh God..." He can't help but chuckle under his breath and cover his face with both hands, trying to process what you just said. "Really, and I give you my keys and everything goes to shit?" He still can't believe it. He knows he shouldn't be using that asshole tone, but he's just feeling overcome. "You came all the way to my house yourself outside of our... dates. Don't you think if you had my keys, you would have avoided standing at my front door and going home? You could have come in whenever you felt like it and we would have had a great night, don't you think?" He insists and once again, the pieces seem to fit together much better than they do now Norman is the one explaining the situation to you.

"Yes... I suppose you're right, as usual..."

"No, don't say that, I don't want you to feel obligated to believe what I tell you." He sighs and again his hands fall on yours, he squeezes them and brings them over his mouth, kissing them lovingly.

"No, but it's true. I've gone back to acting without thinking about... anything." An amused smile forms on your mouth and Norman looks at you with a frown. "It's ironic, because my brain can't stop thinking... even now..."

"What can I do to make you stop thinking? What do you need me to do? Tell me." He looks at you intently, one of his hands releases yours and strokes your cheek affectionately.

You stare at him for a moment, move closer to him and kiss him slowly, your lips caressing his. Norman gasps, holding the back of your neck, kissing you back, making you sigh against his mouth.

Norman didn't come to see you with that intention, he didn't really have it in mind at all. But you find yourself in front of him, completely naked, devouring him with your eyes and he is not made of stone. Well, he is now, but for a totally different reason. His bare chest and his jeans concealing a more than obvious erection. He settles down on the couch, spreading his legs, inviting you to come to him. His own fingers caress his lips, watching every move you make, his breathing is heavy, but he tries to be as calm as possible, letting you do what you need to do with him. You walk slowly up to him, your leg brushing against his as you slowly, slowly climb onto his lap, resting your hands on the back of the couch he's sitting on. Norman's breathing becomes heavier as you consciously brush your breasts against his face as you sit up. Your hard nipples brush against his lips and Norman opens his mouth to catch your tit between his lips. You gasp and moan at the feel of his lips and tongue against your skin.

His hands caress your thighs slowly, you sit fully on his cock, hard and hidden inside his pants, you move your hips against him and Norman releases your breast from his mouth, panting against your wet skin.

"This is... this is all we are?" you gasp feeling your mind finally stop thinking.

"No... you know it's not..." Norman caresses one of your cheeks, lifting his head to kiss you slowly, stroking your hair, letting it fall to your shoulders. "But if it helps you keep your mind blank..." he smiles kissing your jaw, moving down your neck slowly. You gasp letting yourself do it, closing your eyes. "I told you I'd be with you whenever you needed me... and that's what I'm doing." He whispers against your skin, catching one of your breasts in his mouth again, enjoying it. You sigh at the sensation and move your hips against his body, rubbing against his hard bulge still inside his pants.

Your hands come loose from the fabric of the couch to caress his head, his shoulders and down to the edge of his pants, brushing your fingertips against his belt. Norman pulls away from you a little again, letting you follow your path, you settle over his thighs unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. You slide out and between his legs holding the edge of his pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down, Norman lifts his hips to help you and you leave him totally naked in front of you. Your eyes are riveted on him, who doesn't look away either, with a crooked smile, slowly stroking himself, hardening his cock all the way. You lick and bite your lower lip crawling up to him, licking the tip of his cock as he grips his own erection from the base, grunting at the wet touch of your tongue.

You like hearing him, you like feeling him grunt and twitch with need and some desperation as you take your own time sucking and licking the tip of his cock, producing little wet sounds that bounce in the silence of the room. Your hand replaces his hand at the base of his cock and as your mouth continues to give his tip a warm wet treat, your hand strokes and moves up and down his length. You hear a hoarse moan escape his mouth, your chest filling with a certain pride in yourself. You look up and your body shudders as your gaze connects with Norman's, he watches you intently, breathing hard, biting his lip, enjoying what you are doing with him. Your fingers close around his base and you open your mouth a little wider inserting every inch you are able by closing your lips around it, starting to move your head in a gentle up and down motion, lubricating his entire cock with your saliva.

"Oh fuck!" Norman grunts and his hand closes over your head.

For a second you stop, but again your lips close around his cock, still sucking up and down, tightening your grip on his base a little. It's another thing that has changed in your relationship. The first few times you shared your intimacy, the contact you allowed from Norman to you was minimal, only when he takes his time to go all over you. When you were the one enjoying him, the occasions were very specific, but now you don't care. You like to feel his hand closing in your hair, his fingers twitching against your skin at the pleasure, his hips moving against your mouth wanting to go deeper. You've tried, but your mouth has never fully cooperated, yet you know you're capable of making him enjoy it, of taking him almost to the limit, of feeling his thighs tremble and his cock swell inside your mouth, only to stop and leave him there, pleading and completely needy. You've discovered that you like the animal side that takes over him when you play with him like that.

“I love that fucking mouth of you…” He grunts and his fingers grip harder your hair. “Feels so fucking good around my cock…”

Your body shudders when you hear him talk. That's another thing that has changed between your relationships. At first Norman didn't talk much, if at all, while you were fucking. Maybe a little at first or when he felt your mind going back to thinking too much, but it wasn't usual. Then, little by little, his tongue became bolder, in every possible way. At first it felt strange and even uncomfortable, you felt that something was cutting the moment short, forcing your mind to start up again, but then you discovered that it wasn't your brain that started to work at speed, but your body, which reacted to every word the man whispered, with goosebumps and your pussy totally wet.

“You like that too, right? All my cock on your mouth, taking me to the edge… Feeling my cum on your tongue…” He grunts again and you moan getting wetter just thinking about it. “Yeah, I know, girl, but not now. I wanna play with you too… Stand up.” He says and you look at him sucking his cock once again before doing with he wants.

You stand up slowly, feeling the insides of your thighs completely wet, Norman looks at you biting his lip. He lies down on the couch and gestures for you to come closer again. Once upon a time you would have demanded that you go straight to the bedroom, that the couch was no place for such things, but now you feel the need hitting you so hard, you can't even protest.

You approach ready to straddle him and ride him the way you both like it best, however, Norman holds your wrist carefully and guides you. A gasp of surprise catches in your throat as he pulls you down and you end up on top of him your thighs on either side of his head. He pushes you down and his tongue brushes your folds from his position beneath you. You moan and shudder. You clutch at the couch and your other hand closes on his hair.

You've never sat on a man's face before and your whole body trembles at the sensation. You gasp as you look down to find Norman staring up at you. His hands caress your legs, your thighs, his fingers spread your folds further apart and his tongue delves deep into your tight interior. You cry out at the sensation and your legs slam together. You exhale in fear and move over him. Norman stops and looks at you with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“N… No… I never… I never did it before…” You mumble embarrassed, fearing that in some movement you couldn't control, you might hurt him. He smiles understanding what might be going through your mind and turns his head slightly to kiss your thigh.

“It’s okay, let’s go to the bed… You will not to escape from me anyway.” He smiles and you do the same getting up of him.

Norman has you back on the mattress. Your legs raised, the inside of your knees resting on his shoulders, he has you with your hips slightly raised, holding your thighs and his mouth is once again buried in your pussy. He licks, bites and sucks your folds, his lips tighten around your clit making you moan, arch against him and fuck you against his tongue as he makes his way inside your wet inside. His gaze is once again fixed on you, not for a second neglecting what he is doing. Your mind, as well as your body, are a complete mess, as he always manages, you can't think, you can't be coherent with any of your actions feeling his tongue take you to the limit. He lets go of one of your legs and inserts his fingers spreading your walls apart, moving them in and out, curving them inside you touching that special spot that manages to make you see stars. You moan loudly and arch once more, pull his hair hard and cum against his fingers and mouth, feeling the spasms of pleasure shaking your whole body uncontrollably. Norman licks, sucks and moves his fingers, slower and slower, until he pulls them out. His gaze is on you again, he sits up and licks the cum on his fingers, you gasp at what you see and bite your lip. Your gaze is clouded with desire, your chest rises and falls erratically, your body still twitching in the little scraps of pleasure that envelop you. Norman stretches over your body, now your legs encircling his waist, he kisses you slowly, with infinite affection, his tongue brushes your lips and enters your mouth lazily, he breaks away again to look at you and kisses your chin and neck.

You caress and scratch his back enjoying the kisses that run down your neck. You bite your lip and push his waist a little. He puts up no resistance. He separates from you and lies down on the mattress. You sit up, your hand caresses his hard erection and Norman hisses holding your wrist.

“Easy, girl… I’m so fucking hard, I could cum too fast.” He says in a husky voice and you nod.

You let go of his cock but not without squeezing once more on his tip, Norman moans and uses all his self-control not to cum on it. You straddle him, rubbing your folds against his erection, lubricating it with your own flow. He holds you by the waist and helping you position yourself on top of him, you sit on his cock, feeling it work its way inside you without resistance. You moan once more, he grunts digging his fingers into your skin and holds you still, again controlling himself. You watch him out of the corner of your eye guessing when you can start moving again, your hands rest on his thighs and you begin to move slowly over him, bouncing slightly, gasping as his own hips rise, meeting you on the way, going deeper, throwing you back to the edge of your own pleasure. Norman joins in, wrapping his arms around you, the two of you sitting on the mattress. His hands move down from your waist to your ass, your knees dig into the mattress to gain momentum, your hands clinging tightly to his shoulders starting to move quickly over him. Norman helps you propel yourself by grabbing your ass, digging his fingers into your skin and even allowing himself to spank you. You moan at the sensation and clench tightly around his cock.

It's triggering for him, as he feels his cock strangling around your walls he can't hold back any longer, he moans hoarsely against your neck, his fingers pull at your skin and push you down, getting wedged deep inside you as he cums intensely. The heat his cock gives off and his cum inside you, makes your body shudder and you reach your own orgasm, pressing back against his cock feeling him pulsing inside you.

Norman opens his eyes the next morning. It takes him a moment to discover that he is still in your bed, but you aren’t with him. There is a small twinge in his chest of fear, imagining that you might have run away again or waiting for him to ask him to leave. He remains silent and hears a steady murmur coming from your living room. You're talking to someone and from the mechanical tone of your voice, Norman deduces it's something about work. He stretches out under the covers and looks around for something to wear, but remembers that all his clothes were left lying on your living room floor, he's never left anything there either, so if he wants to go out he has to do it naked. Not that he minds, but he's convinced it won't be a good show if you're in a business meeting. He finally makes up his mind by wrapping your sheets around his waist like in the typical movies, feeling a little ridiculous, but at least this way he'll placate a little embarrassment if your coworkers see him through the camera. He trips a couple of times on the fabric of the sheets but manages to get out of your room unscathed. He peeks through the living room door and smiles.

As I thought you are busy talking to your co-workers. You seem to be explaining to him your latest interventions, what you've been up to over the past few days, the results you've been getting, but that's not what really catches his attention. Your hair is messy and you look a little sleepy, maybe you've been up too long talking about it, over and over again, but what he likes is to see his shirt wrapped around your body. You got up in a hurry and it was the first thing you grabbed before starting the meeting. The smell of Norman on the fabric relaxed you and allowed you to focus on what you had to say without overthinking things. Something that surprised your colleagues. You continue talking to them, your fingers stroking the collar of your shirt, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin. You spot Norman in the doorway, but he doesn't move, just nods at you. You smile and point to his clothes, folded and gathered on the table you use for family meals. He winks at you in appreciation and walks over, avoiding being seen by your coworkers and puts on his boxers and pants, folding the sheet to put it in the washing machine if you want. You look back at the computer screen, listen to the proposals of your coworkers and your boss and say goodbye to them, turning off the laptop. You get up from the couch and stand there quietly, watching him. Norman smiles and points to the kitchen, separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. You haven't spent much time in your house, but you've had breakfast there before.

"Would you like me to make some breakfast?" he offers and you nod.

"Thanks." You whisper and Norman walks over to you giving you a soft kiss.

"Good morning..."

"Good morning..." You reply back feeling your cheeks flush. It's like you're getting to know each other all over again.

Norman walks back to your kitchen, the good thing about you being a methodical and mechanical person for some things makes it easy for him to find things around him. He's a bit of a stickler for that too, but not to your extreme. You sit on the stool in front of the bar watching him move from side to side. He looks so natural that again your heart races. You clench your hands tightly, rubbing them together nervously. Norman catches your eye after placing the coffee pot on the stove and there is a mute question in his gaze. You know you've left a talk hanging, that last night you had to have a serious talk about what was going to happen from now on. Norman has nothing more to say for now, you are aware of that, now it's your turn to be clear with him. You sigh and tangle your fingers in your own hair before intertwining your hands again.

"I think I'm afraid to fall in love with you..." You whisper at last, not daring to look at him, but you know Norman doesn't take his eyes off you. "I think... I was afraid of falling in love with you..." You clarify because you're sure it's too late to stop that from happening. "You know things work differently for me..." You whisper again and Norman nods his head.

"I know, but it's been two years..."

"I know, but I'm not like you..." You shake your head because you don't want to refer specifically to him. "Like everyone else... I need a plan, a routine, I need stability so that... so that I don't collapse..."

"I understand..."

"No, actually you don't." You look at him and sigh covering your face with your hands. "I need everything to have a specific place and control around me so I can keep moving. Since I've known you all that has failed, everything has been changing, little by little around me; changing things, bringing in new things and forgetting routines I had since I was almost a child... Everything has been transforming around me and you've seen what happens when that happens."

"It's never been a problem, I mean... We've known how to handle it..." He insists, he thinks your relationship is on a good footing, or at least he thought it was.

"And it's not, at least not now, now that I've adjusted to... a lot of our relationship. I like hanging out with you, I like being with you, staying at your house even if it's not part of the program, I'd like to see you outside of the program we have set up, but I'm afraid that one day... it'll all be over." You lower your gaze again and bite your lip nervously. "I can't go back, I can't... forget about it and start from scratch like you or someone else would. You leave a person because you stop liking them, or because things become complicated, you are maybe a few days or a few hours bad and the next day you find another person who seems to fill you as well or better than the previous one... I can't do that. My brain won't let me, I'd need to think it all over again, rebuild my wreckage, almost everything would go back to zero and... and I'd just collapse." You confess and your voice sounds choked, tears have taken over your eyes without being able to control it. Norman moves closer towards you and his hand squeezes yours. Your whole body shakes so hard he's afraid you'll break. "That's why every time you wanted to be with me, to bond with me in a more personal and intimate way I..."

"You think you're the only one in love?" He tells you softly, you lift your head like a spring and see that his cheeks are aflame. "Do you really think if I didn't care about you I'd be here?" He asks you again, but doesn't wait for you to answer. "You are important to me. Very much. I've had times when yes, I've wanted to throw in the towel, Has it been frustrating? Yes. Have I felt overdone? A lot, but it's not your fault, or mine. It just is what it is. And I'm not going to run away. And if you need me to come after you when you run away again because you really don't know what you're doing. I will. I told you, I'm going to be with you whenever you need me. That the first night was weird? It was, but I think it was for both of us. That the second night was personal curiosity? Yes, I confess that too, but then everything came together. I don't know whether to call it love, even for me the word is perhaps too strong, but I'm not going anywhere, nor am I going to get bored of you. That's not going to happen.

"You're just saying that now..."

"I've been telling you that for two years, actually." He jokes and you look up at him again, his warm, amused smile making you smile too. You squeeze his hand against yours and then stand up.

Norman takes advantage of you stepping away to take the coffee off the stove and put two cups on. When you return to the table, you leave the keys your mother had given Norman the day before on the table and look at him hesitantly.

"You can... You can keep them... I'd really like you to come and see me... Even if I'm working or it's not... Friday..." You say this last in a breathy whisper and Norman's smile grows much wider.

"Thanks, I'd love to... Mine I think you still have them." He jokes raising an eyebrow. "You ran out of my house with them in your hand."

"Y... Yes, I'm sorry..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He smiles once more and hides the keys in his pants pocket, just in case you drastically change your mind again at some point.

Your back protests once again as you shift in your chair and groan low. You've clearly stretched your working hours beyond what was rightfully yours, again. You peel your eyes away from the computer screen, rubbing them with your hands, feeling them dry from overexertion. You look around, still getting used to the idea that this is your new workplace. It's been a few years since you have reduced your work area to that room in your new house. You were used to working anywhere in your apartment, but that has been changing little by little, like everything else. But it's good, you know, there's nothing to worry about. Besides you imposed it on yourself for obvious reasons.

You smile weakly drinking from your coffee cup when you hear the door of the house open and close, filling the silence with laughter and nervous, anxious voices.

So much had changed.

Your gaze falls on the ring that decorates your ring finger and you rise from your chair, ending your workday. You grimace painfully and bring your hand to your bulging abdomen, caressing it gently, feeling the little one stir inside. The door to your office opens and two pairs of blue eyes stare at you, asking permission in a mute way, if they can come in. You smile and walk towards them.

"Are you done yet?" Norman asks you, opening the door all the way. The little boy with him runs up to you and hugs your legs.

"Mom, dad says we can go to the park if you're done working! Can we?" Norman's little reflection pins his innocent gaze on you and you laugh nodding your head.

"Sure we can, I think I've been sitting here too long." You smile and Norman comes up to you kissing you lovingly, his hand caresses your belly and his eyes sparkle with restrained emotion. Your cheeks redden as you look away, you still can't get used to him looking at you that way.

"How are you feeling, is she behaving?"

"Yes, you know it's been a very quiet pregnancy."

"Good, then I'll get some things ready and we'll go to the park."

Now you remember with embarrassment what your first pregnancy was like. You were so surprised by the news that you repeated the test a couple of times and then went to the hospital for a third. But there it was, it was tiny, barely a couple of weeks gestation. A "chickpea" as the doctor who attended you had called it, and for the first time in your life you felt like hitting someone. You didn't have a chickpea in your belly, you had a baby. Yours and Norman's. You had made a little person and you needed Norman with you to take it in.

You burst into the man's work to the cry of "I'm pregnant!" you literally shouted in the middle of the photography studio earning you a look of surprise and amusement from everyone there. Norman was thankful that day that he had his camera strapped around his neck or he's sure it would have fallen out of his hands.

After that you both needed a moment to take it in. Of course it wasn't an easy thing to hide until you were sure the pregnancy was going well, your scream in the studio had caused all your mutual acquaintances to spread the news like wildfire and a few hours later you had your mother in your house. For that was another change that had happened to you before the baby. You and Norman had married and moved into a nice house where you could both start from scratch. It was a complicated process for you too, but it was less difficult than you had expected from the beginning.

The dizziness, the nausea, the avoidance of certain foods and suddenly wanting to eat other things you had never tried before made the eight and a half months of your pregnancy a real roller coaster for you and Norman, you were both new to it all and every gesture, discomfort or doubt that assailed you became a big dilemma that kept you both on edge. At least at the beginning. From the fifth month onwards you both seemed more sure of what you were doing and Norman loved touching you, loved having his hands always on your belly, feeling it grow, feeling the baby move. He would lie close to your belly and whisper to it as he caressed your skin, sometimes, to your surprise, the little one would react to Norman's presence by moving into his touch or his warm breath would collide, making the man smile with immense excitement.

You never expected Norman to be a man who adored children.

"How did it go at the studio? I hope he's been good..." You say looking sideways at your son.

The little boy was born with a personality very similar to yours. Some things that happen around him are hard for him to assimilate, but it's not as drastic as in your case, however when he feels anxiety taking over he shows it by getting too excited. Norman found that painting and photography calmed the little boy. Despite his young age, he was able to capture very interesting things in the pictures his father let him paint. While Norman took care of the photography, developing and mounting, the boy stayed close by, painting on small canvases or in sketchbooks. Crises had dwindled to almost none over the course of the year, but one could never let one's guard down for good.

"We brought a gift with us. We left it in the living room." He tells you as his only response, biting his lip in amusement.

"What did you guys do this time?" You look at him fearfully and the three of you walk out of your office.

Your eyes widen when you discover that your son is holding a small black kitten in his hands, clutching onto his shirt like a life preserver. You look at Norman and his smile grows much wider. He's enjoying the situation, he knows you like animals and that you're not going to be able to say no to him staying at home.

"How did you...?" you try to ask and he laughs with a shrug.

"Our little adventurer found him and held on to our son so tightly that I couldn't say no to him." You look back at the boy petting and playing with the cat who keeps purring and rubbing against his face, making him laugh. "I think it will be good for him."

You look sideways at Norman and then at the little blond boy who has put the little kitten down and both of them explore the room making little jumps and running scared when some extraneous noise over jumped the little feline. You smile and stroke your belly feeling your second baby move. Norman catches your gesture and comes over and hugs you from behind. He kisses your cheek, rests his chin on your shoulder and his hands caress your sides, the baby moves again, looking for the source of warmth and you smile.

"You know what I love most about your pregnancies?" he whispers in your ear, as if it's a secret. "How big your breasts get..." He confesses and after a few seconds you both laugh loudly. You shake your head and turn around hugging him.

"You're such an idiot..."

The End...

Thanks for reading!

I hope you liked it!

See you in the next story!

[hrwinter]

Lena placing a pair of glasses on a pillow and making out with it pretending it’s Kara

Lena’s not always this drunk. Well. Lena hasn’t historically imbibed this much after the age of 26, but her mother’s been arrested and her best friend is a liar, so what else is there to do other than look for an answer at the bottom of a very large bottle of scotch.

She’s been to three upscale bars and restaurants with Andrea, both of them reverting to their messy boarding school days almost instantaneously after the third glass, giggling in the corner and overtly hitting on men and women by sending them pretentious $24 cocktails.

But there’s still a dark streak in all the buffoonery. Lena can’t stop searching for blue eyes on the face of every blonde or broad shoulders under the lapels of every Armani jacket. She hates herself for it. And she hates Kara Danvers. Or Kara Zor-El, whatever the fuck.

Lena is pissed.

She takes another moody sip of scotch while some stock broker continues to shoot his shot (why do they all talk the same? why do they all feel the need to explain how money works to her, a billionaire?) and Andrea’s laughing and laughing at a woman far too loudly, her finger tips sloshing the edge of a martini she absolutely doesn’t need. While the man goes on about blue chip stocks, earnings per share, dividends (kill her), Lena’s eyeing the restroom.

No one would miss her if she ducked out. She could have a car here in minutes. Hell, Andrea would probably appreciate the attention of both parties at the same time. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d finagled a twosome into a threesome.

But that means going home. It means gazing at the dark sky from the cold enclave of her penthouse balcony. It means seeing the downturned photo frame, glass smashed, but still not thrown away.

God damn Kara. She stays.

She doesn’t go home with the man, and Andrea doesn’t go home with the woman. They don’t all go home together. But she and Andrea do go to another bar, and after that, an after hours bar. Then, by some misfortune of a higher power, they end up at a bratwurst stand at 4 AM with a horde of college kids. College children.

“Someone threw up just there,” Lena points at the pavement.

“Oh, don’t be such a snob!” Andrea shrieks into the night, grasping at Lena’s elbow and toying with a necklace Lena knows to cost more than a tricked out Vespa. Lena may be glassy-eyed, there may even be two of Andrea, but she can still spot irony.

“I’m starving. And I haven’t had one of these in yeaaarrrsss,” Andrea elongates as they move up a few paces in line. “Remember when we’d sneak into town and grift old men for drinks? That hot dog stand just outside of Hawthorne’s? I’ve been desperate for one.”

Lena wants to complain more, but it does smell good. And by the time they have bratwursts fisted in hand and are leaning against a nearby brick wall with the rest of the infants, Lena’s not feeling all that bad. It might be the best thing she’s ever tasted in her life. God, this might be the best she’s ever felt in her life. Numb, blitzed out of her mind, somewhere closer to nineteen sheets to the wind than three, she’s no longer a Luthor, no longer a simpering fool to a Super’s lies, not a CEO or a disappointment or even a person. She’s just a presence existing on this curb, eating a bratwurst.

“I’m having an out of body experience,” she tells Andrea with half her mouth full and still swallowing.

“That good, huh?” Andrea has mustard on her chin.

“I want another.”

Lena glances up, and her visions tunnels. Her existence is whittled down even further, to its basest instinct. She’s become the singular pursuit of a thousand more calories, of another bratwurst. Lena surges into the street, the stand a beacon of light in the darkness.

But several things happen at once. There’s a screech of tires, the smash of metal, what feels like getting hit with a brick wall and then being shot out of a circus canon.

Lena finds herself throwing up on the pavement on the other side of the road, and Kara fucking Danvers yelling at a motorist. The guy has gotten out of his car, hood dented and engine smoking.

“You smashed my car!”

“You almost hit a woman! You could’ve killed her!”

“She just bolted into the street, that’s not my fault!”

“PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY!” Kara shouts back.

“Hey!” Lena slurs, having regained her dignity by wiping her mouth clean of vomit. It’s called class.

Both the guy and Kara turn to look at her, but her eyes are trained on Kara.

“I don’t need your help,” she tells her with a point of her finger.

This feels very witty. The pinnacle of sass. So what if she’s lost a heel at some point and may have missed a bit of vomit in her hair. She’s the one in control.

The guy’s eyes narrow.

“Are you blind or something? Didn’t your mom teach you to look both ways before you walk into the street?”

At the mention of Lena’s mother, her eyes narrow, she sways dangerously.

“You’re fired.”

“What?” the guy rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time for this.” He whips out his cell phone. “You’ve got insurance right?”

“Um, yeah,” Kara hands him a card, but she’s quick to come to Lena’s side, to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. Lena tries to wiggle away from it like a petulant child.

“Stop it!”

Kara ignores her.

“Lena, I didn’t want to say it around him,” Kara cups a blocking hand over her mouth and points at the guy so he can’t see.

It’s so adorable and infuriating.

She stage whispers, “But you were jaywalking! And you could’ve been hit by a car. What’re you even doing out here?”

Lena rolls her eyes so hard, she might’ve just incurred permanent damage.

“I’m an adult, Supergirl, and I don’t need an escort--”

Lena’s very mature tirade is interrupted by Andrea crossing the street, mouth still wide open and staring. The look she’s giving Kara is distinctly not platonic, and the look she’s giving Lena is one of deepest intrigue. Her eyes scan the pair of them, their body language, the way Kara’s hand is still on Lena’s shoulder (hadn’t she shaken that off?), and smirks.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Lena could kill her.

“Be quiet, Drea!”

Andrea dissolves into snorts, and Kara glances between the two of them, a look of recognition passing over her face. Now Lena wants to hurl herself into traffic for real.

Kara opens her mouth to speak, but Lena waves a hand in front of her nose.

“Just--everyone shut up and take me home.”

And the route Lena wants to be taken home is clear when she swats at Kara’s (firm) bicep (to push her away, of course), and that swat accidentally turns into a posessive squeeze.

“Oh, can I come, too?” Andrea purrs, and Kara’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“No!” Lena barks at her.

“Fine, fine! Call me tomorrow!” Andrea waves, and like some sort of rich superpower, she’s already getting into the back of a sleek black car.

“Okay, Lena,” Kara hushes against her head. It’s too soft and caring, and Lena wants to push her away. But she doesn’t. (Mainly because standing is feeling like quite a complex task, and she doesn’t have the balance for it.)

“This’ll only take a second.” 

Then, Lena’s wrapped in a warm and solid embrace. It’s nice... before everything blurs, and she has the distinct desire to vomit again.

She never wants another bratwurst.

In the very next moment, she’s being gingerly placed on her balcony, and Lena’s surging out of Kara’s grasp and pressing her face against the cold glass of her balcony sliding door. It feels amazing, calming her stomach down by degrees.

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh,” Lena says. Maybe she’d been doing that for a bit too long.

She runs her hands over the glass in an attempt to open the door, heavily petting various keypads and biometric scanners. Nothing happens. She scratches at the glass like a raccoon desperate to be inside.

“Um, isn’t it over there?” Kara indicates a different keypad to the left.

“I don’t need your help!” Lena shouts before following her instructions exactly. The door opens. She grumbles inside.

Unaware and uncaring, Lena starts undressing in her living room the very moment she’s crossed the threshhold, discarding her shirt, her skirt this way and that. There’s a gasp behind her and another suspicious super speeding sound, but she ignores Kara. She paces into her bedroom to strip off her bra and grab an oversized shirt. After, she spread eagles on her bed.

“I, um, brought you a glass of water.”

Lena cracks an eye open, takes in the sight of Kara standing at her bedside, nervous and uncertain, glass of water extended between them like some sort of peace offering.

She groans loudly and sits up to snatch it from her, water sloshing onto her bare legs. She doesn’t register it, draining it dry, glaring at Kara over the edge of the glass the entire time.

The Super pulls at her fingers.

“What’re you doing here?” Lena rasps, rolling the empty glass onto her exquisite and overpriced comforter.

“You were in trouble, Lena.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do.”

Lena scoffs, completely undignified, a sound appropriate for an elementary school playground. She does it again because it feels good. Kara’s eyebrows pinch.

Lena swivels at the waist and plucks her reading glasses off her bedside table. She places them over one of her giant, California King-sized pillows.

“Oh, Kara, there you are!” she says, squeezing it’s sides together like she’s cupping its cheeks. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you in a pair of glasses!”

Kara’s brows furrow deeper, not amused.

“How did I not see that the kindness, the sincerity, the insistence that I was not just another Luthor was a total act!” she continues to talk to it.

“It wasn’t an act--”

Lena brings the pillow close in her arms.

“Stopping by to bring me lunch, complimentary puff pieces, spin class, game nights. You’re so sweeeeeet,” she elongates, squeezing the pillow tight. “And beautiful. You know what you deserve? A kiss.”

Surely, this bit has spiraled out of Lena’s control. This entire night has. And were she sober enough to realize it, she’d catch herself before this next part. But she’s not and she’s wasted. And this pillow is the Kara she used to know, the Kara Lena used to pine for unconditionally, fantasizing what it might be like to just, lean over and...

She loses her balance as she places a wet one just under the glasses of her pillowcase and falls over on top of it. Incidentally, it’s the perfect size for snuggling, just like Kara herself, and her eyes flutter closed, warm and content.

“I’ll--I’ll go,” she hears a voice say.

“Kara?” Lena mumbles, face down in her pillow and not long for this world.

“Yeah?”

“I lo--I mean, I hate you.”

Kara sighs.

“I love you too, Lena.”

[holden-caulfield]

For a Draco x reader, I don’t know if this plot is good or not. But it is just an idea that I have and if you feel like writing it I would be very happy because I really do like your work. So maybe something like Draco and reader started to slowly become friends and then hang out more and more. Draco feels happy with her and fall for her. He writes a letter to his mother telling all about a girl he met and how happy she makes him. Then Narcissa writes a letter to the reader and thanking her for making her son happy and she really hope to meet her soon. Reader is just confused and then go and look for Draco. He later then just confess his feeling for her and she feels the same. Would love to if you also wrote when the reader actually met Draco’s family and they all liked her a lot.

I'm honored to know you like my work, thank you sweetheart! Hope you'll like this one too!! I'm not sure this is what you wanted but i liked the concept of the flashbacks so i went with that :)

Perfect For Each Other

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: reader is about to meet draco's parents while recalling how she ended up there in the first place.

WARNINGS: i'm pretty sure there's none, flashbacks are in cursive. also, i'm actually quite proud of this one?? yeah.

WORD COUNT: 1378

//

How it all started. You would have never expected it honestly, to find yourself in front of Malfoy Manor, wearing your best dress to make a good impression, waiting to finally meet the mysterious parents of your boyfriend.

Draco had talked about them countless times, but you hadn't met them yet. Perhaps it was the lack of time, perhaps it was the fear that made you decline invite after invite, but Draco wanted you to be sure and waited. For you.

He always did, he always waited for you. That's one of the things you loved about him.

He always waited for you after class, when everyone else had already run towards the great hall to eat. He stood near the entrance, lazily leaning on the wall outside with his bag hanging over his shoulder. A small grin always spreading on his face whenever you would join him to go to lunch together.

He hadn't always been like this however, it took sometime, but oh boy was it worth it. He slowly opened up to you until you knew more about him than himself. You started hanging out together after class and during, which wasn't very appreciated by all the professors who constantly reprimanded the both of you.

But you couldn't care less, not when you loved him so much. Love, how weird. Were you really in love with your friend? Or was it just friendship, a really strong and fierce friendship?

You knocked on the door of the great mansion, Draco beside you hugging your side gently, squeezing lightly to relieve your nerves. You appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't enough sadly.

The door revealed a beautiful woman, her eyes matching Draco's perfectly, displaying a certain affection you would have never expected from a stranger.

Draco wasn't known to be very open with anyone; he only spoke with you, but only when he deemed it utterly necessary. Only with you and that made you feel special, or so you thought.

You slackly woke up and took your sweet time getting ready, it was saturday after all and that meant only one thing: relax.

You descended the stairs to the common room, finding it unsurprisingly empty. Even if you slept in, you were one of the first to wake up. You made your way to the great hall and made yourself comfortable at your usual seat.

The morning post arrived and, even though you hadn't expected anything, you saw a big elegant owl approaching you with a white envelope in its beak.

You took it carefully and let the owl take some of your breakfast from your plate before taking off again. As you opened it, you noticed the refined lining and the faint smell of vanilla it emanated.

Dear y/n,

my dear Draco has told me a lot about you, my name is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. I'm so glad to know there is someone there so close to him, that can guide him and be there whenever he needs.

I want to formerly thank you and wish you two the best, hopefully Draco won't annoy you too much. I know how he can be at times, but from what i've heard, i know you two will be perfect for each other.

Please take care and take care of him for me,

Narcissa Malfoy

You read the tiny sophisticated handwriting with an ever-growing smile on your lips, until a thought dawned on you: 'perfect for each other'.

What did she mean by that? What had Draco told her that he hadn't told you? Too many thoughts were running freely in your head to notice the hall slowly filling up.

"Hey, good morning. What do you have there?" a voice suddenly brought you out of your trance and, almost instinctively, you folded the letter in your hands.

"Nothing, just mail." you said innocently. You weren't sure whether you should have told him or not. If he really did feel something for you other than friendly affection, he should have told you. When he was ready.

Maybe you had just misinterpreted it, or maybe Narcissa did, nevertheless you wouldn't certainly have told him anything about it.

He eyed the letter, unconvinced, but sat down next to you nevertheless. As he did that, you immediately sprang up, startling him and everyone else at the table.

"I'd better go, many things to do!" you excused yourself and walked, rather quickly, out of the hall, trying to block out all of the confused gazes on you.

Your feet kept a steady pace as you reached the grounds, looking for a silent spot where to really think about the letter you had just received.

You re-read the letter, your eyes always freezing on the same spot: 'perfect for each other'. You started pacing back and forth until you got interrupted, once more.

"Has something happened, y/n?"

Narcissa greeted you cheerily, a polite smile imprinted on her face as she hugged Draco and then you, with such warmth you felt instantly at home.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. Last time I had heard of you was so long ago, although Draco still tells me everything about you." Draco smiled bashfully as Narcissa led the two of you in the living room, "Maybe i should have just written you, but after last time, I wasn't sure..."

You shook your head quickly as you gazed into his grey eyes, worry etched into them.

"What is that?" Draco pointed to the letter again and you hid it behind your back, keeping your eyes on him. "You can tell me, y/n, you know you can."

You weighed your choices and decided it was better to tell him the truth, whatever the consequences.

"It's... it's your mother, she has sent me a letter..." Draco's usually light eyes darkened as something you couldn't quite place took over in his face.

"What did she say? Did she threaten you? That doesn't sound like mother but-"

"What?! No! No, nothing of that sort!" you quickly reassured him, "It's... she said you told her about... me."

Draco relaxed immediately only to tense up again a second after.

"And what did she say?"

"I need to ask you something, Draco." Draco gulped but didn't stop looking at you, nodding for you to go on, "What are we?"

Draco furrowed his brows at the question, letting a small nervous chuckle escape his lips, "Friends, aren't we?"

"And what would you like us to be?"

He stiffened even more, not sure what his answer should have been, truthful and potentially fatal or a lie.

"I think- I know I love you, y/n. Possibly more than a friend." you tried to stifle a smile but it was impossible and ran into his arms, startling him for the second time that day.

He hugged you back almost instantly, happiness flooding his senses at your unexpected reaction.

"Thank merlin, because i think i do too, you know?"

That was the start of it all, everything thanks to Narcissa, the woman you were now following through the huge halls of the manor.

You now knew Draco loved you, but meeting his parents, knowing they could have disapproved, still made your heart beat faster than usual and your hands clench around Draco's.

You reached an enormous room, with an expensive-looking couch in the middle and a few armchairs surrounding it. One of them was occupied by a blond man, uncannily similar to the man whose hand you were currently holding onto for dear life.

"Good morning, you must be y/n." he greeted, standing up from the chair and taking a few steps forward, extending the hand that wasn't holding his cane.

"Good morning, it's a pleasure meeting you mr Malfoy!" you shook his hand, trying to hide your excitement and, most of all, your fear.

"Draco told us about you, i must say you are quite different from how he pictured you." Draco squeezed your hand and you felt slightly better despite the horrible first impression you had just made with his father, "You are certainly prettier than what he told us."

You giggled lightly as Narcissa offered to take the conversation to the dining room. Draco hugged your shoulders while making your way towards the table and one of the nicest evening you ever had.

Narcissa was indeed right, you were perfect for each other.

//

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 2 - Loki x Reader

Summary: To preserve his secret, Odin sacrifices you and his grandson.

Warnings: Angst, basically everyone treats you like shit

Words: ~2200

A/N: Thanks for everyone who commented on the previous chapter, it really means much! I hope to not disappoint as I continue the story...

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write​ @damalseer​

“What if I turn out to be a horrible father?”

You remember it as if it was yesterday that you announced the pregnancy to Loki, who at first was deliriously happy. He showered you with praise and love, celebrating this occasion as the peak of your marriage - the relationship both of you had put so much passion into.

It was only a matter of time until the prince would do as he always did, destroying his own happiness through overthinking. So soon, his mood shifted from thrilled anticipation to worry preying on his mind.

Yet considerate as he was, Loki didn’t want to stain your happiness through his self-consciousness, for weeks keeping up the play until he ultimately collapsed at the pressure he was putting himself under.

“All my life, I haven’t been worthy of anything...” he exclaimed, making wild gestures as he paced around in your room. “My fathers love, the warriors respect, the admiration of the folk...everything I claim to be I fail!”

“Loki, you-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Y/N!” he sharply cut you off just to feel bad for raising his voice at you. “S-Sorry, it’s just...I’m...I’m unfit to bear such responsibility.”

“My love” you cooed sympathetic, already welcoming him with open arms. “Come here.”

Immediately he rushed to your side, quiet whines turning into frantic sobs as your embrace broke down the last of his defenses.

With his head resting in your lap, you busied yourself untangling his locks before daring to speak from the heart.

“I know your upbringing made you believe you were undeserving of luck...but that simply isn’t true, my prince.” Your voice was like silk to him, calming and yet so incredibly impactful. “A witty, sensitive man being forced to live among such dull brutes...”

Yes, Odin had always been rather distanced. Cold, some might even say. Especially when it came to his second born Loki, you always had a feeling that something was plaqueing his mind, keeping the kind from treating his son properly.

Luckily, he at least had his mother Frigga - a formidable sorceress, calm and benevolent, and over time a great friend of yours. She had a major impact on Loki’s childhood, raising him into the man that was now before you. Her influence on his behavior was almost everything good he could see in himself, and you were thankful for her always believing in him.

However, though even she seemed to have her secret burdens to carry - well, who doesn’t?

Stopping yourself from insulting Asgards’ warrior culture any further, you continued your speech elsewhere.

“Just because you’re no part of this world doesn’t mean you belong nowhere! It pains me that you always only see what you lack, my love. You are blind to your worth, and unaware of your qualities. My prince, you are strong, wise and the kindest man in the nine realms! I love you, Loki Odinson, more than anything ever before!”

Your husband looked up to you, eyes incredibly vulnerable - yet also full of pure, unconditional love.

“I’ve found my tribe already, Y/N. A place I call home.” Loki placed his hand on your heart before wandering down to your belly, where your child was growing to bless this world. “It’s right here, with you! And I desire nothing else. No throne, no wealth could provide what you gave me!”

His lips moved against yours, unwilling to ever part again. Tonight, he shall proof his determination. Where his father went wrong, he will learn from those mistakes and make a difference.

Until the end of time, he will protect and provide for you and this child - his newfound, glorious purpose.

“Thank you for this precious gift of life, Y/N...”

_______

Your eyes snapped open when the memory of those carefree days ended, the brutal push of a guard bringing you back to your terrifying reality again.

"No harm shall ever come to this child!”

Your subconsciousness was screaming at you, a tunnel view focused your mind on that one desire. “I need to protect him!”

It didn’t matter what would happen to yourself. As long as your son would be assured of a safe and happy life, you’d be fine with becoming the scapegoat of whatever mess your family had been dragged into.

Even though you were already in chains, roughly dragged through the hallway, you couldn’t help but hope that Loki would eventually come to clear things up and safe you.

“Shh...” The child was sleeping soundly, wrapped in a fabric around your body. “Everything will be alright. Your father loves you, he just doesn’t know it yet.

The throne room immediately fell silent upon your arrival, two guards harshly forcing you to kneel in front of the Allfather.

People from all across the kingdom had gathered to witness this phenomenally trial, booing and yelling curses towards you and your innocent newborn - with some even throwing stones or rubble at you.

How dare they threatening your child?! Just one look of yours was enough to silence them in fear, even though you could grasp a fraction of a conversation questioning your sanity.

“Why...?” Tears were prickling in your eyes once again, curled up on the floor and desperately trying to shield him, still unable to fully grasp the situation. “We haven’t done anything! He’s just a child!”

Everyone was staring you down with nothing but hatred and disgust staining their glares - people that always before admired their beloved princess.

And among them, there he was: Your husband.

It was impossible to guess just what he was feeling, let alone thinking now that he saw you shivering beneath him - his beloved wife humiliated in front all of Asgard.

“How do you plead?” The Allfather’s voice was calm on the outside, but you could clearly decipher the storm hiding beneath.

“I-I don’t know-” Several times you attempted to explain yourself, yet your voice broke down as you tried to not break out into convulsive sobbing. “I don’t know how this is possible, yet...”

Hesistantly, you presented his beautiful face to the audience, now that he had completely adapted to the Asgardian outerior. You’ve heared some of them gasp or whisper in between spiteful laughs, accusing you of foul magic to save your own skin.

However, when Frigga laid eyes upon her grandchild, she was unable to contain herself any longer. No matter how much she pleaded for her husband’s mercy, to just end the circle of lies and reveal Loki’s true heritage, the Allfather’s decision was ultimate.

The Allmother weeped painfully, knowing the unjust fate that was already written. Without letting the witnesses peek underneath her facade for too long, she fled this trial and disappeared into her chambers.

What was the meaning of this?!

“Odin, my dear inlaw...I beg of you to believe me!” you stammered, pleading on his humanity as your shaky hands still showed him this pure, little creature. “I vow upon my own life: This child bears Loki’s blood!”

“Bring the cascet” the visibly strained king demanded, and one of the guards did as he was told.

“Wha- don’t!” you hissed as they got closer, but another soldier was gripping your wrists, bringing them away from your baby. “What is this?! What are you doing to my child?! NO!”

Right now several people were needed to contain you, cheek pressed against the floor while Loki was unable to watch any more, his heart’s strings tearing at the sight. He turned around, covering his own mouth to contain his strangled sobs as tears began to run freely.

No matter the pain you unleashed on him: Loki Odinson loved you more than reason allowed him to, and it dreaded him that he couldn’t change that fact.

Another one of Odin’s soldiers picked up your child and held it in range of the cascet’s influence.

The hall was drowning in noise when your son revealed his true form, screams and insults echoing through the whole palace.

“Loki!” you begged yet again to no avail, “You are his father! How can you let them do this to him?! Help us!”

Your husband’s look was stern, cold and lifeless - as if your betrayal had drained him of any hope he had left inside of him.

All of his life, he desperately tried to belong, be loved and appreciated - and starting his own family was his first and final hope of achieving this.

Of course, he told himself. This was just fitting for his joke of a life. Happiness is a foreign concept for him, and he will only ever grasp a brief fraction of it before it will be taken away from him again.

“Y/N...you are dead to me.”

And just like that, your husband had disappeared, unable to take any more.

The love of your life had ultimatively abandoned you and his own son, choosing to not trust you - and leaving you alone in midst of those people despising you, and wishing for your death.

“Monster!” “Horrifying!” “Traitor!” “We should execute them both!”

All those words were hammering against your head, shattering your heart into pieces. “Please!” you screamed from the top of your lungs. “Do whatever you want with me, just spare my child!”

“Very well” Odin spoke without any remorse, “You should be grateful: My son has pleaded for your lifes to be spared, even though death is all you deserve for commiting such an atrocity.”

Your eyes widened at his words, for a second completely forgetting about all those horrible things your husband told earlier: Loki actually spoke up to his father, just to assure your safety?!

There was still hope for him to see the light, you just couldn’t give up!

Yet when he pronounced the sentence, your blood ran cold none the less:

"I, Odin, speaking for all of Asgard, find you guilty of high treason against our glorious kingdom. Since you are beyond forgiveness, you are no longer a citizen of Asgard. Hereby, I cast you out, to serve your sentence on Jotunheim, among your equals!”

“N-No, you can’t, I-I p-please-”

This was even worse than the mercy of a quick death, and they knew it!

Why not Midgard, among those mortals? The Allfather knew very well that this place of cold and darkness was a deadly environment to anyone - and if the Jötunns would find an Asgardian roaming around in their territority, a painful death at their hands was certain.

“Enough!”

Only this one word fell from Odin’s lips, his sceptre crashing on the ground with keen force, magically breaking the floor beneath you. You tried to struggle, scream, anything - yet his power was too overwhelming, silencing all of your struggles as the portal sucked you in.

“Hereby, I, the Allfather, cast you out!”

_______

Cold. So damn cold. And dark. You couldn’t see a single thing in midst of a heavy snowstorm.

There you were, in the middle of nowhere. On Jotunheim, with that little Asgardian clothing.

Your body was using all of it’s might to keep your body temperature up, but you knew if you didn’t find shelter soon, you will freeze to death.

Nonetheless: A mother’s resolve was nothing to mess with!

And so you continued your travel through this unknown land, the love for this child being your only motivator. No pain, no heartbreak could stop energy from lighting your veins on fire.

A weight fell from your heart when you saw your son being completely unaffected by the cold, having turned blue once again. The muscles of your mouth already hurt from the cold, as a pained smile spread across your cheeks knowing at least he will be fine.

“Shh..” Hushing the little one, you tried your very best to keep it together, no matter how broken and pained you really were.

You only need to find someone to care for him, that’s all that matters.

Yet here, all you would be able to find were monsters, having the reputation of being remorseless killing machines.

All those tales about Jötunns, their primal brutaility and lack of empathy, were they true, or just exaggerations as means of war propaganda? For millenias, you never wasted a thought on that topic, but now a completely different light shined upon Asgard and their history of how they gained power over all the realms.

Maybe Odin was the bad guy after all...

“You are dead to me.” Those words would leave scars that will forever be engraved in your heart.Tears now ran down your cheeks, freezing almost immediately before they fell into the snow.

Your lips and fingertips had already turned blue, eyelashes covered in ice. Crazy to think that just a short time before, you were still in labor, and now burdening your body again just like that.

How many time had passed since you were banished? Must be at least several hours. Without a sun ever rising, one was quick to become disoriented.

And there was still no village or cave in sight.

“I can’t give up yet...” Anyway, you were too weak to even form a proper sentence, exhausted body collapsing into the snow without your control. In one last, desperate attempt, you curled up around your child, wanting to protect him with your body even after you’d decease.

“Pathetic...”

This foreign voice made the adrenaline in your system allow your eyes to squint open again, if only for a mere second. And there he was, you knew from the ceiling painting in the palace: Laufey, king of the Frost Giants.

And then, everything went black.