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tellingtell5 · 5 months ago

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Three Little Birds part. 1 《Nick Blaine, The handmaid's tell》

A short story about Nick Blaine.

Nick Blaine x oc!fmale

Hi: I love The Handmaid's Tale and the relationship between June and Nick, but I couldn't get this story out of my head. I’m always looking for stories about this character, but I never find exactly what I’m looking for, so I decided to write it myself. I hope it reaches someone. Thank you.

Three Little Birds Part 2.

I wish there were a mirror where I could see my reflection. It’s a recurring thought, creeping in when I least expect it. "Vanity is a selfish sin, girl." Aunt Lise’s voice follows the thought, sharp and unyielding. But this isn't just about curiosity—about seeing how they’ve prepared me for what, according to the women around me, should be one of the happiest days of my life, second only to the birth of my future children, of course. It’s about something deeper. It’s been years since I last saw myself. Would I even recognize the person staring back at me? Or would it feel like looking at someone I once knew, someone familiar yet distant, their face blurred by time and memory?

The truth is, I am not happy. I’m not afraid either, nor anxious about the tragic fate that awaits me. I suspect one of the Marthas slipped a narcotic into the tea they served me a few minutes ago. It’s a common practice on occasions like this—just enough to dull the mind, to keep the girls calm, too weary and dazed to resist, but not so much that they’d faint and delay the ceremony. That would be a disaster.

I had always imagined this day differently. In a normal world, I would have chosen my own dress, picked the flowers, planned the menu for the family I would have invited—eager to share my happiness with them. And I would have known the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I would have loved him enough to want to marry him.

Instead, I am in an unfamiliar room, laced into a regal, antique dress that once belonged to another girl before me and will surely be worn by another after me. "Gilead is at war, girls. We cannot afford extravagance for each and every one of you, nor grand ceremonies." And yet, this event is laughably pompous. Today, I and dozens of other girls will be married off to men we have never even seen, in front of Gilead’s most distinguished Commanders, their Wives, the Marthas, and the Handmaids.

I wish I could say I cried, that I screamed, that I fought against being sold like cattle, my worth reduced to my biological function. But I didn’t. Not a single tear fell, despite the weight of my grief. Some might call it resignation, but deep down, I knew the right word was exhaustion. If I made a scene, one of the Aunts would come rushing in to remind me of my privilege. That the only alternative paths available to me were a lifetime of servitude as a Martha, stripped of identity, or as a Handmaid, forced to bear children for another family.

"You are fortunate, given your record," Aunt Lydia had told me when they agreed to arrange a respectable marriage for me as a favor to my father. His position as a trauma surgeon granted him certain influence, even in Gilead’s rigid hierarchy. Otherwise, given my so-called advanced age and my past associations, my fate would have been much worse. By Gilead’s laws, I was an adulteress—a term they used for women with rebellious spirits. Before the uprising solidified its grip, I had been among those raising their voices, protesting as we were stripped of our jobs and our education.

I remember the day they froze my bank account. From that moment on, my father controlled my finances, as the closest male relative. He urged me to come home, promising he would try to secure passports so we could flee the country. But we never even made it across the street. A black van, its side marked with the emblem of an Eye with silver wings, cut us off. Armed men stepped out, their rifles slung across their chests. They told my father his skills were essential to Gilead.

He managed to delay my fate, bargaining for time, negotiating my place in this new order. "We will find her a respectable husband," they told him, "someone who will look after her and secure her future." But because he was not a Commander, he was not allowed to choose the candidates himself, as was customary. All I knew was that my husband wouldn’t be someone from the highest ranks—girls like me, those not raised from childhood to be obedient, were seen as too unpredictable. Too dangerous.

And now, here I am, waiting for the life that has been chosen for me.

While I enjoyed my limited freedom within the ecclesiastical regime I now lived under, I had managed to infiltrate the underground network operating in and out of the country. My father was rarely home, which made it easier to hide people—Marthas, Handmaids—those preparing to flee. But now? Could I continue my illegal activities under the watchful eye of my new husband? I highly doubted it. Still, I had contacts. And I wouldn’t hesitate to use them when the time was right—when things had settled after the wedding.

“Girls, it’s time.”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I gripped the edge of the opaque veil they had placed over my head and pulled it down over my face. At least it would hide the hatred written all over my expression for the duration of the ceremony. Though I could still see everything through the fabric, it reminded me of the tinted windows in certain cars—allowing those inside to observe the world while dulling its brightness, stripping away its beauty. To those on the outside, however, it offered nothing but obscurity, concealing the person within. That, after all, was the purpose of this garment: to keep me hidden until it was too late.

Since my mother was no longer alive, she couldn’t walk me down the aisle. Instead, an Aunt whose name I didn’t even know took my arm, guiding me into position. Before and behind me stood other girls—too young for what awaited them. My teeth clenched in fury. As awful as this was, at least I was old enough to have left adolescence behind. The others couldn’t have been more than sixteen. A sharp tug pulled me from my thoughts, and I stumbled forward, falling into step with the rest of the procession.

We entered the stage of an auditorium, where a line of men stood waiting to receive us. A higher-ranking official was delivering a speech on the importance of fulfilling our assigned duties, on the sacred nature of marriage.

When we finally stopped moving, my muscles seemed to loosen, my body floating as if caught in a dream. Everything around me appeared slightly blurred, the colors a little too bright. A song played over and over in my head, like a silent plea for help. Singing don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be alright. Maybe the pill they had slipped into my drink was kicking in, because I still can’t say for sure whether what happened next was real or just a drug-induced haze.

I studied the man in front of me carefully. He was tense, his gaze averted, offering me only his profile. He looked young—perhaps a few years older than me—but there was discomfort in the way he fidgeted, rolling his ring from one finger to another absentmindedly. His thick eyebrows arched slightly, deepening the creases in his forehead. Was this difficult for him? Did he oppose this, too? My heart pounded wildly in my ears. Maybe, just maybe, I had a chance to escape all of this.

When he reached for my hand to place the ring on my finger, I almost pulled away. I even twitched—just slightly—but he noticed. For the first time, he looked at me. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. I gave him another chance to stop this. His touch was barely there, light as air, as though he were trying to touch me as little as possible. I appreciated that. Gently, I took his hand in return. His palms were rough, calloused from work, but I slid the ring onto his finger anyway.

As he released my hand and reached for the edges of my veil, the urge to scream clawed at my throat. Instead, I swallowed a sob, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. This time, the tears finally fell, hot trails streaking my cheeks. The lump in my throat made it impossible to breathe, and I was forced to part my lips just to let in some air.

When the voice speaking above us finally ceased, I opened my eyes and saw him clearly for the first time—without the veil between us. He looked uneasy, even distressed, but there was something else there, too. A flicker of relief. Maybe because he realized I was a grown woman and not a child like the others.

Somewhere deep within my tormented soul, I felt a hint of relief, too. He wasn’t an old man. He wasn’t a boy raised in Gilead, one who would believe he had the right to control me.

The entire ride to his house, I didn’t speak a word. I just stared out the window. That’s how I learned his name—Nick. He worked as a driver for Commander Waterford. The esteemed couple sitting in the car with us couldn’t stop talking about how thrilled they were that their loyal servant had finally been rewarded.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. They were telling him—telling me—that I was his prize for good behavior.

My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, where I caught a glimpse of my new husband. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Did it bother him, the way they spoke about me? I exhaled sharply.

I let my gaze linger, scrutinizing him without shame. If I had met him somewhere else—at a party, in another life, in a world far from here—would I have noticed him? Maybe. I might have even found him attractive. But none of that mattered.

I didn’t know him.

And now, I was his property. A servant. A means to an end—a child.

Our eyes met in the mirror. I held his gaze, daring him, warning him. This will not be easy for you. If he thought I would submit, he was mistaken. I would make his life hell.

He didn’t look away.

What was he trying to tell me? A threat? Don’t push too far, or you’ll regret it?

Regret what? Would they hang me on the Wall?

The thought startled me, but not for the reason it should have.

Because, for the first time, I realized—

I didn’t care if they did.

When we arrived, I politely excused myself, saying that the emotions of the day had left me exhausted and that I needed to rest for a while. Nick led me to his home—a modest living space above the garage. I felt like an intruder. This was his place, and now a stranger was invading it.

He gave me a very brief tour before setting my suitcase down on the floor.

"Make yourself comfortable. This is your home now too."

He said it without looking at me, his eyes fixed on the ground, his voice tense. I thanked him, and he disappeared through the door—he still had duties to finish before the day was over.

I didn’t unpack. I just sat on the edge of the bed and cried, my whole body shaking with the force of it. I told myself I had to let it all out before he came back and tried to fulfill his “duty.” The only thing I pulled from my belongings was a set of sleepwear—much more modest than what I used to wear when I lived with my father.

Then, I sat on the bed again. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of what was supposed to happen next.

What if I refused?

Maybe I could slit his throat in his sleep and then cut my own. After all, killing a man was a capital sin.

The door creaked open, and Nick hesitated before stepping inside, as if he hadn’t expected me to still be there. Maybe he had hoped I’d run away. He shrugged off his jacket and headed straight for the bathroom.

The sound of running water. He was showering.

This was my chance.

I stood up as quietly as I could and slipped into the kitchen, grabbing the first knife I saw. I hid it under my pillow and sat back down, trying to appear as obedient as possible.

When he came out, he was wearing what I assumed was his sleepwear—an old t-shirt that might have once been decent enough to wear outside and a pair of loose pants. He glanced at me warily before heading toward the bed.

I took a deep breath. He couldn’t suspect anything.

But instead of what I had expected, he simply pulled back the sheets and climbed in with a deep sigh, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction as he sank into his bed.

I turned to look at him, but his eyes were already closed.

"Good night."

That was all he said.

I watched his silhouette for a while, lying still under the blankets. He knew that refusing to consummate the marriage could lead to severe punishment—maybe even death. And yet, he didn’t seem to regret it. He knew exactly what he was risking.

But no one would ever know.

I hesitated, fidgeting with my hands.

" I’m not an obedient woman. I don’t know how to cook. Or iron..."

It was the only thing I could bring myself to say.

Nick opened one eye and studied me for a moment.

"Good thing I do," he replied before shutting his eyes again.

Something inside me eased. It was as if I had been carrying a pocket full of stones and someone had suddenly lifted the weight away.

Could I return to my work with the resistance?

What would happen if he found out I was part of Mayday?

I slipped under the covers, careful not to touch him.

That night, for the first time since arriving in Gilead, I slept peacefully.

#the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #nick x reader #nick blaine x reader #fanfic #max minghella #elisabeth moss #nick blaine fluff #angst with a happy ending

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cynthiav06 · 27 days ago

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Thoughts on Thalia? Because I've come across a part of the fandom who deems her a 'class traitor' and I want to see what you think about that?

That is a very tough question. Because there are quite a lot of inconsistencies in Thalia's behavior and what we are told her feelings were. And while they could have been addressed better, she is certainly not a class traitor. I am going to need a bit more context on this if possible because while I see what rudimentary actions might lead to such speculation, surely there aren't enough instances of it to actually bring her anywhere near to deserving such a label.

Alright, so by this definition of a class traitor , everyone in Camp Half Blood would qualify for it. Because the only context I am getting from this is her not joining Luke as the basis for this label which is absurd. Unless it's meant to allude to her thrusting the prophecy on Percy and joining the Hunters to remove herself from Kronos's target line; then that just barely qualifies but in the end it's self preservation and it cannot be called traitorous.

The first thing is that I believe Thalia had some level of semi-sentience in her years of being trapped within the tree. So imagine the first realization after properly waking up and coming back to life is that someone who used to be her best friend or possibly more had poisoned HER tree and endangered the entire camp and all the demigods there. (I know I know his plan was to use the fleece to revive her later on and get her to join Kronos, but that's still an insane risk to take against the last remaining piece of someone you love.) A camp she had died defending and a camp that was meant to be a safe place for people like them; something the three of them had spent forever spent searching for.

Then, if you remember, Luke was positively awful to Annabeth and Percy. Just in TLT, he tried to have Percy openly murdered thrice, and in SoM, he even manipulated and tortured Annabeth, someone who is supposedly very dear to him. Yes, yes, I know everyone remembers all of his torment towards Percy, but there was quite a lot towards Annabeth as well:

“Traveling with a Cyclops,” Luke chided. “Talk about dishonoring Thalia’s memory! I’m surprised at you, Annabeth. You of all people-“ “Stop it!” she shouted (…) I didn’t know what Luke was talking about, but Annabeth buried her head in her hands like she was about to cry. (The Sea of Monsters, Chapter 9)

“Percy,” Luke said calmly, “tell your giant to back down, or I’ll have Oreius bash your friends’ heads together.” Oreius grinned and raised Annabeth and Grover off the ground, kicking and screaming. (The Sea of Monsters, Chapter 17)

He (Luke) advanced slowly, smiling. The edge of his sword was tinged with red. “One thing I want you to watch before you die, Percy.” He looked at the bear-man Oreius, who was still holding Annabeth and Grover by the necks. “You can eat your dinner now, Oreius. Bon appetit.” (The Sea of Monsters, Chapter 18)

He rose unsteadily. "I knew I could count on you." He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to crush Annabeth. "HELP ME!" she pleaded, "Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die." The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing Annabeth against the ground. (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 5)

These are interactions between Luke and Annabeth just before Thalia wakes or a few days after the Titan’s Curse begins. This is supposed to be from someone who promised he would protect her, made promises about family, and was her mentor/guardian at some point. Not to mention the awful things that he does after.

And while Annabeth dislikes being vulnerable it is unlikely that she kept this from Thalia, her long time best friend. And if she did, Percy certainly didn't. So all this coming from Annabeth or Percy about Luke who was once extremely dear to her and with whom she had promised to take care of Annabeth with doing these things to demigods, to Annabeth must have convinced her beyond all doubt what Luke had become.

We are also led to believe Thalia had a few troubling demigod dreams of her own and was torn over the choice she had to make the entirety of the quest even before.

Another thing to note is that while Annabeth jad very rose tinted glasses on when it came to Luke even after his subsequent betrayals, Thalia did not. In the demigod diaries there's a section where Thalia quotes that Luke was becoming more and more angry, cursing gods, getting into more and more fights for the sake of fighting and endangering all of them. So she might have already expected her death to have terrible impact on him but I don't think Thalia could truly fathom how much until she learned of Percy and Annabeth's experiences.

The fucking problem here is these are all conjectures. If only there was a concrete way of knowing what Thalia thought of Luke, if only we had ONE decent Thalia Luke interaction that you know wasn't the decisive battle at the end then we might actually have confirmed the authenticity of both their claims of loving each other. There should have been a bit more drawn out interaction between them even at the end. When Thalia pushes Luke of the cliff she does seem to feel both guilt and grief and it is implied that it is partly the reason why she joins Hunters of Artemis and swears off of men completely because of the pain she went through with Luke. It seems to be half canon, too, but I am not certain how much I believe that.

Also, class traitor implies Thalia is siding against the benefits of her own people, the demigods, and speaking in favor of the Gods, correct? But this all implies that Luke is doing what's best for demigods, and Thalia is opposing is which is bullshit. Because again everyone siding with CHB will automatically be considered class traitors which is inherently wrong because Luke doesn't give two fucks about demigods. He was ready to send a 12 year old to Tartarus, he was ready to torture Annabeth and Grover, he poisoned the tree to leave the Camp and the demigods vulnerable and even defenseless in case of larger monster attacks which he was planning to sic on the Camp. Which he did sic on the Camp later on in the series. And this is all from the guy who wants to instill Kronos in charge of things. You know hacked his father to pieces, abuse his wife, oppress his kin, eat his children Kronos. Sure most Olympians give zero fucks about their children but Kronos wouldn't even have given negative fucks. The worst of all the Olympians combined wouldn't even come close to Kronos's level. I need people to understand that Luke was all for genocide since Book 1. I am not saying it, Luke is.

"Kronos will rise. You’ve only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest—the ones who serve him.”

So no Thalia or Annabeth or anyone else for that matter were NEVER going to join Luke no matter how much they loved him or pitied or empathize with this anger against the gods. Because you are trading a lesser evil for a clearly greater evil and even more gruesome fate. After all some gods cared about their children, rather openly too but Titans? They know no such thing. It would have been slaughter upon slaughter. So no it does not make Thalia or anyone else who sided against Luke a class traitor. In fact Luke is more or less a traitor, a deserter and an active malicious force against the demigods than the Gods were throughout the books.

In fact Thalia is the first to point out how condescending the Hunters behavior is towards the demigods.

She is also seen volunteering to go search for new demigods immediately after her revival.

Despite her history with Luke she sides with the Camp and resists the urge to pursue more power in the face of more power; despite her fatal flaw being Ambition no less all because she wants to fight for demigods and uphold her promise to Annabeth even at the cost of losing Luke.

Even after her initial dislike of the Hunters, she joins them anyway to keep herself out of Kronos's reach and to avoid harming anyone else by falling prey to his whispers.

She neither blames Grover nor Chiron for not being able to protect her. Isn't even bitter towards the camp and is generally seen to take protection of demigods seriously, so I am not sure what reasons are presented to call Thalia a class traitor.

But if you were implying Thalia is a class traitor for giving Percy the prophecy, then well, I am not sure how to refute that per se.

The only thing I can think of is, Thalia knew how much the Luke and the Ophiotaurus thing swayed her and how she might not be able to make the right choice a second time as opposed to someone like Percy who inherently cares more than most people do. She must have believed that Percy would do a much better job than her at keeping the demigods safe and saving the world.

The thing I dislike about Thalia's behavior is how after she wakes up the Camp hero worships her and ostracizes Percy even more despite him saving them numerous times and saving Thalia herself by returning the fleece but she shows little to no acknowledgement or gratitude and let's the Camp keep behaving that way.

She also doesn't come with Percy to give Nico the news when it was also her responsibility now given that she was Lieutenant of the Hunters and Bianca left under Hunters protection.

Thalia also doesn't confide in Percy about her decision to not be the prophecy child before or after her decision considering she does owe Percy that much.

She also seems to not help Percy as much later on with Luke and the things he has been doing even after her promise to do so. (I can only assume that she does so behind the scenes but it should have been mentioned)

Yet another thing I dislike is Thalia not being there for Annabeth later on. She should have explained Luke's changes and how the path he is going down on is so disastrous that neither she nor Annabeth can follow him. Perhaps if she confided a bit more in Annabeth about Luke's situation, Annabeth wouldn't have been so easily susceptible to Luke's manipulations. And given how easily Annabeth dismisses any warnings coming from Percy, she would perhaps be more receptive to ones coming from Thalia.

Don't even get me started on the lack of Thalia's role in HoO. She is a child of the big three. There's only so many of them; she should have had major involvement. This is a criticism of Rick, of course, not of Thalia. Considering he sidelined her afterwards.

Thalia Grace is the most underused pjo character of all time. It's not even close. She should have definitely been one of the Seven and Nico, too. You are telling me it's the greatest threat both the Greeks and the Romans have ever faced and the Greeks sent two demigods who only just realized they were demigods and Annabeth who has no powers to help her if things got awful? Plus, Hazel is a child of big three despite her inexperience, and Frank has the most unique extra ability under his belt, so those two can somehow be justified. So it should have been Percy, Thalia, Nico from the Greeks and Hazel, Frank, Jason from the Romans with Reyna and Annabeth leading armies of respective camps against other monsters and threats elsewhere but that's just our luck with Rick.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

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I've been dreaming of the Rose-Red Ruler.

Happy birthday, our most beloved Queen of Hearts.

May your smile be like a never fading flower.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A soft knock is at his door.

Riddle tears away from his current textbook--a volume of advanced potions, open to Recipe for Happiness. On the list of ingredients were faith, trust, a little pixie dust, and...

"Come in," he calls, letting the contents of the book fall from his memory.

His mother enters, bearing a tray with a tall pitcher and a glass. As usual, her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and she is dressed impeccably: a scarlet pantsuit, heels, black lace gloves, and a necklace drawn tight across her neck, creating the illusion of beading blood. Mrs. Rosehearts gives her son a stern yet warm smile.

"Happy birthday, Riddle. You're still studying, even on your big day?"

"Yes, mother. This will be the year I apply for internships, so I cannot afford to slack off in my studies. I want to ensure I am the strongest possible candidate for the law and medical internships I'm interested in."

She nods approvingly, setting the tray upon his desk. "It's good to be thinking about your future now--but be sure to take breaks when appropriate. I've brought you some Darjeeling, first flush. Its light and delicate flavor is perfectly refreshing for a sweltering day."

Mrs. Rosehearts starts to pour the chilled tea for him. Right as the aromatic, golden brown stream ceases, she lets out a small gasp. "Ah, yes--your schedule is open tonight, correct? Your father will be fetching a strawberry tart on his way home from work, and I've prepared all your favorite foods. You can eat as much as you like!"

Riddle's stomach flutters.

There are so many things wrong with what she has said, but he exclaims the first question to emerge in his mind.

"We're having a celebration? Together?"

"Of course we are. It's your birthday," his mom replies plainly. "Why wouldn't we celebrate our special little boy?"

"I... I don't know," Riddle confesses. For reasons he cannot explain, his head suddenly feels foggy. "I just can't recall the last time we did something like this as a family."

You've never seemed happy with one another.

He does not dare say it out loud.

Mrs. Rosehearts carefully regards her child.

"Certainly, your father and I have very busy schedules on account of our work at the hospital. You've immersed yourself in your schoolwork. It can be difficult making plans that align with all three of us--but we make time to spend with our loved ones."

Mrs. Rosehearts leans down and plants a feathery kiss on his head, a hand lovingly stroking his hair. So soft, so tender. She smells of roses on a bed of vanilla and amber, the same heady comfort as the exhilaration of collapsing, out of breath, after spinning in circles in the summertime.

The frantic thudding in Riddle's chest slows. He leans into her touch, her fragrance.

"Okay," he says quietly. A slight wetness prickles his vision. "I think... I'd really like that, mom."

He stays there, in her embrace, for longer than he thinks he should. The minutes are slipping away from him, but Riddle cannot bring himself to pull away. The cradle of roses is enchanting, spilling wool over his eyes.

He is completely, utterly, certifiably entranced.

Ding-dong!

Mrs. Rosehearts lifts her head. "Hm? That's strange. That can't be your father. He doesn't get out of work for at least another hour--and he wouldn't need to ring the doorbell, he has his keys."

"It is odd," Riddle agrees.

"Excuse me, it will take just a moment to check. Perhaps it's the mailman."

Mrs. Rosehearts gathers herself and departs. From the study, Riddle can hear the front door swinging open, followed by muffled chatter. Excited, boyish.

His mother's voice, raising.

Dread fills him.

He abruptly stands, his chair harshly skidding back with an unpleasant whine.

Riddle races into the hallway and to the foyer. He's not sure which is faster: his heart, or his feet? His mind struggles to catch up, to process everything--

The front door is ajar.

His mother, on one side. And on the other...

Two young men.

One with short hair in dark green and bright yellow eyes peering out from behind thick frames. He holds a hefty cake in his hands--a shortcake iced in whipped cream frosting. The strawberries piled on top shine like forbidden jewels.

Beside him is a boy with choppy bangs, a pair of feline ears bearing a plethora of earrings pokes out from his head. He has a lazy grin and disheveled clothes, reclining like a sunbathing cat against the first visitor.

His friends spot him before his mom does, and their faces light up.

"Uh-oh, guess the cat's out of the bag now," Che'nya giggles.

"Wh-What are you two doing here?!" Riddle demands. Not angry, but fearful. He nervously glances at Trey--Trey, whom his mother had angrily banished from their home until the end of time.

"We wanted to drop by and surprise you," Trey explains. He's too calm for this situation--especially when Mrs. Rosehearts is standing right there.

Any minute now, Riddle suspects she will explode. She will scream at Trey and Che'nya until she is a darker red than her hair. She will slam the door in their faces. She will threaten to call the police. She will--

"Riddle, you didn't tell me your friends would be joining us this evening!" Mrs. Rosehearts beams, stepping aside and waving for the boys to enter. "Please, come in! You can spend some time together before dinner.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Myaaa-uch appreciated!”

Trey and Che’nya cross the threshold with ease.

Riddle blinks. “But what about my studies…?”

“Studies? At a time like this?” Trey gives a light laugh. “We’re not at school, Riddle. You can relax a little. Just let me put this cake away and then we can all hang out, okay?”

“My father is already going to be bringing a tart later…”

“Oooh, double the desserts? Don’t mind if I do! I’ll swipe two slices of both.”

“Don’t be greedy, Che’nya! You have to save some for the rest of us, especially the birthday boy.”

“Me?” Riddle’s brows crease. “I…”

“It’s fine,” his mother coaxes. “Go and be with your friends.”

“Is that okay? Is that… really, really okay?”

Mrs. Rosehearts steps toward him, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes are dewey, and her face looks more gentle than he has ever seen it.

“Yes. This is your youth, Riddle. You only live once—so live this life to its fullest. If you could promise me that, then nothing would make me happier.”

“Mother…!”

Riddle tugs her into a hug. It is fast, it is fleeting, it is a flicker of light peeking through a keyhole. He opens that locked door and emerges on the other end.

He chokes out his response.

Two simple words, carrying all his hopes and dreams.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in forever, he smiles with all of his heart.

But beyond the happy boy, cheeks streaked with tears, beyond the door that divided him from the world... a shadow hides in the shade of a rose tree.

It looks on, and smiles too.

"... It appears as though Rosehearts has have found his happily ever after at long last, fufu. How wonderful.”

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vilevenom · 4 months ago

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I come bearing fic! Arthurlot, to be exact. I wanted to post this closer to valentine's day, but life happened, y'know?

I Would Glady Be the Icarus to Your Certainty

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (video games - Sonic and the Black Knight)

Pairing: Arthur/Lancelot (Sonic/Shadow)

Summary: Illness (or the approximation thereof) was a wicked thing that could strike when one least expected.

NOTES: This fic contains A/B/O dynamics, is my first foray into A/B/O, so I apologize in advance if anything seems...clunky or weird.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual acts. Characters are depicted as ADULTS

P.S - If you want a full list of tags, I’ll be posting this on AO3 shortly

It had been far too long since Arthur had last been able to spend any proper quality time with his most loyal and beloved knight. As much as it pained the king to see Lancelot stricken down with illness just before his annual hunting trip, Arthur was not about to look this most fortuitous gift horse in the mouth. As such, he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity to dote on Lancelot; as much as the other alpha would allow, at the very least.

"My lord?"

Arthur paused in his stroll down the hallway, tilting his head in a curious fashion as he turned towards the voice that had called out to him. A slow smile curled his lips as his gaze fell upon on Galahad, while he clutched a soup tureen held aloft in his hands closer to his person.

"My good Sir Galahad," Arthur chirped happily, turning his full attention to the youngest of the round table, "Please let it be known that I am always more than happy to help with whatever you may require. But, please, I am duty bound at the moment, so whatever it may be, I pray that it is quick."

Galahad hummed thoughtfully as he came to a stop in front of his king, while pushing the visor of his well shined helmet up onto his head. "That is precisely why I stopped you, your majesty," he stated, with a slight scrunch to his muzzle as his eyes flicked briefly to the tureen in Arthur's hands, "Not to be presumptuous, or question my king, but…surely you were informed that Lancelot requested solitude while he has taken ill?"

"I was," Arthur nodded, smile never faltering, "However, you and I both well know that Lancelot is poor at self care on the best of days. I can only imagine the state he must be in while indisposed. Surely you cannot disagree that a hearty meal and some good company would do him good? Especially on this most glorious of spring days? It must fill him with woe to be cooped up in his chambers on such a day as today."

The young knight chewed on his lip, the furrow of his brow alluding to thoughts he was having trouble articulating; or those he was not meant to share with the king. Either way, he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion after a moment, though not one he was particularly pleased with, if the long, slow breath he let out while frowning was anything to go by. "Although I have no doubt that my good kings words are well and true," he began slowly, as though choosing each word with purpose, "Please have consideration for Sir Lancelot's own concerns. He will likely not want you to dwell in rooms of sickness, for fear of causing you to become poorly, yourself. Certainly you would agree that he would feel all the worse should you become indisposed, as well."

Arthur chuffed a quiet laugh, but nodded his acquiescence. "That is fair and true. Your concern is dually noted, and I shan't stay longer than strictly necessary, unless Sir Lancelot asks it of me. Does that sound agreeable to you, Sir Knight?"

Galahad dithered for another moment, his shoulders drooping as if he knew that any further warnings given to the king would fall on deaf ears. "I suppose so, your highness," he sighed, his armor clanking as he shifted his stance, "However, should anything go…amiss, please do bear in mind that you were given ample warning."

"Ominous," Arthur teased, but nodded as he also turned to leave, "However, I will keep your words in mind. Good day, Galahad!" With that, the king strode away, unaware of the concerned twist of Galahad's expression, or the way his fingers tapped with nerves against the faulds of his armor. Instead, Arthurs spirits remained high as he hummed quietly to himself for the rest of his short jaunt to Lancelot's chambers, shifting the tureen in his hands so he could knock on the thick wooden door to signal his arrival. He waited a beat, listening for a greeting, but when none were forthcoming he idly wondered if the knight was, perhaps, asleep. In which case he would simply have to leave the soup on Lance's desk for when he awoke, with a note of well wishes. True, it would be a shame if the knight did not get to enjoy the soup while it was warm, but it would still suffice as a decent meal regardless of temperature.

"Please excuse my intrusion," Arthur called quietly as he pushed the door open, only to frown lightly at finding the bed clothes rumpled, but otherwise unoccupied. He clicked his tongue as he gently kicking the door shut with his heel, before trotting further into the room to set the tureen on the desk as intended. He glanced around curiously for his knight, finding the windows thrown wide open, and the bathing room door slightly ajar. Odd. "Lance?" he called, meandering towards the open door, "Are you in there?" He stopped short, his frown deepening as the sound of splashing water could suddenly be heard, along with the audible squeak of wet fur against treated wood, before the wet slap of paws against stone came towards the door.

"My lord!" Lance's face appeared in the doorway as he stuck his head out, cheeks ruddy and quills dripping, "I was not expecting you!"

"I wouldn't imagine so," Arthur said with a slightly crooked smile, "You reported to Percival that you were ill. I just wanted to bring you some soup and see if you would enjoy some company?" His muzzle scrunched slightly as the faint smell of something sickly sweet hit his nose, which seemed to emanate from the room beyond. He tilted his head as he took a deeper breath, trying to pinpoint exactly what the smell might be. It wasn't like any medicine or poultice he'd been subjected to, but it was an oddly familiar scent. "What is that smell, by the way? I feel as though I have smelled it somewhere before, but can't place it."

"Oh," Lance looked somewhat alarmed, if Arthur had to pinpoint his expression, shuffling to close the door further while his head remained in the archway, "It's, ah- soap! A gift from Percival. And, thank you for the soup, I am most appreciative! However, I do not believe it would be wise for me to keep company at this time."

"Soap?" the king scoffed quietly, taking a short step closer to Lancelot, "That doesn't smell quite like any soap I'm familiar with. I'll have to ask Percival where she purchased it."

"I don't believe the maker is in business anymore, your majesty," Lancelot stated quickly, shrinking away as Arthur moved closer.

"That's a shame," Arthur sighed, nose in the air, "It's incredibly enticing…" He froze, tilting his head slightly as he took another deep whiff, tiny details adding up in his mind as Lancelot continued to shrink behind the door, his face now partially hidden by the wood. "Wait. No," he murmured, suddenly taking a swift step forward, his knight letting out a rather undignified sound while nearly shutting the door in his kings face, "That's not soap." Although it hurt his heart to think it, he always knew it would one day be inevitable - to watch his beloved Lancelot find a pretty little omega to wed. He'd long ago come to realize that even if he wished with all of his heart and soul to claim Lancelot as his own, it was unheard of for two alphas to mate. Especially not a king who was expected to fulfill particular…obligations. "You have an omega in there, don't you?" he hissed, a painfully forced grin on his face, "And one that's in heat, no less! You dog."

"What? No! Your majesty-"

"Oh, psh," Arthur waved a hand at his knight, moving back away from the door, "Fret not. I shan't let the others know of your dalliance. Your secret is safe with me. No one will know that you'll be indisposed for the foreseeable future for reasons other than illness." He let out a forced laugh, turning on his heel to take his leave. "My apologies for interrupting! I'll let you get back to it." The king fully intended to walk out the door, heart aching with loss in his chest, but froze as a wet hand unexpectedly wrapped around his wrist and tugged him back. He turned wide eyes on Lancelot, finding the knight in a state of nature, while dripping a puddle onto the cool flag stone floor. "…Lance?"

The knight blinked, almost seeming to be in a daze, as though not having realized he'd even moved, his gaze tracking down to where he held the king fast. He gasped and wrenched his hand away, clutching it to his chest, eyes wide and panicked. "My apologies! I don't- That was uncalled for."

"It's quite alright. No harm done," Arthur reassured, reaching out with intent to touch Lancelot's shoulder - a friendly gesture he'd practiced without thought many times over the years he'd known the other. So, it was of great surprise when Lance stumbled back as though Arthur were going to hit him. The two froze, staring at each other with side eyes, until finally Arthur broke their staring contest to look back towards the bathing room, where the door was cast wide open. The room beyond was empty, save for a half filled tub of water and a trail of shallow puddles leading to his knight.

"Your majesty," Lancelot's quiet voice broke the king from his momentary stupor, emerald eyes flicking back to his knight, who looked to have shrunk in on himself while Arthur had been lost in thought, adding up many more details than he had before.

"You don't have an omega…you are an omega, aren't you?" Arthur breathed, watching as Lancelot's ears flattened down against his head while his gaze slipped down to the floor. "Lance…for all the years I've known you, why have you never said anything?"

"Because you would look at me like this," Lance breathed, wrapping his arms around himself with a frown.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some fragile thing," Lancelot hissed, "Omegas are not allowed to be knighted, my lord. Nor are they allowed to hold more than the most cursory and useless of positions in court. If anyone knew, I would lose my standing. It is why I have made practice of leaving the castle this time every year. I venture to see the lady of the lake, and take refuge at Dozmary Pool. But this year," he growled low in his throat, "My accursed heat came early."

"Accursed?!" Arthur scoffed, "Lance, omega's are a gift! Inside you is the ability to bring forth life. To be able to bear children is the highest honor one can be afforded. It is why omegas are given the positions they have - to keep them safe from harm."

"Exactly!" Lancelot snapped, lifting his face to shoot a sharp glare at Arthur, "I am not a glass bauble to be kept on a shelf and ogled at! You have seen me in combat, and have called me your strongest knight on more than one occasion. I have proven myself during training and at festivals many times over. I will not allow myself to be defined by the fact that I have a womb!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Arthur held his hands up in a defensive manner, a light frown on his face, "I believe we've both jumped an exceptional distance in this conversation, without having a full understanding of everything." He took a deep breath, incredibly glad that Lance had opened his windows, as it was allowing him to keep somewhat of a steady head on his shoulders and not be overwhelmed by his knights scent as he spoke. "I would never take away your position or standing in the court, simply because of your secondary sex. You have earned your place at the round table, that is not up for dispute or debate. Although, I can see why you might think that I would think such a thing, with my somewhat thoughtless words just now. I apologize for not taking into consideration the circumstances you would have had to overcome to find yourself where you are today."

"Oh," Lancelot's glare softened as he sucked his lower lip into his mouth to chew on it for a brief moment. "I…I should have known that my most righteous and generous king would not be so petty or quick to judge." He dipped his head in a short bow, "I beg your forgiveness, my lord."

"Lance," Arthur chuckled, striding forward, "You need never beg of anything with me. You always have my forgiveness. And you know you don't need to be so formal with me in private. I would like to think we're well past that. Especially now, with how long you've been stood naked in front of me." He snorted, grinning easily as Lancelot flushed at his tease, his tail curling under himself as he hunched his shoulders. The king let out a short breath after a moment, tapping his toe on the floor. "I swear not to tell anyone else of your situation, if you don't wish it. Though, please, for curiosity's sake…how did you plan on taking care of yourself during your heat? I can only imagine that anything you would normally use would be with the good lady. Do you wish for me to bring you anything that could help?"

Lance demurred for a moment, before finally shaking his head. "Galahad is aware of my position, and is a beta, so he will be unaffected as my scent grows…headier. He has already offered to bring me food and water, so you needn't put yourself out on my account."

"Put myself out? Lance," Arthur sighed, taking another short step forward with a roll of his eyes, very nearly entirely in the knights personal space, "You must know that I could never find any wish you could ever imagine to ask of me to be a burden. Besides, is it not an alpha's place to care for any omega that may need it? I am at your beck and call, my dearest knight."

"Ah, there, you see?" Lance teased in a rare show of humor, tilting his head as Arthur subconsciously leaned into his space, "You are looking at me differently."

"Only in so much that I," Arthur lifted a hand to tentatively brush along Lancelot's damp quills, "Am now keenly aware that my hearts deepest wish may just be within my grasp."

"Your hearts deepest wish? Do pray tell," Lancelot breathed, his hands slipping from where they'd been defensively wrapped around himself, gaze growing hazy as the king all but crowded against him, the open windows doing little to dampen their scents from each other at their close proximity.

"Why, Lancelot," Arthur chuckled, lifting his other hand to gently cup his knights face in his palms, "It's you. It has been you since the day I first laid eyes upon you."

"Truly?"

"My only reservation has been the thought that you were an alpha. But now…"

"Now…?"

Arthur blinked and sucked in a breath as a hearty breeze carrying the scent of freshly bloomed flowers blew through the room, drawing his attention and bringing him to his senses. He shook his head and took a sharp step back, regretful as Lance stumbled when he pulled his hands away. "You're in heat!" he gasped rubbing at his face and pacing away swiftly, hand over his muzzle to try and block out his knights enchanting scent. It was then that he realized that the puddle slowly growing on the floor was not just water dripping from Lancelot's fur, but a combination of slick that was slowly dribbling down his thighs, and precum that was weeping from his freshly exposed cock. His heat was obviously developing quickly, and Arthur was risking losing control if he stayed for much longer, while also likely being the reason Lancelot's condition was worsening so rapidly in the first place. "I can't do this," he groaned, turning away from the wounded look on Lance's face at his kings apparent rejection.

"Arthur!"

The king stopped in his tracks once again at the pleading call of his name, glancing back to find that Lancelot's knees had given out, his precious knight now sat pathetically in a puddle on the floor. He looked like he might begin to cry, teeth grit against the obvious pain raking through his body. The king let out a low whine, quills bristling at the thought of leaving an omega, let alone Lancelot, in such a state. But he could never take advantage like that, it appalled him to even think it. "I'm so sorry, Lance," he murmured, "But I will not do that to you." He turned to leave once more, pressing the heel of his palm into his traitorous arousal as he moved.

"Look in my diary!" A frantic, desperate sounding plea.

"What?" Arthur gave pause yet again, turning with curiosity.

"My-my diary," Lance gestured towards his desk, obviously now having trouble keeping himself upright as he leaning forward on a hand, breath beginning to come short, "The green one."

With a deep set frown Arthur dashed across the room to fetch the little green book, his instincts beginning to scream at him to help the omega in obvious distress, while his right mind was yelling at him to leave while he still had his wits about him. "What am I looking for?" The king held the book aloft, flipping through pages upon pages of Lance's hand writing, ear twitching in agitation.

"The last entry," the knight breathed out, his hand finally sliding out from under him, letting out a low whimper as he hit stone and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his traitorous abdomen his heat began to truly take its toll on him.

Arthur bit his lip and did his best to ignore the quivering mess of wet quills on the floor while he flipped to the last entry of the book as he was asked. His eyes quickly scanned over the page, finding little of note, until the last few sentences. There, in Lance's distinct, tidy handwriting, were words that had him nearly tossing the book aside in order to scramble over to the omega on the floor. His omega.

'...I can tell that my heat approaches, more rapidly than years prior. Perhaps it is due to the proximity I find myself more recently to my king. My dearest Arthur. What I would not give to present myself to him as a suitor. Or even just an option to carry his heirs, as I know my position is not what the court would want for our kings consort. Lady Nimue has told me not to fret, and to have faith that everything will work out as it should, however I cannot help myself but to worry. To reveal the truth would risk the loss of everything I hold dear. Though, I suppose…he is what I hold the most dear. And as long as I would not lose him, nothing else would truly matter.'

Carefully, Arthur lifted Lance from the floor, cradling the damp knight to his chest as he brought him to the bed.

"Did…did his majesty read it?" the knight asked between short gasps of air, hands pressed tight to his cramping abdomen.

"I did," Arthur murmured, burying his nose in Lance's quills and breathing deep, a low rumble of a purr starting up in the depth of his chest as he gingerly set his precious cargo amongst the pillows piled on the bed.

"And…?"

"And no other suitor would ever hold a candle to you," Arthur growled out, stripping himself quickly of his tunic and pants, "None would ever be as beautiful, or ferocious. None would be able to make their enemy quiver with a single word, while still able to reassure a frightened child in the same breath. You are my sun and my moon, and I would never take another over you. I would be most honored to call you mine, if you would do the same of me."

"My lord," Lance breathed, reaching out to his king with clutching fingers, a quiet purr to answer Arthurs slowly growing in his own chest.

"You are all I have ever wanted, and all I ever will want," Arthur groaned, climbing onto the bed to settle himself between Lance's knees, leaning in and allowing his length to slide tantalizingly along his knights, while black clawed fingers dug into blue quills, tugging him ever closer, "The courts opinion be damned. Once this week is over, none will be able to refute you as both commanding knight of the round table, and my most beloved prince consort." He nudged his nose against Lancelot's, a hairs breadth from pressing their lips together. "I will claim you as mine."

"Please. Oh, please," Lancelot nearly wept, digging an ankle into the back of one of his king's calves, while rutting his dick against Arthur's stomach. "I am yours, Arthur. I have always been yours."

"Good," Arthur growled out, before claiming Lance's lips with his own, pressing his tongue past teeth to take his first proper taste of the trembling knight. He groaned as Lancelot met him in kind, pressing his own tongue forward in a brief battle of dominance that he was certain no other omega would dare try to initiate. They broke apart with a gasp, a glistening string of saliva connecting the two briefly as they panted for air.

"Arthur," Lance whimpered, rolling his hips up, a soft gasp escaping him as their cocks slid together, "Please…I'm so empty, and it hurts." He tugged at blue quills, teeth grit against pain as he arched his back with a whine, his body obviously trying to find relief any way it could, though it was momentarily fruitless.

"I know, my love," Arthur cooed, dusting Lance's muzzle with a small handful of kisses, "But, do you think you can roll over for me? I believe it will be easier for our first time."

Lance groaned heartily but did as he was bode, even if it did appear to be a struggle with the way he kept pausing to pant for air. Finally, though, he was on his belly, legs akimbo as he tugged a pillow to his face. With a sympathetic click of his tongue, Arthur took pity on his knight and carefully manhandled him so he had his knees under him, his tail high in the air as slick dripped from his entrance onto the blankets below.

"That's it," Arthur murmured, carefully petting one hand down over the back of Lancelot's thighs. He bit his lip as he swept some of Lance's slick up onto his fingers, feeling filthy but caring little as he used his knights fluids as lubrication on himself. His purr grew in volume as he stroked himself to full hardness, brushing a reassuring hand over Lancelot's backside as the knight whimpered and rocked his hips back, obviously growing impatient with his kings dallying. "My apologies," Arthur chuckled, letting go of himself to instead press his fingers against Lance's drenched opening, tentatively pressing one digit inside, "Is that better?"

"You monstrous tease," Lancelot growled out, turning his head just enough to shoot a half hearted glare over his shoulder, "you know full well that it's not."

"So demanding," Arthur chuckled, draping himself over Lancelot's back, pleased to find all of his quills soft and flat in submission. He pressed a second finger in alongside the first, moaning at the thought that the tight, wet warmth he was feeling would soon be wrapped around his cock. "How is that?" he breathed against the knight's ear, grinning as it twitched in irritation, "That must be better?"

"Arthur," Lancelot nearly wailed, tears gathering in his eyes as he pressed his hips back into the king, "Please! Stop teasing. I need more."

"I know, I know," Arthur cooed, pressing a third finger in while rocking his hips so his dick slid tantalizingly through the slick on Lance's inner thigh, "I'm sorry. But I need to prepare you first. I don't want to hurt you if I can help it."

"Then hurry up," Lance ground out, rocking against Arthurs fingers, "I am already hurt, and I need more. Give me more!"

"Alright, alright. So demanding," Arthur murmured, pressing a brief kiss to Lancelot's shoulder as he pulled his fingers free and lined himself up. "Are you ready?" He barely had a moment to think before Lancelot was shoving himself back, forcing the head of Arthur's cock inside himself with a low, pleased groan. His tail wagged against Arthur's stomach as he shot a lopsided, self-satisfied grin over his shoulder, his momentum only stopping due to the kings sudden and tight grasp on his hips. "You-!"

"Yes, my king?" Lancelot heaved a breath, relaxing into his pillow now that he had what he wanted, with Arthur's dick half buried in his ass. "What is it?"

"Childish, churlish brat," Arthur seethed, before slamming his hips forward to the hilt without a thought, relishing in the surprised squawk that the rough action pulled from Lancelot. This was most certainly not what Arthur had envisioned on the nights he allowed himself to dream of what his first time with Lancelot might be. "There, are you quite pleased with yourself now? Got what you wanted?"

A quiet hiccup left Lance, a moment of worry crawling up Arthur's spine at the sound, until the knight tossed another loopy grin over his shoulder at his king, ruby eyes hazy in pleasure. "Yes."

"Never have you ever been so forthright with me," Arthur grumbled, petting his hands over Lance's sides before leaning back to get a proper eye full of his most precious knight impaled upon his cock. He licked his lips as an idea popped into his head and a feral little grin crawled its way across his face. "Shall I punish you for being so impertinent?"

Lance's eyes grew wide at the threat, suddenly pushing himself up onto unsteady hands, his muscles clenching tightly around Arthur's length. "No! No, please" he whined, as his arms near immediately gave back out, his face ending up half squashed into his pillow, "Please don't leave. I'm sorry."

"Lance, no," Arthur cooed, leaning over his knight to gently brush his fingers through quivering quills, "I won't leave, fret not. I told you, I have every intention of claiming you as mine. However, I do think you deserve punishment for being impish."

Lance's brow furrowed, obvious confusion on his face. "What sort of punishment, then…?"

"One like this," Arthur hummed, slowly sliding his length free of Lance at a snails pace, grin wide on his face as Lancelot whined petulantly below him at his leisurely pace, finally coming to a stop with only the head of his dick resting inside the omega. He squeezed the knights hips when Lance tried to rock back onto him, holding him fast. "Ah, ah," he chided, pressing his thumbs in hard enough they would likely leave bruises on a softer omega, "Not until I feel like you deserve it."

"No," Lancelot hiccupped, scratching at the bedclothes and leaving great tears with his claws, "Please! Please, please, this-! I need you inside me."

"Not yet," Arthur hummed, rather enjoying the view of his knight squirming below him, speared on the head his cock and desperately begging for more.

"I'm sorry! Arthur- my king, please," Lance gasped, arching his back in such a fashion that the kings dick very nearly popped free of its place.

"Ah! Hey now," Arthur scolded gently, pressing Lance back down with a hand before slamming his hips forward, chuckling as the knight lurched forward on the bed with a startled gasp, scrambling for purchase as his face was plowed into his pillow. "Is that what you wanted, my dear knight?"

"Yes," Lance breathed as he pulled his face free from his pillow, tipping his head back with a groan, "Thank you, my lord."

"Good," the king hummed, ever so slowly sliding out once more, only to slam back inside just as hard, enjoying the sounds of surprise that leapt from Lancelot's mouth as he repeated the action over, and over again. He stopped only as his knights head very nearly came into contact with the wall, shifting back to pull his omega away from impending injury. "Now," he hummed as he ground his hips into the trembling knight, chuckling at the small puddle of drool that had begun to accumulate on Lance's pillow, "What do we say again, Lance?"

"Th-thank you, my liege," the knight breathed, only to gasp and let out a heart wrenching whimper as Arthur pulled himself free of Lance's addictive heat.

"Hush now," the king soothed, unceremoniously flipping Lancelot onto his back while stuffing a wayward pillow beneath his hips. He then quickly and easily slid his length back inside the knights twitching hole, smirking at the euphoric cry Lance let out as he ground his slowly swelling knot against the knights entrance with a groan. "I want to see your pretty face when I fill you with seed for the first time. Do you want that, as well? To show me the pride in your face as your belly swells with my pleasure?"

"Yes," Lancelot breathed, taking the opportunity to clutch at Arthur once again, holding fast to his shoulders, "Please. Please give me everything! Arthur." With that he pulled the king down into a ferocious, biting kiss, nipping at Arthur's lips hard enough to draw blood as they parted. He grinned as he licked red stained lips, sliding his fingers into blue quills once more. "Claim me, Alpha."

"Your wish is my command, Omega," Arthur growled out, before he began to piston his hips rapidly into Lancelot, shifting to bury his face in his knights shoulder, while his arms wrapped around him to hold him close, nearly enveloping the other entirely with his body. He reveled in the litany of cries and moans that poured from Lancelot's mouth, resonating beautifully alongside the wet squelch of their bodies coming together over and over, as he fucked into his knight hard and fast. A ferocious snarl rumbled up his throat as his knot began to catch at the rim of Lancelot's entrance, pulling yet louder sounds from the knight.

Just as Arthur felt his knot begin to truly breach the omega, he was startled into a dead stop by a sudden thumping at the chamber door. It jarred the both of them from their little bubble of pleasure, Arthur's quills bristling into sharp, defensive points as Lancelot shouted in protest beneath him at being even temporarily denied his alpha's knot. "Who goes there?!" the king barked at the door, slipping his hand down to stroke at Lancelot's neglected cock to try calm the agitated omega.

"It is Sir Galahad, my lord," the young knight called through the wood, at least having the presence of mind to not barge in, "Sir Lancelot asked me to check on him should there be any…distressing sounds coming from his chambers."

"Does this truly sound distressed to you?" Arthur snarled out, pulling his hips back and thrusting into Lancelot with force, the knight wailing in pleasure at the motion.

"N-no, your majesty," Galahad called back through the door.

"Then why are you still here?!"

"Lancelot asked me to ensure he was not taken advantage of, my lord," the young knight replied, audibly clearing his throat, "And while I have no doubt as to my kings morals and virtue, I simply need to keep my word and fulfill my duty to my fellow knight."

Arthur let out a long suffering breath, his inner alpha roaring at him to chase off the concerned beta at the door, while his right mind warred with it with common sense. Galahad was simply doing as he was asked, even if it was at the most inopportune and inappropriate moment. "I assure you, Galahad," the king struggled to keep a growl out of his voice as Lancelot began to squirm and rock his hips impatiently beneath him, "Lancelot is in good hands and is not being taken advantage of."

"…Are you planning to keep him, my lord?"

"Keep…? Ah," he glanced down at Lancelot, ruby eyes unfocused and hazy in heated pleasure, but still staring right back up at him with unspoken layers of gratitude, loyalty, and dare he even say…love. It made Arthurs heart give a wild, aching lurch in his chest as a tender smile settled on his face. He brushed the fingers of his free hand over his knights cheek, purr redoubling in his chest as the omega tilted his face happily into his palm, while absently licking at his fingers. "Lancelot is to be my betrothed," Arthur called back to the door, though his eyes remained steadfast on his knight, "Is that enough for you, Galahad?"

"Yes! Of course, my liege."

"Good. Now, begone, unless you wish to listen to your commander being bred," Arthur growled out, snorting at the sound of armor rapidly retreating from the door. "Now," he sighed, allowing his inner alpha to take command over his actions as his hips began to take up their previous rhythm, fucking little whines and moans out of Lancelot, "Where were we?" He tucked his hands under each of Lancelot's knees, grinning as the omega mewled at his legs being lifted up and spread wide, giving Arthur the perfect view to watch his beloved knight as he writhed on his dick. "I do believe I was just about to put pups in you, wasn't I, Omega?"

"Yes! Please, please, Alpha," Lancelot cried, arms thrown over his head and claws dug deep into his pillow as he arched his back, seemingly uncaring of his own cock weeping onto his belly, "Knot me! Fill me up!"

"Only because you begged so prettily," Arthur rumbled, before barring his teeth and slamming his hips forward with intent, grunting with each push, his knot catching at Lancelot's rim with each thrust.

"Ar-arthur," Lancelot gasped, digging his head back into his pillow and pressing himself down on his kings cock as much as his position would allow, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, "please."

"Your wish-!" Arthur growled out, giving one last, harsh thrust, forcing his knot into the omega's tight entrance. He let out a loud, uncharacteristic howl that resonated with his knights responding cry as he ground himself into Lancelot, gnashing his teeth as his knot caught and his cock throbbed, pumping pulse after pulse of thick cum into the pliant omega beneath him, all while Lance's own cock spurted ropes of white across his dark fur. A light chuckle escaped him between panting breaths as he watched Lancelot's belly swell from its usual flat state as it filled with all of the love he had to give his beloved. "Is my command," he finally finished with a lopsided smile, allowing Lance's legs to slip from his hands and wrap around his waist, so he could pet eagerly at the knights lightly bulging stomach. "Look at you," he cooed, "After this week, you will most certainly be carrying my heir inside you."

"If that is your wish," Lancelot hummed, finally somewhat lucid as the first wave of his heat was momentarily satiated, his hands sliding down from clutching at his pillow to rest gently over Arthurs, "Then I hope that is the case."

Arthur glanced up with a hint of a frown. "Is that not what you wish?"

Lancelot seemed to dither on the thought for a moment, puffing out a short breath. "I do not wish to give up my position as a knight to rear a child," he admitted slowly, thumbs sweeping back and forth over his kings hands, "But, as you should well know, I would give up absolutely everything if it meant I got to have you, and make you happy. And if that means giving you an heir, then so be it."

"As I already told you, my dearest Lancelot," Arthur sighed, sliding his hands up to cup his knights face, "You will have to give up nothing. You will remain a knight, and should you become heavy with child, we will rear it together. Certainly, you may have to be reduced to basic duties should you become especially round, but I swear to you that the only things that will need to change are what you would like." A breath, "I do wish I could convince you of the potential gift you have." He sighed quietly as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to Lancelot's lips, nudging their noses together as they parted. "Besides," he added, "Isn't it a thrilling thought? A tiny creature, who is a perfect mixture of the two of us? Imagine how brilliant they would be!"

"You mean a creature of chaos and mayhem?" Lancelot chuckled, sliding his hands up Arthur's arms to rest gently against his shoulders, "I have heard stories of how you were as a child."

"Ah, but they would also be half of you," the king purred with a smile, "So, hopefully that would temper their more…mischievous tendencies."

"And whose to say that I wasn't also a monstrous little beast as a child?" Lance easily teased back, "I very much doubt you've spoken to Lady Nimue about my childhood."

"Oh! Are there stories I should be made aware of?" Arthur's ears perked forward in interest while his tail began to slowly wag at the thought he may be bringing Lancelot around to the idea of having children. Having his children.

"Many, I'm sure," the knight hummed with a smile, "But none I am willing to divulge at this time."

"Tease," Arthur's tail drooped as he pouted, his lower lip sticking out petulantly.

Lancelot snorted, his hips shifting as Arthur's knot began to soften, rivulets of cum slowly beginning to leak from his entrance. "Well, I could either regale you with stories of childhood, or," the knight murmured, eyelids drooping in a sultry manner as he smirked up at his king, "You could replace what is dripping free of me and redouble your effort to put a pup in my womb."

"Truly?!" Arthur perked up once again, his movements causing more cum to leak from the omega.

"What can I say?" Lancelot hummed, "You may be on your way to selling me on the idea. Besides which, Alpha," he tilted his head, bringing a hand up to trace over his unmarred shoulder, "You have yet to properly claim me, as you said you would."

Arthur let out a low growl, unceremoniously pulling his softening knot free of Lancelot, earning a startled yelp from the knight as fluids freely gushed from his entrance. "That is true, isn't it, Omega?" He shifted back enough to flip Lancelot back onto his belly, yanking the knights hips up so his ass was high in the air. "I shan't let that stand for long." Lancelot cried out in surprise as Arthur thrust back into him without preamble, his knot soft, but his cock hard. "Are you ready for another, my love?"

"Always, my lord," Lance slurred into his pillow, back arched low as he eagerly pushed back against his king, the haze of heat yet again making his mind fuzzy with lust.

"Good boy," Arthur groaned, smoothly fucking into Lancelot, the sheer mess of cum and slick between them making it almost too easy. Their next orgasms came quickly, overstimulated as they already were from their last bout, especially as Arthur wrapped his hand around Lancelot's cock and stroked him rapidly to completion, causing the omega to clench in a tantalizing manner around the alpha's length. This time, however, it was only Lance's scream that rang through the room when Arthur's knot popped inside as they reached completion, while sinking his fangs into the omega's shoulder, irrevocably claiming him as the kings property. They collapsed as one onto the bed as Arthur's cock pumped yet more cum into Lancelot, the omega whining as he became overstuffed, and the pressure of the alpha atop him began to force the kings ejaculate from him, even with his knot sealing them together.

"Arthur," the knight whimpered, squirming halfheartedly until the alpha rolled them both onto their sides, while tenderly licking at the deep, bleeding wound on his omega's shoulder. Arthur had no doubt that it would leave a mark, but once he'd sunk his teeth in a few more times over the next week, he was certain it would leave a nice scar for the world to see.

"There now," the king sighed once the bleeding had slowed to a sluggish pace, his hand absently petting at Lancelot's rounded belly, "A pretty claiming mark for the prettiest omega in all the land."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Lancelot snorted quietly, eyes slipping shut as a quiet purr rumbled from his chest.

"I beg to differ, but we can argue that another time," Arthur hummed, wrapping his arms snuggly around this dozing knight, "For now, you should sleep. It promises to be a long week."

"It won't be so long, while I'm with you," Lance murmured, a yawn escaping him as he spoke.

"No…I imagine that this week will feel like it has gone by in the blink of an eye, once it is over," Arthur agreed, reaching around to the nearest blanket on the bed and tossing it over the both of them, "but for now, sleep. We can revel in each other again once we've rested."

"I look forward to it," was Lancelot's barely audible, slightly slurred response as he drifted off into slumber, pressing himself as close to his alpha as he could as he did so, settling comfortably with Arthur's length still buried deep within him.

"As do I, my love," the king agreed, closing his eyes with a contented sigh, "As do I…"

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #king arthur #sir lancelot #sonadow #shadonic #lansoni #arthurlot #sonic and the black knight #sonic fanfiction #silver the hedgehog #sir galahad #a/b/o dynamics #things that i wrote

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moonspirit · 9 months ago

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The possibilities of certain story elements of AOT going differently if Annie never crystalised herself? Of course, it would still lead her to be arrested and questioned, making Armin worried (etc.) Though, what about other storyline segments? Like, what if she was there when Reiner & Bert revealed themselves? Helping to stop Rod Reiss with Eren? Or fighting Reiner along with Eren again, while taking back Sina? ..To also witness Armin's burnt body. Man, that'd be tragic, huh?

But - hey! At least Armin's and Annie's relationship could grow with them together! Plus, gives him a reason to be held by Annie, in her Titan Form. All of this sparked out of.. nowhere, really... I just really like Aruani. Have a wonderful day, Moon!

Hiii anon!!!! I'm sorry this took so long to respond (in case you thought I ignored you, that's totally not it T^T) - I just needed some time to process this!

This is actually very interesting to think about, especially since we often acknowledge the magnitude of the impact Aruani's Female Titan arc had on the story as a whole. There's many posts about that, about how the rest of AoT literally wouldn't have existed if not for Stohess. It was Armin's cornering of Annie and her crystallization that set everything in motion.

Now, let's get to your questions! (tho I'm very bad at AU and canon-divergence stuff so I'm sorry in advance and bear with me 🥲)

Considering that for the most part we are given the impression that Annie was the only one in RBA actually doing any serious work in ref to their mission (ie she wasn't losing herself in living a false reality like Reiner nor hesitating to act like Bertholdt), it kind strikes me that she would NOT have been impressed when Reiner and Bertholdt... revealed their identities. As aloof and disliking of her companions as she may have seemed, Annie's loyalty to them and the secrets they were keeping cannot be ignored - the whole reason she crystallized was so nobody would get a word out of her and that those two would remain safe. So imagine her horror when those two just waltz up to Eren and go "Heyyyy we're the chunky titan and the big titan, what's good?" 🙃

Tho before all this, we have to step back a bit and wonder - how much would she have given away while being questioned? Not much of her volition imo, but perhaps someone smart (say Armin, Hange, etc) would piece together little bits of info she lets slip, or her interrogation is purposely set up to exhaust and drive her to the point of near-madness until she gives up. Perhaps a combination of the two too.

It's also pertinent to note that tho loyal, Annie's also selfishly driven to her own cause - that of returning to her father, so we should also probably underline the possibility that she co-operates with the enemy (in this case Paradis) if it means she can find an escape back home along the way. It cannot be stressed enough that doing this is not too out of line for Annie's character, but it will load her with a massive tonne of guilt she'll never talk to anyone about, especially if it means leaving Reiner and Bertholdt's fate in their own hands. Annie was taught by her father to rely on herself and trust nobody else. There's only so much of leeway she can allow her emotions to have before she steels herself again.

Back to your questions! Assuming a scenario exists where Annie doesn't give away Rei-Bert's identities, instead striking a deal with Erwin, let's say, to keep some of her secrets while co-operating with the Scouts (this is a ticking time-bomb Erwin's planning to take control of, but mind you, Annie wants to escape before it comes to that). Rei-bert expose themselves on the wall and take off with Eren.

What will Annie do? Will she stay with the Scouts to get Eren back, or follow those two hoping they'll somehow make it past Shiganshina where the others can't follow? A chance to return home?

It's hard to say, given she's still loyal to her cause and Reibert, and coldly realistic in her approach that just because she's cooperating with the Scouts doesn't mean she switches sides - acting is only a temporary gig to get what she wants and to where she wants. If she stays with the Scouts, it's probably only to hit a milestone of an escape plan she's got; but if she goes off with Reibert, then it's because she sees her chance and takes it.

What then? We again have two possibilities forking out of this one scenario alone. Will she escape successfully with Reiner, Bert and Ymir? Or will she be caught by the Scouts and stay in Paradis; what becomes of her trustworthiness then? (nothing good. For aruani, add more angst)

With Rod Reiss, you know I honestly think it'd be REALLY interesting for Annie to meet with Kenny again xD I honestly love how every single one of the three Ackermans managed to get Annie at one point in time or the other (it's funny lmao) - it would be SO intriguing to see her come face to face with him. I'm not sure what thematic/symbolic significance this could have (I'm typing this out while sleepy xD), but I think something about Kenny being a slave to his ideals and desires could lead Annie to question her own beliefs or rather, mirror hers albeit in a different light. Kenny's "love" is shown to us in a very twisted shape - ie his relationship with Kuchel, his "raising" of Levi (with violence and purpose. reminds you of another father, maybe?), his pursuit of impossible dreams vis a vis Annie's very simple ones. I don't really know what I'm trying to say here except that I'm now picturing Annie being in the frame (perhaps hidden or not) when Levi finds out that the dying Kenny is his uncle - it seems important in a way I can't quite put to words xD?

About Shiganshina... oh we can't talk about Shiganshina 🥲🥲🥲🥲 I only know for certain that Aruani's relationship would most likely have progressed into a solid relationship, maybe? by this point (or not, given the speed at which things were happening left and right...), so... I can't even begin to imagine the devastation that Armin's "death" and the subsequent Serum Debacle would wreak on Annie. Tho the latter is honestly a PRIME opportunity for her feelings to become obvious to everyone that was blind to it hehe xD

But the angst... not only will it be Annie's guilt about battling Rei-Bert again (whether or not she's still playing actor or has legimiately switched sides is irrelevant)........ but also.... what would a struggle among Ackerman and Leonhart vs Ackerman have come to? God. You know, I actually wanna see that T^T Levi's just gonna lie there and be like "I hate these 104th girls. Always whining about some idiot boy, fuck my life. Erwin, haul me up man."

God. We'd never run out of possibilities to talk about xD You could draw a flowchart or a scenario-tree and it'd just keep going.

Anyway, I'm sorry that this is ALL over the place, really, I couldn't find a way to logically talk about all these things without diving into pages and pages worth of hyper specific possibilities (and that will bore everybody to death) T___T all the same it's very messy and incoherent imo, so I apologise if this isn't what you wanted! We can talk about this more tho, send me your thoughts :3!

#thank you this was INCREDIBLY fun #but also... sorry I took a long while to respond xD #askies #annie leonhart #shingeki no kyojin #armin arlert #attack on titan #snk #aot #annie leonhardt #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover

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child0feden · 8 months ago

Text

BEARS AND BIRTHDAYS

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

- general headcanons for pelle taking his daughter to build a bear for her birthday!

i had a feeling pelle would win the vote so here it is! this is kind of super fluffy and i just really hope you guys still like it, just getting back into the swing of writing and used this topic to warm me up <3

- view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: home by dolkins - i love you by daniel lanois

- it was your daughters fifth birthday when pelle decided he wanted to take her to build her own bear as a gift, after much hushed conversation with you about the topic whilst your daughter watched cartoons in the other room, her small body sitting cross legged on the warm rug as she scribbled colourful pictures on a once blank piece of paper that rested atop the thick wooden coffee table in the small living room of your shared apartment

✩ pelle was planning for her birthday months in advance, he always planned for his little girls birthday so far in advance! he always wanted to save up as much money as he could before the special day arrived, wanted to have overflowing pockets to spoil his little girl on her most special day and always make her birthdays extra memorable, only the best for his little girl! he always just wants to go above and beyond for her, to give her the best life he possibly can, to give her everything she could ever want and make sure she knows just how loved she is…

- it was no different for her upcoming fifth birthday! pelle would approach you whilst you cooked lunch or dinner in the kitchen connected to the living room, his head constantly peeking around the painted walls to make sure his little girl is absolutely not listening to your hushed conversation as he talks about his little plan for her birthday this year, quietly and almost awkwardly telling you all about how he wants to take her to build a bear for this one, how he thinks she would love being able to make her own bear, how she would be able to pour so much of her creativeness into a little plush bear that he knows she would treasure for so long! you could not be more thankful that he is preoccupied with keeping eyes on your daughter as he talks, so thankful that he cannot see the smile growing on your face at just how obviously adoring he is of her, of just how caring he is despite being slightly awkward as he speaks so… softly about such a cute topic and event to someone, he is still so unused to speaking about such… comforting things, speaking about things that he actually wants to do and things that bring him happiness to think about doing… even after so many years of being happy with the two of you, sometimes he still has trouble believing it, believing that this life he has with you, the beautiful daughter that you gave him, he has trouble believing that it is not all just one very long and perfect dream that he would never want to awake from

“ i think… i think she would like it… she likes her plush bears and making her own? she has such a creative soul, mitt hjärta, she would love it! or… i don’t know… maybe not… ” ( he begins to overthink his plans a whole lot at times, worrying that maybe she would not like it and maybe it would be a total waste of time, his worries will eat him alive for so long unless you intervene and assure him that she will absolutely love it, reassurance from you always makes him feel so much better in himself, you make him feel so much better in himself )

✩ well, he should really say the three of you now! since by this time, with it nearing your daughters fifth birthday, you were some months along in your second pregnancy with your son, another thing pelle has a bit of trouble believing is even real at times! he loses himself staring at your already sizeable bump so often, loses himself as he watches your daughter press a small hand to the bump and squeak as she feels movement! he can never resist letting a smile crawl across his pale face as he watches her eyes grow wide with obvious curiosity at the feeling against her hand, he can never resist meeting your eyes as you look up at him and throw him that oh so gorgeous smile

- pelle saves up every bit of spare change he has in the months leading up to your daughters birthday, putting every shiny coin and rustled note in a thick glass container in your shared bedroom, hiding it underneath one of his older tattered leather jackets that lays on the floor of your small wardrobe! he knows build a bear is pretty expensive, especially since the whole company is a new… fad or something… i mean, he had only found out about it through one of your shopping magazines after you had left it laying open on the bed one night and drifted off to sleep, he had flipped through it and well, here he is! saving up all of the money he gets from music, saving all of the money his parents send over to him so that he can let his little girl build her own bear for her birthday

✩ by the time her birthday does roll around, she knows all about what this new build a bear thing even is! just days before her big day, she had come home from kindergarten telling the two of you all about how one of her friends had gotten one for his birthday, about how he had made it into a little red fox with patchwork paws and big button eyes… she spoke about it with such excited curiosity whilst pelle held her on his hip, despite still being pretty skinny he can certainly pick his little girl up and he dislikes the idea of you holding anything heavier than a single brick whilst heavily pregnant! the two of you could so easily see the gears turning in her head as she imagined what she would make her custom bear look like, it took everything inside of him to not reveal the birthday surprise to her, took you giving him a wag of the finger and sharp eyes behind her back to make him zip his lips and look down at her with soft eyes as she continued talking erratically about how cute the fox plush bear was…

- as much as you adore your daughter and saw how her eyes faltered slightly when you told her maybe you could take her to make her own bear in the future, probably after you had given birth, as much as you knew you were lying to her face and as much as you hated it, you were absolutely not about to let pelle ruin his special surprise for her! not after he had done so much to keep it a secret, not after he had done so much to prepare for it and not after he had been so obviously yet so secretly excited to take her there

✩ and unfortunately, pelle is no better! he absolutely hates lying to his little girls face, he hated seeing her break out in a little pout when you told her she could go one day… nothing feels worse to him than lying to her, no matter that it is really for the greater good, but he tries to bury the guilt he feels by spending every bit of free time he has doing things with her! wether it was painting her face in a scary black and white, messing up her golden blonde hair just like his and attempting to teach her how to sing like him or letting her tie small plaits in his long hair whilst you watched and laughed at how blank his face was whilst hers was so bright, he distracted himself away from the strange guilt he felt until her fifth birthday eventually rolled around

- when the day does come, the two of you are made very aware of the exact date at a much too early time in the early, misty norway mornings as both of you awake to a light figure jumping onto your shared bed and crawling all over you, thankfully still being very mindful of your bump, like a cat as she excitedly proclaims in a much too loud voice just what day it is and huffs when you groggily tell her to just… calm it down, just a little… but she does, slinking down to squeeze in between you and pelle as the two of you slowly wake up more, his lanky arms reaching around her and pressing a soft kiss to her messy blonde bedhead before wishing her a quiet, deep and gravely happy birthday whilst you laugh at how obviously excited she is for the day! she can barely sit still in his arms, impatiently hugging him back with her short arms wrapped around his neck and head buried into his similarly messy blonde hair before quickly pulling away, crawling down the bed and jumping down before running out of the room and yelling for the two of you to hurry up and come with her to the living room so that she can open her gifts

“ happy birthday, min lilla rådjur… five years old, hm? too big… you must stop growing so quickly… ” ( do not even get me started on how badly he gets the birthday blues for his daughter, he tries not to show it around her or even you but the thought of her growing up and possibly suffering through the same things he did just terrifies him and he wishes she could stay in his arms forever with no risk of harm, no risk of sadness and loneliness )

✩ pelle fails to resist the sleepy smile that crawls across his face as he listens to her small feet quickly pad down the short hallway and into the living room, the corners of his diamond blue eyes crinkling slightly when he hears her sharp gasp as she sets her eyes on the gifts sitting in a neat little pile just next to the couch! he was worried, was worried that he had not managed to get her that many gifts this year as he had saved most of his money for the whole bear thing but that gasp had immediately washed those worries away, his smile only growing wider as he sees you in the corner of his eye, watching as you decide to just quickly get dressed for the day instead of stay in your pyjamas, knowing he would no longer be able to keep his little secret plan for the day a secret for much longer! his tired eyes watch as you pull on a comfy outfit for the day, watching as the soft fabric hugs your prominent baby bump and your skin glows under the early morning sunlight peeking through the blinds, his mind almost falling into a trance as he watches you fix your hair in the mirror hanging on the wall, his eyes glazing over with pure love as he realises once again that he gets to see this every morning now… he gets to see your beauty every morning, gets to feel your love every morning, gets to feel your daughters love every morning… it all just feels too good to be true for pelle…

- it is only when he hears you laugh quietly and gently tell him to get up out of bed that he manages to break out of his deep trance of love and admiration for you, his pale cheeks turning a deep red and heating up as he quickly darts his eyes away from you and climbs out of your warm, cosy bed! his skinny arms welcome you as you approach him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips before mumbling against them, telling him to get himself dressed and join you in the living room as soon as he is ready since you do not think your daughter will be able to stay patient and away from her wrapped gifts for long! just as you pull away and go to turn around, pelle grasps your upper arm and pulls you back in for one more morning kiss, his tall body leaning down to meet you half way and his veiny hand coming down to stroke your bump as his slightly chapped lips press against yours, grinning just a little when he feels your own sweet smile against his lips…

“ sorry… you look so beautiful this morning, mitt hjärta… you’re always so beautiful… ” ( even after you had his child and are with one more, he is still so strangely shy when complimenting you and loving up on you, almost weary of pushing his luck with you and you always are so beyond beautiful to him, the most beautiful piece of art in the word could not come close to you, you are the most beautiful piece of art in the world to him )

✩ by the time pelle emerges from your shared bedroom, dressed in his usual casual attire of not too tattered light blue denim jeans, an old and long since faded napalm death shirt, unusually clean white socks and black leather boots, you are just barely managing to convince your daughter to hold off on opening her gifts for just a little longer until her father is ready! immediately letting out a humorous sigh of relief when you spot him walking into the living room and messing with his hair a little, his eyes coming up from the floor to meet yours and study his daughter as she grumbles quietly about wanting to open her gifts already! as soon as pelle takes his seat next to you on the couch, his hands resting limply on his knees and a tiny smile on his pale face, you let her go down from your lap and lean into his side, both of you sharing quiet laughs at her eagerness as she tears into the small pile of gifts, his eyes lighting up ever so slightly whenever she gasps in delight and excitement at the sight of what she got, wether it be a new art kit or the fairytale book she had been wanting, as long as she was happy then so was he… so long as she was having fun and being happy, then so was he! all it takes for pelle to be genuinely happy in life, to feel proud of himself, is for you and her to be happy! nothing else is more important to him than you and his daughter, nothing else is more important to him than you and her being happy and healthy

- with her being so excited and the pile of gifts not being a mountain high in the sky, she goes through the gifts quite quickly! constantly turning in her place on the living room rug to show you and pelle what she got, sending you both a shining smile every time as she holds the gifts in her hands and examines them before setting them aside to unwrap another! when she is done with her gifts, she has them in a messy little pile off to the side, brushing her messy hair out of her face as she decides now, well, now would be a good time for some cereal… looking up at both you and pelle as you cuddle on the couch, watching her with soft eyes, telling you in a quiet voice that she wants some cereal before pelle mumbles a gentle response and gets up to grab her some, knowing you probably need some breakfast too, especially since you’re pregnant! the second pelle wanders off into the kitchen to make some cereal for your daughter, parting from you with a quick kiss to your head, you take her to get dressed and out of her bat print pyjamas because as much as you love them and think they are just adorable, you know she will not be able to wear them outside without catching a nasty cold… of course, she has no idea why she will really be going outside, at least not yet, but she does not question it one bit as you dress her in a little black spiderweb patterned dress with a long sleeved black sweater underneath and some tiny shiny black pumps to go with! no doubt you tried to put some little black bows in her hair too but just like her father, her hair is very specific and only she decides who touches it and what goes in it, bows were a no for the birthday girl!

“ okay… i’ll go make you some cereal, min lilla rådjur, and you some toast, you need to eat too, mitt hjärta… ” ( this only makes you softly yell after him, telling him that he will be eating too, no matter what he says! he had gotten much better with eating the past few years but still had some occasional issues, especially in the mornings, but he could never say no to you, especially not when you are pregnant and you know that )

✩ the birthday surprise is finally revealed to her over breakfast cereal! her favourite kind, sugary and sweet with colourful marshmallows scattered around! pelle made you some simple yet filling toast, thankfully not burned and actually perfectly done! it was a recent craving in your second pregnancy and one he had since learned to perfect just for you and his second baby as they rest in your stomach, he has you sat atop his lap at the tiny two seater table in the kitchen, the two of you sitting comfortably just across from your daughter as she munches down on your cereal and you offer some of your own tasty toast to pelle from over your shoulder whilst he strokes your bump and waits for the right moment to drop the surprise, taking note of you nudging him gently to make him sigh softly and take a bite of the buttery, crunchy bread held in your hand…

- pelle drops the surprise bomb just as she finishes her cereal, his hands shaking just slighting in both nervousness and excitement whilst you, long done with your toast, stroke his upper arm to offer some loving comfort and reassurance! speaking up in a quiet voice as your daughter perks her head up and listens to him speak, her big blue eyes widening and a large smile stretching across her face as soon as she hears the words about going to build a bear… today… for her birthday… to make her own plush bear… pelle can barely even finish his sentence before she is racing out of her chair and rushing over to the two of your, throwing her small arms around both of you the best she can as she squeals and repeats thank yous over and over again whilst you laugh, watching as pelle breaks out in a large smile and lets you off his lap so that he can wrap his arms around her small frame, pressing a gentle kiss to her soft blonde hair and mumbling against the side of her head

“ it’s okay, min lilla rådjur, you’re welcome… you’ll make the most perfect bear, hm? we should go now, i think… ” ( he says it with so much obvious love in his voice, so much relief that she is so obviously beyond excited for this little trip together! his eyes meet yours as you move around behind your daughter, picking up the white porcelain breakfast bowl and placing it in the previously empty sink before sending pelle a soft smile, a smile that speaks a thousand words, a smile that tells him he did good )

✩ thankfully, you guys live in an apartment very close to a build a bear store! well, very close to many stores as your apartment building resides just minutes away from a pretty jam packed city centre but it comes in useful, especially for your common late night pregnancy cravings… it also means pelle did not have to save up any extra money for travel, which is of course a major bonus too! the whole walk to the store, your daughter is comfortably holding each of your hands as she walks in between the two of you, her small hands encased in little black cat mittens as she swings here arms back and fourth softly, her short little legs trying to keep up with the large steps that pelle takes with his much longer legs! obviously, her excitement is shooting up to the clouds as you make your way to the store, her quiet voice talking all about what she might do for her bear whilst you and pelle listen with matching soft smiles on your faces! his eyes, covered slightly by his long blonde hair as it blows in the gentle wind, meeting yours as he looks over at you and sends you another warm smile, something he rarely ever does in public but around you and his daughter? he can never fight it off…

- when you guys reach the store after a short walk and earfuls from your daughter about how excited she is, her eyes are lighting up the second she sees the large logo and open entrance door, her cotton covered hands breaking away from yours as she drags her father inside whilst his eyes widen at the sheer confidence his daughter has around other people, but no matter how nervous he might be around other people at times, he would never let that deter him from joining her, especially since he can hear your quiet laughter from behind as you slowly trail the two of them, wanting them to have their extra special moments whilst you browse through all of the cute little plush bear clothes, recognising how similar they are to the tiny patterned clothes your daughter used to wear when she was a newborn… recognising how similar they are to what your son will wear when you finally give birth… you get so lost in thinking about what your soon to be born son will look like whilst pelle wanders off with your daughter!

✩ whilst you busy yourself with admiring the mini clothes meant for plush bears, pelle finds himself still being dragged along your daughter as she holds his much larger hand in hers, he is secretly thankful that the store is so empty due to it being still so early in the morning, thankful that he does not feel as nervous and slightly anxious as he probably would if there were more people in the lit up store, thankful that he does not feel a major need to constantly keep his head down, thankful that he can watch his daughters face light up as she spots the custom bear section of the store, quickening her small steps to make it over there as pelle grins at how enthusiastic she is! his grin only falters ever so slightly when he realises he does have to talk to the employee standing by the build your own bear isle, his hand subconsciously tightening around his daughters as buried nerves creep through his body… but he manages to stomp them away, manages to keep them buried as he distracts himself with the thought of how excited his little girl is to do this, how much this obviously means to her…

“ careful, min lilla rådjur! slow your steps, just a little, hm? for me? i don’t want you to slip… ” ( whilst he might find her excitement to be just so cute and it makes him so happy to see her so excited, the floors are obviously freshly cleaned and he would have trouble ever forgiving himself if she slipped and hurt herself because she was walking so quickly )

- he speaks up so lowly to the unsuspecting and obviously young employee, his tall and lanky frame towering above them as his long blonde hair covers some of his face and he would look almost terrifying if it was not for the brightly smiling little girl next to him, quietly asking them how much it will cost and how to do it whilst your daughter is practically vibrating with excitement by his side, her big doe eyes still sparkling with happiness and her small hand still grasped around his as he gets a rundown of the process from the slightly nervous employee

“ hello… my daughter, she… she needs to build her own bear, or whatever it is, so how much do you need for that? ” ( when it comes to his daughter, he gets a bit more confident when speaking to people for her, to get things for her and such! it took him a little while to get used to the sudden and pretty unfamiliar surge of confidence he felt whenever it involved his daughter but he is so thankful for it, so thankful that he can do things for her )

✩ after getting the build a bear process run down by the employee and after your daughter had enthusiastically spoken up to ask the employee some… very obviously excited questions about if she can really make her bear anything she wants, after she had looked up to pelle with a face coated in pure wonder of what she would make and received a soft smile along with a gentle hand squeeze in response is when she finally gets to begin building her own plush bear! and of course, just like her father, your daughter is… beyond creative and has a unique sense of creativity, she was not the usual five year old and she did not have the most usual father… not at all! so both you and pelle already knew she would make such a unique bear, something so unusual yet so sweet but what you guys were not expecting was how genuinely thoughtful it would be, how special it would turn out to be…

- to the surprise of both you and pelle, your daughter made her bear a mix of both you and her father! at first it did not click in his head what she was making as she picked out colours and fabrics for her bear, it did not click that the slightly curly soft beige fabric she chose for the body was supposed to replicate his long blonde hair, that the cotton fabric she chose for the paws was supposed to replicate one of your favourite similarly patterned sweater, that the one blue button eye was supposed to replicate his blue eyes whilst the second coloured button eye was supposed to replicate yours… it only truly clicked in his head when it came to choosing out clothing for the bear!

✩ of course, sticking with her theme of wanting her bear to be like her parents but especially her father, she chose the most similar clothes they had that were like his! that being a tiny plain black biker leather jacket, little mock denim jeans as well as some miniature laced up black boots… that is when it finally clicked for pelle, it all pieces together in his head so quickly as he realises just what kind of bear she is actually making! but he does not bring it up, not at all… pelle simply stays quiet, brushing his long hair out of his face and letting her talk to herself about the fabrics, giving her soft hums of approval when she asks him little questions about what he thinks so far… it is not like he wants to ignore her or anything, not at all! he is just so… thankful and so blown away by how this perfect little girl came from him, baffled as to why he is receiving such a pure form of love and admiration from such a beautiful soul… he can so clearly see how you deserve this type of love, he can so clearly see so much of you in your daughter but himself? he cannot believe it, even after five years of having her in his life, he still cannot believe he receives this type of love not just from you but from your daughter now too… it almost confuses pelle, the love he feels radiating from her almost confuses him, why does she adore someone like him so much? no matter how many times you have explained to him that he is her father, that she will only ever love and admire him, that she will only ever see him as her perfect father, he still gets oh so overwhelmed sometimes…

- when the bear is finished, your daughter having done with putting all of her little customisations into it, it is so obviously meant to represent a combination of you and pelle! anyone who knew the two of you would be able to see it from a mile away with all of the small similarities put into the design and clothing choices! pelle has still not said a word about it, he has not mentioned how he knows exactly what it is to his daughter, he just does not want to overstep because maybe she does not want him to know that is what it is supposed to be, he does not want to intrude on something that maybe she wants to keep as an innocent secret from the two of you! so he just watches as she gets the plush bear filled with soft white stuffing by the employee, watches as her eyes gleam when they hand the now filled out bear to her, watches as she looks up at him with a huge smile plastered on her small face and holds the bear up to him, finally proclaiming about how she made it into both you and him! how she made her bear into the two of you but especially her father because she wants to be just like him when she grows up, she wants to be just like you when she grows up and pelle can just barely hold it together in the store as he takes her open hand in his, proudly grinning down at her and bringing his free hand to pet at the bear before quietly and almost shakily mumbling out a response, just loud enough for her to hear!

“ it looks very good, min lilla rådjur, so good… you did so well, you should show your mother now too and… thank you, min lilla rådjur, but you will be better than me when you grow up! you will be a greater musician or artist, you must know that… ” ( his voice is wavering ever so slightly as he speaks, his emotions still swirling around erratically inside of his head as he attempts to hold himself together at how thankful he is in this moment, how thankful he is that you entered his life and gave him such a wonderful daughter, how thankful he is that you made his life worth living )

✩ pelle comes so close to breaking down when your daughter throws herself around his legs, her short stature not even reaching anywhere close to his hips due to how tall he is and how tiny she is! he has to swallow so deeply as she loudly proclaims how much she loves him, how she could never be greater than him because no one is better than her papa… of course, she does not even mean to say it loudly! she just has that naturally loud voice at times due to her age but it only adds to the heat blooming like a beautiful flower all over his heart because she sounds so confident in her words as she speaks up to him, her voice unwavering and head unbowed whilst her chubby cheek squishes against the scratchy fabric of his jeans

- thankfully, pelle does manage to keep it together through keeping his breaths steady and taking his daughter up into his arms when he sees your figure approaching, smiling softly when you see your daughter happily perched on his hip and him obviously overblown with so many emotions as he looks to you for… guidance in a way! the second your daughter meets your eyes, she lurches into a speedy ramble about how cute her bear is whilst holding it out to you, telling you all about what it is supposed to replicate, who it is supposed to replicate and of course, you fail to stop yourself from cooing as you study the plush bear, noticing how much it looks like pelle with small splashes of you! you very quickly realise that this must be why pelle is so… almost upset looking, why he looks like he really needs a deep hug from you! he gets like this so often, so overflown with emotions and his mind is still so sensitive to love like this that it almost tires him out, almost makes him just want to go home and rest with the two, or three of you with some hot tea… pelle is the first to speak up quietly, obviously wanting nothing more than to leave the brightly lit store and go home with you and your tiny yet growing family

“ are you all done here, min lilla rådjur? we can go home now, is that okay with you, my birthday girl? we should not keep your mother out for too long… your birthday gifts from mormor and morfar should have been posted by now… ” ( of course, he was absolutely not going to leave the store without making sure his little girl had done and got everything she wanted! but he also knew that at the mention of more gifts from her grandparents, she would want to get right back home to your cozy little apartment to dig into them )

✩ and pelle was right, the second he mentions more gifts and gifts from her grandparents at that, your daughter is nodding enthusiastically and flashing a big smile before both you and her father share a quiet laugh at her sudden haste to get back home! but neither of you were complaining, you were just beginning to get some more cravings from toast and pelle… well, he would always prefer to be at home with you and his babies, he would always feel the most comfortable at home, he would always choose teaching your daughter more about art and music as opposed to going shopping in a city centre that is steadily growing more populated as the early morning progresses

- pelle never lets his little girl down for the whole walk home, not that she even wants to get down from his arms! he holds her on his hip as you guys walk, taking in her rambles about how much she loves her bear with ease and smiling at you when you take his cold free hand in yours to warm it up for him, his eyes drifting down to admire your baby bump for what feels like the one hundredth time that morning… only when you reach your apartment is when pelle sets your daughter down on the ground so that he can unlock the door and get inside, watching with a tiny smile painted across his pale face as she bursts through the door first and squeals when she sees the posted gifts along with a card! the three of you spend the rest of the morning cuddled up on the couch, with pelle stroking your bump with one hand and brushing his hair back out of his face with another, shyly accepting any kisses you lean back and press against his lips in between eating your new batch of toast, both of you admiring your daughter as she tears into the gifts sent over by his parents before she joins the two of you on the couch and settles down on top of her father, laid across his lap with her head on your bump and her newly acquired plush bear held tightly in her arms whilst he moves his hand away from your bump to stroke her hair, his eyes softening as he watches her once energetic face turn sleepy as she drifts off for a nap, the early morning awakening obviously catching up to her… the combined body warmth between the three of you and the low sound of cartoons playing on the tv only causes you and pelle to fall victim to a quick nap too but he only lets himself fall asleep when he knows both you and her are comfy and peacefully asleep, only then does he press a soft kiss to each of your heads and mumble an i love you along with a deep thank you into your hair… pelle falls asleep feeling so genuinely loved, surrounded by so much content and peace, all he feels is a sense of serenity as he lets himself fall asleep cuddled up with the people he loves most, the people that made his life worth living and the people that make him feel so deeply appreciated <3

#dad! pelle ohlin #dad! dead #pelle ohlin x reader #dead x reader #mayhem x reader #mayhem headcanons #fluff headcanons #headcanons

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asudogi · 10 months ago

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This brings me to another question: after Chapter 7 is over, how will Idia introduce Silver? Like it or not, he's gonna have to tell them about the absolute parade of green flags (heh, get it?) he landed. Oh how will the joint family dinners go? Lilia and the Shrouds teaming up to embaress their sons while Malleus and Ortho hang out in the corner (I think they'd have a really cute friendship). Actually something tells me that both groups are already planning the Silidia wedding years in advance

well first he had to kidnap him

We still don't really know how Idia sees his parents truly, from what I see it's been in between of hesitation and comfort. Since book 7 is all about familial love, I'd say that Idia's relationship with his parents would be more visible later on.

I think Idia will first introduce Silver first as a fellow extreme blessing/curse holder. It seems that a gone-wrong type of blessings is quite rare to be found in twst wonderland (assumption, since there's no other character who bears it outside of Silver and the Shroud bloodline). Mama Shroud would be delighted to see Silver (and his 400 y.o curse). I'd say they wanted to 'check' on him for free since he's Idia's friend. Lilia will be concerned upon the last STYX incident with NRC overblotees, so him and Malleus will come for safety.

There will be joint family dinners, yes!! It's definitely a chance for Mama Papa Shroud to look at the subject- uh, Idia's beloved friend. They are definitely very happy to be met such a good mannered kid. I think they already knew Lilia beforehand since Lilia knew about Idia's grandma, which was supposed to be a secret? Since it's STYX (idk I'm still figuring out how tight they had to keep their personal identity) Malleus is unfortunately cannot mess around inside STYX or he might accidentally destroy some valuable devices, so they probably does the dinner outside the underground Bunker. And perhaps they will play at the park, Ortho will show Malleus his fav games and they will frolic happily lmao.

Both family then realize that what Idia and Silver had is something special... The Shrouds especially. They think that this is the first time they saw Idia just comfortable enough to talk with someone outside of Island of Woe, so they are slowly feel a bit hesitant with the whole 'experiment' shenanigans in their head hahaha

#twisted wonderland #dogibarks #idia shroud #silver vanrouge #silidia #idiasil #silver x idia #idia x silver

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mbgcreates · 2 years ago

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Under the Mistletoe

Word count: 1481

A/N: You know what, sure, I'll put this one here. Also, THIS WON'T BE SITTING FOR ANOTHER YEAR!! This was started about two years ago, and I only just finished it 😅 enjoy! Remember, reblogs > likes! Thank you!

Dark is…nervous.

It's been a long time since he's felt this way; the closest he can recall is when Wilford gets overly trigger-happy at the worst of times and jeopardizes his plans, or when the man has one of his memory spells. But this…

Dark glances at the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe of his office, visible only from the inside. It’s been… Well, in another lifetime, he had attempted this tradition before and succeeded a few times, although he was much more nervous then than he is currently. Besides, times have changed. He’s a different man, now. One that he thought wasn’t so capable of something like “nervousness.” Do you even like him enough that this will work—

Nonetheless, he requested some time ago that you come to his office at your earliest convenience. He knows you won’t ignore it, because he hardly ever invites you there. If he does, it must be important. As this is. As you are.

He cannot focus on his paperwork in the interim. Instead of a refuge, it feels like an overwhelming mountain, stretching up almost indefinitely. He's not even sure why he has so much of it, a creature of the void as he is, but somehow, Wilford’s very existence comes with paperwork. The other egos cause headaches, but typically not paperwork. Not often, anyway.

And you. Somehow, you’ve managed to fit in with the craziness that is this revolving door of oddballs. It took time, but you’ve carved out your own niche, and the more aggressive of the bunch eventually stopped antagonizing you. Wilford, as was his wont, took you “under his wing,” which largely meant you’d run around doing increasingly inane errands until Dark had to step in. You weren’t built for that, after all. It was the first time he saw anything that wasn’t (fear) concern in your eyes when looking at him.

Dark sighs and shuffles some papers around. The dark wood of his desk pokes through, matched by the dreary wallpaper, black bookshelves with equally desaturated books, and dark wood flooring. It's like it's bearing down on him, suffocating him in his anxiousness instead of being a comfort. After the day he stepped in, you slowly began to spend a bit more time with him around the manor, and he found himself missing your presence on some days when you weren’t around.

Your footsteps announce your arrival far in advance, his supernatural hearing better than a human’s, and he actually has to take a deep breath to calm himself. In all honesty, the nerves wouldn't be that bad, but for him? Anything more than a little is too much.

He had discovered by way of accidentally overhearing that, despite appearances, you enjoyed the little things, especially the little romantic things. It was strange, to consider such concepts after so long, to let the idea germinate in his mind until an idea bloomed. An idea that he is still second-guessing until this very moment. He pretends to keep working until you rap on the door frame. "Dark? You asked to see me?"

"Ah, you're here." He shuffles the papers again, this time into a neat stack, acting as if everything is normal and you didn’t somehow borderline startle him. “I almost believed you wouldn’t show.”

You both know he said this on purpose; just another jab he can’t help but say. A deflection, now, habitual and not fully meant. You huff half-heartedly. “As if I wouldn’t. Can I come in?”

“Not quite yet.” He knows the anxiousness isn't evident (you’ve never seemed to notice before), but his reply is still rather quick. “We can have a discussion with you over there.”

You roll your eyes. Dark doesn't notice, too caught up in not looking at you. “Sure, real personal discussion. What even did you want to talk with me about?”

“You have been living here for quite some time now, and it looks like you will be here for quite some time longer.” His desk is tidied much too soon for his liking. “I take it everything is still satisfactory?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” you reply, obviously confused. “Wilford is still…Wilford.”

“That he is. And that he will continue to be.” He’s forced to finally look up, and seeing you underneath the mistletoe is like something out of a dream: unreal. Too good to be true. Dark makes himself stand up, palms pressed firmly against the desk as if to steady himself. “If you have more trouble with him, or with anyone else, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, okay, thanks…?”

“I do think Wilford isn’t fully utilizing your talents, but he doesn’t always listen to me.” Dark finds his feet taking him forward, towards you.

“Really? You think so?” There’s a tinge of surprise in your voice, but it’s a good surprise. You didn’t think he would notice, he suspects.

“Yes. And with the days you spend in my office, we could figure out some way to harness and hone them. Maybe then, he’ll listen.”

“I mean, is it really a good idea to get in his way?”

The corner of Dark’s mouth twitches as he stops in front of you. You’re so…short, compared to him. “Well, of all people, I would be the best candidate.”

Amusement flickers into your eyes, and it makes you look that much lovelier. “I suppose you’re right. But still…”

“My dear, I think you should…aim higher. Look higher.” When you just blink at him, not picking up on his odd hint, he points upwards, towards the lintel. Your brows twitch in confusion, but you follow where he points. Your eyes catch the sprig of mistletoe, and he watches your expression as the gears turn in your mind, everything clicking into place. You look back at him in disbelief, and whether you’re aware of it or not, your cheeks are tinged with the beginnings of a blush. It makes him want to do this even more. Still, the words are not easy to say, tongue heavy in his mouth. “May I?”

You nod almost dumbly after a moment, and he brings his hand up to cup your face. It is of immense relief that you don’t recoil. If his heart still worked, it would be beating out of his chest. As it is, he can hear yours doing exactly that. It picks up as he closes the gap between you.

Dark brushes his lips against yours, the barest of touches, almost as if he's asking for permission again. When you don't pull away, he kisses you properly, surprisingly soft and chaste. (You didn't think he had it in him.) It’s over far too soon, and when he pulls back, your eyes flutter open to find him studying you. The moment is delicate, just the sound of your breathing as his eyes search yours and time seems to stretch into infinity.

All you do is lean forward a little, and you seem to fall into each other, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a bit of urgency. You, instead of retreating, accept it, pressing towards him and tentatively lifting your own hand to his cheek. The reassurance flooding Dark is immediate, prompting him to bring your body closer to him. You inhale sharply in surprise, but again don’t move away, relaxing in his embrace.

Despite the kissing lasting longer than expected, you removing your lips from his still happens much too quickly. Your face is fully flushed, now; he wonders if his cheeks convey the same.

Your voice is soft; one might call it breathless. “You had the discussion…just for that?”

“Well, I had to get you here somehow.” There’s a ghost of a toothy grin for a moment, before his face softens—actually softens, if but a little. “And I meant everything I said.”

Your eyes dart away, sheepish. “Oh…thanks…”

��How do you feel about dinner?”

Those were not words Dark expected out of his mouth, and nor did you, by the way your head whips back up toward him. “Dinner? We eat dinner at the manor all the time.”

“You know what I meant.” A genuine, small smile graces his face. “Just you and me.”

“Y-yeah.” You bite at your lip; he hears your heart rate jump up again. “That sounds…great. When?”

“Tonight, as long as everything goes according to plan.”

You give a small nod, then nod again, more definitively. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

“Splendid.” Dark kisses your forehead, then releases you. His arms already feel empty without you there. “I will come get you when everything is ready. I’ll see you later, darling.”

Darling. Something else that just slipped out. But it feels…right, to borrow that from the past. And, with the way you look at him after it, eyes shining with something he cannot yet fully place, perhaps he will keep calling you “darling.” And, maybe soon, his darling.

#darkiplier x reader #markiplier #x reader #gender neutral reader #Darkiplier #reader insert #mbg writes #dark x reader #happy holidays #christmas fic #pretty much all my notes come from the tags not necessarily followers rn so it doesnt matter where it goes :|#writeblr

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ofcourseiwillmydarling · 1 year ago

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I’m 20 and a full - time student.

You can call me ‘Honey’ or whatever you like, i don’t mind nicknames :) My pronouns are she - her.

— I <3 metal and rock but I’m also a big Lana Del Rey fan! My work will probably be influenced by her aesthetic and songs :)

I love to write - or at least, attempt to - and make moodboards ! English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for any grammatical errors - inconsistencies in my work (and introduction lol). I am really big on bikers - motorcycle clubs (fictional and not) and most of my work will focus on them; I do, however, plan to write for the walking dead and supernatural in the future.

! DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR. I cannot control what you might read - stumble upon on tumblr but please do not interact with me or my posts if you are underage.

— Please keep messages kind and respectful! This is a judgment free zone, I’d like it to be a safe space for everyone! No judgement or being mean; feel free to share your smuttiest thoughts on our favourite men (and women ;P) , do not be shy to interact with me! I love to talk and hear about random thoughts <3

As in for my writing (and moodboards) - requests - prompts, I will mainly write for Jax Teller, Johnny Davis & Benny Cross. Again do not be shy to send in your requests about the characters not mentioned here! I will write for any character of your choice, the ones mentioned above are a very small fraction of a loong list. Please keep in mind this is my first time posting any of my work, be patient and do not be afraid to send back a feedback or criticism to help me improve !

Most of my work will be x fem! reader, but I will gladly write gender neutral or whatever you have in mind! I will try to keep it as neutral as possible, so if you’d like something more close to what meets your criteria (physical appearance, personality, style etc) feel free to send a VERY specific prompt — if you like, we can discuss it in DMs to get the best outcome :) — and even pictures, whatever you believe might help me create the best possible answer for you. <3

— About my moodboards…be as specific as possible! The majority (if not all) of the pictures I use come from Pinterest, I will try my best to credit the rightful owners but its nearly impossible to trace the original creators - owners. If they are yours PLEASE!!! notify me so I can give credit or remove!

Feel free to send me DMs, asks, prompts, rambles…whatever you like! I love to chat and meet new people, especially if we share the same interests!

Lastly, I am new to tumblr and how everything works so bear with me! I will try to update this introduction and, in the future, add a masterlist for my work :)

Love,

Honey <3

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cutiecusp · 1 year ago

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So... @xoxunhinged has totally inspired me to brain to fingertips and type up a lil' something.

A TINY drabble that I'll work on, but I can't get thos idea of out of my head.

Tw. Religious wording, smut so MDNI!, power play.. mentions of oral, worship, more to be added as it evolves i guess? NOT spellchecked, so apologies in advance!

You confess to Father John Price.

His fist clutches the rosary in his left hand, as Father John smells your sweet perfume. Even though you are hidden by the dark wood trellis of the confessional booth, he knew it was you.

" How long has it been since your last confession?" His gruff tone asks, and pauses.

"And what sins are you confessing to today?"

You squirm in your seat, trying to not make it obvious how much his voice makes you melt.

"Uh.. its been three weeks since my last confession Father... I've been having indecent thoughts about a man i cannot have."

You hear him sigh in the next booth over, and you just know he's about to ask.

"Tell me, why can you not have this man? Is he married?" He asks gently. Judgement was not John's duty, but he couldn't bear hearing you talk about another man, not when he was desperate for you.

"In a way, yes." Came your sweet reply, your voice soft and smooth like honey as you tried to keep pressing your thighs together on the wooden stool.

"Well, he's married to his work."

A gruff chuckle escapes from the next booth.

"Well, is there a way you could change his mind?" He asks, lightheartedly.

A silence fills the booths, as you ponder what to say next. You hadn't planned to getting this far, and you were nervous.

"I don't know." You pause. "Is there a way I can distract you from work?" You ask softly.

John adjusts himself on the stool, his trousers getting tighter as he answers quickly.

"Me? Surely that's inappropriate?" He admonishes. "I'm a man of God after all."

You pause. This was THE make or break moment that would seal your fate forever. You wet your bottom lip, and take a deep breath.

" Then allow me to get on my knees and worship you." You plead softly.

John's mind races, imagining you knelt in front of him, taking him into your mouth,your glossy lips taking pleasure in pleasing him, in his own kingdom. His hands running through your hair as he controls the pace of his sweet, little lamb as you gag around his cock.

You don't waste time as you slip into his booth, and drop to your knees.

TBC.

#captain john price #my first fanfic #john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost #fanfiction #ingamephotography

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sunflowersandsapphires · 2 years ago

Text

See if it fits

Wake Up, Chapter 10 (THE FINALE)

Series Masterlist

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, smut adjacent times, reader blames herself for SA (this is entirely an insecurity, survivors are NEVER at fault.), discussion of pressing charges (this piece is not meant to shame anyone who chooses not to seek legal reparations for harassment or assault, this is just setting up a future plot.)

a/n: WE MADE IT! Wow, I can’t believe it’s been 3 months since I first posted this fic, that’s crazy. I really hope this feels somewhat satisfying, I left it open ended because I may or may not be planning a follow up in this verse :)! I cannot thank y’all enough for bearing with me and following along. There will be more fun multi-chapter fics to come!!!

w/c: 4.5k

Your chin tilted up appreciatively as Matt pressed a kiss to your temple, the arm he had around you nestling you more firmly against his side. Your three mutual friends, situated around the large booth at Josie’s, exchanged knowing glances at the display of affection.

“So…” Marci swished her drink around, looking between you and Matt with an arrogant smirk. “What changed?”

“Nothing, we just…” Matt’s free hand gestured limply, giving no further explanation.

“Stopped beating around the bush and admitted to having feelings for one another?” Karen asked with an air of fake politeness.

“Realized that you were both miserable when you were avoiding each other?” Foggy snorted.

“Finally looked at your relationship and had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment because you two have actually been dating for months now under an incorrect label?” Marci smiled, clearly amused by Matt’s blush and your avoidant eyes.

“Yah, yah, all of that.” Matt groused, taking a swig of his beer as he rolled his eyes.

“And after one night, some asshole was able to get you to confess your love. Truly doing what none of us could.” Foggy let out an incredulous laugh as Marci and Karen giggled at the joke but Matt had gone rigid beside you, not seeing the humor in such a traumatic event.

“That’s not funny, Foggy.” He muttered, his rumbling tone heavily inked with a darker quality that you knew lurked beneath his surface.

“What even happened to you two that night?” Cruising right past Matt’s angry comment, Marci gazed at you intently. Your friends had been given small details, but only Matt knew the identity of the man that had captured you, and, as far as you knew, all of them were oblivious to your previous issues with him.

“Um, well, that’s kind of a long story?” You answered, lamely, stirring your drink and focusing intently on the way it twirled around the glass.

“She doesn’t have to relive a near death experience to satisfy your curiosity.” Matt snapped, muscles flexing as he pushed in front of you protectively.

Marci raised her hands in surrender as Foggy and Karen exchanged nervous glances. “Woah there, big shot, I wasn’t—“

“Did you not just ask her for the story of how she was attacked because she hadn’t told you yet? I’m pretty sure—“

“Matt,” Hooking an arm around the one he had securely thrown across your belly, your palm came up to grasp his shoulder and pull him back. “Hey, she was asking a valid question. They deserve to know.”

His face turned to yours, you could just make out the flurry of rage and concern in his stunning brown eyes behind their red lenses. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. No one is owed an explanation.” There was an edge to his words that gave you the impression that he might know more than just the small amount you’d told him.

“I know.” You smiled wanly. “But I haven’t been truly honest with any of you about that night. You all at least deserve that.”

Clenching his jaw, Matt held you close as you took a deep breath. The rough pads of his fingers drew soft patterns under the hem of your blouse as you began recounting the worst days of your life.

“The man that took me…was James Lannister.” Assuming it was better to rip the bandaid off, you started with the worst of the omitted details. Understandably, Marci, Foggy, and Karen all gaped at you from across the table until Karen broke the silence.

“The attorney that was fired from PBA months ago? What on earth did he want with you?”

Biting your lip, you avoided their inquisitive eyes as you admitted your sin. “He wanted revenge. Because I got him fired.”

The three of them took in the new development silently. You let your mind linger on the pleasant warmth of Matt’s palm around your waist before continuing.

“James Lannister found me when I was working as a waitress in a shitty diner in Queens. After befriending me during my shifts, he offered me a position in his office. I was Lannister’s assistant for almost two years. No one knows this about me except a handful of people at PBA because I have since scrubbed it from my personal records and asked to keep my position and supervisor during that time confidential.” As your voice began to crack, you downed the rest of your drink.

“You don’t have to—“ Foggy looked at you worriedly, but you waved him off.

“It’s fine. I'm fine.” Matt gave a nearly silent growl beside you, clearly not convinced by the lie. “Like I said, I covered up that part of my life, but I worked for him for a significant period of time. During those two years, Lannister groomed me. He used me as a tool to end his relationship with his wife and then took his anger out on me when the settlement didn’t go his way. He abused and assaulted me and I was powerless to stop him for months. When the spot opened up in the midtown office, I jumped at the chance to escape. A coworker who had witnessed the abuse helped me report it and they transferred me.”

Matt nudged his beer towards you as your vocal chords tightened around the words spilling out of your mouth. Somehow, he didn’t seem as surprised as the others by your tale of woe. “Thanks, love. After I was transferred, there was a very very lengthy investigation and, at the tail end of it, I was promoted. He was also up for the promotion, but when the investigation proved that he’d been a less than stellar employee, he was fired instead. Obviously, he holds me responsible for that.”

Around the table, no one spoke. Foggy’s hand clenched tightly around his bottle, Marci looked furious, and Karen had gone white as a sheet. Clearing your throat, you pressed on.

“I won’t traumatize you with any of the details but most people think that someone made up the allegations, even if they don’t know that it was me, personally, who spoke up about it. Moving on to the first night of the conference, you all know I was leaving the hotel after Matt and I had a…stupid conversation,” Matt winced beside you and you squeezed his thigh gently. “And I was planning on going home. But I was stopped by Lannister…and Beatrice Snyder.”

A strangled noise sounded from your boyfriend at the inclusion of a familiar character. “Please tell me she didn’t…”

You laughed, mirthlessly. “I wish I could, love. She was one of the people who thought I made everything up, except she knew it was me who reported him. I have no idea who told her, but all that time ago, when I freaked out at the Liberty Gala, that’s what she accused me of. She thought I was wrongfully punishing a man who had refused my advances and stealing his promotion. Handing me over to him was sort of a two birds, one stone thing, I guess. She wanted Lannister to be vindicated and she wanted Matt to think I was a cheating piece of shit. So she could finally have him.”

Tears were pooling in your eyes now, but it wasn’t just from sadness or embarrassment. You were angry. Livid, in fact. Apparently, with all the “almost dying” and whatnot, you’d never processed how horrible you felt about Snyder trying to lie about you and swipe Matt from under your fake-girlfriend-soon-to-be-real-girlfriend nose.

“That fucking bitch.” Karen snarled and Foggy nodded emphatically.

Marci pointed a finger at Foggy. “The next time I see her, I swear—“

“Please don’t!” You squeaked, a few tears breaking the surface tension barrier and making their way down your cheeks. “I know that this is a lot of information and you are obviously going to draw new conclusions about the people involved, me included, but…I just want things to stay the way they were. Please.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure we can do that.” Matt used a thumb to swipe the moisture from your face. “You matter so much to us, of course we care about what happened to you.” You fell against his solid chest with a sniffle and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Matt’s right.” Foggy added gently. “What they did to you was not ok. We won’t do anything you don’t want us to do, but you should at least consider pressing charges.”

“I‘ve tried that before.” You murmured tiredly, burying your face against Matt’s neck. “Lannister is still respected by most of the cops, attorneys, and judges in this city. I didn’t stand a chance then and I don’t now.”

“You didn’t have us before.” Karen says, her gaze ferocious but kind.

“Karen’s right. You have 4 attorneys backing you now.” Marci nodded, clearly already working through the details of the case in her head.

“If we could get the coworker to testify—“ Foggy jumped in, making notes in his phone.

“Guys, wait…” You pleaded, but your quiet tone was ignored.

“Foggy is right, a coworker testimony would be crucial. And we’d just want to thoroughly vet the judge before filing, to be sure he wouldn’t have the upper hand. But we could file in both criminal and civil courts and give us a better chance of success.” Matt’s attention was fully on the other 3 attorneys, his arm no longer shielding you from the world or your bubbling panic.

“No, I don’t want—“ They still weren’t listening. Your breathing turned shallow, why did the walls suddenly feel like they were closing in on you? The voices around you blurred as your skin turned clammy. You clenched and unclenched your fists repeatedly in an attempt to bring yourself out of an impending anxiety attack.

Behind you, a glass shattered—scattering the few remnants of your calm demeanor across the bar with the shards. You jumped, whirling around to find the source of the noise. A hand clamped around your wrist and you flinched, turning to see Matt’s worried face flash with hurt.

“I-I can’t—“ You panted, “I gotta go.” And with that final display of bravery, you fled the dive bar and retreated to your apartment.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to ground yourself by focusing on the heat of the mug in your hands. Whisps of steam spiraled upwards toward your eager face, dancing across your cheeks in a tender caress. You got all of 5 minutes to wallow in self pity before he caught up to you.

The window in your bedroom slid open, which would have alarmed you if you weren't confident that it was your concerned ninja boyfriend. His stern voice did catch you off guard, however.

“What were you thinking?” Arms crossed, you could almost smell his rage, the devil gnashing its teeth behind his glowering eyes.

“I'm sorry, Matty,” His nostrils flared at the nickname, clearly rejecting your attempt to soothe his spurt of protective anger. “You were right, it was too much, I--”

Matt was practically alight with indignation. “You cannot just run off like that. Not after your track record.”

“My track record?” That comment stung, plucking a string that ran straight to the core of your insecurities.

No doubt sensing the shift in your tone, Matt changed tactics with a sigh. “Lovely, you of all people know how dangerous it is out there—“

“You think it was my fault.” Your voice wavered, not daring to look at him and see resigned agreement.

“Of course not.” Matt denied firmly, but you held onto your suspicion nontheless. Hands held out in a placating gesture, he moved towards you. “Never. I just…I worry about you.”

“I’m fine.” Your boyfriend flinched at the lie.

“Both of us know that’s not true.” His blank eyes darted around your face, searching for any path past the walls you were putting up. Clearly something he'd said had been misconstrued, he would never blame you for the actions of monsters, but it had forced your guard up anyway. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he sat beside you on the couch, trying not to let his face betray how devastated he was by your physical and emotional distance. “Sweetheart, why don’t you want to press charges?”

“What?” You looked to him in surprise, not expecting him to get right to the root of your distress.

“That’s what set your anxiety off, isn’t it?” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Matt I don’t—“ You started, but he held up a finger to stop you as a scream echoed in the distance. Holding your shoulders high as your heart clenched, you set your jaw and allowed your consciousness to sink back into emotional numbness. “Go.”

“Angel, I don't--” Conflict was etched into his features, softening your resolve.

”It's ok, Matt.“ You ran a hand over his arm as you reassured him honestly. ”Go, let the devil out. We can have a more productive conversation when you've given your alter ego the space he needs and I've sorted through my own emotional turmoil.”

“I don't want to leave you like this.” Matt's voice was soft with hesitation and strife. He reached a hand towards you in silent offering.

Squeezing his outstretched fingers, your stomach ached with sympathy. “And I'm asking you to. As much as I adore your company, I know myself pretty well. I need time to process my own thoughts and emotions. I love you, and we both know you need to attend to whatever is going on out there.“

Kissing your forehead, Matt nodded in understanding.”I love you too.“

”I know. I'll be here when you get back.“ You promised as he walked into your bedroom and leapt out the window.

Recentering your mug in your shaky palms, you sighed as you realized the heat had dissipated in the time you'd neglected the drink. Standing on wobbling legs, you shuffled to the stove to boil it once more.

Ripping his mask off, Matt ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair as he debated his next move. The city hadn't asked much from him tonight, simply guiding him through a web of petty crimes before he landed in his apartment at a semi-decent hour.

Each hit thrown had steadily chipped away at the swirling mass of anger that had been building in his chest for hours, leaving a trail of regret and guilt in its wake. His heart hammered at the thought of facing you again, after the way he'd acted. After scolding you for taking care of yourself and accusing you of putting yourself in danger, of course you assumed he blamed you for the violence you'd experienced. God, he was such an idiot. He didn't deserve you.

Swallowing the lump of insecurity that rose in his throat, he stripped off the suit and stalked into the shower, already brainstorming his much needed apology.

Across Hell's Kitchen, you turned fitfully on your mattress, failing to let sleep drag you under despite your exhaustion. Threads of apprehension knit together a string of self deprecating thoughts, weaving an intricate trap that you'd barely avoided since Matt left. Voices rang through your brain, making you wince with each word. Your fault. You’re so pathetic. Slut. Not with your track record. Whore. Shrew. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

You whined, curling into a ball and throwing your hands over your ears. But the voices didn't quiet down.

You did this to yourself. You were asking for it. You think you’re a victim? You are so stupid.

Shivers wracked your body as you wrapped a pillow around your head, the soft feathers unable to silence the imaginary accusations. Heaving quivery breaths, you tightened your fingers around the fabric in your fingers until your knuckles ached. With the subtle pain to hold your attention, you willed your lungs to hold the air for longer than a millisecond.

Sniffling through stifled cries, your throat felt tighten as your heart pounded, stabbing a dull ache into your temples with each pulse. You were so engrossed in the storm of emotional instability that you didn't hear the window sliding open. Yelping as a hand touched your shoulder, you flew out of the bed, landing haphazardly on the wood floor in a pile of frantic limbs.

“Woah, easy there, angel, it's me.” Keeping an admirable distance, Matt crouched in your line of sight, giving you time to adjust to his presence. Dressed in a worn shirt and sweatpants, his cheeks were tinged pink with exertion and his damp hair was ruffled—he must have hurried back to you. Although the thought of your boyfriend rushing to your side after tending to the city made your heart swell with adoration, your frayed nerves triggered a defensiveness within you.

“You couldn't have used the door?” You snapped, baring your hurt to him rather than letting your guard down and revealing the terror beneath. Grimacing at Matt's shocked expression, you recoiled at your own standoffishness. “I'm sorry, you just startled me.”

Frowning at the defeated tone you held, Matt scooted over to your collapsed form. “I thought you'd be asleep, angel. When I got close enough to hear your heart rate, I panicked. What happened?” Offering you a hand up that you timidly accepted, he sat you on the bed, kneeling before you and gazing up inquisitively.

“Dunno. I was doing ok and then...I just wasn't.” Your breath hitched with the confession, pulling stale tears from your waterline. Traitors.

“You should've called me.” Matt's thumb ran lines over the back of your hand.

Biting your lip, you closed your eyes. “I–I never want to make you choose between me and the city, that's not fair.”

Nodding, Matt frowned. “I appreciate that, sweetness, but I will always always come help you.” Putting a mental pin in that conversation, he sat against your headboard and, risking rejection, lifted you tenderly into his lap. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you inadvertently leaned into the kisses he placed against your aching head.

“I'm so sorry, beautiful girl. I didn't mean to snap at you earlier, that wasn't smart of me. It made you feel bad, huh?” Matt placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of your nose as you nodded miserably, glistening tears pouring down your cheeks. ”I apologize, but I need you to know I wasn't angry with you. It seemed like I was, I get that, but I promise I was just worried and I let my emotions get the better of me.“

”I'm sorry too.“ You murmured, gratefully falling into the hands that came to cradle your face. ”I should have been more careful.“

”Oh no, sweet thing, I didn't mean that. Nothing that those men did is your fault, ok? Nothing. I will tell you that a hundred times a day if I need to. I have never blamed you for their actions, ok? Hand to God.“

”Pinky promise?“ You sniffled quietly, pressing a lone pinky against the back of one of his.

With an airy chuckle, Matt linked your fingers together. ”Pinky promise.“

”Thank you.“

”No need to thank me, sweetness. I just hope you'll forgive me.“

”You're already forgiven.“ You murmured, pressing your lips to Matt's.

Tangled in each other’s arms, you happily let Matt trace patterns along your spine, beginning to nod off in his secure hold. Cupping your chin, Matt nudged his nose against yours. “I know you’re tired, lovely, but you should drink some water. Maybe take an Advil too, for that headache of yours.”

Yawning, you nuzzled further into Matt’s neck. “How d’you know about that?”

“I have special Devil senses. They help me tell when my darling girl isn’t feeling good.” He jested, pinching your cheek lightly.

You smiled, accepting the glass he offered you and drinking greedily. Setting the now empty glass back on your nightstand, Matt settled into the mattress and pulled you with him.

Sleep lapped at the brink of your consciousness, spurred on by the warmth of your personal space heater of a boyfriend. “I was thinking…” Matt’s rumbling whisper began, “We’ve never gone on a proper date, since we got together. Would you like to have dinner with me this week?”

Humming contentedly, your lips broke into a small smile. “Yes please.”

Kissing your forehead, Matt smiled back at you. “Ok, my sweet girl. I’ll plan something for us while you sleep.”

“I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too, angel.”

Waking up with you in his arms continued to be a small slice of heaven that Matt was sure neither he nor his Devil deserved. Pressing a kiss to your head, he inhaled deeply–centering himself with your delicate scent–before making his way to the kitchen to start coffee. Slipping out of your slumbering grasp, he padded blearily out of the bedroom, shuddering slightly at the abrupt lack of warmth around him.

Once the coffee machine was whirring, Matt sank onto his worn couch, opening his laptop to listen to some emails he’d received the night before. After responding to one, a smile grew on his face when he heard an uptick in your pulse as you shifted on the bed.

Patiently waiting for his coffee to brew, he refrained from returning to the covers to shush you and help you back to sleep. Unfortunately, this meant you had fully left the bed before he could encourage you to stay there.

Soft footsteps rung throughout the loft as you walked towards him, yawning the whole time.

“Good morning, sweet thing. You didn’t need to get out of bed yet,” Though he was still smiling (his grin was nearly constant in your presence), he almost pouted in sympathy as he heard your groggy voice respond.

“Didn’t want to be in bed anymore,” You explained with a shrug, settling into his lap with a content little sigh. “Wanted to be with you.”

Fuck, that tugged on his heart strings. Gasping slightly at the outpouring of affection from you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and hooked his chin over your head. “Then I guess we’ll both have to relax today, huh.”

Nodding vigorously, one of your hands came up to cradle his face, gently rubbing over his stubble. “Mmm I like that plan. And any other plan that involves Matthew Murdock resting. He’s pretty averse to that, you know.”

Huffing out a laugh, Matt poked your stomach. “I am not ‘averse’ to resting!”

“Oh yah? So you wouldn’t be listening to emails on this bright, early Sunday morning? Rather than, I don’t know, staying in bed with your sleeping girlfriend?”

Chuckling, Matt shrugged, “I wanted coffee!”

“You’re deflecting, counselor.” You hummed, pressing an inviting kiss to his lips and pulling back all too quickly for Matt’s liking. His hands caught your neck, trying to tug your lips back to his as he whined involuntarily, but you just smiled. “I’m getting you that coffee you wanted so badly.” Matt hadn’t even realized the machine had sounded, far too focused on your body and the delicious sounds it was making as it teased him.

You tried to get up from the couch, but Matt’s arms caught you in a vice grip. He growled lightly, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the junction where it collided with your shoulder.

“Matty, darling,” You laughed brightly, leaning into his nuzzles and bites as you tried to reason with him. “As much as I do want you to rest today, I’m going to need coffee so that I don’t pass out immediately.”

“You can pass out,” Matt murmured against your sweet skin. “I don’t mind.”

Tracing a hand up his back and into his hair, you smiled. “Well, I mind. I have something I want to do today that I need to be awake for.”

“Wh-What’s that?” Matt rumbled, struggling to stay coherent as you massaged his scalp.

“I, uh,” You suddenly hesitated, Matt tilted his head as your guard slid up ever so slightly. “I was thinking of going to the 10th precinct and, um, filing charges.”

Your pulse stuttered, your body giving away your discomfort—with either the idea of filing or his reaction, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“That’s, that’s great, sweetness, but I don’t want you to do anything just because people you care about suggested it—“

“No, I want to. Well, want might not be the right word, but I…I think it’d be smart. To file at least a protective order and to get something on paper for the whole hostage situation.”

“I agree, love. Always a good idea to make a paper trail, right?” Matt asked lightly, as he rubbed a hand over your arm—trying to silently remind you that you were safe, that you could be vulnerable with him.

Hiding your face in his shoulder, you bit your lip, weighing the consequences of the question you wanted to ask. Apprently reading your thoughts, Matt pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You can ask me anything, love.”

Shoving his shoulder, you glared at him. “You know it’s really creepy when you do that.” Matt laughed in response.

“You don’t think it’s creepy, you feel more comfortable when I read you like that. Your heart rate always slows down.”

Rolling your eyes, you stifled a smile. “Fucking show off.”

“For you my dear? Always.” Resting his brow against yours, Matt’s blank eyes formed an almost stern expression. “What did you want to ask me, lovely?”

“Will you, er, I mean—“ You sighed, drawing in a deep breath before spitting out the query. “Will you actually help me if I file? Like, legally?”

“Oh, angel, of course!” Pulling back from you, Matt’s words held so much affection and genuine care that you felt a lump growing in your throat. “I will do everything in my power to see that man locked away for good.”

You giggled as his voice deepened to a snarl, the Devil showing his face for a moment as the memories of your kidnapping resurfaced. “As Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Both.” He growled, hands instinctively clenching around you.

Cradling his face between your palms, you drew your protective boyfriend into a heated kiss.

Shifting from foot to foot, you glanced at the brick facade apprehensively. As you ran through the possible ways this could blow up in your face, Matt’s steady hand clasped around your trembling one.

“We can go home right now, sweet girl.” He reminded you gently, squeezing your hand comfortingly. For a moment, another night flashed before your eyes, as if the precinct was the venue for the Liberty Gala you’d attended all those weeks ago.

“No. He deserves to be put away. I’m going to make that happen.” You said defiantly.

Matt dropped your hand and slid an arm around your waist. “I’ll be here every step of the way, sweetness.”

Nodding to yourself, you blew out a breath. “Right. Let’s do this.” Taking your boyfriend’s arm, you led him up the steps and into the bustling precinct.

It wasn’t clear what the future would hold, but the pair of you would get through it together. That, you were sure of.

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

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