#his babies. and then even another part that. not hates or resents but. he looks at them and thinks. did i choose this? i love you. i dont

[quietwingsinthesky]

okay like the thing is. if i was going to write actual real marie fic with plot and consequences and everything. even in the hypothetical fic with lucifer being released from his rewritten character back to factory settings (s5) he’s still like. he’s not a good person. it’s important to me that if this was a real fic and not just me shitposting, that lucifer does not magically become a good person this way. or a good parent. in fact, he’s probably worse because he now has empirical evidence to back up that God will, when convenient, erase who he is, make him worse, make it so that there’s never any choice but for him to get worse. And who’s to say it isn’t still happening. who’s to say lucifer is “back to normal” because nephilim baby interference and not because God thought it would be more interesting to see him spiral down from a higher place rather than fall over already at rock bottom.

[roosterforme]

I Love Being 'Us' With You (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist.

Warnings: language, angst, pregnancy topics, mention of miscarriage, Carole and Goose coming to the rescue

It had been months since you used birth control. Originally you planned to stop taking the pill when you embarked on your honeymoon, but the two of you agreed to stop filling your prescription before that. For more than a week when you were in Hawaii, you and Bradley had sex at least three times a day. He was like a man on a mission. Well, several missions. He wanted to keep you satisfied, but you could also tell he wanted to get you pregnant sooner rather than later. He wanted to have a kid before he turned forty.

The first time you ever mentioned wanting to have kids, he took you home and kept you in bed for hours. And that was before you and he were actively trying. Since last fall, he had been meticulous. He knew your cycles, and he was seemingly always ready to go when you were ovulating. But it had been months, and while he was outwardly as relaxed as always, you could tell that he was starting to get concerned. You were, too.

At first, it was easy to go with the flow. "It just takes time," Bradley told you, and you agreed. You continued to keep track of your cycle. You tried to be hopeful. You had a partner. You weren't doing this alone.

But you really were.

Because as much as you knew your husband was there for you, it was your body that wasn't working correctly. It was you, not him, who was messing everything up. Every time your period started, you had to cry alone before you could regroup and let him know that another month of trying had ended unsuccessfully. With every negative pregnancy test, you felt a little bit more of your optimism crumble into something much uglier.

You were at the point where you hated your body after so many months, and of course that's when Bradley's parents asked if it was okay to come stay for a long weekend for his birthday. When you got off the call with them, you started crying.

"I don't understand why you're being weird about this," Bradley sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "It's just for three nights. They've stayed with us before. Hell, I don't make a big deal out of it when your parents come out."

You shouldn't have to explain yourself to him. You didn't even know how to anyway. "I'm not being weird! I just don't want to have to talk to them about our plans to have a baby."

"Sweetheart. They don't even know we're trying."

Maybe that was true, but it was the only thing you could think about. So you excused yourself to go cry in bed with the door closed. You could feel the cramps starting. You knew you were just days away from getting your period. You knew the tears weren't going to stop. Another month was down the drain, and you were starting to resent when Bradley would initiate sex. You didn't even want him to look at you. And now when his parents came to stay at the craftsman for his birthday, you would be ovulating once again. It would be another month of disappointment where you felt like you were on display for your in-laws to witness it this time.

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

You were distancing yourself from him, and Bradley didn't know what to do. It had gotten so much worse in the last few weeks since his parents asked to come stay for a few days. You stopped driving to work with Bradley. You started working late. You started to schedule sex with him to the point that he was surprised he wasn't receiving calendar invitations. He wanted to have a baby, sure, but he wanted you to be happy above all else. As soon as his parents left to go back to Virginia, you and he really needed to figure this out.

"Are you listening to me?"

Bradley's attention snapped back to his dad who was standing right in front of him, holding a nine iron with an annoyed look on his face. He let his mind wander so far away from the golf course, he didn't even realize it was his turn.

"Sorry," he grunted, digging in his golf bag. "Just got distracted."

"I was telling you that I'm finally taking your mom on a cruise. It leaves the day after her birthday," Goose told him.

"Right," Bradley replied. "Got it. She'll love that."

After Bradley hit his ball a little too aggressively, his dad carefully lowered the club and said, "Now why don't you tell me why you look constipated, and why your wife cried when mom told her that Brenda is going to have another grandson."

Bradley shoved the club back into his bag, and as much as he told himself he didn't want to talk about it, the words just started flowing. "We've been trying to get pregnant since last fall, and it's just a fucking mess now. Sometimes she doesn't want me to touch her. Other times it's like she thinks we need to have sex right then and there. Honestly, I don't know how to fix this, but having a kid isn't worth it if she's not happy with me."

"Have you told her that?"

Bradley stared at his dad, letting the words penetrate his brain. "Well, no."

"Have you put pressure on her?"

Now he felt like the one who was going to burst into tears. Truly, he never meant to, but he probably had. Talking about wanting a kid before he gets too much older. Mentioning how they would have to start saving for money for college. "Shit."

Goose pulled him in for a hug, and he let the soothing feel of his dad's hand on his back calm him down. "Bradley, women are smarter than us. They pick up on everything. If you want to fix it, then you need to be as honest with her as you can be. Because I don't think you want to destroy your marriage like this."

"I sure don't," Bradley said, his voice muffled against his dad's shoulder.

"We've still for fourteen holes and plenty of time. Let's hop in the golf cart, and I'll tell you all about some of the ways I fucked up with your mom and how I managed to fix it afterwards."

Bradley couldn't help but laugh. "At least she keeps you honest."

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

You were mortified. Your hormones were a mess as you were almost definitely ovulating. You wanted to have sex with Bradley this morning before he left to play golf, but you didn't even know how to tell him that you just wanted him and not the potential to get pregnant. And now you were out to brunch with his mom as tears filled your eyes, because the couple at the next table over was younger than you and Bradley, and they were taking turns holding the most adorable baby you'd ever seen.

When you tried to excuse yourself from the table, you felt Carole's hand on your wrist. "Sweet Girl," she whispered. "Let's talk about it."

You nodded and slid back into your seat as you choked back the tears. "We're trying to get pregnant, and it's just not happening. Was it that obvious?" you asked, knowing you'd been a mess all weekend.

"Of course not," Carole told you in her calm voice that you loved so much. "I just know this type of situation very well is all."

"You do?" you asked, dabbing at your eyes with your napkin. "But you had Bradley."

"Sure," she told you, still rubbing your wrist with her warm fingers. In a lot of ways, it was always easier to talk to her than your own mom, and you were thankful that you didn't have to act like nothing was bothering you right now. "Sure, I had Bradley, but ol' Goose and I wanted a baseball team worth of kids. A whole boatload of snot nosed little critters running around."

You laughed in spite of yourself. "What happened?"

"Well," Carole said with a smirk, "Bradley wasn't exactly planned, as I'm sure you well know. He was born in June after we got married in November. I wasn't showing yet in the wedding photos, but Goose and I both knew he was there." She smiled softly as she added, "I loved being a mom to him. He was the sweetest baby in the world, and I wanted a bunch more. But you can only handle the devastation of repeated miscarriages for so long before you throw in the towel, because you realize it's not worth your sanity. It's not worth it when you already have so much. Goose and I had some long, hard conversations, but we realized we were both already on the same page."

The tears were back, and this time you could feel them rolling down your cheeks. You hated that she didn't get to have what she wanted, but she was looking at you with kind eyes as you said, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize to me," she said with a soft laugh. "I got to raise Bradley, and then I got to pass him along to you." When you nodded and smiled in spite of yourself, she added, "And I just know that he's more than enough for you, and that you are more than he ever dreamed of. Just promise me you'll have those hard conversations with him. Maybe you'll find that you and Bradley are already in agreement about your future."

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

Bradley was thoroughly unamused when his Bronco wouldn't start on his birthday. "I think it's just the timing belt," his father said as they tinkered under the hood after dinner. "Order a new part and see if that does the trick. In the meantime, you'll just have to drive us to the airport in the other car."

"Sure," Bradley replied sarcastically as he grinned at you. "No problem, Dad. We'll just all cram into the red car like a pack of clowns."

"It's not that bad!" you said as he pulled you in for a hug. You already felt better after spending twenty minutes last night promising each other you'd spend even more time talking after you dropped his parents off for their red eye flight back east.

"It's so bad, Baby Girl," your husband whispered into your hair. "I don't know if their suitcase will even fit in the trunk."

"Stop being dramatic, Roo." 

Of course the suitcase fit. And all four of you fit, too. You let Bradley drive so he wouldn't complain about the leg room. He parked in the garage at the airport, and you and he walked Carole and Goose inside the departures door, taking turns embracing them before they dropped off their bag and headed through the security gate.

"Listen," Bradley said, reaching for your hand and giving you a kiss. "I know we said we'd talk when we get back home, but I need to apologize to you." His brown eyes were sincere and a little sad as he led you back outside and said, "There's nothing I want more than you and me together. Safe and happy. That's it. If we don't have a kid, it's not the end of the world, and it's certainly not the end of us."

You smiled up at him. "I agree. I don't want to think about it like a chore any longer. If it happens, then that's amazing. If not, well we can always regroup and talk about other ways of becoming parents. Or we can just be us."

"That's music to my fucking ears," he crooned, pulling you in close against his body. "I love being us with you."

Before you could assure him that you felt the same way, his lips were on yours, hard and heavy, taking your breath away. The scrape of his mustache and the way his hand kept sliding lower on your back until he was palmig your butt reminded you how badly you wanted him, just because he was your Bradley. You moaned into his mouth.

When you broke the kiss and looked up at him, a cocky little grin bloomed across his lips. "I have an idea, Sweetheart. Call it an extra birthday gift."

"What is it?" you gasped, already trying to consider how much you and he could get away with in the nearly deserted parking garage. But he was a step ahead of you.

Bradley unlocked your car, handed you the keys, and unbuckled his belt. He eased himself carefully onto the backseat, rubbed his thigh and braced his big foot against the center console. "Come here," he coaxed, and you climbed right in.

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

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

more than you'll ever know

tags/ warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || angst || slightly better communication (yippee) || slight comfort || the start of sex fiend jungkook

word count: 1.1k

notes: no taglist !!!!!!!

☆ collaboration with @bonny-kookoo 💞 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

There’s beat of silence, seconds pulling out into what feels like minutes. The words repeat throughout your mind, sticky resentment clawing up your throat. His phone screen goes black, pitiful reflection of yourself staring back at you.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, pinch of an ache dispersing from between your eyes as you force down a wave of tears. Because what is worse than unfiltered sadness in moments like these, will always unfortunately be hard-headed pride.

Something a little duller aching in your chest, denial veiling your heart as you finally work up the courage to look at him.

His eyes are still wide, mouth open a little with shock, unsure to what you had seen, what he should say.

“Fuck you” you cry, throwing his phone at him, pain ebbing across the expanse of his chest as it hits him square over where his heart resides.

Before the words can even leave his mouth, you’ve scooted off the bed, scuttling into the bathroom. The door slams, click of the lock echoing in Jungkook’s ears.

He turns towards the bathroom door, glancing down at his phone. His tongue presses into his cheek when he sees part of the message, running a hand over his face.

He hears the door to the shower click shut, silence following in the moments after. His feet dig a little deeper into the carpet as he waits, listening if you were going to turn the water on, or if this was a false defence mechanism. More physical walls between the both of you as you slowly craft the more brittle ones of your mind. The tether that was holding the both of you together slowly fraying it seems. Days of watching you, eyebrows constantly marred, pretty face downturned, every thought locked inside the dark corners of your mind.

“Y/n?” he knocks on the door, “Open up”

He hears a hiccup of a sob when he presses his ear to the wood.

“Baby, you’re worrying me, let’s talk” he urges, “Come on”

You pull your knees up to your chest, hands pressing over your cheeks to dry them a little as you swallow down another sob.

“Go away” you shout, “I hate you”

You watch as he pushes at the door handle, another quickfire of knocks vibrating at the door. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if he’s able to knock the door down with raw strength alone, if this was a sliver of respect, he held for you not ramming into it until he was stood before you.

“My love, as much as I’m sure a tantrum is wanted, we need to talk about whatever is happening” he tells you, tugging at the door until the hinges rattle a little.

“I don’t talk to cheaters!” you cry, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

Jungkook pauses, cogs of his mind slowly whirring to life as his hand pauses, millimetres away from the door.

“Cheater?” he calls out, “Who’s cheating?”

Your feet pad against the tiled floor, lock clicking before you tug the door open. Jungkook’s lips tug down into a frown when he sees you, eyes red-rimmed, bleary with tears, cheeks shiny.

“I saw your phone Jungkook” you snivel, “If you didn’t wanna be with me anymore, why didn’t you say?”

Jungkook’s mouth tips open, utter disbelief wracking throughout his entire being.

“Woah hold on” he shakes his head, “First off, no one’s cheating”

“Your phone—” you start, blinking up at him when he gently presses his finger over your lips, “Don’t shush me” you push his hand away.

“But I need you to listen” he instead takes your hands, thumbs running over your knuckles.

“Maria, Jungkook. Who is she?”

“Oh!” he pauses, “She’s helping me with something”

You pull your hands away from him, stumbling back into the bathroom a little.

“What?” you deadpan, “Getting your dick wet?”

He splutters a little, “No! Why would you even think that?” he shakes his head frantically, “I don’t even know if people her age can get wet—” he stops when he catches your eyes, sheepish grin working its way onto his lips.

“That’s beside the point” his fists clench at his sides, unease still worming its way into his heart, “There has never been a point I haven’t wanted you. I don’t think you realise how much I love you, It’s scary sometimes”

The words catch in your throat, swallowed down when he opens his mouth again.

“Just, please trust me for a little longer. I know I’ve been busy; we haven’t spent much time together… I’ll make it up to you I just need a little bit longer.”

You press the palms of your hands into your eyes, alleviating some of the ache.

“I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight” you say, long drawn sigh easing some of the tension in your chest.

“Huh?” Jungkook’s eyes widen by a fraction, hands lifting to hold you, only to hover slightly.

“I’m sick of this constant push and pull” you murmur, “I’m tired, Jungkook”

He nods, swallowing as his eyes flit across your face.

“If that’s what you want…” he nods, “I’ll drive you there. Do you want to eat before you go?”

You glance up at him, “It’s fine, I’ll take the bus”

He shakes his head, “It’s getting late, I’d prefer if you let me take you. You don’t even need to talk to me on the way… you can choose what we listen to as well” he adds.

The both of you just stand there for a moment, a fraction of the weight on your shoulders lifted.

“Hey” he murmurs, “Come here”

You step towards him, an arms distance still between the both of you.

The faintest smile pulls onto his lips, “Closer”

“What if I don’t want to?” you say, fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Then you don’t have to” he shrugs, “You know you’re in charge of your own comfort. Just wanted a hug before you left, I’ve missed you”

You swallow, fingers itching to hold onto him. You take another step forward, arms slipping beneath his own. You press your face into his chest, bottom lip quivering as your forehead presses over his heart.

“You know I love you right?” he whispers, arms squeezing you that little bit tighter.

You shrug, eyes closing when he rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“More than you’ll ever know” he hums, “I’ll make you something to eat while you pack a bag, okay?”

And with that you’re alone, phantom kiss he left you with, lingering on your heated cheek.

[yandereunsolved]

You're My Cult Leader - ,, yandere Kai Anderson

tw(s): yandere themes, Kai fuckery, graphic gore, suggestive themes, Kai threatening to cross your boundaries, descriptive depictions of anxiety and panic attacks, self harm, (Kai) glorification of self harm, talks of mental hospitals & mental illness, demonization of medication & mental health (influenced by Kai), baby trapping

ꨄ︎ He found you by pure accident. He was scrolling through Reddit on r/AITA when he found your account. You were asking if breaking up with your partner after they had a mental breakdown and pushed you down the stairs made you a bad person or not. Interest sparked in his mind. If you were this insecure that you had to get validation from others when your ex was clearly in the wrong, you must be easy to manipulate. He wanted to see more of who and what you were, so he hacked your accounts. He didn't do anything more than scroll through him and store your information and passwords marked 'Serpent' on a file put on a hard drive he keeps of all his cult members. He keeps it just in case they try to betray him. They wouldn't dare go against him if they knew he had all of their skeletons locked in his closet. 

ꨄ︎ He marks all of his files with the names of mythical animals. All cult members go under one large file named 'Serpent'. In his inner circle, he has another file named 'Sphinx'. As he learns more about you, he compiles an entirely separate file just for you. He names it 'Phoenix'—an immortal bird that cyclically regenerates, obtaining new life by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. He even begins referring to himself as Phoenix when around his other members. Of course you don't know him; you two haven't even had a conversation yet, but you are already part of his cult. It was just a matter of putting a few more things in place to have the perfect meeting.

ꨄ︎ What he didn't expect was to actually begin to form an attraction to you when he had his little 'excursions' with you, stalking you wherever you went. He resents this. You aren't worth his time and attention. He is the divine ruler, a being of divinity. You are just another lamb to be slaughtered within the confines of his cult. Yet he notices how wide your hips are, how good your medical history is, and how motherly you are. He stores it away in his mind. You'd be a good possible womb to store his messiah baby in. He does need the best genetics. It doesn't matter if you are afab or amab; you are having his baby.

ꨄ︎ He introduces himself to you after you had a shitty day at work. He invites you out to your favorite cafe. Huh, how did he know? He knows everything about you. Including what you do in the privacy of your bedroom when you think no one is looking. He speaks to you like an old friend or a lover. You two really seem to have a genuine connection. He's a smart guy, 135 IQ; he toured in Iraq; and he graduated with a double degree. Not to mention, when he stood up and stretched, you could see his muscular physique underneath his gray sweatshirt and joggers. Now you want to know more about him, see him more, and get the validation you crave because you have been starved by others. Just as he planned.

ꨄ︎ It's so strange that after that, the people you hated most started disappearing. It was all over the news. People started seeing you as bad luck. Some people thought you were just a serial killer who hadn't been caught yet. Others thought it was because of some twisted secret admirer of yours. They would both have reasons to think that. The bodies came up in parts. Each on the bed in their bedroom. They were cut into chunks and placed to make little hearts. First, there was nothing else. Then the killer got bolder with the weird smiley face drawn in blood. Eventually, the killer or killers had another collective sign off: 'From F.I.T.— your divine ruler.'

Not even the police would touch you. No one would. Only Kai was there for you in those trying times. He drove you deeper into his grasp. Not suffocating at first just so you wouldn't see it until it's too late—like a boa constrictor constricting around its sleeping prey.

ꨄ︎ He offered you a place to stay and promised to protect you from the evils of the world. He makes you as scared of the outside as possible. Think of all the horrors out there. Can you not see the killings all over the news? Can you not realize that the country is being flooded with dangerous people? Are you so unaware that someone could slit your throat if you so much as stepped outside the door? Kai is there to stoke your fears, like feeding an ever-growing flame by placing more wood in the pile. He makes you so paranoid that you aren't even sure if being around him is safe. He assures you being around him is the only safe place. He subtly threatens to take his protection away if you disobey him.

ꨄ︎ You don't interact with Winter. You actually aren't allowed to. Kai expressly forbids it because he's afraid his sister might make you queer. Sure, you are allowed to look at her and maybe make small talk if she is around you and Kai, but she isn't allowed alone with you—ever. Kai just can't risk it. He knows how tempting women can be, and he can't let his precious little lamb be tempted by his sister.

ꨄ︎ He begins integrating you into F.I.T. even though you are unaware. You don't exactly know what it's called, but everyone seems to treat you kindly. Not too kindly, though; Kai doesn't want your affections to be given to one of his ungrateful, pathetic followers. This is really the first touch of human interaction you have had in months, other than Kai, of course. It's like a new breath of fresh air. You may refuse to leave the house and Kai's side, but at least you have more people to talk to. It's like torture when Kai leaves you all alone. No one else is allowed around you, not that you know that. You only know that they seem to distance themselves almost purposefully, even methodically. It's like Kai is ripping your very heart out of your chest and taking it with him when he leaves.

ꨄ︎ Sometimes it's even worse when his 'friends' are around. He acts all aloof and distant with you. He calls you slut, whore, little one, and worst of all—sweetheart. Whenever he calls you sweetheart, you know you have messed up around the others. During their meetings, you are forced to sit in his lap. Most of the time, he forces you to straddle his waist. If you speak or even squeak, he'll scold you in front of everyone. You always end up having hickeys on you the day after. You always have some sort of hickey or bruise on you. He'll occasionally kiss you on the neck during these meetings. At first, you were uncomfortable. You tried to confront him about it, and he brushed you off.

"You like it, don't lie. You like all of the attention on you. You are my little slut after all."

You wanted to argue, but he had a way of making you speechless, so flustered that you became light-headed. After that, you didn't argue much on the subject.

He doesn't actually allow you to listen, either. He makes you wear these stupid ear plugs that make you feel so idiotic. You only know he scolds you because that's when he takes the earplugs out. He calls these meetings his 'private business'. You don't press him on it because he's already done so much for you. Someone out there is stalking you. Kai is keeping you safe. It's the least you can do to stay out of business; he doesn't want you in.

ꨄ︎ If you are good during these meetings, he rewards you with an outing. You have to stay by him the entire time. That is one of the unspoken rules of being with him. However, that's not really a problem for either of you. That's pretty much the only time that you are outside. He doesn't outright say it's a 'date', but that's what it is to him. You may not know it, but you two are practically married in his eyes. He just has to train you some more. You need to be entirely dependent on him—submissive, feminine, and motherly. That's all he wants. He has given you so much. He just needs to take a little from you. It isn't that big of a deal.

ꨄ︎ You first witnessed Kai's true cruelty when he stapled that poor man to death. You pinkie promised him that you would stay by his side. You pinkie promised that you wouldn't run. So you stood there and watched, and everyone took turns stapling him in the head. The blood gently dribbled down his face, almost peaceful—in complete contrast with the monstrous act being committed. 

He made you kneel before him. He swiped a strip of the oozing blood off of the man's face. He stuck his finger in your mouth and made you lick it off. He asked if you were truly devoted to him as he planted the last staple in the back of the guy's neck. He asked again, his voice more alluring than any song a siren could sing.

"Are you completely and utterly devoted to me?"

You said yes. Why wouldn't you?

"Prove it."

He stood above you with the staple gun discarded on the floor. That night was a lot different than all the other times you 'proved' yourself to Kai. It was much more passionate and tender. You were unable to even move from your spot. It was like nothing else existed except you and Kai. It was addicting. You needed more of him, even more than before. 

It was like that night he had cast a spell on you that stripped away any personality or ideals you had from your previous life. He had broken every part of you. You were now repurposed clay. You were made into a brand new clump for him to mold with his skilled and nimble fingers. You will be his greatest creation yet, for you are completely and utterly his—forever.

ꨄ︎ However, while molding, he's careful not to be too harsh with you. In a way, it's the gentlest and most honest part of Kai you will ever see. You see the moments when he has flashbacks to those times. You get to see when his shoulders heave due to the overwhelming anxiety he feels. You see the few tears that slip from his face. Part of him feels that you have earned this part of him. Another part wants to push those feelings so deep down into the darkness of his soul that they never have a chance of getting out.

ꨄ︎ You'll only see it in subtle ways. At night, he won't force you to snuggle with him, but he'll urge you to. He'll wrap his arms around you and gently whisper about how he'll protect you from all the bad things in this world. It's true on some level. All of this is truly for you. He just can't show his love like a normal man. One thing is for sure—he promises to never be a man like his father. He shakes when he thinks about him, his muscles tightening and his breath shortening. It makes him want to hold you in his embrace forever. To kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever know. That small and hidden part of him craves your loving touch. That part just wants to be coddled and told he's a good boy. Just telling him you're proud of him is enough for him to drag you off to the bedroom.

ꨄ︎ He makes you pinkie promise. Naturally, you have to tell him everything first—your fears, your fantasies, and how much you love him. He finally speaks a bit of his past. It's the first time you see him breakdown. The first time he has a genuine emotional response. The mask slips only for a moment, but you're hesitant. You know, sometimes he manipulates you—maybe. That's what one of the others told you before they were killed. Still, it seems real, and it feels real. You can't imagine him telling anyone else such private things. He pulls you into a hug and rocks you back and forth. He sticks his face in the crook of your neck greedily. He treats you like you'll disappear with one blink of his eyes.

"You aren't ever allowed to leave me, darling."

He's gritting his teeth, and suddenly the Kai you know all too well is back. From time to time, you can't help but wonder: How much of old Kai influenced new Kai to be so helplessly entranced by your very presence?

ꨄ︎ No part of you is hidden from him. No part of your body is left unseen or explored. There is no part of your personality that he hasn't memorized. There isn't any memory that he hasn't plucked from your head already. If you remember anything, even the most mundane, you are under strict orders to allow the words to fall from your lips—no matter what you were doing before. There are no 'boundaries', in most cases. Kai is an asshole, but he isn't that much of an asshole. If you've been a good little lamb, then there's no need to bring up painful memories. He wouldn't want his obedient servant to be plagued with fear of others in their heart. However, act bratty, and he has no qualms of making himself a new set of memories for you to gain PTSD from.

ꨄ︎ The first time his hold on you loosened a bit is something you won't ever forget. You were looking for him when you heard moaning. Meadow had gone missing earlier, and you were worried. You found her partially tied up, and your heart broke in two. Kai looked back at you with no emotion in his eyes. He simply dismissed you with a 'get out'. 

You were so horrified that you quickly packed up and ran from the house. You snatched a stack of emergency bills that Kai always kept under his mattress. You slept in some shitty motel for a few nights. You planned on escaping to another state and starting anew. If you could just get a phone, you could call someone. Yet your heart was torn in two. Those tendrils of fear were wrapped so tightly around your mind that you were paralyzed with indecision. You love him, but he was cheating on you. He was supposed to protect you from the world! You forgot the most important lesson—to protect yourself from him.

You had multiple panic attacks each day while hiding in that motel. You feared stepping out of the door. You just couldn't do it. The 'what if' was too much. You knew that, rationally, no one was going to jump out and kill you. Right? Right...? RIGHT? You couldn't even open the door. Your hand reached the knob, and yet you couldn't open it. You just sank to the floor and continuously sobbed. You couldn't stop the feeling of dread and weakness.

What was he going to do when he found you? That thought had your head spinning. Your legs just gave out then and there. It was the one question that ran through your mind like a never-ending track carrying the train of your anxious thoughts. 

You had to get breakfast delivered to your room. You had to wear your clothes for multiple days. You didn't have any toiletries except the ones provided by the hotel. You were too paranoid to even take a shower. You needed Kai. You still needed him. You couldn't even breathe correctly without him!

ꨄ︎ You finally broke down. It was like he knew you would. You went to that campaign of his. You were barely able to step outside, but the promise of seeing him made you more than eager to leave. Once you spotted him, all your fears seemed to melt away. Then you saw Meadow shoot him. Your heart broke again—she fucks him, and then she shoots him? Who the hell does this woman think she is? 

You saw her turning the gun on herself, but you beat her to it. Another woman was screaming at the both of you. She took the gun. You just kept hitting Meadow. You don't know what came over you. All the bitter jealousy and hatred from that night just came up. You let it all out on her. Eventually, you heard a snap. That same woman was screaming at you and pointing the gun at your head. You killed Meadow. You snapped her neck. You felt good, in control. A part of you even liked it.

You didn't get to mull over it because the cops arrested that woman and led you away. You rushed up to Kai, who was on a stretcher. The emergency medical responders tried to push you away. Kai grabbed your hand and pulled you down onto him. With his other arm, he dug his nails into the side of your head. He sloppily made out with you until you were pulled away.

"It was all for you, baby. Come and ride in the ambulance with me. You've been bad—and you'll atone for your sins once I get better."

Those are the words he whispered in your ear. Your mixed emotions led you to feel so much, but how could you refuse? A moth is always drawn to a flame, just like you are always drawn to Kai. Hopefully, you won't get burned again by his lies and deceit.

ꨄ︎ Once he is home from the hospital and recovering, he chastises you. He screams, pushes things, and threatens you. He can feel actual tears filling his eyes at the fact that you tried to leave him. How dare you.

"Can't you see you worthless slut!? This has all been for you. I had to get Meadow out of the way for you and for us. Yet you run off to some shitty motel and hide there? You are pathetic."

Wait, he knew about the motel? Of course he did. He just wanted to allow you to make your own choice. Sure, he was going to drag you back to him anyway, but you coming back somewhat willingly just proves the control he has over you. It feels so good to have you twisted around his finger.

ꨄ︎ He makes you cut yourself because of this. It's a punishment that he often uses. He wants you to feel what he feels when you disobey him. Sometimes he cuts you himself. He teases the burning wounds and touches them. He kisses each one of them and licks the oozing blood leaving your veins.

He sees it as just another way for him to claim you. He feels that possessive urge inside of him cool when he sees the scars you have given yourself because of him. He enjoys cutting extra deep into your skin to hear those pained whimpers escape your sweet lips. He gets even happier when you get self-conscious about them. 'No, baby, you are so beautiful with those scars.' It's just another way to control you. You have to live off that praise from him, affirming your self-harming behaviors.

ꨄ︎ It evolves into a ritual. When he gets really pent-up, he cuts you up and drinks your blood. He tells you that's the most divine thing he's ever tasted. He kisses you and makes you taste yourself. He'll swirl your own blood around in your mouth with his tongue. He'll barely allow you to breathe. It's like it restarts his mind. He's calm after. He feels like a blank slate.

He once did it in front of his cult. You were sitting in his lap. You could feel him growing more livid and tense. He pulled out a pocket knife and gently knicked the side of your neck. He licked and kissed the blood away. He promised to give some of your blood to his inner circle if they all proved themselves to him. No, they aren't going to be allowed to touch your skin. They may drink from a vial. You are dreading the day that it becomes a normal practice within the cult.

ꨄ︎ That isn't the only punishment you'll get if you severely misbehave. He isn't against locking you in the basement and chaining you up. He'll deprive you of food and water and will only give his body to you as sustenance. Later on, he builds a metal cage in the basement. He uses it both for torture and to shove you in there if you are disobeying him. The cage is much worse than being chained to a wall. If you get chained to the wall, at least he'll let you near him. If you get caged, then some random follower of his just comes down and throws whatever shitty rations in between the bars. Most of the time the food isn't even edible—mold and other infectious diseases are tainting it. The little bit of water you get is wasted when they throw it on you.

By the time you are let out, you are malnourished and touch starved. Kai always makes sure to give the most heavenly aftercare. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and tells you that this didn't have to happen; all you had to do was behave. He gives you a bath with rose petals, and he gets out the fancy lotions, oils, and shit that he can't even pronounce. He makes sure that you have a fresh pair of clothes and the best meal one can dine on. He even took it slow with you that night. He is passionate and loving.

It's a side of him you rarely get to see...

ꨄ︎ Sometimes you want to act bratty just to see if you can get brown-haired Kai to come out and play again. It's a treacherous game. One wrong behavior, and you may end up kneeling before him, cutting yourself up for his entertainment once again. You can just do little things to manipulate him just a tiny bit. You are his well-trained bitch that occasionally loosens their collar and nips at their owner playfully. You have learned how to manipulate from the best, after all. Most of the time, Kai understands your angle, but rarely can he be tricked into misunderstanding your true intentions. 

ꨄ︎ Accidentally getting hurt can be one way to possibly soften him up. Although you do have a half chance of just being called a clumsy bitch by him. If it is someone else, accidentally or not, hurting you, not even the deities from the highest of heavens can save that person. He'll either beat them to death in the moment or plan their slow torture and subsequent death in the cage downstairs. After taking care of the filth, you may see a little bit of brown-haired Kai. He'll take care of any cuts or bruises and kiss your temple. You may or may not have paid that asshole five bucks so they could push you on the pavement and threaten you. You were scared to death that Kai would realize what you were doing, but it was more than worth it.

That's just one way that you can manipulate him into letting brown-haired Kai come out and play. 

ꨄ︎ Another one is if you cook for him. If you make him a good manwich, dressed up all pretty with an apron on, he is melting inside. He has this starstruck and dopey expression on his features. It's quickly replaced by indifference, but he is elated internally. If you bake, then all bets are off for cult leader Kai. He's oddly sweet when tasting your sweets because it allows him to regress back to a state of almost childlike innocence. It reminds him of when his mom would bake things with him and teach him to bond with him. His father always thought it was making Kai soft and a sissy, but he refrained from making those comments most of the time.

When you bake those sweets, it's like a positive trigger for him. He'll take a bite and wrap you up in his arms. He'll gently pepper kisses on your face and compliment your skills. A little bit more of brown-haired Kai comes out. He almost seems shy, nervous, and unconfident. Kai doesn't even realize he is acting like this. He just feels safe, like he is home.

ꨄ︎ He puts tracking chips in all of your things after your first attempt to leave him. Anything and everything has some sort of chip in it. He secretly enjoys hand-sowing the chips into all of your clothes and undergarments. It feels so oddly intimate to him. It's just another way to claim you as his. It makes him feel all giddy inside. All the chips are waterproof and extremely durable. He has access codes to all of them and can connect to them through any device he has. If you try to escape one too many times, he will chip you on your inner thigh. That way, he can casually rub his hand over your plush thigh and press his thumb right over where he implanted the tracking chip. It's his favorite way of reminding you that you have no way out—no possible escape from his binding grasp.

ꨄ︎ It doesn't stop there, no. He puts cameras everywhere. Some are in hidden places; others are not. He enjoys just flipping through the cameras on his phone while listening to some idiotic citizen complain about something miniscule for the thousandth time. You were wearing his clothing, just sitting in your shared bed and watching your comfort show. You were enjoying yourself with that innocently lewd expression adorning your now placid features. You just seemed like such a cute house spouse. He may have to excuse himself and go take care of a problem. What? You're just being so good for him. It makes him swell with pride.

ꨄ︎ If you are good enough, then he may allow you the privilege of having internet access. Of course, he is monitoring it. When he is in a good mood, he will act like he is your sugar daddy. Which he technically is, because he pays for everything and you are physically incapable of stopping him. Your wishlist is his. He keeps a list in your file about the types of gifts you like. 

You may just occasionally be surprised with the same exact thing that you had favorited awhile ago. You know it's always Kai doing it because he always buys some lacy or risqué for you to wear. He gifts you; you gift him with your body. Lingerie is just human wrapping paper, after all. He enjoys the present under the wrapping the best. 

He also scrolls through the media you watch. Any political content has a parental lock on it. It has to be approved by him before he allows you to watch it. If there is something intriguing that you decided to watch when you thought you had privacy, Kai may just barge in and ask if you'd like to recreate it.

ꨄ︎ If you get a period... Kai will track it. He will always make sure you have the right period products, foods, and medication. No, nuh uh—he swears he isn't doing it because he just genuinely cares and doesn't want to see you in pain he didn't cause. He's doing it because he can't have the future parent of his messiah baby harming their womb. It wouldn't be responsible if the divine ruler didn't treat your fertility with the respect it deserves. 

You're probably a lot luckier if you are able to get a period. He's a lot more lenient with you. He'll allow you to have mood swings and crying fits. He'll let you eat all the chocolate and sweets you want, as long as you eat the balanced meals he provides. He'll treat you like a god(dess) during that time. When no one is around of course. He completely focuses on your happiness and pleasure during that time.

ꨄ︎ When he gets arrested, you have another panic attack. You had finally settled into a comfortable routine with him. You had succumbed to Stolkhome syndrome. You were just content with it. Your anxiety and fears were still higher than ever, but Kai protected you from all the bad things. Now, the bad men want to take him away from you? You get interviewed many times. You refuse to speak. They call you a victim of his manipulation. They see your scars, and after a doctor gives you a physical examination, they conclude that Kai is an absolute monster. They had to give you anesthesia for the physical examination. It was the only time you talked with any of the police or detectives. It was more like shouting than talking. You thrashed, twisted, and turned to escape them.

In this way, it just proved that Kai was right. They said you were brainwashed by him. No, you weren't. Kai saw the truth in the corrupt institutions. They violated your boundaries for no good reason. Kai violated your boundaries, but for good reasons. You deserved it when he crossed them.

ꨄ︎ They declared you mentally unwell and put you in a mental hospital. You went willingly only because you wanted to be away from the scary people. You only got newer and scarier people. They made you strip, and you had to be constantly watched. It made you yearn for Kai's safety and control.

You lied to get out of it. You said that you were scared to cooperate at first. You weren't brainwashed by him. You were only acting like it because you feared him. They believed you, and within a month, you were out of there. They put you on anxiety and anti-depressants. They urged you to also get a therapist to work through your trauma.

ꨄ︎ You disregarded them. You didn't need therapy! You didn't need some bullshit medication! That's what Kai always said. The medication and psychologists were just there to warp your mind. They aren't there to help you. They are there to make you conform into what society believes is 'mentally well'. You just have a little problem. It's all just fake. Kai would tell you if you had problems. He helps you out. He keeps you safe. He'll tell you what to do.

ꨄ︎ You helped him escape prison. Naturally, it was hard to get in to visit him because some of the guards had heard whispers of what Kai had done to you. With a little bribe, you managed to secure a monitored conversation with him. He threatened the guard, and suddenly your conversation wasn't monitored anymore. Kai was so unbelievably proud of you. He was so proud of how loyal you are. He rewarded you for such a good job. He remarked you with hickeys and bruises, so people know who you belong to once again. He possessively rubbed circles into your inner thigh over your tracking chip. You wouldn't let the bad men take it out, and because of a lot of red tape, they legally couldn't do it without your consent. It just made him ready for another round. How did he get so lucky to have a person like you who loves him so dearly? A lot of abuse, manipulation, and Stockholm syndrome.

ꨄ︎ As you sit on his lap in one of the visitation rooms, he formulates a plan with you. Soon enough, you are dressed in a guard's uniform and stressed out of your mind. You were barely able to help him escape. Your hands were shaking the entire time. You must have taken over half of the bottle of that stupid anxiety medication just to get through it. You were a little out of it and threw most of the pills up after. 

Kai had to punish you for taking medication you weren't allowed to. He just worries about you, okay? They almost got his little lamb. He couldn't have your personality numbed by any 'medication'.

ꨄ︎ It all climaxes when he confronts Ally while she is running for senator. It was all such a blur. One moment they were arguing, and the next Beverly tried to kill Kai. You managed to tackle her and wrestle the gun out of her hands before she shot him. You got shot instead, in the gut. The next few months are extremely hazy for you. You kept going in and out of a coma. When you awoke, a lot had changed in Kai's world, but you remained ever-present.

ꨄ︎ You learned that Winter was gone. You didn't feel much. You didn't get to learn the details of it. It could have been way before you were even aware. Kai always kept you out of the loop about those things. He said it was to protect your pretty little head. You listened to him. You'd always listen to your divine ruler. Kai managed to slander Ally and turn everyone's opinion around. Suddenly, Ally was the one who had abused you and fed you all these lies about Kai. She was arrested and sentenced to death. Beverly met a worse fate. She was brutally mutilated in the same way that your, you forget, you had a stalker once—didn't you? You can't exactly remember.

You know Kai had a hand in it. He always has a hand in everything.

You learned that he truly was a cult leader. Your memories were so repressed and damaged that you were unable to connect the dots. You were overjoyed that Kai won the senatorial seat. He was heading towards the presidential seat next. With that, he had you married. A ring on your finger, forever. A divine ruler did need his spouse. It is crucial.

ꨄ︎ He made sure that you recovered and were right by his side while campaigning. He had a book ghost written for you about how evil Ally Mayfair-Richards was and how a vile feminist cult twisted your mind. Most of it was just sugar-coated lies. Kai's abuses were in there, but they were all said to just be minute things that Ally spun into a defaming web of lies.

He campaigned with you and made sure that all of your clothing was appropriate. He only let you show your scars when it would win him polling points. He still wanted the cutting to be just a you and him thing. He didn't need the press to see the fresher scars and cuts and run a slander campaign against him.

His possessiveness did occasionally overpower his need to dominate the world. He would always keep a hand on your waist, have at least one eye on you, and scare anyone off that tried to get too close to you.

ꨄ︎ It climaxed when he realized he needed to push family values. So he announced your pregnancy during an interview on some right-wing news platforms. You were understandably confused. You aren't pregnant. Kai plans on fixing that. All day and night, he is trying to fill your womb. He is so desperately making it so you will have his heir. Part of it is just publicity. Another wants his messiah baby really badly. He needs to baby trap you so you don't ever leave him. He needs to ultimately mark you as his. What better way than a child? The miniscule brown-haired part of him just wants to be a better father than his own. He just wants to be a better husband for you than his father ever was. He wants to make his mama proud, wherever she is in the afterlife. You wouldn't deny him this, would you? You've already given him so much. Just a little more, and he'll be satisfied. To think this all started with your silly little Reddit post. 

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @fuckedbykai @violet1737 @marchsfreakshow

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[wearepurplejackets]

Yugo needs (to go to therapy) a little analysis

I still remember in season 2 when Yugo felt for the first time a real sadness (yes, maybe the trauma started when Alibert/his father figure was transformed into a bush in season 1 but), when Quilby defeated Adamai and Yugo could feel his pain while he was possessed.

He was devastated.

And not only that, when he met Phaerys for the first time and saw him suffering all that pain when he was attacked by that posh prince's navy.

I think it's so wrong to think of Yugo as if he was really the villain of the story. (Wtf) I mean, of course the decisions he has made throughout the entire plot as a hero have negative perspectives for other sides and he is not the cheerful kid we met in the first and (and first part of) second season that maybe cried like a baby when Ruel faked his death.

But that's fantastic, because we could see him grow as a king and as himself. And we still can.

But as much as we can see in the season 4 by far, Yugo carries a great burden within. He is so empathic with everybody along the journey, he has compassion all the time. Even knowing he had a duty, Yugo always took into consideration the problems of the inhabitants of the world of 12.

Since he confronted Nox in season 1, he still feels guilty for his death deep in his heart in season 3/4, even if that wasn't really his fault at all. (In season 3, when Oropo played with his mind to keep him away from the battle, it was pretty obvious Yugo still fears all the pain he inflicted to his last enemies.)

He has traveled a path of trauma with his origins and betrayal since that moment at the hands of his older brother (Quilby). And he still remembers that as a defeat for himself, only because he is unable to kill him, but his brother is so dangerous that he cannot let him out either, he is chaotic.

Yugo really cared for his family and really cared for the people who suffered along the story, even the villains. Finally, Adamai comes to his senses and apologizes to his brother in season 4, he understands that Yugo had to do what he did to save everyone in season 3, not just Tristepin.

Oropo keep resenting Yugo's kind decision to save his best friend and the entire world btw in the process. (But he never did anything to stop him or the chaos of Ogrest...) Even knowing that and feeling the same as his creator in the end, he could not comprehend it through all that unfortunate life. He has dedicated himself to hate him and treat him as if Yugo had truly done everything he did on purpose. Instead of searching for him and looking for his help. I don't think of course it was as simple as that, because his suffering will have been very complicated. (all the eliotrops) and that's another analysis.

But again, putting all that on Yugo's shoulders and calling him a villain is absurd. I think season 4 is going to try to elaborate on this matter much better from here.

Yugo has been pushed to the limit dozens of times, and he has never complained. And god, he has helped to save the world like what, 3 times.... Give him a break. Even when there was peace he had to look and worry for Adamai in the oavs....

Yugo had to confront this statement in episode 1 of season 4: you were the one who take that decision, and you have to face the consequences. (And Oropo again having daddy issues.) And I really love that, to have an imperfect hero who can develop a more complex perspectives.

[sseomtada]

baby, te quiero comer ya [dominik szoboszlai]

you reunite with an old friend upon his arrival to liverpool.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 2056 | parts: 1

an: originally posted 08/2023

“You know it was always meant to be me, right?” His breath fans against the back of your neck.

The question has to take a chaotic path to your mind, battling the most fearsome opponents. Thunderous cries and howls of want and need rushing ahead as his fingers raked up the middle of your stomach, hiking up what little coverage your crop top provided.

You knew a lot of things.

The first being that going braless tonight was a brilliant decision. You coo at his warm palm ghosting over your cold, crystalized nipples. He chuckles softly at witnessing the beginning of your undoing.

The second thing you knew was that he ought to select his floor in this elevator before someone had the chance to spring the door open. Though, imagine it, what would his neighbors think?

To see him pressing to your back like this, hands squeezing your aching breasts as you gasp and arch into him. All while you watch them watch you in the mirrored walls.

“Pick your floor.” You shudder.

“I like it here,” He kneads your chest. “Though, this one…”

One of his hands comes down to cup you through your denim shorts. You drop your hips instantly, hoping and achieving your goal of feeling his fingers prod at your clenching hole.

“Nah, you’re not ready yet.” He laughs breathily.

You’re suddenly a victim of gravity again as he pulls away abruptly, but your wits are quick. Your back leans against the mirror, chest heaving while you watch him fetch his card holder and press it to the keypad. Penthouse was his choice.

“What do you mean by that?” The anger comes belatedly like everything else when you’re around him.

Dominik stalks over to you, sizing you up in a way that absolutely infuriates you.

It’s the look you hated growing up. The one that stupid, awkward, goofily cute guy that moved in next door wore. His silly laugh, and cocky expressions when he played in his backyard as you watched from the sides of your eyes over the fence.

Even as he blossomed, just before he moved away - the time you began to love his playful arrogance. How he insisted on that last night you’d spent alone on your roof that he was your first love, Adam be damned. You resented how right he was then just as you do now.

Are you ready?

You spent so much of your life looking for a crumb of what you felt for him in so many other people. Yes, you smiled and you laughed and you experienced pleasure, but none of it compared to what you felt by just being near him.

The safety and security he provided. His warmth that he shared on winter nights when he bundled you up with him under the blanket on his patio. The vulnerability you expressed, having him see you in a way you’d never let anyone else.

“Until you say it out loud,” Dominik tilts your chin up and kisses you, gently. “Everything that I want to hear,” Another kiss, longer this time. “I don’t think you are.”

He’s always been like this - cheeky, challenging. You reckon it’s a big part of his game, the way he messes with his opposition. It’s easy to underestimate a pretty boy with a pretty smile, but you know better. A razor is always hidden under his tongue.

“I’m supposed to, what?” You look up at him through your lashes. “Just give it to you like that? No persuasion from your end?”

If he doesn’t recall how sharp your own tongue is, you’ll happily reintroduce him. For every smart comment he had, you wielded an even stronger reply. Dating in the wild for all these years only honed your skills.

Dominick releases your jaw only to dip two fingers into your mouth. You hold his gaze, swirling your tongue around them as he uses his free hand to unbuckle your pants. Their bagginess find them to your ankles quickly and discarded following clumsy kicks.

“Wait-“ You think about someone interrupting the lift.

“Won’t stop for anyone.” Dom shushes you.

He wedges a leg between yours and then slides his spit coated fingers into your panties. You’re shaking as he runs them over your clit towards your hole, collecting the juices that had pooled there since you decided to come back to his.

“Seems like I don’t have to do much.” His lips brush yours as he taunts.

“My pussy’s always this wet,” You lie blatantly. “Come on, Domi. At least make me cum.”

He pushes his fingers into you and your head drops against the glass. Your greedy little pussy swallows them, so he adds a third. It’s the type of stretch that has you leaning back, pushing your hips forward to feel them hit your g-spot.

“You always this dirty too?” His lithe fingers pump into you sinfully.

“O-only when I like someone.” You finally begin to soften.

Dominik doesn’t miss it. The pad of his thumb circles your clit appreciatively, earning him an airy whine. He lifts his thigh up too, fucking his digits beyond comprehension into your cunt.

You twitch and writhe, gnashing your head against the hard surface behind you as you ride his hand. Your hands seek wildly for purchase beside you, moans loud enough to surely echo down the chute filling the space with your impending release.

He catches your bunched up crop top in his teeth and pulls powerfully. It’s a move that raises your upper body to fall into his hold. He secures you with a hand on your ass while your hips rut over him.

“I like you so-so fucking much, I always have.” Your hands clutch his head, holding him tightly to your chest as you cum hard. “It’s always been you, Dom.”

Dominick lets out a noise that you can’t classify as either groan or cry before his lips are on, over, and between yours. He backs out of the long opened elevator, your touch heavy and desperate around his frame.

“I know, Y/N.” He rasps. “I know.”

It’s enough to stop you in your tracks. The elevator dings - closing and descending with your shorts in tow. You’re standing there fighting to regulate your breathing, clutching your favorite face of all time.

He’s not smiling or gloating. His eyes are sharp, bottom lip shuddering with his own forceful breaths. He’s not cocky in what he says. Rather, there’s a sense of relief in his tone.

He finally knows he’s not alone in this.

Wordlessly, you strip yourself bare in front of him. Shirt, boots, socks, panties - in that order. He does the same until you’re left swallowing. An invisible force pulls you into him, your hands splaying over the marbled column of his torso.

He trails his fingers down the middle of your spine as yours work up his chest and shoulders and back down again to brush his cock. A hiss bounces from the walls in response.

You make a fist around him, trying and failing to touch your fingers together. Dominick grips your ass and presses you close, pining the hand that’s working his cock between your bodies.

“Fuuckk…” He groans.

His strong hold rips you away. It isn’t the sensation that’s too much too soon, but the prelude - the intimacy in the way your eyes consume him and your hands discover him. If he wants this to last, he has to switch things up.

You’re spun to have him at your back again, his cock prodding between your legs. You whimper and slide it through your sticky folds. The feeling nearly breaks him. He literally falls to his knees, albeit cooly and slowly, bringing you by the hips along with him.

Dominick reclines with you on top of him, your knees spread wide with your thighs held open by his own. While he continues to glide through you, he moans right into your ear. It’s a sound that leaves you feeling a foreshadowing of an orgasm yet to come.

Together, you form a chorus of bliss when he tucks his tip into you. With some help from you, relaxing against his girth to accept it all, his entire cock fit. Though it felt like you’d waited an eternity for this moment, there’s no rush from either side.

You’re focusing on etching the feeling of his tightening abs against your back as he rolls his hips into you, splitting you in two, into memory. He’s completely lost in you. A victim to your undertow, fighting for his life beneath your current.

He buoys himself to you in any way he can. His lips ever present on your neck, your jaw. His hands - curving around your waist and grasping your breasts, and rubbing the swollen mound between your legs.

Dominik spanks it then, and you clench super tight around him. There’s a feeling both familiar and foreign to you in it, confusing you. You fuck yourself on his cock, begging him to do it again.

He does and harder this time. You place your heels to the floor and take him balls deep, grinding your hips quickly back and forth until a scream ripped itself from your core.

“Holy fucking shit!” Your legs press together.

His thighs are wet all over when your hips settle back down and you feel your face flush. All the times you’d actively tried to do that before in the past rushing to the forefront of your mind, each resulting in failure.

“Always this wet?” Domnik slurs.

He pushes from the ground to roll you on your side, your head resting on his bicep. Your lips instantly attach to the skin stretched taut over muscle there. Skilled fingers trace up the tendons of your inner thigh as he raises your leg.

“First time.” You croak drunkenly.

Dominik is eating it up, you can feel it in the teeth that scrape on your back of your neck. He provides one last bit of torture since it’s all he can take, cock digging through your ruins.

Your stomach sinks in and he presses a hand to it, swearing filthily in his native tongue at his ability to feel his dick when he enters you again. A fresh wave of tears pool in the corner of your eyes.

‘too good, Dom…

I‘m so close…

You tremble at the thought, both afraid and relieved that the end is near. His plump lips kiss along your hairline as he takes a firm grip of your hips in both hands. It’s a pleasure to learn that he becomes more vocal the nearer he gets to release.

His tone is gorgeous - a higher tenor, yet still on the grittier side. Throaty, like a singer whose voice is going raw from emotion. You hold your breath to listen and drink his noises in fully, barely holding on for a few seconds at a time with how he’s driving into your pussy.

“Ah- fuckfuckbaby-“

Dominik pulls out in time to cum over your stomach, his tongue twisting with praise. You grab his hand and lace your fingers in his. With them conjoined, you bring them to your lips, sucking on his protruding veins.

“Was it worth the wait?” You whisper.

“Oh, édesem,” Dominik sighs. “Megőrülök érte…“

You’re about to tell him you feel crazy about him too when the elevator dings.

A measly scrap in the form of his shirt is grabbed to drape pathetically over you two just in time for it to open. There’s no one inside, but your shorts are neatly folded on top of a covered tray.

Dominik gathers it all while you rise to your feet, joining him at his kitchen island. Under the cover sits a huge plate of fresh fries and condiments, and a note that reads:

Welcome to Liverpool, Mr. Szoboszlai!

(p.s. these are for the lucky lady x)

[diminuel]

A "small" continuation of Angst thoughts.

I would like to add hurt/comfort is my fave thing lol, so I’m gonna expand a bit more on my first thoughts.

I think during the pregnancy, Crocodile is less resentful to the baby and more resentful towards Dragon. (I know my wording made it sound like he hates the baby, but I don’t actually think that.)

There was just a lot of hurt and complicated emotions going on at that time. I don’t think he could ever truly hate his baby. It was just more hate towards Dragon, for leaving him with this, and not considering what he truly needed.

Crocodile probably just viewed the baby more apathetically. Not wanting to get too attached with how unsure his future looked. He was probably just in this autopilot mode.

I think the birth made him snap out of it a bit, maybe he did want to be a parent, maybe he could work things out with Dragon, but Dragon took his choice out of it. Even if he wanted to try, he couldn’t. So this part of his life was dead to him now.

Marineford was a BIG moment for Crocodile. I think Iva would have put things together quick after Luffy told them who he was. With how close Iva and Dragon are, there’s no way Iva didn’t know about Crocodile and their relationship. But Dragon kept the pregnancy a very close secret. I think partly because of the shame and guilt he feels about how things played out. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear Iva say the things he already knows. So Iva being unaware of Crocodile thinking his baby is dead, but putting the pieces together, probably tried to subtly hint to Crocodile he knows Luffy is his kid.

All of that flies over Crocodile’s head, in his mind his baby is dead. It’s more likely that Dragon knocked someone else up and just had another kid. Maybe Crocodile doesn’t even want to acknowledge the possibility of his baby being alive, ESPECIALLY that baby being alive as Luffy, the kid he tried to kill in Alabasta. To find out Dragon lied to him to think his baby was dead, and was actually Luffy this whole time. AAAAAHHH big shit right there.

I think he eventually puts the pieces together, but probably knows it would be really random to suddenly be all over Luffy. So does his best to protect him and his brother during Marineford. Seeing Luffy so emotionally hurt when Ace dies probably felt like a punch to the gut for Crocodile. I like to think Iva and Crocodile are pretty decent friends. So after everything happens at Marineford maybe they meet up, and have a heart-to-heart. Crocodile drops the bomb that he didn’t know Luffy was his kid or even alive, and that he almost actually killed him. Iva then has a very strongly worded call with Dragon and kicks the shit out of him next time they meet.

I'm not sure Dragon and Crocodile could truly ever rekindle a relationship, but I do think they could get to a less hostile point. It would just take a lot of healing.

Also, sidenote, I think Crocodile finding out how Luffy was raised was just another thing added to the shit list on Dragon. Like Imagine you find out the baby you had wasn't dead, and wasn't even taken care of by the man who told you it was dead. Just tossed to the side to be raised by some bandits in the mountains and by his crazy ass marine grandfather.

;w; (Here's the previous post.)

Yeah, I think it's really difficult for Crocodile to get over the fact that Dragon took the choice away from him. I think Iva would ultimately understand why Dragon did what he did (after some explosive anger of course) since they've known Dragon for so long, but they would still feel with Crocodile. And they'd probably try to bridge the gap between all these people because they get tired of all the moping.

I'm a hopeless person so I think Dragon and Crocodile could eventually make peace with the situation and move forward. I mean the resentment would be on Crocodile's side so he would have to be able to overcome that hurt (and the anger and really, Dragon? Mountain bandits and your crazy ass marine grandfather?! Crocodile has had the misfortune of being sent on Warlord missions with the guy.) Whether Dragon would have held on to whatever love he had for Crocodile or if he stopped caring is another question.

(They definitely have to meet and fight it out. Maybe they could have hate sex about it too I don't know. Sorry. Sending myself to jail. )

[ncityprincess]

And don’t you forget it

Pairing: bf taeyong x single mom reader ft. asshole johnny

Plot: blah blah blah this is just fiction I don’t know these people. Johnny is not very nice in this and he may bring up some abandonment wounds so proceed with caution 🫶🏾

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Yeah sorry babe, something…came up” Johnny slurred with a dazed chuckle. Here you were, up way earlier than usual getting your 5 year old daughter ready for her day with her incompetent daddy, and he couldn’t even be bothered to give you a heads up before he cancelled. Again.

“Yeah I can see that John” you sighed, running out of the little patience you had left. You could tell he was lying in bed with whichever chick he picked up last night. “You know, being hungover on a Tuesday isn’t a good look. And neither is flaking on your daughter for the umpteenth time in a row.” You were ready to tell him off even more, but you were interrupted by a woman’s cartoonishly seductive voice.

“Johnnyyy baby, come play with me again.” A woman with a thin sheet wrapped around her body came into the frame and leaned down to press sensual kisses into Johnny’s neck. He groaned obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. “In a minute, doll” he purred.

“Ugh, you’re such a joke. You know, Kaylee is going to kindergarten this year. She’s not dumb John, she’s gonna grow up to resent you for abandoning her like this.” Your voice kept getting louder and louder in the echoey bathroom. You had dealt with his carelessness for far too long.

“Look I’m sorry ok?” He said nonchalantly. “Let’s just try again next week. Gotta go, give Kaylee a kiss for me, will ya?”

“FUCK YOU” You shrieked, and hung up the FaceTime call before slamming your phone onto the bathroom counter. You could feel the hot tears forming in your eyes already. Once again, your child’s father had made all these extravagant plans for your daughter, just for him to not follow through.

A faint knock on the en-suite bathroom door made the shame of the situation set in even more for you. You took a deep breath and let out a defeated “come in.” It was Taeyong, your current boyfriend and first relationship after having your daughter and separating from Johnny.

Even in your state of frustration, you were able to admire how beautiful he looked with his messy bed head and navy blue boxers hanging dangerously low on his lean hips.

Your relationship with johnny all came to a head when he had made the final screw up that made you gain the courage to break up with him. He missed Kaylee’s 3rd birthday party because he was out doing his usual routine of getting hammered, and ended up getting into a bar fight for one reason or another. he had to spend the rest of the night sobering up at the local jailhouse, thus missing his baby girl blow out her candles.

After spending the better part of a year beating yourself up over your break up and blaming yourself for Kaylee not having a good father in her life, you decided enough was enough. Johnny needed to figure his own shit out, and do his own healing. His demons have nothing to do with you or your daughter, and it wasn’t your job to fix him. You made the decision to try the co-parenting thing, but it was easier said than done.

On one spring day, Taeyong had approached you at a cafe to tell you how beautiful you looked in your yellow dress. You couldn’t even look him in the eye, too embarrassed to receive such a compliment. It was the first time you had actually felt seen that way in a while. From there, your relationship flowed like water. Everything just came naturally for the two of you. Kaylee absolutely adored Taeyong, and he loved to spend quality time with her. He would take the three of you to see the latest Disney movie, go to the water park, and treat you to ice cream dates. Everything just felt. Natural.

But of course, the great co-parenting dilemma always lingered.

“Hey” he greeted with a softly with a small, gentle smile.

“I hate him Tae. I hate him so much!” By now the dam had broke, and the tears started flowing. Taeyong immediately embraced you and rubbed your back soothingly.

“My love…” he cooed, but let you continue.

“Why does he get to keep doing this to us? To her? He—he doesn’t even care that he’s hurting Kaylee. And once again, I’m left to break the news that her father doesn’t want to see her.” You sobbed.

This song and dance of johnny attempting to be a father had gone on for far too long. When you were pregnant, you were convinced the three of you were going to be a happy little family forever, but once Kaylee was born, Johnny had changed. A lot. He partied till 4 am, came home plastered, and did the same thing all over again the next day. You were the only one getting up at all hours of the night to feed your daughter and change her. You were cooking all the meals and cleaning the house. You were there to pick up the pieces when Johnny messed things up. You felt like a single parent in your own home. After three years of failing to be a good father to Kaylee, you made the decision to break up with him and asked him to move out of your house.

“He’s a coward. Any man that can’t take responsibility for their child is immature and selfish. We’ll figure this out together baby.” Taeyong held you for a few more moments and pulled away to cradle your face in his warm hands. You looked up at him through tear-stained lashes. His eyes held so much sincerity and reassurance.

“The day doesn’t have to be totally ruined. How about the three of us go to the Zoo! They just opened up that new butterfly exhibit, those are Kaylee’s favorites.”

You sniffled, making taeyong’s heart swell. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” He said softly. Taeyong wiped the last few straggler tears that were left on your cheeks. “You’re too good to me, Tae” you whined. “Nonsense, nothings to good for you, my love. As long as I’m around, you and Kaylee’s happiness are my top priority.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss against your lips. Taeyong’s kindness was one of the things that drew you to him the most. He was so selfless and never made you feel bad about being a single parent. The overwhelming love you had for him made you fall deeper into the kiss. You wanted to forget all about this situation with your ex.

After a few moments of passionate kissing, taeyong gently grabbed your hand and guided you back into the main bedroom. He stopped right in front of your full length mirror. Taeyong stepped behind you and ran his hands up and down your sides. “Look love, look at yourself in the mirror. Aren’t you so beautiful?” He whispered into your ear.

You cast your timid gaze into your own reflection, noting taeyong’s hungry eyes staring into yours through the mirror. You could feel the front of his body pressed against your ass. You felt yourself getting damp at the sensation of taeyong’s morning wood. You quickly looked down at your feet, the intimate sight in front of you was too much to handle. “Tae come on…”

“Ah ah ah, say you’re pretty. Tell me how pretty you are.” he raised your head back up with gentle fingers and looked down at you. He pressed slow, intentional kisses into your neck, making your eyes roll back.

“I’m—I’m pretty” you finally breathed out.

“Yes *kiss* you *kiss* are *kiss*”

Your legs felt like jelly. If it wasn’t for taeyong’s strong arms wrapped around you, you surely would have melted onto the floor. His one hand snaked up the front of your body, past your tank top covered breasts and settled around your neck. His piercing eyes met yours in the mirror once again “and don’t you forget it.”

Taeyong pulled your tank top off of your body, cursing when he saw your bare breasts. He played with your nipples, admiring the way your ass started to grind against his stiff dick.

“Mmm, I want you” You moaned out. Taeyong guided you onto the bed and laid you on your back. “I’m all yours, my love.” He pulled off both of your bottoms and stroked himself a few times. You both moaned once he finally entered you. The delicious stretch of his cock got rid of whatever lingering thoughts of johnny you had in your mind.

Taeyong wrapped your legs around his hips and picked up the pace. He caressed the side of your face, smiling down at you. “You feel so good baby” he grunted. You loved how gentle and sweet he was being, but you needed something a little different in this moment.

“Tae…pound me, please?” You begged. Taeyong slowed his movements and a smirk grew on his face. “Anything for you, my love”. Before you knew it, you were flipped over and placed on all fours. Taeyong slammed back inside of you, making you cry out.

“Fuckkkk just like that!” You grabbed onto your headboard for dear life, partially to stop it from banging against the wall. Kaylee was only a few doors down.

Taeyong let out a guttural groan, loving the way your walls squeezed his dick. He had a vice grip on your hips, pounding his lower body into yours. “Shit, feels so good baby. You’re so wet.” Your arousal was dripping all over your thighs and his dick, making it nice and easy for Taeyong to piston in and out of you. The obscene noises of pleasure and skin on skin caught up to you, and you were ready to burst any second now.

“Baby I’m gonna cum” you whined, toes curling in preparation for your orgasm. Taeyong reached around to play with your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. You couldn’t hold on anymore, and allowed your high to wash over you.

“Oh good girl, I’m right behind you baby” Taeyong praised. He sloppily thrusted into you a few more times before blowing his load inside of you. You whined at the overstimulating feeling, enjoying the sound of taeyong riding out his own high.

He finally pulled out of you, and you both collapsed onto the bed side by side. You caught your breath, and turned to face him. He was already staring at you with sleepy, satisfied eyes. “I love you Tae, thank you. For everything.”

Taeyong caressed your hip. “I love you more baby. Now, let’s go see where Kaylee wants to eat for breakfast before we go to the zoo!”

The end ❤️

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo Assassin Au: Part 1◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[tw: gore, extreme violence, sadistic Jinwoo. Inspired From Manhwa: Killer Peter.]‼️

・┆✦ Entry : 013 ✦ ┆・

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ The Emperor of the Dark Hours; The True Nightmare of the Witching Hours.] ¡! ❞

Stripped of his right to live as a child, a poor soul entangled in the curse of the devil as someone unfortunately chosen to be a vessel of a secret organization who's sole purpose is to be a breeding grounds for war machines— This was the life 10 year old Sung Jinwoo had found himself stuck in.

He hated his life, oh how he resented the world and cursed it's existence. But what was he to do? He was taken away from his family and reportedly they had died in the hands of his puppeteers.

He had no home to go back to.

So he spent his life perfecting the art of murder, his animosity has been bred to its full extent since at the ripe age of 21— Jinwoo had already climbed his way into being the most powerful assassin the underworld never have fathomed.

Jinwoo was ruthless with his assassinations, he spares no mercy with his targets. Not even giving them the luxury of screaming for their life. The moment their mouths open— Their head would already be rolling on the floor while the rest of their bodies would stand in an eerie stance as blood sputters out of it like a delicate fountain.

It was mercy if you had been able to even realize your upcoming doom, most of the time his targets would have died without even realizing the cause.

One minute you could be indulging in a fine wine imported from the best, the next, you're already in purgatory.

All while your killer takes the bottle of red liquid and pours himself a drink, indulging in the taste of fine luxury, gulping it down with his adam's apple moving so sensuously in his throat before throwing the glass away on the floor so lazily.

Nobody had ever seen his face, nor could the authorities ever dare to bring him to justice.

Jinwoo was too clever, too smart, too calculating.

His crimes had always been perfect, making it more frustrating for them to try and capture him.

So they stopped trying, stopped attempting to find the devil of the witching hours.

50 years. He ruled for 50 years until all of the sudden his activities were put to an eerie stop.

No client could find him, not even his former bosses could look for him. His face was just all too well hidden.

Jinwoo grew up to be a retired old man running a tiny little shop in a small neighborhood. Though he was a quiet and reserved man, the neighbours adore his meals.

Such a shame that a man like him would be so secretive and quiet. Though, he did have a weak spot for children. For once, the people around him would see a glimmer of gentleness spread across the old man's stone-cold features.

The little boys and girls remind Jinwoo of his dear baby sister who he accompanied all the time to watch little girl movies and played with her dolls.

His life was peaceful for another five years.

That was,... Until all of the sudden, his humble little shop got infiltrated by a bunch of thugs.

Jinwoo tried to fight them back, but oh his brittle bones and already scrawny body failed to fight against the young ones who thrashed him around like a pathetic ragdoll.

As a last effort to escape with his little life, Jinwoo threw hot sauce in their eyes just so he can slip away into the darkness.

He ran and ran until he crashed into the field of wheat. The dirt and grime stuck on his old and withered body as he stared up at the beautiful night sky above his head.

How pretty were the stars are, the only salvation for a man like him who lived in bloodshed and despair.

It was a rightful ending for the Emperor of the night, no longer will he plague the witching hours with his brutality—

A pathetic goodbye for a man who has never lived.

He thought of his baby sister, had she lived she would be married by now and having a child of her own and grandchildren of her children. He thought of his loving mother, who cradled him in the darkest of nights and soothed his nerves from his nightmares. He thought of his father, the man he admired the most for his kindness.

The consciousness of the old man slipped away in an instant, a fleeting farewell to the hell he has come to call 'Home.'

Or so he thought.

Jinwoo jolted awake, his head hammering so painfully as he regained his senses.

It went on like that for a few seconds before a female voice scolded him out of nowhere.

"Oppa! How long are you gonna laze around there like a caterpillar!!! You have work to do!!" A female girl, presumably 17 or so, scolds him with an angry pout.

Jinwoo stared at her emptily, dumbfounded at her appearance. Jet-black hair and grey eyes that strongly resembled him, a face as pretty as his mother when she was young in his vivid memories— Jinah.

"Whatever, stop staring like that and I will be off to school now! And don't kill yourself while hunting!"

"G-Goodluck at school." Jinwoo manages to stammer out in his flustered state. Jinwoo watched his little sister leave his room, feeling lightheaded with how surreal everything is.

How badly did he want to run up to her and hug her tightly. But his legs were shaking too much. After a while of contemplating. He got up from his bed and navigated the small apartment to look for the bathroom.

After a while, he managed to find it. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, cold grey eyes looking at a figure of a scrawny adult who looked like he was just 15 or 16.

He sighed, running his hand back at his hair as he mumbled under his breath: "What a scrawny little brat this body is. Fuck—"

Jinwoo suddenly toppled over, groaning in pain as his head suddenly had a massive migraine. Memories were pouring. They were his but not really his.

It was the memory of the former Sung Jinwoo, the scrawny owner of this pathetic body.

Dungeons, monsters, death, death, D E A T H.

"Huu...." The migraine subsided, a smirk forming on Jinwoo's face as he ran his hand on his hair. "It's like a game, and this bloody thing that keeps annoying me all morning"

His gaze then turned towards the notification window that was floating in front of him, "Jinah couldn't see this. I guess it's only available for me?..."

"I guess it's time to work again."

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Out of Touch: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: angst, injured!reader, fluff at the end

Request by @paarthurnax59: Hi! I hope you are doing alright! was wondering if I could do a part 2 to "Out of Touch" Where Reader realize that her and her son are in worse danger than she thought and are forced to stay at the bunker and her and Dean hunt down the demons that want Carter because he's Dean's son. Lucifer escaped and wants him as his vessel. Dean gets to see Reader in action and is impressed even tells Satan off. Reader starts to have feelings for Dean again and he nearly died protecting his family. Maybe not a happy ending but a more hopeful one where Reader gives him a second chance?

Summary: After being discharged from the hospital, you stay with your ex and his brother in their fortress of protection. Everything you do, you do for son... even if the devil himself wants him.

PART ONE

Square Filled: sam winchester (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The hospital discharged you a couple of hours ago even though your wound is still fresh. They were hesitant to let you go home alone but after convincing them you wouldn’t be alone, they let you go. You didn’t lie; you’re not alone. It's just not another adult with you.

The only place you and Carter can lay low is in a motel you were able to get for cheap. This will have to suffice until you can move on your own without the fear of bleeding out. The hospital gave you a prescription for pain meds even though they aren’t doing much for you.

You’re resting on the bed when your son walks over with the blanket from the bed next to you. He drapes it over your body as best as he can before tucking you in.

“It should be me taking care of you,” you sigh tiredly.

“It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t mind.”

“Can you get me some water? I need to take my medicine.”

Carter does what he’s told without question. You hate that he’s in this position in the first place. He should be out playing and making friends and going to school. Instead, he’s stuck with you while you heal. Before dealing with the wendigo that hurt you, you tried giving Carter a childhood as normal as possible. You took him to amusement parks and aquariums, and you allowed him to get whatever toy he wanted even if you didn’t have the money for it.

“When am I gonna see Daddy again?”

The thought of Dean brings you to tears. You don’t let them fall for the sake of your son. Seeing him in the hospital brought back so many feelings that you thought you buried. He hurt you, there’s no question about it, but the reason why you were so hurt is because you still have feelings for him… you think. Will you give him a second chance? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure how you feel but you know it’s not resentment.

It’s harder now that Carter has met him. Had he not, you could have lived in the bubble you tried so hard to create.

“I don’t think being around him is a good idea, baby.”

“Why not?”

Before you have a chance to answer him, someone knocks on your motel door. Carter is about to go answer it when you stop him.

“No, let me. I got it.”

You bite back a moan of pain as you get up and approach the door. You look through the peephole and sigh at who is standing there. If he’s standing there, then that means his brother isn’t far behind. Are you ready to face him again? You open the door to let Sam in, and you go back to the bed to rest.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he closes the door.

“I’m here to take you and Carter to the Bunker.”

“Why?” you sigh.

“Come on, you want to stay here? There are resources at the Bunker that can help you get better.” You open your mouth to protest when Sam cuts you off. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re both coming with us.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I know you, Y/N. I know what you were going to say. Come on, let me help you up.”

You have no choice but to accept Sam’s help. You’re still in a lot of pain that when you move, you can feel your blood seeping through the bandages. Carter gathers what he can and follows you and Sam out to the Impala. Dean is sitting behind the wheel watching and waiting for you and his son. When he sees you limping out of the room, he faces forward and grips the steering wheel. Sam brings you to the front seat, but you point to the back with a shake of your head.

“No, backseat.”

Sam looks at his brother and does what you ask him to do, and your son climbs into the backseat with you.

“Hi, Daddy,” Carter smiles.

“Hey, buddy.”

Dean looks in the rearview mirror and sees unshed tears in your eyes. He hates himself for what he did to you. He wants to make it right if you’ll let him but he knows it’ll take a lot of time. Sam comes back with the rest of your things so that your motel room is empty. Once you’re all in, Dean takes off toward the bunker.

You’ve never seen the inside of this Bunker much less knew about it, so when Dean pulls into the garage, you’re impressed with all the cars there. Carter hops out of the car once it’s parked and runs around excitedly, and you get out with a groan.

“Carter, stay close, okay?” Sam escorts you into the kitchen with Carter and Dean behind you. “Wow, you’ve got quite the setup here. I can’t wait to see all of it when I’m feeling better.”

“That might be quicker than you think. Follow me.”

You and Carter follow Sam into the massive library where there is a man in a trenchcoat. You pull Carter into you so that he doesn’t leave your side. You have no idea who this is or what he is, and you’re not about to let your son approach him.

“This is Castiel. He’s an angel.” Sam must see the panic on your face so he quickly eases your concerns. “He’s a good angel. He’s family.”

Castiel walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly, the pain in your side is gone, all your aches have magically gone away, and you feel one hundred percent again.

“Whoa. You’re good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he nods.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N, Dean’s--” You stop yourself short because what are you even going to say? You’re his ex-girlfriend? His baby mama? “I’m Carter’s mom.”

“Carter is Dean’s son?”

You nod twice before turning to Sam. Dean is hanging out by the entryway between the kitchen and the library. He has yet to say a word to you.

“Where can we put our things?” you ask Sam.

“Follow me.”

You and Carter leave the library so that Castiel and Dean are alone.

“She hates me,” Dean sighs. “What I did eight years ago was dickish, cowardly, and so fucking stupid. I wish I could take it all back.”

“Give it time. I have faith it’ll work out in the end.”

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean scoffs and leaves.

Sam takes you to the room in the hall where his bedroom is as opposed to the hallway where Dean’s is. The room is bare but has the opportunity to look more like yours if given love.

“Look, Carter can stay right across from you in the other room.”

“Thank you, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam turns to leave when he pauses by the door. “You know, he really does love you.”

“Sam, please don’t,” you sigh. “I’m already tempted to leave. The only thing stopping me is Carter. He knows you two now, and I can’t do that to him. Don’t make this worse for me.”

“Sure. I’ll leave you alone then.”

Sam closes the door behind him so that you’re alone in your room. Carter is probably with Sam or Dean, and you let him bond with either one for the time being. It’ll be hard to pull him away from his dad later on, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you come to it. You take off the bloody gauze and change into clean clothes before picking up the notebook you carry with you everywhere.

The entire notebook is filled with pictures of you and Dean over the years of your relationship. When you two were together, he was so good to you. He made you feel like you were the only one in the world. Despite whatever he put you through, despite him kicking you out of his life, you still love him like a goddamn idiot.

Over the next week, you and Carter got used to living in the Bunker. Sure, you’re healed and are more than welcome to leave but then you’d be taking Carter from his dad and uncle. He’s gotten rather attached to both of them fairly quickly. What kind of mother would you be if you took him away now?

You’ve got the opportunity to explore the Bunker at your leisure without an eight-year-old attached to your side. This place is extremely impressive, you have to admit. It’s a bitch to clean, that’s for sure, but you’re not going to be some freeloader even if the brothers don’t think that you are. You cook, clean, and do laundry where you can so you feel like you’re doing something with your life.

It makes you feel better, so they kind of leave you alone about it.

During one of your breaks, you wander the Bunker until you come across the basement where the gun range and the dungeon are. Yes, they have a fucking dungeon which is pretty cool. There are sounds of guns going off in the gun range, so you walk inside to investigate. Dean and Carter are in with protective eye goggles and ear protection on. Carter is the one shooting a gun that looks very dangerous to begin with. 

“Really, Dean?” you sigh and lean against the door frame.

Both of them stop to look at you. Dean can see the worry on your face which he eases immediately. 

“It’s a BeBe gun.”

“Look, Mommy! I can shoot a gun!” Carter says happily.

“Yeah. Good job, baby.”

They go back to practice shooting while you stand there and watch. Carter is way too attached to Dean and this place. If you’re going to leave, it’s not going to be with Carter.

The next day, you and Carter decide to go on a grocery store run to get more food for the Bunker. You thought Carter ate a lot, try living with him and the brothers. They are all vacuums, and you don’t know where they put them. The store isn’t too busy where you have to fight with someone while walking down the aisle, so you take your time and make sure you get everything on your list.

Carter is set on putting treats and snacks in the cart while you get meat, fruits, and other things to make meals with. It’s a damn good thing the Men of Letters have a virtually never-ending bank account to help with the cost of all this food. Carter grabs both cookies and donuts but you put your hand out to stop him from putting both into the cart.

“You get cookies or donuts. You don’t get both.”

“Okay.”

He drops the cookies into the cart before putting the donuts back. You walk away from your cart and approach an item on the shelf that’s on your list, and you look back at Carter to see him clutching the side of the cart patiently. After getting the item, you walk back to the cart but end up bumping into a man. 

“I am so sorry,” you gasp.

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. You think that’s the end of the interaction but he stops and sniffs the air as if he smells something unusual. “Winchester.” He looks at Carter and his eyes flash pitch black. “Winchester baby.” You pull your son behind you so that he’s trapped between you and the aisle shelf. Another man with pitch-black eyes blocks the path on the other end of the aisle so the only way you’re getting out is through one of them. “He’s coming with us.”

“Over my dead body,” you growl.

“Fine by us.”

“Carter, get in the cart.” Carter does as he’s told without question while you unsheathe your iron knife from your pocket. Ever since he was born, you’ve always carried silver and iron on you at all times. You never know when you’ll get attacked. You twirl your knife and look between the two men. “You want him? Come and get him.”

The demon you bumped into rushes at you with his arms outstretched, and you take this opportunity to take him down in one move. You grab his arm and stab the iron knife in his forearm causing him to cry out in pain. You kick him in the chest and he goes flying away from you. Carter screams and you turn to see the other demon only inches from him. 

You run at him before he has a chance to touch your son, and you drop down to your knees at the last second so you’re sliding toward him instead. Thank God for linoleum floors. When you reach him, you shove the knife into his thigh. He bends down in pain so you grab the nearest thing on the shelf that can be used as a weapon which is a glass jar of pickles. You ram the pickle jar into the man’s skull and he crumbles to the ground. 

You get up and grab the handles of the cart to escape when you see the first demon get to his feet. Without thinking, you run at him with the cart in front of you. You hit him at full force which sends him back to the ground. You abandon the cart to approach the man and grab his hair. You yank it back and slice the man’s throat which burns like hell. It’s not the demon knife so it doesn’t kill him, but it does send a message.

Both men realize they aren’t getting out of this alive so they tip their heads back and smoke out. Taking the easy way out. Of course. You’re not sure if more are coming so you have to go now.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

You pick Carter up and carry him out of the store. You don’t look back, not even when you get back to the Bunker. Sam and Dean are in the kitchen drinking beer when you rush in with your son in your arms.

“Where’s the food?” Dean asks. Both of them look over and see the fear in your eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Two demons caught us at the store.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No. They smoked out. I couldn’t kill them.” You turn to your son who has a smile on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Mommy, you were totally awesome! Slicing and cutting those demons! Like the people in my video games!”

You chuckle, glad he isn’t scared.

“Go play in your room. I’ll be right there.” Carter runs to his room and you turn to the brothers with a worried look. “They wanted Carter because he’s Dean’s son. They want a Winchester. They told me.”

This pisses Dean off. He clenches his jaw in anger and makes a fist with his hand.

“I’ll make some calls.”

Dean turns and leaves the kitchen, leaving you and Sam alone. He sees something on your arm and frowns. He grabs your hand and inspects your arm.

“Are you alright?”

You look to where Sam is and see your blood seeping through your clothes. Sam rolls your sleeve to see a cut that’s not too deep. You must have gotten hurt in the small battle.

“I’m fine.”

Sam grabs a small towel and wets it underneath the faucet. He starts to clean your wound and take care of you since Castiel isn’t here to do it.

“Did you really fight off two demons?” You nod twice and he smiles. “Way to go.”

“Thank you,” you smile back.

Dean comes back an hour later looking more stressed than before. You’re all bandaged up with Sam in the library.

“I spoke to Crowley.” Dean sees the confused look on your face. “He’s a demon. He’s a dick but he’s a frenemy. Anyway, looks like Lucifer is looking for a new vessel since Sam rejected him.”

“He wants Carter?”

“Crowley put it as ‘fresh meat’ and a new start.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” you growl. “What are we gonna do?”

“We’re gonna talk to him.”

“Talk to him? You want to talk to Satan himself?”

“We have a… complicated relationship,” Sam shrugs.

“Who is going to stay here with Carter?”

“You,” Dean says.

“Uh, no. If my son is in danger by the devil himself, I’m not staying her. I’m fighting for my child.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Sam quickly volunteers.

“Fine. We’ll both go.”

“Fine.”

You and Dean get ready while Carter stays with Sam. If you’re going to up against the devil himself, you’re gonna want some weapons to protect yourself with. By the time you’re done, Carter is in the war room with his uncle. You kneel on the ground in front of him and kiss his cheek.

“Be good, my love. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“In one piece?”

“I promise,” you smile. You and Dean leave the Bunker where his beloved car is parked outside. “So, how do you contact the devil?”

“Like this.”

Dean starts the car and drives to the nearest crossroads that is safest. He doesn’t want to get too close and have demons up the ass, especially if his son is back at the Bunker. Once parked, Dean gathers what he needs inside a tin container and buries it in the middle of the crossroads. Five minutes pass and a crossroads demon appears behind you two.

“Winchesters. How am I not surprised?” You two turn to see the man with red eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here talking to you two.”

“Save the theatrics,” Dean rolls his eyes. “We want to talk to your boss. I’m sure if he hears Dean is looking for him, he’d want to meet. Why else would he send his thugs after my son?”

The demon looks between you two and sighs. If Lucifer knew he’d turn down you two, then he’d get the bad end of his temper.

“Fine.” The demon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card. “Meet him here. He’ll be expecting you.”

The address is to a hotel on the other side of the state. If Lucifer wants his son, then it makes sense to have a home base in the same state as him. It takes five hours to get to Lucifer, and you see it’s a rundown hotel that doesn’t seem to be in use. The parking lot has trash everywhere, the trees are dead, the windows are boarded up, and the place looks like it’s gonna collapse any second.

Two demons meet you in the lobby with black eyes. They turn and leave without a word, and you look at Dean in confusion. He shrugs and decides to follow them to a room down the hall. Inside the room is two more demons and Lucifer himself who is in front of some computers that has all kind of information on them. Scanners, pictures, articles, and other things in his interests.

“Ah, Winchesters. I am so glad to see you,” Lucifer smiles and turns. “How is that son of yours?”

“Stay the hell away from my son,” you glare angrily.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. I need a new vessel.” Lucifer gestures to his own body. “This one is wearing thin.”

“Why my son? Why not anyone else?”

“The younger they are, the better, and it’s a plus that he’s a Winchester.”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Dean steps forward. “Come near my, Y/N, or my son, and I’ll kill you dead.”

Lucifer lifts his hand and snaps and in an instant, Dean is chained to the wall with rope. You’re about to go to him when two demons hold you on either side of your body to prevent you from moving. When you struggle, their grip tightens.

“You think you’re tough?” Lucifer asks and walks over to Dean. “How about now?” 

The Archangel punches Dean in the jaw so hard that Dean gets blown back from the attack.

“Stop it!” you gasp and struggle some more.

Dean looks up with a glare and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’re being tough for your girl, huh?”

Lucifer punches Dean yet again, drawing blood on his cheekbone.

“Get your hands off him!” you yell hopelessly.

“I don’t know why you hang out with these chumps. They’re bad news.” Lucifer turns to you with a smile. “I’m much better company.”

“Some angel you are,” you scoff. “No wonder God cast you out of Heaven. You’re a lowlife and a coward.”

The smile on the angel’s face disappears, and he stalks over to you with a glare. He grabs your chin tightly and forces you to look up at him.

“No! Don’t touch her!” Dean gasps from the pain.

“Say that again,” he whispers.

You conjure up enough saliva in your mouth and spit right in his face.

“You’re a fucking coward who picks on the weak. No wonder God doesn’t love you.” Lucifer smirks and wipes your spit from his face. His cool demeanor is kind of scaring you but you’re not going to back down, not when your son is at stake. He snaps his fingers again and Dean coughs up blood. He doubles over in pain and spits a pool of blood onto the ground. “Leave him alone!”

“Why?” Lucifer lets go of you and takes two steps back. “We’re having so much fun.”

He turns back to Dean and punches him in the face again, right in the same spot as before.

“You want someone to fight? Fight me! No powers, just me!” Lucifer pauses but doesn’t accept your challenge. “What, are you scared you won’t win against a human?”

Lucifer gestures for the two demons to let go of you, and they listen obediently. He grabs an angel blade off the table and walks over to you. You think he’s going to stab you with it but he twirls it in his hand so that the handle of pointing toward you.

“Take it. I’ll make it fair. You know, for when we fight.”

You grab the blade and stare at it before throwing it off to the side.

“I won’t need it.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Show me what you got.”

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Dean groans and looks up from his spot on the floor.

“Let’s make this more interesting. If I win, I get your son,” Lucifer smiles. “If you win, you walk out of here.”

You immediately run at Luficer. You make yourself come across as weak and inexperienced when really, you’re nothing like that. When Carter was a baby, you took self-defense and karate classes to be a better fighter. Monsters were everywhere, and Carter needed you to be able to protect him. This is no different.

When you get a couple of feet from the angel, you drop to your knees and slide on the wood floor toward him. He goes swinging to hit you but you drop out of the line of his attack. It’s cliche, but you punch Lucifer right where the sun doesn’t shine as hard as you can. He doubles over in pain as you hop to your feet. You jump onto his back when he is hunched over so that your entire body is wrapped around him. You wrap your arm around his neck to put him in a chokehold and tighten your grip.

“Angel or not, you men still have the same weaknesses.”

The cross necklace you always wear touches the back of his neck and his flesh sizzles from the contact. Before he has a chance to attack you, you yank the necklace off and shove it right into his face. The cross comes into contact with his eyes, and Lucifer howls out in pain. He grabs your arms and throws you off him from the front. You go flying over him and onto the ground and you groan in pain from where your head made contact with the floor.

Dean struggles against the rope but there is no way he’s getting out of those without help. Lucifer wants to use his powers but he is a man of his word. He rears his fist back to pummel your face when you roll out of the way at the last second. You scramble to your feet and reach into your pocket for one of the weapons you snagged from the Bunker.

They are Enochian Brass Knuckles. You read that these hurt even Lucifer and weaken him, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do to him. Lucifer rushes at you but you punch him in the jaw with the brass knuckles on your hand. He is flown back by the impact and into the table containing a bunch of documents.

You walk over to him and punch him in the nose, effectively breaking it. You step on his chest and apply pressure. The power from the brass knuckles is enough to take him down since they severely weaken even the strongest of archangels. Lucifer coughs and gasps from the pressure but doesn’t have enough strength to get you off him.

“Stay the fuck away from my son or I’ll do more than just punch you.” You get off him only to punch him in the chest with the brass rings. That seems to be enough to keep him down, and you turn to the demons who watch with wide eyes. “Anyone else want to go?” All four demons make the smart decision and smoke out of their bodies. You turn to Dean who is seriously impressed with your skill. You take out your pocket knife and cut him free of the ropes. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way his heart flutters when you say “home”. The entire ride back home is silent since neither of you knows what to say. Sam has been early waiting for your return so when he hears the car come into the garage, he rushes out to you.

“What happened?” he asks when he sees the state both of you are in.

“I beat the hell out of Satan but not before he got in a few on Dean. Where’s Carter?”

“Asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go to the infirmary.”

“Y/N, I’m fine.”

“You’re going to the infirmary.”

Dean knows better than to argue with you. You take him down to the infirmary where you’re able to patch him up. He has cuts on his face that you get to work on cleaning, and he sits still and watches you. He’s done a good job of bottling his feelings up when it comes to you but after seeing what you did tonight, it causes that door to bust open. He can’t help himself when he lowers his head and cries.

“What’s wrong? Are you still bleeding?”

“I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds so small, and you know exactly what he’s talking about. Your heart hurts but you let him continue while you lift his face and clean his wounds. “I am so sorry for what I said to you. I never meant it.”

“Then why did you say it?” you ask quietly.

“Because I’m insecure. Everyone around me dies and I didn't want you to end up that way. I knew you wouldn’t have left so I said shit that would make you leave. I saw what you did back there. You’re not a bad hunter. I never meant for any of this to happen. I am so sorry.”

You set down the bloody rag and grab a cotton swab for the hydrogen peroxide. It’s minutes before you’re able to respond.

“Who are we kidding? I was a pretty bad aim back then,” you chuckle. “I couldn’t hurt a fly much less a monster.”

You dab the wet cotton swab on his wounds, and he hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry I missed out on our son’s life. I wish I could take it back.”

You sigh and put your cleaning supplies away. You grab a small butterfly bandaid to put over the largest cut over his cheekbone.

“Well, I guess staying here wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carter loves it here… and so do I,” you whisper.

Dean catches you're eyes and smiles.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.” You stick your hand out to him. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you closer to him.

“Come here,” he smiles.

His kiss awakens something in you. His kiss is like coming up for air after being underwater for so long. His kiss is like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. His kiss is like stretching after being in one position for too long. His kiss is like scratching the itch that’s been bothering for you hours.

His kiss is like… home.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bigshymen]

You do male reader right 🌚🌚 this is the same person who gave you a heads up about the tags (🍪🍪)”sorry if I came off a little rude but I wanna request something 😭🙏🏾

But if so can I get a Sam sulek x male reader where the reader and sam are like gym rivals but like they secretly like each other but won’t tell one another but one a guy or a girl flirts with the reader and sam gets jealous you can finish all from there smut or fluff is good. ( like I said last time have a great day and night 🩷)

You didn’t come off as rude at all don’t worry! (this was originally going to be a one shot buttt i got a little carried away with it 😅) Enjoy!

SAM SULEK X BODYBUILDER RIVAL MALE READER (PART 1)

sam sulek x male reader

summary : a friendly-ish rivalry between you and fellow bodybuilder and crush, sam sulek, quickly turns sour when someone else gets involved.

no smut , jealousy, swearing , pinning , rivals to a little something-something , unresolved feelings , eventual comfort and fluff ( trust ) , i hate the oblivious character trope

You swore you weren’t obsessed.

You swore it when you got out of bed in the morning on weekends. Swore it when the first place you hit was the gym. Even swore it when the secondary and only primary thought in your head was him.

Over the sounds of the gym equipment and the grunts of the people working out, there was only one sound you really heard. Sam Sulek.

Around his initial rise to fame, you had been keeping tabs on his content for a bit. The 21yr old bodybuilder impressing you with his obsessive-like discipline and dedication to the sport. You actually wanted to befriend him at first, seeing as you and him both go to the same local gym and have common goals, but that changed.

You’d always had a tight knit friend group of fitness influencers, some having known you since childhood. But since Sam came onto the scene, suddenly he was hot shit now.

They were practically crowding over each other to get a piece of him. Collabs, pictures, autographs… and suddenly you were irrelevant.

Late nights at the ice cream parlor after workouts and group bowling with your friends morphed into crashing at Sam’s after hours and them ditching you to hang out with the HOSSTILE team.

It seemed like they were always busy whenever you wanted to hang with them, texts left on delivered, and voicemails never returned so on and so forth.

You felt abandoned. You thought about joining them and their Sulek-craze but your pride haulted you. As hurt as you felt, there was only room for one renowned bodybuilder here and he just stepped into your territory.

You assured yourself that he had nothing on you as you had been in the game longer, hence you were more seasoned. But his already massive physique at such a young age just poured more salt in the wound.

Although you knew basing your self worth on the opinions of others would only result in you losing in the end, with the type of “friends” you had, envy and resentment only clouded your view.

Despite your well veiled animosity towards the man, he was nothing but friendly to you. Of course, nice guy Sulek was loved and praise endlessly by his supporters and fans for being so humble and just the totally perfect guy.

Was the jealousy obvious now?

It didn’t help that he was also extremely attractive. You didn’t consider yourself bad looking, but next to Sam? He was the perfect combination of boyish and masculine features. Wide, gorgeous brown eyes, full lips that seemed to always have the sides perked up, but simultaneously the jawline and cheekbones akin to a lumberjack-man.

His cheekbones perfectly contoured the acne-scarred plains of his face, and underneath them his reasonably long, bare and sharp jawline curtained by his pretty curls made him sorta resemble a super ripped fairytale prince.

No wonder he was popular with virtually everybody he met. Despite his massive bodybuilder trademarked-muscles the dude was a supersized teddy bear. Hell, a big baby. Who else drinks that much chocolate milk?

What’s worse was that you kind of liked that. More then you wanted your friends back, you wanted his attention. His admiration. You already had made a name for yourself in the industry, and this guy was already trying to take your spot.

The smiles he flashed you when he caught you looking his way gave a pit in your gut, butterflies flying out of your ass whenever he waved you over. But you never did. You always denied his attempts to get to know you, opting for a cold and mysterious persona in contrast to his chummy one.

Apparently, it made you all the more magnetic because to your friends confusion, he became a regular on-looker to your gym workouts. He even went as far to try to out-lift you, Haha!

You had to give it to him, he was trying hard. Some fans even noticed how similar his personal technique he was utilizing became to yours. You would be flattered, if he didn’t seem to mock you as another hit after basically robbing you of your friend group.

Even so, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling the way you did towards him, anger aside. It was almost impossible to hate the guy. From his looks, additude, and personality… he had you geeking like a teenage girl while watching his videos.

You considered twirling your hair and laying stomach down on the bed while you rocked your muscular legs back in forth to his car talks, giggling whenever he looked at the camera. Positively cooked.

To not entertain these thoughts for longer, you worked even harder at the gym. Trying to forcibly throw him out of your mind, you focused on your gains and nothing else.

For awhile this worked. You curbed the urge to watch his videos and learned to tune him out at the gym. You even met someone new, a fitness guru named Mia who apparently took a liking to you. Don’t get it wrong, you wanted to make new friends and.. maybe get a girlfriend but you knew deep down that’s what your head wanted, not your heart.

And right now the heart wanted some Sulek.

It was subtle at first—smiles here and there. Compliments. You liked the attention you’d admit, but it wasn’t hers you wanted. No doubt she was pretty. All toned muscle, and you could tell those youtube glute workouts payed off. Always looking put together, clear and tanned skin coupled with perfect french tips every time you saw her. Has she ever had a bad hair day?

It came to a head after a hard workout one morning when Mia approached you as you wiped down a bench you had been using previously.

“Great pump today, right?” She praised, her voice warm as it always was.

“Yeah. You too,” you praised back, trying to keep a casual tone.

“Hey, so I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink at the 24th cafe across the street? Would love to pick your brain about some training tips.”

Her invitation took you aback and you couldn’t help but hesitant. Your eyes darted around the gym and just behind Mia, on a machine was Sam. It seemed he was already laser-focused on you when you met his gaze, expression unreadable. It was like a new tension had been released into the air around you, like an airborne virus.

You knew it would be wrong to lead her on when you weren’t really interested, so you didn’t. You still went out to eat with her, accompanied her on hikes, and even met her rowdy french bull dog, Cookie. All while remaining extremely buddy-buddy with her.

All of the time you spent with her in and out of the gym made you happier. She was funny, smart, and really passionate about maintaining physical fitness. With the absence of your former friends, it seemed like the higher power sent her your way as a trade off for your lonely days.

At the same time, every time you laughed with her and she spotted you, you could feel like you had eyes burning into the back of your skull. Now that you thought about it, Sam hadn’t smiled at you or even acknowledged you in how long?

One by one, your friends that previously hanged around him like groupies completely disappeared and he was working out again by his lonesome. To you it looked like the problem solved itself.

That was until a clip of one of Sam’s car talks appeared on your fyp (you thought you had pressed not interested about a thousand times.) that looked pretty recent. You went to click the not interested option again before the caption caught your eye. It read “Sam Sulek is HEARTBROKEN.” Shamefully, you were intrigued, so you kept watching although you expected it to be merely dumb clickbaity nonsense.

“…You guys know I generally take a stoic approach to working out, because it’s a long term thing. I spoke about how, you know, doing this because your girlfriend left you or to prove something like shit ‘oh I’ll show them’ isn’t sustainable.”

He looks into the camera with a solumn expression before the video cuts ahead.

“ …but I’ll admit. I’ve been going through something…” (cut)

“Don’t make fun of me, but I’ve had a bit of a gym crush for awhile now and they’ve met someone and I think their dating.” He abruptly pauses before continuing, “I’m hurt, of course, and I channeled that into my workouts but like I said it’s not good for you in the long run…”

What?

No way.

Noooo way.

You didn’t like the places this was taking your brain. There was a possibly. And would it be wrong to assume? But there was a number of people at the gym. And his behavior does track… but you’re not over him, and your head’s desperate clawing at straws to connect the dots of delusion will only make you more unhappy.

You turned off your phone.

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 18 - Again & Again

prev - chapter 1

Twenty eight years ago, Joel Levi was suddenly given a nine month period to rethink every single one of his interactions with his twin brother, and how they'd lead to the events of the current day.

Sure, Hosah- the first one, was missing, but still, he remained hopeful. There had to be a reason why nobody in his apartment building had seen him in days, why he had shown up to work and left no trace of clocking out, nor clocking back in the following morning. Maybe he got a last minute opportunity and forgot to remind everyone in his life, maybe he got caught up in a crazy night out with his coworkers, maybe he decided to take a secret vacation. There were all of these possibilities, but as days turned into weeks, and weeks faded into months, the chance of him coming back had reduced to zero, especially after someone had spotted the tiniest red stain on the carpet of his office building.

The eighties were a different time, you could smoke in public enclosed spaces, seatbelts weren't mandatory til '87, and shifters could go missing without a trace and the world would continue as it was. Sure, it was better than it was during his own childhood in the sixties, but there was still a ways to go when it came to keeping the shifter population alive and well. As Joel's life was torn apart right in front of his eyes, it felt as if no one around him were even in the same universe as him, as if they all lived in a parallel world were Hosah was still there and acting his usual self, whereas his twin was being forced to suffer in the eternal mental state of grief and loss, despite never having left at all.

His wife falling pregnant shortly after his disappearance seemed all too coincidental, too perfect. She called it a miracle, a blessing, but he called it a curse. A life for a life. As much as it pained him, he knew this was his second chance. Another chance at keeping Hosah safe, even if he were in a different body, and technically, an entirely different person. It wasn't until his son had grown up a little, developed more of an identity and a personality, when Joel Levi realised this wasn't sacrificial situation, this was reincarnation.

The first feeling he held towards Hosah, his son, was resentment. He was his baby, sure, but he also took away his other half, the person who he shared a brain, a womb and a soul with, his twin brother. And for that, he hated him. He hated him so much he could barely even look at him. But, as the days passed, he started to resemble the original Hosah more and more.

Calling out Hosah's name felt like a slip-up sometimes, as if he'd called him by one of his brothers names. Sometimes he'd address Hosah as if he were his brother without even realising the mistake, sometimes he'd do it on purpose. It wasn't like there was much of a stark difference between the two. Looking at his son from a certain angle, or just getting a glimpse of his face in the corner of his eye, felt like a total blast into his own childhood, the two were so irrevocably similar that their entire personhoods could be interchangeable, and Joel Levi wasn't afraid to do as such.

Given the chance to 'redo', learning from all of his past mistakes, Hosah's father had become quite the controlling man. It came out of a place of love, that was evident, but even so, he couldn't help but need to be a part of his sons every move, in his business, and most importantly, by his side physically.

As his father, Joel felt as if it were his right to a sense of ownership of his son. Yeah, you might not like being grabbed without warning, being told you're made of glass and you're not to leave within a six foot radius of me despite being an adult, but I'm your father and I have a right to your safety and your entire being. He'd left home at a young age for the exact same reason, but he was his fathers son too, after all, and repeating a deadly cycle would just have to be a given as long as it ensured the same mistakes wouldn't be made again.

New York was going to be a massive problem. Sure, twenty three years had passed by then, since his brother's disappearance, the world and its laws had changed, New York being one of the most progressive at the time in terms of rights and accommodations for shifters, especially in comparison to Colorado, but that didn't ease Joel's nerves in the slightest.

It didn't help that Hosah wasn't a man of his words either. The one condition that he'd allowed his son to actually take charge of his own life for would be to call him every day. Not every other day, not once a week. Every. Single. Day. Even hours after his daily phone call, Joel would sit and worry. Lots can change in less than a day, he'd called his own brother and spoke to him for a good twenty minutes the day he'd disappeared. He'd offered to reverse the call, he'd offered to make the calls brief, he'd even offered to cover Hosah's phone bills entirely just as long as he kept in close contact, but it seemed his life was just far too busy to be concerned about his father's worries.

The most he could do was hope and pray that this new roommate would keep him in line. That he'd carry him around and dote on him just as he'd done himself all those years ago.

It was this time of year when Hosah thought about his dad a lot. He thought about the times as a teenager on his weekends home where he'd sit at the dinner table with his mother in the dead of the night, the very rare times where she'd allow him to have a glass of wine with her, and all the things she would tell him about life before his existence. One recollection that stuck with him, which he still regularly thought about to this day, was how on the day Joel Levi found out his brother was most definitely dead, he just up and left for three straight days. This was before mobile phones, so Ahnjong, Hosah's mother, just had to call bar to bar, house to house, neighbour to neighbour asking if they'd seen him. By the first night, she assumed he'd drank himself stupid and decided to kip at one of his friends's house for the night, by the second night she'd thought maybe he'd found another woman to fuck his feelings out on, and by the third night, she could only pray he was cheating instead of dead in a ditch somewhere.

Learning this tidbit from his father's life made Hosah see him in an entirely different way. When he'd be grabbed suddenly in a single hand, he didn't think of his father as the strong, constant figure he had before, but as another man, another person with deep rooted feelings and traumas much like himself. As much as he hated it, Hosah felt bad for him, especially when he'd crawl into his bed, asking for his son to just call him Joel instead, and that they were brothers, remember?

Hosah still felt the ghostly touch as arms wrapped around his waist when he laid in bed that night, he'd call out in his half-awoken state; "Dad?"

"..What?" The voice behind him whispered, a familiar breath brushing against his earlobe. Right. Hosah wasn't fifteen, or in Colorado anymore, and he hadn't spoken to his father in days.

Instead of saying anything, the shifter wallowed in his embarrassment for a moment, still trying to fully awaken from such a deep sleep. Lately, going to bed felt like dying. Usually he was a light sleeper, waking up a hundred times throughout the night, always on edge, never fully unconscious, but ever since he'd moved in with Teddy, he hadn't failed to sleep through the whole night. Maybe it was the fact he was now on a proper mattress with a built up bed frame for the first time in five years, or maybe it was the fact he actually felt safe for once.

"Were you dreaming?" The voice asked again, it was Teddy, of course it was, who else enclosing around the shifter's rugged form would make him feel so excited and flushed as opposed to the sense of fear that usually came with such an embrace.

"If I was," Hosah sighed, stretching as he turned his body to face the man beside him, "I can't remember what it was about."

His memory had been getting worse, to be honest. Days just sort of began to blur together. It was the routine that was really killing him. Wake up, talk for a while, get dressed, get the tube to work, stare at the desk for seven or eight hours, go home, go to sleep. Every day, never to vary. Hosah felt more like a machine than a person, most of the time he wasn't even necessarily lost in thought, just in an entirely different plane of reality, in which everything is pitch black and dead silent, just to snap back and be in the next day. He thought maybe that was his uncle taking over for a bit, living vicariously through his body like a sock puppet. Hosah didn't mind it so much when he thought about it that way.

One thing he could remember being on his mind, though, was his old apartment. Partially due to the stress of ending a lease early and actually going to pack things away and moving them over to Teddy's place, but mostly in anticipation of what would be at his doorstep. Maybe there'd be another pile of letters and notes, maybe there'd be a gun on the countertop again, hell, maybe the myth and the legend that was his stalker in the flesh would be waiting for him. It was the fact he didn't know what exactly would be there, if anything at all, that killed him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it would've pained him to think the stalker had moved on. They were allegedly following that other shifter, Constantine, home too. Was Hosah boring now? Wasn't he good enough? Were they not as infatuated with him as they lead on, was it all a red herring after all? To anyone else, these would've been the kind of thoughts that would put their minds at ease, but for Hosah, they only stressed him out to the point of nausea even more.

The image of his painted door and the supposed pile of letters he, despite conflicting feelings, secretly wanted to be waiting for him stayed as a constant, almost like it was burned into his eyelids, as he saw that door in dark rooms, when his eyes were closed, when he'd loose focus on what he was looking at, but especially in his dreams. All he could do was sit and wait for things to get worse, as the police had instructed him to do, as Jeanne told him to do. Anyone else would be infuriated at this kind of response, and a part of Hosah was upset, but the other side of him enjoyed this fate. It was something the shifter indulged in often, the state of sitting and waiting for danger to come and bite him in the ass. He could move if he wanted to, he could get up and run away if that's what he truly desired, but honestly, he'd rather be a victim than the one that got away. A butterfly trapped in a spiders web, or probably something more like a moth, Hosah shared more similarities with the invasive species.

Hosah couldn't really be mad, because he'd do it to himself. When life got too good, too comfortable, he always found himself running back to the arms of harm and abuse. It was what he knew best, after all, it's why falling in love with Teddy scared him so badly. Things were bound to get too happy, too great, too perfect, and the shifter wouldn't be able to handle it, and he'd end up hurting more than just himself in the process of allowing himself to enjoy the good parts of life. Maybe he was just ungrateful, too caught up in some kind of victim complex, unable to cope in life without something for people to find sympathy in about his situation, or maybe he was just deeply troubled, and these patterns could be ironed out of him. That was the scariest part, actually. The thought that maybe there was no getting better, this was Hosah's final form, this was him at his best. If that were true, he really, really didn't want to know what his worst were to be.

The shifter had gotten so lost in the deep and existential pit of his mind that he'd forgotten the fact he was still laying in bed with his face pressed into Teddy's chest, feeling his entire world suddenly become shifted as the man he used to lean on finally rose out of the piles of pillows and blankets, reminding Hosah that he did in fact have to contribute to society today. Shrinking sounded really good right about now, but he had stuff to do, so it'd have to wait.

-~-

"Hmm," Jeanne thought over he shifter's request for a moment, before ultimately deciding to give it a stern "No."

"Seriously? Why not?" Hosah hadn't actually been to the bar in a while, it used to be every night, but money had been tight, so just as Teddy arrived in his life, it turned to every other night, then once a week, now not at all.

"I've been sober for almost three weeks now. Not even a cigarette." Jeanne's face didn't usually turn so easily, but he looked so genuinely proud of himself as he explained the situation.

"Damn." Hosah whistled, "Thierri, what about you, do you wanna come?"

The shifter knew the answer just from the way Thierri's eyebrows titled down, his eyes moving to the other side of the room as he sighed a prolonged "Well.."

"Okay, whatever, it's cool, I'll go ask.. Jules or something." Eugh. Going out for drinks with Jules was never a good idea. Hosah considered her his best friend, sure, but god could he not stand her, especially when they weren't on work time.

His and Jules' relationship was complicated, to say the least. They'd met almost immediately after Hosah had experienced possibly the most traumatic event of his life, which is probably what kept their friendship so cemented for so long despite them barely even having anything in common. He knew from the moment they locked eyes, that he'd never be able to shake her off, even if they spent years apart on different sides of the world, that one day, she'd be at his doorstep in the middle of the night, and he'd let her in.

And there she was, like she knew he'd be looking for her. In all of her glory, leant over at the shifters desk as she spoke to his partner, in her knee high tights and grey pencil skirt that would probably be considered too short for any other office space, her hair tied back in an effortlessly perfect bun, a pen poking out of it for the aesthetics more than the fact she didn't have anywhere else to put it. She looked back, probably knowing he was stood there the whole time. One feature of hers that always captured Hosah's attention was her high nose bridge, as he stared at her three quarter profile before knowing what to say exactly. Her whole face looked so perfectly and intricately carved, as if whoever made her was intentionally trying to make a Frankenstein's monster of sorts to create the most beautiful person to walk the earth. She could walk out the building and pick up modelling whenever she wanted, but something kept her stuck in the shit-hole that was the agency.

"Jules." He finally spoke, "Let's go out for a drink tonight."

Her face was all the confirmation he needed.

The remaining hours of the work day passed by as fast as they did every other day, which was gruellingly slow as Hosah couldn't snap his mind out of airplane mode, sitting stagnant without a single thought passing through his head as he'd sit unmoving, staring at his hardwood desk and whatever pile of untouched papers that lay spread out across it.

It was only a matter of time before one drink turned into two, which turned into a round of shots, until the pair were eventually told to get gone as they could barely walk in a straight line out of the door, their arms intertwined as they usually ended up when they went out together, just like the good old days.

"So.." Jules leant her head back onto the shifter's shoulder, her hair being long let down from the previous slick back style it was once in, "How have you been holding up lately?"

Hosah didn't really know how to answer these kinds of questions truthfully. "I've been fine."

"Yeah, but you haven't though, you might think no one's watching, that no one can tell, but I can tell. I know you better than I know myself. I know when somethings wrong with you." To say she'd drank the most out of the two, Jules was surprisingly coherent, although she could drink like a fish, he recalled, unlike himself.

"Being stalked is stressful. I'm allowed to be a little out of it." Hosah wasn't really paying attention to how cold his tone had become.

"Never said you weren't allowed to be going through it." Jules was used to the shifter becoming more distant, and in a way, a lot sharper in terms of his speech when he had drank. The proper way to go about it was to laugh his annoyance off. "I get it. Was thinking about just taking you off the case entirely, but no one's allowed to do stuff for your own good, are they?"

"They are. People do stuff to protect me all the time, assuming I can't handle myself or.. whatever."

"See. Looking out for you is insulting to you. You know it. You go through hell and you don't let anyone do anything about it because.. Well, you like it." She was right, completely, and her brutal honesty in her intoxicated state only caused the shifter to tense up even more than he constantly already was.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He absolutely knew exactly what she was talking about.

Jules laughed, so hard in fact that she stopped walking completely. "You're stupid. Hosah, you need to be the victim so badly, that you get yourself into the worst kinds of trouble, and you sit there and endure it, for what? So you can complain about it? So you can be shitty but 'oh it's okay because I've had a hard time', huh?"

This is why the shifter hesitated to ask to go out, but honestly, he needed to get away from Teddy for a few hours, so badly that he'd almost forgotten what Jules got like in theee situations. "I didn't purposefully ask to be stalked. You're being mean"

"But you purposefully asked those.. actual creeps, to fuck you, right? I bet you haven't even told Edward about it. You probably should. Probably contracted some disease from those sickos, need to get it checked out really."

Their arguments that stem from nothing had gone far before, but never this far. She could hurl insults far worse than what she'd said his way, but bringing Teddy into it felt a hundred times worse.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't.. Don't talk about him."

"You think no one knows, what you're really like. You're just a bitch, honestly. You think he seriously, truly, genuinely loves you? He doesn't even know you. Let me guess, he doesn't know about Chris, he doesn't know about this exact- fucking bar, and all the guys in it that you've-"

"Stop it, Jules."

"What? What's wrong? I'm only being honest. I care about you, that's why I need to be hard on you, because you don't see the world like I do. You're.. I don't know, fucking, delusional or something. You're not right in the head, and all I'm doing is trying to protect you, because I actually love you. I can see these things, Hosah. I can see when things are gonna go bad, you know I can, I've done it before and I'll do it countless times again."

Hosah shoved his boss off of his side, taking large, shaky steps away from her as she ranted.

"I'm going home."

"You'll thank me in the long run." Jules shouted after him, as the shifter walked away.

In all honesty, he kind of wished his stalker was lurking through the unlit alleyways that surrounded the shitty bar he used to frequent, maybe their undying love for the shifter would cause a massive attack on Jules for all the shit she'd just said to him. No, no matter what Jules said to him, Hosah couldn't say he hated her, or wished any harm on her. All she was telling was the truth, after all. Pretty soon, he would have to come clean about his past to Teddy. Just not yet. Definitely not yet. So what, he was in his twenties, in New York City, people get up to no good, it's normal. That's what he'd told himself, at least.

No matter how badly he wanted to turn back and tell Jules he loved her too and he'd just had too much to drink, he didn't. Maybe that's why he'd actually stayed for so long, she had a way to make Hosah truly believe her piles upon piles of insults she'd hurl his way were all just methods to show him just how much she cared. He could think of a few words that'd match her pretty well too, manipulative, cruel, vindictive, but at the end of the day, it was her that'd let him in if he were to show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night.

It took a good five minutes of aimless wandering for Hosah to realise he'd probably have to call a taxi home, his walk speed significantly slower than what it'd usually be, and his head spinning so fast he could barely tell his left hand from his right. He stood to the side, opening up his phone and flicking through the contacts. There was only one number he'd wanted to call, only one voice he wanted to hear on the other side of the line.

"..Hosah? Are you on your way back?" The voice crackled through the speaker of the phone.

"I need you to come get me."

And that was that.

In all honesty, Hosah had no idea how Teddy had found him. All he gave on the phone was the name of the bar, and the pair had walked good ten minutes away from it by the time the shifter decided enough was enough. But there he was, on the other side of the street, presumably with Felix in the yellow taxi. That was good. Hosah liked Felix, even if the nickname 'Pupa' was probably supposed to be offensive. The shifter was too exhausted to really care about being called it as he took the seat besides where Teddy once sat, being escorted by him from one side of the road to the other with an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulder, like he'd float up and away if Teddy were to let go. He was drunk, not dying.

"Are you okay, Hosah?" Teddy asked as the car began to move back to their apartment at last.

He couldn't say anything. He seriously could not say a thing, he couldn't risk it. "Got into an argument with Jules. It's fine though. I think she just needed to blow off some steam, and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Hosah didn't know how much longer he could make excuses for her. She'd bring up the worst moments of his life just to prove a point, and not even a good one at that. That she loved him and would always be looking out for him. Yeah, right. What happened to looking out for him when she enabled him to get into the situations she ridiculed him for getting into in the first place?

"What about?" The question was innocent enough, but it didn't fail to cause Hosah's stomach to flip turn every which way.

"I.. Don't even know, taking us off the case, I think. She called me a bitch. Hah, I mean, come on.. Even said that- that there's no way you could actually love me. Like.."

"Seriously?"

Shit, he'd said too much.

"Don't.. Don't listen to her. I don't care, anything you do or say, or have done, I'd still love you. She's just, I don't even know, I don't know what problems she has, but you don't listen to her."

Hosah regretted even wanting space away from Teddy in the first place. Sure, it was suffocating, being constantly surrounded by the overwhelming feelings the man gave him, never having true alone time to process them, but that didn't matter. He'd rather drown in Teddy than come up for air, just to see he was gone from his line of sight. Nothing else mattered, not right now, at least. Not Chris. Not the bar. Not Jules, and not even the stalker that was surely tailing behind them.

[swagglessmoth]

One of the things that I LOVE about Shadows Blinding and marks it as one of my favourite fics ever, is the relationship between Sakumo and Kakashi.

Lots of spoilers (obviously)

In most fics, Kakashi’s feelings towards Sakumo aren’t really explored in a complex way. Mostly they go as far as him missing his father, we see his grief and loneliness deepening with each lose of a loved one over the years, until as an adult he heals and grows to understand his father’s decision and forgiving him. Which is completely okay! I love those fics, I love the progress as we see Kakashi healing over time. But most that I’ve seen don’t usually dwell into Sakumo’s suicide that much and the heavy impact it would have on a child at that age, that would later follow them to adulthood. Choosing instead to focus on the impact either team Minato or team 7 had on his life (which, fair, it is A LOT, but you get my point).

In Pesto’s (author) interpretation, things go a bit differently: Kakashi does miss his father, but at the same time he still deeply resents him for what he did, just like he did when he was a kid and trying to not be like his father. Except he hasn’t exactly grown out of this bitterness. For scarring him for life and leaving him alone at such a young age; for sending him to what’s essentially a cult, leaving him trapped with a family he’s not familiar with; for leaving such a deep mark, that even if he tries to escape him and the clan, they’re in every little part of his life. Such as his most signature quality, his mask, only existing because Kakashi reminded Sakumo of his brother. He hates all of this.

This Kakashi never healed from what happened, so caught up in all the deaths happening around him that he never really had time to even process it. He doesn’t even allow himself to miss his father because of all this resentment, and that’s not something that just goes away. This is why I love his relationship with Kosuke, the way Kakashi wishes he’d allowed himself to miss his father despite what he did like Kosuke does. (OH AND THAT SCENE THEY HAD AT THE END. KOSUKE MISSING KAKASHI IN SPITE OF THAT HE DID, LIKE HE MISSES HIS FATHER 😭😭😭😭😭 OUGHH IT’S SO SADD ❤️‍🩹🥀⛓️🚬🐺)

That sense of hate is engraved in him, and it is amplified by the fact that Sakumo giving him that seal essentially made him loose everything he’s known and loved once again. His whole world is destroyed, the people he loved have forgotten about him (also they are dead) (and let’s not even mention Obito). All this time he’s had his team as a source of light at the end of the tunnel, something to fight for. But he’s lost that, and with his clan that’s basically a cult and that wrinkly bitch Nana running around ruining everything, he really has nowhere to go. That one split-second decision, even if done in good faith, ruined his life.

«Tou-san fucked up» indeed (or however the quote went I don’t wanna look it up)

YOOO THAT’S WHY THE SEQUEL’S GONNA BE FIREE 🔥 🔥🔥🔥 Kakashi expecting to come back to a wasteland and being prepared to start digging graves for his dead friends (everyone bro) and instead finding an alternate-timeline Sakumo. We’re getting that deeply awkward and uncomfortable father-son bonding YEAHH 💪💪

Oh and don’t even get me started on this new timeline bro. How baby Ino appearing in the epilogue implies that this is at a point in time shortly after what would’ve been the Kyubi attack (we don’t know how Kannabi went so idk if it even happened) Rin and Obito would be around 14, 16 max. And Minato and Kushina would be around 22-24. Kakashi here is like 30, he is NOT getting his team back. And that’s without counting that with Kakashi dying by birth on this universe, there would be another kid in his place. Knowing that no other kid their age was jounin at the time, they might’ve not even been assigned for the Kannabi Bridge mission or at least done it with Minato, which already elevates their chances of survival.

He might not even get to meet team 7 personally. They’re babies rn and he’s a complete stranger to the village, a stranger on Kage level might I add (I don’t think it’s too far fetched to say that, he’s VERY powerful now, and he did become the sixth hokage without this power-up so 🤷‍♂️). They’re NOT letting him near the babies bro ❌😿

He’s alone with his father (whom he kind of hates and doesn’t know) in a world that doesn’t know him AT ALL. We have all the time in the world for group therapy, Kakashi’s gonna be demanding ANSWERS. Or maybe he’ll say “fuck this” and become a kind-of-missing-nin-but-not-really-bc-he’s-not-from-THIS-Konoha that stalks the village to make sure his loved ones don’t die this time. Yeah, I could see that happening tbh.

Idk I’m just ranting, this is gonna be messy and I’ll love every second of it 💞

[fernandesart]

I have a lot of ideas for my Swan/Bat Prince AU so I also try writing them down, because I can't possibly draw it all. The version I have is a little different from the movie because it just wouldn't work otherwise. Also, this isn't the final version, there are still some parts that I want to work out differently I just don't know how yet:')

Eddie first met Steve when the latter was only a baby. He doesn’t remember anything about it since he was barely two years old himself. Uncle Wayne had been invited, alongside all the other lords, kings and queens in the neighboring kingdoms, to come see the first born of the Harringtons. He had brought his nephew along, because apparently Eddie really wanted to see the new baby. Wayne has never been the type to reminisce, but he does love telling Eddie all about how he taunted Steve with his necklace, one that Eddie got on the day he was born, holding it aloft just a tiny bit too high for Steve’s grabby baby hands.

When Wayne arrived that day, Steve’s parents assumed that the man had finally gotten an heir to the kingdom. A very young heir, which made it even better in their eyes especially now that they just had Steve. Wayne may not be well loved, due to his rather down-to-earth attitude among pompous rich folk, he did possess something that no other kingdom had: a very big port that can house even the biggest of ships. It’s a great asset to add to your kingdom and one that many would love to take advantage of. That includes the Harringtons. They had approached Wayne that night, with the idea to have their sons become friends by letting them play together each summer. Wayne had turned it down, on the account of Eddie being his nephew and not under his care officially.

All of that changes a mere six years later, when Eddie’s parents become tangled in a criminal affair that leads to Eddie’s dad disappearing behind bars. His mother ran away and left everything and everyone behind. Eddie ends up in the care of his uncle, where he already spent most of his time anyway. When Eddie meets Steve officially for the second time later the first year he spends with Wayne, there’s an instant connection and Steve’s parents take another shot. Wayne is in no position to say no when they once again propose for their two boys to meet every summer since the Harringtons are powerful people. So he agrees, knowing damn well why they are so dead set on having them become friends. However, he’s secretly a little hopeful for his nephew to finally hang out with a kid his own age and maybe create a real friendship out of this arrangement.

Eddie comes to believe Steve is just lonely and that’s why they’re making the two of them hang out each summer. After all, Steve’s parents seem to never be around. In the early days, Steve and Eddie were inseparable from the moment they properly met. Steve looked up to Eddie, who seemed so cool even though he was only two years older. But as the years go by, they come to look at each other as annoyances. At Steve’s parents’ insistence, they keep up the tradition of meeting every summer but Steve starts making new friends outside of Eddie. Friends who are exactly the kind of people that Eddie hates and the kind of people that Eddie is secretly terrified Steve will turn into.

Tommy Hagan is an asshole, even at the young age of only ten years old. Yet, Steve still hangs out with him and doesn’t seem to understand why Eddie doesn’t want to play with them, causing their first ever proper fight. Steve eventually comes to apologize, because he doesn’t want to lose his best friend like that. However, he keeps being friends with Tommy and even gets more friends like that. And soon, Eddie comes to be the lonely one since he refuses to be friends with people who take great joy in humiliating him and making fun of him every chance they get. It stings even more when Steve never jumps to his defense.

Still, the arrangement stays. Eddie spends his first couple of teenage years resenting Steve and missing their friendship, watching on how Steve turns more into a shell of himself with those so called friends of his. But Eddie can’t really change anything about it. Steve is far too easily influenced by Tommy and the likes, meaning he has thrown some hurtful comments Eddie’s way whenever he tries. So, he stopped trying. Instead, he spends the summers in Hawkins writing music in his designated room, reading books in Steve’s massive library and hanging around uncle Wayne like a monkey. But he still has his eyes on Steve. Always on Steve, even though he gets more irritating as the summers go by.

When he is seventeen, Eddie feels it for the first time. He was sitting in a little nook outside, watching Steve from a safe distance. Instead of the usual Tommy, a certain Nancy Wheeler was by his side, chuckling at something stupid Steve had said. Nancy had been a new addition to Steve’s squad, a young lady whose noble family had only recently started mingling with the upper-class. The sight made Eddie’s stomach turn and when Steve beams at Nancy, Eddie feels his heart inexplicably break. When the feelings had started, Eddie doesn’t know. All he knows, is that his stupid feelings are pointless and that things between him and Steve will never turn to the way they were, let alone something more.

So Eddie does what he does best, which is to turn away and hide. He all but begs Wayne to not let Steve come over the next year and since Wayne is worried, he messages the Harringtons. Eddie predicably doesn’t hear anything back from Steve. And so, he spends his first summer in ages without Steve in his corner and it makes him less happy than he had hoped.

[breematthewsmybeloved]

Okay there's no way I can succinctly describe my feelings on Bloodmarked as a whole so you're getting a lil character breakdown on my beloved Valec

Valechaz is such a brilliant character, and not just because I'm totally in love with him and desperately want to be his concubine.

First of all, making him the baby was sO SMART on Tracy's part?? Like, it just makes the world feel a little fuller and warmer that he can be tied to North Carolina.

Second of all, he's the tall, dark, and handsome that black kids picture when they hear that description, and that makes my heart sing.

Valechaz being Valec which ties to Valec from The Lesser Keys of Solomon?? so smart. (yes i made that connection from lullabies of demonia, dont judge me)

also I looked up the original demon and its a young, cherub-like, angelic boy on a dragon. Like how Bree literally cant stop describing how Valec looks her age and is several hundred years older.

Valec's ability to be black and have rootcrafters be his family and that not adhering his demon-ness? but it also doesn't make him automatically submissive? Its an impressive balance.

AND ANOTHER THING!! His un-ending empathy. Even when his morals are unclear! Even when he has every reason to hate rootcrafters! Even when Sel has fought and disrespected him in his own bar!

Also his immediate desire to protect Bree is so beautiful. The way he immediately seems to resent Sel for hurting Bree. Even though we don't really know why exactly he's so kind.

[sequinsmile-x]

Hold On To You

It's New Year's Eve, Emily is overdue, and they are going to Dave's house for his annual party. What could possibly go wrong?

-x-

Hi friends!

Happy New Year!! This is a fic based on a prompt I got asking for something where Emily is overdue and goes into labour at Dave's house at New Year's.

As always, I got entirely carried away and this is just shy of 5k words.

I really hope you enjoy this and that you have a good New Year. I just wanted to take the chance to say thank you for all the comments, kudos, likes and reblogs this year - it truly means the world that my writing means something to people.

Here's to another year of me putting these idiots in just about every situation <3

For the last time in 2023, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy, Labour, cursing (but who can blame Emily, she's having a baby on her friend's couch)

Words: 4.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“We don’t have to go, sweetheart.” 

She rolls her eyes at her husband, something he misses entirely because he’s kneeling on the floor in front of her, dutifully tying her shoes with so much care and attention she doesn’t know whether to yell at him or kiss him. She rubs a circle on her belly, shifting on the couch in a failed attempt to get comfortable, something she’d been unable to do for months. 

“We should go,” she says, grunting at a particularly hard kick against her ribs, “Jack is excited to hang out with Henry, and he keeps saying he’ll make it to midnight this year.” 

It was Dave’s annual New Year's Eve party and whilst the idea of getting dressed up and spending her evening anywhere other than home was the last thing Emily wanted to do, she didn’t want to let Jack down. He was, at most, days away from being a big brother, and the last thing she wanted to do was make any potential resentment toward his new sibling start before they were even born. Jack’s initial reaction to finding out Emily was pregnant was less than ideal, his concerns that she would love the baby more than she loved him causing him to act out, to say things he immediately regretted and apologised for. Whilst that was months ago, it was something she still worried about, a seed in the back of her mind that had planted and bloomed, making her almost go out of her way to make sure Jack felt like a part of all of this. 

Aaron smiles up at her as he double loops the laces on her sneakers, “I think we both know he’ll be asleep in one of Dave’s spare rooms by 11 pm,” he stands up and sits next to her on the couch, looping one arm around her shoulders and resting his other hand on her bump, “You know he’d understand, Em.” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “I know, but we should still go,” she says, smiling when she feels the baby move, “Besides, if we stop going to things because I’m massively pregnant we’ll never go to anything again - I don’t think Pickle is ever coming out.” 

He can’t help but hide a smile in her hair at the use of the baby’s nickname, something that their actual name would soon replace. Whilst Aaron would have liked to have found out whether they were having a boy or a girl, Emily had insisted that they waited - wanting nothing more than to find out when her baby was passed to her, a well-earned surprise at the end of a long journey. He let her have the final call, knowing her opinion well outweighed his in matters like this, and instead, they’d settled on a nickname. 

Despite usually hating them, always pulling them out of burgers and handing them to him, she’d been craving pickles since the moment her nausea had stopped at the start of her second trimester. Their fridge was full of jars of them since she now had them with every meal, no matter how strange the combination, so naming their unborn child ‘Pickle’ made sense. 

“Only a couple more days to go until they induce you,” he says, kissing the top of her head, and she pulls back to look at him, her eyes narrowing. She was overdue by almost a week now and she was furious about it, her anger driving her to tears most nights as she struggled to get comfortable enough to sleep. Exhaustion and the almost primal need to hold her baby making her irritable. 

“No more ‘only a couple more days’ talk unless you’re the one with a baby pressing on your organs,” she says, and he nods, swallowing thickly, and she huffs out a short breath, “I don’t remember how it feels to breathe deeply.” 

“Of course,” he says, kissing her cheek, “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

She grimaces as pain washes over her, her belly briefly tight with it and she curses as she squeezes his hand, “Fucking practice contractions,” she grumbles, squeezing his hand tighter until the pain passes, “I’ve been having them all damn day,” she blows out a breath as it passes, “I swear to God if Spencer says something about them being ‘mild’ again I’m going to kill him.” 

Aaron clears his throat to cover a laugh, knowing it would do nothing short of getting him in trouble, and he rubs a soothing circle on her stomach as the tightness eases, “I don’t think he’ll ever say anything to you about pregnancy again after you made him cry last time.” 

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t make him cry,” she denies, even though she knows she had, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she remembers the conversation in question, “And anyway, he should never have called me a geriatric mother.” 

Jack comes bursting into the room before Aaron can say anything, the young boy's excitement palpable as he bounces on his feet in front of them. 

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, and Aaron nods, standing up and chuckling as he ruffles his son’s hair and he tries to dive out of the way. 

“We’re ready, Jack,” he says, digging his car keys out of his pocket and passing them over to him, “Why don’t you go wait in the car - we’ll be out in a minute.” 

Jack nods enthusiastically and runs out of the room, the sound of the front door being pulled open following shortly after. 

“You’re going to need to help me up,” Emily grumbles, smiling softly when she spots Aaron is already holding his hand out to her, “Thanks, honey.” 

She groans as she stands up, only letting go of Aaron’s hand when she’s up as straight as she can be there days. She winces as she presses her hands into her lower back, the ache more persistent than usual, and Aaron looks at her, his brows furrowed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She nods, her lips pressed together as she shifts back and forth on her feet to ease some of the pressure, “I’m fine,” she says, looking down at her outfit and sighing, plucking at the dark green material of her dress, “I look like a blimp in a dress, but I’m fine.” 

He smiles and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place for a moment before he pulls back, “You look beautiful.” 

She hums and shakes her head at him, “You’re a liar, Aaron Hotchner,” she says, stamping her lips against his to stop him from arguing with her, “But I love you for it.” 

She groans quietly as she follows him out of the house, her waddle slowing her down in a way she hadn’t known was possible, the ache in her back not diminishing at all. She runs her hand up and down her bump. 

“Come on Pickle,” she mutters to her baby, unable to stop herself from smiling when she feels a kick that feels like a response, “Let’s go sit on a couch in Uncle Dave’s house for a change of scenery.” 

___

She smiles and listens and laughs at the right moments, but she can’t say she’s enjoying herself. She’s uncomfortable in a way she didn’t know was possible, unable to find any relief at all as she consistently shifts back and forth on the couch. Aaron, whose endless patience for her only seems to irritate her more in a way she knows he doesn’t deserve, goes out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible. He brings her pillows from one of Dave’s bedrooms, positioning them behind her back because he knows it’s better than the cushions from the couch itself, and he gets her whatever food she can stomach. 

She grimaces as another practice contraction starts to build, her grip on Aaron’s knee night as she places her hand there, and the only thing she can think is that she’s incredibly grateful Jack and Henry are in another room playing. 

“Are you okay, Em?” JJ asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her. Emily grits her teeth and nods, blowing out a slow breath as the pain reaches its peak. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling tightly as Aaron places his hand over hers on her knee, “It’s just Braxton Hicks,” she says, her body relaxing as the contraction passes, “I’ve been having them all day.”

“Are…are you sure they are Braxton Hicks?” Spencer asks, looking slightly nervous as everyone looks over at him. He clears his throat before continuing, “Only, they aren’t usually in a pattern. And when you got here they were 12 minutes apart and now they are closer to 7.”

“You’ve been timing her contractions?” Derek asks, frowning at Spencer, “That’s a little weird, Reid. Even for you.”

“It’s a pattern,” Spencer says, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m good at recognising patterns,” he looks back at Emily and cowers slightly under her glare, “I’m just saying, are you sure you’re not in labour?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, pressing her hand into her bump, “I’m not in labour,” she says, the denial sounding weak even to her own ears, and she turns to look at Aaron, “I’d know if I was in labour or not, right?” 

Aaron links his fingers through hers and squeezes her hand reassuringly. As worried as he was, especially because he had a feeling Spencer could be right, he knew this was not the time for him to freak out. He had to be there for his wife. 

“Do you think you could be?” He asks, ignoring the presence of their friends, all of his focus on her, on the way he could see her already frayed nerves coming even more unravelled. 

“I…don’t think I am-” she says, cutting herself off as she looks down at her lap, grimacing at the wet feeling between her legs, “Okay, I definitely am in labour,” she says, sounding much calmer than she feels as she looks back up at Aaron, “My water just broke.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking her up and down. He’s aware of how their friends spring into action, how all of them stand up, but his focus is still on her. 

“Well, either that or I just peed myself on Dave’s couch.” 

“That couch is made of Italian leather,” Dave complains, taking a step back as Emily looks sharply at him, her glare followed by everyone else's, and he nods to himself, “It’s fine, it can be wipe cleaned.” 

Aaron makes sure his stern gaze is fixed on his friend for a beat longer than necessary before he looks back at his wife, “We’ll get you to the hospital, okay?” 

She nods, but her response is cut off as another contraction rolls through her, making her yell out as she grasps his hand, her nails digging into his skin, “Holy shit this one hurts.” 

“That wasn’t seven minutes,” Penelope says, wide-eyed as she looks back at Spencer, “I thought you said you were timing them.”

“I was,” he says, close to stuttering, “But maybe she’s having a precipitous labour,” he says, rolling his eyes when everyone except Aaron looks at him like he’s insane, “A fast labour. It comes on quickly. There are risk factors, including giving birth in an unsterilised environment-” 

“God I regret letting you read my pregnancy books on the jet,” Emily breathes out, cutting him off before he can carry on, her teeth clenched as the contraction barely lets up before she starts to have another one, “Fuck I’m having another one.” 

She rests her head against Aaron’s shoulder, her hands in tight fists around his shirt, and she desperately tries to breathe through it. Everything around her except the pain and him disappears. She’s vaguely aware of Aaron telling Dave to call an ambulance and asking JJ to go get some towels. He then turns his attention back to her, soft words of reassurance against her ear as she grunts. She pulls back to look at him and she’s grateful for how calm he seems, some of her panic eased by the way he looks at her. A sense of serenity that briefly makes her forget she was in what felt like advanced labour on their friend's couch. 

“We need to go,” she chokes out, shaking her head as he holds her steady where she’s sitting, stopping her from standing up, “We need to get to the hospital.” 

“Dave is calling for an ambulance, sweetheart,” Aaron says, cupping her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn’t realised had fallen, “I don’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic with you in this much pain, okay?” 

She hears what he hasn’t said, that this is happening too quickly. That if he was able to get her up, something she wasn’t entirely sure was possible even though she’d tried to stand, it was unlikely he’d get her all the way to the car. Even if he did, there was every chance she wouldn’t make it to the hospital. 

She whimpers, a sound she hates, as she shakes her head at him again, the pain rolling through her unrelenting, “I can’t have a baby here,” she says, “This wasn’t the birth plan. I was meant to be in the hospital, with painkillers and an epidural,” she groans in pain, looking past Aaron to see their friends still just standing there, “And it was meant to just be us.” 

Aaron’s heart fractures in his chest at how vulnerable she sounds. It was something he knew she’d hate, especially in front of their friends, so he knows he has to do something - that he has to give her back some semblance of control of a situation that had rapidly gotten out of their hands. He turns to look at his friends, his expression stern, hoping he leaves no room for argument.

“All of you need to get out of here now,” he says, watching how Derek and Penelope frown, the latter already stepping closer to them, “She doesn’t need an audience for this, so please go keep the kids company, make sure Jack isn’t worried, but get out of here.” They nod and start to leave but he stops them, “Reid, don’t go too far, just stay on the other side of the door, in case we need your help.” 

Spencer nods and follows the others out, pulling the door behind him until it was mostly closed, leaving just a small gap he could talk through if necessary. 

Aaron turns back to Emily and smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging, “See, it’s just us now, okay, baby?” He says and she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to stop herself from yelling out in pain again, tears streaming down her cheeks with the effort. 

“The ambulance is on the way but they said it might take some time,” Dave says through the crack in the door, “They said to examine her and if the baby does come to clear its airways and leave the-”

Aaron can see how every word Dave is saying is making Emily feel worse, the shock setting in on top of the pain she was in, so he cuts him off, even though he knows he’s just trying to help. 

“Thanks, Dave,” he says, his tone of voice making his feelings clear, “Go wait with the others, keep an eye out for the ambulance.” 

There’s a brief pause before Dave replies, JJ’s voice quiet in the background as she talks to him, “The towels are just inside the door for you.” 

Emily looks over at the soft, white, towels that JJ had placed on the floor for them and she groans, “God, we’re going to spend a fortune replacing those towels for Dave.”

“I think he can afford to replace them himself,” Aaron chuckles, his relief at a small flash of his wife peeking through from underneath her fear nothing short of palpable. He kisses her forehead, “I’ll get them, I’ll be right back.” 

She nods, unable to say anything as the relentless pain makes her feel nauseous. She places her hands on her stomach and tries to breathe, “I know I kept saying you needed to get out of there, kid,” she says, choking on a laugh, “But this isn’t what I meant.” 

Aaron walks over to the door and picks up the towels and he looks through the crack in the door. He’s grateful that the only person outside the room is Spencer, who is sitting on the floor, his back to the door, patiently waiting to help if he is needed. 

Aaron turns back to look at his wife, frowning when he sees she’s trying to lean down, her fingers grasping for the laces on her shoes that he’d tied so neatly earlier. 

“What are you doing, Em?” He asks, rushing back over and placing the towels on the arm of the chair. He puts his hand on her leg and stops her, taking over undoing her shoes for her. 

“I didn’t want to get my shoes on Dave’s couch,” she says, reaching out and grasping the sleeve of Aaron’s shirt as the pain gets worse, “Fuck,” she closes her eyes, shaking her head as she feels a lot of pressure, “I think I need to push.” 

“I think this couch is about to have a lot worse than your shoes on it,” Aaron replies, making quick work of taking her other shoe off too, letting them fall to the floor without worrying about tidying them up. He helps her so she’s lying on the couch and he’s sitting between her legs. He shifts so his hand is on her knee, squeezing it so she looks at him, “We need to get your underwear off, okay?” 

She wants to say no, wants to refuse, but she knows she can’t. She knew this baby was coming here and now, the urge to push making her entire body so tense she thought she could shatter into a million pieces. She nods and lifts her hips, letting him pull the material down her legs. 

He stuffs her underwear into his pocket, not wanting her to feel any more exposed than she already would if their friends were to walk in and see her underwear on the floor. He looks up at her when he hears her laugh, a curious look on his face as he tilts his head. 

“I think you did that the night we ended up in this mess,” she says, her hand on her stomach as she nods towards his pocket, “Although I seem to remember that underwear being sexy and not big enough to cover the Potomac.” 

He shakes his head at her and squeezes her knee again, “You look sexy in anything,” he winks at her and she tries to glare at him but it’s lost as a sound that he can only describe as animalistic comes out of her. He remembers that sound, and it briefly pulls him back to when Haley was having Jack. It feels like it happened to a different person, like he was no longer the man who had stood next to Haley’s side and held her hand as she gave birth to their son. He guessed on some level he wasn’t the same man he was different, and he liked to think he was better, “I’m just going to have a look, okay.” 

She nods, stopping him for a moment with a hand on his arm, “Promise me whatever you see down there you’re still going to want to have sex with me after this.” 

He leans in and stamps a kiss against her lips, “Nothing is ever going to stop me wanting to have sex with you, Em.” 

“You guys know I’m still out here, right?” Spencer asks, his voice breaking through the unlikely sanctuary they’d built in Dave’s living room, and they both look at the door sharply. 

“Reid.”

“Spencer.” 

They chastise simultaneously, their only answer silence, and then they look back at each other, and Emily nods, giving Aaron the go-ahead. He pushes her dress up to her hips and pushes her knees apart, blowing out a steady breath before he looks back up at her, hoping he’s been able to cover his own turbulent emotions to his already terrified wife. 

“I can see the head.” 

Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head, her trembling lips pressed together, “No it can’t be…” she drifts off, her head falling back against the couch cushions behind her and she screams, unable to keep it in any longer, “Fuck I think I need to push.” 

“Then you should push, sweetheart,” he says, “The baby is already on the way.” 

She swears that she feels her body take over, the immense pressure and pain forcing her to push even if she didn’t want to. She groans as she falls back, Spencer’s instructions from the other side of the door to slow down when the head comes out just about registering. 

“This sucks,” she says, her breath catching in her chest, her entire body on fire, “This sucks so fucking much.”

“You’re so close, Em,” Aaron says, his eyes fixed on the dark hair on their baby’s head, “So close.”

“That’s easy for you to say you asshole,” she says, outright calling him a name for the first time since this had all started, “You’re not the one giving birth in our friend's living room.” Instead of replying, Aaron takes her hand and places it on the baby’s head, watching as any anger or frustration melts away, her fingers shaking as she touches the baby’s hair, “Oh my God, that’s our baby’s head,” she says, looking up at him, her eyes shining, “That’s Pickle’s head.” 

Aaron nods, leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers, gladly passing her some of his strength, knowing he’d give her all of it if she asked. 

“You’re so close, Em,” he says again, the words actually encouraging this time, and he pulls away, taking his position back in between her legs, “Just one more push.”

She nods and sucks in a breath, bearing down with more strength than she thought she had as she lets out one final scream. She feels her baby slip into the world and Aaron’s waiting hands, and she gasps, the sensation followed by the longest moment of silence in her life. Then the baby cries, loud and squawking and totally furious to be born. Aaron clears the baby’s airways and he lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he looks up at his wife. 

“It’s a boy,” he says, looking back down at his son as he passes him over to Emily, her hands shaking as she takes the baby. 

“It’s a boy?” She asks in disbelief, her eyes fixed on her little boy, her son as she holds him to her, “We have a son,” she looks at Aaron, laughing through the tears that fall onto her cheeks, “Holy shit we have another little boy.”

“No cursing in front of him,” Aaron says, laying a towel over the still crying baby before he shifts to sit behind his wife, enjoying a moment with her and their newborn son before he has to worry about the next stage of all of this. 

“He’s literally two minutes old, honey,” she says resting on Aaron as he sits behind her, “He doesn’t even know where he is, let alone what a curse word is,” she stares at her little boy. He was bright red, his dark hair was glued down to his skin by god knows what, but he was beautiful, “He’s perfect.” 

Aaron kisses the side of her head, “Just like his Mommy,” he says, “I love you.”

She turns to look at him, her eyes shining with love and joy, “I love you too.”

There’s a soft knock on the door, drawing their attention away from each other, Dave’s voice breaking through the little bubble they’d created even though he remains on the other side of the door, “The ambulance is here, JJ is just showing them in now.” 

Aaron squeezes Emily closer, the way she tenses at the mention of other people, her eyes still fixed on the baby on her chest, and he runs his hand up and down her arm, “Thanks, Dave. Can you make sure-”

“Everyone is on the other side of the house with a strict instruction not to come over here until you’re gone.” 

Emily hums, almost talking to herself when she speaks, “I wonder what he had to bribe Pen with to agree to that.” 

“A case of my finest French wine, Bella,” he says, and they both know exactly what smile he has on his face even though they can’t see, “So it’s the couch, the towels and the wine that you owe me now.” 

She knows he’s joking, knows that he’d have given anything to help them through this, so all she does is lean in further to her husband's side as the door is pushed open and the EMTs walk in alone. 

“You can have anything you want, Dave,” she says, stroking her finger up and down her son’s soft cheek, “I have everything I need.” 

___

She’d never experienced peace at a hospital. 

It was always a place of trauma, of grief, but as she looked down at her son’s face as he slept against her, tucked in under her hospital gown, peace was the only word that seemed right. 

“How are you two doing?”

She smiles as she looks up at her husband, who was standing in the doorway having popped out in the hallway to make a couple of calls, the unrelenting joy on his face something she knew was reflected in her own. 

“We’re okay,” she says quietly as Aaron walks over, carefully joining her on the bed. She secures the baby against her as she shifts to allow her husband to sneak in behind her. She winces as she settles against him, offering him a smile as worry flashes across his face, “I’m okay, just very sore,” she scrunches her nose up as she tries to get comfortable, “Getting those stitches was not fun.” 

Once the EMTs had cut the chord and helped Emily deliver the placenta they’d brought them all to the hospital. JJ had agreed to take Jack home for the night, the little boy thankfully very agreeable despite his excitement at his sibling being born. Emily knew she’d be here for a couple of days, the quick labour and delivery meant the doctors wanted to keep an eye on her and the baby, and she was grateful for it - the residual fear that something was wrong even though her son had passed all of his tests with flying colours not quite leaving her alone. 

“Jack is already asleep,” Aaron says, “He and Henry are having a sleepover and the team is raising a glass to us all at midnight.” 

She hums contentedly, “As much as today was not what I wanted,” she says, tearing her eyes away from her son to look at Aaron, “I’m grateful for them,” she smiles softly, “And for the fact they respected our wishes.” 

“I would have barricaded the door if that’s what it took,” he says seriously and she kisses his jaw, pressing her love for him into his skin. The baby cries out and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s soft shushing and her lips against the top of his head enough to quieten him down, “We need a name for this little guy, I don’t think he’d thank us for calling him Pickle in about 15 years,” Aaron says, placing his hand on his son’s back, linking his fingers through Emily’s, “I think the boy name we had picked out works perfectly, don’t you?”

She studies her son’s face, desperate to log every little bit of it to her memory, well aware that these early days that felt long as they were happening would go far too quickly. She smiles and nods, trailing her knuckle softly down the baby’s cheek. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, shifting to kiss her son’s forehead, “Hi Hugo,” she says softly, tears she couldn’t explain if she wanted to gathering in her eyes, “Welcome to the world.” 

A cheer from the nurse's station, muffled by the closed door, draws their attention away from Hugo, and Aaron smiles as he checks his watch. 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, well aware this would be her favourite year yet, “Happy New Year, honey.” 

-x-

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